Call me un-ladylike, but I drooled and gawped at the Bimota stand. It was at last year’s Milan Show, and the bike was the DB6.
A complete lack of fairing showed off beautifully the trellis swingarm and frame, all painted in the fastest colour (red). This set off the minimalist naked bike look to perfection. Even the rear footpeg picked up on the red trellis detail. The neat exhaust downpipes climbed up high out of the way, with the triangular stubby end cans emerging from under the tiny pillion seat. Brembo radial brakes (a must on Italian exotica) were well in sight, while sexy (and machined from solid) aluminium parts were everywhere; around the ignition barrel, on the frame and swingarm. The yokes, handlebar risers and fuel cap were also made of the stuff, while tasteful amounts of carbon fibre formed the pointy rear hugger and chain guard. The large triangular headlamp, tiny triangular mirrors and integrated front indicators complemented the sharp edges and lines of the whole bike – from tank, to tail unit, to belly pan. Even the trellis cut out sharp geometric shapes. And I’m going from memory here, which is quite something since I can barely remember where I dined that night. Or is that down to the Chianti?
Sergio Robbiano designed the new DB6, among other Bimotas before it. The 40ish-year-old is a former apprentice of history’s greatest motorcycle designer (probably), Massimo Tamburini, who created Ducati’s 916 and the current MV Agustas. Tamburini is also one of the original founders of Bimota (he’s the ‘ta’ in Bimota), which he started up after crashing his ill-handling Honda 750 Four at Italy’s Misano racetrack in 1972. In those days, power was everything with little thought spared for handling. Tamburini disagreed with this concept and set about improving chassis components, creating bikes such as the SB2 that was powered by a Suzuki GS750 engine wrapped in a high-spec Bimota frame. At the time the idea was groundbreaking. Although nowadays, Japanese production frames are so good that it’s impossible to improve on them without investing millions in the high-tech equipment used to create them. This forced aftermarket frame builders such as Harris and Spondon to focus their business on other areas.
However, Bimota did build one engine. While strict emissions laws were rapidly putting two-strokes out of business, in 2000 Bimota launched the Robbiano-designed Vdue – a stunning 500cc two-stroke motorcycle that met environmental demands thanks to its Bimota-built direct injection engine. But it never worked, bringing an already fragile Bimota crashing down in the process.
Finally, Bimota was bought by a rich entrepreneur and bike enthusiast in 2003, and began producing once again expensive specialist bikes. The first was the DB5 launched last year. But journalists found a severe fuel injection stutter and panned it – one of the launch DB5s even blew its guts out! So as I admired the stunning looks of the DB6 in Milan, how it would perform never crossed my mind. It probably wouldn’t.
Yet here I am thundering down Rimini’s high street, basking in the sunshine and the admiring looks of passers-by, having just enjoyed a thrilling ride through the twisties of the surrounding hills. And the DB6 I’m straddling never even broke down. Once.
The day began at the tiny Bimota factory in Rimini, the same building used by a young Tamburini all those years ago. With only six test bikes on hand, the 20-odd journos were divided into groups. I cunningly slotted myself into an early morning run – you never know how many
