The Mad Men From Rimini

Way back in the 70s, when things like disco, Boston (the band) and brown were popular, a trio of engineers got together in a shed in the Italian coastal town of Rimini to make motorcycles better.

Boy, did they ever.

What resulted from their efforts were motorcycles that were mad, exotic and expensive.  Everything was handmade to the highest specifications and no idea was too far-fetched.  As with most interesting stories, there is beauty, strife and rebirth.  This is not the story of an ordinary company that faced hard times.  Most companies do.  This is the story of another kind of company; a company built on ambitious engineering and big ideas.

This is the story of Bimota.

Bimota began in 1973 as the brainchild of three engineers: Valerio Bianchi, Guiseppe Morri and Massimo Tamburini.  The combination of their three names gave birth to Bimota - Bianchi, Morri and Tamburini.

The company started out making frames for the ever more powerful motorcycles from Japan.  Honda, Suzuki, Yamaha and Kawasaki were making big power from their four-cylinder engines but their frames were far behind in development.  A combination of poor design and weak material led to interesting handling, especially in Kawasaki's case.  Racing victories ensued, which helped launch Bimota's business.  Frame kits were soon offered to the general public.  Well, those who could afford them, anyway.  Others such as Rickman and Harris from England and Fritz Egli from Switzerland had similar ideas.

What set Bimota apart was their willingness to take risks.  While its competitors were going traditional routes, Bimota was doing things like placing the fuel tank lower in the frame and using monoshock rear suspension.  This may sound quaint by today's standards but this was heady stuff back then.

In the 80s, however, the Japanese started to close in on the Italians in terms of handling.  They were also applying the ideas learned from racing into their road bikes, so once exotic technology was starting to become commonplace.  Justifying an exotic like a Bimota was becoming more difficult.

What Bimota needed was something to make them viable again; something to show the world they were still the leader in exotica.  The first bit of help came in the form of the DB1, their first collaboration with Ducati.  Both companies were in trouble at the time and both needed something new.  Ducati's Pantah engine was surrounded by Bimota frame and then wrapped in all-enclosed bodywork.  The DB1 provided the shot in the arm Bimota needed to stay afloat.

The second bit of help came in the form of Pierluigi Marconi's thesis.

The resulting machine was very similar to the then-current Bimotas.  It had a trick frame and enclosed bodywork.  It was also powered by a Ducati Pantah V-twin like the DB1.  Its party piece was the subject of Marconi's thesis: hub-centric steering.

Instead of the usual hydraulic fork, the Tesi ( thesis in Italian) had a swinging arm in the front and one front damper.  This front arm eliminated the flex in the front forks under braking.  Another advantage was the lack of dive under braking.  This gave the Tesi a huge amount of stability under braking, much more than with the traditional hydraulic fork. 

Continuing into the 90s, Bimota kept to their history of putting exotic frames around production engines.  In 1997, they released the V Due, their first bike completely built in house.  The usually Bimota trick frame and top-shelf suspension were there but the V Due had something else that was new: Bimota's first engine.

This engine was a 499cc two-stroke V-twin with direct fuel injection designed to meet the new restrictive emissions standards.  This advanced fuel injection took eight years to develop and was supposed to solve the emissions problems with two strokes.  The V Due should have been a return to prominence for Bimota, who were becoming less and less relevant as regular production bikes got better. 

Instead, the bike turned out to be hugely flawed.  The fuel injection system worked so poorly that some considered the bike to be "born bad."  Irate owners of the expensive V Due demanded that Bimota fix the problem but the company could never get the bike to run right.  Bimota ended up recalling all 340 V Dues produced.

While this was going on, one of their major racing sponsors backed out, leaving a huge amount of debt owned to Bimota.  These two coinciding events plunged the already struggling company into bankruptcy.  The shop in Rimini that set out to change motorcycles for the better was now closed.

All was not lost, however.  In 2003, a group of investors bought Bimota and pumped some much-needed cash into the company.  As a result, Bimota returned to the scene in 2005 with a range of bikes powered by Suzuki and Ducati engines.  The Tesi came back, too, with a new Ducati powerplant and an updated hub-centric front end.

What's the reason behind this history lesson, you ask?  The group of new Bimotas recently released is what spurred this post.  Ten years ago the company was dead and now they're releasing a motard (DB10), a Ducati-powered off roader (DBx), and a new superbike based around the drivetrain from the BMW S1000RR (BB2).  In a new direction, Bimota is even releasing a sport-touring bike, the DB12.  This model is the first Bimota to have a passenger seat.  They've also again tried their hand at building a two-stroke engine in-house.  The BBx dirt bike is powered by a 300cc two-stroke single.

Don't think they've gone soft, though.  The new DB11 VLX has the engine from a Ducati 1198 between its trick frame rails.  And before you think it's just some exotic bits thrown on a production engine, it has a unique engine management and exhaust system.  Oh, and it has one more thing: a twin-screw supercharger.  With the blower between the cylinders, power goes up to 190 bhp.    

No one knows how long Bimota will be around this time but the future looks bright for the mad men from Rimini.  Bimotas, especially the Tesi, have always struck a chord with me because of their exotic nature and their willingness to take risks.  I like a company that's willing to put good sense aside and do what others won't.  I hope Bimota stays around for a long time and they continue to be mad, exotic and expensive.  

Close the Lights

Well, the first full week of November is upon us and that means the riding season is officially over for me.  The lows are starting to dip into the 20s; that's too cold for me.   This weekend I removed the batteries from the bikes and put them on a shelf in the basement.

Looking back, I'd say this past riding season was a good one.  I didn't go on any long trips, though I planned probably a hundred of them.  Dreaming up trips on Google Maps is a great way to kill an hour or so.  Anyway, I took a few day trips but nothing major this year.

With that said, I managed to put a record number of miles on the bikes this year.  I put about 5,000 combined miles on both bikes (hold your applause, please), which is the most I've ever put on in one season.  The reason for this were the weekend jaunts I took to forget about the week.

You see, I finally joined the 21st century and got an iPhone.  I hated it at first and felt like a total sellout.  I had vowed never to spend money on a cell phone and always took the free phone.  My stance wasn't based on me being cheap (well, not 100 percent, anyway) but on principle.  I dislike phones heavily, especially the talking part, and used mine as little as possible.  I thought the iPhone and other smart phones were completely ridiculous.

My stance on the iPhone changed when I realized it came loaded with Google Maps, the aforementioned waster of hours noted above.  This meant, my brain told me, that I would have a map on me while I was riding.  It also meant that I wouldn't have to fumble about with a folded map or have to guess my exact location.   Hmm...

This new-found appreciation for technology gave me increased confidence to go and get lost.  For me, the issue with getting lost on purpose is my lack of a sense of direction.  I get lost way too easily, which leads to me losing my temper and getting even more lost, which then leads to me panicking.  It's a vicious cycle.  Even using GPS didn't prevent me from getting lost.

Now I can get as lost as I dare and have my magic phone bail me out.  That is the kind of technology I like.

With magic phone in tow, I made it a point nearly every weekend to get lost.  What resulted was a honing of my directional skills and the discovery of some great new roads.   I was missing out on some great tarmac because I clung to the few routes I knew, most of which weren't really that good. 

I feel like an idiot for raving about a cell phone on a site that's supposed to be about motorcycling.  The truth is, though, that it's a pretty handy device for a motorcyclist.  I can find good roads on-the-fly, get weather updates and find new destinations.  I'm quite enamored with the thing, to be honest, which explains this crap post.

I still don't like talking on the phone, though.