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Hopz sold his bike but here is something I wrote years ago... enjoy


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The Cruel Italian Girl


It was destiny. It had to happen someday. Once fate introduced us I could not avoid her charms.  I suppose it wasn't her exactly but those like her and her type that first attracted me. Then it was she, she alone, that demanded my attention.


At first it was the look, the curves, the feel of her, then came lust, then love. Only afterwards came the inevitable drifting apart, letting go and separation. The story is old, predictable, inevitable, destined from the start.


When we were first together it was clear she was going to hurt me and leave me in pain, not just physically but emotionally. Always expecting more than I could give, she wanted, no, she demanded all I had and yet it was never going to be enough. Slowly then, it came... the realization that it was not working; that it would never work. We were just of different worlds.


She was blatantly and passionately Italian. Not always rational but forever classy. She was made up with brute force and directness but that was always finely balanced with elegance and precision. Underlying it all and forever at her core was that "intensity". An insistence. A demand for more, more, and more. Let it all out. Go faster, always giving the impression that that is not enough.... It never mattered to her if our roads together were rough or smooth. The rocky patches and ups and downs just made it better. Nothing  ruffled her, there was never too much. Always accepting it as it was and saying ok... give me more.


She was high maintenance and declared so explicitly and tolerated nothing less. She was expensive and not shy about it. She expected the fare to be paid, money to be spent and she seemed proud of it. If you want to play with her you must pay.


In the beginning she had her faults but together we worked through them. Some we fixed some we came to accept. I found she would give a little but I would have to give a lot. It wasn't always a clean transaction. Some days I felt dirty afterwards. She transferred her grit and grime to me but she was better for it. Above it all, all she ever wanted was to give pleasure; whether it was me or another, it never really mattered to her. She was built for that and that alone no matter who was with her. She never held back.


I will miss her and think of her often. Of course, knowing her, I do not expect the same in return. There are few of her type. They are rare but they are available at the right price if you know where to look. Some have lived hard lives, some were pampered and kept away from others but they are all heartless and cold until the right buttons are pushed, then the fury begins.


So that's the story and the end is drawing near. She will leave me soon moving along to another but those memories will remain. The good times, the pain and the joy we had.


Caio baby, you were the best... Ducati 900i Supersport.

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