DUCATI DESMOSEDICI

ometimes when the alarm clock hits you at stupid o’clock in the morning, it’s all too tempting to pick it up and throw it out the window in a bid for some extra beauty sleep, something which Bruce, Carl and I are in need of every precious second’s worth. However today was a day where the alarm clock didn’t even get chance to go off,as I sprang out of bed in anticipation of what lay ahead. Today was a different, very special day, a day only a few have been fortuitous enough to experience in their lifetime. No, this wasn’t an opportunity to disappoint the mum/daughter combo you’ve been thinking about for ages. This was the opportunity to ride another sort of high-maintenance beast; equally full of enticing voluptuous curves, but a whole lot more likely to leave you quivering at the knees wishing you were able to perform to a higher standard than you thought you could. Today I was going to ride the Ducati Desmosedici RR. I’ll be honest, on my way to collect this renowned weapon of MotoGP heritage it occurred to me that I actually didn’t know a lot about it, other than knowing it was pretty rare and jolly expensive. On that note of ‘jolly’ I was swiftly reminded by HRH (Bruce) that although we were fully insured to transport and ride the Desmo, should anything happen to it or indeed the equally beautiful MV Agusta Claudio, he would be jolly unhappy, or aircraft carrier. But in reality the Desmo was totally compliant and actually quite happy pottering through slow-speed traffic, and in terms of filtering and safety, everyone knew there was a bike approaching due to the crackling roar exuding from my arse end. But let’s be honest; no one buys a Desmo to commute, so although its road manners are surprisingly pleasant, I was keen to find out what this bike had to offer when you really open the taps. After the volcanic noise, the throttle was my first indication that this bike could be something special. On tickover the Desmo is actually quite quiet and unassuming, yet the second you twist the grip even slightly the motor screams MotoGP at you and shoots up the rev range dramatically, emitting just the tiniest bit of smoke from those under-seat Termignoni exhausts. On a side point while on the subject of the exhausts, never have I been so concerned about doing miles on a bike. Ducatis are known for getting a bit ‘warm’ to say the least, and this bad boy had an exhaust system right under my precious love eggs, which I didn’t want scrambling on a high heat pan. It turned out that they weren’t as bad as I expected, and as long as you didn’t stay stationary or in slow traffic for too long, they were more than tolerable for my cowering nutsack. This sensitive and reactive throttle unsurprisingly correlated directly on to the roads. You’d be forgiven for thinking that, given this is essentially a race bike with lights and a number plate, the motor would be an absolute wet lettuce at the bottom end but boast astonishing peak power, where it would typically sit when competing with top riders across fast-flowing European circuits. However, as seems to be a theme with this bike in terms of expectation versus reality, the total opposite was true yet again. The power on the Desmo was plentiful and more than eager, with huge bottom end and midrange grunt combined with a screamer of a top end when you found enough road space to use it, along with a soundtrack literally incomparable to anything else; this was an incredibly good road bike and although it surprised me to say, one I could happily ride on a daily basis. The Desmo devoured tight twisty roads, capable of pulling you out of one corner and planting you into the next faster than your brain can keep up with, hoisting the front wheel in a calm but plentiful manner. I liked the fact that it had zero tech to offer, no quickshifter, no ‘blipper and no pesky traction control or ABS. Everything was old school and manual and frankly, all the better for it. That sense of: brain (a small part admittedly), hand, throttle, cable, engine connection was back and made me feel like a proper rider again, rather than a Game Boy addict who spends his time deliberating what traction control setting to ride in depending on the weather conditions. Nothing about this bike was snatchy in delivery; smooth, usable power was my resounding memory from abusing this piece of exotic history. But even in terms of the chassis, the front end was subtle and forgiving and gave you great feedback from the old school 16.5in spec Marchesini wheels, giving you all the confidence to turn faster and harder into every corner. This is probably helped by the beautiful Öhlins gas pressurised forks, which are a costly bit of kit on their own to say the least. If I had one criticism of the Desmo, it would be the suspension set-up. It’s a road-going track bike, so it was always going to be stiff, however the rear shock is incredibly hard and unforgiving. In a total contrast to the front end, it requires fast-flowing corners to make it work even remotely like it was designed to do. In the slow tight twisty corners, it seemed like there was never enough compression of the spring to give me the feedback of the tyre digging into the floor to give me the grip I wanted, and consequently the damping wasn’t giving me the control I desired either. That all changed for the better when you added speed, where the bike came into its own, and in fast-flowing corners where you have the extra force going through its cheeky gold suspenders, the bike felt at home and incredibly stable. This is where its GP geometry and set-up make total sense. It wasn’t really designed to be a road bike; the fact it’s actually a great road bike is a happy coincidence at very best. This bike is designed for high-speed cornering on European circuits where the temperature is constantly above 25 degrees – not for the UK roads where if by some miracle it gets to 25 degrees, the UK’s population goes topless and carries the contents of the local carpet shops under their arms. To be honest if it were my bike, a simple reduction of some preload and a couple of clicks here and there on the damping to open the valves and soften it off would be all it takes to get the Desmo to be a bit more pliable and confidence inspiring on the rear end. The good news is that if you’re not feeling up to haring into the next corner at warp speed, the brakes on the Italian stallion are nothing short of epic. The Desmo is clad with an awesome set of Brembos which are the same spec as the GP6 wet set-up of the time. Clearly there would be zero point in putting their carbon dry set-up on for the road bike – that would actually be a poor choice as you wouldn’t get the heat into the brakes on the road like you would the track. Well, unless you live in a rural area where tractors pull out every half a mile of your ride? Another lovely aspect of the braking system is the complete lack of that hideous rider aid we always moan about... ABS. It’s always refreshing to hop on to an ‘old school’ bike without the modern trickery, and especially when it comes to ABS. The thing with ABS is, it’s designed to stop you locking up, but unless you’re banked over in a corner, locking up really isn’t the end of the world. A bit of patter, a bit of a skid and before you know it you’ve let the brake off and you’re still riding wondering what all the fuss was about. But in all fairness, you’d have to brake damned hard on the Desmo to be making that happen – its geometry and set-up invites you to use its tools to the max without cause for concern. There are a lot of competent, high fun-factor and capable bikes on the market; all of which would be lovely to have in your garage and all of which put a big smile on my big daft shiny face, but nothing I’ve ever ridden has even come close to how the Desmo made me feel. I lapped up every second that I had available to ride it because whether it was the way the power came, the noise that it made, the way it stopped, the way it turned or even just how the bike felt underneath me, I didn’t want to get off it and hand it back to its owner. Not to mention its stunning looks which have aged better than Jennifer Aniston... a statement in itself. This bike has gone from being something I was only scarcely aware of, to being the top of the podium in my dream garage. Time to start doing the lottery...