Stands to reason, doesn’t it? That the modern-day interpretation of something that predates Ferrari and Lamborghini by decades ought to be, in the very least, exciting.
Cracking world championships in the 250cc class in 1950 and 1969 may seem easy. But try the Isle of Mann TT. They won the 250cc class in 1939, 1950 and 1969.
Wrap your head around the fact that making fast Italian bikes is something this company invented. But now they’re owned by some Chinese. But has that ruined everything that Benelli stood for? You bet your brown cheeks it hasn’t.
The one we rode is called the 600GT. And it’s as violent as a terrorist on cocaine. It’s a raw, vicious, pure-play touring motorcycle with a 600cc inline-four. If that seems a bit short on capacity, then Honk will there to laugh our heads off when you try it.
It’s actually a supersport in disguise, I tell you; no two ways. There’s nothing sane about 82bhp from an in-line four especially when it’s genuinely (and perpetually) angry. Honestly, it simply refuses to cruise.
The bike knocks at anything below 3000rpm, and it pulls maniacally above 4000. So that’s the agro explained. But what about the fact that it has two huge panniers? And the straight-up riding position?
The windscreen (yes, bikes have them too) is nothing short of brilliant. There was a point where I was doing 180kph, with one hand on the throttle and the other making waves in the invisible air and sitting upright. Yes, you do feel the wind, but only after it has been through a committee which has decided that the rider is not a kite.
It doesn’t look particularly Italian. There’s none of that knee-buckling beauty that we’ve come to expect from Italy. It looks big, badass and functional. If you throw in massive panniers, it’s about as big as a Bombay flat.
As a stroke of utter genius, Benelli’s given it a 27 litre fuel tank. If you’re riding like a complete loon, you’ll get about 12kpl. With a full tank that’s Bombay to Pune and back without breaking a sweat.
Mind you, the amount of fuel you have on board directly affects the handling. With a full tank of fuel, it brakes a lot better and the nose stays planted when you throttle out of a corner. If it’s running low, it wheelies all the time.
The gearing is something else that stands out. While each gear goes comfortably from 4000 to 12000rpm, they’re stacked really close together. There’s barely any drop in revs from one gear to the next.
On the highway, I rode it like an automatic. While the torque spread isn’t exactly even, it does kick in once you get past about 4000 revs.
But what I’ve failed hopelessly to describe until now it its personality. It loves to run. It loves to eat up tarmac and destroy long distances. It’s one hell of a mental machine.
But more than anything else, everything about it is endearing, including the size and weight. If you could ever conceive of owning a pet tiger, try this instead. It’s just as exciting.
