How do I love my Ducati? Let me count the ways. I own a 1998 Ducati ST2 which I purchased new from Geoff Hawkins at GP Motorcycles in San Diego. I never actually saw it in it's factory black birthday suit, opting immediately upon delivery to have Don Franks paint it red using custom decals. It was the first of four Ducati motorcycles which occupied a space in my garage, yet it is still the one which remains after 18+ years. Ownership has not been without shades of misfortune and grief, however, but I could not wish for the experience to have been any different. This bike has taken me south into Mexico and north into Canada, west to Nevada, Utah, Colorado and Arizona. And there are many more places we will go.
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| At Four Corners in 2008 |
Ok then..... Is it because of the time a fuel pump hose inside the tank came undone and left me stranded with no fuel pressure near Pine Valley?
Is it because of the (one of many) time the rectifier failed and allowed the battery to drain, leading to a police escort (literally) through the streets of Brea, CA? I've been through 4 rectifiers, one failure barely allowing me to limp home from Phoenix, AZ.Or is it the time the front brakes locked coming down Palomar Mountain, the front tire leaving two sequential 50 foot skid marks as I released pressure and re-applied before ending in a ditch?
Or the time the shifter return spring broke, necessitating both lifting and pushing the lever between every shift?
How about the time the left axle adjuster plate shattered, loosening the chain, jamming it between the sprocket and swingarm, causing the rear tire to lock solid (coming down Palomar again)?
How about the abrupt failure of the clutch slave seal that dumped all the clutch fluid on the street at once, leaving me stranded hours from home with no way to fix or ride out?
Or the time a ground short against the frame fried the battery into a melted blue blob out in the Anza Borrego desert, stranding me hours from home?
Or the nail I picked up that slowly deflated the rear tire, tipping over onto its garage neighbor, incurring the scratched paint and broken plastic that comes with failure to keep the rubber side down?
Fuses were occasionally blown; a radiator hose sprung a leak; a minor bracket weld failed.
And it wasn't the bike's fault that I got sick as a dog for 2 days after something nasty incubated in my Camelbak water reservoir while riding from Mexico to Canada that one year. Nor the bird that I hit riding the 78 a few weeks back.
So, how I love my Ducati is actually because of all these things and none of these things. And to be fair, none of these are truly faults or reflections of the motorcycle, its' design or its' manufacture. These could have happened on any bike and to any owner.
It is a tangible history and a shared story. It is part of me and my history. The Ducati marque has and continues to make history, and in many ways I feel I am carried along with it. We experienced these things together and shared the feelings of triumph following a great day or trip; and commiserated in the disappointment over mechanical failure and momentary hardship. We witnessed early morning obscurities of cold fog give way to the warmth of bright and sunny skies, revealing endless pine tree dotted ridges and asphalt stairways disappearing past distant postcard vistas. We took to Willow Springs raceway for our first time in 1998 less than 24 hours after riding through half-frozen slush and driving sleet to get there.
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| 50,000 miles in May 2013 |
Now past it's 50K mile mark as its owner just passed his own, the ST2 model has aged quite gracefully, although sport-tourers long dropped from the manufacturer's model line. Designed roughly 20 years ago by Miguel Galluzzi around the 900 Monster frame, it is as appealing today as it was futuristic back then. May we remain in riding partnership for another 20 years (unless the Multistrada has too much to say about that....!).
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