The best thing and the worst thing about a Ducati are both concerned with the senses, in fact the same sense – hearing. On a suitably twisty road, as you give the V twin its head, it sounds like no other motorbike; the snarl of the exhausts and the induction roar combine to produce an almost physical manifestation of power that shimmers around the bike like the roar of some primeval beast. As you slow the bike for a bend, the whirr of the dry clutch and the fizz from the brake discs are overwhelmed by the booming overrun. There are few other bikes as distinctive to the distant ear, and none that produce such an aura of power and aggression. Then just as the road stretches out ahead, the sounds change; the mechanical whirrings and rhythmic beat become a discordant jangling; you pull in the clutch, the revs die, the exhaust note fades away and all there is the rush of the wind. As the speed drops away and you coast to the roadside, there is only the sound of profanity….

There is really no other bike like a Duke – the blood red beauty of it stirs the heart even when on the side stand, but the payback is the fragile nature of that beauty which can take the owner from an ultimate high to black depression in a bare few yards. I know this only too well after two years with a 900SS that I bought new in 1996. I had found myself with a car allowance having won a promotion and quickly made enquiries on what rules were applied to the sort of vehicle I could acquire with this bounty. "Anything you like, so long as it has four wheels and a roof" was the knowing answer. At the time I had a CBR600F and a car so was not short of transport. This started me thinking about the more exotic possibilities that could be entertained if I took a cash allowance rather than a vehicle bought by the company. This would also enable me to avoid a large dose of extra tax misery and at the end of the day, the vehicle would belong to me. My brother cunningly suggested that getting a Ducati might be a cool idea. He’d been a fan for years and quite fancied having a Ducati in his garage, that being where I store my bikes. The following weekend the nearest dealer was visited and a test ride on a 900SS decided me there and then.

Having taken delivery, the running in period was undertaken very carefully with the Ducati reputation in mind. I was quickly hooked on this bike which was so different to its stable mate, my CBR600. Although the Duke makes something like 20% less power than the CBR, the raw delivery makes the rider aware of every single horse – these horses were unbroken and kicking. The rush and roar of the bike made every trip a wild ride. The handling of the bike was also a revelation although it was slow and stiff compared to the Honda, which was so devastatingly responsive that it seemed to be almost telepathic. The Duke by comparison needed a shove to make it turn but once on its ear there was nothing to touch it; it would corner with such self assurance. Oddly though, despite the manners of the bike and the look of the Ohlins-style yellow rear shock and UD forks, the suspension was really quite crude. Despite the ability for multi-way adjustments, it seemed that whatever I did, hitting potholes or bumps would guarantee a loud ‘clang’ from the front rapidly followed by a kick up the rear from the non-rising rate shock. This may well have contributed to why the bike rewarded a smooth touch; mid corner braking or other antics would upset the balance, the bike being at its best on sweeping A roads. A fast ride up to Cadwell Park late that summer along a favourite road, the A159 from Grantham to Louth stands out in my memory, the Duke loping along with the lazy long-legged gait of a Cheetah. On the down side, the bike was a complete mare in the city. I had kept the CBR and was commuting into Central London on it, until in the August some slime stole her. For a month or so, the Ducati stepped into the breach but the narrow steering lock, hefty clutch action and a juddery power delivery until the clutch was fully home made town work a chore.

I stored the Duke up over the winter but itched for the Spring as I was by now ‘Ducatisti’ – a fully paid up convert to the Church of Ducati. At the end of March, she emerged from her winter hibernation and after a clean down and check over, I renewed my acquaintance with a marque with which I was beginning to think I might have a life long love affair. Things were less rosy within 40 miles as the bike sheared the cylinder studs on the front pot. This had been one of the common faults that plagued earlier bikes, but which had allegedly been sorted out by 1996. According to the workshop manager at my dealer the initial fault of warping heads had been "solved" by putting a shear point into the cylinder studs, thus the studs snap to save the head. All well and good, although the side effect is that when the studs let go, the underside of the engine and the rear wheel get a coating of second hand engine oil. Not so good, especially if the fatal moment occurs in the outer lane of the M25. However, the bike was quickly repaired and I swiftly regained confidence in the Duke. She rewarded me with some memorable moments that summer; a late evening ride back from the West Country across Salisbury Plain, riding the switchback roads down steep valley sides in the Belgian Ardennes, riding from the German border to Calais in torrential rain…. Towards the end of the season though, I had a nagging feeling there was something not quite right. The bike seemed to be very susceptible to cross winds and on the brakes there was sometimes a skittery uncertain feeling but the bike was still on the o.e. Michelin A/M49 tyres which are not known for their superior handling qualities. So, mentally noting to have new tyres fitted in the New Year, I put the Duke into winter hibernation.

continues...


Back to Mr Wegg's index...