Let’s Get Naked: A Ducati S2R 1000 Finds A Home
A Ducati S2R1000 Monster at Pro Italia
“Oh boy… Here we go again,” is in fact the first thought that comes to mind the minute I walk into Pro Italia and realize that, yes, I am in fact once again kicking tires…
Not idly mulling about mind you, but striding purposefully through the dealership with intent-to-kill and purchase kind of eyes… The kind of tire kicking that gets you trouble on the 1st, 15th or 30th of each month…
Should I be? Would I be? Can I be? Could I be? These days it’s just damn hard for me to answer those sorts of questions…
It seems that somewhere along the line my personal passion, career and lifestyle all organically merged into me and the result is this odd combination of confusion, excitement and down right blatant moto-lust…
Rolling through the showroom, I’m struck by the fact that it’s probably time to simply accept and acknowledge the fact that when it comes to things with combustion powered engines and two-wheels my normally logically sound life comes crashing down and grinds to a halt. In effect blows up, only to be rebuilt again with either two-valves or four.
What I think I know and what I know I should do, quickly become superseded by an irrational desire to do the foolish. And while I could probably create an elaborate fictional reality as a cover story and attempt to explain why the irrational is actually rational and therefore life always makes sense, well that’d just be a blatant lie that perpetuates some other version of me. What is probably best described as a holdover of my former self. Not that those stories didn’t roll through my head mind you, but rather because when all is said and done, it’s just easier to tell the truth, and more important be honest with yourself…
Simply put, I’ve come to the not so shocking conclusion that I am in fact a full fledged addict… Some folks pick pills or drugs or drinking as their poisons of choice… For me it’s motorcycles… Plain and simple… They are not just vehicles or modes of transportation, but rather magical creatures with destinies that are anything but predetermined… In my mind they are the ultimate unknowns. They take you places you simply can’t imagine until you’re actually there. They live, they breath, they act up, I believe that they are in fact alive. And they do it with passion. With pride. With purpose.
Rationally — oh, great there’s that word again — I suppose one could make the argument that motorcycles are a healthier lifestyle choice than any of the above mentioned addictions. But frankly I’m so sure about that anymore… I spend an exorbitant of time each day thinking about nothing but riding… Even when I can’t actually get out and do the ‘riding’… From the bits to the bolts to bikes to ride itself, it’s absolutely frightening the amount of time one can spend when they’re in love with an inanimate object. From the sport, to the skill-set, to the lifestyle and growing dream to see and ride everything that’s out there, I’m tired of fighting reality… My reality…
I used to fear it, to run from it, to nonchalantly put it down amongst friends to diffuse the accepted mainstream doctrine that bikes are bad, or evil, or deadly, or who knows what else, particularly with those who didn’t share the passion — with those who didn’t see it or understand it — But no more I say… It times to face up to what it is that makes me alive…
Maybe it’s a function of getting close to turning thirty-two this summer, I don’t know, but I feel a certain sense of urgency at work here… As if time is running through me like an hour-glass. I feel as if I’ve waited my entire life to get to this point, to enjoy the life I always wanted. I’ve spent countless hours counting down the days until I could make the ‘choices’ and bear the burdens of life and enjoy the benefits. And now it’s here. I can feel it. I can see it. I believe it. It’s almost as if I can touch it.
Yet I also feel this sense that there’s only so much of me left and it feels like I’ve got to stop fooling around here. It’s time to get serious, not about my career or my loved ones, or my Cable TV package, but rather it’s time to get serious about me. It’s time to stop wasting mental and emotional energy on the things in life that I don’t really care about.
Is that selfish? Is that conceded?
Probably.
But as they say, ‘you only live once’ and of all the things in life I fear the most, the idea of letting one of the best periods of life pass by as a passenger and not an active participant scares the living hell out of me. I’d rather end up broke and destitute but with a saddlebag full of experiences then rich, wealthy and devoid of meaning. Is that youthful ignorance coming to light? Could be. Maybe at forty with a kid in toe I’ll feel differently about it… But right now it not only seems age-appropriate but time-appropriate… It feels like what I should be doing not what I’m supposed to be doing.
So why a Monster? And an outdated one at that?
Well, several reasons really… For starters I’ve had this weird growing fascination with late 60’s and early 70’s vintage bikes lately. BSA’s, Triumph’s, Norton’s, CB750’s, Mach III’s… Probably a direct result of hanging around them during the Twist shoot… There’s something about how when they’re built-out they showcase a certain kind of purpose, and dare I say urgency…
So why not pick one of those up instead? Good question. Simple answer, while I think they look cool, I’ve got no desire to engage in drum brakes, early disc brakes, headshake or a myriad of other ‘early’ technological advances that seem utterly dated by today’s standards.
The Monster — and by Monster, I mean the original Monster penned by Miguel Galluzzi, not the current Streetfighter/Thing that’s badged Monster/Homologated “Am I Brutale clone or Street Triple knockoff or contemporary slice of moto-evolutionary pie” machine — is in its own way as classic of a machine as say a CB750, but relatively speaking modern, safe, sporty and well, sound… It evokes all the bits of the past that I find cool but in something I actually want and will ride.
Secondly, I love the fact that it’s a completely open canvas. The 999 streetbike turned trackbike experience has certainly opened my eyes to customization, in a way that it wasn’t before. The Monster is the perfect platform for that sort of transformation. People have been doing it for years and I’m greatly looking forward to trying a slice of that moto-pie. The possibilities are practically endless and parts are widely available from a variety of resources. Just hunting all the sources down is almost half the fun…
Third, the idea of picking up a true 2-valved air-cooled Ducati fascinates me because it’s a relatively simple engine that’s been around practically forever. In a perfect world it’s an ideal platform to wrench on myself - a skill I have yet to conquer completely but one I certainly want to experience. Ultimately will I? Have no idea. Time right now is a fluid, combustible medium that seems to move faster then I’d like it to, but just the idea that on an engine like this it’d be possible to give it a go intrigues me greatly. There’s something marvelous about its simplicity in my mind.
Finally, it’s a sporty ride just the way it comes from the factory - It’s not Superbike competent, but it’s street-bike competent, and post-crash I have a new found respect and, dare I say, point of view on what I’m looking for when I’m not out on the track. Something that moves well but doesn’t bring out the speed freak demons inside. Right now the idea of a mellower, more comfortable, sport machine sounds damn good… And so it begins… My own kind of Monster Madness…
Buttonwillow The Italian Contingent Arrives
The 1098S at Buttonwillow
The clock says 3 when I wish it said 4…
It’s amazing how missing one hour of possible sleep seems like such a missed opportunity when you’re just a few hours away from setting out for the next great adventure to test yourself and your soul…
Rest after all is a weapon, as they say. Yet right now I’m feeling like the guy who brought a knife to a gun fight while laying in bed and listening to the void of silence that city life creates this early.
If it weren’t for the trash trucks and transit authority, I’m not even sure I’d know I was awake. Yet I am…
Rolling out of the bed, the dog slowly raises his head and quizzically looks at me, as if to say, ‘I know you’re totally insane and all, but this is nuts’.
I’d like to think it’s the only time this thought will cross my mind this morning but instead it’s just the first salvo of the day. Because to some extent anyone who signs up for a trackday and finds intrigue in seeing the bleeding edge of their skill set probably qualifies as slightly mad.
On one hand it’s a completely beautiful thing; when you can match the right bike with the right environment and take a purely mechanical object and transform into a magical creature that fulfills a fantasy. Yet you’re also taking your prized possession directly into an utterly combustible atmosphere that has dozens of both real and imagined landmines that you’ve got to navigate successfully in order to survive.
Perhaps at its core it’s exactly because of this conflicting duality that tracks provide such an intense draw and offer such challenge and intrigue. Or maybe as the dog seems to be suggesting perhaps I’m just somewhat nuts. Hard to tell when the even the coffee pot shrieks in disbelief when you fire it up before it’s timer has gone off.
photo by vanhap
A dozen tie-down straps later, I’m losing layers of clothing at a surprisingly rapid rate. Sweating in chunks in the back of the pick up truck bed as the mildly stifling heat of an empty and pitch-black neighborhood works its way over me when the local paperboy shows up.
No more then fourteen, the kid makes eye contact as I tighten the tensile strength of a hand built synthetic strap derived spider web. Disbelief scrolls across his face while he feigns indifference. No doubt he’s wondering who in their right mind would choose to not only get up this early but also start hustling when they don’t have to? It seems counter intuitive to say the least and at this point I’m not entirely sure I disagree with him. The idea of sliding back under the covers seems like a noble thought indeed. But then to do so would remove the possibility of today’s scheduled enjoyment.
A second later the kid tosses yet another paper, which lands with a unexpectedly loud thud, while I light my first smoke of morning and give into today’s temptation — The idea that in just a few hours I’ll be surveying a pristine track on a causal California Monday with my own weapon of choice.
It’s time to finally let the 1098S out to play again.
I suppose we all buy the bikes we do with certain images in mind; perhaps it’s a great sport-touring journey up a virgin coastline or an ever gaining adventure across a desolate landscape. Maybe it’s the crystallized picture of dirt flying over the front fender as you whack the throttle in between the dunes or a collection of pixels that showcase a grinding puck going down in the perfect canyon corner. Or perhaps it’s something simpler; the image of your own two hands wrenching on your beloved beast in the garage. I suppose I’m no different. (more…)
An Angry Mountain That Needs Some Respect
Sliding over the saddle, I duck to the inside. Bask in the sunshine and feel the harmony of the bike, the road and the reason come together. The tires grab the chunky asphalt and tilt to the match the moment. It’s fast and swift and marvelous.
All the ingredients of perfection.
Twisting my neck, I stare down the edge of a peripheral vision. Try to connect with what’s remotely perceptible. Watch the yellow lines comfortably contort around the side of the mountain before they disappear behind the next jutting collection of rocks and weeds. An L-Twin revolution later and I’m aiming for the apex as the bike begins to hit its marks… When I feel violence descend…
A ferociously evil, nasty gust of wind rushes down the face of the mountain. With an instant and unrelenting velocity that’s impossible to ignore or avoid.
The bike stands straight up. With deathly immediacy. The tires get tossed. Wickedly. The moment turns awkward and uncontrollable. A sense of helplessness drowns out the whirl of the engine and any remnants of joy. I feel my heart rate skyrocket while it jackhammers away at my chest. Then there’s an instant sensation of dread. A moment of panic. And a half a second later, a day which seemed destined for the divine suddenly becomes nothing but chaos as the bike simply floats three-feet towards the edge of the outside of the corner… All by itself.
Straight away I feather the brakes. Try to remain calm. Try to regain a sense of composure. And then I look up… At oblivion… And watch the last vestiges of my confidence swirl away into a rising spiral of ether in a completely unbeknownst manor. I’m alleviated of any illusions that I’m the one that’s in charge.
The sand kicks up. The rocks on the side of the road jingle. Debris soars as I continue to veer off course. The brightly shinning guardrail radiating with a sense of destiny – and beyond that lies mortal disaster. Hundreds and hundreds of feet of falling.
Quickly I force myself to snap out of it - or at least try to - and ignore the target-fixation that’s crimping my mind. Squinting at the apex while trying to look through the dust, I find myself thinking, “You’ve got to do something – Now!”
It’s an immediate and omnipresent thought. Instinctually I start pushing on the inside handlebars — and praying. To whom I have no idea, but as the bike begins to battle the atmospheric pressure it seems like a damn good idea. At a moment like this, what’s there to lose anyway?
Of course this theological indecision is nothing new, even the Greeks couldn’t quite figure out who ruled the wind. At various points in their mythological history they believed that one of seven different deities controlled the flow of air. And the confusion didn’t stop there - Most scholars believe that Aeolus was the most famous of the wind gods and there were merely three different variants of him throughout the ages. Apparently humanity has always held a certain kind of indecisiveness when it comes to convection currents. (more…)
Twist The Throttle - Your Reaction, Some Commentary, and a Contest
It has been an overwhelming and rather astonishing week to say the least… Since soft launching on the Discovery Turbo website just 9 days ago, the response to “Twist The Throttle” has been amazing to witness. Word of the project has already begun to spread like a wildfire across the Internet, popping up not only on a host of websites and motorcycle forums within The United States, but quite remarkably it has also begun to go international. Virally spreading from the States to the UK and other European countries, then to Asia, and even all the way to the Middle East… Ahhhh the power of the web! (more…)
Cornering Speed : The Past Year of My Life
The 1098S idly rumbles beneath me while a cool wind slides through the air. Together the bike and I sit and wait. The motionless tires straddling the edges of two never quite ending rain puddles. All around us the winter leaves swirl. Finally the garage door begins to slowly open. Its old burnt orange colored panels chattering with each inch of movement. It’s a unique sound. A sound that’s full of history. The gearhead equivalent of growth rings in a tree. Each creak and clack allowing its listener to hear the sound of time in motion. Eventually the door stops rising and I put the bike in gear. The ‘10 grunts up the hilly driveway with ease. Pops straight into its well worn tire chock and as I kill the engine I wonder, does the bike even know its year has now ended?
As 2007 comes to a close I once again find myself looking backwards. The past twelve months have certainly offered a roller coaster of life events which have ranged from total brilliance to utter despair. This in and of itself is not unique - it’s part of the core human condition - and it has been my experience that seemingly every year offers wildly emotionally oscillating moments. Yet what feels particularly divergent and different about this past year is that I continue to find it hard to properly quantify or categorize the moments contained within the past twelve months. They are new parts for a mental warehouse which has no inventory control. Events forged in context and yet with each growing day persist in confusing my emotional filing system.
The past year has been built mostly by complex moments. Events which on some level are greatly intertwined with their preceding and proceeding moments and yet when taken individually they feel surprisingly disconnected from everything else. This both seems like a strange contradiction and yet it also feels like it makes perfect sense too. Perhaps it’s just the usual demons of self-reflection once again infiltrating my mind.
History would suggest that mankind has always pondered its place in the universe, if not simply just one’s individual life. The very etymology of the word human for instance is derived from the Latin text humanus and means “of the earth” which of course stands in stark opposition to the idea of “celestial beings”, whomever or whatever they might be. The great pre-Socratic Greek philosopher Protagoras claimed that, “Man is the measure of all things; of what is, that it is; of what is not, that it is not”. Even the famed Immanuel Kant got in on the action, writing that, “Man is distinguished above all animals by his self-consciousness, by which he is a ‘rational animal’.”
Theoretically in big picture terms the importance of this self-reflection is to sort out one’s standing in the universe - to give meaning to the unknown in a logical or rational manor - but thoughts like that stir up bigger issues for a different blog. In practical terms the concept of reflection is an important part of maximizing the utility of having experiences in the first place. We look back on what we’ve done in order to decide whether or not to do it again. This process helps us determine whether or not we enjoyed an experience or were successful in completing a goal. Yet it’s also a rather dubious device because when it comes to emotional experiences reflection has the power to make you feel emotions - both the good ones and the bad ones - and sometimes these emotions transpire to cast a shadow of negativity or doubt over your life.
Over the past several weeks as the yearly self-reflection bout has taken hold, I keep finding myself going to bed with thoughts of what I know, what I wish I knew and what I want to know and yet only find myself waking up hungover from the possibilities of the future. When I was a child all of this was incredibly easier, each new year brought a specific milestone to achieve - the advancement to another grade or year in school. Even early jobs in my career offered a similar positional quest with definable points for reference. However things change with age and the trick of this past year was the gradual realization that this is now my life. I’m no longer young and I’m not old but rather stand somewhere in the middle. And it’s a big ‘middle’.
In many ways 2007 started as it ended - with lots of work, thoughts of the 1098S running through my mind and one heck of a nasty head cold. Though the bike wouldn’t arrive in States for a few more months, my January was consumed by Counting Down The Days and the thoughts of promise that only a new Ducati can offer.
Suddenly what had been a grim gray day seems awfully promising. It’s rather amazing to me how when you’re sick the world seems a whole heck of a lot less fun, much less friendly and all together tiring, but as the reality starts to set in that the arrival of the 1098 is just around the corner, no matter how sick I feel, I can’t help but smile inside… It’s going to be a very exciting year to say the least…
February was spent recovering from yet another sinus surgery - my 4th overall - which of course brought quite a bit of Doctor ordered time away from motorcycles. I suppose that everyone has their health related issues with in life, mine apparently is and perhaps always will be poor sinus cavities. Thankfully the Viccodine made most of the month a blur and by the time I was ready for action, Jake from Pro Italia was calling to say that the 1098S was almost here - sort of. The only question left was what kind of bike it would turn out to be…
I constantly keep finding myself awash in the memories of previous Ducati bikes and the dreams that come from purchasing a new model. What kind of temperament will the new bike have? Will she feel solid from the start like the ‘05 999 did or will she have to work herself in to shape like the ‘04 999? Will she feel as nimble as the ‘03 749 or will she turn in slower and stouter like the 9’s? How will she behave when she comes home and finds another Ducati in the garage? Will she like it? Will she hate it? Will she act up? This the tip of the iceberg in what has been a bizarre round of mental curiosity, but then long ago I came to believe that each and every individual Ducati bike has its own soul and its own unique character. They eat, they breath, they speak and they all do as they please with just a little help from us. So the question ultimately becomes what kind of bike will my 1098S be and I can’t wait to find out.
March 10th brought the first taste of an answer to that very question, but not before a reflective morning bout with a Building Euphoria Took Hold.
By now one would think I would understand the emotional outpouring that comes from a new bike. The hopes. The fears. The drain on the checking account. The crazy motolust inspired insanity of it all. After all this will be my fourth Ducati in less then three years and obviously I’ve done this dance before. Yet as the clock continues to move very slowly through the night I find myself feeling like a kid before Christmas once again. And again. And again. ( I mean who knew that March was the holiday season, right???)
Finally, after months of not so patiently waiting, Destiny Arrived. The old man, Motor Milt, and I headed up to PI and picked up the newest Diva before taking her out on her maiden voyage. It was instantly apparent that the 10 would be unlike any other Ducati I’ve ever owned. And that turned out to be a great thing…
Randomly while coming around corners you can’t help but feel like you’re playing yourself in an XBox game. The microsecond you merely begin to have the first inclination to even think about a movement or motion, it just happens. To say that this bike is responsive doesn’t even begin to describe how much movement it offers. While other bikes are fluid or fast, the 1098S acts on an entirely different level. It removes all hesitation or doubt, completely bypassing your central nervous system and taking its direction straight from the electrical impulses emanating in your mind. There is no other worldly explanation for how it can react so quickly and with so little fuss.
I usually hesitate to evoke religion when I write stuff for the blog since its such a divisive topic, but after four hours of riding through the Santa Monica Mountains just above Malibu, I find myself feeling fairly certain that this bike wasn’t designed in Ducati Corsa, but rather fell from the heavens. The fact that it is street legal is absolutely amazing and it’s just the first day, how crazy is that?
Chapters of Life: LA to Carmel
Dark highly defined clouds descend from above as I work my way towards a disassociation from the everyday. The curves come and go, one by one, as I find myself feeling fairly certain that every so often it’s a good idea to grab the handlebars, twist the throttle, and whip around a few majestic landscapes in the hope of escaping the regularity of the work week. Oddly there’s something completely reassuring and yet still intrinsically wonderfully about leaving LA in order to capture and conquer the unfamiliar bends in the road while you let the day-to-day fade away and watch the tripmeter continue to roll.
Three weeks ago I mindlessly found myself checking the calendar and realized that the coming weekend was the big event – the social gathering of the year as it might be - and as is the nature of those of us who ride, my first inclination wasn’t, “gee I need to book a flight” or “wow, I need to make sure my hotel reservation is correct”, but rather did I have the time? The time to escape…
Could I pack the saddlebags once more and hit the road, free and clear?
Of course, as motorcyclists tend to do, even though I didn’t really have the time, I found the time. Reconfigured the days and nights leading up to the event and the clock on the other end solely for the purpose of giving myself four days of pristine early winter riding on the California Coastline.
Perhaps it wasn’t the most professional thing to do, or the even most grown up – though I’m not quite sure what ‘grown up’ even means these days - but somehow it seemed the most prudent. At least to me. Because days tend to come and go, but few offer the chance to capture magic along the way…
To be fair, this all started with a mere phone call.
I was a quarter of the way through a wonderfully self-indulgent single malt when the cell rang and the gal on the other end began to chatter. Beat after beat she beamed with pride over her coming wedding. What had been just a mere date on the calendar suddenly seemed like quite a bit more. Then she rather innocently asked whether or not I was planning on riding up to her wedding.
My response was fairly atypical for me, I hadn’t really given it much thought.
When it comes to planning adventures, get-aways, or simply days to ride, it seems I tend to be rather last minute about it all. It’s not that I don’t spend the time to ponder these sort of things ahead of time, but rather that I often find myself waging an internal battle between what I would like to do and what I think I should do. Perhaps that’s just the phase of life I find myself in right now, who knows… (more…)
Finding a Piece of Heaven
The canyon is empty as the sun starts to rise over a ridge and an eerie peace scuttles across the horizon. It’s a tranquility that won’t last long. In the distance low lying bushes of brush wave back and forth in a soothingly slow warm later summer wind as the heat starts to build. First waffling through the air, then bouncing off the asphalt. Rapidly increasing with gigantic steps in small minutes. Soon the air filled with the roar of an L-Twin.
Heartbeats go by and I find myself dropping another gear. Matching the revs again. Hearing the engine’s fiendish growl once more before sliding over in the saddle to meet yet another grand corner coming from nowhere. The kind of curvaceous concrete monument to mankind that would never be built today for fear of a million litigations.
Under the helmet, I bite my quickly drying out lips and sing an inner song of defiance. Because roads that whip like this should never be left alone for long… And today they won’t be…
Yet another brilliant corner on Montezuma Valley
Swing my head left, I look as far off into the distance as I can, yet still can’t comprehend the grandeur of the moment. The bike settles down. Bites with a ferocious force. The feeling shooting directly through my motor-deprived soul. It’s a combination of grit and giddiness that I haven’t felt in quite some time. As I let the last bits of the front brake out, the bike finds itself and its set of rails before it starts to hammer. The asphalt interface beckoning to bend the laws of physics right before my eyes — yet the bike never backs off, never slows down, never hesitates in any way. Instead it throws down with a deep seeded soul-searching kind of left-handed hook that’s so smooth and forceful that it’s purely magical. In flashes, everything just happens, with do before you think ease. And as soon as the corner comes to an end, the next corner comes flying forward and it starts all over. Hit, repeat, hit again.
Dozens of minutes later I pull off at a viewpoint filled with an ever-growing vista and pop my helmet off to soak in the moment. Amongst the missing elements of life, I hear the sounds of the silence as they’re overwritten with the fire-crackling embers of a suddenly still 1098S. A day of full tilt total motion that feels like it was ages in the making.
Waiting for the old man to play catch up, I unzip the leathers. Feel the sweat burst down my neck. Gaze over the open valley floor and swear to myself that in another lifetime I must have experienced this kind of heavenly brilliance before. While my mind simmers on the subject, I light a smoke and take the day in. Revel in the fact that Montezuma Valley Road is as good as it gets.
Photo Op on Montezuma Valley RoadOpened for the first time to traffic in 1964, the state highway connects society to a furnace full of life. Cut from the very cliffs that surround the Anza Borrego Desert, the road bends and banks its way to the town of Borrego Springs with a wild turn your head on its ear kind of sensibility that’s simply memorizing if you dig corners with altitude and attitude. Supposedly the road took 10 years and 160,000 tons of dynamite to create. It would take a lifetime to enjoy completely.
Watching the asphalt bake I can’t help but think that the men responsible for building this road enjoyed the concept of the ride to the fullest. The feelings that the road elicits put the magic in magical.
A moment later MotorMilt comes to a stop right behind me on top of the ST3. It’s been more then a few days since we last took a ride together and while life has lead us both in a variety of directions, there’s something extremely comforting about being able to take a few hours and hark back to another time. Of course we don’t quite go back as far as the Anza-Borrego area. Eons ago this desert was vivacious creator of life, filled with lush greenery and a vast slice of the animal kingdom. Eventually the continents moved and the earth shifted. Mountains formed which pushed coastal cloud cover higher into the sky. This evaporated what little moisture was left and suddenly a desert was born.
With his helmet off, the old man looks out at the vast Anza-Borrego Desert and says with a grin, ‘This is just like Route 33’. All I can do to acknowledge him is smile back. Because the remnants of this drastic biological and geological shift is a mountain range on the eastern side of the valley floor that rises to an impeccable 2,400 feet before plummeting 2,000 feet with a rapid succession of heavenly curving asphalt corners that rank amongst the best I’ve ever tackled. The road plays longer then it’s mileage but ends all to quickly. Offering great pavement, tremendous views and incredible turns that make you shake your head and smile. Without a doubt this is one of the most spectacular routes I’ve ever had the pleasure of riding.
Hours later, while sitting in the garage and staring at the bikes, I take a soft sip of a glorious single malt and find myself wondering what took me so long. After more then a year in the southern part of SoCal this is the road that was worth the trip. It’s not a Route 33 clone – I’m not sure that anything is - rather it’s probably best described as Route 33’s younger sibling. Just as empty, just as stark, just as curvy, but not nearly as endless. It’s hard to comprehend why I waited this long to bask in such a supreme sportbike riding afterglow.
More picts after the jump… (more…)
Speed On Two Wheels News
Just a short bit about Speed On Two Wheels.
If you haven’t caught the original TV version then you’re in luck. The Discovery Science Channel is going to be re-running the television version of the documentary on January 14th & 15th. The TV version has 45 minutes of content as opposed to the Extended Version on the DVD which is 59 minutes long and does not include commercials. Check your local listings here.
Also Speed On Two Wheels : The Extended Version on DVD is finally available on Amazon!
Additionally Twisting Asphalt readers can still get a 20% discount on Speed On Two Wheels DVD Orders if you use Google Checkout via the SOTW website. Just type in the following coupon code: twistingasphlt20%off 
Counting Down The Days
It has been a wildly up and down day thus far. I walked in the door a few hours ago with a particularly foul mood hanging over my head, no doubt spurred on by the full blown sinus infection that I’ve been battling for four weeks — Which without a doubt is the bane of the human experience in my book — Anyway, I come inside, I go through the usual routine; check the mail, hang up my coat (more like drop it on a chair, but I digress…), feed the dog, bla bla bla… Finally I get to the point where I’m checking the voicemail. And in mere seconds my day completely turns around…
Someone from Pro Italia has left a message asking the best question I’ve been asked in quite some time.
“We’re putting in final orders. Which color 1098S do you want, Red or Black?”
Suddenly what had been a grim gray day seems awfully promising. It’s rather amazing to me how when you’re sick the world seems a whole heck of a lot less fun, much less friendly and all together tiring, but as the reality starts to set in that the arrival of the 1098 is just around the corner no matter how sick I feel, I can’t help but smile inside… It’s going to be a very exciting year to say the least…
Superbike Planet’s Full 1098 Review
The boys over at Superbike Planet have posted a very in-depth review of the 1098 that covers a lot of bases yet to be discussed in other publications, including ‘S’ vs. base model differences… Enjoyable reading to say the least…
Each press attendee was only permitted to experience the kitted “S” model for one session and, with Soup, it ended up being the final ride of the day. The obvious differences we noticed beyond the elevated roar of intake and full-open exhaust was its inclination to wheelie on demand, something the standard machine would not do willingly ay Kyalami’s altitude. This was not really a problem since everyone was pre-warned not to wheelie–purely a safety-driven decision delivered by track management. Behave we did, admittedly only slipping-up twice. The “S” machine also seemed much crisper when accelerating and moving even more quickly through the rev-range. We also found that the two units we rode were as different in handling as in their model designation and components. After riding the standard 1098 in four straight sessions, our expectations of the “S” version should have had it behaving somewhat similar but actually it did not, as it seemed to turn more quickly and with less effort. We suspect both characteristics of more aggressive baseline geometry and differences in its Ohlins suspension’s heights and travels.
You can read the rest here… As a total aside, why doesn’t the Soup have an RSS feed? This drives me nuts… Apparently Soup does have an RSS feed — Montgomery Bikers webmaster Alex and Hawk from the enjoyable read Who gives a shit about the Fucking marmot? Blog both passed along the link… My RSS feed reader thanks them…
A Monster Build Blog
At some point every rider probably fantasizes about retooling their own bike as they see fit and as the weather turns colder and colder in most parts of the country it seems like a logical time to find some inspiring tales to kick start the creative juices. Enter the 1999 Ducati Monster M900 Build Blog, a self described “play-by-play following of the rebuild and customization of a Monster 900″. Over a three month period Josh Vincent from Memphis, Tennessee has been painstakingly rebuilding his M900 and posting nuggets of information about the process on his blog. A worthwhile read imho…
Chris Kelley’s Online Ducati Maintenance Videos
Chris Kelly from California CycleWorks in San Diego and DucatiTech.com fame has posted some Online How-To Maintenance Videos for the DIY Ducati owner who’s interested in learning how to take care of their bike themselves. The videos are helpful, remarkably fast to load and to the point…. Good stuff
If you want to see them all head over and Check out the rest of the Vids…
The Motley Fool reviews Ducati
The Motley Fool, an American self-help investment website has posted a review of Ducati’s financials called “Ducati Revs”…
Long story short, Ducati has a long road ahead of it before it can catch up to profitable rivals such as Japan’s Honda (NYSE: HMC), or America’s Polaris (NYSE: PII) and Harley-Davidson (NYSE: HOG). But at least it’s on the right road. Losses are shrinking, and the firm continues to make good on CEO Federico Minoli’s promise to “maintain a tight control on sales and production in order to avoid excessive [inventories].” While the firm’s inventories didn’t contract as much in this quarter as they did in the first half, at 2% down from a year ago, they’re still headed in the right direction.
If you’d like to read the whole article, head on over to The Fool and sign up. The article is free for anyone who enters an email address…
What Every Monster Owner Needs
It’s a few days late for Christmas I admit, but if that new Nintendo Wii didn’t show up here’s the solution for lil’ Junior… A Peg Perego battery powered Ducati Monster for 3 to 7 year olds…
The Peg Perego Ducati Monster is as close to a “real” Ducati as any boy could imagine! Your son will love the realistic “twister grip” accelerator, brake pedal, sound effects and more. Parents will appreciate removable training wheels and high speed lock out.
2 speed forward (2 & 4 mph) Removable training wheels Key activated electronic ignition and engine sound effects Push-button horn and headlight Realistic “twister grip” accelerator with separate brake pedal Adult activated high speed lockout Dual motors on rear wheel for high performance Working kickstand Includes rechargeable 12-volt (8Ah) battery and charger
You can read more about it here.
End of Year Desmosedici RR Rumors
According to the rumor mill Ducati has recently given dealers an update on the status of the Desmosedici RR. This update claims that 1,000 orders for Desmosedici RR have been taken with production tentatively scheduled to begin in July 2007. 999R owners make up nearly half of the pre-orders and will receive their bikes before the end of 2007. The remaining folks who placed an order will see their Moto GP derived bikes arrive during the first half of ‘08. Finally, pricing for all new Desmosedici orders has very quietly gone up five thousand Euros.
To put the success of the Desmosedici pre-orders in perspective, Modena automotive neighbor Lamborghini has sold roughly 1,500 of their volume leader Gallardo for each of the last two years.
Raptors: Giandrea Fabbro 1098 Interview
Raptors & Rockets has posted an short but interesting interview with Giandrea Fabbro, the man behind the design of the new Ducati 1098 Superbike.
What was your design philosophy with the new 1098?
“It was to design a sportbike without any compromise, without any understatement and the image had to be sport. That’s why it is much pointier than before.”
You can read more here.
Welcome to Paradise
The sun is slowly crawling towards the horizon and the shadows are just starting to get a touch long as I slide over in the saddle, feathered the front brake and dropped the bike down a gear before entering the beginning of a right-left-right-left sequence of escalating smiles, spectacularly wild opposing bends in the road and damn near daydream like excitement.
As each successive corner connects to the next and flips the other way, it’s hard to ignore that it’s the middle of the week, the roads are empty and it’s December. Somewhere in the back of my mind I can’t quite fathom that this is in fact real. That I’m here, today…
And that the old man is following right behind me.
We’re alone and yet we’re together, riding a curving oasis of a road up a rapidly rising mountain towards a three-hundred and sixty degree million-mile vista.
Emotionally it seems like it’s been a years since I last got a ride in with the old man. You get busy, your schedule is in state of flux, things slide, things move, and before you know it some of the most important aspects of life – the things you truly hold dear - inadvertently keep getting pushed to the sidelines. Keep getting mentioned in phrases that start with words like, ‘next’, ‘later’, or ‘soon’. Words that don’t turn into memories, they simply get displaced, along with a dozen other activities in the name of what needs to get done today.
But every so often you have to just say screw it, the memories are more important then the work.
In truth, I’m not quite sure how or when the old man and I hit upon the idea that it was time for a father-son ride in the new neck of the woods. But I’m glad we did. There’s something beautiful about being able to share new roads with old friends.
Rearward Reflections
I’ve got to admit; lately I’ve been a pretty horrible slacker when it comes to posting what’s been going on. Something about this time of year seems to bring a massive amount of procrastination out. That’s been true as far back as I can remember. The holiday season has always been a mental struggle of sorts. Perhaps it’s the cold air and the harsh winter light, or maybe it’s just the incessant holiday commercials that make me want to do nothing but hibernate instead of actively trying to be creative. Surprisingly no matter how good things seem to be right now – and they’re very, very good - the adventure of the day-to-day feels an awful lot like the last several miles in a marathon when you’re mentally and physically depleted.
Sunday I tried to combat this odd sense of lethargy with a short loop through the western edge of the Temecula Wine Region. Covering parts of several previous loops, I shot down Rancho California, before popping on to De Luz Road and taking it nearly all the way to Fallbrook before coming back around on Sandie Creek Road. As some of you might recall long time reader Ford mentioned this loop quite sometime ago and while at first I wasn’t completely sold on it, the more I get to know these roads the more enjoyable I find them.
I suspect that part of my hesitancy is a continual mental juxtaposition between what it felt like to ride the Santa Monica Mountains and what it feels like to ride around here. I don’t mean to continually bring it up, but the more I mentally work my way through the transition, the more aware I keep becoming of what it is exactly that I enjoy or I miss or perhaps more simply feel on a personal level.
On Sunday, I found myself breaking the loop down in a very methodical manor. In some respects it was a mental exercise that wasn’t all that far removed from how one treats a track. First there’s the short jaunt on the freeway, then there’s a quick shot through a relatively built up area, then you hit the beginning of the back roads – but the first chunk carves its way right through a collection of working farms and the road suffers because of that: it’s bumpy, it’s paved poorly, you’ve got side cross traffic, and there’s a ton of crap on the road – yet eventually you end up on a ten or twelve mile stretch that just screams. The kind of curving road surface that begs for a sportbike. It’s fun, it’s twisty, it’s fast, relatively well paved. All the attributes of a great ride.
The more I broke these various sections down the more keenly aware I kept becoming that each segment brings out different emotions. The freeway jaunt for instance is really no longer than the relatively straight shot up the Pacific Coast Highway that takes you from Santa Monica to the great canyon roads. But because the scenery is so different my initial reaction was to feel less than excited while riding it. Yet now that I’ve done it a few times, I’ve come to the realization that while the imagery is obviously not the same, that’s more than alright because the route offers something the PCH doesn’t. I-15 early in the morning offers the opportunity to really crank up the speed. Maybe double or triple what I’d do on the coast. Of course hitting a hundred on a superbike in the straight line isn’t particularly hard nor is it challenging – but it’s still fun. There’s a perverse pleasure that comes from looking down and realizing that you’re doing eighty and all it takes to hit triple digits is a small incremental twist of your wrist. Suddenly the cars next to you, which at first glance appeared to be moving fast, seem downright slow in comparison.
The Thanksgiving Get Away… (sort of)
You never see it coming and you never hear it. There’s no obvious marker to acknowledge or route you can take to find it. Yet it’s out there, waffling among the molecules as they wrap themselves around your fairing while you fly around a curving slice of canyon ecstasy.
And when it hits – there’s no jarring effect, no fully compressed suspension, no unexpected side-to-side drift – just a deeply meaningful motherload moment of personal inspiration.
It’s the kind of jolt to your system that throws every circuit breaker on your body. A charge so powerful that it electrifies every aspect of your riding and reminds you in that one particular moment exactly what it is about this sport that means something to you on a personal level.
Now, it doesn’t happen on every ride – I wish it did – and perhaps it doesn’t even happen for every rider – but it does exists. And when it comes your way there’s a shock and an awe that holds the power to overwhelm the very things that you thought you knew when you woke up and the things that you wished you remembered for all of eternity.
For months it seems like I’ve been chasing a fantasy, maybe even a ghost, and yet when this kind of inspiration comes smacking itself upside your head in such a blatant and full tilt manor it’s hard to ignore its presence. It’s hard not to be pulled straight out of your helmet right in the middle of the ride and pulled straight up in to a third-person view of life that where the ‘real’ reveals itself as the very fantasy you were seeking in the first place.
For me, today was that day.
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OWDnet : ‘New Blue’ Detailed w/ Specs
Neil Johnston of One Wheeled Drive fame has published a significantly more detailed look at NCR’s ‘New Blue’ retro/concept/styling exercise. Some nice photos that highlight the various parts of the bike.
Palomar Mountain : Hope Exists
Photo By Rick Clemson
I knew I was going to fast when the inside of my helmet started pressing against my face. Few things send as clear and direct of a signal as the pressure of plastic on your chin. It’s a physical indication that exists on the barrier that lies between mere speed and total, outright law breaking insanity. Looking down I watched in sheepish awe as the speedo rolled over and hit the century mark. Glancing off into the Southern distance, the nearly empty asphalt continued to rapidly approach and it was obvious that one way or another today was going to get interesting…
While the rest of the world was just starting to wake up, I exited the I-15 freeway and weaved my way towards the first gas station I could find. After a splash of fuel, I pulled the well-worn Madmap out of the tank bag and started trying to establish some bearings. Knowing where you are at any given moment is perhaps the most difficult aspects of finding and learning new riding roads. Especially when it all looks new and you have no landmarks from which draw on.
Even though I had memorized the map several times already, the fact that I felt compelled to pull it out felt uncomfortably odd. A sort of internal confusion was at hand. And yet the bright squiggly colors on the folded paper told a very promising story – Cunningly curvy asphalt laid ahead – and for the first time in ages life seemed like it was righting itself.
More after the break… (more…)
A pict of Ducati/NCR’s ‘New Blue’
Never one to forget a historical achivement, it seems that Ducati has commissioned a 30th anniversary edition of Cook Neilson’s famed ‘Old Blue’ from NCR and dubbed it ‘New Blue’. After taking delivery of a standard Ducati SportClassic Sport 1000S, NCR tuned the new bike by removing eighty-four pounds and adding an additional 30 horsepower, which is a not so shabby way to making it go a heck of lot faster…
More after the fold…
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Alternate Perspectives: De Luz Road, The 2nd Time
The last several weeks have been as strange a collection of days as I’ve had in quite some time. While they’ve been exciting and enjoyable, it certainly feels like I’ve been all over the place - and physically speaking I have. So it goes when you’re spending your time traveling. Yet as tripmeter for life has continued to roll on, I keep finding myself feeling greatly at odds with my new local riding roads.
At first I dismissed this as mere lethargy relating to the recent traveling, but as the days have passed, I keep finding myself feeling this nebulous sense of uncertainty when it comes to riding. Not in terms of the desire to ride, but rather where to ride.
I suppose I should have seen this coming and perhaps it’s just the natural order of uprooting yourself, but after years of living and breath the curvaceous bends of the Santa Monica Mountains it’s been harder then I had anticipated to get adjusted to riding around the Temecula region. I don’t say that to dismiss the local riding around here, but rather to admit that I have yet to find the roads I’m seeking.
Part of the problem no doubt is the fact that I simply haven’t ridden all that much as of late – and I certainly haven’t ridden all that much down here. Hell, I have yet to feel acclimated with area in general, especially when it comes to the simple things in life (‘Where was the Starbucks again?’).
Thankfully yesterday I finally had some time to get a ‘local’ ride in. As strange as it sounds the jaunt was perhaps only the fourth or fifth ride I’ve taken in the area since moving. That’s not a lot of time on the ground, so logically I can’t find fault in my sense of confusion when it comes to not knowing where to ride. You can’t instinctively know where great roads are – you have to discover them. And that takes time and ride after ride after ride of research.
With that in mind I’ve been spending a great deal of time on the ‘net searching for new local riding roads. It hasn’t been a completely futile search, but it’s been close. While most of the great motorcycle roads in California have been well detailed on the internet, the greater Temecula region and the upper end of Northern San Diego County don’t seem to be as well documented. At least I haven’t found a site that offers much in the way of a sportbike riders’ utopia. I was hoping the well known motorcycle road website, Pashnit.com, would shed some light on the subject, but the site seems to focus far more on the upper end of the state then the bottom end.
Yet as fate would have it, it appears that I have not been the only one scouring the net, looking for more local riding roads. A thread started on the DucatiMonster.Org website, titled,
What’s the opinion of De Luz Road?
As some of you might recall, the last ride I took in the area was on Sandia Creek & De Luz Road. Long time reader Ford had pointed it out and my initial reaction was that it was a pretty decent place to play around with the sportbike.
Yesterday I tried an alternate take on the same loop that was suggested in the DucatiMonster thread by a rider named troyslap.
De Luz is tight, no runoff room, and streams cross the road. Great ride is I-15 to Clinton Keith Rd, west. then on to Tenaja, then Via Volcano, then Los Gatos ( Los Gatos is about a 25% grade downhill, and kinda rough, beware, feels like you are going over the bars when you brake) left on Carancho, then onto DeLuz and to Fallbrook or Temecula, you choose. After Clinton Keith turns to Tenaja it is a nature area, sometimes horses. These are great roads for Monster, SBK ride is tough. All these are narrow, and blind corners with cars or trucks coming at ya sometimes, so ride to the right and within your ability, no room for error.
It was definitely an interesting experience trying a few of these roads out for the second time around – this time via a slightly different loop. I don’t quite understand it, but yesterday my reaction felt so very, very different then the first time out. Perhaps originally I was blindsided by the ‘need’ to find something, yet this time I felt so greatly at odds with what I remembered the road feeling like. Yesterday the road felt rougher, the water crossings more apparent, the gravel and sand on the surface more intense. There seemed to be so many more obstacles that presented danger that I for much of the ride it felt like I was battling the odds and not enjoying the journey. Who’s to say which reaction to the same road is correct. Maybe the first time out my senses weren’t sharp enough or perhaps this time around I was simply in a downer of mood. I really don’t know. But by the time I got home the residual feelings and emotions were a strange twist on post-riding depression. I felt so greatly disappointed and yet so curious about what the road really was like. It was as if these two diametrically opposed versions of the same reality were battling it out inside my mind. And the result was a complete inability to reconcile what I saw with what I felt on either journey.
This much I think is clear, without a doubt De Luz Road is the crown jewel of the Temecula wine region. The rest of the roads that connect to it hold so much promise and yet don’t quite live up to it. At least they didn’t yesterday. If there were no water crossings, better pavement and a tad more camber these could be some killer roads to traverse. But instead they never quite let you getup to speed – at least not Santa Monica Mountain speed. With so many obstacles it’s hard to push it much beyond a nice sport-touring pace and perhaps that nagging sensation I’m still feeling is the fear that sport-touring is this region’s calling card.
It’s Real - The Ducati 1098 is Announced
Following yesterday’s ‘leaked’ photos and today’s MCN news story, Ducati CEO Federico Minoli offically announced the arrival of the 1098 on his blog.
We tried in every way possible to keep the surprise until Milan, but they beat us to the punch. Enjoy!
By the way, for the base version of the 1098: 160 HP and 381 lbs.
You can check out the flash introduction here.
Update:
Early reports of pricing are as follows:
1098 Base - $14,995 USD
1098S - $19,995 USD
1098 Tricolor - $24,995 USD
