Francesca lives.

Getting there has been a 7-week odyssey in which I have learned the true depths of motorcycle shop incompetence in Los Angeles. I have had to buy $300 in tools, have twice had to order away to Nuremberg for parts, and have bought enough shit from Galfer that they sent me a t-shirt.

But Francesca lives. And she's had her 10k km service. And her valve lash is correct. And her throttle bodies are balanced. And her chain is tensioned. And her oil is changed. And her fuel and air filters are new (and her air filter was $130). And the fact that f'ing $8/ft magic Brembo (Brembo: "We're so awesomely Italian that you'll take our 8-day warranty and like it!" Brembo: "Brake light switches are $20 extra!" Brembo: "Oh, you wanted a mirror mount with that? $40!") brake tubing sweats. Call up MCSM and say "your magic $8/ft brake tubing sweats" and they say "oh we've never heard that before!" but you google "brake tubing sweat" you discover that this is just something Ducati fucks put up with because they're the Harley shitheads of Italy and then you have to order EPDM tubing from McMaster Carr. Which still has to go on the bike, which still needs its brakes bled again, but so long as we're re-plumbing the goddamn reservoirs anyway, it's ride-able.

So aside from everything else, I'm having a tumbler of Ardbeg Uigeadail.

A tumbler I was due to have in f'ing July.