Speed merchants usually go for big Japanese fours but I opted for a walk on the wild side - a used Ducati 888! Why? Well a series of so-called Japanese superbikes had left a bad taste in my mouth. Not because they were unreliable or slow or anything you could point a particular finger at, just that all they offered was speed. After a while, it simply wasn't enough. Enter a lovingly cared for Ducati 888 vee-twin. The owner was the kind of fanatic that dreams are made of - he spent an hour interrogating me before I was let loose on the machine. He would only sell to the right kind of chap! This is pretty typical of Ducati owners, despite the huge wedge involved.
The 888 is a beast of a motorcycle. Though it doesn't actually vibrate as such, it's a raw old thing that communicates the nuances of the combustion process directly to the rider in a way that a straight four could never emulate. A brief ride left me astonished at the fluidity of its vee-twin motor and wondering just what I'd let myself in for. The punch when I whacked open the throttle for the first time almost broke my back in two; the subtle difference between the outrageous torque of a vee and excessive power of a four. I practically had to force the money on to the vendor, who clocking my shining mug must've relived the highs of his own ownership and become suddenly reluctant to part with the 888.
Reality is a harsh bedfellow. The next day I found that the watercooled motor was reluctant to rev beyond 6000rpm. I phoned the old owner up who reckoned he'd never experienced such symptoms, added that he was about to go to Australia for the next six months so I shouldn't waste my time phoning him again! There followed several visits to people who reckoned they were Ducati dealers but didn't appear to have much of an idea of what was going down in the complex array of electronics and high tech metal that the 888 represented.
The bike would rumble along nicely enough at low revs but lacked the kicks I'd experienced on the test ride. I eventually found a Ducati expert who deduced that the previous owner had bodged the exhaust's baffles with some GRP that had soon been eaten up by the heat. He sat me gently down in a seat before revealing how much a new exhaust system would cost - a few taps with his hammer revealed that the old one was so far gone that there was no easy reclamation. He even offered to buy the bike off me, obviously reckoning that as a Ducati novice I didn't really know what I'd let myself in for. I got in hock with the bank and decided the good times were only a minor financial embarrassment away.
Fortunately, the expert had been correct in his diagnosis - these seemingly simple motors are actually more complex and finicky than the Japanese fours, one minor problem causing the whole to be rendered useless. With the new exhaust I was soon in seventh heaven, revelling in the bike's manic acceleration, glorious exhaust note and heavenly handling.
It took three weeks for the clutch to start giving trouble. Ducati clutches are notorious weak spots in an otherwise sophisticated design. It'd always been a bit grabby and noisy but it soon became really annoying, dragging in town and slipping whenever I went over 7000 revs - which was often, such was the intoxicating mix of power, torque and handling! I could run rings around bikes like the CBR900 in the tighter bends. The good life redefined. And such was the gutsy nature of the beast I never came close to boredom city.
Eventually, the clutch was burnt out to a cinder. Refused to work at all. The expert was called in, who just smiled and demanded another large wedge. He also informed me that it was time for the desmo valves to be done and that the piston rings were nearing their wear limits. He came up with a four figure sum to put the motor to rights and wasn't surprised to find my jaw aligned with my belly-button! This time I took his offer of money seriously; if the loss was slight, the relief was great! For all the Ducati's serious sensations I always had the feeling I was close to complete mechanical disaster. If I could afford it, though, I'd buy a new 916 - like yesterday!
Dave Williams
****************************************************
The year was 1992, I had a pile of dosh to spend on my favourite pastime and a yearning for something Italian and bright red. When a 1990 888 Ducati turned up in the local rag I was on the phone in an instant. Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the seat playing with the throttle. The modified, straight through exhaust made a glorious vee-twin growl that had sold the bike even before I had a test blast.
The next day I was cursing the front end. Every time I used the front brake, there was a lot of clatter and groaning when the pads hit home on the twin discs. Sounded like something was about to break up. I pushed and pulled, ended up with the Duke falling off its sidestand, whacking down on the plastic which immediately splintered.
It was only when I tried to pull the Duke up that I realised what a heavy bugger it was. 465lbs dry, maybe 500bs when full of oil, petrol and water. The low, narrow bars made it difficult to gain leverage and I only righted the beast after pulling a back muscle. A week later I could walk again....
After patching up the plastic with a GRP kit, I sprayed the calipers with WD40. I don't know if you're supposed to do this or not, but it freed off the sliders, removed the noises and made the front end feel like it'd been rebuilt. At around a quid a can WD40's brilliant stuff. The rear disc was permanently seized and remained so even when the rest of the can of WD40 was emptied over it.
The 888 claimed a 100 horses at 9000 revs from the modern incarnation of Ducati's vee-twin, an engine that lost the functional attractiveness of the old air-cooled unit in favour of watercooling and four valves per cylinder. The 888 comes from its cubic capacity, a result of a massively oversquare configuration, 94x64mm bore and stroke.
Any bike, even a heavy old bus like the 888, with a 100 horses to hand is going to be fast but what I didn't expect was the way the power punched in from as low as 2000 revs. Short stroke engines with highly efficient cylinder heads often behave in this way, grinding into the dust all those tales of British big thumpers with enough torque to pull a caravan.
The previous owner had fitted a quick action twistgrip, the merest hint of throttle causing the plot to shoot off up the street like the hounds of hell were after us. I could've done without that, for though the power delivery was undoubtedly fluid, it was very intense and difficult to control. Until I'd adapted to the throttle, progress was a series of lurches that did as little for my ego as it did for the transmission.
Clutches on Ducatis are notoriously fragile, slipping mine soon had the unit overheating turning town riding into a desperate business. Neutral was elusive (none of the idiot lights worked and I'd been warned it wasn't worth replacing them because they would just blow again), holding the clutch lever in at a crossing, the bike suddenly leapt forward as the clutch gave up. Peds were scattered every which way but I didn't hit anyone. I scampered off before a lynching party could be formed. Once the engine cooled the clutch went back to working normally.
Town riding could rapidly turn into hell because the steering lock was minimal, the front brake vicious, the riding position positively painful below 100mph and chassis moved with the same kind agility as a slug crawling over wet cement. When it was introduced, the 888 was marketed as a racer with lights, so these minor tribulations were expected and easily forgiven in exchange for the open road ecstasy. That was the theory, anyway.
The Duke has a tubular frame with lots of cross-triangulation, using the engine as a stressed member, that's immensely strong and reasonably light. With so much power churning through the chassis Ducati chose slow turning geometry in exchange for straight line stability, that left the ride very reassuring at 150mph! Oh yes, this was one fast red motorcycle but it left me straining at the effort needed to whip through a series of bends. A training period on a 1200cc Gold Wing would doubtless be helpful. I suspect that Ducati, used to designing lightweight bikes, hadn't quite come to grips with sheer mass of the 888.
I cursed this recalcitrance some three months into the exploration of the Duke's abilities. I was howling along at about 70mph down some country roads, with a nubile writhing around on the minimal pillion pad, when some lout on a tractor appeared out of nowhere. Trying to steer the 888 with the brakes screaming, and the forks down on their stops, was more like fighting an overloaded wheelbarrow than a piece of high tech, precision engineering.
By the time the speed was down to about 30mph, the bike was totally out of control and it was only by a piece of extreme good fortune that I missed the front of the tractor. Instead we piled off the road, whacked into a stone wall that was so old it took some of the shock by exploding. The tractor was last seen disappearing down the road, the yokel laughing loudly. I couldn't give chase because the wheel was cracked and the fork legs had snapped off.
The bike was carted back to the house in several pieces after my father was summoned in a relation's Bedford van. Over the next seven months the bike sulked in the garage whilst I saved my pennies by riding to work on an MZ 251. Salvation came in the form of a front end from a newish bike that had blown its crankshaft, a rare event resultant from over-revving during a proddie race. You can ruin Ducati engines by running them on old oil, but clutch aside they are pretty tough. I also picked up a good fairing, as mine had cracked up where I'd repaired it.
The front tyre was thinner than the old one, looking so skimpy that I thought it very doubtful but I couldn't be bothered changing them over. I didn't like the upside- down forks that much, they seemed to pogo-stick much more than the old forks but the narrower front tyre made the steering significantly faster. The bike no longer felt like an alternative to a work out with a Bullworker.
The summer of '93 was ruined somewhat by a consumption of spark plugs that would've annoyed even Kawasaki H1 owners. About 200 miles a set, the kind of mileage I could do in a couple of hours. The plugs showed no signs of oiling up so I tried a set of used coils to no effect. With 27000 miles on the clock the electronic ignition unit went in the middle of the Hampshire countryside. That was the end of the summer for me, the bike spending another six months off the road whilst I saved up for a new unit.
The Duke wasn't that expensive to run, fuel at 45 to 50mpg, tyres about 6000 miles a set for Michelins (£200 a pair, though), pads at 12000 miles and an O-ring chain every 9000 miles. Servicing I leave to a back street mechanic who just happens to be a Ducati enthusiast and rides a 450 single. I reckon if he can keep that on the road, he should be able to sort just about anything.
The 888 always feels better after a service, the power coming in especially hard around 6500 revs when it's like being kicked in the stomach, leaving any girl on the pillion clinging on desperately, the musky scent of sexual need streaming off her. The bike's highly horny in more ways than one.
The addictive nature of the pillion meant that the plastic surround started cracking up, early in the summer of 1994 with about 32000 miles on the clock. I bought another GRP kit before the whole thing fell apart and deposited the frail on her arse on the tarmac. This repair was temporary because the cracks came back. I went wild by buying a carbon fibre tail unit at over a hundred notes. Money well spent as I wasn't going to forgo the pleasures of taking young ladies on the back.
Less easily fixed was the electric starter burning out, which had me off the road for two weeks whilst it was rebuilt.....there were absolutely none available on the used market, a comment on their reliability. I always sprayed all the electrics with WD40 every month and went over the connectors, replacing a couple that had gone loose or corroded. Time well spent as I had few of the electrical troubles that are endemic to old Ducatis.
Now the old girl has done 35000 miles. The power is still immensely strong, so impressive that I'm not interested in buying any other bike (except maybe a 916), and so emphatic that it makes young girls wilt completely. The steering's as stable as they come but the flickability's hard going until you develop muscles in the right place. The clutch's in need of a rebuild, the electrics could turn dubious at any time and the finish would be poor had not I replaced all the plastic along the way.
None of that matters to a Ducati enthusiast, whether it's one of the modern bikes or some seventies antique, they get to you after a while and are hard to shake off. Most 888 owners want to buy a 916, which means there are a few of the former on the market at reasonable prices, but at £5000 to £7500 for something good they ain't exactly cheap transport. Add in the fun factor and they become a bargain!
Richie Brown
****************************************************
The year was 1992, I had a pile of dosh to spend on my favourite pastime and a yearning for something Italian and bright red. When a 1990 888 Ducati turned up in the local rag I was on the phone in an instant. Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the seat playing with the throttle. The modified, straight through exhaust made a glorious vee-twin growl that had sold the bike even before I had a test blast.
The next day I was cursing the front end. Every time I used the front brake, there was a lot of clatter and groaning when the pads hit home on the twin discs. Sounded like something was about to break up. I pushed and pulled, ended up with the Duke falling off its sidestand, whacking down on the plastic which immediately splintered.
It was only when I tried to pull the Duke up that I realised what a heavy bugger it was. 465lbs dry, maybe 500bs when full of oil, petrol and water. The low, narrow bars made it difficult to gain leverage and I only righted the beast after pulling a back muscle. A week later I could walk again....
After patching up the plastic with a GRP kit, I sprayed the calipers with WD40. I don't know if you're supposed to do this or not, but it freed off the sliders, removed the noises and made the front end feel like it'd been rebuilt. At around a quid a can WD40's brilliant stuff. The rear disc was permanently seized and remained so even when the rest of the can of WD40 was emptied over it.
The 888 claimed a 100 horses at 9000 revs from the modern incarnation of Ducati's vee-twin, an engine that lost the functional attractiveness of the old air-cooled unit in favour of watercooling and four valves per cylinder. The 888 comes from its cubic capacity, a result of a massively oversquare configuration, 94x64mm bore and stroke.
Any bike, even a heavy old bus like the 888, with a 100 horses to hand is going to be fast but what I didn't expect was the way the power punched in from as low as 2000 revs. Short stroke engines with highly efficient cylinder heads often behave in this way, grinding into the dust all those tales of British big thumpers with enough torque to pull a caravan.
The previous owner had fitted a quick action twistgrip, the merest hint of throttle causing the plot to shoot off up the street like the hounds of hell were after us. I could've done without that, for though the power delivery was undoubtedly fluid, it was very intense and difficult to control. Until I'd adapted to the throttle, progress was a series of lurches that did as little for my ego as it did for the transmission.
Clutches on Ducatis are notoriously fragile, slipping mine soon had the unit overheating turning town riding into a desperate business. Neutral was elusive (none of the idiot lights worked and I'd been warned it wasn't worth replacing them because they would just blow again), holding the clutch lever in at a crossing, the bike suddenly leapt forward as the clutch gave up. Peds were scattered every which way but I didn't hit anyone. I scampered off before a lynching party could be formed. Once the engine cooled the clutch went back to working normally.
Town riding could rapidly turn into hell because the steering lock was minimal, the front brake vicious, the riding position positively painful below 100mph and chassis moved with the same kind agility as a slug crawling over wet cement. When it was introduced, the 888 was marketed as a racer with lights, so these minor tribulations were expected and easily forgiven in exchange for the open road ecstasy. That was the theory, anyway.
The Duke has a tubular frame with lots of cross-triangulation, using the engine as a stressed member, that's immensely strong and reasonably light. With so much power churning through the chassis Ducati chose slow turning geometry in exchange for straight line stability, that left the ride very reassuring at 150mph! Oh yes, this was one fast red motorcycle but it left me straining at the effort needed to whip through a series of bends. A training period on a 1200cc Gold Wing would doubtless be helpful. I suspect that Ducati, used to designing lightweight bikes, hadn't quite come to grips with sheer mass of the 888.
I cursed this recalcitrance some three months into the exploration of the Duke's abilities. I was howling along at about 70mph down some country roads, with a nubile writhing around on the minimal pillion pad, when some lout on a tractor appeared out of nowhere. Trying to steer the 888 with the brakes screaming, and the forks down on their stops, was more like fighting an overloaded wheelbarrow than a piece of high tech, precision engineering.
By the time the speed was down to about 30mph, the bike was totally out of control and it was only by a piece of extreme good fortune that I missed the front of the tractor. Instead we piled off the road, whacked into a stone wall that was so old it took some of the shock by exploding. The tractor was last seen disappearing down the road, the yokel laughing loudly. I couldn't give chase because the wheel was cracked and the fork legs had snapped off.
The bike was carted back to the house in several pieces after my father was summoned in a relation's Bedford van. Over the next seven months the bike sulked in the garage whilst I saved my pennies by riding to work on an MZ 251. Salvation came in the form of a front end from a newish bike that had blown its crankshaft, a rare event resultant from over-revving during a proddie race. You can ruin Ducati engines by running them on old oil, but clutch aside they are pretty tough. I also picked up a good fairing, as mine had cracked up where I'd repaired it.
The front tyre was thinner than the old one, looking so skimpy that I thought it very doubtful but I couldn't be bothered changing them over. I didn't like the upside- down forks that much, they seemed to pogo-stick much more than the old forks but the narrower front tyre made the steering significantly faster. The bike no longer felt like an alternative to a work out with a Bullworker.
The summer of '93 was ruined somewhat by a consumption of spark plugs that would've annoyed even Kawasaki H1 owners. About 200 miles a set, the kind of mileage I could do in a couple of hours. The plugs showed no signs of oiling up so I tried a set of used coils to no effect. With 27000 miles on the clock the electronic ignition unit went in the middle of the Hampshire countryside. That was the end of the summer for me, the bike spending another six months off the road whilst I saved up for a new unit.
The Duke wasn't that expensive to run, fuel at 45 to 50mpg, tyres about 6000 miles a set for Michelins (£200 a pair, though), pads at 12000 miles and an O-ring chain every 9000 miles. Servicing I leave to a back street mechanic who just happens to be a Ducati enthusiast and rides a 450 single. I reckon if he can keep that on the road, he should be able to sort just about anything.
The 888 always feels better after a service, the power coming in especially hard around 6500 revs when it's like being kicked in the stomach, leaving any girl on the pillion clinging on desperately, the musky scent of sexual need streaming off her. The bike's highly horny in more ways than one.
The addictive nature of the pillion meant that the plastic surround started cracking up, early in the summer of 1994 with about 32000 miles on the clock. I bought another GRP kit before the whole thing fell apart and deposited the frail on her arse on the tarmac. This repair was temporary because the cracks came back. I went wild by buying a carbon fibre tail unit at over a hundred notes. Money well spent as I wasn't going to forgo the pleasures of taking young ladies on the back.
Less easily fixed was the electric starter burning out, which had me off the road for two weeks whilst it was rebuilt.....there were absolutely none available on the used market, a comment on their reliability. I always sprayed all the electrics with WD40 every month and went over the connectors, replacing a couple that had gone loose or corroded. Time well spent as I had few of the electrical troubles that are endemic to old Ducatis.
Now the old girl has done 35000 miles. The power is still immensely strong, so impressive that I'm not interested in buying any other bike (except maybe a 916), and so emphatic that it makes young girls wilt completely. The steering's as stable as they come but the flickability's hard going until you develop muscles in the right place. The clutch's in need of a rebuild, the electrics could turn dubious at any time and the finish would be poor had not I replaced all the plastic along the way.
None of that matters to a Ducati enthusiast, whether it's one of the modern bikes or some seventies antique, they get to you after a while and are hard to shake off. Most 888 owners want to buy a 916, which means there are a few of the former on the market at reasonable prices, but at £5000 to £7500 for something good they ain't exactly cheap transport. Add in the fun factor and they become a bargain!
Richie Brown