Ethanol Free Recreational Gas

May 21, 2013 View Comments by

Recreational GasLast weekend was fairly typical; play one day and work the other. The work being the kind that doesn’t pay anything, of course. For some reason, I wasn’t satisfied purchasing a house with a normal yard. I wanted, and got, an “estate” (at least in terms of the yard), though I lack the funds necessary to hire help in maintaining it. Enough of that…I’ll save it for a gardening publication.

After eleven hours aboard the bike on Saturday, Sharon and I felt the need to take a chunk out of the long list of spring chores on Sunday. OK, Sharon felt the need to take a chunk out of the chores, and I felt the need to help her rather than hop on the bike again, which is what I really wanted to do.

After devoting several hours to our seasonal regimen of chores, the lure of the road became too strong to resist. But what could I do without feeling overly guilty or taking too much time, as there was still work to be done? Go get gas for the Ducati of course…the obvious solution to my conundrum.

My ‘07 Ducati S2R1000 Monster, much to my chagrin, has an extreme distain for ethanol-laced swill, and as such I’m forced to travel around seventy miles round trip to the closest gas station offering pure gasoline. Many boat motors don’t like ethanol either, and one potential source of fuel is the marinas found at most of the larger lakes. The problem is, there are none of them close to my house. Luckily, there’s a small two-pump station located about thirty-five miles from me that sells “recreational” ethanol-free fuel in the summer months.

The station is a few miles north of one of my favorite nearby destinations—Granville, OH. There are several ways to get there, and most of them offer outstanding roads and scenery. Riding the Ducati on a twisty piece of asphalt is truly an experience to be savored. The power, handling, and sound of the bike combine to make an ordinary ride something special, and the attention I get from being on an “exotic” bike doesn’t hurt either. In rural Ohio, I might as well be in a Ferrari when I’m riding the Ducati.

As I glanced up at the “recreational gas” sign after forty minutes of attempting to move the “chicken strips” on the tires a bit closer to the rim, I thought to myself, “they named that pump right!” And then some. I’ll never look at getting gas in quite the same way again.

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