Motorcyclists are an opinionated lot. Here at Motorcyclist, we've done studies. Extensive full-body imaging by the Last Page Labs' unlicensed MRI machine doesn't lie. We've found that Harley guys don't fire a single synapse of recognition when shown a photo of a V-Max, but their endorphin centers light up at the sound of a Big Twin. Meanwhile, Honda riders' disgust glands (located just south of the duodenum) squirt a bitter load into the bloodstream at the sight of a Hayabusa. And Kawasaki riders get a queasy, metallic taste in their mouths if they're forced to follow an R1.
But these reactions are nothing compared to the bile-spewing rage elicited by a Ducati-oriented issue of Motorcyclist-say like maybe our February issue, by now resting spent and dog-eared on the floor next to your nightstand. Sure enough, that issue was pretty much a humid, inbred love-in for all things Ducati. Those already infected with the Ducati simplex virus find such issues to be utterly delightful. The non-Ducati people, however, gag back violent McNuggets reflux at the sight of yet another red Italian lump on the cover.
If you're one of the latter group, it's unlikely that this image will sit well with you. It's a preview of next month's cover story titled "Ultimate Ducati Smackdown: Golly they're all winners!" Feel free to send your angry E-mail to the usual inbox, and don't spare the profanity.