900ss Revisited
900SS REVISITED
PETER EGAN
In the Seventies, it was the charismatic standard by which other sportbikes were judged. To some, it still is.
WE THREW A BIG PARTY LAST WEEK TO (ELEBRATE THE completion of our new workshop/garage. and invited a bunch of the usual suspects over for an evening of salsa consumption, Guiness drinking and toolbox appreciation. Naturally. I got out the chrome polish and wax and cleaned up my small collection of five unevenly restored elderly bikes, lining them up museum-like at one end of the garage.
During the evening, an old friend of mine looked glassy-eyed at the row of motorcycles and said. “If this place caught on fire—God forbid—and you had time to rescue just one of these bikes, which one w ould it be?” That's a cruel question, almost like choosing the life of one child over another, but it didn't take me long to arrive at the answer.
“The Ducati,” I said.
I suppose that in the life of every motorcyclist there is one design that speaks loudest to his or her particular sense of esthetics and mechanical righteousness, one motorcycle that is wheeled out of the garage early on a Sunday morning with more purpose and anticipation than any of the others, and for me that bike is my old 900SS.
For someone who thinks of himself primarily as a British bike fan, this is a strange thing to admit. I've certainly spent much more of my time owning, repairing, riding and drooling over Nortons. Triumphs, etc., but it's still the Ducati I would push out ofthat flamina aaraae. Why?
Partly, I have to admit, because it would be the hardest to replace. Triumphs and Nortons having been made in
far larger numbers. But relative rarity is only a part of the equation. There are a lot of other things to like about Ducati’s desmo V-Twins. Among them is history.
When the 750SS was introduced in 1973, the Bolognabased factory immediately set the racing world on its ear by winning the Imola 200. where Englishman Paul Smart beat a collection of the world’s finest riders and teams.
Soon, lovely Imola-replica 750SSs, painted two-tone silver and a duck-egg green, began filtering into the U.S. in very small numbers, and a couple of them fortunately fell into the hands of Cook Neilson and Phil Schilling, our friends over at Cvcle magazine. With Neilson’s riding and Schilling's tuning, these two essentially put the Ducati name on the U.S. map, winning the Daytona 750 Production race in 1975. and then the Daytona Superbike race in 1977, with the engine bored out to 883cc.
It also didn't hurt the Ducati legend when Mike Hailwood came out of retirement in 1978 and rode a factory-prepared racing version of the 900SS at the Isle of Man. Not only did Hailwood un-retire, he also won the Formula 1 race in convincing fashion, lapping the Island at a 100.5 1 -mph average and setting the stage for a new series of Hailwood Replica Ducatis.
On this side of the Atlantic. Reno Leoni built racewinning Ducatis for Jimmy Adamo, while Syd Tunstali did the same for himself and his son, Malcolme. Rich Schlachter and Freddie Spencer also campaigned the big desmo Twins for a time. When the last air-cooled, beveldrive versions were made in 1 983, the SS series had covered itself in racing glory for a full decade, and then some. Battle of the Twins events were (and are) rich with the music of Ducati Vees.
Racing history is all very well, but it’s still hard to love an ugly bike, even if it’s successful. Fortunately, the Super Sport Ducatis have never been ugly. I happen to think they're beautiful, and a large part of the Ducati’s appeal to me is simply esthetic.
Some Ducati purists wall tell you that the only SS to have is the original 750, because of its sweet balance and the svelte, rounded lines of its hand-assembled engine cases. I'm inclined to agree that the round-case engines are prettier, but there were only 88 750 Super Sports brought into the U.S., so they tend to be hard to find and prohibitively expensive. It was the lower price and wider availability that drew me to the 900SS and allowed my sensitive soul to endure the heartbreak of square-shaped engine cases. That, and my firm belief that even the lowly 900SS is a beautiful piece of machinery.
Minimal, light and simple, its nicely crafted pieces include an engine, some wheels, a place to sit and a place to hang on. a small fairing and not much else. It's a true street-legal roadracer with no excess baggage. No electric starter or unnecessary body panels to cover unsightly or unfinished engineering. Pure road weapon, as expressed in the Seventies, blissfully devoid of the styling excess that marked some ol Ducati s other early creations.
Reliability is another factor that has warmed my opinion of the marque. I've had two 900 Super Sports, a '78 and my present 1977 version, and nothing has ever gone wrong with either bike. Nothing. You can ride a 900SS I 20 mph on the open road, glide into a town, stop at a light and find that the bike still idles perfectly. No leaks, loose exhaust clamps or other signs of strain. A Ducati generally returns to your garage in the same condition as it left, no matter how hard it's ridden. Even the critical desmo valve clearances seldom go out of adjustment on my bikes. Maybe I've just been lucky. In any case, reliability engenders respect.
Okay, so we've got history, beauty and reliability on our side. But what is an original 900SS like to ride? Let’s go out to the garage.
Turn on the petcock, twist the throttle three times and kick the lever. The engine fires immediately with an immense booming racket, but there's no choke, so you have to pump the throttle to keep the 40mm DeH’Ortos spitting out enough fuel to keep the fire going. After about a minute, the engine is w'arm enough to run on its own, idling with pile-driver regularity, and there are no further carb problems from idle to top speed. No flat spots, gasps or hesitations anywhere.
Lean forward against the clip-ons. snick effortlessly into first gear and head dow n the driveway. Acceleration is strong and locomotive-like, producing a loud but mellow cacophony from the Conti “mufflers.” The exhaust note is one of barely contained violence, but there’s almost no vibration from the solidly mounted 90-degree V-Twin. Accelerating up through the gears for the first time is one of the best parts of any Ducati ride. Memory, however recent, never does it justice. Forward movement is glassy, hydraulic, forceful, and it automatically causes a strange, sort of drugged-out grin of pleasure to form on your face.
Head into the first bend and you rediscover that muchmentioned combination of stability and slow steering. In fast turns it’s delightful—the bike sticks to the chosen line in a smooth, sweeping arc and refuses to be deflected by any bump or road hazard smaller than a refrigerator. In tight turns it takes a little w'ork and body english to change direction. Ride is pretty stiff-legged" by modern standards, but the brakes are wonderful—strong and linear. The whole bike has a unified, one-piece feel, solid as a bridge.
What really makes the old 900SS a delight to ride is its tall gearing, combined with a very broad powerband. At 70 mph, the engine is in a relaxed purring state, using less than 4400 of its 8000-rpm redline, and large quantities of instant torque are waiting in the wings. As a corner opens up. you can dial in any amount of exit speed you want, which makes the bike remarkably easy and fulfilling to ride.
Limitations? Yes. The 900SS is clumsy around town. A serious shortage of steering lock makes the act of turning around in the road slow and difficult. In traffic or on tight switchbacks it can feel truckish and a little brutal. The 900SS likes open country and sweeping corners.
Fortunately, those limitations are gone in the new 900SS. I had the opportunity to ride Ducati’s new interpretation of the theme halfway across Italy recently, and I’m happy to report it does everything the old 900SS did, only better. Kinesthetically, it's the perfect modern successor to my old bike—a fast, stable Twin with a wonderful, torquey engine, but suspension compliance is vastly improved, controls lighter and steering quicker, with no loss of stability at the top end.
And, more significantly, there's no appreciable loss of red-blooded Italian character, even if it lacks the whirring. complex, noisy machinations of bevel drive to the cams, that tradition replaced by the less elegant but more efficient toothed belt. The seat, though quite comfortable, is rather oddly shaped, and I’d like to see a higher state of finish on the engine. Outside of those small qualms, I was tremendously impressed with the bike.
So much so that if fortune or the state lottery should smile upon me within the next year, there will likely be a new 900SS joining my old one in the garage.
Please don't ask what I’ll do if the place catches fire.13
