Jerry Can't

Last January, I bought a Vespa. It had an issue with it's fuel injection system since the day I picked it up. Several letters and visits to the shop later (including one stint where they kept it for 2.5 months while they 'investigated'), I ended up giving it back to them and exchanging it for a 'more reliable' brand new Honda. I picked the Honda up just before Christmas. It has 130km on it. I got on it at lunch and it wouldn't start. I turned the key and it made a nasty noise. I repeated this exercise. I swore profusely and gave it a nasty look. I called Dave, who I was supposed to be meeting at home for lunch, and told him I was stuck. He said, "Bugger". (Gotta love those English-isms.) I let it rest an hour, lest I had flooded it or something. Same result but I noted the fuel gauge was in the 'orange' zone. With my tail between my legs, I informed Dave that perhaps I was out of gas and how could I get some gas into my bike. He suggested a watering can. I didn't think that sounded like the safest means to transport the gas. Being the awesome husband he is, he made a trip to the hardware store and then the 'petrol station' and brought me this Jerry Can full of gas. My bike gobbled it up. I pushed the start button. Same result. Bugger indeed. Seriously?! Another lemon bike?!