Harris buys a Ducati: PH Blog

Having sold the Ferrari there was room for another noisy Italian in Chris's life

"You've effectively just passed your driving test and just bought an E63 as your first car," said a pal who knows rather a lot about motorcycles. And, I have to concede, to the casual observer my choice of motorcycle for my initial foray onto the public highway does appear to be a touch foolhardy. It's a Ducati Monster 1200, and it has enough performance to contort time.

"How much is that Ducati in the window..."

But there was much thought that went into the purchase process. I was a little obsessed with seat-heights - being a very small chap with very little legs, I hate the feeling that I can't get both feet onto the ground should I need to. A small point of confidence I know, but one that reflects the fact that most early wobbles happen as you learn low-speed balance. So I wanted a very low seat.

I also wanted a twin because I learnt on a Suzuki Gladius and enjoyed the lazy, torquey delivery and rumble-rumble soundtrack. But this was set against the fact that experientially I wanted something quite different from motorcycling than I did car ownership and driving. I wanted something to own and stare at - I wanted the man/machine relationship to be deliberately superficial one and didn't feel any sense of shame at not being able to access the majority of the performance. Looks mattered. Cars and bikes only go as fast as you ask them to.

So I went to look at some Ducatis. I'll admit to sitting on a Panigale, but all it did was confirm that I'd rather be more upright and then I hopped onto some Monsters. There were old ones, new ones, red ones and black ones - and it would appear that the engine sizes have covered pretty much every conceivable combination of three-figure number. Plus the odd four-digit number. I then saw a brand new Monster 1200 and thought it looked the patella of the bumble-bee.

Obviously Chris was sensible and started small...

Jason the smiley salesman then whipped out his multi-tool and dropped the adjustable seat to its lowest position, whereupon I could rest both of my heels on the ground and the wide bars didn't feel dissimilar to those of my mountain bike. It just felt absolutely spot-on. I didn't have my pass certificate with me, and my youngest son could easily destroy Riders' Bristol showroom in the 15 minutes I'd have to leave him for a test ride. So I just thought balls to it and said I'd like to buy one.

It occurred to me that I know so little about bikes and my riding skill is so undeveloped that I could research every new bike and even if I got it right for me now, it might not be in six months or next year. So I might as well just buy something that has a low seat, no fairing to keep speeds low and a very low seat. Naturally I asked if I could have the fancy S model with the gold suspension components and fancy exhaust but was told they were all sold out.

The cost was £10,695. I defy anyone who has a solid addiction to fast cars not to walk around a Ducati showroom grinning at how cheap everything looks. The sense of value is horribly skewed, but you can't help but act on it.

To be fair after the FF anything would look cheap

So what exactly had I done here? Had I made the classic mistake of simply buying something because it looked good and fitted my desires, and then constructed some laughable narrative to justify it based on a low seating position? Could well be. Or had I read all the press on it, decided that the two-stage engine map which offered a Billy-spec 100hp mode as well as the full 135hp was probably ideal?

Maybe a bit of both. You see I had this underlying sense that unless I owned a bike I craved, one that made me tingle with pride and I-can't-believe-it's actually-mine radiance, I might not actually want to ride it. Biking for me will be purely recreational, done for the love of it, so it stands to reason that the machine shouldn't generate in me feelings of quiet respect and other sterile emotions. I looked at the single-sided swing arm on the 1200 and thought, "I want some of that."

Two weeks later I rode it home. I have now covered 700 miles, which feels like many hours riding, but is of course nothing in the car world.

Low seat? Check. Throbbing V-twin? Check...

It's a harder bike to ride than the Gladius, even in 100hp 'Urban' mode. The clutch is no heavier, but the initial power delivery is sharper and of course it's way more potent. The first 350 miles were extremely sedate and I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed myself riding rather slowly on my bright red Ducati. To the hardcore I'm sure I was and remain a figure of fun, but the simple joy of mooching along at 55mph with that V-twin spluttering away underneath you defies description. For me it's an escape to another place. I'm not worrying about work or other crap, my mind is focused on riding - albeit rather slowly.

There are two running-in periods for this bike, the first is an oil change at around 450 miles, up to which point you should stay below 5,000rpm. As a novice, even in 100hp mode, this limit presents no problems - save the fact that the funky colour electronic dash doesn't actually have a rev counter in that mode, so you're kind of guessing. In reality, shifting at 4,000rpm still left me thinking it was damn fast.

Unashamedly it had to look good...

I added most of those miles on the trip to the Goodwood Festival of Speed. Cruising at the legal limit, or thereabouts, is fine. You just lean your body into the airflow and it's held there. It's noisy and after an hour my bits were a touch sore, but I'd always imagined that biking was supposed to include such hardships. I rather enjoyed stopping for tea and flapjacks and not being bothered by timings. That last point is very liberating for someone who always seems to find himself sprinting to an airport.

The trip home was magnificent - my first chance to filter through the post-Goodwood Sunday evening gridlock. There weren't too many wobbles, and I would be lying if I said great waves of smugness didn't wash over me as I slid past all those stationary cars. Karma was just around the corner mind - a cloudburst on the M4 forced me into the services and I probably lost much of the time I'd gained. But when I arrived home I was tired and sweaty and excited and smiley and I felt like I'd been on an adventure. All this from a journey that wouldn't have even registered in a car. And all in 100hp mode.

No rev counter in Urban mode - annoying

Post service I felt a little more confident, but remained very cautious. After five weeks I had to try the more powerful engine map purely to see the rev-counter. Go figure. Ducati advises around 7,000rpm for the next 500 miles, and that's plenty for me. The motor is lumpy below 2,000rpm, then just pummels its way beyond 3,500rpm. Even if I could use the last 2,500rpm, I'm not man enough yet. Nor, strangely, am I that interested. The thing is a complete weapon already.

That'll do for now. Next up some thoughts on being a novice, sharing the highway with other road users, corners and why overhanging fruit trees now terrify me.

Chris

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