My time with the Panigale did not go as planned . At all . Instead of my usual “ Ride it around some , go about your normal business , find some empty road , see what happens ” stuff , things went a different way . No-one was more surprised than me . I had already told myself I would struggle on the Panigale . I ain ’ t no superbike rider . I certainly have no business bellying up to this … this … impossible Italian fiesta of firepower . What the Hell am I gonna even do with 214-horsepower , 124Nm , and 175kg of computer-assisted , devil-red rage and rat-bastardry ?
CHEST BEATER In pre-season MotoGP tests , this thing had just lapped Jerez a scant two-seconds slower than a bloody MotoGP bike . Ducati boss , Claudio Domenicali , was grinning so hard I thought his head would split open . I don ’ t blame him for beating his chest and making war noises . A production bike – albeit in the hands of apex-predator riders
– lapping within two-eye blinks of a milliondollar prototype race bike ? What the Hell is that even ? And what possible business had I with it ? None , one would think . Except , as it turns out , I had every business parking my belly on its tank , leaning forward to grab the wide clip-ons , and turning the black thing on the right . Those numbers above ? I figured I ’ d just ride them – as hard as I could . I decided , early on in the piece , to roll the devil ’ s dice and hope the Highway Patrol was elsewhere when the numbers made their meaning clear . And the clarity they provided was very clear the moment I ’ d left Sydney ’ s traffic behind . Up until that point , I was on fire , and not in a good way . But five kays into a deserted mid-week Putty Road , I suddenly understood what those numbers meant .
YOUR NEW SPLIT PERSONALITY The Panigale turned me into a worm . I squirmed and wriggled shamelessly before
48 KIWI RIDER