Stephen Rowland: Finally kicking the 'Diavel' out the door

I’m sitting here this morning with a somewhat heavy heart while a gentleman from Ohio is driving down here to buy my pride and joy, my Ducati Diavel.

I’m selling it because I like that motorcycle way too much.

I know that sounds strange, but it’s the truth. As Christians, we are told to love people and like things, not the reverse, but I’m afraid I’ve developed a love relationship with that bike. It’s also developed into a moral issue with a touch of sin involved — let me explain.

When Italian manufacturer Ducati was developing the Diavel, they took it for a test run through the countryside. A man saw and heard it coming and exclaimed “Here comes the Devil!”

Diavel in Italian means “Devil.” That humorous exclamation became the official name of the bike during production. It roars, it growls, it pops and snarls at deceleration, and it’s incredibly fast. I thought it humorous that as chaplain for the Knights For Christ, I was riding the Devil.

My “carbon fiber” model was lightweight and pumped out 162 horsepower stock. I had a performance exhaust installed and the ECU electronically flashed to accommodate that change, so it pumped out even more horsepower.

All that horsepower was available immediately — it was all torque. Getting the revs up for power isn’t necessary as with a lot of sport bikes; 100% power is there from a standstill with a mere flick of the wrist. This bike is dangerously close to being unrideable due to unanticipated burn outs or wheelies so the manufacturer installed electronic  “Nanny Controls.” If the front wheel starts coming up, the sensor blocks fire to the spark plugs momentarily; the same happens if the rear wheel starts breaking loose into a burnout or slide.

If it weren’t for those Nanny controls, I’m sure I would have injured or killed myself several times. It’s a really weird sensation when you give it a bit too much throttle, the burnout starts, the rear end begins to slide sideways, the engine “pauses,” the bike bogs down and straightens back up safely — all without any rider input.  

Now, if you are blessed with an inordinate amount of self control and can ride a hot rod motorcycle without ever breaking the speed limit, then God bless you. I must confess, the temptation was way too great for me. I enjoy acceleration and speed. I would still be doing “track days” down at Barber Motorsports and “Little Talladega” racetracks if it weren’t for a very worried wife. Learning to drag your knee through sharp corners is not worth marital disharmony.

When I didn’t see any vehicles around on straight and level roads, there were several times, I blasted that bike up into triple digit speeds in just a few seconds. I’m talking 135+ mph. The bike will do 170 mph. At those speeds a slight rise on the road, almost imperceptible at legal speeds, turns into a “go airborne for 50 feet” type of thrill. If I had been caught I would be sitting in jail. I never got a ticket because I knew where the cops usually set up shop with their radar, but that’s no excuse.

As Christians, we are supposed to obey the laws of the land; that’s scriptural. Pretty much everyone speeds a little bit unintentionally occasionally, but intentionally doing race track speeds out on the street is very dangerous and irresponsible, even if just a few times.

I would go home, feel bad, pray and repent. A month later temptation would strike and there I would go again blazing down some country road. It’s sort of like an alcoholic praying and repenting after getting drunk, then repeating the process. The solution is to stay away from alcohol. The solution for me is to stay away from insanely fast bikes.

So, the chaplain is no longer riding the Devil.

The gentleman coming down to buy my bike is 71 years old, bless his heart, and may God help him. I hope he doesn’t have heart problems. I’m presently searching for a nice chopper to ride — that will slow me down considerably, especially in the curves. I’ll just try to “look cool” for the ride at age 64.

It’s time to slow down. I’m tired of repenting.