’ve scored myself a ride on the Elle Macpherson of motorcycles. Lithe, luscious and absolutely mesmerizing with legs that stretch all the way to the far side of 150 mph; she is, of course, the MV Agusta Superveloce. I’m winding her up and down a deserted highway in an alligator-filled swamp, reminiscent of a scene in a Bond movie. Pterodactyl-sized flesh-eating vultures exploding from shady mangroves into my path as I buzz past playing Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee” on her three-cylinder motor. But they will need to

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