Any motorcycle worth its salt is fast enough to scramble your vision, reset your adrenal system and put primal fear into your mamma.
As a species, we're meant to run like hell from things like these. That hasn't changed since the 1920s when motorcycles made the leap from playthings to daredevil toys inclined to huck you sideways down a boardtrack if you clenched your cigarette too tightly between your teeth. As a breed, they're a hell of a lot of fun.
Motorcycles keep our mortality exposed and our heads in the air, uninsulated from sights and sounds and smells. They appeal to us on our most primal level, that part itching to run towards a thing that might bite. Great motorcycles look good and add a notion of logic that you can wave at your mother like a flag while she quietly weeps for her genes. The Ducati Scrambler is a proud member of that long tradition. If you're wondering what motorcycling is about, it's this.
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