Liquid
cooled, four stroke, longitudinal 60°V twin, DOHC, 4 valves per cylinder
Capacity
997.6
Bore x Stroke
97 x 67.5 mm
Compression Ratio
11.8:1
Induction
Ignition /
Starting
Digital electronic ignition with one spark plug per
cylinder
/ electric
Max Power
138.7 hp 102 kW @ 9500 rpm
Max Torque
10.9 kg-m 107 Nm @ 7500 rpm
Transmission /
Drive
6 Speed / chain
Front Suspension
Öhlins titanium nitride coated 43mm diameter upside-down
fork. 120mm wheel travel. External hydraulic adjustment system for rebound,
compression and preload.
Lowered legs for radial calliper mounting.
Rear Suspension
Double banana aluminium alloy swing arm and APS
progressive system linkage.
Öhlins Racing hydraulic shock absorber with
piggy-back cylinder and adjustable rebound, compression and preload. 133mm
wheel travel.
Aprilia's 1000cc Mille sportbike has been
around for nearly a decade now, yet the Italian company hasn't rested on its
laurels, but spent time and money developing the bike to meet V-twin
competition from Honda, Suzuki and of course, Ducati.
The Mille Factory R for 2005 represents perhaps the ultimate blend of speed,
handling and power that any fast rider could ask for in a 1000cc machine.
With features like USD, Ohlins race specification forks, radial-mounted
callipers on the 320mm Brembo disc brakes,
revised fuel map and a multi-adjustable Ohlins gas nitrogen monoshock.
If all that sounds a bit anorak to you, then obviously this bike isn't going
to be your cup of espresso, because the Mille Factory R is aimed at riders
who want performance above all else. Does it deliver? Yes, it is mindblowing
to ride, but at around £12,000 new, it should be.
TWEAK THE DEVIL'S NOSE
AND RIDE AWAY
The Factory R weighs just 185kgs dry, about
4kgs lighter than a standard Mille, with plenty of carbon fibre bits on the
bike helping to keep the overall weight down. Special parts like the forged
aluminium wheels, one-piece calliper mounts and race suspension are unique
to the Factory R and go some way to justifying the £11,800 price tag.
On the road, the Factory R feels poised, agile and extremely fast - arguably
too quick for public roads jam-packed with mobile-texting drivers,
distracted school run mums or speed camera vans illegally parked on
footpaths. This motorbike was made for the racetrack and it is only when
traffic is freakishly sparse that you feel confident to ride the Aprilia
utilising most of its awesome 170mph performance.
Everything clicks into place on this bike, it feels hand built by race
technicians and is especially good at getting deep into corners, then firing
its skinny self out of them. You can dart and dive through traffic at a
serious pace, making it look all too easy really, upsetting many a hot hatch
git-boy as you pass them.
It also booms and growls away from its 100% stainless steel exhausts as you
breeze along at some ridiculous speed, which all adds to the dark allure of
the Factory R. If someone asked you to sell your soul to own this
motorcycle, you might consider it a bargain.
OK, you can leave your soul with the Snatch West bank or whatever, but the
Factory R does require some sacrifices from the rider.
It isn't very comfortable, the suspension is too harsh for normal,
pothole-strewn roads and many of the cycle parts look so vulnerable to the
average British winter that I would be scared to ride the bike between
October and April. You can also bet your next lotto ticket that the Factory
R will lose about 50% of its brand new value within 3 years of
ownership...if not before. Scary stuff, unless you're so loaded you light
your barbeque with tenners...
One more detail for your accountant; the Factory R drinks fuel like a soap
actress at an awards party. I think it managed 105 miles once before
requiring another £11 worth of unleaded..but 95-ish miles between re-fills
was more typical.
DETAILS MATTER
They do y'know, otherwise we would all wear velour jump suits and no-brand
trainers. The details are what set something apart from imitators, define
its value, badge our aspirations to world.
In that respect, the Factory R ticks all the right boxes. With its clear
plastic indicator lenses, the shark-like edges of its tail section, the
carbon air scoops at the nose and the angry silhouette of a lion's head
raging across the fairing panel, it spells out speed, power and finesse to
anyone bright enough to read the signs.
You would never guess from the attention shown to every fastener, the
luscious paint, the shine from each nut and bolt, that Aprilia were
recovering from a recent bankruptcy. It looks beautifully made and oozes
quality like a leopard emits subdued menace from every sinew. I mean, just
look at that banana sculpted swingarm for god's sake...
OK, so by now you're clear that I liked the bike and think it is damn good
at doing what it says on the tin. Sure, but - and it's a big but - the
Factory R is a harsh, unforgiving sort of beast. It shakes occasionally when
you're accelerating out of a bumpy corner, twitching nervously at the
handlebars as the front tyre leaves the tarmac. It's exciting, but after a
while, you would rather it possessed the inherent, predictable stability of
the GSXR1000, the CBR600RR, or perhaps the slinky, relaxed poise of a Ducati
749.
The Ducati 999 by the way is exactly like the Aprilia - it has too much
grunt for its own good sometimes and unlike professional road racers, I
don't enjoy riding at the very edge of adhesion all the time. The cars,
buses, lorries and drug-addled chav children which pepper the UK streets
demand that any motorcycle rider has some degree of control over the bike, a
margin for the unexpected.
But the Factory R and the 999 Ducati - when ridden hard - are unpredictable
animals. They can catch you out, especially in the wet, with the sheer
piledriver of torquey power they deliver between 4,000-9,000 revs. On a hot
lap of Silverstone, I wouldn't be arsed about the back end stepping slightly
sideways at 60mph, or feeling the `bars flick from my fingertips as I
crossed a huge bump at Knockhill. But on the A41, coming out of a greasy
roundabout near a truckstop, I can do without too much drama.
If I sound like I'm nitpicking, it's because I am. For 95% of the time, the
Factory R is a subtle blend of awesome power and deft chassis control, which
makes you feel so glad to be alive you want to adopt a penguin. But now and
then, it reminds you that it is a pure racer-for-the-road. A moody missile.
The bottom line is that I don't need that much fearsome performance in a
road legal motorcycle, and more importantly, I can get the same exotic
cocktail of adrenaline far cheaper from bikes like the Gixer 1000, the
Kawasaki ZX6-R or say the Aprilia Tuono - which is utterly barking mad.
The Factory R is a great motorcycle, a symphony of speed, but you have to be
a special kind of rider to truly use it...and then, only sparingly. It's too
damn perfect, too beautiful, to waste droning to work along the M56 on a wet
Tuesday.