MV Agusta F4
Iconic Italian art on wheels looks absolutely fantastic but is raw and relentless
MV AGUSTA F4
When Italians mix exotic design and the art of engineering with a generous dollop of motorcycling passion, there can be only one result: something so exclusive, so revered, it can only be summed up in two characters: F4. What’s it like? Read on
NOT MANY CREATIONS offer a commanding, aweinspiring presence. Fewer still have the ability to stop people in their tracks. No, it’s not a medieval sculpture or iconic painting I’m talking about. Well, it may as well be considered art, albeit on wheels. This one doesn’t just look good, it packs a five-finger relentless assault on the senses, and in every imaginable department, too: style, presence, performance, even usability. There aren’t too many names that can make one’s jaw drop, or go weak in the knees in awe of its presence, but if there ever was one of such a rarefied breed, it’s the MV Agusta F4.
The F4 has long been the holy grail of supersport motorcycles in the eyes of many. Designed by the legend Massimo Tamburini, the F4 marked the return of the iconic brand in the superbike sphere 18 years ago. I myself have been humbled in the presence of an F4 1000S not but a decade ago. The pentacle-styled rear wheel on a single-sided swingarm with four exhaust barrels sticking out from under the rear seat — these certainly are not design elements anyone can take lightly. Mean business, that’s for sure.
So, why is the F4 recognised as such an icon? What makes it special? Is it the 195 horsepower? The fairing design? The screaming 13,500-RPM four-cylinder engine? Let’s put it this way. What MV Agusta do with metal and plastic is what Michelangelo would do with clay. No, not the ninja turtle.
When you have to raise the game, the focus doesn’t have to be on outright power and speed. Those end up being mere by-products as a result of the attention given to detail in all the right places. The F4, dare I say, it a masterfully simple design, fine-tuned to create an aura so brilliant; it’s a legacy to its maker that will for several lifetimes last. Is it excessive? Certainly not. It’s red and silver with touches of black and gold that hide the finest secrets under its tight, aerodynamic skin.
The thermoplastic fairing is lightweight and conceals a chromium-molybdenum-steel trellis frame that packs a 998-cc in-line four-cylinder 195-PS motor that screams to a 14,000-RPM red-line and vents through a distinctive underseat quad-barrel exhaust. Under the skin also lie a plethora of electronics with the MVICS moniker (Motor and Vehicle Integrated Control System): ride-by-wire, lean-angle sensor, eightlevel traction control, three-mode throttle sensitivity, peak torque, engine braking and response, and four engine maps, including one that is rider customisable. Yet it doesn’t look or feel futuristic or robotic. The large tank, high seat — at 830 millimetres, even I, being six-foot tall, just about managed to get the ball of my foot down on either side — low clip-on handlebars and rear-set foot-pegs all make it feel raw. Surely, it must feel robotic to ride.
Flick the red ignition toggle to ‘on’, thumb the starter, and, a long crank later, the four barks to life, settling into a rumbling, angry idle that would make a tiger cower in fear. All assumptions about being robotic and machinelike are instantaneously defenestrated from your brain. This may be Italian royalty on two wheels, but it sounds like it wouldn’t think twice before biting your arms off in a hurry. Does it, though?
Shift into first, and there’s a reassuring clunk as the slipper-clutch readies itself to interact with fury. Gingerly at first, I release the solid-feeling lever and begin rolling forward. The warm afternoon sun seemed to have worked in favour of the tyres that were sticky and looking forward
to begin feeling wanted again. Off we go. The F4 gets up to 80 km/h without hesitation and not sounding too angry about it either. Even at 7,000 RPM — half of what it can do — the angry rumble turns into a demonic war-cry that has mortals astride lesser metal scampering to make way.
The riding position is tank-huggingly committed and, with a few kilometres covered in a jiff, the neck muscles were looking forward to some relief. The only relief they got was a quick scout up ahead before another twist of the throttle, head buried in the windscreen with eyes reading triple figures on the light backlit digital console. The only gauge I managed to max, however, was the one for the temperature.
The Ed had been having a blast on the F4 earlier, too. He was certainly in his element, attacking the corners and flowing clean into them, then out, and into the next one, snaking bends not something either of them are strangers to. The tight nature of the corners failed to unsettle the Italian and, as I found out later on, every bit of the bike cohesively works to let you go even faster and carry more speed in through the corners. The rear Diablo is a 200/55 and has a higher and rounder profile, allowing for easier lean-in. The ABS, in Race mode, kicks in sharply and precisely, though only for moment, with a hint of squeal and momentary dive. As the misguided little calf moves across the lane, it’s back on the power with the F4, confidence up one level from that moment on.
Twin 320-mm steel front rotors are bitten by Brembo four-piston callipers monitored by Bosch 9 Plus ABS. The 50-mm Marzocchi telescopic fork compresses and plants the Devil’s own rubber even firmer into the asphalt. The Öhlins unit at the rear, which peeks through at you when you care to look at it, helps put the power down strong. It may weigh in at 191 kg, but the F4 feels like nothing remotely heavy. The electronics keeping all hell in control further remove the weight of the world from my shoulders and it rolls on effortlessly.
Even in traffic, the F4 feels sublime in the handling and flickability departments. The only issue, for me personally, I believe, are the heat dissipation channels. Air fryers may be healthier, but I certainly had no intention of being medium-well in a traffic jam. Thankfully, the buffoon answering a phone call in the middle of the road seemed to have dawdled further to the side and the sounds of tired ancient naturally- aspirated diesel engines ready to trundle forward had me on my marks on the throttle.
Out of the village and up the winding hill road, the F4 charged forward gathering revs with unmistakable precision and getting up to tripledigits again in a couple of unafforded blinks. Into the flowing bends towards home, the F4 was now running cooler and the temp gauge had the liberty of a couple of bars. I couldn’t relax, however, not unless I let go of the handlebars altogether. So, back into the city it was.
Versatility may not be its USP, but the F4 certainly has got that aspect covered, and surprisingly well. It will trundle along at 50 km/h in fourth but can also do that in first without making a fuss either way. Acoustically, the latter is the better choice. The beauty of the F4, other than its appearance, lies in its ability to deliver across boundaries. It can relentlessly give more, as much as the rider can handle, with each twitch of the throttle, with every gear. It can attack a track yet enjoy a B-road. It can swoop in and out of bends, or it can power on to 290+ km/h on straights. Only you need to be as committed as it is. On track, on road, and everywhere you choose to go with it, it is simply relentless.