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But back to the real conversation. In all seriousness, I tank, and handlebars kept me comfortable in
thought the Dragster America sounded good. And yet
that three-cylinder engine cannot even come close to
touching the Brutale's deep bass at low revs, a
soundtrack that transitions through a warbling wail up
to a haunting, echoic scream easily able to wake up
the neighbors for miles. Luckily, the four-banger
pumps out enough power low down in the rev range
that I could escape my own neighborhood without
needing to rev too high—even if the tuning clearly
prioritizes the higher end of the tachometer. Cold
starts and low rpms can produce a bit of lurching, but
the engine warms up quickly and then begs for hard
pulls further and further into the insanity.
The power just seems to build and build forever as the
cacophony escalates. I found myself gritting my teeth,
bracing my feet on the pegs, and tightening up on the
grips before getting anywhere near full-throttle rips,
which require open roads about the length of an A380
runway to feel anywhere near safe. The adrenaline
coursing through my veins on this bike outpaces just
about every hypercar or motorcycle I've ever ridden,
including the absurd Honda CBR1000RR-R
Fireblade or Ducati Streetfighter V4 SP. (Maybe only a
Panigale V4R might produce the same tingling,
anxious energy—hint hint, if anyone at Ducati
happens to be reading.)
Design in focus
From inside my helmet, the Brutale's raucous spirit
reverberated between the engine itself and a set of
amazing exhaust pipes tucked under the rear tail. The
tail itself serves as a highlight of the bike's angular
aesthetic, which melds muscular forms with a
futuristic hint of hidden force beneath the flesh. Below
t h e p i l l i o n s e a t — s o m e t h i n g o f
inclusion—those four exhaust tips stack two to a side.
But the two-up seat pad itself rides above aero vents
and taillights carved into the marble, as emphasized
here by a fashionable gray paint job.
Aero winglets up front complement the look, though
made of plastic not carbon, perhaps to save a few
bucks in the hopes of keeping the Brutale budget
down. The rest of the details surrounding the trellis
frame split between painted metal and black plastic,
though the actual form itself worked well for me at 6'1"
tall with long limbs. The geometry of the seat, pegs,
commuter traffic, but once I escaped the city, hanging
off the seat with my haunches scooted back a bit let
me hug the crook my knee into the angular tank walls.
The plastic itself actually feels a bit higher in quality
than some of the componentry on the Dragster, too,
including on the grips. Touchpoints everywhere
suggest subtly that the Brutale sits on another level
from the lower-spec 800-class Dragster, in fact.
Up into the canyons
Once out of town, I started fiddling with MV's
customizable riding modes. I thumbed through the
various engine maps, but found that Race is seriously
racy, with a bit too much on-off lurch for canyon
carving. Instead, I mainly stayed in Sport, where the
engine's modulation eases off a little to allow for more
maintenance throttle around blind corners, rather
than constantly sticking with hard braking and hard
acceleration as I might on a track. Smoothness stayed
at the forefront of my mind, after all, with so much
power ready to rip out at any second.
And speaking of smoothness, I also found myself
happy to ditch the trick SCS clutch of the Dragster
America, which comes close to approximating an
automatic gearbox thanks to a nifty mechanical
expander disc and quickshifter. The Brutale 1000 RS
also features an up-down quickshifter, which
becomes essential while launching into the
stratosphere. I always suspect that four-cylinder
engines work better with quickshifters because of the
additional reciprocating mass, and perhaps the
balance shaft spinning at twice the engine's RPMs
helps to further enhance the Brutale's smooth-yet-
a n o d d peppy shifting action. But the bike's clutch also
worked so smoothly and confidently that I found
myself using my left hand much more than necessary.
Playing it safe, always
I essentially traded the Dragster America in for the
Brutale, but in between the two, got stuck riding a
whole bunch of Indian Scouts. And let me simply say
that getting back on a bike with real, serious brakes
brought a true grin to my face the first time I even
tugged on the righthand lever a tiny little bit. Dual 320-
millimeter discs up front with four-piston Brembo
Stylema calipers do most of the work, while I
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