Allow me to apologize in advance. This is one of those "I was meandering through Italy on someone else's nickel" stories that make everyone suspect a motojournalist's life is nothing but expense accounts and nonstop chianti. Really sorry. Anyway, there we were, at the Moto Guzzi factory in Mandello del Lario, northern Italy, adjacent to the spirit-raising Lake Como. Through a series of miscuesgetting lost on the Autostrada, concocting a schedule that at once had too much free time and not enoughwe needed another rental car. The solution was to have one of the factory test riders carry a factory race mechanic on the back of a V11 Sport to the next town, Lecco, to fetch the car. As it was my expense account, I followed on the Breva. Let's just say that Moto Guzzi and the local polizia have an understanding. We hauled ashes to the next town, with me twisting the Breva's poor little guts out. At some stage, the V11 pulled away and I found myself topped out in fourth, with the 750 not quite pulling fifth. For a couple of kilometers, I chased the V11 with the Breva edging into and out of the rev limiter. We arrived in Lecco and deposited the mechanic. My guide smiled, stubbed out his cigarette for the trip back to the factory and said, "Now we go."