{"id":9589,"date":"2025-03-06T13:24:16","date_gmt":"2025-03-06T13:24:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/?p=9589"},"modified":"2025-04-12T13:54:52","modified_gmt":"2025-04-12T13:54:52","slug":"come-sono-diventato-guzzista-cristiano-petrosino","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/?p=9589","title":{"rendered":"Come sono diventato Guzzista: Cristiano Petrosino"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Guzzista non per caso<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Il destino era gi\u00e0 scritto.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Non poteva essere altrimenti.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Sono diventato motociclista nel settembre del 1978. La mia prima volta in moto \u00e8 un ricordo indelebile, inciso nella memoria come una profezia: avevo 5 anni e 9 mesi, e mio padre mi portava a scuola. Seduto davanti a lui, stretto tra le sue braccia e il serbatoio giallo della sua Gilera 150<\/strong><\/span>, ero gi\u00e0 immerso in un mondo fatto di rombi e vento in faccia. Era la sua seconda moto dopo la Lambretta della giovent\u00f9, ma per me era il primo segno del destino. (Oggi ci ritirerebbero la patente all\u2019istante, ma allora era vita, era libert\u00e0)<\/em><\/span>.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Da quel momento, i motorini non mi hanno mai interessato. Mentre tutti sognavano il Fifty<\/strong><\/span>, io sognavo la Moto Guzzi<\/strong><\/span>. E non una qualunque. Mio padre, con due figli e tante responsabilit\u00e0, non aveva pi\u00f9 la moto, ma nel profondo la desiderava ancora. Il suo sogno proibito? Una V35<\/strong><\/span>. Ma il vero Graal era la California<\/strong><\/span>, non solo una moto, ma una visione mitologica.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Io crescevo, e il sogno cresceva con me. Passavo stagioni intere a “leccare le vetrine” della concessionaria Stagi di Sampierdarena<\/strong><\/span>, a Genova, sognando un V50<\/strong><\/span> o un Nevada<\/strong><\/span>, ma senza il becco d\u2019un quattrino. Cos\u00ec, dopo un inevitabile 125 PX, nel 1992 acquisto di nascosto la mia prima moto da Biemme Moto<\/strong><\/span> : una Suzuki 400F<\/strong><\/span> del 1981, con un miliardo di chilometri sulle spalle. Poi un vecchio Transalp (JANUA<\/strong><\/span>), e finalmente, con il primo lavoro vero, nel 1998, una Suzuki Inazuma 750<\/strong><\/span> nuova di zecca.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Ma non era bicilindrica. E non era Guzzi. Avevo una moto, s\u00ec, ma non LA moto.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Poi arriva Mario Ponskin<\/strong><\/span>,un carissimo amico, con il suo Moto Guzzi 1000 SP <\/strong><\/span>bianco e rosso. Folgorazione. Rivelazione<\/strong><\/span>.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Quella moto parlava un\u2019altra lingua, vibrava in un altro modo, respirava diversamente. Da l\u00ec in poi, il destino prende il sopravvento. Passo ai bicilindrici con una Suzuki TL 1000S<\/strong><\/span>e non li abbandono pi\u00f9 (con un\u2019unica eccezione: una Kawasaki H2SXSE<\/strong><\/span>, ma chi pu\u00f2 resistere a quella macchina del tempo?). Poi, finalmente, la Guzzi V10 Centauro Sport<\/strong><\/span>, rossa. Un\u2019astronave, un\u2019opera d\u2019arte meccanica, un carattere da domare. Ma non ero pronto. Le Guzzi non si possiedono, si comprendono<\/strong><\/span>. E io non ero ancora abbastanza maturo per interpretarla. Dopo una parentesi con una Ducati ST3<\/strong><\/span> (la mia seconda moto preferita), arriva il momento della verit\u00e0: il sogno di mio padre diventa il mio. Moto Guzzi California Touring 1400<\/strong><\/span>. Comprata in Marocco, vissuta sulle strade africane, riportata a casa in un viaggio epico: Casablanca-Parigi in moto, attraverso deserti e montagne. Ma Parigi non \u00e8 il suo habitat. \u00c8 troppo ingombrante per la citt\u00e0, ed \u00e8 tempo di cambiare. Provo di tutto: KTM Super Duke 1290, Kawasaki SX SE<\/strong><\/span>, Multistrada<\/strong><\/span>. Potenza, elettronica, quickshifter… Ma non c\u2019\u00e8 niente da fare. Non \u00e8 questione di numeri o prestazioni.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Manca l\u2019anima<\/strong><\/span>.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Vendo tutto e torno all\u2019origine: una Guzzi V11 Ballabio<\/strong><\/span>, perfetta, con scarichi aperti che cantano una sinfonia d\u2019acciaio. Un motore che pulsa, che scalpita, che regala sensazioni vere. Poi un Stelvio NTX<\/strong><\/span>, perch\u00e9 mia moglie vuole stare comoda. Moto straordinaria, ma forse un po\u2019 troppo alta per me. E nel frattempo, per quasi dieci anni, un desiderio rimane l\u00ec, a farsi strada dentro di me. Il Griso SE nero<\/strong><\/span>.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Lo trovo. Lo guardo. Ci salgo sopra. E so<\/strong><\/span>.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Questa \u00e8 LA<\/strong><\/span> moto. Quella che rester\u00e0 per sempre. Quella che qualcuno erediter\u00e0 quando il tempo avr\u00e0 finito il suo giro. Quella su cui mi ritrovo, stretto al serbatioio , 47 anni dopo<\/strong><\/span>.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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GUZZISTA NON PER CASO<\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Guzzista, Not by Chance<\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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It was already written. Fate had decided.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I became a motorcyclist in September 1978. My first time on a bike is a vivid memory, etched into my mind like a prophecy. I was 5 years and 9 months old when my father took me to school on his Gilera 150<\/strong><\/span>. I sat in front of him, nestled between his arms and the bike\u2019s yellow fuel tank. That was his second motorcycle after the Lambretta<\/strong><\/span> of his youth, but for me, it was the first sign of destiny. (Nowadays, that would mean instant license suspension and vehicle impoundment, but back then, it was just life. Freedom.)<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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From that moment on, I had no interest in mopeds. While everyone else dreamed of the Fifty<\/strong><\/span>, I was already dreaming of a Moto Guzzi<\/strong><\/span>. Not just any Guzzi\u2014the<\/strong><\/span> Guzzi. My father, now with two kids and a family to support, no longer owned a bike, but deep down, he still wanted one. His dream? A V35<\/strong><\/span>. But the true Holy Grail was the California<\/strong><\/span>\u2014not just a motorcycle, but a myth, a legend.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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As I grew up, the dream grew with me. I spent endless seasons “licking the shop windows”<\/strong><\/span> at the Stagi dealership in Sampierdarena, Genoa<\/strong><\/span>, longing for a V50<\/strong><\/span> or a Nevada<\/strong><\/span>, but I never had the money to make it happen. So, after an inevitable Vespa 125 PX<\/strong><\/span>, I finally bought my first real motorcycle in 1992\u2014from Biemme Moto<\/strong><\/span>, secretly, without my mother knowing: a Suzuki 400F from 1981<\/strong><\/span>, with a billion kilometers on it. Then came an old Transalp<\/strong><\/span> (JANUA)<\/strong><\/span>, and finally, with my first real job in 1998, a brand-new Suzuki Inazuma 750<\/strong><\/span>.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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But it wasn\u2019t a twin-cylinder. And it wasn\u2019t a Guzzi. I had a motorcycle, yes. But I didn\u2019t have THE<\/strong><\/span> motorcycle.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Then came Mario Ponskin<\/strong><\/span>, a dear friend, with his white and red Moto Guzzi 1000 SP<\/strong><\/span>. That was it. A revelation. A lightning bolt<\/strong><\/span>straight to the soul.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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From that moment on, destiny took over. I switched to twin-cylinders with a Suzuki TL 1000S<\/strong><\/span>, and I never looked back. (Well, except for a brief affair with a Kawasaki H2SXSE<\/strong>, but who could resist that time machine ?)<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Then, finally, the Guzzi V10 Centauro Sport, in red<\/strong><\/span>. A spaceship. A masterpiece. A mechanical enigma with a soul. But I wasn\u2019t ready. You don\u2019t just ride a Guzzi\u2014you understand it, you interpret it.<\/strong><\/span>And I wasn\u2019t mature enough yet.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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After a brief detour with a Ducati ST3<\/strong><\/span> (my second-favorite bike), I finally fulfilled my father\u2019s dream\u2014which had become mine<\/strong><\/span>: The Moto Guzzi California Touring 1400<\/strong><\/span>.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I rode it for three years in Morocco, where I was living at the time. Then, I took an epic ride from Casablanca to Paris<\/strong><\/span> on it. But once in the French capital, I realized\u2014this bike was too big for city life. It was time for another change.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I tried everything: KTM Super Duke 1290<\/strong><\/span>, Kawasaki SX SE<\/strong><\/span>, Ducati Multistrada<\/strong><\/span>. Power, electronics, quickshifter\u2026 but something was missing.<\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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The soul.<\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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So, I sold everything and went back to the source: a Guzzi V11 Ballabio<\/strong><\/span>, pristine, as if it had just rolled out of the factory. Open exhausts, a symphony of raw sound. A heart that beats with passion. Then, a Stelvio NTX<\/strong><\/span>, because my wife wanted comfort. A fantastic machine, though maybe a bit too tall for me.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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And all this time, for nearly ten years, one desire kept simmering inside me. The Griso SE, in black.<\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I found one. I looked at it. I sat on it. And I knew.<\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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This was THE<\/strong><\/span> bike. The one that will stay with me forever. The one someone will inherit when my time is up. The one that brings me full circle, tight to the fuel tank, 47 years later<\/strong><\/span>.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Guzzista, not by chance.<\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Guzzista non per caso Il destino era gi\u00e0 scritto. Non poteva essere altrimenti. Sono diventato motociclista nel settembre del 1978. La mia prima volta in moto \u00e8 un ricordo indelebile, inciso nella memoria come una profezia: avevo 5 anni e 9 mesi, e mio padre mi portava a scuola. Seduto davanti a lui, stretto tra […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":9592,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[85],"tags":[104],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9589"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9589"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9589\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9591,"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9589\/revisions\/9591"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/9592"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9589"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9589"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.animaguzzista.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9589"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}