Dizzy roars the Ducati through the Sacramento streets, racing from Sally's straight to the office of Wallis Engineering, ensuring he avoided as much five-0 as he possibly could, and every single second spent with the wind in his face kept him smiling.
Not outside. Obviously that would be silly. He'd swallow a fly otherwise.
And it wasn't only because of the speed either. No. It was his pillion accompanying him on the short journey. Finally reaching their destination, Dizzy pulls over and kills the engine.
"All good?" he asks Monica, now smiling proper.