A thick early morning marine layer is hanging just a few feet above the coast as I whip through another mile of twisting euphoria. Each consecutive series of corners comes flying at me in a rapid succession that almost seems implausible and yet it’s not. Because it’s happening right before my eyes and even though I can’t quite believe it’s real, I know it is. Driving hard out of the turn I peer ahead and as soon as I’m able to focus on the next corner, it becomes the last corner. Gone. Just like that. Consumed in a remarkably easy singular motion that only comes forth when you realize that you’re not just out riding, you’re hunting a form of ecstasy.

With my heart pounding and a trace of sweat covering my brow, I swoop from corner to corner in an effortless advance. It’s one part body steering, a touch of counter steering and a dash of sliding off the saddle. The perfect recipe for an easygoing graceful yet utterly sporty early morning adventure. The kind of exploration that allows you to do as much or as little work as you want and still enjoy the ride to exactly the same degree.

No, not my words.  This was written after a guy took a ride on a Ducati ST3