Ducati 999

DUCATI 999

CYCLE WORLD TEST

NAY-SAYERS, ARMCHAIR industrial-design critics, unwavering disciples of The Great 916, Tamburini-is-God partisans—all due respect-but now is the time to shut yer yaps. Ducati’s new 999 is about to hit U.S. showrooms, and up close and in the metal it is a stunning piece, spectacular, sublime even. All of a sudden, most other sportbikes look as if they were drawn with a blunt Crayola.

You’ve seen the tech previews, the reports from the racetrack intro in Italy, and our colleagues in the Euro-bike press are already shooting-out the 999 versus its predecessor, the 998-with the new bike invariably taking it to the old, just as Of s Brian Catterson suggested in his October-issue riding impression from Autódromo Misano. But the 999’s biggest promise was to be a better streetbike, a more all-around ride, than the Desmoquattro that came before. To find out if that goal was met, we nabbed one of the first 999s to make it to America. Grab your helmet, let’s go for a ride.

Style meets Superbike, Take 2

DAVID EDWARDS

Climb aboard, settle into the seat, sort of a downsized version of the tractor saddles seen on old Indians and Harleys. About 13 inches across where you’re broadest of beam, it necks down to half that where it mates to the fuel tank. Besides being curvaceous, that wasp waist pays two dividends: 1) The bike feels incredibly narrow between your thighs; and 2) the seat’s pinched nose allows shorter pilots’ legs a straight shot at the ground during stops. Giraffes have not been forgotten, either. The seat/tailsection moves foreaft as a unit, allowing placement in one of three positions over about an inch range-loosen two bolts, move seat, tighten, nothing else disturbed, done in maybe 20 seconds. Slid back, even 6-foot-somethings fit the 999, their knees nicely hugging the sculpted sides of the gas tank.

Key the ignition and the centrally mounted instrument pod lights up like a pinball machine, the large analog MagnetiMarelli tachometer ringed by warning lights while the digital display below goes through its systems-check countdown, ending with a blinking “999 US” before defaulting to its standard settings-water temp, time, battery status, odometer and speedo. Toggles at tach level access the tripmeter, outside air temperature, fuel consumed and a lap timer (including highest speed and rpm per lap, very cool).

Light show over, have a scan around the cockpit, and what sweeps over you is the thoroughness of designer Pierre Terblanche’s handiwork. The upper fairing arcs dramatically toward you, its lines tight, crisp, in motion. Clearly, there’s some 1930s art-deco influence going on here (see “A Matter of Style,” page 48), melding with today’s angular style lines. The mirrors stay on theme, housing the front turn-signals, and are capped by neat dimpled thumbpads for lens adjustment-never mind that you have to cock your elbow high to actually see what’s behind. Note the tiny silver windshield studs all in a row, held captive by black rubberized nuts. Classy. Next, the master cylinders for brake and clutch. Pulling the usual items off the Brembo parts shelf just wouldn’t do, so these are new low-profile, five-sided affairs, mounted tight to the clip-ons-together with the stacked headlamps and generous fairing cut-outs, they permit a tighter turning radius, always helpful in the real world of missed exits and middle-of-the-street U-turns.

Pride of place, though, goes to the hogged-out top tripleclamp, one of Terblanche’s favorite components, looking almost too spidery to do its job. Peer right through the bare-metal piece, first at the grease globlettes reassuringly working their way past the steering head’s castellated bearing cap, then sight along the fork tubes all the way to the front fender. Inside the cockpit you’ll find no spaghetti bundles of wiring, no paint overspray, no cheesoid fasteners. About the only aesthetic wart is the EU-mandated “reading lamp” inartistically plopped down upon the windshield. It’s disarmed on U.S. models; better it should have been Compound W’ed!

Lean across the unique Y-shaped gas tank (note to Terblanche & Co.: Do something about the wobbly fuelcap hinge, very out of place here) and grasp the handlebars. Not too extreme a reach. Unlike Massimo Tamburini’s 916 series and his MV Agusta F4, torture devices on anything other than track days and Sunday-morning toots, the 999 can actually be ridden places like a real motorcycle. Terblanche has proclaimed the 999, “not a lot less comfortable than the ST2 sport-tourer,” which goes way too far. But roomier, adjustable ergonomics, slightly higher clip-ons, a lower, flatter seat and clean airflow over the bodywork all add up to the best roadgoing Ducati sportbike since the (pre-Terblanche, sorry) 900SS models. Still, about two hours in the saddle and you’ll want to get off for a stretch, plus that seat may be broad but its padding is pretty thin.

Speaking of the seat, another sore point. The 999’s massive “mono-silencer” is commendably (read: too) quiet and its catalyzer keeps the Greens happy, but that sucker runs H-O-T and radiates its spent energy right where the sun don’t shine! Our infrared thermometer registered 140 degrees F when pointed at the top heat shield, this after a twominute idle on a 70-degree day. The bun-warmer effect is appreciated on foggy rides home in the evening, but it’s ridiculously toasty on warm days, even worse sitting in traffic. Of course, as our Mark Hoyer points out, “But will you really be sitting in traffic? Only if you’re an idiot.” Ducati 999 riders in non-lane-splitting states, you’re on your own. Also, our solo-seat model had no passenger accommodations; if two-up is part of your plan, a lengthy test ride on the biposto version should be a pre-purchase requirement. Nothing worse than a singed Significant Other...

Roasty rumps aside, the 999 moves several rungs up the sophistication scale compared to the 998. Clutch takeup is the smoothest we’ve experienced on recent Ducks. Suspension is almost Honda VFR-like in its compliance over small bumps, yet firms up nicely for backroad attacks. Said Road Test Editor Canet, “Superstable chassis, a little heavy-steering but lighter than the 998. I have tons of confidence that the 999 will never lose its composure even on the bumpiest backroads-the front remains planted, delivers good feedback and isn’t prone to headshake.” Fuel-injection is glitch-free, with no surging, no “blind spots” (BMW take note!). Hoyer again: “Feels ‘old money’ compared to the prilias I’ve been riding lately, so much more refined. Extremely powerful, yet wonderfully smooth engine that can be lugged down low without complaint. Torque curve must be a brick. Awesome!”

Spun higher, the engine gets a little tingly. Per Canet: “Vibes noticeable above 8000 rpm. You don’t have to look down at the tach to know if you’re in the meat of the powerband-if you’re really trying to make time in the twisties and feel the engine smooth out, grab a downshift.” Still, for most riding vibration just isn’t a concern; in sixth gear, 7000 rpm equals 120 mph.

So, there’s the new 999. Not perfect, but better on the racetrack than the bike that came before-one that in race trim won six World Superbike titles. Better on the street, too, considerably so. Softer edged, more comfortable, better suspended and lighter steering, yet quicker and faster at the same time.

But better in the eyes of beholders?

We think yes. Parked alongside, the 998 appears old and unfresh-its lines, remember, were first laid down some 14 years ago. Still, there’s no denying that in its time this was a breakthrough design, a memorable machine, one for the time capsules. Just like the 999.

EDITORS' NOTES

PERHAPS I’VE GROWN TOO FOND OF THE sensuous lines of Ducati’s 916 to embrace any sudden change? Or maybe after watching Massimo Tamburini’s design rule the World Superbike Series with an iron fist for much of the past decade (I know, don’t mention 2002 or that interloper Edwards) the bike’s form has become permanently etched in my mind?

I’d hate to think either is the case, but truth is, I’m not yet completely enamored by the 999’s appearance. Then again, I’ve never been one to hang a leader’s portrait on the wall or place any bike up on a pedestal.

Besides, as a freedom-lovin’ American journalist, it’s my duty to remain open-minded and objective. It helps to remind myself that variety is the spice of life, and even if the chili-hued 999 isn’t exactly tickling my taste buds today, it’s certain to start looking much more tasty once a string of race wins are served up. -Don Canet, Road Test Editor

WHEN I LEFT THE 999’S PRESS INTRODUCtion at the Misano racetrack last July, I only had two unanswered questions: 1 ) How would the new bike work on the street; and 2) How would it compare to the 998?

Well, during my most recent visit to Bologna, I got a chance to ride the two bikes back to back on the road. And I’m happy to report that the 999 is indeed a much nicer streetbike.

The main difference is the new bike’s lower, flatter seat, which lets you support your body weight using your lower back and abdominal muscles instead of throwing you forward onto your wrists. A side-effect of this is noticeably lighter steering, in spite of chassis geometry that is unchanged save for a slightly longer wheelbase. The 999’s suspension is significantly more supple initially, and the aerodynamic fairing and mirrors make things eerily calm in the cockpit. My only complaint is the excessive heat radiating off the catalytic converters, but I think we all know the cure for that... -Brian Catterson, Executive Editor

FOR WHATEVER REASON, THE CAMERA IS not kind to the 999. Its beauty does not readily translate to film (or, increasingly, pixels). I’ll admit, upon first viewing of the early-release CD images, I was the guy who said, “Well, it’s no 916...” Of course, how many more years did you really want to look at the aging 916/996/998 family, first sketched by Tamburini in the late 1980s? At some point, a break had to be made, Ducati had to move on. Icons have sell-by dates, too.

Besides, here’s the thing: In three dimensions, in natural light, this is a seriously stunning motorcycle. Every atom of this bike bears the stamp of the designer (well, okay, the damn bean-counters won the battle for the rear subframe). Terblanche has stepped up and delivered. It is a masterwork. Forget the photos-more importantly, forget the 916-the 999 is here to stay.

We’ll talk again when the Multistrada is released...

-David Edwards, Editor-in-Chief

DUCATI

999

List price $17,695