The passionate artisans of Italy have been the source of desirable objects for centuries. Many of them are especially desirable to us gearheads. Since you’re reading this, you probably have a car or motorcycle pictured in your mind right now. Think of Italy, and designs from some of the most celebrated coachbuilders, Ghia, Bertone, and Pininfarina are likely to spring to mind, as are some of the most beautiful cars; the flowing lines of the Ferrari 250 GTO or the edgy Lancia Stratos. And then there are Italian motorcycles. The iconic Bimota DB7, Cagiva’s V589, and so many Ducatis, the ageless 916 or track-bred Desmosedici RR—examples of each recently sold at the Superbike Sunday Auction.

Virtually all of Italy's storied motorcycle firms sprang up in the foothills that ring the broad valley of the River Po in the Emilia-Romagna region. The son of a fighter pilot, and a native of Rimini, Ascanio Rodorigo grew up watching motorcycles race around the street circuits of Imola and Riccione and his teenage years ripping around the coastal mountains of Arezzo. Today he is the owner of Vyrus, a boutique motorcycle manufacturer that incorporates the finest in Italian innovation, design, and artistic flair and takes them to another level.

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Born To Build Motorcycles

Asciano Rodorigo Founder of Vyrus at his workshop
Asciano Rodorigo Via: Vyrus

“And so, it starts,” Rodorigo says smiling, “forty years ago. It was the standard, I'm not a unique person here, everybody was racing. Up in the hills behind Rimini. It was illegal, of course. That was our love but not only racing, because we’re also talking about the customization of motorcycles. Yes,” he adds, “it was the beginning of my work, absolutely.”

I asked Rodorigo how he came to meet and work with legendary designer Massimo Tamburini, and renowned frame maker Dervis Macrelli. “I knew them since I was very young, because my father was a close friend of Massimo, and growing up, I would sometimes visit Dervis’ shop just to watch him work.” Customizing motorcycles came naturally but at a cost to the family’s heating system. “When I was young, I used to take apart the radiators in the house. I used the aluminum thermal-reflector to make a fuel tank for my motocross or for my brother or a friend.”

All Roads Lead To Bimota

Dervis Macrelli on an early pototype in 1975
Dervis Macrelli Via: Vyrus

Rodorigo recalls, “Massimo was fabricating parts for heating and plumbing, but his passion was for motorcycles. He worked in the same shop as Dervis, who was already building custom frames.” Tamburini had some ideas for improving the frame of the MV Agusta 750 he was racing on the weekends, and in 1972, persuaded his partners to open a motorcycle division of the Bimota company. Macrelli became the first employee. “Massimo was the mind,” Rodorigo says, tapping his temple, “and Dervis was the engineer.”

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Bimota grew rapidly thanks to bikes like the 1978 KB1, which took its engine and primary components from the Kawasaki Z900, but weighed an incredible 80 pounds less, vastly improving its handling and performance. Tamburini refined his tubular steel frame design by reinforcing vulnerable joints with alloy plates, resulting in an exceptionally strong and stiff chassis. A concept that first appeared on the Bimota KB3 prototype in 1982, the year the young Rodorigo went to work for his father’s old friend under the direction of Macrelli at Bimota.

The Hub-Center Steering Conundrum

Pierluigi Marconi and the Bimota Tesi Range in red/white
Pierluigi Marconi Via: Bimota

At the time, Bimota was researching the forkless Hub-Center Steering (HCS) system, developed by Pierluigi Marconi and Roberto Ugolini as part of their final year thesis at Bologna University. “They took this project from shop to shop, but nobody was interested. When they finally brought it to Bimota, Massimo said, 'wow, that’s really interesting.'” But storm clouds were forming over Bimota, and Rodorigo explains, “It was not a good time. They were spending more than they were making, and the project got shelved.”

Bimota's Hub-Center Steering Design
Via: Bimota

Tamburini would leave the company he helped found, but his reputation ensured he would soon find new employment. Rodorigo recalls the day in 1985, “A helicopter arrived in Rimini. It was Mr. Castiglioni, owner of Cagiva.” Cagiva had just bought Ducati, and Castiglioni had turned his sights on the innovative designer from Rimini. “He went to Massimo with a blank check and said, ‘I want to start a new company, with you running design,’ and Centro Di Ricerca Cagiva (CRC) was born.”

Silver Vyrus motorcycle
Via: Vyrus

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Tambourini took Macrelli with him, and the CRC would go on to produce some of the most celebrated motorcycles in modern history, revolutionizing motorcycle design across the industry. Losing Tamburini, the driving force behind Bimota, drove the firm to insolvency. Rodorigo left to found his modest workshop in 1985, spending the next decade building a formidable reputation for fabricating custom parts and modifying and preparing race bikes. Years later, he would partner with his resurgent ex-employer on the development of the new Tesi.

The Rise Of Vyrus

2003 Vyrus 984 black with red details
Via: Vyrus

“When Massimo left for CRC, Bimota hired Federico Martini as Head of Design.” Rodorigo recounts, “He hired Pierlugi Marconi, and you can be sure he took the crazy, interesting project off the shelf.” The first prototype equipped with HCS, named the Tesi (Italian for thesis), came soon after but suffered a series of setbacks. The complex linkages required by the design led to slack and inconsistent steering. “I think maybe it was too advanced at that time. Hub-center Steering with a quadrilateral linkage system is a winning idea, but it must be part of a holistic design,” he said. “You can’t just put HCS on a motorcycle, and it works.”

As Bimota’s fortunes improved, they hired Rodorigo as a consultant. “I had the opportunity to work with Matthew Casey, an Australian guy working at Bimota. He’s still a crew chief in MotoGP and a very clever person.” He remembers the pivotal moment, “In 1999, Bimota ran out of money again, and Matthew persuaded me to take on the Tesi project, and that's when I started with the 984.”

Rodorigo wanted to compete in the same space as CRC and built a prototype with a refined HCS solution to show at the 2003 motorcycle exhibition in Padova. “We didn't have the idea to become a real motorcycle company," he said, "The 984 was only intended as a one-off to demonstrate what we can do in 90 days."

From Prototype To Motorbike

2003 Vyrus 984 carbon fiber underseat exhaust
Via: Vyrus

The extraordinary effort required by Rodorigo and his team to complete the 984 in time for the show gave rise to the company’s adopted name. “Back then, we modeled designs in clay, shaping them with sandpaper. It was tiring and dusty. We were working day and night, and we all got sick. On the last night before the show, it was 5:00 a.m., we were about to go home when Mauro, one of the young mechanics, came to me and said, ‘We should call this bike the Vyrus. It made us all sick.’” Rodorigo laughs, “this was just a joke, but anything that starts from a joke is a positive thing.”

They were blown away by the response at the show, winning the Critics Choice award, one of a number sitting on the shelf behind his desk. “We returned home with a box full of business cards," he said, "and decided right then and there to become a manufacturer.” Rodorigo had seen the risks of overreach firsthand at Bimota and tempered his aspirations accordingly. “We said OK, let's make five of them.” But five became 12, then 25, and Vyrus would eventually build one hundred 984s.

A Question Of Competence

2007 Vyrus 985 Battigia on beach black/gold detailing
Via: Vyrus

One of the biggest challenges facing any boutique automotive firm is the daunting task of homologation, and I asked Rodorigo how he manages it. “It's a question of competence,” he said and reached across his desk to retrieve a hefty bound manuscript. “This is the 535 pages of the Euro5 Homologation directive. This is our Bible and represents the most difficult part of our job.”

Rodorigo explains, “Bimota is just two buildings over. Pierluigi, my old friend, designed the Tesi H2 using Kawasaki’s engine and exhaust, complete with inlet, manifold, and airbox, already homologated . When I told him of my plans to make the 988 Euro5 compliant, he called me crazy because he understands, although we used a Ducati engine, the changes we made require that we re-homologate.”

Flying In The Face Of Convention

2020 Vyrus Alyen 988 carbon black
Via: Vyrus

When we discuss the new 2020 Vyrus Alyen, I start to understand the extraordinary complexity behind every aspect of its design, expertly masked from view by one of the most exotic composition of body panels ever to adorn a motorcycle. “The Alyen is a brilliant and difficult project because it is a completely unique point of view. There is nothing like it,” he says with finality. Rodorigo admits to what he calls, “a sickness with the weight” and is known for taking his scales to the local dealers to compare a new model’s published and actual weights. His design and material choices reflect an obsession with lightness.

“In a conventional motorcycle, even in the Vyrus, you have all the parts, a fuel tank, an engine, a seat, you have an air box…” I interrupted him, airboxes are usually a single piece of pressed plastic. Rodorigo smiles patiently, “The Alyen’s airbox is made of four parts; a cast magnesium body, a carbon fiber cover, a base of CNC aluminum, which is a load-bearing structural component of the frame, and a plastic mount housing the sensors. This is the airbox!” he says. “I know it's crazy, because you can design something like this, but to realize it you must find a way to put four different materials together.”

Rodorigo told me the carbon fiber, ceramic brake discs and carbon fiber fuel tank are unique to the Alyen, making standards testing more demanding. Nonetheless, he claims, “Every Vyrus model met the European standards and I think this achievement demonstrates the real value of this little company.”

Just Don’t Call It Expensive

Vyrus 986 Exhaust Carbon Fiber Bodywork
Via: Vyrus

When I say that I now understand why the Alyen is so expensive, Rodorigo is quick to rebuke my choice of words. “The real question,” he says with a wry smile, “is, why is it so cheap?” For Rodorigo, owning an Alyen, or any Vyrus motorcycle is a value proposition based on the same philosophy as an enduring partnership. “Let’s say you want to race in MotoGP with Honda. The official factory motorcycle costs over $30 million, and it's not even your property, you’re only leasing it, and must return the bike at the end of the season. But inside of that price, you have all the resources, specialism, and technology developed by HRC.”

“The Alyen is a street-legal, 200 horsepower machine that weighs 370 pounds.” Rodrigo holds up his hands, “It's like a MotoGP bike, only 15 pounds heavier.” Indeed, the exotic materials used in each handbuilt Vyrus, and the electronics managing their numerous sensors are on a par with the factory machines of MotoGP. “When you buy a Vyrus you marry a philosophy. You are not just a motorcycle owner but one of a group of friends.” Rodorigo expects and encourages owners to upgrade older models, bringing them back to his little workshop in Rimini for improvements or custom parts. Every year the company gathers as many owners as possible for a tour in a different part of the world. “This is a community,” he says.

Vyrus 986 white/green/red
Via: Vyrus

Radiating energy and zeal for his profession that belies his years and the torturous task of meeting regulatory standards, Rodorigo is proud to announce that Vyrus will make 250 motorcycles this year, although he has no intention of chasing the numbers. “We will never compromise for the sake of profit," he said. "We know how to make a motorcycle, and we will always aim to make it the best possible.” In this era of endless marketing bluster, I must admit to a degree of cynicism when I first read about the Alyen. But when he talks of his latest fantastically exotic creation, it is with the same earnest air and heart-felt wonder of a teenager, proudly showing off a gas tank he just made from old radiator parts. Vyrus is only a name, but Asciano Rodorigo’s enthusiasm for what it represents is infectious; this isn’t his job, this is his love and his passion, manifest in the motorcycles he makes.