Forget Technology?
TDC
KEVIN CAMERON
I USED TO BE STRUCK BY THE SIMILARity between the specs of a new racebike and the fashion section of Vogue magazine. In both cases, everything is the product of specialists, and the final result arises from moving these standard pieces around to get the best effect.
"Madame wears..." introduces the reader to the makers of the skirt, the handbag, the blouse and the shoes. In the case of the motorbike, we recog nize the Marchesini wheels, Brembo or Nissin brakes and Ohlins or Showa sus pension. And unseen (shall we call this the motorcycle's "underwear?") are the valve springs, all made of wire from Kobe steel, and the pistons-likewise from extreme specialists who do noth ing else-and the crankshaft, sourced from whoever is currently the "must have" crankshaft maker. Con-rods from Pankl or whoever else is "hot," their caps retained by bolts or studs of man datory multi-phase material.
Where is the creativity? We can learn that multi-phase fastener materials are an outgrowth of jet-engine turbine blade alloys, developed by people who never think about anything else.
Some years ago, I hada short con versation with Ducati engineer Filippo Preziosi, who said much the same thing. He noted that mass properties are defined by the required performance, so you know in advance where the ma jor masses must go. The wheelbase is defined by the compromise between shorter (because it turns quickly) and longer (because like a dragster, a lon ger bike can accelerate a bit harder without breaking its taillight lens). The swingarm length is whatever your en gine and wheelbase leave room for, and the pivot and engine sprocket go where the famous Ohlins handout dem onstrates. The heights of major masses affect maximum braking and accelera tion (think of them as weights on verti cal sticks-the longer you make the sticks, the more leverage the masses have to lift the front or rear wheel), but cornering clearance with compressed suspension defines how low the engine, pipes or rider's feet can go. Suspension travel is also defined— the more you provide, the more the bike buries its nose during braking, and the easier it is to lift the rear wheel. And the more travel there is, the more cornering load compresses it, pushing parts closer to the pavement where they threaten to lever the bike off its wheels. But the less travel there is, the less able the suspension becomes to isolate the machine from bump disturbance. Tires spin under power, hop sideways in corners or skip during braking. There is no "sweet spot" here in which everything settles down and does a great job. There is only a point at which bad effects from conflicting causes are roughly equal. That's where you go—and all the other makers are right there with you.
Maybe the frame is the key—the place where creativity finds full expression? But everyone's using the same range of steering rake and trail, yet there is no agreement on chassis materials. Ducati won a MotoGP world championship with a steel-tube trellis frame against the consensus twinaluminum-beam chassis of the others. Now, Ducati is using carbon-fiber chassis in MotoGP and steel tubes in Superbike. Could it be that there's no clear choice here, that materials matter less than experience?
Engines have lost their primacy in performance. For years now, championships have been won by bikes that are 5-10-mph slower than their competition. Why? Because accurate application of what power you have is much more important than how much there is.
And now, the political conviction that racing series must somehow be "green" has transformed MotoGP into something like the old Mobil Economy Run. With only 21 liters (about 5.5 gallons) of fuel allowed each competitor, the real race is invisible. It takes place in Ducati's analysis office and in the similar computer labs of the other makers. Here, records of engine data from previous races are run through algorithms that try to discover exactly how power contributes to a quick lap time. If greater fuel economy is necessary, less power will be committed to "lower yield" applications, reserving what fuel there is for the more efficient uses. The riders have no idea why their engines "feel funny" or why, as the race progresses, their bikes handle or accelerate or top-end differently. The underlying reason is the fuel allowance: If current consumption and the fuel remaining indicate that the bike cannot finish, levels of economy measures are chosen by the engine computer (no wonder they need sub-processors now). The rider who is best at adapting his riding style to these levels of fuel economy may win the race.
Currently, riders are saying one of the first things to go when fuel is low is traction control—the bike spins rather than accelerates out of turns. If traction control is implemented electronically—by ignition retard or by ignition cuts—fuel will be wasted because it is injected but not burned or is used nonoptionally. If waste can't be afforded because of low fuel, it must be stopped. And perhaps traction control by throttle movement isn't fast enough. Insiders say, "Look for flame out the exhaust; that's what you'll see during ignition cuts." Who can be sure?
Maybe the new "International Tinkertoy Set" is no longer brakes, wheels or specialist connecting-rods. Now, it may be the computer analysts themselves—Andrea Zugna, who did so much for Yamaha, has now been hired away by Honda. Or maybe it's overall orchestration of all the specialties that is essential. Davide Tardozzi, manager of so many Ducati successes in World Superbike, has been hired by BMW, whose Superbike team seems much improved this season.
Racing is never a pure, go-for-it contest. In the early 1980s, tires ruled all strategy. From 2001, electronic controls were dominant. Today, fuel consumption rules invisibly, algorithm versus algorithm. Okay, I give up. Maybe the essentially spec bikes of Moto2 and AMA Pro Racing are the real future. Technology has become an over-specialized bore and a dead end. I'll try to forget technology and just scribble about the enthusiasm. □