MV AGUSTA SUPERVELOCE 800
As far as first impressions go, I really wasn’t sure how I’d take the Superveloce. It looks stunning in photos but they can be deceiving – yet the first time my retinas met with that gorgeous red colour scheme, I knew I was in for a treat. Even though it was just silently sitting there, the Superveloce’s presence is so loud it makes a Boeing 747 sound quiet, with everything from the rear LED light that looks like Iron Man’s Arc Reactor to those organ-style exhaust pipes making it stand out from the crowd. But then again, getting up close and personal with the 800 only shows the extra thought that’s gone into it… perhaps a little too much, in my opinion.
See, alongside the nice touches – like the fact that there isn’t a single exposed screw on the fairings – are a few oddities. They’ve stuck a leather belt buckle on the tank that would look more at home on a cruiser, and the funny lump of plastic that goes across the
top of the screen? Well, it reminds me of one of those silly hats golfers wear that just consists of a peak.
Mind you, it’s not all about the weird, but just as much the wonderful. Close up, the Superveloce really does ooze class. Hopping on board, in no time at all I’ve forgotten about the 800’s oddities and I’ve fallen in love with the cockpit. Everything, from the top yoke to the dash, look like a million dollars... until I cast my eyes over the pogos. I do think, for the cash, that a set of gold Öhlins should be sitting in there.
I have to say though, it made me smile again when the ignition switched on, as the chunky colour dash really does burst into life. The Superveloce has stolen the colour TFT display from the range-topping Brutale 1000 and it shows; you get everything but the kitchen sink, from changing machine settings to connecting the MV’s smartphone app that allows you to ponce around with settings and track your rides – pretty snazzy, if we do say so.
Although the 800 looks sporty, the fit couldn’t be better for my 5ft 7in frame. Unlike the supersport-style F3 it’s built upon, the Superveloce has that little extra element of comfort, which, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting considering some of the horrendous café-racer machines I’ve swung a leg over in years gone by. Yeah, it’s no sporty tourer by any stretch of the imagination, but the pegs feel slightly lower and the ‘bars are in a reasonable position, with all the switch gears and buttons exactly where I expected ‘em, which is always a nice touch when firing it up for the first time.
I know I said that the bike looked loud but jeez, it has the soundtrack to back it up.
FOR POOTLING ALONG, IT FELT COMFY, EASY AND BALANCED.
If you’re some sort of kinky cosplay Marvel fan, the Superveloce will be right up your street. From the front it looks like Iron Man with a monobrow, wearing his dad’s old brown belt to keep his trousers up. At the rear end there’s some glowing, atomic shiny red buttons to make all aware of its presence. That said, it’s kinda quirky and I can appreciate its unusual styling. It’s difficult to put it in a bracket in terms of style – is it trying to be a race bike? A café racer, perhaps? One thing for sure is the clip-ons are as weird as the styling. They feel a bit like you’re a Zimmer frame and take a fair bit of getting used to. That, combined with the oddly high seat and pegs, leaves you over the nose of the bike, checking out Iron Man’s electro-magnet from close quarters. The engine sounds like an aggressively shaken bag of spanners on tickover, and you start to wonder whether it was assembled by a qualified, trained technician or whether MV commissioned the bloke from the pub who said he’d once changed a spark plug on his Suffolk Punch lawnmower. Give the engine a bit of throttle, however, and it’s an absolute peach of a motor and sounds lovely through those triple sword-like exhausts. Whether it’s to do with the chassis length or the gearing we’re not sure, but it produces considerably smoother and more useable power than the Brutale, despite being the same engine. Having turned all of the rider aids to their lowest intrusion levels, the ABS was absolutely terrifying, to the point where I genuinely didn’t think I was going to make several corners – unpredictability of intensity of intrusion being the issue. After doing some digging, it turned out I had inadvertently set it to being at its most intrusive (despite being set to level one), which is counterintuitive compared to pretty much every other bike on the planet. The good news is with it set to level two, the Brembos fitted to this bum-fun bike on wheels were actually better, eliminating the fear of death by ABS a bit as well. From a riding point of view, the Superveloce does give a bloody stiff rear end feel. Whether this is just the spring rate or compression damping we don’t know, but it’s something I’d certainly be adjusting for road use because the front end feels lovely, and turns as fast as you like. Overall this bike was quirky to look at, nice to ride, great to wheelie, and fun to throw around tight, twisty corners. However, it did have a few mild irritations: slippy footpegs, mirrors which constantly move, a slightly clunky quickshifter/blipper system (even if Carlos loved it), and a mildly uncomfortable riding position for someone who isn’t 5ft nothing. Despite being very sporty, there were a few flies in the ointment for me, not to mention the borderline offensive price tag. But if you like quirkiness, you don’t sweat the small stuff, and appreciate the fine art that MVs always boast, then this bike oozes style while cruising through town and will put a smile on your face when you open the taps and give it a pasting. Nice job, MV.
Firing up the triple for the first time is enough to get your endorphins flowing once you get past the tick-over, and even though MV says it’s made those 148 horses a little softer, it still has that seriously ferocious bark we’ve come to love over the years. From the very first time I clicked it into first and let out that clutch, I was surprised at just how smooth and refined the MV felt, which has always been a bit of an Achilles’ heel where the Italian brand has been concerned.
Dare I say, at the very bottom of the rev range the Superveloce was superb, and for the first leg of riding through town, the slow-tekkers really caught me by surprise. Sure, I hadn’t quite found out what the manners would be like at speed, but for pootling along it felt comfy, easy, and balanced – and even the suspension didn’t feel ludicrously stiff. Yes, it had a lot of support, but thanks to the fact it has its very own shock just for this model, it was by no stretch out of place; in fact, it handled things
better than I’d anticipated. But the question remained – would it be able to handle what I thought would be its natural habitat, the open road, just as well?
Abso-bloody-lutely. I always worry when manufacturers chop and change awesome machines up, but the Superveloce ticks the box when it comes to eating up B roads in its stride thanks to that seriously saucy chassis and pogo combo, coupled with the race-y yet relaxed riding position.
It feels like some serious effort has been put into making this thing work. The front end feels absolutely lush with loads of support on the brakes, followed by a real nice transition off the throttle and into corners, yet it never feels overly stiff – which is a usual occurrence on sporty machines these days. Even over Lincolnshire’s relatively decent road surfaces, there’s a fair share of holes and bumps, yet the MV doesn’t tie itself in knots. It sucks it up without needing to be asked twice… unlike the mirrors, which shake beyond all belief.
Even so, one thing that surprised me was its anchors – and not in a good way, either. Being dished out with some fairly hefty four-piston calipers, I was expecting a little more bite on the initial grab and a lot more oomph when they were hit hard, yet they
seemed to lack the edge I’d expect, especially when there’s a big ol’ Brembo logo down the side of them… and that was when the heavily intrusive ABS wasn’t kicking in, either.
But then again, nothing is perfect, and even though stopping isn’t its strongest point, getting up to speed really is.
If you’ve never had the opportunity to crack open one of MV’s glorious middleweight triples, I would highly recommend it; it’s one of my favourite bits about these bikes, and thankfully it hasn’t changed too heavily for 2020.
You see, even though it’s ‘only’ a sub798cc powerplant, it honestly feels like so much more. Somehow, with every serious twist of the throttle, the speedo seems to climb faster than any other middleweight I’ve managed to open up, and it does so with one of the very best soundtracks in the business.
If that wasn’t enough, I just wanted to get to the redline as soon as possible to have a stab at the glorious ‘shifter, which feels like a perfectly homed aftermarket part. With every click up the box, there’s a real positive yet smooth hit into the next cog, while downshifts are met with a ferocious bark that wouldn’t feel out of place on a superbike; especially as it worked so positively at low speed when short-shifting as well.
I think I’d go as far as saying that it’s one of the very best systems I’ve sampled as standard.
Even so, I think the biggest shock was the fact that I jumped off the Superveloce after cracking a fair few miles to find myself still feeling fairly fresh. On face value, the MV might appear to have been built with style at its heart, but it really didn’t lack substance.
It can hustle corners and tackle straights, and it isn’t shy of carving through town and the odd bit of traffic.
I’m not saying it’s perfect, but still it makes you feel special and it turns heads like no tomorrow.
The question is – does it feel like an extra three grand compared to its naked counterpart? I’m not sure it does.