“It takes a few miles but you eventually get a feel for what you can and can’t get away with in the cornering.”
The wind’s contorting my body beneath the bike’s minimalist windscreen. But I’m well into the triple figures by this point. I watch the LCD display as it creeps higher and higher until it hits a ceiling just above 160mph. I’m staggered. Not just at the speed, but the pace at which it got there. Half the distance of Bruntingthorpe’s 1.8-mile runway.
And it can handle
Other riders have raved about the Diavel’s handling. And for a cruiser it’s amazing. But that enormous (240 profile) back tyre is a tough old bugger and puts up a fair old fight when you ask it to turn. Not only that but it wants to run straight on if you release the pressure on the bars halfway round a turn. There’s nothing you can do to combat that other than learn its ways and put yourself a step ahead. It takes a few miles but you eventually get a feel for what you can and can’t get away with in the cornering. Take trail braking for example; that’s a big no-no as it merely extenuates the bike’s desire to stand up mid-corner. The big difference between this and your typical street bike is the Diavel requires a tad more thought. But once you’ve calibrated just how deep this bike wants to bury itself nose first into a bend, you’ll learn to compromise the corner entry speed to get a fantastic exit making the most of the awesome electronic wizardry.
2.6 How many seconds it took to get the Diavel from 0-60mph
It doesn’t like town riding...
Big twin makes big power at big revs. We all know where this is going. At low revs, especially in a higher gear, the Ducati pops and bangs as the chain snatches making you look like a novice and removing all the Ducati’s ‘cool’ in one quick and noisy chug. Because the side-mounted radiators struggle in traffic on hot days, the fans are almost permanently on making the Diavel sound more like a hairdryer than a power cruiser. Like everything, though, you soon get used to it and find a way to preserve the image.
...or big lean angles
Actually that’s unfair. The ground clearance is excellent on the road. But riding it on the photoshoot – where tyres get warmer and lean angles tend to increase – the pegs go down, closely followed on the right side by the brake lever which then bends backwards.
And to be fair, any other cruiser would have been upside down in the hedge by that point. To give a comparator, the Diavel’s ground clearance was almost as good (but not quite) as the Kawasaki Z750R.
So, not perfect then?
Damn close, but not quite. That huge back tyre might make the Diavel look good, but it does have an influence on the handling; and let’s not think about the replacement costs shall we?
Then there’s the fussy starting procedure, chain snatch in town and seat cowl that scratches a little too easily with a rucksack. Details, we know, but that’s our job. And none of them would stop us buying one.
And finally
I’ve sold my soul to the Devil. Or Diavel, if you want to get technical. I’m a convert, and from now on I pledge to bite my tongue before saying bad things about muscle bikes, because I’ve seen the light (or should that be ‘the dark side’).
And it looks good. Looks are subjective, of course, but parked up in town no one even noticed the VMAX alongside – and that bike has always been the one motorcycle guaranteed to pull a crowd.
Everything about the Diavel is right. From the undeniably sexy rear lights and whopping back tyre, through to the delicate fold down pillion pegs and neat pull-out grab rail.
It looks right, it goes right and it appears that everyone who rides it wants one. I appear to have kept the key, so roll on the next 2000 miles.