Everything can wait but Ducati Museum
I was happily on 110km/h cruise control across the middle of Italy when Pangzi decided to spoil my plans.
“Daddy, I can’t wait anymore!”
“Yeah me too,” I said. “We’ll reach Florence in no time, as promised.”
“I mean, I need to pee…”
“Oh please don’t do this to me now. We’re on the highway!”
Ultimately I knew there was no choice but to make a small detour. The nearest highway exit sign said “Bologna” – a city I’d heard little about except for its football team.
Fine. All I’m looking for is a toilet. Bologna will do. Then we’re out of here. It shouldn’t take long.
Or so I thought.
Somewhere after the highway toll station, a sign bearing “Ducati Museum” appeared.
“Daddy, look! Ducati Museum! I want!”
I had a bad feeling about this.
“We’ve got a tight schedule to follow, remember?” I tried to reason. “Let’s stick to it and go see David before sunset.”
“But daddy, we can just use the toilet at the Ducati Museum…”
It took me a while to realise I was tricked.
The museum was housed in the same compound as the Ducati factory that produced tens of thousands of the luxury motorcycle for worldwide buyers.
Open to public was as expected only the Ducati Museum.
First up was a modest gift shop peddling Ducati merchandise. “Is there a toilet here?” I asked the shop attendant.
“Yes, it’s within the Ducati Museum itself. You need tickets to enter,” she offered helpfully.
So I paid a tidy sum in Euros for toilet access. I’d never seen Pangzi this excited about peeing.
“Daddy, look! So many motorcycles!” he said as we stepped in.
“Yes, yes, it’s a Ducati Museum, of course you get motorcycles.”
Actually the Ducati Museum wasn’t as big as I thought it’d be. It did a reasonable job detailing the history of the brand through its two-wheeled and other exhibits, which covered all but one floor.
“Daddy, look! A monster!”
“Oh well since we’re here, you can roam around a bit but don’t take forever.”
The message was all lost on Pangzi though.
“Daddy, look! A vintage!”
He went on to examine every vehicle on display. By the time we were ready to leave, it was getting dark.
As we finally made it back to the highway, it was obvious we wouldn’t be visiting any David that day.
“Wait a minute,” I suddenly recalled, to my horror.
“DID YOU PEE?”
We were here:
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