Aprilia RSV-R Mille Factory

Aprilia RSV-R Mille Factory

by: Dangerous Bruce

Pics: Chappo

Far from allaying my missus’ fears that I was constantly on my phone owing to a sordid affair, she seemed even more concerned when I came clean and told her I’d actually been eyeing up a new toy; one of these. I first fell in love with Milles when I was just 16, and typically spending my days terrorising the local neighbourhood on my waspsounding Aprilia RS50.

To me, back then, the same brand’s big brother V-twin represented the pinnacle of sportsbikes with its charismatic soundtrack, race-crafted persona and looks that made the hottest girl in my school appear about as comparably attractive as a doughnut that had been peed on. The Mille was my first true love, despite having never even sat on one, revved one or knowing the first thing about them. Young, naive and financially destitute, not much has changed in the 14 years that have come to pass other than the fact that I’ve finally got a few credit cards… and I’m not afraid to use them.

But is lust alone enough to make me part ways with around £5k in borrowed readies, chancing it all on a bike I’d never ridden? No, was the simple answer to that one. Despite the many bargains I’d seen online, with some privately owned Factory spec Aprilias up for grabs for less money than what you’d pay for a box fresh learner legal 125, I still wanted to try before I buy(ed). Which is where my mate Rob stepped in. He bought his 2007 RSV-R Factory back in 2011 and he’s even more smitten with it than he is with his streak-free fake-tan. Drawn to it for being slightly different and brimming with spec, he’s never regretted his purchase, which he’s spec’d up with stubby levers and a screen so dark it makes the night seem bright.

Being handed the keys was a defining moment for me, prompting the chance to finally scratch that Aprilia shaped itch that’d left me more confused than the time I caught Boothy trying on a wedding dress. My first impressions revolved around its size, being much taller in the saddle than I’d expected, with my legs parted unceremoniously by the tall and broad fuel tank; the ’bars felt low and the pegs sportily high.

It appeared every bit the race-focused street bike, with a simple dash that fixated more on showing revs than trivial secondary matters such as what speed you were doing. More alarmingly, as I’m terrible for being in the wrong gear at the best of times, I clocked the half analogue/digital display had no gear indicator on tap. I felt panicked like the time(s) I filled a bike’s tank before realising I’d left my wallet at home, but starting the Aprilia’s motor and hearing it release its heavenly booming soundtrack distracted me from my qualms.

The stock Factory spec twin cans still had their baffles in place, but they sounded perfectly loud and endearing to me, emitting a deep, low grumble that got infinitely better as I slipped the bike into first and powered away. The initial pickup was smooth, strong and enjoyable and I was even more impressed at how user friendly the gearbox was. I’d heard complaints about the Mille ’box’s tendency to make finding neutral feel all but impossible, and how used examples were particular bad for slick shifting owing to years of abuse at the hands of ardent wheeliers. But not this one. Admittedly, a quickshifter would have made the job that bit more enjoyable, but the tech wasn’t essential. Hitting the market at a time not long after abacuses had been outlawed, the Factory is all but devoid of rider aids, with no engine maps, traction options or even ABS to write home about. This bike is raw motoring, with an arsenal of horsepower and torque and no handbrake tech to spoil the party. It’s a technophobe’s nirvana.

sources:

Fast Bike UK, July 2018

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