I want his drugs...Originally Posted by Paul in NZ
The ancient Moto Guzzi is a truely classic motorcycle. It was built but people that understand what I've just described and it is NOT user friendly at all. You have to be prepared to sacrifice skin, money and time to the spanner gods because most dealers won't touch it with a 10 ft pole. You have to learn not only the lore and how to work on it but how to ride it and more importantly, learn to ride around it's obvious defects. Every ride is a challenge and frankly I still stuff up more corners than I get right but every now and then, you get everything right and once in a blue moon, you get a sequence of things right. Then it flies and it takes your soul along with it, the weight of ancient heroes ride at your shoulders in a glourious wail of gears and fire. Diving in just a bit too hot, trail the linked brakes while the too heavy rear drive starts the rear wheel skipping, ease off the front and foot, crash through the straight cut box while the engine screams like a Spitfire diving on Berlin as you clip the apex and wrench open the throttle that feels connected to the engine by a steel bar as the big carbs gulp a lungful and the whole plot leaps forward like a startled hippo spearing towards the next bend as you wonder if you have enough brakes left to take it. What the hell, at least you will die like a man! You realise you can feel every stone on the road and every pulse of the engine and try to remember when you last felt so damn alive. It's a drug like no other because a little piece of you joins the ranks of the immortals every time the needle strays into the orange zone.




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hahaha good on ya boy.






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