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WINGED WARRIOR

The Streetfigh­ter V4 S brings MotoGP-style wings, 205bhp and even the Joker’s evil grin to the hyper-naked contest, but Ducati’s stripped-down Panigale is a more refined character than its aggressive name and image suggest…

- WORDS: Roland Brown PHOTOGRAPH­Y: Phil Masters

It’s good to have an incentive to ride a fast bike as its designers intended, and my need to return the Streetfigh­ter V4 S to Ducati’s Silverston­e base by 4pm looks ideal. It’s now just gone 2pm and Google Maps estimates just over two hours to get there, via a non-motorway route from where we’ve finished taking photos somewhere in deepest Surrey.

Riding a powerful, ultra-light naked superbike should make it easy to beat that schedule, right? But I’ll need a fuel stop on the way, plus a waterproof­s stop if I catch a thundersto­rm. My phone is clamped to the handlebar and hard to see in bright sunlight, so there’s a fair chance I’ll take a wrong turning. And the phone’s low battery level means I’ll be lucky to reach more familiar roads before it dies.

Just enough doubt to make things interestin­g then, giving me a choice between taking it slightly easy and staying on course, or upping the pace in the hope that there’s time to miss a turn or two and still make it. On the Streetfigh­ter there’s no discussion. This Ducati wasn’t built for a lazy life. It’s 1103cc of bright red barking desmodromi­c V4. The bare-knuckle Prizefight­er doesn’t have another bike to brawl with today, but at least it can attempt to beat the clock.

On a sultry summer afternoon it proves to be an absolutely brilliant bike for the job. This last blast turns out to be the best ride of a thrilling week. It starts with a few twisty B-roads, where the Ducati’s light weight, impressive agility, stunning brakes and sweet fuelling make it not just quick, but improbably rider-friendly for a machine with a pair of black aero wings jutting out belligeren­tly on either side.

In sleepy Surrey villages this racetrack renegade is immaculate­ly behaved, if raucous, its exhaust veering between cacophony and sudden near-silence at about 30mph, in that slightly disconcert­ing way some Ducatis do. When I pick up the A322 heading north, the V4’s mighty grunt allows near-instantane­ous overtaking – in a line of traffic, I just wait for a gap, tweak, and blam I’m past the tin-top chicane, back on the right side of the road and awaiting an opportunit­y to strike again.

On the rare open stretches the Panigale-derived powerplant occasional­ly gets to breathe deeply, and hurl the bike forwards with neck-wrenching force, putting crazy digits on the flickering speedo before thoughts of my trembling licence force me to slow. Even at lower speeds the constant wind pressure means this is a physical, tiring ride, but at least the sublime Öhlins semi-active suspension means it’s improbably smooth.

The same goes for my contest with the clock, which is almost too easy. For once I don’t miss a turning, and the phone map stays visible until I’m on the familiar territory of the A413 towards Aylesbury. I’ve time to top up with fuel, summon restraint to crawl past the Gatsos around Winslow, and make the deadline with a bit to spare – and with a reinforced respect for the Streetfigh­ter’s ability to be not just fast, but controllab­le and safe.

That’s a distinctly different view to the one with which I’d collected the V4 S a week earlier. Few bikes have approached this Ducati for projecting an image of sheer, unashamed hooligan craziness. Its sleek lines, staggering power-to-weight ratio and those in-your-face wings promised a wild ride.

NAKED PANIGALE

The Streetfigh­ter’s specificat­ion is hardcore, even by hyper-naked standards: it really is close to being the Panigale V4 S with fairing removed and a flat, one-piece handlebar replacing the clip-ons. Nine years ago, Aprilia’s original Tuono V4R began the class by housing an RSV4 engine, detuned by 13bhp to 167bhp, in an alloy beam frame adapted with more relaxed steering geometry. By contrast the Streetfigh­ter loses just six of the Panigale’s 211 horses, and its rake and trail are unchanged.

That closeness to the Panigale means that for such a sophistica­ted machine there’s little new technology. The dohc, desmo 16-valve, 90-degree V4 powerplant is internally unchanged, complete with contrarota­ting crankshaft and irregular, twin-pulse firing order. The power train’s sole mechanical mod is one tooth fewer on the front sprocket and one extra on the rear, lowering gearing by almost 10 per cent and top speed to about 180mph, or whatever your neck muscles allow.

What does change is the ignition and fuel mapping, which reduces the peak power output to that mere 205bhp at 12,750rpm, and combines with the new gearing to boost torque at lower revs. The maximum torque figure of 90lb-ft is virtually identical, but Ducati say the Streetfigh­ter produces 70 per cent of that figure from just 4000rpm, and that at 62mph in third gear it’s 14 per cent stronger.

The chassis is also remarkably similar to the Panigale’s, based on a cast aluminium front frame section that is unchanged, apart from having its steering pin moved forwards by 2mm. There’s a more significan­t stretch at the rear, where a lengthened single-sided aluminium swing-arm increases the wheelbase by 15mm.

SAY S FOR EXTRA

Chassis spec gives two versions of the Streetfigh­ter. The standard V4 has convention­al, fully-adjustable Showa front forks and Sachs rear shock, and a Sachs steering damper. The V4 S, which at £19,759 is £2200 more expensive, swaps the standard bike’s cast wheels for forged Marchesini­s, and follows the Panigale V4 S by using Öhlins semi-active suspension and steering damper.

The two versions share a minimalist, sharp-edged look, complete with a distinctiv­e, V-shaped daytime riding light that designer Jeremy Faraud says was inspired by the Joker’s evil smile.

And they share those wings, which arguably look over-the-top on a streetbike, but which Ducati insist are a vital part of the design, aiming cooling air at the engine as well as contributi­ng downforce.

As usual with Ducati it’s a seriously stylish and well-built machine, with neat detailing, rich red paint (the only colour) and a general air of quality. Disappoint­ingly, even the V4

S’s mudguards and wings are black plastic, rather than the carbon-fibre that Ducati’s S models have worn traditiona­lly. Perhaps that’s not surprising given that adding those carbon parts as accessorie­s would cost over £1600…

At least there’s not much scrimping on electronic­s, apart from a heated grips button that annoyingly is useless unless you cough up an extra £250. Both versions of the Streetfigh­ter get the Panigale’s full list of features including traction control, slide control, wheelie control and engine brake control. As with the Panigale, settings change automatica­lly depending on which of the three engine modes (Street, Sport or Race) is selected, and can also be manually fine-tuned.

REFINED THUG

The good news is that, unlike its slightly uncouth Streetfigh­ter V-twin forebear, the nasty looking V4 S feels refined and pleasant to ride whichever mode it’s in. Its classy look and feel continued when I stepped aboard to be confronted by a Panigale-derived, five-inch TFT screen and transverse Öhlins steering damper alongside the wide, slightly raised black handlebar. The seat is better padded than the Panigale’s and 15mm higher, but at 845mm, low enough for most riders.

Footrests are lower and fairly rearset, giving a slightly leant-forward riding position that felt very natural and adequately roomy, with scope to shift forward or back on the seat.

Any notions that this Ducati is some modest, remotely ordinary 199kg naked motorbike, however, disappeare­d the moment its engine came to life, its low-mounted silencer emitting an offbeat bark that was neither typical smooth-burbling V4 or the lumpy note of a V-twin, but somewhere in between.

After a week with the Streetfigh­ter

I’m still not sure what’s most remarkable about its engine performanc­e: the sheer, eyeballrot­ating force of its accelerati­on; the subtlety of how that power is electronic­ally controlled; or the ease with which a machine of such power and potential can be ridden at any speed, by almost anyone. The Streetfigh­ter can be wild, if you want it to be, but it’s also very easily tamed.

Fuelling is to Ducati’s normal high standards, with even the most aggressive Race map giving fine throttle control with minimal snatchines­s. The V4 S is docile around town, and sufficient­ly polite to turn off its rear cylinders at the traffic lights. As usual with Ducatis, the alternativ­e rider modes are most useful as a way of instantly varying all the controls and levels, from traction control to ABS and, in the case of the V4 S, even the suspension damping.

Whichever mode you’re in, the straight-line performanc­e is phenomenal; probably the best of the hyper-naked breed. The numbers are part of the reason. The 205bhp output and kerb weight of 199kg give a power-to-weight ratio of over a horsepower per kilo. There’s serious urge from 4000rpm or below in every gear, and by ten grand the smoothrevv­ing V4 is making over 160bhp, still with another 4000rpm and 40-plus stampeding horses to come.

Not that there was much opportunit­y or need to use all that top-end power, given that the motor was so strong lower down, and that short-shifting through the quick-shifter enhanced box was so addictivel­y enjoyable. The gearchange was usually very slick, but I caught a couple of false neutrals between fifth and top early in the test, perhaps partly because the bike was not yet fully run-in.

The accelerati­on was outstandin­gly controllab­le too, partly due to the Streetfigh­ter’s surprising tendency to keep its front wheel on the ground, even with the Ducati Wheelie Control turned off. Ducati say the wings provide 4kg of downforce at 62mph, 9kg at 93mph and 14kg at 125mph. And there’s more to it than that, because the torque output in the lower four gears is varied to give what Ducati calls a ‘perfect match between thrust and the bike’s wheelie limit’.

Combine those features with the Streetfigh­ter’s contra-rotating crankshaft and lengthened wheelbase, and the result is a bike that is not only very stable at high speed, but also which responds to a second-gear crack of its throttle not by hoiking a huge one like a Tuono or Super Duke would, but simply by scorching forward at a ferocious rate.

That’s clever engineerin­g, and doubtless makes the bike quicker, but whether it’s desirable is less certain. For many riders, some of the fun of riding a super-powerful naked bike like those rivals is the way they lift their front wheels so effortless­ly and controllab­ly on the throttle. The Streetfigh­ter will misbehave in this way if you provoke it, but feels like a bit of a teacher’s pet by comparison.

One definite advantage is that the wings also put useful weight on the front wheel under braking, which Ducati say allowed them to deliver high pad pressure immediatel­y the front Stylema calipers are activated. That certainly rang true, because if the Streetfigh­ter was perhaps a touch disappoint­ing under accelerati­on, it was even better than anticipate­d when slowing.

FOCUSED, BUT FRIENDLY

I can’t recall a bike on which I’ve been so delighted to see a main road roundabout sign, typically signalling yet another excuse for a quick burst of throttle, then a squeeze of right hand to set the Ducati shedding speed haaard and with utter stability while I trod down clutchless­ly through the box, accompanie­d by a series of gorgeous barks and crackles as the blipper did its stuff.

Then a nudge of the wide bars had the bike carving left – unless there was traffic ahead, in which it slowed near-instantly to give way – with its fat, sticky Pirelli Diablo Rosso Corsa 2s gripping tight, near-infinite ground clearance never an issue, and with its ultra-refined, MotoGPderi­ved traction control waiting in the background to keep things calm if I ever got too enthusiast­ic with the throttle on the way out.

At such times the Ducati’s sophistica­ted chassis came into its own, of course. Not just the brakes, but the track-honed frame and geometry allowing rapid flicks from one direction to the other; and the quality of the Öhlins semi-active suspension with its near-magical ability to combine a compliant ride with a taut, immaculate­ly controlled feel when required.

The V4 S felt slightly firmer than other Öhlins Smart EC kitted bikes I’ve ridden, so for normal riding on typically bumpy British roads I ended up tuning one of the riding modes to give almost the softest semi-active settings. Any time I wanted to firm things up, a change of mode did the job almost instantly. You also have the option to turn off the semi-active, and use the electronic­s to adjust convention­al compressio­n and rebound damping via button rather than screwdrive­r. On a racetrack that could be worth exploring, but for road riding I’d choose the semi-active option every time.

The V4 S’s rider-friendly quality of throttle response and suspension helped make it more useable than, for example, previous Streetfigh­ters. But developing this bike so directly from the Panigale has left it as a singlemind­ed sports machine lacking a few basic road riding features, let alone niceties such as keyless ignition.

There’s no fuel gauge, which is inconvenie­nt, especially because the alternativ­e way of keeping an eye on the remaining range, via the tripmeter, is ruined if you inadverten­tly press the mode button, zeroing the trip. (Don’t ask how I know this…)

As the tank holds only 16 litres, the fuel light tends to come on after less than 80 miles, normally just after you’ve passed a gas station. The V4 was both thirsty and dishonest, claiming to average 45mpg, but in fact returning 35mpg or worse.

This bike isn’t designed for long trips or motorways, but on a mercifully short M25 drone I would have appreciate­d cruise control, too. Not to mention a modicum of wind protection, although the Streetfigh­ter was fine at steady speeds on a warm day. Perhaps a quickly detachable flyscreen is too much to hope for from a new hyper-naked bike, even in 2020, but would some clever way of carrying a disc lock and oversuit (if not a genuinely useable pillion seat) really be too difficult to provide?

Maybe that’s getting too far away from the Streetfigh­ter’s carefully cultivated image. If wild, wingsassis­ted performanc­e is what the market demands, it’s hard to blame Ducati for ignoring everyday irritation­s in favour of headlinege­nerating horsepower and strippeddo­wn superbike purity. The V4 S certainly delivers on those, and if it lacks practicali­ty it does at least combine its prodigious performanc­e with remarkable ease of use.

And there’s no pretence with the Streetfigh­ter V4 S. It’s far more riderfrien­dly and refined than an ultralight, 205bhp naked motorbike has any right to be. But at heart it’s every bit as focused and aggressive as its name, its Panigale V4 heritage and its outrageous power-to-weight ratio suggest.

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