Ducati 900SS FE
The FE stands for 'Final Edition', and the 900SS FE was a last special production run of the old carburettor-equipped SS before it was replaced in 1998. Based around the 900SS Superlight, the FE had special cosmetics, a tuned engine, and elegant chassis changes. The special silver single-seat bodywork was wrapped around a modified engine, with race-style high-level exhaust pipes. The front brakes have cast-iron racing discs and the black wheels are lightweight. A carbon-fibre clock surround, chainguard, mudguard and body panels complete the high spec. The FE's performance was only slightly improved over the standard bike, and it was really intended as a special celebration of the old model. Only 800 were produced. Limited to just 300 bikes in North America, the 900SS FE is the last of the 2nd generation SuperSports to be produced by the Bologna factory.
Road Test hen It's good, it's fantastico. When it's bad, who cares? The eappuecino-maker hum/ gurgle from somewhere within the fuel tank might unsettle the average Saturn-owning, low-fat/high-fiber-ingesting, "rational" human. We jus link it's cool. We're fine with the silver Duck's cantankerous starting ritual too. Even warm mornings. Even with the new carb heaters, we know the air-cooled, desmo-due twin demands full-choke, followed by half-choke, followed by much positive thinking and an attentive throttle hand before 'the internal-combustion process begins in earnest. We turn a deaf ear on percussive pops and coughs from the airbox. We ignore a stiff clutch-pull and a near-stadium-sized turning radius that rakes knuckles against fairing exiting the driveway. The aforementioned Saturn-owning neighbors witness the spit-cough-stall morning ritual. They question our sanity and yet we care not. To own this motorcycle is to be a master of creative rationalization. To those who willingly suffer "modern" indignities like Windows 95, automatic transmissions and white zinfandel, the Ducati's dysfunctional behaviors are flaws. To once and future Ducatisti, they're simply the undeniable signatures of the 900SS's purosangue persona: a small price to pay for the pure sporting brilliance that will flow like a Verdi aria through the first set of curves. That monoposto saddle comes from the fabled 1992 900 Superlight, as do the high-mount mufflers. Sharp eyes will notice a new fairing duct designed to aim air at the rear cylinder. Mechanical changes for 1998 are minor. There's a new 520-watt alternator and matching voltage regulator. New cylinder castings route hot oil from the heads back to the engine's wet sump via internal oil-return galleries instead of the old external lines. Deeper finning is news on the motor's exterior. New pistons fitted with more durable rings reside within, though status quo 92.0 x 68.0mm bore and stroke dimensions add up to the time-honored 904cc total (the same as the new fuel-injected engine inside the reborn 900SS slated to surface late this summer). The investment value of one-in-300 exclusivity remains to be seen. Most everything else about the FE is blue-chip to anyone familiar with the 900SS that opened to U.S. audiences late in '91. The essence of what your $10,999 buys now has changed little from what $8490 bought back then. For any soulless infidels in the audience who still don't understand why Chianti lives under a cork instead of a threaded cap, we'll cut to the chase. Will Honda's Super Hawk or Suzuki's TL1000S beat any off-the-shelf SS through your favorite set of curves? Like a gong. Is it fast? Tripping the quarter-mile timing lights at 11.88 seconds and 110.10 miles per hour, not particularly. Tall gearing lets the venerable mill fairly loaf along at freeway speeds in sixth gear, Conspiring with the 90-degree "L" twin's perfect primary balance, that tall gearing makes for a fairly smooth freeway ride. The narrow, thinly padded solo seat gets on your nether nerves after 100 miles. Shaky mirrors turn trailing traffic into a blurry mess, the dry clutch is a stiff pull at the lever and gets grabby in tight traffic. Stiff suspension will whip your liver to pate after an hour's worth of diabolical The Final Edition, its fathers and even its bevel-driven desmo grandfathers stand guilty on all counts. Yet, for some at least, it just doesn't matter. Once the engine actually warms up, subliminal messages carefully engineered into the EPA-emasculated exhaust note can warp even the most rational Yankee thought patterns. "I am descended from Spaggiari and am secretly faster than Fogarty...supermodels undress me with their eyes...size doesn't matter..." Call it irrational. Call it delusional, but beware. Any nonlinear-thinking, creative-type human mind is susceptible to the desmo's aural brainwashing. Flaws become character. Freeways and constipated surface streets submerge beneath the Ducati's sporting dignity, and all that matters is tracing as many gnarly little Toss it back and forth between your knees at a stoplight and the 900 feels lighter, skinnier, stubbier and stiffer than Honda's VTR or Suzuki's TL because it is: 22 pounds lighter than the Honda and 19 pounds lighter than the Suzuki. Tossing it into a decreasing-radius left requires a healthy push on the narrow, overly rear-swept handlebars. Still, progress from straight-up to cranked-over happens in a hurry once you learn how. Two clues: Those pukka, highboy mufflers squelch more desmo exhaust music than they should, but they also tuck in well enough to let you feather the plenty-sticky D204 Sportmax radials to the edges. The marvelously stiff trellis steel frame remains an elegantly effective alternative to fat slabs of extruded aluminum. It also makes most engine maintenance chores a whole lot easier once the fairing is peeled away. Springs are stiffer at both ends than analogous Japanese twins, and there's enough feedback to let you know precisely what's happening at the contact patches. Perhaps too precisely. Over relatively smooth, well-kept tarmac, that unfiltered road feedback lets you carve corners like a sharp knife through prosciutto. But on the El Nino-ravaged California backroads for which our FE yearns, its suspenders lack the damping sophistication of those under something like Suzuki's latest GSX-R750. Midcorner bumps rattle the silver Duck's composure and yours for a second, but the full 4.0 inches of trail figured into the steering geometry to buffer a relatively steep 25-degree rake calms things down almost as quickly in most cases. A full arsenal of compression, rebound and spring preload adjusters lets anyone with simple hand tools and some working knowledge of suspension tune in a precise sporting ride, but not a plush one. "Plush is for weaklings, capisce?" Stiff springs and aggressive damping rates mean the Duck is happiest going fast on relatively smooth pavement. Even on the smoothest, fastest stuff, quad-pot Brembo rotors and That would be up to you. Ask any Ducatisti worthy of the tag about the 900's modest herd of ponies. "Sure it's not so fast now, but just bolt up some carbs and cams, high-compression pistons and an exhaust system and you'll be saying 'ciao' to those Oriental twins in no time." There lies the difference. Straddle the FE or any Ducati and one thing is instantly clear: You're straddling something produced by passionate flesh and blood more than CAD/CAM software and marketing focus groups. Still don't get it? Here's a simple test. If you've come this far and still figure anybody who would lay out 11-large for an aging, 70-horse, air-cooled twin should be measured for an Armani strait-jacket, perhaps you should unscrew the top on some 1998 white zinfandel and ogle air bags in a Saturn brochure. Source 1998 MOTORCYCLIST S |