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Welcome, Manuel.
Congrats on your GRiSO. You no doubt already know what a delightful handfiul it is compared to your II. My GRiSO is now in Florida with a younger caretaker, but I still have my II, a Stornello, which is a delight in its own right.
And, ah, your "small town near Vicenza, in Italy," brings back so many fond memories. I lived in Zanè, virtually part of Thiene, for three years back in another century. Sigh, tempus sure does fugit.
The Carabinieri at Caserma Ederle with whom I worked are to blame for my terminal affliction with Moto Guzzi. I miss those bubbas.
[You must be registered and logged in to see this image.]We have been back numerous times since. Always delightful.
Back in that day, however, I was WAY more interested in road bikes of the pedaling sort. Alcide Basso -- another unforgettable and wonderful Italian -- built one for me that I still have. I rode with a local bunch of guys, Veloce Club Thiene. Joy.
I do vividly remember the day I thought that perhaps motorcycles might be a better choice for my already aging body.
It was, I think, on a hot day c. 1979. I was riding solo up -- with stress on "
UP" -- that L.O.N.G run of SP 349 to Asiago. About halfway along the set of serious switchbacks, I took a break. As I sat there alongside the road, wondering if I were man enough to make it to the top ... [turns out I was, but it was a near thing.
] I heard a sound that paused my bout of self pity to listen more intently.
I have told this story before, maybe even here, but I searched and could not find it. Nostalgia does its predictable thing, but it is a vivid memory that I don't think I have "embellished" ... too much, anyway.
I knew enough to know it was a motorcycle, maybe two, starting up those switchbacks. There was that unmistakable sound of roaring up the short straights, followed by decel, then, after the near 180º turns to left or right, the pour-it-on of throttles twisting to their max. What a grand sound.
But the sight that followed made the sound pale. Two Laverdas -- then made nearby in Breganze -- with pillions appeared. At least I think there were two motos; doesn't matter, I suppose.
The pilots were in all all black racing leathers; their pillions in more colorful ones. One, in purple; yes, really. Contrasted nicely with her long dark hair at the back of her helmet.
But, before they came around that last hairpin and into view, I got up and pretended to be adjusting my bike's seatpost or something equally believable. It would not do, of course, for me to be seen exhausted.
I was fit and had no gut to suck in then, but I am sure I tried anyway. The Laverdas slowed a bit as they passed by, then hit afterburners as the pilots showed me "the better way" to ride. No doubt my imagination has "helped" my memory, but I recall as if yesterday one of those pillions looking back at me and waving.
Kathi, my Perfect Pillion & Polish Princess
is never as enchanted with hearing that tale as I am in recounting it, but she doesn't lurk here (much), so I am probably safe. Thanks for giving me the opportunity.
Finally, I note your "I'm an English teacher at middle school."
That will come in very handy on this forum, as the Aussies and Kiwis here may learn something useful from your erudition.
Buon Natale e Felice Anno Nuovo!
Bill
Subject: Hello everyone! 
Fri Dec 01, 2023 9:25 pm
