Accessory Fatigue
Accessory Fatigue
LEANINGS
Peter Egan
SPRING RAINS HAD NOT YET WASHED all the salt off our Wisconsin roads, but I had to go for a ride anyway.
“I can go over the mufflers and wheels with some Windex and a rag later,” I reasoned aloud. “I’m sure that will get all the salt off. In the meantime, I must take this new motorcycle for a ride!” My voice rose in a crescendo of near-madness from cabin fever.
The bike in question was a new/leftover 2001 dark-blue Ducati ST2 that I had just acquired in the most convoluted set of swaps and trades since the creation of the former Yugoslavia.
Essentially, I had decided in some mid-winter mood shift that I had way too many old bikes that Needed Something and decided to roll about three of them into one modern, useable motorcycle whose owner’s manual was unstained by blood and drain-oil fingerprints.
Salvation appeared during a winter visit to Corse Superbikes in Saukville, Wisconsin, where my salesman friend and sometime riding buddy Scott Siem pointed out that they had this very nice, heavily discounted ST2 sitting right there on the showroom floor. Trades accepted.
Truth be told, I had an ST4S in mind, so I did not act immediately. I hadn’t spent more than about 15 minutes on either model of ST, so I made a quick telephone survey of friends who owned them.
There was strong loyalty on both sides. ST2 owners (including CWs Brian Catterson) told me to buy an ST2. “Broader torque band, less shifting, less maintenance, cheaper to buy, sweet-running 944cc water-cooled, two-valve engine-a secret weapon and emerging classic for the motorcyclist of refined judgment,” they said. “Responds beautifully to pipes, air cleaner and chip.”
“Get the ST4S!” said three ST4S owners I know. “How can you argue with an extra 34 bhp, Öhlins shock, lighter wheels, stickier tires and a fully adjustable front fork?”
Actually, my own instinct was to buy an ST4S. When I used to take my 996 track bike on one of its rare Sundaymorning street rides, I’d inevitably say to myself, “If I could have this engine in a slightly more comfortable bike, I’d never stop riding.” Well, the ST4S was Ducati’s answer, with luggage.
Nevertheless, I chose the ST2. Why?
Well, because it was there; because the price was too good to resist; because Ducati’s dark blue is such a nice color even Barb urged me to get the bike; and because I wanted to find out why three or four really good riders I know had found it to be such a satisfying motorcycle.
So the other day I finally took off on the first of several early spring break-in rides, salt be damned. I’ve done just 250 miles so far, still keeping it at the prescribed rpm, so I haven’t really sampled its true potential. Nice bike, though. Light, compact, well-finished, good luggage, instinctive steering and turn-in, taut yet compliant suspension. Very civilized.
Of course, I’ll have to make the usual Ducati changes.
The seat is hard as a rock, so I’ll order a different one right away. The exhaust note isn’t too Lawn-Boyish, but I’ll probably get some slip-ons for better flow and lighter weight. The stock mufflers feel like barbells from the local fitness center.
Then the mandatory performance chip. And, like all Ducatis, this one is geared to the moon. A few more teeth on the rear sprocket would make it nicer everywhere. And the handlebars would benefit from about a 1-inch rise.
But I’ve made none of these changes yet. I like to leave things stock during break-in, as a performance baseline for any future changes. Also, this tactic makes the bike sound cheaper when you tell your wife what you paid for the thing. Costly accessories made of titanium, carbon-fiber, emeralds and gold can be sneaked in later, when things have calmed down.
However, I must say this: I am dragging my feet just a bit on making all these changes. Why?
Perhaps because I have made them too many times in the past 20 years, on too many different bikes. Never mind Ducatis; I could write a chapter on Harleys alone. Accessory Fatigue is setting in.
Sitting on the wide shelf above my garage door at any given time, I generally have at least two sets of perfectly good OEM mufflers, a couple of stock but uncomfortable streetbike seats and a dirtbike tank that’s too small for a decent afternoon loop through the woods.
In a nearby cabinet drawer, you will normally find a couple sets of brandnew, beautifully anodized final-drive sprockets, a few unused drive chains (too short), still with clean, gleaming gold sideplates, a minor collection of carburetor jets, computer chips, air cleaner elements and rejected alternative clip-on handlebars.
Never mind the money that all this stuff cost to replace; think of the waste of human time and perfectly good material. If you melted down the world’s supply of cast-off stock Harley mufflers alone, you could build a fleet of aircraft carriers. With aircraft.
Okay, the pipes I can understand. Manufacturers are stuck with ironclad regulation here. But what about seats, tanks and bars and all the rest?
Perhaps with our new, slower economy, the makers of bikes will eventually try a whole new marketing strategy to draw us into showrooms. Their brochures will proclaim, “Seats you can sit on! Comfortable handlebars! Gearing that makes sense! Tanks that hold enough gas!”
And, if the Feds would back off on the laws just slightly, they could advertise, “Mellow yet inoffensive pipes you can actually hear, jetted just right!”
I don’t expect this to happen soon, so my personal battle to fight waste will consist mostly of buying accessories that could easily be transferred from an ST2 to, say, an ST4S, in case I suddenly find myself unable to live without that extra 34 horsepower. Or the Öhlins shock.
We all do what we can.
