The last time I rode an MT-10 was last year.
It made me a little bit crazy. I confessed to my madness openly each time I was asked about the bike.
“Buy one,” I would say. “It’s the only way you’ll understand.”
It was a superb motorcycle. It inspired and delighted me with its sheer motorcycleness. I gelled with it on a base level, and I even came to appreciate its brutal, bug-eyed, tech-mech appearance. I found myself longing for the apocalypse…and then I gave it back and things returned to what passes for normal for me these days.
At its base, this MT-10 is an ergonomically sensible motorcycle propelled by the uniquely fiendish insanity of Yamaha’s re-tuned and crossplane-cranked R1 engine. So it doesn’t even sound like any other in-line four as it pastes your face with hell-speed. They all shriek. This one grumbles. It makes a sound like icebergs calving or mountains rubbing their pinnacles together. And it pulls everything closer sooner as such a thing is expected to do.
But I don’t care about the MT-10 anymore.
I have taken my pants off for the MT-10SP.
And that SP can only stand for Special Porridge.
For this porridge is seriously special, thanks to the addition of Öhlins ERS.
So if SP stands for Special Porridge, Öhlins ERS should stand for Extremely Resplendent Superiority. But it doesn’t, as odd as that may sound.
Öhlins ERS stands for Electronic Racing Suspension. And that is what it is, and that is what it does. And I don’t think anyone does it better.
For my money, there are maybe two manufacturers who do electronic suspension really well. Yamaha is one of them, and its partnership with Öhlins is simply sensational – it’s a Bogie and Bacall thing, for sure. And it lifts the SP above its rivals and sets it square against king-beasts like the new KTM Superduke R, which overpowers the MT-10 a little in the engine department, but not in any way any normal human being would even notice. In fact, the two bikes are simultaneously similar and poles apart.
One is a twin, one is a four, after all. The Yamaha feels physically bigger, steers a breath slower, and is quintessentially Japanese in how it goes about its business.
But the philosophy behind their respective creation is the same, ie. the electronic taming of a wickedly aggressive and potent motorcycle in a way that is unnoticeable by the rider, but for which he is, by the Throne of Almighty God, grateful for in the extreme.
And I do so like that in a motorcycle.
So while the base MT-10 is a hoot to ride, the Special Porridge version takes you to that next level of delight. It is the most technologically advanced suspension on any street-based Yamaha, and yes, we have now moved into YZF-R1M territory.
O happy day.
The SP also provides you with a TFT dash, which you don’t get on the base model, and which once again echoes the R1M’s equipment. And of course, it is a special colour (Silver Blu Carbon – and yes, that is how it’s being spelled), and comes with blue wheels, a black front guard, and gold forks. The field-hands will instantly know you’re not astride just any old MT10.
What does all this exclusivity cost?
The standard MT-10 is $18,499. The Special Porridge is $21,499 – a difference of $3000.
Is it worth it? Absolutely. No issue. I wouldn’t even think twice about it. I can always go and rob another servo if I have to. The suspension alone is worth that to me.
There is of course nothing at all wrong with the bouncers on the base model. But come on, this is Öhlins, people. Electronic Racing Öhlins, no less, and adjustable 16 million ways as well as in seven different dimensions. For $3000? Take my money.
Where you will most notice what you’ve paid for is, of course, on the road. Yes, it will work superbly on the track, but tracks are smooth and good suspension is needed to cope with the fearsome acceleration and braking which occurs during racing. So while speeds are usually slower on the road, top-end suspension shines because roads are constantly changeable in terms of surface – some are smooth like racetracks, some are more like goat-tracks, and most are somewhere in-between.
The SP copes with them all. It sneers at them. It takes out its insectile robo-hand and gives them the middle robo-finger. Changeable surfaces are as dust to it.
So riding such a thing hard and fast becomes and exercise in confidence, rather than an exercise in how many prayers you know.
Few bikes are able to deliver such a feeling to the rider.
Coupled with a quickshifter, an assist-and-slipper clutch, a range of ride modes and the ability to fine tune them, or turn them off, and in the real world, you’ll be quicker on this than you would be on an R1.
It’s just easier to ride the MT-10SP fast. It’s that simple.
You can strap gear to it, tour on it, carry a pillion without too many complaints, and commute with ease. It is a complete motorcycle because it does all of these things with aplomb. But most importantly, each time you get on it, hit the button and hear the strange servo-like noises it makes as it fires up, you will know deep down in your black and hateful soul that if you need to engage in a pissing contest, you can do just that. And you can do so with utter confidence.
This is no small thing. The MT-10SP has the goods. All the goods. Well, certainly all the goods I need, or want for that matter. The engine is a symphony of useable torque, the brakes are great, the menus are easy to navigate, the headlights are good (still not great, and don’t even get me started on that eeping horn thing), and with a set of sticky tyres, you will be the king of all you survey – even of bikes that cost 10 grand more.
I love a bike that forgives my screw-ups and has the straight-line punch to make up for that last corner I be-fouled myself in.
I love a bike that makes no unseemly ergonomic demands on me, and if you’re comfy on a bike, you’ll be more effective as a rider.
I love a bike which is reliability incarnate – and Yamaha, any Yamaha, is nothing if not that. The SP is certainly electronically sophisticated, but it’s not carrying any reliability issues as far as that sophistication is concerned.
I love a bike that can do pretty much all of what I want a bike to do, and I especially love a bike I will never have the measure of, but which fact does not at all diminish my enjoyment of it. It’s very hard not to ride around on the SP picking fights and smiling knowingly.
And you know what? I like the way it looks, because it doesn’t look like any other bike, will never be mistaken for any other bike, and always reminds me of the robo-zombie apocalypse we all secretly long for.
Do I behold any negatives?
Well, it feels big. This is not a negative for me. It might be for some, though. The SP’s wet weight is only 210kg. So it’s not heavy, and it doesn’t feel heavy. You can hurl it from side to side with absolute gay abandon and ease. So maybe ‘big’ is the wrong word. Maybe ‘substantial’ is the right word.
Is that a negative for me? Hell, no. The substantial feel helps its high-speed stability, which isn’t really compromised with its slightly shorter-than-the-R1 swingarm. 
It’s tall, but once again, I’m blessed with long supermodel legs, so this doesn’t bother me a bit.
It is, however, an utter and complete pain in the arse to clean. It is a visually complex motorcycle. There are lots of nooks and crannies, holes and bolts, clefts and divots – all of which build its robotic appearance, but you try getting all that clean. You’ll go mad. There’s not enough beer in the world to help you in your efforts.
So I would never clean it. And I would be OK with that. Lube the chain, keep it in gummy tyres, and watch it layer itself in grime as it ages magnificently.
And lastly, it is a thirsty, thirsty thing. Oh well. The tank holds 17 litres of petrol. You will be filling it up at about 230. Maybe a bit less. Maybe a bit more. That don’t bother me none. Obviously, Yamaha is more interested in making your nipples hard than it is about the Larsen Ice Shelf appearing in Sydney Harbour.
And so am I.
I would ride down there on my filthy MT-10SP to see that.
| Engine type | Liquid-cooled, 4-stroke, DOHC, 4-valves |
| Displacement | 998cc |
| Bore x stroke | 79.0 mm x 50.9 mm |
| Compression ratio | 12 : 1 |
| Lubrication system | Wet sump |
| Clutch Type | Wet, multiple disc |
| Fuel management | Fuel injection |
| Ignition system | TCI |
| Starter system | Electric |
| Transmission system | Constant Mesh, 6-speed |
| Final transmission | Chain |
Chassis
| Frame | Aluminium Deltabox |
| Front suspension | Öhlins electronically adjustable telescopic forks, Ø 43 mm |
| Front travel | 120 mm |
| Caster Angle | 24º |
| Trail | 102 mm |
| Rear suspension | Swingarm, (link suspension) |
| Rear travel | 120 mm |
| Front brake | Hydraulic dual disc, Ø 320 mm |
| Rear brake | Hydraulic single disc, Ø 220 mm |
| Front tyre | 120/70 ZR17 M/C (58W) |
| Rear tyre | 190/55 ZR17 M/C (75W) |
Dimensions
| Overall length | 2095 mm |
| Overall width | 800 mm |
| Overall height | 1110 mm |
| Seat height | 825 mm |
| Wheelbase | 1400 mm |
| Min ground clearance | 130 mm |
| Wet weight (including full oil and fuel tank) | 210 kg |
| Fuel tank capacity | 17 litres |
| Oil tank capacity | 3.9 litres |
| Warranty | Two years, unlimited kms, parts and labour |
| Colours | Silver Blu Carbon |
| RRP (inc GST) | $21,499 |
Words by Boris Mihailovic