2018 Ducati Multistrada S review

However, when I’m really gittin’ it on a motorcycle, like in a race or performance scenario, I do just the opposite. I tune into the bike and what it’s doing and where we have to be in the next few milliseconds, and ignore everything else. This latest iteration of the $22,395 Ducati Multistrada seems to attempt to reconcile those very antithetical approaches to motorcycling. Can über-performance and touring live cheek by jowl in the same bike?

The route

My test period on this was limited — Ducati loaned us this motorcycle (the 1260S Touring) for 13 days. I had a freelance gig planned, and wound up riding the Ducati about 3,300 miles over nine days. I rode two-up with Mrs. Lem, semi-loaded. (The bike, not me. We carried personal effects, but no camping gear.) We were meeting my buddy Nate, aboard his 2001 Road King, and our party of three was intending to go to Sturgis, South Dakota and return home seven days later. Well, due to waves on Lake Michigan, and a Gordon Lightfoot song, I was unable to make my ferry and thus my gig, so we decided to turn it into a loose tour of the Great Lakes, which turned out to be lovely. (And also very tasty. Keep your eye out for another food article on the region!)

The Multistrada 1260S

The most important thing that jumps out about this Multi when you first climb aboard is its seat height. It’s way low. It’s 32.5 inches at lowest, but it feels lower. Everyone who jumped on it remarked about how you sit in the bike, not atop it. I ignored the bike until the day before I was slated to leave, and then looked through the tool kit to see what I had and what I needed. Lo and behold, the toolkit on this machine is actually quite good. We’ll be revisiting the toolkit later in the story.

I took the Duc home in 70 miles of pouring rain and was immediately grateful for the tires it was shod with, Pirelli Scorpion Trail IIs, which performed flawlessly in the wet weather. (Sizes are 120 front, 190 rear, so finding high-quality replacement rubber will be a snap.) I went to sleep, woke up at 3 a.m., packed the bike, woke up Mrs. Lem, and set off. We picked up Nate, and then ran through 480 miles of rain, which finally abated at the Michigan border. I’ve never ridden so many miles of rain, and though the Duc has Dynamic Traction Control and ABS (cornering ABS, actually!), I had no occasion to use either, mostly due to the tires. However, the engine played a part, too.

The engine’s output is very linear. It’s not a powerhouse down low, but the middle of the rev range is very flexible. As the weather improved, I found if I sent the fancy electronic tach on the TFT display north of 7,000 rpm, the bike commanded a bit of respect for he who has forgotten that it makes 156 horsepower. The mid-range power gets stronger as you go up the tach, but up in the high revs, it’s full-on lunatic mode. This engine, borrowed from the XDiavel, has impressive specs: DVT (Ducati Variable Timing, which alters cam phasing), 13.0:1 compression ratio, which explains why the exhaust sounds so ear-shatteringly loud (in a good way!), and four-valve heads.

There are four riding modes: Sport, Urban, Enduro, and Touring. Each can be used as-is, or tweaked with various levels of input from the aforementioned DTC and ABS, as well as Ducati’s Wheelie Control or even the engine power itself. Everything’s pretty easy to access with the given controls and menus are easy to see. The TFT dash itself is clear and not too cluttered, and also has some different display options. (I liked using night-time display all the time, for instance.)

One irksome item: the buttons are not backlit, but they have a lit surround. It looks nifty, but it’s really about useless. It guides you to the buttons, but gives you no idea what they do.

Once the weather cleared, I opted out of Touring mode and into the generally sharper Sport mode, much to the chagrin of Mrs. Lemmy. You see, the engine is a bit abrupt when the throttle is closed in this setting. Nate didn’t seem so fond of it either… every time we pulled onto an on-ramp, he was chasing me down after every rapid romp to Triple-Digit Speed Town. I did see him a lot in the mirrors, which are wider than the bags, and are beautifully designed, but do vibrate as bad as any of my old choppers.

They’re also weirdly attached to the handguards, which have integrated turn signals, so if you want to change any of that crap, get ready to take out your wallet and your tools.

The trans was pretty good; not quite Japanese in its refinement, but certainly no bread truck. The DQS (quick shifter, for both up and downshifts) is very jerky when loaded up and working the midrange of the bike. It was so bad even my wife commented on it. I eventually stopped using it except for one important situation: upshifts when using cruise control. The Duc, you see, allows something I’ve never experienced: clutchless upshifting when using the “Resume” function of cruise in second gear and higher. I’ve never had a motorcycle that didn’t treat an upshift as a cruise control event interruption. This does not work for downshifting, as in a pass, but you could theoretically slow down, get into third, then hit the resume button and re-achieve your target speed while clutchlessly upshifting. It makes speed reacquisition a cinch. It really is the little things in life.

And for those doing it the old-fashioned way? The Duc has a juice clutch with slip and assist. I had a few minor problems upon cold startups with a judder-y clutch, but it was just fine for me. (I was a bit worried, because I knew Lance had the fits with the SuperSport he recently rode when that bike was cold.)

As we saw the sights in America’s Dairyland, burning up dino juice, my attention shifted to that go-juice for a bit. Range was a bit shorter than I would have expected; perhaps 200 miles if one was gentle with the throttle. That said, this doesn’t bother me in the slightest. On longer trips, I welcome the opportunity to get off the bike every so often. The Road King bested this bike for range, but not by a ton. Mileage was far better than I would have expected, usually in the 41 to 43 mpg range. Not bad for a 518-pound bike, really. (And it does feel lighter than that, in part due to the low seat height.)

I was pretty happy in my saddle. I was a little locked into one position, but it was a fairly comfortable one. I was good and upright, and the footpegs were in a comfy, neutral spot. (And they had removable rubbers!)

Wind protection was OK when I had the ‘shield in its tallest position. (It’s one-hand adjustable. Good Duc!) I suspected my wife would be happy, as the pillion seat is very wide, but Mrs. Lem said the footpegs were set too far to the rear, which is a common theme I hear from her.

She also found the saddle uncomfortable, specifically because of the lap seam used where the two seat materials meet. She also felt the windscreen was buffeting her when I had it up far enough that I found it useful, so we compromised and left it exactly where she wanted it. (Ha!)

One thing I will say for the Duc: It’s an L-twin, which means it is skinny, especially the lower half of the machine. Part of the reason the seat feels so low and the bike can be controlled easily with the knees is because the engine is only one jug wide. If you don’t like the feeling of a “fat” bike, do not discount how svelte the Multi feels. It’s very refreshing.

Turning the bike loose in central and northern Wisconsin was just the ticket for the Ducati, which was happy to be plodded along at 65 in sixth… but when the turns showed up, I was equipped to make the most of them. The brakes, which are 320 mm rotors up front squeezed by four pistons residing in the Brembo M50 monoblock bores, are very, very good. I could brake so hard, in fact, that I could feel the aluminum handlebars flexing as my weight bore down against them.

Ducati’s Skyhook Suspension was as easy to use as it was effective. Preload adjustments are a snap. (I see so many riders suffer with shitty sag adjustments out of laziness. Electronic and remote adjusters are key to solving that problem, so I am always a proponent of their inclusion on a motorcycle.) The suspension could go from fairly soft for a sporting animal to quite taut… all with buttons. I don’t know that I’d want to be the guy to fix it when it goes kerflooey, but it’s neat. Really neat. (You can step up to the Pikes Peak version with an Öhlins setup for $24,995, if you like.)

All that technology came to a halt in Shawano, Wisconsin. Mrs. Lem stuffed something in her saddlebag, and she set the key on the bike’s inner fairing. I did not see it. The key, you see, is used to open the bags and remove the saddle, but the electronic fob that makes up the other half of the key simply needs to be present to fire up the bike. The bike did let me know something was amiss, though, so after a quick quarter-mile sweep of the road, we found it and carried on. I’m not sure if the tech helped or hurt here.

Some touring, lots of hyper

The bags, incidentally...were a mixed bag. They are different sizes, the right side being smaller to account for the exhaust. We each took a bag (Mrs. Lem got the big one, because I am a gentleman), and did OK. I had my camera, laptop, and rain gear in mine, and lashed a dry bag to the tail section. Mrs. Lem fit all her clothes and smell-goods in the larger left side pannier.

In Door County, Wisconsin, we pulled over for fuel, and my lovely wife informed me the bag would not open. She was right. In fact, mine had the same issue. I lubricated the external sliding mechanism for the locks with some white lithium grease, but no dice. I finally flooded the lock cylinders themselves, and that got things moving again. (Not my first choice in lubricants, of course, but sometimes you use what you've got.) Bad Ducati! Still, they worked as designed after that little snafu and for the remainder of the trip.

The bags wouldn't have provided quite enough room for us had we been camping, and that is acceptable to me. Mrs. Lem and I are the rare folks who go on the road for a long time and camp most of the time, meaning we need max capacity. This bike would be perfect for me alone if I were solo tripping, no matter the distance, but it’s not a full-out tourer, which should be clear. Even hoteling it, we were pushing this bike’s storage capacity just a little, seeing as how I was bringing work equipment along, but on a pleasure trip with no tent, I think we’d be just fine.

Now that said, the Ducati faithfully took us 3,000 miles without hitch or hiccup, and it did so in relative comfort. It was super-duper fast, and so many people asked questions or said, “Nice bike!” I got the impression that “Ducati” was equivalent to other flashy Italian marques like Lamborghini or Ferrari. I don’t personally need people to say that to me, but I do understand some riders enjoy hearing praise for their machine. There’s something to be said for that. And most of those who commented on the bike were suitably impressed when I pointed out some of the crazy technology Duc’s so skillfully integrated into the motorcycle.

On the last night of our trip, I was hustling the Multi to get it home. Up until this point, I felt I never quite clicked with this bike, in part due to the my issues with the DQS and the bit of abruptness in the fueling. When I flogged it, however, it felt much better. It’s a lot of work to pilot a motorcycle quickly two up (mentally and physically), but I started to feel like I was connecting with the bike.

Upon my return to work, however, I had a dry day to bring the Multi back to ZLA World Headquarters. Obviously, Mrs. Lem was not on board. Suddenly, the bike was magical. Fast and powerful, and with a reduced payload, the quickshifter’s ignition cut suddenly worked as designed. The hinky throttle smoothed out once the throttle plates were spending their time open. This bike is a solo rider’s dream, but it’s probably not the best choice for a couple. For one person, this bike truly could competently handle a track day and then immediately go on a long tour without much preparation. (I think Ducati’s visions of this bike being an appropriate off-road machine are closer to delusions, so we’ll just let that lie for the time being.)

The motorcycle is indeed a wonderful one. I am glad I tested it because this generation of Multistrada is far more refined than previous iterations I’ve ridden. I’m not sure I feel it’s worth the asking price, but I also am not the customer looking for the very specific combination of traits the Multi offers. I am not the rider to have one bike in the garage, nor do I find much need for electronic gee-gaws, ridiculous horsepower, nor a bike whose nameplate carries both gravitas and a financial penalty. However, not every motorcycle is for every rider. I am sure a Japanese ST bike would make me just as happy for less money — and I’m sure there are some people who could ride one and never be satisfied.

Ultimately, I would say this bike is competent up to and including use on a track, and it’s no slouch in the touring department. The implementation might not be exactly how I would like, but there’s no denying that yes, the Multi goes beyond competency and actually kicks ass in a wide variety of areas.

Epilogue

Ah, yes. We’re not quite done yet. Remember I told you we’d revisit the tool kit? It’s a very good one. It has some of the tools you need to muddle through a repair. It also includes a full tubeless tire repair kit… plugs, tools, even a CO2 inflator. I have never tested a motorcycle that included these goodies.

A few days into our trip, perhaps in a bit of kismet, I told Nate to pull over and examine his rear tire, and sure enough, he had only a few pounds of air and a bolt in his rear bun. Mind you, Nate’s been riding for years, and is a proficient wrench… and a tightass. He knows better than to not have a tire repair kit, yet because he’s never had a flat, he’s never seen fit to buy one one. I saw panic set in as he realized he had no options, and then I reminded him I had tire tools on board. He was obviously very grateful (and impressed!) that this bike came with those tools.

We got him plugged up lickety-split, then got on the road, and all got home safely. The Duc not only had no problems moving under its own power, but it was able to get another bike home safely, the first time in my tenure at CT a bike has received a better-than-perfect reliability track record. I laughed thinking about an Italian superbike saving an old police-issue Harley-Davidson; it’s a little funny, almost like the beginning of a joke. We all agreed (Mrs. Lem especially!) that the Ducati’s stock rose very quickly in all of our minds when it turned a pain-in-the-ass breakdown into a quick 15-minute stop and got us all home safe and sound — even a rider who was not on it.

The Duc took us everywhere we wanted to go at whatever speed I was rider enough to attempt. We had all of the items we needed to be comfortable for a week on the road, and the bike was mechanically as sound as one could ask for.

Maybe I haven’t given the Multi enough credit.

2018 Ducati Multistrada 1260 S
Price (MSRP)	$22,395
Engine Type	Liquid-cooled, 90-degree twin, four valves per cylinder with desmodromically-actuated valves and variable timing
Displacement	1,262 cc
Bore x stroke	106 mm x 71.5 mm
Power	155.8 horsepower @ 9,500 rpm
Torque	95.5 foot-pounds @ 7,500 rpm
Transmission	Six speeds with Ducati Quick Shift (up/down)
Front Suspension	Sachs 48mm fork with electronic preload, rebound and compression damping
Rear Suspension	Sachs shock with electronic preload, rebound and compression damping
Front Brake	Twin 330 mm semi-floating discs, Brembo M50 four-piston radially mounted calipers; Bosch cornering ABS
Rear Brake	Single 265 mm disc, two-piston caliper; Bosch cornering ABS
Tires front/rear	120/70ZR17; 190/55ZR17 (Pirelli Scorpion Trail II)
Steering head angle	25 degrees
Wheelbase	62.4 inches
Seat height	32.5-33.3 inches
Tank capacity	5.3 gallons
Wet weight	518 pounds