When I stood in the driveway putting my gloves on, I could hardly believe that my gorgeous, red devil is now 10 years old. When I look at it, I still think it is one of the most beautiful motorcycles ever made.

In some ways when I look at my Ducati, memories of it being my daily rider seem like yesterday. And yet, they seem like a whole lifetime ago. The 996 was always an extreme relationship.

Riding it always touched an emotional part of me that no other bike had. It has something special in it’s feel, it’s sound. Grabbing a fist full of throttle unleashes an exhaust note from it’s Termignoni cans that can set your heart on fire with a deep, resonating rumble.

When I returned home from my ride, I was tickled pink. It just felt so good get to know that bike again.

It was wheeled in to the garage and put back on the battery tender. And then,… the strong smell of gasoline filled the garage. ::drip::drip::drip:: Drops of gas fell from the underside of the tank. ::sigh::

There’s that wonderful Ducati-mystique I missed so much. Pfft.