I finally got to pick up the bike I ordered 2 years ago on Friday the 25th of July. Or rather, as I was in Spain I asked Chris who works for me if he'd like to pick it up for me and then spend the rest of the day putting as many miles on it as possible to help me run it in.

Surprisingly his answer was not "No Dave I've got a lot to do here in the office, I don't think it would be a good use of my time", but more along the lines of "Fuck, yeah hang on it's not April 1st is it?"

He went down to Winchester to Moto Rapido, who I'd originally ordered it from as they were the only dealer I phoned who could be bothered to call me back and relieve me of £37500, the others didn't appear to be interested. Seems like a good choice as Wilf the boss has his own Desmo which he lent to Foggy for a demo lap at the TT. The first service was booked for Wednesday and Eurotunnel for 7.20am Friday.

Chris did 250 miles without incident, even managing to get back through South London without getting bike-jacked, and reported that it was a great bike but that it got very hot and only did 70 miles before reserve. For my planned ride back to Spain that could be a problem, but I reckoned I'd be glad to get off it every hour or so.

I arrived back at the shop www.fwr.co.uk on Monday afternoon with all the usual work stuff to do (mainly suppliers asking why they hadn't been paid, well that was obvious I had the bike to pay for) and it was absolutely beautiful, looked much better than in the photos or at the shows. It's covered in beautiful little details and definitely looks hand-built.

Wednesday morning I was up at 5.30 like a kid on Christmas morning, rode the Bandit down to the shop and picked up the Duke. This was a trial run with the rucksack as well, because I never ride with a rucksack but Ducati have ensured that the beautiful lines of their bike cannot be sullied by luggage, with an aluminium tank and the exhaust exiting behind the seat, you can't strap anything on. My friend John skived off work to come along on his R1, and we set off to Winchester.

The ride to John's house in West London through rush hour traffic was horrible. The bike didn't tick over and the heat was awful. It was still beautiful to look at though.

We got on the M40 to get out of town and things got better straight away. Once you get over 80 there is less heat around the seat and the wind takes the pressure off your arms.
We got past Oxford and then turned off onto some A roads but as always in England there was too much traffic. After 70 miles the light came on for fuel but it only took 11.5 litres so there was 4 left. Works out at 28mpg!

We rode South, but couldn't find any traffic free roads. When we reached Melksham we cut across Salisbury Plain and for the first time I was enjoying the bike on the fast open road. We got to Winchester, and Moto Rapido did the first service at 430 miles a bit early but OK and told me how to fit the race exhaust which I'm going to do in Spain as it's ridiculously loud (won't pass track day noise limits in England).

Rode straight back on the M3 where the Desmo proved to be a good motorway bike at 100+ it's reasonably comfortable and fuel economy improves to 30mpg. Got back to the shop with 500 miles on the clock, so the run to Dover would see running in finished. I was apprehensive about the trip, as the bike was so hot and it's 40 degrees here in Spain.

4.30 on Friday morning my alarm goes off. I'd packed my little rucksack the night before, pair of trainers, pair of jeans 4 prs pants 4 prs socks 1 T shirt, 1 book 1 bike mag, toothbrush and paste, maps phone. Oh, and a camera that didn't work. Doh! Not much for 31/2 days. Rode down to the shop, picked up the bike and headed for the Tunnel. This time it was much better leaving London. Early enough to avoid the traffic and cooler that early in the morning. A good ride down to Folkestone, the usual chaos at the Tunnel with people not getting on the trains they'd booked and trains leaving with space on them while people waited in the holding area. I got on the train I'd booked but the other guys on my train were all booked on the one before. Despite arriving on time at Check in they hadn't been allowed on the train they'd booked. I'd only booked the Tunnel cos I didn't fancy having the bike tied down on the ferry.

Off at Calais and time to try the bike out properly. Cruising at 110 on the motorway to Rouen, no comfort problems not too much heat and 32mpg. This bike works better the faster you go. It's a good motorway bike and the V4 drone is great brings back memories of TT's and Bols D'Or of days gone by.

Off the motorway at Rouen and A roads to Chartres, back on the motorway again just before Orleans, and straight into a 24km tailback. My bollocks are starting to cook as I filter through the traffic, so stop at the services for some lunch and to let the bike cool down. Everywhere is packed, it's the first weekend of August and Europe is on the move. High petrol prices? Recession? No sign of it here. I'm a bit disappointed that no-one takes a blind bit of notice of the bike, apart from some kids who like the colour.
I get off the main A1 and onto the A71 and the traffic eases. Back to 110-120 and the bike is comfy again. Onto the A20 and I'm at the turn off for Limoges by 4pm and at the hotel I'd chosen at 4.30 about 20km South of Limoges on the N21 to Perigueux

Les Tuileries in Souilhac, highly recommended. 500 miles the first day, still felt OK only 1000 to go. After an excellent meal of Foie Gras fish steak and dessert, washed down with a nice Cotes Du Rhone and a Calvados, I was in bed at 10.30 ready for an early start to beat the heat. I'd noticed the chain had stretched a bit and was almost touching the (no doubt hideously expensive) carbon fibre belly pan.

At 7 I was on the road and at 7.30 I found a car workshop open who lent me the tools to adjust the chain. With all my strength and a 2ft bar I got the rear wheel nut undone. It was definitely f-tight. Chain adjusted, oil topped up. It had used about 20cl in 500 miles (better than my CBR1000RR) I was on my way. At that time on Saturday morning the N21 was empty and the Desmo felt good on the sweeping turns, but there were still too many villages to slow down for. Past Perigueux and Bergerac, heading for St Jean Pied du Port and the Pyrenees, the sun came out and I could see the mountains ahead. I stopped for lunch in St Jean, a last French meal before the culinary wasteland that is Spain, a good feed of Confit de Canard chips and salad.

Then the pass over the Pyrenees, a bit tight and twisty for the Desmo, the super powerful brakes need caution, and the very stiff suspension doesn't like the bumps in the frost damaged mountain road surfaces. THIS IS NOT A ROAD BIKE. But it's still lovely to be riding something this beautiful this red and built with this much quality. There are no rattles or buzzes, the mirrors don't vibrate, the thing never even hints that it might break down. Still doesn't tick over very well mind, but the exhaust note bouncing off the rock lined walls of the mountain road make the rising heat around my sensitive parts almost bearable. Keeping it above 80 on this tight mountain road is impossible in parts and when the speed drops, the heat rises.

Coming down the mountain into Spain the speeds rise but so does the outside temperature. By Pamplona it's up to 30 and uncomfortable below 100. So I get on the motorway and head for Logrono At 125 on the empty motorway I get 34mpg but the heat from the seat is still noticeable. I decide to stop in Logrono, it's the capital of La Rioja, should get a good feed and some nice wine. My ass is HOT now and my left leg is burning. I spot a hotel, AC La Rioja, with underground private parking. Perfect. My left leg is burning now, it's painful. I press the intercom for the parking, they have a room, I don't ask the price, I don't care I just want to get off the bike. I park the bike, go into the beautifully air conditioned reception and check in. Thankfully the room is only 80 euros including parking. For a 4star hotel. I love Spain.

It's only 3pm, I've only done 360 miles today but I'm happy to stop. I have a shower and my leg stops hurting. I have a nap and go down to the town. The lady at reception tells me the Calle Laurel is full of Tapas bars. It is the food is delicious the wine is great. Each bar has its' own speciality tapa. I try them all with a beer or a glass of wine in each. It's a good town. I walk back to the hotel at 11 ready for a 7am start to beat the heat.

At 7am the temperature is 14 degrees. Normally I'd be cold. On the Duc with it's seat heater (just like a Volvo) I'm warm. The road snakes off into the mountains, it's only just light. What a fantastic bike. After 20km I realise I'm going the wrong way. Get the map out plot a route. I go cross country to the A1 the main road from the North to Madrid.

On the A1 I meet all those holiday makers heading South again The first services are full, big queues for the pumps, I can make the next ones, or turn off at Burgos. I up the speed to use less fuel, pushing the Scenics and Mercs and Beemers out of the way with the roaring exhaust and the projector headlights.

I fill up at a small service station on the A1 but coming back to the motorway cross some chevrons. A police car spots me and pulls me over. A 42 euro on the spot fine makes it an expensive tank of petrol.. The copper is one of the few people I've met who knows what the bike is. Does that really cost 10 million pesetas? he asks. Not in England I reply, they're cheaper there.

I take the motorway past Madrid; it's empty until I join the A4 south. I leave it at km139 heading for Ciudad Real. It's 35 degrees now, 12 noon. I'm on the A road heading for Ciudad Real and stop for petrol. Only 400km from home now so I phone my wife and tell her I'll be home that afternoon. She's happy as I thought it'd take another day. After filling up I set off but I'm burning again, the heat from the exhaust is cooking me. I get on a short motorway to Ciudad Real but even at 130 the heat is too much. I have to stop.

I check in to the NH hotel which I know has secure parking. I ring my wife again and tell her it will be tomorrow. 350 miles again today, only 260 to go. It's 38 degrees in town. I go to a bar and watch the Formula One and WSS from Brands while eating the worst meal I've ever had. I refuse to pay for it and have a big row with the owner who sees nothing wrong with serving fried chicken bones when they run out of chicken breast. I pay for the beers and leave.

In the evening I go out for a Chinese and a couple of beers, and set the alarm for 6.15 for the final time I'm looking forward to riding the N420 in the cool of the morning, and there is a town in the way, Puertollano that takes a while to get through and I can't do that in the heat of the day.

It's 24 degrees at 7am when I leave, it's just light. At 130 on the motorway to Puertollano the bike is just sipping fuel. I reach Puertollano, fill up and I'm through the town without getting cooked. Onto the N420 as it crosses the mountains into Andalucia, it's all fifth and sixth gear sweeping corners never dropping below 100, big leans, not much braking, it's Desmosedici territory. The engine sounds fantastic and the only problems are mid-corner bumps where the super stiff suspension bounces the bike across the road. I learn to look closely at the road surface. It's not an easy bike to ride, it does what you tell it to immediately.

On the Jap sportsbikes I've owned for many years the brakes are soft, the engine is soft, the suspension is soft - everything has a little lag to it, to give you a chance to change your mind if you've made a wrong control input. Not so with this bike. You touch the brakes, they're on. You turn into a corner, you don't have to wait for the suspension to settle, cos it doesn't. You open the throttle and above 7000 off it goes with a very sharp transition to the power band. I can't wait to get it on track at Jerez, where it'll be sublime.

At the end of the 100 kms of biking heaven that is the N420 Puertollano to Montoro road I rejoin the A4 and straight into a 15km tailback for an overturned lorry. I leave the motorway and get on the little 4m wide service road that runs alongside most Spanish motorways. We rejoin after the accident. A truck on it's side blocking the whole road. A proper crash. Past Cordoba on the motorway, some big fast turns on the A4 there and off at unpronounceable Ecija, take the B road to Marchena, fast and straight no traffic, as fast as the motorway, through Moron de la Frontera where I meet the second person who knows what the bike is, a petrol station attendant. He loves it. "I never thought I'd see one here" he says as he carefully fills it up.

Half an hour later I'm home. 4 hours later I do something I've never done before after a ride. I clean the bike. It looks beautiful sparkling in the Andalucian sun.

Only Ducati could have made a bike like this. I wondered why Honda didn't but I know now. Honda couldn't turn out anything as raw uncivilised and damn hard to ride as this. A lot are going to be crashed. It really is the MotoGP bike with some civilising touches, but you have to ride it really hard to make it work at all. I only got a few glimpses in 2000 miles of road riding on some good fast roads. It's going to take a GP circuit to really get it to make sense, and Jerez is closed all this month. Roll on September!