My grandfather rode a BMW motorcycle. I was the passenger.
I don't remember the speed clearly — I remember the feeling. The wind, the lean, the sense that nothing between us and the road was unnecessary. No doors. No separation. Just motion and the decision to trust the machine and the person controlling it.
That was my first experience of total sensory presence. I didn't have a word for it then.
The Ducati SF V2 is what happened when I chased it for 30 years.
There's a moment after you pull the throttle on a Ducati SF V2 where your brain empties completely. Not from fear. From demand.
The bike doesn't negotiate. It doesn't adjust to your mood or your distraction level. You either show up present or the machine makes the consequence immediate. That's not a safety warning — it's the actual product. You are buying the right to engage fully or pay the price.
Most things in modern life let you half-ass them. This doesn't.
Decades after that first lean on a BMW with Gramps — the full circle wasn't the machine. It was the feeling. The SF V2 just happened to be the most honest way to find it again.
A Streetfighter is a sport bike stripped of its justifications. No fairing. No aerodynamic shell. No visual diplomacy. Just the machine, exposed, asking nothing of the wind except passage.
This is the opposite of modern luxury car design, which is engineered specifically to isolate you from feedback. Noise cancellation, adaptive suspension, sound-deadened cabins — all of it designed so you feel nothing. The SF V2 is the counter-argument in steel and carbon.