I'm not so
sure that this story is going to be much of a road test. Trying to judge
this thing with "faster than that / nimbler than this" parameters would
be
Is this the best looking Ducati since the 916? Sound off!pretty
useless. See, when straddling such a refined nostalgic distillate, a
tool that seems to come straight out of a time tunnel, a moving monument
to an event that happened some 30 years ago (Ducati's win in the Imola
200 race in '72), all objectiveness gets thrown out of the window and
it's really hard not to be extra sentimental.
Ducati has not invented the nostalgic "retro" formula, of course. In
the last few years we've seen the "new Beetle" and the "new Mini" cars,
and in the two-wheeled world, Triumph is having a ball with their "new
twins" success. Some would add Harley-Davidson or Vespa to the list, but
considering the fact that both never gave up producing their retro
stuff there's no real comeback to talk about here. So in many ways
Ducati's move was kind of expected and upon seeing the first photos of
the "Sport Classic" series from Tokyo's 2003 show I thought to myself:
"Hmm. A bit predictable, ain't it?" It just felt easy to blame Ducati on
jumping on to the comfy nostalgia bandwagon.

As someone who drove or rode the above three examples in their
original guise as well as the new cover versions, I was always left with
the feeling of, "what the heck do these things have to do with the
originals, for God's sake?" For instance, take the new Mini. As a past
owner of three first-series cars ('62, '67 and '69) I know these
road-legal go-karts all too well. They had a start button on the floor,
sliding driver windows, and a steel cable to open the door. To call the
new, fat and luxurious Mini a proper successor to Alec Issignosis's
genial minimalist creation is a bad joke in my book. And the "new
Beetle"! How could anybody dare change from rear wheel drive to front
wheel drive and still call it a Beetle? How could you ever throw the
tail around in the rain with the new model? That's plain
chutzpa!
The new Triumph twins fare only slightly better. Yes, they are much
truer to the originals but where's the vibrating heart and soul of the
old twins? Yes, said vibrations made the things leave a trail of nuts,
bolts and washers in their wake but did the new models have to feel so
damn castrated?

Here
I stand, in front of this new Duc, my first face-to-face encounter and
the thing simply punches you straight in your stomach with its
no-holds-barred directness. Wham! This is no synthetic product concocted
by some smooth operators in a chic marketing office. The Paul Smart
1000 L.E. feels so genuine and so much like the real thing. This is not a
tool for Italio-posers with a white/green/red leather jacket full of
the "right'n cool" sewn-on badges. One look at the position of both
handlebars and footpegs and you understand immediately that you are
about to begin a hard-core S&M session meant only for true
mechano-slaves. I kneel next to the PS 1000 and this thing is
transparent. If you are a bit like Jay Leno -- who claims to love scoots
that you can see
Gabe wishes he looked this good naked.through -- you are going to find plenty to like in the PS 1000's spindly lines and sweet emptiness.
As
someone who works in design, I can only guess that when the boss opens
your office door and yells, "do a replica of a 30 year old bike, and
make it snappy!" it might not sound like the most interesting project to
work on. Where's the room to create something really new? Only in the
PS 1000's case, Signore Terblanche, someone who has already established a
controversial reputation, and that has to leave his mark at all costs,
managed to keep his over-creative tendencies in check and produce shapes
that honor the original. It all goes to show that the guy understood
the spirit of things without falling into the trap of anal retentive
restoration.
For instance, it would have been all too easy to put dual shocks in
the back of the PS1000, just like in them good old days, yet the single
"conventional mount" shock coupled to a double sided swing arm is a
brilliant reinterpretation of the old testament. Life for Ducati would
have been much simpler if they would have used the complete front end of
the SS1000. But in the PS 1000 you'll find a narrowed-down triple clamp
that pulls the fork tubes closer and flattened, one-off brake disc
carriers all in order to achieve that narrow, tall and lean look for the
bike's front end. The end result is convincing. Wherever the eye rests
you can see that Ducati, with an almost fundamentalist zeal, did not cut
any corners or recycle stuff from the parts bin with this one. Need a
last example of their dedication? Look at the tire's tread. No, those
aren't
New triple clamps give the front end a svelte appearance.30-year-old
Pirelli Phantoms (the must have rubber of the seventies), these are
current Pirelli Diablos that at Ducati's special request have been
manufactured with the older tread design but are third millennium stuff
on the inside just for the Sport Classic series.
That's enough with the philosophy. I drag the bike out of the
downtown dealership, swing a leg over and before I even get to squeeze
the clutch lever, I can hear myself cursing compulsively inside my
helmet. I'll spare you the list of exotic locations to which I sent the
mothers of various high-ranking people in Ducati in my cursing. I mean,
you try to reach for the handlebar, bend, then bend some more all the
while thinking, "Where's the Candid Camera? This is a joke, right?" The
bar height is just the beginning; I haven't mentioned yet the fuel
tank's length that simply stretches you inquisition-style over the whole
bike. The combination of these two demonic dimensions means that the
first few minutes of city riding it feels like hell has come down on
earth. So you wanted to know what a real 1970's racer-on-the-road felt
like? You don't need a PhD in bikeology to know that this thing doesn't
mix with city dwelling. No, sir. After a short show-off spin in the city
I park the Duc at home. I have it for the whole week, and it's better
to wait for a proper outing in the fast lanes.
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