I no longer recognise the advent of summer through the growth and shine of the multicoloured display of flora that can so resplendently decorate our British countryside.

No. Now, it’s the unmistakably delicious sound of 12k/rpm combined with the rainbow effect the vibrant expression of leathers have at 100MPH.

On the sea front this weekend at Brighton I actually saw a Panigale, which I think is the first time I’ve seen one since I sold mine pretty much dead on a year ago. It gave me a chill but in the same way one would get from having seen a woman who had utterly destroyed his heart. All the memories flooded back and despite the pain and anguish, I longed to be back on the saddle.

I don’t live that far from a dual carriageway and on occasion, I hear a motorbike tearing a hole in the fabric of space time continuum. That spine tingling feeling where a petrol head starts to grin at the sound of that engine, waiting it seems for infinity for that gear shift to take place. And there it goes all over again, until the sound recedes into the future.

So yes. I want a bike again. Last year, I was not in a good frame of mind. I was taking out all my stress and anxiety on the roads and despite me exercising the caution and knowledge of many years of high speed driving and training, it did not give me invulnerability. So I sold it.

But now I want one again. I would love to know if it’s at all possible to own a bike as awesome as the Panigale and just park it in the living room, safe in the moderation that you’ll never ride it. Just gaze at it forever like a teenager, his soul crushed by his very first love. Fucking bitch.