Orson

Looks like a great time! wonderful pics

As I had never been to southern Italy, I decided to remedy that situation by sending team orson on an all-encompassing trip of Italy. Originally, I had planned on heading south through the boot of Italy then across to Sicily and up through Sardinia. However, I began to think that I might get caught out by convoluted ferry schedules so I decided to take the islands first. I arrived in Parma, collected my trusty steed and loaded up the luggage. Heading out, I made my way south along the autostrada to Modena before turning southwest across the Appenines. I stopped for a quick picture in the pretty spa town of Bagni di Lucca. Reaching Livorno on the coast, I purchased a ticket for the next mornings ferry to Corsica then found myself a hotel room. The sea was calm and the crossing to Corsica was uneventful, arriving in Bastia at around lunchtime. I headed west along the northern coast along the Gulf de St. Florent. Corsica is nothing but a huge mountain range jutting out of the Mediterranean. As you can imagine, this means there are some excellent, twisty two-lanes for two-wheeled entertainment. Northern European riders flood into Corsica in droves to enjoy the great twisties. Mostly Germans & Austrians with a smattering of Swiss & Dutch riders. In all my years of touring, I've never felt like a sheeple but that changed on Corsica. Where normally I might see 1 or 2 other touring riders in a day, on Corsica I saw maybe 30 to 40 riders a day! :crazy: There were armadas of touring riders travelling in packs of up to 10. Very seldom did I see anyone else travelling alone. The Honda Trans-Alp, Beemer GS has a sizeable following with almost as many riding sport bikes. Full dressers & Harleys were rare on this trip. If you planted Big Bend National Park in the middle of the Mediterranean, you'd have Corsica. That's the best way I can describe it. Here's a couple of pictures of the impressive central mountain range. My plan was to find a hotel up in the mountains where the temperatures were nice and cool. That plan didn't work out as every hotel I stopped at was full! I continued southwards, dropping down from the mountains to the capital city of Ajaccio. I thought for sure that I would find a room in such a large city but, alas, everything was full. I found out that I had arrived on Corsica on a Friday in the midst of a three day French holiday weekend...D'oh! I was finally able to grab the last room at an upscale resort south of Ajaccio. Here is the view from my room. I had been hoping for the cool mountains but, if I had to settle for the coast, I guess this would do! Since I had been to Corsica a couple years ago, I decided not to fight the French crowds and make tracks for Sardinia. The next morning, I made my way south along the twisty, coastal road to the port of Bonaficio for the 1 hour ferry to Sardinia. Parked up and waiting to board for the 3 P.M. sailing. The impressive coastal fortifications around Bonaficio. We disembarked at Santa Teresa on the northern tip of Sardinia just after 4 P.M. so, I made my way down the eastern coast of the island in search of a hotel room. After yesterday's foibles in Corsica, I was relieved to find a vacancy at the first hotel I stopped at near Olbia. The next day, I set off exploring in a southerly direction. My immediate impression of Sardinia was that it was a little more arid than Corsica. In some places it resembled the Texas Hill Country or New Mexico and in other places it reminded me of Arizona or Southern California. I couldn't get over how little traffic there was! It was if someone had set off a neutron bomb. I might encounter 1 car every 15 minutes. Quite a change from the chaotic traffic on the Italian mainland! Roads didn't seem to last for very long before they merged into other roads. It seemed like I had to stop every 5 km to check the map. Lots of head scratching. The roads on Sardinia were generally in good to excellent condition. I had been expecting Corsica to have better roads what with the French government's penchant for building excellent roads but I was pleasantly surprised to find that Sardinia was no slouch in the asphalt department. The twisties seemed to go on forever! Entire tanks of gas were ridden in third gear, that magical, catch all gear that seems a perfect combination of speed & torque. Every now and then I'd have to engage 4th gear to punctuate a short straight or dab down into 2nd for a tight switchback. The rest of the time, 3rd gear was more than willing to take on the brunt of the load. Two-lane twisties for as far as you could see. Hard left followed by hard right and on and on... Now, I love twisties as much as the next guy but, I began to wonder if a few straights every now and then might bring some relief! The curves came literally one right after the other, mile after mile. With the temperatures reaching the upper 80's, I began to feel the fatigue of the endless curves...a predicament I had never faced before. I guess I must be aging disgracefully. For such an arid land, there were lots of things growing as my sinuses began to inform me. The air was flush with fragrant scents of mint leaves and other flora. There were cacti growing everywhere further adding to that American southwest feeling. At a gas stop in the town of Aritzo in the mountainous Monti del Gennargentu region, tragedy struck my tank bag. As I was filling up, the tank bag fell off to the side of the bike, snapping off one of the straps I managed to rig the remaining strap so that I could continue to ride, but it would be better if I could get it fixed. At that night's hotel, I asked if there was a cobbler in town. After getting directions through a labrynth of streets (asking two more times) I finally managed to find a tiny shop the size of a small closet. I showed the old man the problem and he immediately set about fixing it. Within 5 minutes, he had expertly stitched the strap back on. Good as new! What had looked like a dire situation 12 hours earlier, evaporated in the clear morning sunlight! He suggested 1 Euro as compensation. I gave him 10 Euros. I almost had to force him to take it. I probably doubled his weekly income. Old world craftmanship... In just about every small town I passed through, I would notice murals depicting everyday life. They were quite well drawn and evocative. I finally began to encounter some straight-ish roads the farther south I got. Relief! By the time I had reached the southern portion of the island, its endlessly curvey roads had done a number on my rear tire. There are those people who suggest that a Moto Guzzi is simply incapable of shredding roads. Those people might be wrong That's one rear tire seen off by Sardinia :cool: After 5 days on Sardinia, I reached the capital city of Cagliari at the south end of the island. Kudos to the Kawasaki ZX-10R riding local who showed me where I could get a new tire fitted. Within one hour, I had a fresh, new rear tire. I wish things always worked out so smoothly. I came away extremely impressed with Sardinia. While the roads in Corsica might have been tighter, Sardinia's roads were no pushovers. I reckon Corsica would be Deal's Gap to Sardinia's Cherahola Skyway. All that with hardly any traffic! With a new tire, I had a few hours to kill before the overnight ferry to Sicily so I explored Cagliari's harbor. This shot looks like the LP cover of some 70's crooner An elderly woman looking out over the harbor. I arrived at the dock at 6 P.M. for the 7 P.M. sailing. I saw an orderly line waiting to board a ferry and fell in. When I got to the ticket taker he informed me that this was the wrong ferry. My ferry was further down the dock. I rode down the dock and into utter bedlam. What had been a nice orderly scene at the first ferry, degenerated into unrestrained chaos. There seemed to be about 10 different people in charge, all shouting out instructions. By some miracle, everything was loaded in time and the ferry departed exactly as it was scheduled. Italy is funny that way Bedlam unfolds before boarding the ferry to Sicily... I made my way to my cabin and after watching Sardinia slip off the boat's stern, I had a small supper and settled into bed. When I awoke the next morning, we would be approaching the island of Sicily. I awoke the next morning about 1 hour from Palermo. I made my way to the coffee shop & received my daily dosage of capuccinos before preparing to disembark. The weather had turned to overcast skies. While the clouds offered some relief from the heat, it also made photo opportunities a bit more difficult. After getting off the ferry, my first mission was to buy a map of Sicily. Easier said than done it seems. The first 6 gas stations I stopped at had no maps. At each stop, I was given a look that said,"This is a gas station. Why would we sell maps?" I was finally able to find a book store that had a map of Sicily. Palermo. Riding in Italy is a study of patience. Where as in the U.S. everything is based on fast, speedy service, fast food, quick bank loans, instant gratification, in Italy, time ceases to have meaning. Stopping for a meal, takes at least one hour as your meals are usually 3 course affairs followed by an espresso, all consumed at a relaxed rate. Whereas in the states, you can make a stop at a convenience store, fill up your tank, grab a cold drink or a bite to eat, that's not the way things work in Italy. In Italy, you go to the gas station for gas. There won't even be a coke machine in sight. If you want to have a drink, you have to go to the bar/tabacceria, order a drink, then have a seat. If you want to eat, you go to a restaurant. At first, this can be a bit frustrating for someone used to the conveniences of the states, but after a short time, you begin to be assimilated into the ways of Italian life. Everything must be slowed down so that each moment can be savored. Meals are consumed at a languid pace with sips of wine between each bite of food. There is nowhere to go and no hurry to get there. Sicily holds a central location in the Mediterranean and therefore has seen many conquerors come and go from the Greeks, the Carthiginians, the Romans, the Arabs, the Spanish and even the Germans. Because of this, Sicily has many influences in its architecture and culture. The western part of Sicily sees more Arabic influences, while the eastern half sees a lot of influence from the Greeks. There are even a few Albanian villages in the mountains where the secluded inhabitants still speak Albanian. Arabic influences are seen in the delectable variety of sweets in Sicily. Sicilians have a real sweet tooth with sweets made from ricotta and sugar and almond pastes :drool: With newly purchased map in hand, I head out from Palermo towards the west coast, passing by San Vito lo Capo The roads seemed tighter and less maintained than those on Sardinia so, the quality of riding deteriorated. Still, it was nice to see all the ancient history. Sicily seemed a lot more hardscrabble and rugged than Sardinia. I followed the coast southward until it turned towards the east. If you're a history buff, Sicily is a treasure trove with history seemingly at every turn. I'd be rolling along when suddenly, ancient Greek temples appeared off in the distance, standing as they have since the 5th century BC The Temple of Concord near Agrigento. These bad boys were seen all over southern Italy. The Fiat 500 is a classic known as a fun drive. It's said that former world champion Michael Schumaker even owns one. In Vittoria, I stopped at a Ducati dealer to have a new front tire mounted. They had a Hypermotard on display. I hadn't even realized they were out on the market yet. Here you can see its compact size in comparison to a Multistrada. Heading inland, I Had to watch my gas gauge and my watch as there didn't seem to be many hotels inland. I had to try to time it to be near the coast at night. The backroads were tight and more conducive to touring than to sport touring. Approaching Mount Etna, she remained cloaked in a veil of clouds perhaps intimidated by the rumble of the mighty Guzzi's v twin Finally, around 10 A.M. she made her grand entrance. On the slopes of Mount Etna, I had to put on my fleece for the first time since leaving the mainland to ward off the high altitude chill. It wasn't long though before the clouds descended again... Everywhere I went in southern Italy, I saw abandoned homes, perhaps people who left for America or people who gave up on a plot of land, whatever the reasons it seemed a testament to a hard life. I must have passed through a thousand small towns with narrow winding streets. Sometimes I'd arrive at a 5 way intersection with no sign as to which way I was supposed to go. Nothing to do but pick one and see where it took me. Rule # 98 of travelling in Italy. Ask directions from old men. They seemed grateful that someone values their opinion. So much so that sometimes they wouldn't stop talking! After 5 days in Sicily, I made it to the port city of Messina to catch a ferry back to the mainland. There's talk of building a bridge across the Straights of Messina. As you can see from the photograph, you can almost throw a stone across it. After a short 20 minute ferry ride, I was back on the Italian mainland in the boot tip. I rode through the Aspromonte National Park with its dark forest roads that reminded me a bit of Northern California. I later found out that this is where the Mafia goes to dispose of their dirty business. The road signs in this part of Italy are terrible and with me being a card carrying Luddite without a GPS, I was left to fend for myself. Eventually, I found my way and made it across the central mountain range to the souther side of the "toe". The town of Stilo, like many Italian towns occupies a strategic spot atop a hill with a church usually occupying the highest place. After pottering about in the south, I became concious of time running out on my vacation so I made the decision to put in some miles on the autostrada. Normally, freeways are meant to make time and not very scenic however, that's not the case with the A3. Cutting through beautiful mountains, the A3 offers visual delights with enough sweeping bends to keep things interesting. As freeways go, you could do a lot worse than the A3. After a day on the autostrada, I had reached the famed Amalfi coast. I had an interest in Amalfi since my father spent time there during World War II. My father fought in the war as a member of the Royal Canadian Artillery that was involved in the forgotten Italian campaign. After being wounded, he was sent to recover in Amalfi at a convent that had been converted into a military hospital. I remember my father waxing nostalgic about the beautiful town. While in Amalfi, I took the time to visit the nearby ruins of Pompeii. Pompeii is said to have an effect on some people. Unfortunately, I wasn't one of them. Although I'm a history buff, the ruins didn't really overwhelm me in that way but it was an interesting stop all the same. One exception were the plaster casts of the victims who died in the eruption. Some seemed to have sat down and surrendered to their inevitable fate. It was very dramatic to see them as they were in their last moments alive. Fresco in a Roman noble's home. All the while, Mount Vesuvius watched over the proceedings From Pompeii, I returned to Amalfi along the famous Amalfi Coast road, said by some to be the most beautiful road in the world. As it was a weekend, the road was clogged with four-wheeled tourist traffic. This isn't a problem in Italy on a motorcycle as you simply straddle the center line, select the appropriate gear...and motivate I must have passed a thousand cars stuck in traffic...two wheels are the only way to go! While the road is undoubtedly beautiful, I still regard California's Pacific Coast Highway as the top motorcycle road in the universe. Private homes dot the landscape nestled on precarious perchs above the sea. The city of Salerno, south of Naples clings to the side of a cliff like no city its size I've ever seen. Back in Amalfi, I took the time walking the town's streets, trying to imagine the places my father had been. It must have been a special place back then before tourism transformed it. I believe this structure on the hillside may have been the convent where my father convalesced. A shot of the hotel where I stayed while on the Amalfi coast. There was one more place I wanted to see while here. Like many veterans of the war, my father seldom spoke of his wartime experiences. One of the few times he did was to mention the destruction of the abbey atop Monte Cassino during the Battle of Monte Cassino. The Germans were reportedly using the abbey as an observation post and Allied command ordered it to be bombed. He spoke ruefully of the destruction of the beautiful abbey. I'm sure my father would be pleased to learn that the abbey has since been rebuilt to its former glory with its fantastic views. The Abbey on Monte Cassino. Unlike Pompeii, this place did move me...perhaps because of my personal connection or perhaps reflecting on the lives that were lost in this bloody chapter of the war. Unfortunately, this would be my last picture as my camera's battery bit the dust three days from the end of the trip. Unfortunate also because the Umbria and Tuscany regions I passed through are perhaps the most beautiful regions of Italy. North of Rome, the roads started improving and I was able to resume sport touring as opposed to just touring. Afterall, that's the reason we are here I spent the last three days zig-zagging through Umbria and Tuscany. These places really live up to their billing with picturesque hilltop towns and countryside. In my opinion, Tuscany and Umbria should rank alongside the Alps as prime motorcycling destinations. They may not have the majestic mountains of the Alps but the region is dotted with great places to stay, wonderful places to eat and great motorcycling roads. The last three days was also a study in rain avoidance as I somehow managed to skirt around thunderstorms with only an occasional sprinkle. On the last day of the trip, I cut up the coast to La Spezia before cutting across the Appenines to Parma over the Paso de Cisa. Ironically, this was the first road I travelled after purchasing my Guzzi in 2002 so it seemed a fitting way to complete a circle and reaching 60,000 kilometers on the Guzzi's clock. Distance: 6300 km / 3915 miles Days: 21 travel days / 2 rest days Second guessings: I may have gone along the more mountainous northern coast of Sicily rather than the south coast. I should have dove in to Napoli for a taste of real Neopolitan pizza. I probably bit off more than I could chew. Sardinia itself could have taken 3 weeks to explore. I covered a lot of ground but didn't get to see everything such as the "heel" of Italy.

I like mid-May to mid-June since the kids are still in school, tourist traffic is low. Also, the weather is generally still cool so you don't burn up in your riding gear I'm highly impressed with Tuscany & Umbria as a riding destination. No mountain scenery but the picturesque landscape makes up for it in my opinion. Plus, lots of lodging to choose from as well as lots of good food Edited to add: oops! You wanted the best time for riding the Alps. Sorry. In any case, I think the Alps are a bit over-hyped. Granted, the scenery is unbeatable but after 78 hairpin curves in 22 kilometers, it's almost like work! Add to that the iffy mountain weather could mean the scenery is secluded in mist and rain while you get rained on Gimme fast sweepers in the south of France any day

I've reached 60,000 km on my Tenni! I'm glad I've finally got her broken in

There was a film put out in 1969 called Continental Circus that featured Findlay and a few others of the era. It's probably so obscure that it's probably not even available anymore. I'd pay dearly to see it.

I spoke with Vittorio Guareschi today and asked him if Guzzi has a sport bike in the pipeline. He said the only new model he is aware of is the big trailie. Of course he's not the final word but Papa Guareschi has good inside line with the factory.

Hi Joe, I apologize for the delay in responding. I've been on vacation since May 14 and haven't been able to check in here. Sure, you're more than welcome to use the trip report. I'm sorry the pictures aren't of better quality... errr, which web site you gonna post it on?

A couple years ago, somebody posted a thread on the oddball curses of Der Captain from the Katzenjammer Kids. I can't find the thread. Anyone remember that? Was there a web page?

This is what happens when you settle a border dispute over a few beers Baarle-Nassau/Baarle-Hertog

well...if it happened in that order, I think I'd have a few choice words for that Pope dude!

Check for an itinerary when you get there. When I went in 2002, they had an Italian Bike Night at the Crosby Hotel. A lot of interesting bikes showed up including an unbaffled MV Agusta triple that sounded like nothing I'd ever heard before...or since!

I'm just guessing but I think the GP rules back in the 60's didn't specify two-strokes or four-strokes...only the number of cylinders and number of gears allowed in gearboxes. When the FIM changed the rules in 1968 to no more than 6 speeds, 125s and 250s to no more than two cylinders and 350s and 500s to no more than four cylinders, this gave two-strokes an advantage. Honda has always wanted to race what they sell so, they saw no advantage to spending millions of Yen on two-stroke racing technology. After the 1968 rules changes, Honda took their ball and went Formula 1 racing. I believe MZ was the first factory to race two-strokes in the GPs in 1957...then Ernst Degner defected from East Germany to Suzuki and the rest is history

I wonder if any manufacturers will step up and provide 200cc four-strokes...or will the class become an amalgamation of ratty home-built specials?

I read this as you were riding the Laverda with your wife as a passenger. I didn't think it was too out of place that you reported your bike's damage and failed to mention your wife's injuries then I re-read it and figured she was riding her own bike anyways...sorry about your bike. Hoping for a quick recovery for both you and the bike.

Seen in Italy... A black Norge:

I'm surprised I'm the only Luddite here If I can't find my own way, I didn't need to go there no how I don't need my hand held by some beepin' gizmo I bet y'all wear those man purse things too...don't get me started on those little suitcase mounted on trolley wheels buncha girl's blouses

you make that sound like a bad thing

7 months It felt good to be back on two wheels

My Italian isn't very good so we didn't do much in depth discussion. If the big bore engine is the one with water cooling, I saw that one at the Guareschi shop in Parma. I'm not sure why it wasn't taken to Mugello. I did ask Guaro if he shouldn't paint the MGS-01 Tenni green He laughed and said it's not going to happen

While visiting Italy, I was invited to a track day at Mugello by the shop owner's son. Vito Guareschi moonlights as Ducati's Moto GP test rider while his brother Gianfranco races the MGS-01 for the Moto Guzzi factory. My mama didn't raise no fool and I quickly jumped at the invitation before he changed his mind. Mugello lies in a beautiful area of Tuscany about 45 minutes north of Florence. I didn't have time to walk around the track so I stayed in the pits snapping pictures like a star struck groupie. On this day, Vito would be conducting tire tests for Ducati aboard 2 new 1098s. Nice work if you can get it. Gianfranco would be practicing on the mighty, mighty MGS-01. Vito is on the left in the black sweatshirt while younger brother Gianfranco is on the right in the red sweatshirt. I felt like an infiltrator at a Grand Prix. There was a hospitality area with food set up. Of course, I acted like I belonged there and stepped right up and helped myself to the goods. This being Italy, an espresso machine is a requirement. Not to mention a bottle of Grappa and another bottle that contained some sorta liqeur that made my ears unfurl. meanwhile, the other half labored on their bikes out in the open... back inside, we lounged around the food table while a strolling violinist played soothing tunes. OK, I made the last part up. They had delicious sausage and some kind of thick bacon as well as prosciutto and cheeses and bread and different types of wine....I kept thinking someone was gonna throw me out. Gianfranco readies the mighty, mighty MGS-01 Even though the MGS-01 has been around for a couple of years, it still drew a gaggle of admirers even though the newer 1098 was parked right next to it. I'm not sure if this was a 50cc or a 125cc but it looked mighty trick. I kinda miss the bad ass two-stroke days I'm not sure who Guandalini Racing is...but they bring the money. Even a moped painted in team colors. Gianfranco briefs an Italian television race commentator about to take the MGS-01 for a spin Firing up the beast Differing reactions...awe from the guy in white...terror in the kid covering his ears...and a big grin from the oldtimer in the doorway.

I flew into Milan and grabbed a cab for the Estacione Centrale to catch a train to Parma. Cue picture of Milan's cavernous train station... Arriving in Parma after about 2 hours, I grab another quick cab ride to Moto Guareschi. Home base for my Gootsi where they lovingly fondle it and whisper sweet nuthins into its ears to get it to purr contentedly. After paying my bill and renewing my insurance, I'm ready to hit the road. I didn't really have a route planned other than to try to loop south through Tuscany. I hadn't made it 5 kilometers before I realized I forgot to put my ear plugs in. While stopped, a guy comes running up to me gushing about the Guzzi and wanting to take a picture with his cell phone. The fame of Guzzi ownership is something you never get used to. If only it had this effect on young women! Making my way westward out of Parma, I soon came upon the beautiful Torrechiara Castle built over 500 years ago in the Parma Valley. About 30 minutes later I came upon the ruins of another castle whose name escapes me. Continuing westward in the Province of Parma...a medeivel farming village in the foothills of the Apuan Alps... I continue climbing up over the Apuan Alps and into Tuscany. I'm surprised to see there's still quite a bit of snow on the ground. Unfortunately, the day is overcast so I didn't think to take any pictures. The sky turns menacingly dark in spots and for a few moments I worry that I'm about to get drenched but alas, my fears are unfounded and I'm spared. While studying the map, I notice the Cinque Terre region on the Ligurian coast. Hmmmm. In an instant, a change in plans. Tuscany would have to wait a day. I'm this close to the Ligurian coast, why not? This is one of the reasons I don't book hotels in advance...I never know where I'll end up! I grabbed a hotel room in the seaside resort of Portvenere and enjoyed a nice seafood meal. The Cinque Terre region is named after five villages precariously perched on the rocky shores of eastern Liguria. Kinda has a California Highway 1 vibe going... The village of Riomaggiore. more coastline... I think this is looking down on the village of Manarola. They have toll booths set up before you get into each town. I can't say that I blame them or otherwise they'd be swamped by tourist traffic in the summertime. I think this is a picture of the village of Vernazza with the village of Corniglia in the distance. It was midday by the time I reached the last village of Monterosso so, I turned around and headed back south towards Tuscany and the Apuan Alps. The Apuan Alps are impressive indeed. While they don't reach the same heigths as their more famous namesake, they seem impressive enough just the same and the roads are no less a challenge. The northern part of Tuscany is more rugged and mountainous than the south. An abandoned farmhouse in northern Tuscany Where's that confounded bridge? The last time I was in Tuscany, I spent a few hours trying to find this bridge. It was right here the whole time! The Ponte di Maddalena near the town of Lucca. It was built over 700 years ago. It was one of the few bridges not blown up by the Germans during World War II because they didn't think the Allies could get Sherman tanks across it. I stopped for the night in the beautiful town of Bagni di Lucca. Before I left Parma, Vito Guareschi had invited me to a track day at Mugello. Not being no fool, I quickly took him up on his offer. It might be the closest I ever get to a GP! Leaving Bagni di Lucca for Mugello, I came across another ancient looking bridge. Determined not to use the Autostrade, I forced myself into downtown Florence, determined to make my way north. I'm a Luddite who refuses to use such aids as GPS so I plowed ahead. Unfortunately, I ended up getting lost big time. Each time I decided to retreat to the relative safety of the Autostrada, I'd spy another sign that would only lure me deeper into its clutches. I finally gave up after about an hour and made my way north along the Autostrada to Mugello.... When they aren't working at Papa Guareschi's Guzzi shop, Vito Guareschi is Ducati's Moto GP test pilot. Nice work if you can get it. Gianfranco Guareschi races the MGS-01 for the Guzzi factory. On this day, Vito was testing tires on a pair of new 1098s I left Mugello at 3 p.m. as it was a gorgeous day and I wanted to get some more riding in. The hills around Mugello offer some great roads, including the famous Paso di Futa, where Ducati test riders ride from nearby Bologna. The sun was getting down to that golden hour time and yet, I didn't want to stop riding. I pressed on through the golden sunlight This isn't a side street. This is the main road through this small town...beautiful A sunny day on a motorcycle in Tuscany...does not suck. Tuscan twisties Finally, around 6 p.m., I called it quits and found a hotel near the racetrack. The next day would be my last and I would have to make my way back to Parma. But I still had time to enjoy the Tuscan roads until heading north at midday. I made my way through the hilly terrain to the beautiful town of Stia. Stia has a wonderful medeival town square. I finally ran out of time and began heading north. Unfortunately, I had to use the Autostrada to make time but, you have to take the good with the bad. I left the bike with the Guareschi boys, bade my farewells and made my way back to Milan. One more for the road.

I'm no bike set up expert but I remember seeing Ashley whutshisname race a Tenni at the '02 Isle of Man. Going through Rhencullen, he had a fierce head shake. It looked as if the poor Tenni had a hinge in the middle I later heard that he retired due to a broken steering dampener. So, it seems at racing speeds, a steering dampener might help if Ashley retired rather than continue without one. mind you that might only matter if you're planning on racing at the Isle of Man

(tap, tap, tap on monitor) is this thing on?

Dang...since 1974 and I'd never even heard of them kudos to them for surviving. Lots of fairing companies have gone under. Great report...good lookin' roads...good lookin' bike

I had a chance to purchase a '78 900 SS in 1983 for $3200. I didn't and I still kick myself over that.