Unfinished Project [Part Two] Getting There.

we tip up at the italian bike owners gig at port st mary around 1900hrs, the temperature has taken a big dip from this afternoon and the threat of rain soon turns into reality with a steady, fine drizzle, the old manx railway station is already packed when we arrive, the streets around are thronging with italian loveliness, sorry for the lack of photo's but my neck was out on stilts scoping the greatness that is italian motorcycles, a line of factory fresh treble-eights, monster's of every shape and capacity, mv's from little one-two-fives to triples, fours and magni's, laverda's? yep, the massive jota's and my own favourite, the montjuic's are all present and correct, itom's? yep, two stroke's represented?, you knows it, gileras, moto-guzzi's and everything else, all here under a dark grey, cold, cloudy sky. ridden not hidden and then, there's the ducati's, not that i'm biased mind, but, well, when the blue 'radical ducati' turned up in a bowel-loosening, deep, air-cooled cacophony, well, let's just say, that was it, only one thing left to do, off to 'the albert' for a pint and my new favourite barmaid telling me where cal crutchlow is going wrong, [cal lives on the isle of man by the way] 'passed him the other morning, he's on a tricked out mountain bike, fully lycred oop and breathing through his arse,  i'm away to fetch the milk and papers on me shopping bike, three-speed, rigid, shouted 'morning cal' he wasn't amused' don't fuck with the locals.........