The KTM 1290 Super Duke R
I find funny how time, even a relatively short span of the stuff, can be unkind to a bike. The 1290 Super Duke R is a bike that has suffered during its three years of existence. It’s also a bike that both wows and winds me up in equal measure; a real Jekyll-and-Hyde character and, thus, one which needs two stabs at testing. More of that in a mo.
For now, though, one thing that really stands out about the KTM is that no matter how ‘nice’ it is to ride – and it really rather is – it can still come across as a bit clunky. The gearbox – for starters – is one such clunkster, needing a firm stamp or lift to engage another cog. Some may say it’s a man’s gearbox, other’s may claim it’s a tractor’s, but whichever direction the 1290 is taken in for the future it’s something that could do with a big dollop of sophistication.
Alongside that, there’s an almost old-school way about the Duke in its control actions. When it was launched a few years back, while it wasn’t quite what we expected it to be, it was really rather exciting. And now, so long as you’re rolling on and off the throttle in a single gear, it remains as such. Then you hit the brakes. This Special Edition has petal discs added, and while overall power seems the same they produce a weird and mildly off-putting pulse at the lever that you’d initially swear was like the ABS kicking in. It isn’t, it’s just the pads on the discs, but in those instances where you do get the ABS to intrude it exacerbates that feeling. This means, occasionally, coming to a stop can feel a tad lurchy. That probably reads like a bigger deal than it actually is, but it’s a quirk worth mentioning.
As is comfort, which is certainly one of the bike’s strong points. You sit up straighter than on any other bike on test, which only becomes a pain on long motorway stints. While there’s not a huge amount of weight going though the bars, the seating position is one of both security and control. The softly set suspension means that when you do want to boss it, which it laps up, just enough weight is pressed onto the front tyre via the excellent WP fork to pull off some astounding cornering action. The only time it doesn’t help is on fast sweepers when it isn’t loaded up. The lack of weight through the bars means you’re relying on said superb suspension and the tyres to get you through, which they tend to do, but it’s not as comfortably managed or as settled as on the others. Yes, you could firm things up but then you’d diminish the exemplary bump-management skills which sees this so effective on lumpier stretches of Tarmac, and the plush overall ride. All things considered though, it does still handle remarkably well for such a lanky lass, and its uncanny wetweather road holding skill genuinely borders on the phenomenal.
But now we get to the crux of the 1290’s problem, which is mostly down to the electronics. It’s this system that gives it a near bipolar nature. You’ve got this wonderfully grunty engine that gets seriously curbed by the traction control. In fact, it’s actually better to have the engine in a lower power mode with the traction on. In ‘Sport’, the traction control can curb things so much as to become truly irritating, as it struggles to contain the pent-up fury of the V-twin’s delivery. Switch to ‘Road’ and the system has slightly less to contend with, equalling a far smoother ride with less intrusion. This puts the stops on any fooling around though; it makes it lovely to ride in all conditions, but it’s still not the bike I want.
No, the bike I’d want magically appears when you turn the traction control off. Deactivating this is akin to Jekyll gulping down his potion because moments later Mr Hyde is out and causing a serious mayhem. It’s almost unbelievable how much of a different bike it becomes – night and day, black and white, insert whatever polar opposites analogy you wish to throw at it, and it’ll stick, like superglue.
This is the machine we all saw in the promotional footage. Now the engine is an absolute monster, it’ll rear up with just a whiff of the throttle in first and second through hard acceleration, often third too, and off the clutch in fourth with a bit of a helping yank on the bars. But it’s the delicious violence in the lower gears that sets your heart racing. A minute ago you were essentially riding a big super-naked scooter; now you’re utilising all your riding skills to keep the blasted thing in check and constantly checking your mirrors for the authorities.
Every corner entry and exit becomes a compulsive and dynamic experience – fly into a bend, hammer the brakes and load up the front, pitch it in, then fire it out with the front hopping off the surface and the bars gently waggling from side to side. It’s epic fun! And despite the stupid amount of low-down power available, you just don’t need the traction control. The mechanical grip from the chassis and tyres are more than enough to handle the output. Only on, say, a track, on the very edge of the tyre and limit of adhesion would I want a smidge of backup against the ridiculous torque on tap.
But that’s the problem, there is no ‘smidge’ as it’s not adjustable in any sense. On most of the others you can have your cake and eat it, but with the KTM there’s no middle ground. You have to choose between taming pure fury, or potentially being utterly infuriated. These days, that’s a choice you shouldn’t have to make…