Ugly Ducks
UGLY DUCKS
Confessions from the Ducati Orphanage
PETER JONES
When I think of Ducati’s long history of sexy, smart motorcycles, I’m reminded of Isadora Duncan (she was a hot babe during the early 1900s) reportedly saying to George Bernard Shaw (a brilliant writer and ugly sot of the same period), “You and I should have a child because with my looks and your brains, think of how grand it would be.”
Ducatis possess exactly that perfect mix of bodacious and brilliant genes. They tend to win the bathing suit competition and the talent show. They’re passion and performance; the proverbial total package.
As the story goes, after hearing her excited come-on, ol’
G.B. responded to Ms.
Duncan, “But, my dear, imagine if our child ended up with your brains and my looks?”
Which was a polite way of saying, “stupid and ugly.” The double-curse.
If we continue applying this line of thought, we’d be led to wonder if Ducati’s genes ever mixed badly. If Ducati has any children banished from its family tree.
Yup. Two.
Hidden in Ducati’s past are two particularly double-cursed bikes: the 860 GT and 500 GTL, each born in the mid-1970s.
And each of them fully embodies Shaw’s worst fears. I wish I could say I know only of these two bikes through that same cursory curiosity basic to every motorcycle enthusiast. Sometimes I wake in a sweat in the middle of the night wishing that. But no,
I know of those bikes, intimately, because I owned one of each. I’m not sure what that says about me. I am sure I’m not going to ponder what that says about me.
The 860 GT was conceived as an economical Ducati that would expand the company’s American market share. It was the classic mistake of allowing bean-counters to have a say in product design. The thought was, let’s have a world-famous car designer show us the way to big cash, rather than let a bike designer create something from the passion of his heart. So the shape of the 860 GT was created by Giorgetto Giugiaro’s ItalDesign. He is who designed the Volkswagen Golf, which at last count has sold over 25 million units. But, as we know, cars for the proletariat and motorcycles for the passionate are two very different things.
Following Giugiaro’s aesthetic of the day, the 860 is all crisp edges and flat surfaces. The fuel tank looks like a suitcase.
Worse yet, the engine’s cases were redesigned to match the bodywork, so they are square. The bike, as a whole, looks like a failed origami project.
The second half of the 860’s double-curse is found in its cylinder heads, which were lobotomized at birth. It’s a-hide the children—springer! Eek! There could be no worse sacrilege to Ducati’s distinctive heritage than building an engine without desmodromic valve actuation (750 GT lovers, hold your letters).
Wait a minute, I take that back. There is one worse. We’ll get to it shortly.
Desmodromic is not only fun to say but has a revered engineering elegance of craft. Ducati enthusiasts have drawings of desmo drives hanging in their homes. They wear T-shirts emblazoned with it. It’s the secret password to the exclusive club of Ducatisti. So, for many Ducati enthusiasts, the 860 GT is simply not a Ducati. It doesn’t exist.
Which brings us to the horrid and terrifying story of the Ducati 500 GTL, the most un-Ducati Ducati of all. Readers are cautioned, the following paragraphs contain disturbing and graphic
descriptions that might offend sensitive enthusiasts.
The creation of the 500 GTL was the result of taking the plan to build an economical Ducati to its desperate conclusion. It’s a “small” Ducati (sic) powered by a 497cc parallel-Twin springer engine. Absent from the bike was everything that makes a Ducati a Ducati: no 90-degree V-Twin, no desmo drive, no good looks and no valid claim of Italy being its country of origin of manufacture. Wait a minute, did I admit
to owning one of these things?
The styling of the 500 GTL was borrowed directly from the 860, all sharp folded edges and luggage-like. As for the engine, word is Fabio Taglioni, Ducati’s master engine designer, was asked to design the 500 GTLs powerplant. He refused. So its design and construction were given to a manufacturer in a nameless country. All right, Spain. Let the blame fall where it should.
Taglioni’s snub aside, there can be some charm to a parallelTwin engine. But the 500 GTLs design was masterfully flawed.
So flawed, there’s fair chance not a single one is still running today. The primary cause of catastrophic failure was the camshaft. Engine oil ran through it and out the lobes to lubricate the point of contact with the rocker arms. The cams were hollow with aluminum caps stamped into each end to trap the oil. As any junior engineer knows, steel and aluminum have different expansion rates when heated. So, after time, with all of that incompatible shifting of surfaces, the caps would fall out, the oil would run out, the cam would go dry, allowing nasty and instant wear of the lobes and rockers. The engines would actually keep running for a while like that; just long enough for some fool who never does his homework to hear the bike run and buy it, thinking he has discovered a rare and desirable piece of engineering history.
What was my life like with those bikes? I replaced all of the bodywork on my 860 GT with replica Super Sport fiberglass.
Then I fell while riding it, put it in storage for 15 years and finally sold it. I opened the top of my 500 GTL a few days after buying it. Seeing the damage, I started looking for parts and was told by nearly everyone I spoke with not to spend another dime on the bike. After a couple years, I gave it away. I gave it to the friend who suggested I buy it. I forgave him his crime, just as he has forgiven me mine, and we should forgive Ducati theirs.
Ducati 860 GT and 500 GTL? Never happened.
