The Joys and Pain of Long-Term Ownership of an Italian Motorcycle

By a Devoted Rider Who Knows Both Sides of the Coin

There’s something undeniably magnetic about Italian motorcycles. Whether it’s a Ducati, Moto Guzzi, Aprilia, or MV Agusta, the Italians have always had a way of designing machines that stir the soul. They’re not just motorcycles — they’re rolling art, mechanical poetry, and adrenaline-fueled expressions of passion. But owning one long-term isn’t always a love story written in smooth curves and echoing exhaust notes. It’s a complex relationship full of joy, heartache, and everything in between.

Italian motorcycles are designed not just to function, but to feel. From the first time you swing a leg over and fire one up, you know you’re dealing with something different. The engine note doesn’t just thrum — it sings. It howls, it roars, it speaks in a language that bypasses logic and hits you straight in the chest.

The handling is often sublime. Italian bikes are known for their finesse in the corners, their willingness to dance with the rider rather than simply obey. You don’t ride a Ducati or Aprilia — you partner with it. You lean into corners with trust, and the machine rewards you with stability, response, and pure satisfaction.

There’s also pride in ownership. When you park an Italian bike, people notice. Other riders come up to chat. It sparks conversation, admiration, sometimes even envy. Owning one sets you apart, not just because of the price tag or the styling, but because you’ve committed to something with history, culture, and unmistakable personality.

Ask any long-term Italian motorcycle owner, and they’ll sigh — perhaps with a wry smile — before recounting a list of frustrations. Electrical gremlins, questionable parts availability, maintenance quirks, and odd design decisions are all part of the package. What the Italians give with one hand in beauty and performance, they often take away with reliability and practicality.

Wiring looms routed through hot parts of the engine. Side stands with sensors that cut the bike off mid-ride. Fuel gauges that lie like politicians. And if you’ve ever tried to source a gasket for a ten-year-old Moto Guzzi, you know it might involve emailing a man named Sergio who only responds on Thursdays — if the moon is right. If I ever get stopped on my T3 and the officer says to me " Do you know how fast you were going?". I'll say "According to my speedo 140 to 185 KPH sir". They don't call them Vague Liar gauges for nothing.

Then there’s the cost of maintenance. Italian motorcycles are not built for economy. Valves need adjusting more often than you’d like, and it’s rarely a cheap job. Specialized tools, dealer-only diagnostics, and the sheer labor of accessing certain components can drain your wallet faster than a Desmoquattro hits redline.

And heaven help you if something major goes wrong outside warranty. A cracked fairing or blown ECU could cost more than an entire second-hand Japanese bike. Insurance companies don’t always smile kindly on obscure models with hard-to-source parts. Owning long-term means you learn patience — and how to swear in Italian.

But here’s the paradox: despite all the pain, long-term ownership builds a deeper bond.

You don’t love an Italian bike in spite of its flaws — you love it because of them. You come to understand its moods, its peculiar needs. Like an old friend or a difficult lover, it teaches you about compromise, resilience, and forgiveness. You learn how to finesse a cold start on a temperamental morning, or how to tighten that one bolt that always rattles loose. And when it runs — when it really runs — all the grief disappears in a single twist of the throttle.

The longer you own it, the more the bike becomes part of your story. You remember not just the perfect rides, but the breakdowns and roadside repairs. The trip that almost didn’t happen because of a faulty fuel pump. The friend who helped you rebuild the clutch over beers in the garage. The late nights scouring forums for some obscure fix that finally worked.

You don’t get that kind of bond with a flawless, easy machine. You get it from something that makes you earn your joy.

Long-term ownership of an Italian motorcycle isn’t for everyone. If you want pure practicality, buy a Honda. If you want something that runs like a sewing machine and never surprises you, look elsewhere.

But if you want soul — if you want to feel something every time you ride, to own a machine that inspires stories, demands attention, and occasionally breaks your heart — then an Italian motorcycle might be the perfect choice. The joy is real, the pain is inevitable, and the bond? Unbreakable.

Because in the end, owning an Italian motorcycle long-term isn’t about having a bike. It’s about living with a character — loud, flawed, beautiful, and unforgettable

Washed up on a beach in Canada, but came from Japan. Not entirely sure how that works but that's the story

I recall the very first set of brand new Marvic rims in white I bought for SuperSport. I thought they were pretty special. $3200 dollars back then, about as much as a used GSXR750.

Double A doing what he did best.

Must be on her way to Egypt

RIP Michael Madsen, this is a very very cool Harley, as was he.

Never recalled the headlight poking out that far from this little Guzzi fairing

Now I do like this in this colour

Isn't AI a wonderful thing, bringing reality to imagination

All that carved metal.

All that beautiful metal 

The Hippie .

How low can you go.

They do look great I'd have to admit

Here's one I prepared earlier

Chris Haldane enjoying a wee ride on my Ducati

Robert enjoying a wee ride on my Ducati at Paeroa Street races

That moment caught on film. It gets mentioned an awful lot.

Always had a soft spot for these. I know a guy in Wellington who has had his since new. Long term ownership of a Guzzi is not to be sneezed at. Mr Imlach if your reading this take a bow sir.

They think it was photoshopped, but its really an image caught at the right moment.

Simply beautiful

Even more simply beautiful

I just want to take a moment to thank each and every one of you who took the time to visit, view, comment on, or share my motorcycle blog. Whether you dropped by once or have been following along from the beginning, your presence has meant more than I can put into words.

This blog has always been about more than just bikes — it’s been about passion, friendship, freedom, and the stories we collect along the way. From tales of long rides and late nights in the shed to reflections on the machines we love and the people we meet through them, this space has been built with heart. And it’s your support, enthusiasm, and shared love for motorcycles that has kept it alive and thriving.

I’ve read every message, appreciated every word of encouragement, and truly enjoyed the connections made here. Knowing that others out there feel the same way about this crazy, wonderful obsession has been both comforting and inspiring.

So thank you — for listening, for riding along, and for being a part of something that started as a simple outlet and became something much more meaningful. Ride safe, keep the rubber side down, and may your engines always start on the first push ( Italian bikes excluded haha).

Until next time,
Grant