When a test ride turns into a love affair
‘I enjoyed my Ducati Scrambler FT long-termer so much I just had to have one of my very own’
How MCN’s Simon Brown has become addicted to his Scrambler FT
‘Land of Joy? Don’t get me started’
This was a definite case of love at first braaap! I’ve always been drawn to bikes with a bit of character and eccentricity – even more so if they have no more than two cylinders. Want proof? One of my most memorable long-term test bikes in 20 years or so of this bike journalism lark was a Cagiva Raptor 650 I ran on RiDE magazine in 2001. The Suzukiengined pseudo Monster was a funny creature but adorable with it.
So, like many people, I’d been following the development of Ducati’s new Scrambler range with interest; every spy shot and leak drawing my attention. But I wasn’t totally sold on the concept, not least because of the marketing spiel. Land of Joy? Really? Probably sounds great in Bologna but here in the UK a tad cringe-worthy. And as for all that the hipster baggage, best not get me started on that one.
Either way, I was keen to give one a shot and when the chance came to have one as a long-termer, there was no way I was going to turn it down. But which to choose? The 803cc Scrambler broke new ground by coming in a range of, well, flavours from the Icon to the Full Throttle and Urban Enduro. When it came to it, the decision was easy and the Full Throttle’s flatter bars and slightly more rugged looks had me hooked (although I always abbreviate Full Throttle to FT because it still strikes me as a slightly twee name). But would I actually like it when it arrived? Hell yes. This was all five years ago now but I can still recall that first ride home like it was yesterday. Those flat bars giving positive feedback for what the front wheel was up to, while the knobblybut-not-very-knobbly Pirelli MT60 tyres felt great rolling in and out of corners. Just an easy, simple ride and no electronic modes to fuss about. No real need to do more than glance at the manual. Two wheels, engine, throttle. Ideal.
Then there was the evocative crackle from the twin-exit Termignoni exhaust complete with pops on the over-run. Not too loud, in no way offensive but just a delight. Nearing home, I was burbling down a single-lane B-road and pulled over to check on a Kawasaki ZXR400 owner who was standing forlorn at the verge. Turns out he had only run out of gas and supplies were on the way. Giving the Scrambler the once-over, the guy asked how old it was – mistaking it for a genuine classic rather than a retro. “Old?” I replied. “It’s brand new today.” What followed was a glorious summer of motorcycling that saw me clock up more than 5500 miles on the test bike. Highlights included a jaunt down to Cornwall - in part to see if surf dudes of the kind who featured in the Ducati marketing would be drawn to the bike. Turns out they were more interested in catching waves, but the bike still attracted its fair share of admiring glances. It wasn’t that bad on the slog down the M5 and A30 either. No tourer, obviously, but still a reasonable place to be despite savage rain from Brum to Exeter. More highlights followed, including my first foray into the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride down in London. The morning was roasting and it was a riot winding through city streets congested with all manner of machines and a decent turnout of assorted Scramblers. All to soon, though, it was time for
the bike to go back and I felt pretty glum at the prospect. “Why don’t you just buy one then, Brownie?” a colleague suggested.
Why not indeed? I got on the phone to Ducati and the rest is history. It’s the first new vehicle of any description I’ve ever owned (well, apart from a bicycle and a skateboard) and the twin still gives me just as much pleasure five years down the line as it did then. With lockdown easing towards the middle of May I wasted no time in flipping open the garage door and getting on the road for a post-work ride with my neighbour Richard and his white and gold Norton Commando 750. Buzzing down back roads through the Northants villages of Benefield, Glapthorn and Southwick in warm evening sun was sheer perfection. Pulling up by the stone bridge at Blatherwyke to take in the scene, we both agreed it was bliss to be back out there and even better on a pair of naked bikes, whether ancient or modern.