Discussing the third-gen KTM 390 Duke without resorting to superlatives is challenging. Its design, the mechanical package it offers, and its performance catapult the 2024 Duke light years ahead of the high benchmark set by its previous two generations. Priced at Rs 3.10 lakh (ex-showroom), it is the best motorcycle in its segment that money can buy. But despite its excellence, I can’t recommend it to everyone.
While enough lyrics are being waxed about the motorcycle so far (deservedly so), the essence of this motorcycle boils down to three distinct movies – Liar Liar, Fight Club, and Citizen Kane.
Liar Liar
A bright orange thread links the ’90s Jim Carrey classic to the 2024 Duke is unfiltered honesty. Just as Carrey’s character couldn’t physically lie, KTM opted for an unapologetically busy design with the new Duke—whether for better or worse. It’s bold, attention-grabbing, and an outlier in the realm of motorcycle design at the moment.
The tank extensions go a bit overboard, and the headlight design might leave you scratching your head. Bikemakers are all about those “neo-retro” models lately. They sport classic, minimal and free-flowing lines that age like fine wine. But, when you look at the Duke, none of that wine is going to help in making it look more attractive, especially when you consider its more aesthetically appeasing competitors.
Even the newly revamped instrument cluster has switches that look good, but the dashboard feels jam-packed with information and stuck in the past—kind of meh. Still, that might just be the bike’s only meh feature.
Fight Club
The discussion around Fight Club and the 390 Duke has remained consistent for nearly a decade. Initially, both seem polarizing and intimidating, yet upon closer inspection, the experience becomes not just addictive but life-altering. The moment you swing a leg over this naked, the experience unfolds instantly. You’ll notice the comfortable, sporty riding position, the seamless clutch action, and the unexpectedly agile feel.
As you start riding, the motorcycle sheds its initial intimidation, much like the scene where Tyler befriends The Narrator on their flight. It entices you with its friendly approach, instilling a constant sense of control, thanks to its finely tuned chassis setup. Manoeuvring it feels as precise as delicately cutting through a cake with a scalpel. The handling is magnetic, the suspension finely calibrated — slightly favouring stiffness to complement its performance — and the brakes respond with a force akin to reverse thrusters. Every element operates in perfect harmony. Just like Tyler at the outset, it behaves like a companion, guiding you through the initial kilometres. However, it’s all set up to reveal the orchestrated chaos it truly holds when you unleash its potential.
And it doesn’t take much to understand it. At lower speeds, its relaxed approach feels like riding a lightweight scooter. While the Triumph Speed 400 was smoother at lower revs and more buzzy at higher ones, the 390 behaves the opposite. Initially, you’ll sense the roughness of vibrations in your legs and spine at lower revs, but not in an uncomfortable way. It feels like the bike is urging you to accelerate for a more comfortable ride, almost like Tyler sitting in the back seat with his charismatic Brad Pitt smile, saying, “You can go faster than this,” and that’s precisely what happens when you heed its call.
Give it some throttle, and you’ll swiftly realize you’re atop a salvo, gaining speed rapidly, with your peripheral vision getting blurrier by the second, while Tyler at the back is urging you to go faster and faster. I remember cruising at 40 to 50kmph in city traffic; then, once the road opened up, I accelerated, and suddenly, I hit 102kmph. Pass the hundred mark, and the vibrations vanish, tempting you to push further, which you do. And in a matter of moments, you’re cruising at 140kmph. It’s as smooth and charismatic as Tyler, it’s effortless. And just like the Brad Pitt character, if you aren’t careful enough with your inhibitions, it will also burn the hand it once held.
Citizen Kane
Hyperboles aside, there are many parallels between the new mini scalpel and Orson Welles’s debut film. Narrowing them down to three – 1) they are both instant cult classics, 2) they are either looked down upon and gatekept by elitist nerds and 3) they are just not for everyone. While the first point speaks for itself regarding the reputation they both have earned in popular culture, the same culture has also led to the 390 Duke acquiring some unfavourable reputation, often marked by an unsavoury classist slur you may have heard of.
Both new-age film and motorcycle enthusiasts sometimes disdain those who prefer these two cult classics, simply because they are readily available, implying they are less intellectually stimulating than the avant-garde, exotic, and pricier Japanese or Italian alternatives they prefer. In reality, the 390 Duke’s financial accessibility might be its most significant advantage, by laying out an even playing field and granting access to the performance that was previously locked behind the paywall of the aforementioned Japanese or Italian offerings. However, that doesn’t imply that the 390 Duke is the right choice for everyone.
If you’re new to cinema and want to watch Citizen Kane just to say you’ve seen it, perhaps it isn’t the movie for you. Buying the Duke should be approached with a similar perspective. Both demand that you study them, study motorcycling or cinema, and discover hidden nuances within them for years to come. And they will reward you. The third-gen Duke can turn a novice into a master, as swiftly as it accelerates; for me, that’s magic. It’s pure motorcycling at its core. However, it will only do so if you’re willing to learn and are patient enough to do so. If not, perhaps any of the half-dozen retros in the current lot will do the trick.
