We didn't make it in time. The big blocks were still concussing their way closer when the first of the bikes glided to a stop in front of us. With the noise of the hogs in my ears, there was no way I could have heard this bike. It was one of the newest-generation Japanese crotch-rockets, driven by a turbine engine that even when cracked wide open didn't get much louder than an electric fan. The bike looked fast and mean and had a rider to match.