J'ai trouvé sur internet une annecdote en anglais sur la 350 RDLC, ça décrit bien l'ambiance.
THEY APPEARED IN MY MIRRORS, coming up fast on the outside. It was inevitable really; the Power Valve is like a red rag to a bull with these people. The 2.8 fuel-injected Capri pulled alongside at the next red light, the designer-labelled South-London fly-boy gunned the engine and the peroxide Barbie doll beside him simpered and smirked through the window. Right pal, you're dead meat, I thought as I blipped the throttle and spread a blue haze of two-stroke fumes over the proceedings.
The lights went to amber, the Yamaha's engine screamed to 6000 revs as I failed to keep the front wheel on the ground, while a long way behind me the Capri was spinning its wheels and going nowhere in a hurry. Two miles later an RSI600 Escort pulled up alongside me and gunned bis engine. Will they never learn?
A mettre en scène et diffuser sur YouTube!