KTM RC8, The Lesson

I’ve ridden a superbike. Six years ago. Once.

Up Sir Lowerys pass and back, maybe 10k's total. It was a Honda CBR 1000RR. By all accounts other than mine it is something right at the pinnacle of its genre. I couldn’t appreciate the enormity of what it was capable of as it was a short ride but more, I had a DS helmet (with peak) and jacket on and both caught the fearsome Cape South Easter and made the experience a frightening one. Not because I was riding at the limit of what I was capable of but because I was being blown all over the road. Having full sails up in a storm is not clever. I hated it.

I have been a dual sport rider for 97% of my riding miles. The other 3% was on a vespa or an old CBR 900 Bol de Or, neither can be called superbikes either. I own a KTM 950 Adventure that my ego likes to think that I can ride fairly well. I know that at my limits the bike is still barely breaking a sweat and I love it for that. It’s a beast and when needs be, a pussy cat. It is a superbike of a completely different sort.

Secretly I have harboured a desire to have a go on one of the road going versions; the amazing looking KTM RC8’s. I’ve followed it’s life since even before it was born and still a wet dream in the rumour mill. I’ve read all the reviews, I keep an eye on what they are doing in the racing scene. Deep down I would love to own one. Surely just having one would make tar a stunning experience? More, what about sticking one of it’s 1190 engines in my bike because, let’s face it, I’m a boy and, um, well, what other excuse do you need? Beasts to me are very alluring.

So, after a stroll around KTM Western Cape last week looking for a part, I saw that they had a white 1190 demo. “Would they mind?” I wondered. Just asking felt wrong. It was what I presume a Cessna pilot must feel when he asks for a spin in one of the new fighter jets. I fully expected a polite smile and that would be the end of it.

But no, Donald didn’t seem to pick up on my superbike virginity and said, “sure, pop in anytime next week. Just take the peak off your helmet.”

“hmmm, what a good idea!”

My wife saw me putting on my riding boots this morning, a Friday, a workday and smelled a rat, “Explain!?”

“I have a chance to ride an RC8 today! It’s the road going version of what I have. Don’t worry I’m not going to buy one, I just want to see what they are like.”

My wife is not that stupid and I saw the look. The truth is, I’d love one.

Donald is pretty good in the banter department and can keep an ear warm for as long as it takes. I was not really focused on what he was saying as the white beast was parked outside just waiting in menacing silence.



The admin was completed and he showed me around the multi function clocks and then pushed the joy button.



Yooowee! Its loud and does it with soul. There’s a whole heap of something very fierce sounding going on inside its fairings. It’s beautiful.

Click on the picture to hear...



Sitting on it was similar to the click of a seat belt. It sort of seems to strap itself on. It was snug and my knees seemed to sink into the sides. Donald turned to leave me to it with a, “it doesn’t really like dune riding so stay on the black stuff”.

He’d also said take it round Llandudno and back via Constantia.

Pulling away is fairly straightforward, no, very forward! That engine has a LOT of stomp. I thought it wiser to get onto the N1 and just get a bit of a feel rather that heading into town and straight for the corners.

You know those first flirtatious moments when you’re sussing out how a new bike rides; The pull of the levers, the feel of the engine and throttle, the way it turns and stops, basically its soul and personality? Well, this bike does very little flirting; you’re going dancing puppy! And it’s not the slow waltz either. “lets get it on! Rock and Roll china!”

It’s blade sharp, and the engine! It’s not a beast, it’s a super beast! From low down its just a torque slut all the way, in any gear. And Loud!

I turned around at Monte Vista and very nearly went back to the shop.

You see my dream was very nearly in tatters. I think I’ve watched enough seasons of Motor GP with Rossi and the boys. I ride a big KTM and I am not scared to slide it and wheelie it. I can keep up with most superbikes on the twisties on knobblies and yet, here I was lost at sea. I was way out of my depth. It is not motorcycling as I know it. I was very nervous and the bike knew it. I was duffing the gear changes, I didn’t trust the brakes, I was constantly in the wrong gear, the position felt all wrong, it was stupid fast and stupid dangerous. What was I thinking to have asked for a go!?

The turnoff came a went, I gave myself a talking to and said, “HTFU, give it a really good go, then give it back”.

So I did.

For the next hour that I had it, I was taught a few things about riding;

• For the briefest of moments along the way, maybe 3 of them. I had a peek into what it’s like to really ride one of these. When given a bit of commitment, it all tightens up, everything sings, it feels super sharp, hard and fast.

• You ride these things not to relax but to focus, to drown out the world so that all that is important is what’s happening between your legs, in your hands and up ahead. It does not tolerate loss of focus or sloppiness. It has a singularity of purpose that even had I wanted to, it would not have allowed me to forget. There is a measure of precision that the Adventure bikes can’t hope to match.

• I found myself marvelling at the people who ride these things even half good. I have no idea how they do it. It was like I was writing a test every time I tried to go around corners with meaning and brake with any authority. It would give me instant feedback on how I was doing. Most of the time I felt out of control. Not the kind where the bike is at fault. I could feel that it was far inside its limits, I was just at the edge of mine. It was humbling.

• It attracts attention. A lot! A guy in a merc nearly took out a cyclist because he was ogling in his mirrors whilst trying to keep me behind. It is rare and unique.

• It hurts to ride it. The seat is fine, just the wrists and neck felt a little challenged. And that not the worst of it. My ego took the most of the beating.



I sadly gave it back. Not because it was something that I wanted to keep, but because a fantasy of mine had been popped.

I thought that by just hopping on, the bike would be my ticket into that hallowed world of “the racers”. I’d be instantaneously elevated by superior machinery to be worthy of what some of our roads promise. To be able to fluidly slice from apex to apex, time the braking just right, sing along through mountain passes to the point of making tar a form of meditation of getting from point A to B in the most efficient way possible.

It doesn’t work that way. If I were to ever own one, it would only be on its terms not mine. It clearly requires respect, discipline, dedication, focus, passion and practice.

It’s not a toy for instant gratification. It’s a test. It’s a privilege. It’s a challenge.

I’ve a long way to go.

A bit like life really.



Thanks to KTM WC for the lesson.