The sporty twin
If ever a ride could have been designed to show that you don’t need 200bhp to have fun on a sports bike, this is possibly it. The sun is out but the Midlands B-road is damp in places. It’s early and traffic is light, but the straights are bordered by hedgerows with occasional gates, muddy surfaces and signs warning ‘Beware of Tractors’.
Despite the potential hazards I’m winding the RS660’s throttle open when a clear stretch of road appears. But that’s only occasionally, and I can’t say I’m sad that I’ve only got 100bhp to play with because in these conditions that’s fine – and enough for an exhilarating blast.
The RS is certainly fast enough to make life interesting. On those straights it shoots quickly to the ton, quick-shifting sweetly through the box on the way, even if it doesn’t accelerate from there with massive urgency.
The sporty riding position is playing its part, too, encouraging me to give the Aprilia the Full Aleix at every opportunity. When I reach a busier main road the RS sits happily at about 5000rpm in fourth gear while I wait for a gap, then leaps forward and past the car ahead with a pleasingly sharp burst of acceleration.
It feels and sounds good, too, the twin-pot rumble hardening to a harsher note as the revs rise. By 7000rpm it’s really charging, and still smooth thanks to the balancer shaft. Up near the 10-grand mark it honks through the airbox and stubby silencer in a way that’s reminiscent of the RSV4 to which it’s related.
With more room it would be good for 140mph. Though maybe best not when it might suddenly find some gigantic machine joining the road up ahead… Thankfully the farmers stay in the fields, and I don’t need to confirm the fierce stopping power of the Aprilia’s blend of Brembo radial calipers and 320mm discs.
The RS660’s maximum output (to be precise it’s 98.5bhp, or 100PS) might be relatively modest but it’s a proper sports bike alright – in both good and bad ways, as I’m reminded every time I reach a village and have to slow down. I’m barely past the 30mph sign before I’m aware of my wrists. The suspension at both ends highlights the local council’s failings as the bike crunches over bumps, potholes and Tarmac seams.
The RS doesn’t have fancy semi-active suspension like the RSV4 Factory, so inevitably can’t match the superbike’s supple ride quality. But it gains some comfort with a less extreme riding position. Those bars are slightly higher than the top yoke,
and the footrests are sufficiently low to give a reasonable amount of legroom. Despite being tall I didn’t find it particularly cramped.
One of the RS660’s attributes is that despite sharing so much style and technology with the mighty RSV4 it’s less of a hardcore super-sports bike than it looks. Aprilia says its fairing features slots that aid engine cooling, not wings that provide downforce like the V4’s.
There’s no harm in a bit of reflected glory, though, and the slim seat always felt like a cool place to be. You lean forward behind the stubby screen towards the neat TFT instrument console. The view also includes a pair of usefully wide but occasionally blurry mirrors, and a tank with a sticker commemorating Aprilia’s 54 world titles.
Plenty of that GP and World Superbike winning knowledge has gone into the firm’s streetbikes over the last decade, the RS very much included. Its aluminium twin-spar frame looks like something Max Biaggi might have won with. The aluminium swing-arm pivots on the engine, which acts as a stressed member. Geometry is sportily short and steep.
It all works. At 183kg wet the RS is light, and it handles superbly. It could be flicked into turns with minimal effort, yet stayed admirably composed with the help of well-damped and adjustable KYB suspension. There was heaps of grip from the Pirelli Diablo Rosso Corsa tyres, the rear of which is a 180-section.
And the hardware is backed up by typically sophisticated and riderfriendly IMU-controlled electronics – a total of five rider modes incorporating three engine maps, three levels of engine braking, six levels of traction control, and options for engine braking, wheelie control and ABS. That might sound confusing, but switching rider mode changes all the parameters in very logical fashion, with scope to tweak the settings if you prefer.
Some riders would argue that a 100bhp middleweight doesn’t need multiple modes, especially when it fuels as cleanly as the RS does, but the benefits were highlighted on a day of varied weather. One moment I was carving through dry turns, the next I was splashing through a downpour. Perhaps I didn’t exactly need to be able to soften power delivery and increase traction control at a press of a button, but it certainly did no harm.
Then, barely five miles later, I was back in the sunshine, switching back to Dynamic mode – and accelerating out of another turn with the throttle wound open and the parallel-twin engine singing, on a road that hadn’t seen rain all day.
The contrast in conditions would have affected the ride on any type of bike, but a sports machine tends to exaggerate both the highs and the lows. The RS660 certainly delivers plenty of highs. At £10,300 it costs less than half as much as the sublime RSV4 Factory, and it’s more than half as much motorbike. If that makes it sound like a bit of a star, I wouldn’t disagree.