January 6, 2002
By Dave Abrahams

Not all Ducatis are razor-edged race bikes. My first Ducati was a 1979 900GTS, a big, lazy honey of a sports tourer with impeccable road manners and it took me everywhere for four years (it’s now on its fourth owner and still going strong).

Ironically, I saw it for the first time 15 years at the recent Beaver Rally – and I was there on Ducati’s latest all-rounder, the superbly competent ST4.

The ST4 is based on the early-series 916 motor, tuned for 77kW at a low (by racing standards!) 9000rpm, with maximum torque of 89Nm being delivered at 7500 revs. It was introduced in 1994 and established once and for all the credentials of the big V-twin as a sport bike engine and has spawned an entire generation of world-beating motors, up to and including the current 998cc Testastressa.

It’s tuned for grunt this time; as soon as the bottom-end power-thudding (inherent in any motorcycle engine featuring just two pistons of 94mm diameter) has smoothed out – at about 3000rpm - it’s ready to haul.

Throughout the mid-range the power delivery is smooth, almost vibration-free and effortlessly muscular. Throttle response is instantaneous, as it should be with any competent fuel-injection system, but acceleration is unremarkable for a big twin; the bike feels just a little lazy.

I said lazy, not slow; it cruises without fuss at 160km/h and will hold its speed up quite steep hills without opening the throttle further.

Then you hit 7000rpm and are suddenly reminded that you are sitting on the most successful racing motor of its time. The whole bike transmits a sharp-edged vibration as it seems to jump towards the horizon; I got a clear impression of the steering getting very light for a moment - in top gear.

Kick it down a gear or two and give it a handful and you can forget the “sports-tourer” tag – this is a serious performance machine. In high-speed testing I saw 255km/h on the clock at just over 8500rpm, with a little more to come. Keep it between 6500 and 9500rpm through the gears and there’s nothing in its class that’ll stay with it.

The rest of drive train is pure 916, starting with the only multiplate dry clutch in series production. Treat it with respect and it stays smooth and very decisive on take-up, but it rapidly gets very grabby if abused and a few ham-fisted full-power launches will soon have you heading off to your local Ducati dealer for new plates.

That said, the test bike had stood up to 11000km of the worst that South African journalists could throw at it and there was no clutch slip; it might not be as delicate as its reputation. The hydraulic clutch pull is smooth but heavy; not an issue on a race-replica but it makes the ST4 a bit of a pain in traffic.

Ducati gearboxes are among the best in the world, and this one is no exception; the shift is light, the lever throw short by street-bike standards. It’s noisy at low revs, as are all heavy-duty boxes, but as slick as melting ice in the power band.

Upshifts are also much better without the clutch, not unusual for a Ducati. I didn’t make a habit of changing down without the clutch (out of respect for the enormous compression braking developed by the motor on overrun) but with the revs perfectly matched I did get a couple of seamless downshifts just when I needed them.

There’s also remarkably little snatch in the final drive, apart from a typically Ducati-esque clonk when taking up the power in first.

The ST4’s frame is based on the original 851 chassis but the rear subframe has been considerably extended and beefed up to cope with the extra weight of pillion and luggage. The subframe isn’t separate, as is often the case with comparable models from other marques, but forms an integral part of the design.

The frame is welded up from thin-walled tubes of ALS450 alloy steel and fully triangulated in almost every direction with the rigidly mounted engine acting as a stressed member in the crucial center section. Surprisingly, it’s no heavier (and less bulky) than the twin-spar alloy chassis which have become the industry standard.

The swing arm, as with all Ducatis since the Pantah of 1977, pivots on the back of the gearbox, and reduces the variation in chain tension caused by rear suspension movement.

The ST4 runs on top-drawer suspension, with a pair of fully adjustable 43mm Showa upside-downies doing duty at the front. I left them on the factory’s median setting, the sporty side of firm, to counteract a slightly wavery feel in the front end that turned out to have been caused by soft tyres.

They soaked up all the inequalities of a long trip in the country, telling me all about them without transmitting them straight to my spine, as did the Sachs monoshock, set really firm to cope well with a weekend’s worth of luggage. Relaxing the tensions induced a slight pitching which did not augur well for the high-speed twisties so I returned to the as-issued settings – a good compromise between comfort and chassis tautness.

The front stoppers – Brembo four-pot Goldline callipers on 320mm discs – had all the power I could ask for but were hampered by excessive lever movement, high lever pressure and lack of feel. Once I learned to trust them I was able to indulge in some seriously late braking; the front suspension is at its best when slightly loaded and the transition from power-off to positive throttle is smooth and predictable.

No amount of acquaintance could improve the rear brake, though. It’s a twin-piston calliper on a 245mm disc, with an awkward horizontal master cylinder; I couldn’t get much retardation out of it no matter how hard I stood on the cute little rear-facing lever. It’s just about good enough for hill starts, but that’s about it.

Brembo brakes, even when using identical callipers, vary enormously from model to model due, I suspect, to the size and type of master cylinder specified. Brake hop-up kits for Italian bikes always include an upgraded master cylinder, sometimes nothing else, so if hair-trigger brakes are important to you, fit your ST4 with a radial master cylinder and racing-spec brake pads and it’ll pull one-finger stoppies with the best of them.

I don’t think your average braking distance will improve very much, though.

The seating position is a compromise between upright cruising and head-down hooliganising, as it must be for this type of machine, but it’s a good balance in several ways. The handgrips are higher than the top of the fuel tank and not too far away from the nose of the seat, allowing for a relaxed position around town, while allowing the rider to lean into the wind on the open road.

The footpegs are a little too far forward to make a racing crouch comfortable for very long but are very relaxed for less intense riding. The well-padded seat is broad and flat; it comes closer to the accolade of “all-day comfort” than any previous offering from Bologna. The passenger footpegs are also relatively low, complimenting the soft, wide pillion, although the grab-rail is a bit too far back to be much use.

The fascia is an odd mix of digital and analogue. The rev-counter – sans red line – sits front and centre, the speedo offset left. The five warning lights are right at the top of the panel, as close as possible to the rider’s sight line, while right at the bottom is a big rectangular liquid crystal display, dominated by a clumsy bar-graph fuel gauge.

There’s also a clock and engine coolant temperature read-out.

The switchgear is the familiar (and very high quality) CEV stuff built in Italy for Honda and used by almost everyone in the industry. It’s delightfully positive in action and holds no surprises.

The smooth, unadorned lines of the body panels bear the unmistakable signature of South African styling maestro Pierre Terblanche; organic curves, with nary a straight line in sight and a minimum of graphics, all in plain silver on the trademark scarlet base. The body-coloured mirrors are mounted on rather ungainly, long black stems which make them considerably more effective than the tucked-in little apologies found on most sport bikes.

The slightly flipped-up screen is comfortable without the rider being crouched up to well over 200km/h.

The ST4 is available with custom-made, colour-coded panniers and top box, and to accommodate them the passenger footpegs are provided with two silencer mounting points, about 30mm apart. Bolting the pipes to the higher mounting increases ground clearance for fast cornering, while the lower position allows the fitting of the luggage for longer trips.

We weren’t supplied with luggage for the test bike, the pipes stayed in the higher position and certainly neither test rider managed to scrape anything.

The handling of the ST4 is best described as neutral; without any kind of steering damper it’s as stable as a rock even on bumpy corners, its wheelbase is short for a long-hauler at 1430mm and it turns in seemingly without any effort on the part of the rider.

Like the original Pantah, it goes where you look. I took it out for an overnight trip in the country, accompanied by my partner on her Triumph Sprint Sport. On the way up we cruised at 140km/h, effortlessly humming through the bends of one of our favourite roads, but coming back on a perfect Sunday morning I began powering hard out of the corners, loading the suspension and keeping the engine in its power band.

The bike tautened up and delivered ride and road-holding more precise than I expected from an all-rounder though the steering wasn’t as razor-blade accurate as the 916; that’s an unfair comparison - nothing is. Only at the bike’s limits does the essential compromise inherent in the “sports-tourer” geometry become apparent as the front end gets a little wavery over 200km/h.

This characteristic improved immensely after I checked and corrected the tyre pressures which had been set a little lower than factory specs when we collected the bike. This points up the only shortcomings in the ST4 chassis package: it’s inordinately sensitive to tyre pressures and crosswinds. ST4 owners would do well to carry a good-quality pocket tyre pressure gauge and use it frequently.

The ST4 is Bologna’s most successful long-distance express yet, seamlessly combining touring comfort, sure-footed sports handling and race-track performance. It immediately joins the Honda VFR800 and the Triumph Sprint in the exclusive ranks of the world’s great all-rounders; nothing else comes near to this level of sheer competence – and of the three the Ducati is the best canyon-carver.

Why are we not surprised?

Thanks to Ashley Baud at Ducati Cape Town for letting us take his ST4 on tour. A new one will cost R95 000.
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SPECIFICATIONS
DUCATI ST4

Motor: Liquid-cooled four-stroke 90-degree L-twin.
Capacity: 916cc
Bore x stroke: 94 x 66mm.
Valvegear: DOHC with four desmodromic valves per cylinder.
Compression ratio: 11:1.
Power: 77kW @ 9000rpm.
Torque: 89Nm @ 7500rpm.
Induction: Marelli electronic fuel injection, with two 50mm throttle bodies.
Ignition: Electronic.
Starting: Electric.
Clutch: hydraulically actuated dry multi-plate clutch.
Transmission: Six-speed gearbox with chain final drive.
Suspension: 43mm Showa upside-down cartridge forks adjustable for preload, compression and rebound damping at front, progressive linkage with Sachs monoshock adjustable for preload, compression and rebound damping at rear.
Brakes: 320mm semi-floating discs with Brembo four-pot opposed piston callipers at front, 245mm disc with Brembo opposed piston calliper at rear.
Tyres: Front: 120/70-ZR17 tubeless. Rear: 180/55-ZR17 tubeless.
Wheelbase: 1430m.
Seat height: 820mm.
Dry weight: 215kg.
Fuel capacity: 21 litres.
Price: R95 000.

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