It’s early on a fine spring morning, through the mist and trees there’s a glimmer seen, a rumble of tires on the ground and the mechanical accompaniment of a bike and rider workin’ it hard. Sudden silence as the solo procession kicks off a booter- you see a flicker of red, like blood on snow. Your eyes register a white frame, long and low and mean looking. Wheels and tires in black and bits of silver incandescence, glinting like sun on water, then it’s gone. A quick shake of the head, as soon as you saw it you knew... it’s true, the Holeshot is back, looking better than ever!