My 1098S made me cry.

Are you sick of me yet? It occurred to me today that people will probably very quickly tire of me talking about myself constantly. I am certainly not under any delusion that I am that interesting. I guess however my situation is. Anyhoo I will certainly try to keep it interesting.

I have not yet had a day without crying. Some days its a river and some days its a little trickle. Friday it was a river. A raging torrent of epic proportions. Pain got on top of me and I was weak and let it consume me. I tried to fight it and lost. The news from Thursday, my horse stuck in the fence, being unable to drive, not able to do my hair, fighting to put a nappy on the baby, the list goes on.

Saturday I was feeling good until I cleaned out some clutter from our foyer and my magnificent tricolore was visible again.

Seeing this beautiful girl again pushed some buttons. I ran my hand over her and tears just fell and fell. I have had some times on this bike. Even buying her was special as these babies are hard to find. I have ridden her to Victoria and back. Gear piled up high as if she was a tourer, race tape protecting her Italian super bike paintwork.

I fell off her once when I am came sailing down a wet road chasing my group of riders and suddenly saw them waving madly from a service station, i jumped on those magnificent Ducati brembo monoblock four piston front calliper brakes, turned the steering head the tiniest bit and fell flat on my face. My poor undropped super bike skidded away from me in the gravel and I cried a river that day.

My darling husband painstakingly repaired her back to her magnificent original self and we were both so happy we had the 3M panel protection on the fairings. That shit it amazing.

Another time I was waiting in a group of bikes in Mt Beauty, a gorgeous country town on one of our annual pilgrimages and a man rushed up to me excitedly saying “um your bike has something wrong with it”. I smiled and pulled in my clutch and said “its a dry clutch, that is the noise”. Incredulous he smiled and gave me the thumbs up. And if you have never heard a Ducati dry clutch, its a very distinct sound and one that a purist like me loves, but to the untrained ear it sounds terrifying mechanically. I should have been offended as no doubt he would not have said it to a man, but I didn’t care. I was proud to be there, sitting atop my super bike, a bike that I can actually ride and ride fast.

So on Saturday when I stood inside my house and ran my hands over this bike that has done its part to define me, even if only a small way, I cried because those days are over. Even if I can learn to ride with one arm and make my way back to a race track I will never again take this beautiful bike, a bike that took me years to buy, out again. And that is worth crying over.

I will do everything in my power to ride again and get back to somewhere near where I used to be, but some things will never be the same. And now I am crying again. But you my darling tricolore are worth these tears.