The new Tuono V4 Factory is still an out-and-out hypernaked sport-bike, with upgraded suspension and new electronics. (Photos by Larry Chen Photo)
It was a glorious morning in Pasadena, California, and the huge windows overlooking historic Colorado Boulevard bathed Aprilia’s Advanced Design Center office in natural light. Miguel Galluzzi, whom many credit with saving Ducati when he designed the groundbreaking and immensely popular Monster, sat impassively as the room filled with journalists. Galluzzi is also the designer responsible for Aprilia’s RSV4 and Tuono V4 models, which take full advantage of the extremely compact and powerful 1,077cc V4 engine.
Galluzzi explained that the Advanced Design Center allows his team to sit at the heart of the North American market, where proximity to a diverse group of riders and their viewpoints can be fed directly into their design process, fresh and unfiltered. The latest CAD technology and 3D printing allow design ideas inspired by feedback, coupled with cutting-edge advances trickling down from Aprilia’s factory racing team, to be prototyped and tested more efficiently than ever.
The two models – Tuono V4 Factory on left, Tuono V4 on right – are almost identical on paper, but offer different experiences.
The result, we are told, are the most advanced Tuono models yet, a combination of incremental updates designed to improve handling and accommodate a broad spectrum of riders’ needs. The V4 engine is now Euro 5 compliant, and with some tweaking Aprilia has managed to match the outgoing model’s performance. Claimed peak horsepower is 175 at 11,350 rpm and maximum torque is 89 lb-ft at 9,000 rpm.
Influences from the racetrack include a redesigned fairing with integrated winglets and enhanced geometry to improve handling at the limits, as well as a new inverted swingarm designed to improve traction at the rear wheel. The updated seat is wider, longer, and surprisingly comfortable. A new sculpted fuel tank looks gorgeous and maintains the same 4.9-gallon capacity. The Tuono V4 gets an improved 5-inch TFT dash and new switchgear. The headlight array features the triple LED headlight and a DRL configuration common to the rest of the Tuono line, with the addition of cornering lights.
The Tuono V4 is designed to take you further, with all the thrills, added comfort, and even luggage, if required.
Despite being nearly identical on paper, the new Tuono V4 models are quite different in terms of experience. Track rats will be happy to hear that the V4 Factory model is still an out-and-out naked maniac, and is the more expensive, track-focused of the two. The street-focused Tuono V4 represents a new direction, designed to go places carrying more than just a rider and a bare minimum of gear.
The Factory version is now fitted with Öhlins Smart EC 2.0 semi-active suspension and a new Magneti Marelli ECU, controlling fueling and a full suite of electronics. Four times faster than the previous ECU and fully integrated via ride-by-wire throttle and a six-axis IMU, the new setup promises more precise and programable handling for road and track. There are three preset and three track-oriented, user-programmable riding modes, and a host of adjustable rider aids, including traction control, wheelie control, launch control, engine mapping, engine braking, cornering ABS, cruise control, and an up/down quickshifter.
The Tuono V4 is billed as a naked, but a minimalist fairing now incorporates racing inspired winglets.
Siting astride the Factory, it feels much more compact than might be expected from a liter bike. The body position is definitely sporty, but the wide bars and seat feel roomy, even for my 6-foot 2-inch stature. Setting off in Tour mode, within the first few miles the V4 Factory somehow feels familiar. Even on the highway leading us to the twisty mountain roads, it is impossible to completely open the throttle for more than a moment before running out of road, and any true test of the Factory model would require a racetrack.
Throttle response is immediate but initial ham-fistedness is miraculously smoothed out before I can get myself into trouble and I throw the Tuono into the turns with some confidence. Steering is light yet purposeful and exact, the front wheel holding its line despite less-than-perfect surface conditions. A single pop on the downshift raises a smile, and ballistic acceleration on corner exits, accompanied by one of the most fantastic, raspy exhaust notes ever to erupt from a stock can, leaves me grinning like an idiot.
The Tuono V4 Factory is nimble and precise, even on less than perfect roads.
The Factory is fitted with Brembo’s M50 monoblock front calipers, which offer progressive feel and no want of braking capability. With my knees firmly pocketed in the sculpted tank I can keep my weight off the bars, gripping the bike with less effort, and lean into corners with a connected conviction. The V4 Factory’s comfort and ergonomics compare quite well to rivals like the KTM 1290 Super Duke R and Triumph Speed Triple 1200 RS, yet its sportbike credentials remain intact.
The standard Tuono V4 feels similar. Slightly raised handlebars make for a less aggressive stance. Despite lower pillion pegs, the rider’s footpegs are identically placed on both models, providing plenty of clearance but also a potential source of fatigue over long distances. A slightly larger fly screen and upper fairing, a practical pillion seat, grab handles, and optional luggage all make for a hyper-naked sport-tourer, with a heavy emphasis on sport.
Performance is identical to the Factory model, and the standard model will make a capable track-day machine if required. Its taller top gear makes for comfortable, economical highway cruising, as you make your way to the next winding backroad. The standard comes equipped with fully adjustable Sachs suspension, front and rear, but on the road, its handling is fairly close to that of the Factory.
The new Tuono V4 and Tuono V4 Factory are intoxicating motorcycles. They offer astounding power in a compact, lightweight chassis that is exhilarating. And yet, thanks to its suite of adjustable electronics, they are both rewarding and manageable. And one can never forget – or grow tired of – the machine-gun salute connected to your right wrist. While the Factory will keep the Tuono faithful satisfied, the standard model will open up the Tuono range to a host of new riders, who, like me, actually want to go places and bring more than just our wallet and smartphone.
The new Tuono has a broader appeal. Track enthusiasts will love the factory for its suspension and formidable array of programable settings, while sports riders who like to cover miles can now add the Tuono V4 to their list of possibilities.
2021 Tuono V4 / Tuono V4 Factory Specs
Base Price: $15,999 / $19,499 Website:aprilia.com Engine Type: Liquid cooled, transverse 65-degree V-4, DOHC w/ 4 valves per cyl. Displacement: 1,077cc Bore x Stroke: 81.0 x 52.3mm Horsepower: 175 @ 11,000 rpm (claimed, at crank) Torque: 89 lb-ft @ 9,000 rpm (claimed, at crank) Transmission: 6-speed, cable-actuated slip/assist wet clutch Final Drive: X-ring chain Wheelbase: 57.1 in. Rake/Trail: 24.8 degrees/3.9 in. Seat Height: 32.5 in. Wet Weight: 461 lbs. Fuel Capacity: 4.9 gals.
Ceska Zbroiouba was founded in 1918 as an armament manufacturer but didn’t turn to producing motorcycles until 1932 – and it wasn’t until Jaroslav Walter – one of the sons of the founder of Walter G.m.b.H. which built motorcycles from 1903 to 1942 – joined CZ in 1948 that the company began road racing in earnest.
Ceska Zbroiouba (CZ) Type 860 420cc V4
Originally OHV 250 and OHC 350 designs that Jaroslav had designed in the late 1930s were used but a new OHC 350 was soon developed and this continued to be raced successfully up until 1954. The bike seen here is one of only two Type 860 42 0cc V4s known to exist and was photographed in the National Technical Museum in Prague.
The design was begun as a 350cc in 1965 by CZ engineer Frantisek Pudil but the first time the bike actually fired into life was in 1969, the day before the Czech GP! This lack of development meant that the team had to run an existing older model in the race. Further work during ’69-’70 saw the V4 become competitive, although reliability was a problem.
Ceska Zbroiouba (CZ) Type 860 420cc V4
The Type 860 was generally the ‘best of the rest’ behind Agostini on the MV Agusta. The team’s main rider, Bohumil Stasa’s best result was a second to Jarno Saarinen at Brno in 1972. A total of 24 race wins in non GP events were achieved during 1971-1972.
In 1971 a 418cc version was built for the 500cc class. Some Western components such as brakes and tyres were used for the first time. In 1973 a front disc brake and Bosch ignition were fitted before the programme was cancelled later in the year when it was decreed that CZ should concentrate on off road competition with Jawa maintaining a Czech presence in road racing.
Ceska Zbroiouba (CZ) Type 860 420cc V4
The V4’s design was basically sound but suffered from a lack of funds and the advanced materials available to Western (and Japanese) companies. the 420 weighed some 37 kg more than the MV while producing about 20 hp less. Output was 73 hp at 13,600 rpm with a weight of 142 kg, offering a top speed of 260km/h.
Our guest on Episode 18 of the Rider Magazine Insider Podcast is Keith Code, founder and director of California Superbike School, which has trained more than 150,000 students over the past 40 years, with track schools throughout the U.S., the U.K. and Australia. Sixty-five world and national championships have been won by racers trained by Keith Code or his coaches, and champions such as Wayne Rainey and James Toseland have used Code’s methodology. Code has been a regular columnist in Motorcyclist magazine, and he’s the author of several books including “A Twist of the Wrist” and “The Soft Science of Road Racing Motorcycles.” California Superbike School holds training from February through November at tracks throughout the U.S.
This essay was originally published in the September 1992 issue of Rider. (Illustration by Roland Roy)
Sometimes you don’t know where you are, the name of the town or even the state. The place is located by days and miles. It is remembered by highway proximity. And by what kind of terrors gripped you there.
For me, that April night fell on day four. I had already passed through New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Virginia and North Carolina, finally stopping in Tennessee. Yes, that’s as far as I must have gotten. Near U.S. Highway 81. Days Inn.
After a little practice, divesting a motorcycle of all its luggage for the night and carrying it into a motel — three trips, including the tool pack with its 10 tons of lock, spare cables, liter of oil, roll of tape, tire tube, rain gear — doesn’t get any more fun. But such a trip, all alone, is about repetition as much as it’s about welcoming the blessedly new. I’ve always stayed at Days Inns or Knights Inns, make of that symmetry whatever you will, because a woman searching for lodgings after dark by herself is looking only for predictability and the guaranteed anonymity these places make it their business to provide.
After three days of telling myself different, the truth was coming through like green oxide on bogus silver: this wasn’t such a gas. My vacation, my proud declaration, my little adventure, was oppressing me as nothing before. I hadn’t suddenly become loquacious the minute I hit the road, the sort who meets locals at every way station and makes them fast friends over a bowl of chili, or gets invitations that start a new trajectory of discovery about the places passed through. I was still myself only more so, saying not much more than was necessary to purchase gas, coffee, a place to sleep, glossy post cards on which “Wish you were here” was written with no little urgency. Night would bring the same: take-out food eaten at the plasticized fake-wood veneered desk; a long bath to leach the cold from the bones; the local news indistinguishable from any local news anywhere; five hours before sleep to kill in the confines of the double-double-bedded room because continuing after nightfall pushed the stakes up a tad too high; a dose or two of Jack because of that.
I was feeling every one of the 975 miles that separated me from home. The most comfort I’d had was talking to my painfully estranged boyfriend, a mechanic, from a hotel room in Waynesboro, Virginia, the first night. Earlier in the day, stopping at a truck plaza after riding through two hours of the most imposing rainstorm I’d ever encountered, I’d noticed the box at the rear axle spewing the 90-weight oil that lubricated the shaft drive. My boyfriend was properly worried on my behalf and told me to seek out a bike shop in town the next day and have it checked out before I started down the Blue Ridge Parkway. The second deepest conversation I’d had in all the intervening time was at that shop, when four mechanics stopped to inspect my bike.
Now, near U.S. Highway 81, I spread the map out on the rigid bed and scanned it for some promise that I might make it all the way home tomorrow, three days before schedule. There didn’t seem much point in drawing it out longer, to look for more motels just like the last. I’d simply had enough of blissful solitude.
However I looked at it, though, the miles would collapse no further. There were at least 15 hours of holding the throttle open at a steady 70 mph etched in those lines, and it couldn’t be done — not by me at least. The force of the wind at that speed, the temperature, the buzzing, the constant watchfulness, the tension that crept up the neck, took it out of you too fast. You got more tired on a bike than you ever thought possible.
The days had grown so elongated that to look back on them seemed to be to glance into history: had it really been this same afternoon that I had ridden up the side of Mount Mitchell, parked, and ascended the lookout tower in the persistent wind that blows up there? Taking in the small exhibit room empty of visitors except for me, I read the placards that described Mitchell’s quest to prove that his mountain was actually higher than Clingman’s Dome, that it was in fact the highest spot in the East. Scrambling around on the desolate peak with his calibrators, he slipped and fell, perhaps dying instantly, perhaps waiting days for death in the cove of rocks. His was a bitter feud with Clingman, and his victory was posthumous. He lay now under the stones there, unable to give up his purchase on faith. At the height of my own futile journey, I realized that he and I were about the only people up here on this cold day, and he was dead.
I had known from my trip down this bucolic byway the previous October, legendary among motorcyclists, that the next stretch would take me farther into the Smokies, and that the higher I went, the lonelier the way. Then, though, I had simply felt alone, not lonely; I was with a man I was beginning to love. At that stage you welcome the height, the wide vista over uninhabited wild. It feels fine to be there and feel small, together. Now, the peculiar lunar landscape at 6,053 feet, the highest point on the Ridge, was crushing. The wind singing over the rocks had an edge of cruelty. I had climbed into the thinner air with my Guzzi’s beating engine without seeing but a car or two hurrying in the other direction, and the groups of riders I’d hoped to fall in with were still home, waiting for the next month and warmer air.
I wouldn’t let it stop me from going through the motions of marking my trip in the customary manner, and I stopped the Moto Guzzi in front of the sign that declared this the highest point in order to take the obligatory photo of proof. As I did so the lone man who had been standing, looking out over the view from the opposite end of the parking lot, came up behind me and told me I could get into the picture, too.
After handing my camera back he engaged me in a conversation that felt somewhat unreal: he told me his destination, his reason for g here in such an unvacationlike month, all the while glancing at my bike. As often happens, he informed me he used to ride, too, and asked me if the road was good for riding. My enthusiasm was a little forced – it certainly was, but I would have hardly known it from this experience. He said he wasn’t sure if he’d ever make such a trip alone, and he kept complimenting me on my bravery, though I wanted to correct his misapprehension so it could bear the more proper label: foolishness, a bid to prove I would have a grand time without anyone else at all.
But I couldn’t say it to this stranger. It took too much explaining, too much time-intensive shading between black lines. The simple version was more appropriate to this meeting, so I let him have it the way he wanted. He insisted on writing his name and address in my notebook, extracting a promise that if I ever passed through Iowa I’d look him up. I put it in my tank bag with an assurance that I would, while the knowledge that I wouldn’t sunk down hollowly inside.
There was nothing else to do but get on the bike and keep going, to the next mark on my map, the end of the Parkway in Cherokee.
On the prior trip, too, I had insisted on stopping in this gewgaw heaven, darting into stores on a restless search for the perfect ridiculous souvenir, tiring out my boyfriend until he cried uncle. He let me go on rushing from shop to shop while he waited outside by the row of glass windows that housed the Drumming Duck and the rattlesnake and the python and the rabbit clown and the other sad creatures on display for the visitors who paused a moment, pointed to the displays for their ice-cream-sticky children, then hurried on to buy their rubber tomahawks and beaded belts.
On this day I went looking again, having never found the perfection in plastic I sought, but after two stores I wandered back to my bike and glanced at the sky. It was getting late, and I needed to make it through the winding ways of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park with plenty of light. Besides, I had it in mind to visit Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, before nightfall.
Pressing on. I began seeing monumental billboards, on which a horrific, huge butterfly loomed, for the attraction miles before town, a formerly bereft Hamlet that had been Dolly Parton’s hometown before she made it big and it turned into a theme park of cheap restaurants and Western-wear outlets. I turned into the massive parking lot for the amusement park and saw the sign that informs two bucks is the price for parking; besides thinking that was steep for the few minutes I wanted to spend inside, I always resented paying anything to put such a narrow machine into a corner that couldn’t have been used by anything else anyway. Then I found out the admission was $18, and that clinched it. Who spent that much money to ride a ferris wheel alone? Shady characters in old movies did it, but they had ulterior motives. I could only turn around, another wistful goal having come in sight and revealed itself useless in plain view.
The sky was lower as I headed back out of Pigeon Forge, and I wanted to do it fast. I wanted to find somewhere I could be alone where no one would see me being alone. It was time to find the night’s Days Inn.
I hauled in all the garbage — the saddlebags, tank bag, helmet, tool bag. I went back down the hill to the service station’s convenience store and got some Italian rolls that were too white and too soft and a package of string cheese, thus exhausting their variety of real food. I sat in the bathtub and turned on the orange-red heat lamp so that the timer buzzed judiciously for 20 minutes. I unfurled the map and read it with a side of bourbon, so that some time in the future I might be able to fall asleep in the strangely familiar room. I made my peace as best I could with the discovery that I would have one more night like this, but I could do it. Since I had to, I could.
I turned on the news, and just when I was listening intently to some important-sounding item about the municipal airport of the nearby town I can’t recall the name of, I heard the voice.
It spoke in a stage whisper that reached to the fifth tier and back.
It said, “Tomorrow is the last day you will spend on earth.”
A shaking started in my gut, my feet felt very far away. The words of the anchorperson continued to accumulate in the room like cotton batting being stuffed into a mattress. Behind my eyes a scene was now projected, and I saw a white car of some general make coming at me and my white bike — a horror all dressed in the tones of clouds — but there the movie stopped, although I knew its end.
The utter precipitousness and incongruity of this final pronouncement made me unable to avoid its truth. I had apparently had one of those supermarket-tabloid premonitions: WOMAN FORESEES OWN DEATH.
It seemed just as certain that I couldn’t stay in a Tennessee motel in order to stave off death; the irony of that, I presume, is completely obvious. I reached for the glass of Jack Daniel’s and saw my hand quivering in midair. I spoke to myself sharply: Don’t be ridiculous! It kept on shaking.
It was intolerable, more than merely nettlesome, to be here alone now, and I caught sight of the decorator-almond telephone with its little red siren light sticking off the top. Besides the fact that it was well past midnight, how could I explain to anyone I could rouse from sleep what I’d just experienced? I was beginning to think that most of my friends thought I lived on the border of sanity anyway.
I lay back on the bed with a groan. Say, eight hours isn’t too long to spend lying here in the leaden grip of an absurd fear, until it’s light and you can go out and bravely prove the folly of your fantasies, shaking all the way.
If I couldn’t talk to anyone real, I figured I could make someone up and talk to him on paper; God knows I’ve got enough characters in my brain that one of them must be up and willing at this hour.
In the desk drawer were three sheets of motel stationery. Not enough, but a start. I took them back to the bed and started talking. We discussed why at this particular time I would be feeling afraid, why fear was often my co-pilot on my motorcycle. From the moment I’d bought my first bike three years before, I’d managed to pin most of my previously free-floating anxieties on some aspect of machinery. And wasn’t that why, later, I’d realized I wanted one in the first place, to wage war on this fear in the concrete?
At the bottom of the second page, the TV well into a rerun of “All in the Family,” the writing trailed off. I slipped into sleep and dreamt of nothing.
II
There is a beginning to this story, of course, far before the beginning. I was boarding at a prep school in Ohio, the town — a miniature replica of a New England hamlet replete with town green, white steeples, stone wall around a campus of gentle slopes and neatly tended playing fields — was midway between Akron, where I am from, and Cleveland. Although I had opted to attend (pleasing my father, who had also gone there) and escape public school for which I was decidedly not cut out, by my third year I was beginning to feel I had chosen another type of prison instead. I was blissfully happy up in the art room, a sun-filled kingdom ruled by the brilliantly eccentric Mr. Moos, but I was not allowed to spend all my time there as I would have wished. I had to do sports (for which I was equally woefully miscast), science, woodshop (which I flunked, for “refusing” to keep my plane sharpened), and, most loathesome of all, math.
No one has ever erred in calling me stubborn. I have a place, like the end of spring, beyond which I can stretch not a millimeter further. I hit that wall one achingly green spring day, on which I was not uncoincidentally expected in math class at 8:30 a.m. — stupefyingly early, to add injury to insult. I looked at the clock when I opened my eyes, saw it was 8:20 and pulled off the covers. I put on my jeans, forbidden in class, a T-shirt, and put my money and keys in my backpack. I wheeled my Raleigh 10-speed out the door, carried my prize possession bought with hard-won summer babysitting funds down the stairs and outdoors. And I rode past the streams of students heading up the brick walks toward school.
The trip took a half hour in the car. I was thankful in more ways than one that the direction was reversed this time. Approaching the quaint crossroads of Peninsula, a half-mile hill shot down into the town. I coasted, let the bike pick up speed. The wheels were flashing now in the sunlight. I couldn’t go fast enough; I shifted into tenth gear and pedalled as hard as I could, pumping, pumping. The wind dried my teeth clean so my lips stuck to them — that was because I smiled.
When I turned up the drive to my house my mother looked up from her gardening. She hardly seemed surprised to see me. Without her asking, I told her that I simply couldn’t take it anymore. She nodded, and we had some lunch. I think she must have called my father at the office, because when he came home he didn’t seem too stunned either. I was relieved, near elated. I could stay — we would work out the credits and whatnot later. We had the usual nice dinner my mother prepared. Then my parents rose from the table and announced it was time to get going.
Now it was my turn not to be surprised. I had achieved at least that much maturity to understand a certain version of reality.
The next day I was summoned into Sherwin Kibbe’s office. The school’s dean was a dead ringer for Norman Mailer, and he looked frighteningly out from under overhanging silver eyebrows and inquired just what I thought I had been doing. I was several pages into my explanation, which combined a bit of Jefferson with a smattering of Kerouac, when he cut me short. “Well, I think you just wanted to take a ride on a nice day.”
My deeply felt protests met with an offer of demerits and probation. Tears of misunderstood frustration coursed down my cheeks after I shut the door. My issues were high – how could he have leveled me with such an insignificant charge? It was contemptuous.
Sixteen years later and I still ask myself the same question. My answer is still stubborn. So why shouldn’t I run away because it’s a nice day? There is never a better reason.
III
I’d made it as far as the Delaware Water Gap in one day. I’d been riding for 13 hours, and it was now 1 a.m. I was strung out from the numbing consistency of the highways, the same speed, the light, persistent rain that shrouded everything in mist, just like my brain felt. If I could just stay awake and bear down hard enough, I could be home in another two hours.
It was just me and the long-haul trucks now, and nothing broke the dark outside my headlight beam. I didn’t know if I’d been riding for one day or 10. Time had no meaning, except that it was what had exhausted me. I probably could have gone on. Suddenly, though, a thought came into my head, a small distillation of all the biking horror stories I’d ever heard: I was outrunning my headlight’s visibility, and if there were a railroad tie across the lane, I wouldn’t see it till it was too late. I was awake enough to appreciate what that meant.
In a few miles I saw the green Holiday Inn sign rise above the gloom of trees. In the office the woman behind the desk gave me a wide-eyed look as I clomped in in my rainsuit. No, no rooms, all full; there was another place 20 miles away — she’d call. No room in that inn, either, she informed me on putting down the phone. I felt at that moment I was going to collapse.
Actually, she considered, there was one, but the air conditioning had gone out in it. If I didn’t mind….
No, I didn’t. A couple of hay bales would have sufficed. I fell asleep in moments in the sickly, still air.
It was still raining in the morning, and I jerked on the same still-wet clothes and covered them up with the rubber-lined suit. I got an early start.
Two hours later I made the last turn onto my street, and for the first time was forced to slow to a near halt. It had stopped raining. The sun was calling up the hot moisture from the pavement to choke the air. Halfway down the block an earth-mover and police barricades barred the way. Workmen were sweating in their undershirts. I felt the heat rise up from the Guzzi’s cylinders and envelop me. I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, jeans, leather jacket with winter lining, rainsuit on top of that; my hands were encased in rubber gloves with a thick synthetic liner, and the vents on my helmet were closed against the early morning chill that was an incredible memory now.
The men tried to wave me to a stop. Instead I let out the clutch and came toward them, provoking wilder gesticulations. At the last moment, I jumped the curb onto the sidewalk to pull up in front of my garage. Only then did I apply the brake.
I switched off the key, then pulled off my helmet and sat for a second, steam rising around my neck. The bike let out its little clicks and coos, already cooling in the heat.
This is how 2,000 miles ends. I’d made bigger trips, but not alone. There was a certain purity to this one, a perfect insularity. It was as though I had done all that distance without leaving a mark on any atom in the universe. I had slipped quickly and quietly by, and the wind in my wake only a vague memory of disturbance in the grass by the edge of the road. Maybe we were white dream-cars ourselves. Yet now I was home, and that’s all that mattered.
Electric Motorcycles and the future of motorcycling An informed discussion with three view-points
With the EU moving towards a mandate for the cessation on sales of petrol powered cars and motorcycles by 2035 there is little doubt that Australia will follow a similar course of action. Thus we thought it a good time for Trev to air his views on the current state of play and then invite two smart guys that are both heavily invested in, and very knowledgeable of the challenges and advantages that electric motorcycles have the potential to bring. Both have built and designed their own electric motorcycles and are Australian EV pioneers and can add much to the discussion.
Trev
“There is no doubt that unless truly monumental steps forward are made in relation to battery technology, touring Australia by motorcycle will become virtually impossible when legislation eventually ends the days of the internal combustion engine.
“Australia is the sixth largest country in the world and the world’s largest island with a land mass of 7.7 million square kilometres which equates to five per cent of the global land mass, yet has a population that is less than cities such as Tokyo, Delhi or Shanghai. Once away from the major cities, where 67 per cent of the Australian population live, the interior is one of the most sparsely populated areas on the globe. We are a long way from where these new emissions legislation rules are being made and with our wide open spaces these restrictions will affect us more greatly than most places on the planet.
“Currently you can cross Australia on the southern routes without having to go more than 200 km between fuel stops. You can ride most of the way up the eastern and western seaboards on even shorter ranges until you get north of the Tropic of Capricorn, and even then there are only a couple of stretches where ranges in excess of 250 kilometres are required. And of course with fuel it is a simple case of splash and dash and you are generally back up and running in under ten minutes. No planning required. I could set off tomorrow on virtually any conventional motorcycle and repeat my 16,000 kilometre in 15 day lap of Australia without a worry in the world and nothing but a credit card in my pocket. Notwithstanding the individual fiefdoms that Australia has now become with closed state borders of course, don’t get me started on that score!
Touring the remote parts of Australia is not going to be viable on an electric motorcycle any time soon
“On current technology and infrastructure if you can find a power-point in the bush, you might be twiddling your thumbs for ten hours or more in order to obtain a full charge from empty. Even a Perth to Melbourne run, a relatively short 3500 kilometre distance that is easily ridden in three days if not meticulously planned while riding something akin to a $50,000 Harley-Davidson LiveWire or similar EV motorcycle, would likely take longer than my 16,000 kilometre lap of the country. And that journey would be the antithesis to what my type of motorcycle touring is. Touring on two wheels for me is best enjoyed with the minimum planning possible and no real schedule to stick to. Otherwise it just feels like work and tedium. Motorcycles are about freedom and fun, not schedules. And motorcycle touring is not about waiting around for half your trip waiting for your motorcycle to charge. On current EV technology you would spend more of the trip waiting for your motorcycle to charge than you would spend riding…
The LiveWire has its drawbacks as Wayne recently found in his review. That said, I applaud H-D for investing in to this future and I think the first generation LiveWire might eventually become a sought after collectible.
“Modern combustion engined motorcycles achieve their best economy on the open highway, these days generally sipping around five-litres of juice per 100 kilometres. Conversely, open road touring is actually the worst case scenario in regards to range for battery powered motorcycles as there are no braking cycles to help recharge the batteries and the bikes are under a constant throttle load. Thus at the moment, and for the foreseeable future, battery powered vehicles are by far more practical in the urban environment than they are in rural or even outer urban areas. The current options when it comes to EV motorcycles rarely achieve ranges exceeding 120 kilometres during highway running at the national speed limit.
“Does this mean that for the foreseeable future the only real practical battery powered motorcycles will be scooters used in the city?
“Right now, to my mind, this is where the battery tech is getting good enough to be a truly viable practical alternative to a petrol powered two-wheeler.But there is also a significant price penalty to pay to go EV.
“Suzuki’s Address 110 sells for $3790 Ride Away, nudges 100 km/h and sips only two-litres per 100 kilometres. Thus it has a range approaching 250 kilometres from its 5.2-lite fuel tank, but let’s go worst case scenario and say the range is 200 kilometres.
Super Soco CPx
“One of the newest EV scooters on the market that is just about to launch in Australia is the Super Soco CPx.It has a range of up to 75 kilometres when a 75 kg rider averages 45 km/h, but in reality its true range is more like 60 kilometres. The price tag is more than twice that of the Suzuki but it’s fair to assume that the EV perhaps accelerates quicker, however its 90 km/h top speed is actually slower than the little Suzuki.Charge time is about 3.5 hours and while an extra battery can be added to the PCx for $2300 that doubles the range to over 120 kilometres, it also adds a couple of hours to that charge time.For less than the price of Super Soco PCx you could have a wonderful XMAX 300 Yamaha. A much larger, roomier and more comfortable scooter that will cruise comfortably at 110 km/h and also offer overtaking power good enough to crack 150 km/h while sipping a few litres per 100 kilometres.
“So essentially you currently pay double for the EV option if comparing models of similar performance.That also rings true in the world of full-size motorcycles with Harley’s new V-Twin Sportster 1250 S to retail for just over 25k, half the price of the EV LiveWire.
“There is no doubt that EV is coming but early adopters certainly pay a hefty price premium for the benefits, perceived or otherwise, of going without petrol.
“I would love to get my hands on BMW’s coming electric CE 04 scooter with its impressive power (42 hp) and torque (62 Nm), creature comforts and avant-garde looks but when it arrives early next year it will wear a price tag over 20k.Even this top of the range EV still only promises a range of 130 kilometres. Its top speed will be limited to 120 km/h but BMW are claiming an impressive 2.6-seconds for the 0-50 km/h traffic light dash which should make it a convenient weapon around town. Charging time from empty is over four hours but an optional, and no doubt expensive, quick-charging set-up can be purchased that reduces charge time significantly, taking the CE 04 from flat to full in well under two hours, and facilitating charge from 20 to 80 per cent full in only 45 minutes. That’s getting a lot more practical, and the fact that city dwellers will also be able to use the same existing EV charge points as the BMW electric cars will add further amenity. But, it’s still over 20-grand for a scooter. You can grab a GS for not much more, or an Africa Twin for even less…
I love the promise that the BMW CE 04 offers but for 20k you are getting into GS or Africa Twin money…
“Time will change this cost-benefit analysis as technology improves, or petrol starts multiplying in price, but right now EV motorcycles and scooters just don’t add up when it comes to cost, convenience or performance. They are a very niche product within an already niche market that is motorcycling in this country.
Honda Mobile Power Packs can be simply removed and replaced with already charged units
“Hot swappable battery technology, the likes of which some brands are already working together on, would be a real breakthrough in regards to the viability of electric motorcycles becoming truly practical in the short term. Being able to drop into a charge point and simply pull a battery out and replace with one already fully charged to get back on your way. This would enable refuel times comparable to petrol powered motorcycles.
“Essentially this could also help reduce the cost of entry as manufacturers could sell their electric scooters or motorcycles, then the buyer simply take up a battery lease program where they have constant access to batteries but without the up-front capital cost of purchasing their own battery. This option is starting to build steam and is referred to as ‘Battery as a Service’. Kymco have already rolled this out in Taiwan where they already have over 2000 swap stations with their system called ‘Ionex’.
Removeable battery packs will add great versatility to both personal consumers and fleet buyers
“From my scribblings here you would think I am against change, I am not. I look forward to something like the CE 04 becoming as affordable as an XMAX 300.I look forward to the improvements in battery technology that are coming which will really shake things up. I look forward to agile light-weight enduro, motocross and trials bikes that are whisper-quiet and offer comparable performance to that available from the current petrol powered options.
“That said, I think the chances of being able to tour Australia on an EV motorcycle without meticulous planning and constant range anxiety might not even happen within my life-time. But who knows, I have been running MCNews.com.au now for over 20 years, and may revisit this piece in a Throwback Thursday come 2040, or even earlier, and announce that I was wrong…
“I do take significant umbrage though at authorities and agencies enforcing this change and shoving it down my throat before it becomes truly affordable and viable in the real world. But this is where we will be as manufacturers respond to government pressures and stop making new internal combustion engine powered vehicles. Euro6 will essentially kill new petrol powered vehicles of all types stone dead.
Replaceable hot, swap and go battery packs that are able to be used across many brands are likely to prove the way forward when it comes to EV powered urban mobility solutions
“We also have groups lobbying government to not only waive stamp duty, import duties and luxury car taxes for electric vehicles, but also force property developers to install EV charging points in their parking bays and have taxpayers stump the bill to install charging points in public car parks. Thus EV early adopters effectively are seeking everyone to underwrite their eco warrior sanctimonious self gratification exercise, then they want the power for free too! Power that was probably made by burning coal in the first place anyway!
“As we approach the year 2030 the shift away from internal combustion engines will increasingly gather steam (did you tell how much I love steam power LOL) as we approach that real tipping point for the transition away from fossil fuel powered transportation. This month UK authorities announced a ban on the sale of new petrol powered motorcycles from 2035 and various other announcements have been, and will be made around the world that will sign the death warrant on motorcycling as we know it. But then we do have a new era of motorcycling to look forward to and I do that with an open, but realistic mind.
“Racing authorities are also heavily invested in preparing for change. We of course have MotoE already acting as a support class at selected rounds of the MotoGP World Championship and the FIM recently announced the creation of a new all-electric off-road championship. People are already joking that it will make for some good 15 minute races as even in racing EV ranges forces organisers to race distances that are a fraction of what petrol powered motorcycles race.
“Under changes that are actually coming into play now you will no longer have the ability to clear fault codes from your motorcycle, only an official dealer will have the power to clear fault codes. Want to dyno or tune your machine outside stock parameters? They are putting a stop to that now also. I understand that things are going to change, but we do need our own politicians to not blindly follow rules enforced by geographically small countries in their quest to be woke.
Trev’s 2017 Husqvarna TE250 – Pretty much two-stroke perfection right there
“I live on 100 acres and will do everything within my power to still be enjoying the visceral and emotional connection to motorcycle history that my 250 two-stroke Husky punches into my aural and olfactory senses even after the government tells me not to.I also have a supercharged V8 Ford that I might need to stockpile juice for in preparation for the days when the scenes presented in the first Mad Max movie become reality.
“Or if that ends up being too difficult, maybe I will have to settle for an old-school blown or quad-Weber fed push-rod V8 on an engine stand to start up and pay homage to as an object of worship over beers from time to time up the shed. Actually why wait, that sounds an awesome plan to put into action right now! Hold my beer!
Excuse me, I am having a moment…
“Of course we could have a huge breakthrough in biofuel or synthetic fuel technology that extends the life of internal combustion engines. As for the ecological argument I don’t think motorcycles burning fuel make much impact in the grand scheme of things. Of course making the power to charge EV vehicles largely comes from coal fired power stations anyway.. Speaking of which, China is still building those coal fired power stations at an ever increasing rate and are responsible for almost 30 per cent of global emissions. Preventing people breeding and polluting the planet with more humans is probably the biggest positive impact we can have in regards to the health of the planet but the self-righteous moralising greenies don’t talk too much about that…”
Right of reply
Now as Trev is obviously not all Greta Thunberg enlightened and stuff, we thought we might seek some opinions from a couple of people in the know, a couple of fellas that have their fingers in the currents of this EV stuff. And first cab off that electrified rank is Dennis Savic.
Dennis Savic
Dennis Savic is a homegrown visionary that has had the balls to design, manufacture and now market his own brand of electric motorcycles.
Like me, Dennis hails from Perth, but where I first headed east to join the Defence Force at the young age of 16 as that was the only way to earn an adult wage at such a young age that would enable me to spend all of said wage on fast motorcycles and cars. Dennis instead studied mechanical engineering and then gained an M.B.A. before assembling a team of young engineers to bring to reality his dream of producing his own motorcycles.
Dennis with an early prototype
Obviously we both share a passion for motorcycles but come from very different backgrounds and lived experiences. At 29, Dennis is also 20 years younger than me but funnily enough, despite his life being invested in the production of EV motorcycles, he also has some reservations as to their real-world capabilities and current limitations. God I love using the word ‘current’ as much as possible when talking EV motorcycles…
Over to you, Dennis
“Trevor, thank you for including us in the conversation. Despite the two wheeled EV industry and this business consuming 90 per cent of my waking life, I should probably preface my comments by admitting I’m also a petrol head. My favourite cars include the ’69 Mustang Fastback, and my dream car is the Mercedes 300SL. My favourite bikes include the Triumph Bonneville Bobber and the Indian FTR, and a tonne of custom builds. I still love working on petrol vehicles for fun, so I guess I’m sharing that I empathise with common EV challenges and understand range anxiety well. Now, there are two primary issues that I believe we’re talking about: the first is range capabilities, and the second is pricing. While they are related, they can – and should – be considered separately.
Range Capabilities
“I agree with you that touring isn’t for electric motorcycles, and won’t be for a long time. Unfortunately, it all comes down to dollars and cents. And this is as true for the majority of customers as it is for any business. I’ll talk about EV pricing in a moment, but before I do I think it’s important for riders to actually take inventory of how often they go for cross-country rides and how often they go for long rides with their mates on weekends.
“The answer to the latter is probably far more often than touring the country. So what’s the average range of a weekend ride – 400km? 200km? Whatever the case, if someone does this kind of ride more than once or twice a year, they would need to consider having a second petrol bike to go and do hill runs. This could be rented or owned, but either way, it makes the rare weekend ride a very expensive hobby.
“I don’t know what proportion of the riding population never rides more than 200 km on a single ride, but I would argue that it is large enough for us to have enough of a business case to supply the Australian market. Business cases are assessed with rudimentary maths. How many can one sell, at what price, and what is the cost to make, distribute, and operate the business? Which brings me to the pricing challenges EVs face.
Savic Motorcycles
Pricing
“Most EVs are highly priced. Governments can ban petrol vehicles to try and force the shift, but this doesn’t flick a switch and make the supply chain cheaper. What makes the supply chain cheaper is volume manufacturing, and that’s going to take time. It’s a chicken and egg scenario. We need volume to decrease costs, but we also need sales to increase volume, and people aren’t buying because, like you say, EVs are expensive, which comes back to the supply chain. Government bans in Europe will help increase the volume/demand part of the equation, which is great – a fun problem to solve.
“With respect to Savic Motorcycles’ advertised prices, time and again, investors and potential investors have been telling me that our $23,900 price point for the Savic Alpha is too low. I argue that it isn’t. Our first bike, the C-Series Alpha, sits in the same price bracket as other new premium ICE motorcycles. My mission was always to set the price point to be competitive with existing ICE motorcycles, and then work our asses off to develop and implement our business case. When we figured we could, we got started and we haven’t slowed down since. With the cost of battery cells continuously dropping, our margin targets have slowly grown and simultaneously enabled us to offer our customers more capacity.
Today’s EV Motorcycle Customers
“I cannot speak for the LiveWire riders in Australia, but I think most people will agree the $50k price tag is pretty hefty. What I can say is that we at Savic Motorcycle have sold out our first production run without a single test ride. Whether that’s due to our design, price, or our being Australian is hard to say – to be fair, it’s probably a mix of all three.
“I have personally spoken to most of our first customers because we’re an early-stage business. All of them understand the charging limitations, and almost all put their orders in with the intent of charging at home overnight. This indicates that they either have a second bike, or don’t do hill rides. But they want a sexy bike (if I say so myself) to get around town on – and to do the occasional longer ride.
“A couple of our customers are lifelong Harley riders. This absolutely shocked me. Why did they place an order for one of our bikes? The truth is, they loved the design above all else. The fact that it was electric and reasonably priced was just a bonus.
Savic Alpha
“Everything is in flux at the moment. Market segments, customer profiles, products. No one knows what is going to happen in 20 years. People can just speculate. A company like ours has an advantage because we’re small and nimble, and can pivot our product strategy at the drop of a hat without huge negative repercussions with excess inventory, or thousands of engineering hours spent in product development.
Savic Motorcycles
“So will eMotorcycle ranges change much in the next five years? Unlikely if you still want to have a bike that retails at some astronomical price. Will the price come down dramatically over the next five years? I don’t think the price will come down too much, but you will see many more entrants in the market due to the cost of manufacturing dropping. Will the big OEMs come to play soon? Maybe – but they’ll have to massively up their game if they want to produce a decent bike!
“I also know Chris Jones well and it’s been a long time since we’ve spoken. “Hi Chris!!”
Chris Jones
The next fella I thought of charging with a reply was my old mate Chris Jones. Another Western Australian!
Chris is a mad scientist that first specialised in plant biochemistry but then diversified into working with battery technology and electric motorcycles.
In fact, Chris, with the help of a couple of friends made his own electric motorcycle that his team raced in the eFXC Championship that first ran as a support class alongside Terry O’Neill’s Formula Xtreme Road Racing Championships in 2014.
Chris with Voltron at Queensland Raceway iin 2016
The next year Chris formed a company with Mike O’Hanlon called ‘Voltron Motorcycles Pty Ltd’ with the aim of developing a motorcycle and battery system that will eventually enable them to manufacture electric superbikes.The small matter of having to earn a living and pay bills has slowed their progress but the dream remains alive.
Chris has also been the National Secretary of the Australian Electric Vehicle Association for the past five years and was instrumental in the design, build and installation of The RAC Electric Highway that links Perth to the south-west coastal town of Augusta via a network of publicly available charging stations.
Chris (third from left) was a driving force behind the EV fast charging stations now installed in the south-west of the country in partnership with the RAC
Chris is also currently working with the WA Government with the aim of having DC fast-charging stations installed around the state.Knowing their Premier maybe he will also get Chris to put an electric fence around Western Australia to keep the plague-ridden eastern stater types out!
Clearly Chris is heavily invested in EV technology and is well and truly plugged into the scene and thus I thought his views on the subject might be interesting to hear.
Take it away Doctor Jones!
“Not long after man walked out of the jungle, he developed an unhealthy obsession with burning stuff. Unsatisfied with burning half the vegetation on planet Earth, he discovered an even more energy dense fuel beneath his feet. Coal and oil allowed him to burn stuff with so much heat, for so long, he could literally throw 80 per cent of the energy away and still push a machine down the road. Mankind has since built almost 4 billion such machines, and 1.4 billion are in active service today. Roughly 400 million of these are motorcycles. Evolution baby!
“But this 250-year bonfire has resulted in two very serious problems. One, the poisonous smoke from these internal combustion machines is literally killing us. Acute respiratory disease caused by automobile pollution kills at least 8.7 million people every year worldwide. Air quality is so poor in many Asian cities the recommendation is to stay indoors and wear a mask. The other problem – arguably the more chronic one – is that the trillions of tons of carbon dioxide released after burning all these fossil fuels has been trapping heat in our atmosphere; raising the temperature by about 1.2°C already. If nothing changes, we’re set to pass 5°C by 2050. We are already bearing witness to the impacts – floods, heatwaves, sea level rise, devastating bushfires and of course, the inevitable extermination of large swaths of living beings.
“So if you’re wondering why administrations around the world are keen to halt the production of internal combustion engines, by force if they must, it might be because they have a duty of care to prevent pain and suffering of their citizens. People rightly expect their leaders to respond to such global existential challenges, even if they are of our own stupid doing. But these same administrations are also acutely aware of how hopelessly dependent we are on the automobile. Food, medicines, building materials, textiles and telecommunications; you name it – motorized and wheeled transport makes it happen. Fortunately, we have an alternative technology to the internal combustion engine, and given our collective reluctance to assume responsibility for our profligate ways, the electric vehicle is arguably the least-worst option to replace it.
“In looking at the two most pressing problems – air pollution and global warming, electric vehicles are an obvious solution to the former, and as the electricity grid continues to get cleaner, also a useful tool in addressing the latter. So which vehicle is most commonly seen battling the streets of our most congested cities? The humble motorcycle. If ever there was a prime candidate for electrification, this is it.
“The 2035 phase-out is actually quite conservative – we’ll hit that target well beforehand. 2035 is a long way off, given the huge advanced we’ve already seen in EVs in the last decade. The vehicles will both get better and cheaper, and motorcycles will be in that graduating class. The ultimate commuter would be an electric motorcycle with about 40 kW of peak power and about 15 kWh worth of battery. This would give it over 150 km of quiet, emission-free city range. Longer rides will necessitate a bigger battery, and more regular DC fast chargers for rapid refills along the way.
“So when can we expect to see an electric motorcycle capable of steering me from Perth to Phillip Island in under 4 days? Well, probably when two things happen: Firstly, when DC fast chargers can be found at every roadhouse across the Nullarbor, and secondly, when batteries allow over 20 kWh to be conveniently stored on the bike. On the first point, DC chargers are being rolled out around the country, and the east-west route will certainly be completed well before 2024 if I have any say in it. The second point is actually a matter of budget more than technology – sufficiently energy dense batteries already permit a 230 kg bike to house a 100 kg battery, capable of 200 km at highway speeds. The issue is mostly cost and right now, a $50,000 bike capable of the same metrics as a $12,000 ICE bike is a hard sell.
Thyron Van Vuuren did get down to some good times on the Voltron bike made by Chris, but in regards to EV motorcycles even the races have to be short due to range issues – Image Tony Castley
“Cost is a funny thing when discussing motorcycles, as we’ve all spent way more than we ought to on bikes that deliver immense joy. Still, we harbor no regrets. Take Honda’s 2021 CBR1000RR-R SP machine; it’s the ultimate track weapon with 214 hp and checking in at 201 kg. At a mere $50,000, it’s not exactly cheap. But other than 70 years of Honda engineering prowess, our home-built electric race bike, Voltron Evo stacks up surprisingly well. 214 kg, 230 hp and a similar build budget, a competitive lap time wasn’t that far off. It was worth every cent in that regard…
“However right now, our collective desire to own machines capable of roadtrips our grandparents could never dream of is taking its toll on the planet we call home. We owe it to the next generation to stop burning coal and oil. It’s that simple. Extinguishing the epic, self-inflicted house fire we started 200 years ago really ought to take precedence over our desire to circumnavigate the country in under a fortnight. We need fewer vehicles, and all of them should be electric. Electric motorcycles and scooters are the perfect solution for urban travel, while longer range machines are on their way.”
Well there you have it, three opinions with three different viewpoints. Feel free to add your considered opinion using the comments section below. Or if you have a well detailed piece that will further enlighten our readers feel free to get in touch with us with a view to consideration for publication.
An inside look at the latest builds from Workhorse Speed Shop.
Brice Hennebert, owner of Workhorse Speed Shop, in Belgium, has been busy during lockdown. After creating Appaloosa V1.0 in 2019 for the Sultans of Sprint then re-working the Indian Scout build into Appaloosa V2.0 for the Baikal Mile Ice Festival, Brice has focussed his attention on building two special dream bikes based on the Indian FTR 1200.
The first build, Black Swan, is a 90’s sports bike concept utilizing the latest parts and materials to make it extremely sporty. The build extensively uses carbon fibre to minimize weight, Ohlins suspension, Beringer brakes, and modern additions such as a quickshifter. The second build, FTR AMA, is based on the 80s era AMA SBK race bikes and Rally cars, inspiring an angular design and will be finished in the classic Martini Racing livery.
Adjustable Öhlins suspension and Beringer brakes are some of the premium parts making up the builds.
Black Swan and FTR AMA Build – Q&A with Brice Hennebert
We caught up with Brice to get an insight into his latest projects, both of which are shaping up to be remarkably interesting, but quite different builds – just as we have come to expect from Workhorse.
It’s been a long time since you came back from Russia after taking Appaloosa V2.0 to the Baikal Mile Ice Speed Festival – that must feel like a dream now, are the memories still strong?
Yes, the memories are really strong. With the lockdown, it was some time after coming back from Russia that I saw many of my friends. Every time I reconnect with a friend they always ask about the trip. So, I get to relive the memories regularly and so they are still strongly alive.
And when Appaloosa finally got back to Belgium after the Russian borders reopened, unpacking the bike and reassembling it meant I got to relive the memories all over again.
Obviously, lockdown has changed the way we all work, but you have still been busy with brand-new builds based on the FTR. What are the concepts behind each project?
The concept for the first build, Black Swan, came a few years ago when I was racing at Wheels & Waves against the Miracle Mike Scout built by The Young Guns. During that time, I had the vision to build a sports bike for road use. But, really sporty, built like a GP bike. It’s deeply inspired by 90’s sports bikes, all made from carbon fibre. That’s what happens when I have total freedom from the commissioners of a project. And I’m even thinking about doing a small series of this bike for sale. It’s pretty unique!
Black Swan Build: building out the clay model.
The second FTR project is based on the 80s era AMA SBK race bikes and Rally cars. Black Swan and the FTR AMA project are for two brothers. The brother that commissioned Black Swan asked me to design a second build for his brother. Something colourful but sharp like a war tank. The only restriction was that it should have a Martini Racing livery.
After a little research and brainstorming, the main influence became the Lancia Delta HF. I’ve mixed this with a bit of the early Bol d’Or race bikes and some muscle bike flavour keeping an upright riding position, close to the original FTR which works so well.
With the Appaloosa v1.0 and v2.0 builds, you had some great partners providing advice, components, fabrication, and tuning skills. Who has stepped up for these FTR builds?
All of them and even more. I went to the Akrapovič factory a few days after the Baikal Mile to work on the Black Swan exhaust. I crossed the border to go home for a few hours and they decided to close the border. That was tight.
Öhlins have shipped me a full set of custom components for Black Swan, quite impressive I have to say. Beringer Brakes is also in the game on both bikes with their new 4+ system. Super light, super nice.
I’m also working with Vinco Racing in Holland, Tim is taking care of all the CNC parts around both bikes. And there’s many of them.
My buddy Robert Colyns from 13.8 Composite is taking care of the carbon fibre fabrication.
On Black Swan, we will be fitting Rotobox carbon fibre wheels, they really are pieces of art! Liteblox Germany have made a bespoke carbon fibre battery for the bike, Cerakote Nl did all the black ceramic treatment. Jeroen from Silver Machine the seat works. Christophe from Forame design did all the 3D modelling from the Clay scan.
Black Swan Build: Clay model ready for CAD scan.
The FTR AMA wheel set is a total eye catcher. I collaborated with Fabio from JoNich Wheels in Italy. The design is based on his Rush wheels but without carbon flanges. They are machined from billet aluminium. And the design made me think about the turbo fans wheels used on the racing Lancia, so that was a perfect choice. They are completed by a Dunlop GP tyre set with this mad 200 section rear tyre.
So, as you can see, I’m not alone on this bike.
We can’t reveal too much at this stage, but from the pictures from the builds so far, designing the bodywork seems to be a fairly intensive process. Can you walk us through the steps, from visualisation and sketches through to a finished piece of the bodywork?
Yes, it’s quite a long journey, here’s roughly the stages for Black Swan:
First, preliminary sketches and a compilation of reference pictures for the details. At this stage I’m drawing the main lines of the bike, the mood.
Then I sent everything to Benny at Axesent in Japan to make proper renders in several versions, with realistic lighting and some livery ideas.
When I was happy at this point, I started 3D modelling. I modelled the bike at full scale in clay directly on the FTR, but only on one side of the bike. This step took about 6 weeks, between the clay structure and perfecting the final shape.
Then I scanned the bike in 3D to start the CAD modelling stage. The scan was used as a starting point to be sure of the proportions, but there was always freedom for new ideas. In the meantime, I worked on the symmetry, details, articulated parts, and assembly systems between the different elements. All told, another 2 months of work.
The next step went to 13.8 Composites. Firstly, they 3D printed all the bodywork from the CAD models. These prints were used as a master for moulding and creating the die that the carbon fibre was laid into.
Once done, adjustments were made between all the parts to be sure that it all fit together and looked perfect.
With the FTR AMA build, rather than start with the clay, here I used direct CAD design based on a 3D scan of the FTR chassis. Then all the body parts were 3D printed and reinforced with carbon fibre.
FTR AMA Build: Modified tail to accommodate twin shocks.
Is this a process that you have used before? You seem really keen, on every project, to try something new and expand your skill set.
This was something totally new to me, at least at this scale. I have done clay shaping before, but not on something so complex.
FTR AMA Build: “The wheel set is a total eye catcher.”
The bodywork is bound to be the main focal point when people first see the bikes, but what else can you reveal about the builds at this stage?
The body of Black Swan is just 1.8 kg for the entire bike. I’ve also decided to fit a few accessories such as a quick shifter and Power Commander. The idea is to initially test the bike with the standard performance in the racing configuration (position, bodywork etc.) 123 hp is enough for road use today in Europe. And if the owner of the bike needs more power then we will go into the engine.
On the FTR AMA, there are two aluminum fuel cells to reach a total capacity of 3.7 gallons with one of the tanks under the seat. Plus, the intake has been redesigned and 3D printed to work with DNA performance air filters. On the chassis side, the tail section has been modified to fit a twin shocks system powered by Öhlins.
Plans are progressing on when and how the bikes will be revealed, but they will certainly make an impact.
Yes, with the events calendar being difficult to predict over the last few months, we’ve had to come up with several plans. I really can’t wait to see the response to these two bikes.
Our guest for Episode 17 of the Rider Magazine Insider podcast is Valerie Thompson, a professional drag racer and land-speed racer who holds the title of “World’s Fastest Female Motorcycle Racer.” She holds eight land-speed records and is a member of the Sturgis Motorcycle Hall of Fame, seven 200 MPH clubs and one 300 MPH club. In 2018, she piloted the BUB 7 Streamliner to a record speed of 328.467 mph and is the only female rider featured on the “World’s Top 10 Fastest Motorcycle Riders” list. At the 2021 Bonneville Motorcycle Speed Trials in August she will attempt to break the motorcycle land speed record of 376.363 mph. Valerie’s quest to become the world’s fastest motorcycle racer is the subject of the upcoming film documentary, “Rockets and Titans.” Learn more about Thompson at ValerieThompsonRacing.com.
This BMW RS 255 Kompressor was constructed in the 1980s by ex-works racer Walter Zeller and BMW engineer Gusti Lachermaier as a demonstration bike for Zeller. It was built from original parts sourced from BMW.
BMW RS 255 Kompressor
BMW had began experimenting with supercharging in the 1920s with the supercharger mounted above the transmission. In 1935 the Zoller supercharger was moved to the front of the motor, which now sported DOHC heads.
The RS 255 made its debut at Avus and was campaigned up until the early 1950s in the German national championship (which continued to allow forced induction, which had been banned when GP racing resumed in 1949).
BMW RS 255 Kompressor
Perhaps its greatest triumph was winning the 1939 IoM Senior TT with Georg Meier becoming the first non-British rider to win the event.
Several World Speed records were set by the 255 in 1936 by Ernst Henne including a run of 272 km/h. Output was normally around 50-60 hp but that could be increased to 80 hp by upping the boost, while in road race trim weight was 138 kg.
Cagiva began its 500cc Grand Prix efforts in 1978 – with a Suzuki RG500 painted red and silver, after failing to purchase the MV Agusta team when it quit racing at the end of 1976.
Jimmy Adamo’s 1984 Cagiva C9 Racer
1980 saw the introduction of the 1C2, powered by a somewhat modified Yamaha TZ500 motor housed in a Nico Bakker chassis. It wasn’t until the following year that a completely in-house engine design (the rotary-valve in-line C2C) took to the track, still with Virginio Ferrari as the rider – but results proved less than spectacular.
For the 1982 season the newly developed 3C2 used a rotary-valve square four motor similar to Suzuki’s RG500 and the chassis was developed in-house. Jon Ekerold scored the team’s first point with a 10th at Hockenheim.
The C9 was a revamped machine with square section alloy chassis
1983 was a lost year after a new open cradle frame that used the motor as a load bearing member proved to be a failure. The C7 made 132 hp but weight was up by 5 kg to 125 kg.
In 1984 six revamped bikes were built (the C9) for riders Marco Luchinelli and Hervé Moineau, but despite better handling provided by a square section alloy chassis, and a motor that didn’t loose power as the race went on, the best result was a 10th place by Luchinelli in the Yugoslavian GP.
Jimmy Adamo’s 1984 Cagiva C9 Racer
The aerodynamic bodywork was developed in the Aermacchi wind tunnel at Verase. The C9 was the last model to use the square four layout as Cagiva moved to a V4 in 1985 for the C10.
The C9 seen here was sent to the US in ’85 to Reno Leoni’s team for Jimmy Adamo to race. It remained in the US and was restored prior to my photographing it in 2014.
Riding Highway 88, aka Black Lightning. Photos by Kathleen Currie
Buffalo County, Wisconsin, is a hidden gem for motorcyclists. Located in the northwest part of the state, its southern border is the Mississippi River, which is the dividing line between Wisconsin and Minnesota. This is rural farm country, and the entire county has only one traffic light.
Buffalo County boasts dozens of fantastic motorcycling roads that twist along river banks, climb steep bluffs, dive into coulees and steep ravines, and cling to the edges of sandstone ridges. Numerous creeks and small rivers flow through the Waumandee Valley on their way to join the Mississippi, and they influence the shape and slope of these roads.
Buffalo County appears to have the most curvy road signs in Wisconsin.
The best starting point is the town of Mondovi, located in the northeastern corner of Buffalo County. A quick fuel and food stop is recommended, as gasoline stations, restaurants, and other amenities are sparse as you head south. After a bite at McT’s Diner we follow County Roads (CR) H and ZZ south to a hook up with State Highway 88 at the Buffalo River.
Known as “Black Lightning,” Highway 88 has approximately 130 corners and curves in 40 miles as it runs from Gilmanton to the Mississippi River, making it one of Wisconsin’s highest-rated biker roads. It gives riders — and their brakes — a real workout as they ride the ridges and slash through a sandstone cut north of Praag.
This tour route is available on the REVER app in the Rider Magazine community.
At CR U, we head east until we reach CR C at a crossroads just north of the village of Montana. CR C dishes up a variety of steep climbs and hairpin curves as we work our way south along Swinns Valley Creek, on our way to State Highway 95 just west of Arcadia. A short jog going west on 95 takes us to CR E, which heads northeast through Pansy Pass and Glencoe to Waumandee. CR E east of Waumandee has such steep hills that many homeowners have large angled mirrors mounted on posts at the foot of their driveways to help provide a view of any hidden oncoming traffic.
The village of Waumandee — Chippewa for “clear and sparkling water” — is worth a stop. It dates back to the 1850s, and Waumandee House, which was built in 1879, is still an active inn and restaurant. Every September the village hosts the Waumandee Hillclimb, a unique event for sports car enthusiasts. A two-mile stretch of Blank Hill Road west of Highway 88 is closed for a day of timed runs up an 18-turn hillclimb road course.
J & J BBQ in downtown Nelson is a favorite biker stop.
Crossing Highway 88 we take a shot at Blank Hill Road, which is as challenging as advertised. Take care along the section of road that clings to the side of a cliff and has no guardrail. At CR N, we head north along Alma Ridge, which has some white-knuckle descents on its way to the Buffalo River at State Highway 37. A short jog up Highway 37 takes us to Highway KK on the west side of the Buffalo River.
The lunch crowd heading down Great River Road (Highway 35) to Nelson.
Want a taste of riding the Isle of Man TT? Much like the famed road circuit, the CR KK south of Modena has climbs and descents chiseled into the sides of ridges with few guardrails, testing our binders and our nerves as we plunge down to CR D.
CR D winds west through rolling farm country to its junction with State Highway 35, which is known as the Great River Road and hugs the northern shore of the Mississippi. Overlooking the river, the town of Nelson has several recommended dining stops. On the day of our visit, J & J Barbeque and Nelson Creamery are overwhelmed with two-wheeled customers. We find an empty table at Beth’s Twin Bluff Café, and enjoy the best lemon pie we’ve ever tasted.
Picturesque farms are everywhere in Buffalo County.
We headed north on State Highway 25 along the eastern edge of the Tiffany Bottoms Natural Area. At the village of Misha Mokwa, we turn east onto CR KK and complete the circle at the junction with CR D. Twists and turns command our full attention on our way to the village of Modena. Visit the general store in Modena to see two large motorcycle sculptures made from scrap metal, and pick up some cheese curds for a snack. We continue east on D until it dead-ends at Highway 37, then we follow the Buffalo River north and return to Mondovi.
The roads on this 110-mile loop are challenging, but most of the pavement is in good condition (be mindful of gravel in some corners). Part of what makes Buffalo County a great riding destination is the traffic — except for Highway 35, there is none! On a full day of weekend riding we encountered two tractors, two pickups, seven motorcycles, and one corn picker, which was blocking a narrow farm road. The only thing missing for a perfect riding weekend is a motorcycle class at the Waumandee Hillclimb so we can clock our time going up Blank Hill Road!
Snaking roads and incredible scenery in the Waumandee Valley.
