Chapter 8 - The road from Verona to Modena

The sun was hot, my jacket was off and I lounged on the grassy bank between the gas station and the main road, this vantage point gave me a perfect view of the road I had just come down and where Phil and Ed should be coming down soon. Strictly speking I should be able to hear them before I saw them, but I could flail my arms wildly to further attract their attention.

Approx an hour later on cue I hear the bassy drone of some high revving big twins and spot Phil crunched up behind his double bubble screen giving it the large. 'Fast Eddie not far behind. Phil boomed past ignoring my impotent arm flailing, Ed however indicated and pulled in. One down, now we were two, but Phil was shifting and decreasing to a speccy drone in the distance with a red light in the middle. Blimey he was paying partial attention and noticed Ed was no longer behind him, He'd obviously braked hard, I was jumping up and down muttering profanities, he was about half a mile away.

The next thing we knew, he's driving back to us, up the wrong side of the carraigeway, up the exit ramp against the traffic back into the station grinning like a mischevious school boy. We were three, the TL triumvirete road train was once more restored.

We harangued each other for at least ten minutes. They had realized I was absent soon after exiting the lay-by back in Austria and went back to look for me (apparentley) which was strange as I'm sure we would have noticed each other, they turned round again and re-retraced their tyre marks, quick to notice the fork in the road that I had turned down, I speculated that in their horsepower greedhead mode they had originally sailed straight past this junction and by the time they had turned round and come back I had passed through and turned off. By the time they had inadvertantedly found the correct route I was about eighty miles down the road.

My phone call had been opportune and perfectly timed. They were gassing up wandering what to do next, 'ring ring' difficult decision averted. They had also encountered the same ribbon of slow moving traffic that I had, hence Phil's impatience as the road opened up before him.

Phil had got the bit between his teeth and had wound the TLS up to max, stressed with the seemingly apalling slow progress (sub 80mph apparently) Thank goodness Ed had listened to my instructions, chucking on the anchors just in time to intercept at the given location.

We ate ice creams on a glorious summer early afternoon, the sussuration of wide tyred big touring cars and motor homes swooshing past us heading south,.Re-united we all studied the map for the next stage of the journey. Once more the TL road train was ready to rock and roll.

We would cover the next 60 miles or so out of the mountainous north Italian border country into the flood plain of the lowlands and drove through to Modena. The road from Verona to Modena was an A road and not fast autostrada. One sustained blast and if we overshot, into Bologna where that ubiquitous spag bol owes its existence, but more importantly the desmodromic V-twin heart of the crimson devil.
The relatively parochial neighbourhood of multi world championship winning 851, 888 and 916's second home to that wild eyed Englishman with sunken staring sockets cold cruel eyes sweeping aggresively aside all before him - Mister Fogarty. Duelling the best in the world on the way to four magnificent World Superbike titles. The Ducati factory where many had made pilgramage and paid homage. We were renegades in this country, no pure blood thoroughbred with their temperament and foibles amongst us. No time for whimsy and starry eyes, our thousand yard stares were not into space but the next corner. We had a mission to accomplish, and fast.

The road was a revelation, I tell yea! We barely touched the ground as we scorched across the flatlands. Their dual carraigeway was A road still but with fuck all traffic on it. There was sporadic and token cars along its length but for all intents and purpose empty. We cruised around the 130mph mark getting bored and occasionally blasting up to 150 overtaking each other.

No joke this black ribbon was flat, smooth straight and went on for about 60 miles or more, we made it in no time at all - funnily enough! By this time the visibility was dropping, turning greyer and with a misting of precipitance in the air, the road surface had a slight sheen and I could feel the bike start to move about as the contact patch was minimal at that sort of speed, I could feel myself breathing, ragged breaths echoing around inside my lid as I kept the TLR screwed tight.