Ride Review: Honda CRF1000L Africa Twin

Just about every review you'll read for Honda's new CRF1000L Africa Twin speaks to the bike's surprising usability off road. Honda seems eager to drive that home, to such an extent that the manufacturer had journalists gather in South Africa recently (my invite must have gotten lost in the mail) to spend two days in the dirt.

Despite my own experience (I'll get to that in a moment), I don't doubt the Africa Twin's off-road chops, but it occurs to me the vast majority of the people who pay upward of $13,000 for this 511-lb. motorcycle are not actually going to go skipping off to the Kazakhstan steppe. I mean, if you really want an all-roads world-traveling Honda, surely you'd choose the Rally Raid CB500X instead. It costs and weighs less.

Instead, I think the Africa Twin will fall primarily into that awkward category of heavy adventure bikes that are perfectly capable, but unlikely to be used by the majority of its owners for anything more exotic than a rural dirt road. So, I got in touch with Honda and asked to spend some time with the Africa Twin to assess the bike as a purely on-road tool.

As an owner of a Suzuki V-Strom 1000 –– which has almost identical dimensions, weight, horsepower and torque figures — I wondered whether the Africa Twin was worthy of its larger price tag and all the praise it's received in the motorcycling press. The short answer to that question is: maybe. It really depends on personal taste and how much the Honda badge means to you.

There's no question the Africa Twin beats the 'Strom — and every other bike in its class — in terms of weight distribution. Center of gravity is kept nice and low, so it feels lighter than it actually is. At least, until you have to pick it up (again, I'll get to that in a moment).

Throwing a leg over the one-piece saddle I'm immediately impressed by how nimble this bike feels even at a standstill. At 6-foot-1, I've set the seat to its highest setting (34.2 inches) and have no trouble putting both feet flat on the ground. The seat can be adjusted to suit those with slightly less inseam, and doing so is simple. Really simple. Other manufacturers need to adopt this system.

Honda have given me a model with all the bells and whistles: panniers, top box, touring screen, heated grips, crash bars, fog lights, etc. It's a good-looking package and there's a real feeling of quality — especially the bike itself. On each side an understated, but beautiful, Honda badge makes this feel like a premium product.

The dash is a bit small and so packed with information that, on the go, it can be a little difficult to pick out relevant information. I'm also not a fan of the digital tachometer, but to each his own; I'm certain you'd get used to it after a week.

Handlebars are wide, but not unnecessarily so, and hands fall naturally to the grips. Standard handguards help keep the weather off. In a move that makes sense if you think about it, Honda have done away with the idea of a separate starter button and incorporated it into the kill switch. Press down on the big red switch and the bike fires up with the healthy whirr of a modern machine.

(EDIT: Someone has since pointed out to me that the one-switch system has been around for a while on the Yamaha MT-09; a bike I have ridden. I had forgotten about it.)

Whoever designed the Africa Twin's clever seat and start-up system must have taken the day off when Honda was developing switchgear for the left handlebar. The button for the horn has swapped places with the switch for the bike's indicators. So, EVERY DAMN TIME you try to signal a turn, you end up honking the horn. There is no possible intelligent explanation for Honda having done this and you will never get used to it.

A less significant quibble is the button for Honda's integrated heated grips. It doesn't make a lot of sense; there is no up or down. But, again, it's the sort of thing you'd get used to. Or, you could just install an aftermarket set of heated grips, which would be cheaper and warmer.

I'm riding the manual version of the Africa Twin, and, man, is this transmission slick. Buttery smooth. Here, again, it beats everything in its class. It's definitely the sort of thing you'd appreciate over a multi-day excursion. Clutchless upshifts are effortless. It's rare that I shout, "Damn, you are so sexy!" at a gearbox, but here I'm given occasion to do so.

Would a transmission this smooth be a problem off road? Its light touch difficult to nuance with a heavy off-road boot? I don't know.

The 998cc parallel twin pulls strong from low revs. Power delivery is smooth and linear. On the highway, illegal speeds are found quickly. Above 85 mph the bike starts to run out of puff, and the gentile, tolerable vibration felt at lower speeds turns to a shudder. It's not a frightening shudder — the bike still feels stable — but it's definitely not comfortable, either. A sign the Africa Twin might not be your first choice for the autobahn.

At 70 mph, though, the bike cruises comfortably at 4,000 rpm, which suggests Honda's claimed 60 mpg is achievable with a calm hand. Meanwhile, the feeling of lightness translates well into a decent flickability in corners. Roundabouts, twists and turns are fun on this machine and don't require much effort.

If you're reading this in the United States, the "Where did that car in my blind spot go?" feeling that comes when shooting through roundabouts may not be familiar to you. But it's something that makes one value good mirrors. The Africa Twin's set is OK but not great and I have to readjust frequently. After a few stops I accept the mirrors are not strong enough to hold my helmet.

The Africa Twin's off-road-friendly suspension travel means it can buck a little under hard acceleration or braking but that may be the sort of thing you're only going to discover when trying to find flaws. The same person who is disinclined to off road with this bike will probably also be disinclined to wring its neck through the twisties. Treat it like a tourer, for instance, and you'll never have issues.

And I can very much see this being used for long-distance trips. The seat is comfortable and offers plenty of space to move around. The optional touring screen keeps windflow just over my helmet. Though I would like the screen to be wider; my head is in a nice pocket of still air, but my shoulders are out in the cold.

My biggest qualm with the Africa Twin, especially as pertains to its value as a long-distance road machine, is the fact it has tubed tires. Ostensibly this is because tubed tires are preferable if you've launched your bike off a ridge or something and damaged the rim. For a road-only rider, though, they are a pain in the caboose — considerably more difficult to repair roadside, and, even in this day and age, more likely to blow up.

Honda has confided in me it plans to offer rims that accept tubeless tires in the not-too-distant future, which is a good thing. Hopefully quality road tires will soon be available in the bike's narrow sizes. At the moment, for example, the excellent Michelin Pilot Road 4 tire is not available. The tires with which the Africa Twin comes standard, Dunlop Trailmax, provide a decent amount of grip but can kick on particularly slick surfaces, like raised pavement markers on a wet road.

Honda's adventure-looking panniers look well suited to extended travel, but a goof on my part helps expose a number of flaws. On a mountain road, I stop to take some pictures, steering the bike onto a patch of grass. As I do this, the bike lurches, stalls, and I suddenly find myself lying beneath it.

As stated above, I totally believe everyone else's claims about the Africa Twin's off-road capability. I don't have a great deal of experience off road, so it is entirely possible and indeed likely that this bike is in no way to blame for my dropping it in the exact same photo spot where I have taken half a dozen other bikes without incident — including the 900-pound Victory Vision. I accept that I am a bonehead and any assertions that the Africa Twin is too inclined to stall are nothing more than desperate attempts to comfort my damaged ego.

But hey, I've dropped this thing, so let's talk about that, shall we? 

Fortunately, I have dropped it into some good ol' Welsh mud. I am able to slither out from under the Honda with ease. No damage to my person or, it appears, the bike (a). After a 30-second break to scream profanities at the sky, I turn my attention to the task of getting the bike upright.

Now, I cycle almost every day; I also lift weights, and part of my routine involves doing several dozen squats. I'm not Brian Shaw or anything, but I'm strong enough that I've not had difficulty picking up dropped bikes in the past. But Sweet Jeebus is it hard to pick up a 511 lb. motorcycle in the mud. Swearing, spitting, huffing, straining hard. Who would think that off-roading with this thing would be a good idea?!

After a minute of struggling, I get the bike up. And it's at this point I notice the left pannier is missing. The Honda panniers have an aluminum look but are really just plastic, attached via clever integrated mounts. I find the pannier in the mud a few feet away and instinctively look for all the shattered plastic bits that I expect to have come off with it. There aren't any, and to my surprise, I discover — after using the key to unlock its plastic clamping mechanism — the pannier clicks back on with ease.

I can't decide how I feel about this. The pannier has simply popped off, rather than shattering into pieces. I suppose the former scenario is preferable. But it doesn't really fit the rugged Africa Twin adventuring image. These things can be forcibly removed with a swift kick. Clearly, they are only good for road use. Which then begs the question: why aren't they more aerodynamic, like luggage on the V-Strom 1000 or Kawasaki Versys 1000? As is, you have these honking big boxes hanging off your bike, creating all kinds of drag, without the indestructible benefits of say, a pair of Metal Mule cases.

When I take the bike to a nearby jet wash to clean off the mud, I discover another problem with the Honda luggage: it's not entirely waterproof. However, I also discover the Africa Twin is easy to clean. Hit it with a hose and not much else is required. That's certainly an advantage over my V-Strom 1000, which has nooks and crannies that will never be clean unless I remove the fairing.

All in all, then, the Africa Twin is well suited to the sort of road-only use most owners will ask of it. It is solid, nimble, all-day comfortable, easy to live with, and comes with the promise of Honda's famous reliability. It makes sense. This is a bike I would ride cross country. Though I'd personally not buy anything more than the actual bike, and not until tubeless tires are available.

After that, perhaps some Shad cases for luggage, a Givi AirFlow to replace the too-narrow screen, Oxford heated grips, and so on. Because of the expected popularity of the Africa Twin, aftermarket companies are rushing to provide accessories for the bike, allowing you to turn it into your perfect machine.

As to the question of whether I think it's better than my V-Strom 1000, well...I don't. As good, maybe, but not better. However, that's an emotionally driven opinion; if an Africa Twin owner were to contest it, I wouldn't argue. The Africa Twin is a very, very, very good motorcycle. But for the person who has come to love his or her Suzuki V-Strom 1000, Kawasaki Versys 1000, Triumph Tiger 800 XR/C, BMW R800GS, KTM 1190 Adventure, or Yamaha Super Ténéré, it may not be so good as to be worth trading in for. Not on the road, at least.

The Three Questions

So, with all that said, here are the questions I ask of every motorcycle I ride:

1) Does it fit my needs/current lifestyle?

Yup. The Africa Twin is very evenly matched to the Suzuki V-Strom 1000, which is a bike I have really come to appreciate. The Honda is perfectly capable of handling almost anything I would ask of it. Except, as I say, travelling on the German autobahn.

2) Does it put a grin on my face?

A utilitarian grin, yes. It didn't punch me in the chest with joy or any such thing, but it is a very good bike that can take me to all kinds of grin-inducing places and experiences without worry.

3) Is it better than my current bike?

No. A Honda fanatic would disagree, and, as I say, I wouldn't try to tell him or her that he/she is wrong. In road-use terms, the 'Strom and AT are incredibly similar. But for me the 'Strom wins because:

a) It has quicker, more exciting acceleration (I prefer the feeling of a V-twin).

b) It is capable of going faster without feeling unsettled.

c) The engine's snarl when accelerating sounds a lot cooler/meaner.

d) It doesn't stall as easily.

e) It handles better.

f) It is just a teency bit more comfortable.

g) It's cheaper.

h) Its panniers, though smaller, stick out less and are more aerodynamic.

i) The Honda is not actually any tougher than the 'Strom (see footnote below). 

It is certain the Africa Twin will have a better resale value, but after returning it to Honda I was happy to be going home on the 'Strom.

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(a) When I closely inspected the bike, I saw that the rear fairing had come slightly loose, with a fingernail-sized tab/fairing clip having popped out of its slot. When I attempted to push this tab back into its slot it snapped off. Visually, nothing seemed amiss, however, so I left the tab there on the mountain and spoke not a word of it to Honda.

(Parts of this review were originally published on RideApart)

ADSENSE HERE

What I Want: Honda Africa Twin

I've admitted this before: I'm a sucker for good marketing. And the campaign leading up to the imminent return of Honda's legendary Africa Twin motorcycle has been exceptionally good.

Honda clearly, almost overtly, intends to take the crown away from BMW in the adventure-touring category, feeling its Africa Twin has rightful claim to the throne. Certainly the old Dakar-winning XRV-750 was unmatched through much of the 1990s, when it had little competition. But with almost every major manufacturer now offering some sort of adventure variant -- and BMW and KTM having upped the game to exceptional levels (1) -- Honda has a big mountain to climb.

I think they've gone about tackling that mountain the right way, though: slowly, slowly, slowly whetting our appetites over the past year. First, through the unveiling of the mud-covered True Adventure concept, then through a series of sleek, inspiring True Adventure videos on YouTube.

A few stylized photos were released back in May as part of Honda's official confirmation of the Africa Twin's return, but up until this week Honda hasn't offered a full glimpse of the machine. As I say, it's clever marketing -- piquing our interest but always leaving us wanting more. This is the way you go about building a cult following, similar to that enjoyed by the BMW R1200GS.

And I have to admit that it pretty much has me hooked.

Which is a bit surprising to me. I certainly didn't imagine myself wanting the thing back when I saw it in person at Motorcycle Live 2014. I didn't even bother to take a picture of it. But owning a Suzuki V-Strom 1000 has led to a change of heart. Adventure bikes are ugly, but by Gawd, are they useful. 

For example, take my recent trip down to Tuscany (I'll be writing a lot about that trip soon). I can think of no other class of bike that could have handled as well all the challenges I faced: narrow and unpaved roads, psychotically twisty mountain passes, 125-mph autobahns, urban madness, and everything in between.

The Africa Twin is being billed as a true do-all rugged beast and I am very much looking forward to getting the chance to see if the bike lives up to its billing. Having previously owned a Honda, I have a soft spot for their utter reliability and ease of use.

I have very few qualms with the Strom at the moment, so it will be a few years before I turn a serious eye to the Africa Twin, but I really can see it becoming my next bike.

According to Honda, the Africa Twin is a relatively light machine, and it appears not to be as stupid-wide as many ADV offerings, such as those from BMW, KTM and Moto Guzzi. I'm looking forward to seeing a specs sheet, but on appearance it seems right to suit my needs.

There appears also to be plenty of room for a passenger and I have no doubt it will come equipped with many of the bells and whistles we've come to expect from this class, such as traction control and riding modes. The luggage, too, speaks to me.

The standard luggage on my V-Strom is my greatest complaint about the bike. It would be nice to have panniers that can actually hold stuff like helmets or laptops.

It's very hard to tell from the video that's been recently released, but it appears the Africa Twin is equipped to overcome my other complaint about the V-Strom, which is its lack of an adequate place to put a GPS. 

(Although, I have to admit that I've grown pretty fond of my redneck fix to that problem. The stupid blue bar across the dash makes the bike surprisingly easy to spot from a distance and therefore easier to find in a parking lot.)

I have no doubt that the bike's 1,000-cc parallel twin engine will have plenty of grunt and plenty of go. And I'll admit to being very intrigued by Honda's desire to equip this bike with its DCT automatic transmission. 

There are a lot of British riders of the Frank Melling mindset who carry active disdain toward electronic tiddly bits, so I can't imagine DCT-equipped Africa Twins will sell like hotcakes over here (2), but I'm not British. And I'm man enough to admit that some urban European riding can be very mentally taxing due to all the things you have to pay attention to. I suspect that eliminating the (albeit slight) mental drain that comes from operating my left hand and left foot would allow greater ability to concentrate in particularly hairy situations, such as multi-lane roundabouts.

I am also man enough to admit that it's likely DCT can do a better job of controlling the transmission than I can. In the same way that ABS can do a better job of emergency braking than I can. Electronic aids do just that: aid. They aid in the enjoyment of the motorcycling experience and help make it more accessible to everyone, which is ultimately of benefit to motorcycling as a whole.

I think my only concern in owning a motorcycle with automatic transmission would be fear of losing touch with my skill to operate one with manual transmission. After all, there are a lot of manufacturers who seem pretty dedicated to The Old Ways, and I wouldn't want to miss out on any of their fun.

Perhaps the solution to that dilemma is to just own several bikes. You know, because I'm so damned rich.

Indeed, the real selling point to an adventure motorcycle is the fact that it's several bikes wrapped into one. And this one looks great.

So, we'll see. Maybe I'll want a manual transmission Africa Twin, maybe I'll want one with DCT. All I really know is that I want one. I have a few years to work out which one; I don't expect to be bike shopping again until at least 2017 (and that's being pretty optimistic). 

I'll stick to just daydreaming for the timebeing.

UPDATE: I just found a specs sheet online that suggests the Africa Twin will have just slightly less power and torque than my V-Strom, whilst weighing 6 kg more and having 1.2 litres less fuel capacity. To me, this means that the techno do-dads Honda chooses to add and make as standard become incredibly important in determining whether I'll actually end up getting one.

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(1) I don't actually know how exceptional or otherwise BMW or KTM bikes may be; I've not yet had the chance to ride one. However, every conversation I have with owners sees them swooning over its abilities, And when you read some moto-journalists' reports of the bikes you suspect they needed several changes of underwear during their test ride -- so ebullient is their praise.

(2) Or, perhaps they will, since Britons don't tend to eat hotcakes or even know what they are.

ADSENSE HERE

What I Want: Honda VFR1200F

"I think we get so caught up in the marketing hype that we forget that most of the time the only person enjoying the bike is you, and the wildlife doesn't give a shit how cool you look."

          –– Jeremy, from Australia

I pulled the above quote from an email I received last week from someone who got in touch to say he's a fan of the blog (a). It's a sage bit of advice, without doubt, and when I first read it I immediately found myself thinking about the Honda VFR1200F.

I'll admit I'm not terribly enamoured with the bike's odd Tomorrowland front end. And when equipped with the panniers that I'd almost certainly want to add, it looks even less cool. I can't imagine ladies swooning as I roll by. This is not the sort of bike my wife would excitedly tell others about.

But, oh my gosh, is it a fantastic machine. From everything I've read, from seeing it in person, and from getting a chance to sit on the thing, I've sort of fallen in love with it.

The catalyst for this, of course, were those cool Honda promo videos I watched back in December. Ever since then I've found a tiny bit more joy in riding my Honda CBF600SA around. The joy comes not in its sound or look but in the quiet knowledge that I can ride the hell out of the thing. I find myself thinking: "Hmm, how many miles can I put on this bike?"

It feels like a challenge.

And it's a challenge that inevitably buys me time before my next motorcycle purchase. Perhaps even enough time that I could save up enough to buy a VFR1200F -- a bike famous for its ability to rack up the miles.

Actually, in black, it's kinda sexy.

Capable of churning out a whopping 173 horsepower (!), it has considerably more oomph than I can imagine myself ever using or even wanting to use, but that's kind of the point of a VFR. It goes fast.

Fortunately, it has traction control to help regulate that speed, which is a feature so exotic to me I can't properly imagine it. Living in a wet and slippery country, though, it is a feature that holds a definite appeal. Anti-lock brakes are, of course, also standard.

Equally exotic to me is the happy daydream of never having to fuss with a chain. Yes, I've gotten used to it, but there has never been a point when I've found myself crouching next to my bike in the cold, spraying it with various expensive and toxic liquids, befouling old toothbrushes, rags and paper towels, caking my hands in grease, squinting at a ruler, banging my knuckles on the swing arm, and thought to myself: "Golly, this is fun."

Not once. Not one single time have I ever enjoyed cleaning, adjusting or oiling a chain. I tolerate it, but I don't enjoy it. And if I never had to do it again I would be quite happy. This is the appeal of a shaft-driven bike like the VFR1200F: no more messing with a chain.

The dashboard has an equal "ooooh" factor for me, mixing an analogue tachometer with two digital readouts that display all kinds of fancy information that can only be guessed at when riding my CBF600SA ("How much fuel do I have left?" "How many more miles can I ride on that fuel?" "What gear am I in?" "What's the ambient temperature?").

I've long admired the VFR1200F's features but had assumed I wouldn't want anything to do with it because of its riding position. I've thrown a leg over the smaller VFR800 and hated it. The ergonomics squished my legs up too much, and pushed me forward too far. But when I recently got a chance to sit on this bigger VFR I was amazed at how comfortable it is. The ergonomics worked brilliantly for my 6-foot-1 frame.

Additionally, the VFR1200F has a huge, comfy seat that has plenty of room for an actual human-sized passenger. Too often manufacturers fail to consider how important is the opinion and comfort of a rider's better half. It's nice to see Honda has put in the effort on the VFR1200F.

Having said all that...

Costing £13,000 (or £14,000 if you want luggage, centre stand and heated grips), there's a rather large chasm between the bike's price tag and the amount of money in my savings account. I won't say that the VFR1200F isn't worth the money, but for several thousand pounds less you can buy a number of other bikes that would achieve many of the same aims.

The Yamaha MT-09 Tracer, for example, has traction control and more than 100 horsepower (which, really, is more than I'll ever need) and all kinds of fancy bells and whistles for just £8,150. True, it's uglier and lacks shaft drive, but those things can be suffered.

Also, £14,000 will get you an almost-new Victory Cross Country. That bike's not nearly as fast, admittedly, but it's a whole lot cooler.

Meanwhile, although I found the VFR1200F very comfortable on a showroom floor, one wonders if I'd still feel that way after 300 miles. The idea of being slumped forward for hours on end makes me fear for my lower back.

And if I'm going to contort myself in odd ways for the sake of being on a motorcycle, I think I'd rather do it on a Triumph Thruxton.

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(a) Muchas gracias, by the way.

ADSENSE HERE

Runs in the family

"What other bikes did you ride," I ask my father-in-law. "Before the 550?"

I am again trying to find a gentle way of getting him to do something with the old Honda CB550 that sits in the back of a garage in Devon. Give it to me. Drag it out and restore it. Something. Don't just let it sit there.

Jenn can remember riding on the back of it as a girl. For quite a long time, motorcycles were her father's only means of transport; well into Jenn's early teens, he didn't even have a car driving license (a). He only gave in after having to Jenn's mother to the emergency room one evening after she cut her hand. She had to ride on the back of the bike, through undulating Devon country lanes, holding on with just one hand –– the other elevated in the air and spurting blood. After this incident, Paul was informed in no uncertain terms that he would finally be getting his car license or suffer in all sorts of terrible ways.

Not too long afterward, he attempted to ride his Honda through a flood and the engine died on him. He got it back to his house, put it in the garage, and it's been there ever since.

"My first bike was a James 125," Paul says. "Well, actually, I took my test on my father's Lambretta. Back then, once you'd taken your test you were free to set out on anything."

The Lambretta. Oh. 

I suspect an entire novel could be written about the Lambretta. But the men of my wife's family are true Englishmen, which is to say they are not natural storytellers. The Welsh and Texans, we can talk for hours about anything. We can draw narrative from a trip to the cornershop to get milk. But my wife's brother, father and grandfather are the sort who don't care to share details; they are too comfortable with silence. So, I don't know a great deal about the Lambretta, but for the fact Jenn's grandfather bought it shortly after returning from the Suez, where he had been stationed in the early 50s.

Fuel rationing inspired him to walk most places and use the scooter for longer trips; they may have had a car, but they preferred not to use it. Jenn's grandfather had to me made passing mention of this scooter when I rode down to visit this past autumn. He had made it sound as if he'd not owned the Lambretta for long, but obviously he held onto it at least until 1971, when my father-in-law would have been 16 years old and eligible to take his test.

James 125

Seeing me squint in confusion at the mention of a James 125, Paul explains that his first bike was "an ancient thing." 

I had never heard of a James motorcycle. Later research reveals that James Cycle Co. folded when Jenn's dad was just 11 years old. And although his parents had enough money to send him to boarding school, I doubt very much that his mother, Jenn's forthright grandmother, would have put forward so much as a thruppence toward her son's first motorcycle. He would have had to pay for it out of his own pocket, which suggests the bike would have been very old indeed.

"After that, I had a Norton. A Commando," my father-in-law says. "Then a Triumph Bonneville. That was my favourite, I suspect."

"Oh! Chris is going to get a Triumph," Jenn states excitedly. "It's called a Thruxton, right, babe?"

I almost sprain my neck doing a double-take as she looks at me, smiling. This moment will spin in my mind for the next several days. Chris is going to get a Triumph, she said –– is. And the fact she remembered the name of the bike!

I mean, my wife does a good job of seemingly not caring about my obsession for motorcycles. She's supportive enough, and nods kindly when I wander again into a tangent about the merits of shaft-driven bikes, or my guesses as to why Italy has so many more manufacturers than anywhere else, or some equally boring topic, but I can tell it's not her thing. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if she couldn't name the model of bike I ride at the moment.

I had showed her just one picture of the Thruxton after I came back from Motorcycle Live and commented that I liked it. But I've made the same sort of comment about literally dozens of motorcycles. That she remembers this particular one is telling. In her comment to her father Jenn had accidentally shown her hand. I'm happy she did. Her opinion plays a big part in all my decision making.

Triumph Thruxton

"A Thruxton?" her father asks.

"It's like a Bonneville, isn't it Chris?" Jenn says. "Kind of like one of those... you know... mods and rockers bikes. Wait, when was that? When were the mods and rockers?"

"The riots in Brighton were in '64," I say. "So, before your dad's time."

"Yes. I'm not sure about mods and rockers... I don't know what we were," Paul says.  "But we did have quite a few... erm... disagreements with the chaps on scooters."

"You were a rocker, Daddy," Jenn says. "I'll bet you were totally a rocker."

Of course he was, I think. This is the man who snuck out of boarding school at age 15 to go see Jimi Hendrix play the Isle of Wight Festival. Having told the school he was heading home to see a doctor, he was found out when his mother called the school and asked to speak to him.

"That Triumph was so loud," my father-in-law says with a nostalgic smile. "I kept it in a garage that I was renting from some people. It was so loud they eventually paid me to take it elsewhere. I really enjoyed that one. It made such a racket."

"It's a shame you didn't keep it," Jenn says.

"Couldn't afford to," he says. "Everything always needed replacing. I spent so much money getting new parts. After that I had a Suzuki something-or-other for a while. That was the low point of my motorcycling career."

"How so?" I ask. "Did it fall apart on you?"

"No, it's just... there was nothing to it, you know?" he says with disgust. "It just went, but it had no life. No joy. No point. I couldn't stand it."

Quietly, in my head, I abandon the GSX1250FA as a potential future steed. It's never appealed to me too much, anyway. But its getting that sour look from my father-in-law almost certainly writes of Suzuki in my wife's mind. And unless you're crazy for it, why even consider a bike that won't make you look sexy in your wife's eyes?

"Well, that was the era of the UJM," I say. "Was your Honda any better?"

"It was," Paul says. "It was a good machine. Never gave up on me, 'til I rode it into a river. I'd like to do it up. It's in the back of that garage. I won't give it up. That's one of the things I'd really like to do: like to fix it up and get back on it before I get on too much in years."

"Chris would be happy to help," Jenn volunteers.

"I would," I say. "I'd love to. It's a pretty popular bike with restorers, so I'm certain it wouldn't be too hard to get parts."

"Yes, I'd like that," my father-in-law says. "Maybe. Not right at the moment –– I've got a lot on these days, you know –– but, yes, maybe..."

Honda CB550

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(a) The two licences are separate in the United Kingdom, as opposed to the way a car driver's license is requisite to motorcycle endorsement in most U.S. states.

ADSENSE HERE

What I want: the new supercharged Honda NC750

I had a moment of excitement and glee this week when I spotted the following blurb on page 7 of the February 2015 (a) issue of Bike magazine:

"Kawasaki's supercharged H2 has caused proper rumpus, so now Honda plan their own blown bike. They've filed patents showing a supercharger on... yes, the humble NC750."

Wait. What?! 

I'll admit we're treading deep into the waters of Things Chris Doesn't Really Understand here, but from what I know of superchargers they are magical bits of machinery that when added to a motorcycle leave you wondering: why didn't they do that in the first place?

I mean, the Victory Hammer that set a land speed record at Bonneville, for example. Simply slapping a supercharger on that thing saw it delivering 200hp at the rear wheel. Compare those numbers with the roughly 83hp you'll get from a stock Hammer S and the stock bike seems like a bad investment.

I'm simplifying this so it makes sense to my tiny brain, but basically a supercharger is able to get increased performance by forcing more air into the engine. In the way I've visualised it in my head, this forced (compressed) air has an effect on the engine similar to blowing on the embers of a fire; suddenly the stuff being burned is being burned more efficiently. If you know about superchargers, please feel free to offer a clearer explanation in the comments. But remember to use small words and simple terms because I'm from Texas.

Even though they've existed for nigh 100 years, it's my understanding that superchargers haven't been placed on standard bikes because they are expensive, not just a little bit fiddly, and create a more urgent challenge in terms of engine cooling.

Also, hitherto, superchargers have really only been used to help a bike go insanely fast. And that's what so interesting about this Honda plan. Big Red intends to use the supercharger more for the sake of efficiency than speed.

According to an article in Motorcycle News, the supercharged NC750 will make use of the technology to deliver a vehicle that offers the same low emissions and enviable MPG while boosting performance to somewhere around 100 hp!

In other words, a supercharger will eliminate the single gripe I have about the NC750X. I have long been a fan of the bike, writing about it here, here, and here. Honestly, I don't think there's a week that goes by in which I don't find myself staring at the NC750X page on Honda's website, thinking: "Maybe. Maybe. Maybe that would be the bike for me."

I mean, the damned thing gets more than 80 mpg, for the love of Pete. That blows my mind. The pickup truck I owned in college got 14 mpg –– making the 240-mile drive from Bloomington to Moorhead on a single tank of gas was always a nerve-wracking experience. Meanwhile, the Honda CBF600SA I ride at the moment gets roughly 50 mpg and has spoiled me against many less-efficient machines. I love not having to pay for fuel (especially in the UK, where it costs so much).

But the thing –– and generally, the only thing, because I can overcome its ugly/bland looks –– that cools me on the NC750X is the fact it's so underpowered. It produces just 54hp. OK, uhm, true, that's the same amount of power as a Harley-Davidson Sportster 1200, and if I had the money I'd probably already be riding one of those around, but the Harley is so much cooler. My expectations exist on a sliding, often emotional scale. And because I ride a 600cc Honda that gets 76 hp, I expect at least that much from a 750cc Honda.

A supercharged NC750 would exceed my horsepower expectations while still offering a fuel-efficient and environmentally friendly machine. That last aspect is the driving force in developing a standard supercharged bike, it seems. More stringent environmental legislation is set to go into effect in Europe in 2016 and it's logical to assume that even tighter restrictions will be implemented later on.

To that end, Honda is not the only one looking to put out a supercharged middleweight bike. Just the other day I spotted a news article claiming that a supercharged 600cc Suzuki is very close to production. It's claimed the forthcoming Suzuki Recursion (which, to me, looks as if it has taken its styling cues from a sex toy) will put out 100 hp and a cruiser-like 74 ft.lb of torque.

It seems that for the sake of efficiency, the supercharger is the way forward. Indeed, not too long ago I read that Honda is developing a new VFR400 (not to be confused with the one that ceased production 20 years ago). No doubt it, too, will be supercharged. It's an exciting new world and I wouldn't mind being part of it.

Having said all that...

I've decided to add a new element to my What I Want posts, acknowledging the fact that all motorcycles have some flaws. In this case, one of the biggest problems will almost certainly be price. In the case of the Kawasaki Ninja H2, adding a supercharger means it costs 67 percent more than the Ninja ZX-10R. Jacking up the price of an NC750 by that much would dramatically decrease its appeal to me.

Add to this the fact that alleged patent drawings for this forthcoming bike show the supercharger eating up the space that currently exists for the NC750's signature tank-trunk thing.

So, now you're talking about an NC750 that costs a whole lot more and has a whole lot less storage space. Not to mention the inherently increased risk of mechanical problems that comes from adding technology that has taken more than a century to be perfected for standard use.

At that point it makes far more sense to spend your money on something like a good ol' Honda CB650F –– 86 hp and 60 mpg, plus better brakes, for only £100 more than the current NC750X.

Honda CB650F

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(a) February 2015, lads? I bought the magazine in December 2014!

ADSENSE HERE

I'm a sucker for good marketing

"A life without dreams simply has no meaning."

–– Soichiro Honda

I'm a Honda rider; I'm never really sure, however, whether you could call me a Honda guy. My emotional relationship with the manufacturer of the bike I ride is often tenuous. You can see that in a number of posts I've written over the past few years: the time I compared Honda to professional wrestler Lance Storm,the time I lamented Honda's utter lack of coolness, the time I compared my bike to an ex-girlfriend, and so on.

Of course, the mind immediately jumps to the question of whether it's necessary to be an anything guy. Why not just buy/ride whatever bike it is that you like according to your needs and wants at the time, rather than trying to shoehorn yourself into the illusory lifestyle of any given motorcycle manufacturer? After all, motorcycle ownership is not religion.

But I suppose we could learn a little about motorcycling from at least one religion: Sikhism. To paraphrase Guru Nanak, there is no Harley Guy, there is no Honda Guy, but each of us must still choose a motorcycle.

I digress. The point is: I'm a Honda owner but I often feel something akin to embarrassment because of it. People will ask me what kind of bike I ride and too often I'll attenuate my answer with words like "only" or "just," e.g., "Oh, it's only a little 600cc Honda, but what I really want is..."

Nevermind that my "little 600cc Honda" delivers more horsepower than a 1200cc Harley-Davidson Sportster, is more fuel-efficient and everyday useful than an Indian Chief Classic, and has better brakes than every bike Victory has ever made. For some reason, I have in my head a silly, childish, aesthetic, and all too often financially-based (a) vision of what coolness is, and Honda doesn't really fit within that.

But then there are things like the picture above of world-travelling Stephanie Jeavons, or my own interaction with American nomad Steve Johnson, or the chance conversations I've had with people like the guy I met at Motorcycle Live who had put 87,000 miles on his ST1300 and said of it: "Be careful if you get one because the bloody thing won't die and you won't have any good reason to replace it when you decide you want something new."

These people are adventurers. Their gear is often makeshift and almost always worn out from use. They just go and go and go, in part because the bike they've chosen doesn't stop. And that's pretty cool. 

But because I'm a Gen X dude who can't think for himself, I sometimes need the capitalist machine to remind me that Hondas are cool. Which is why I have been really digging the marketing campaign for the forthcoming True Adventure motorcycle.

I kind of wonder how this hype will jive with the actual automatic transmission motorcycle that I saw displayed at Motorcycle Live, but, you know, Who cares, man?! These videos are awesome. Especially that second one (b); I've watched it about a dozen times thus far. And each time I do, it manages to set off a little voice in my head that yelps: "I need a Honda so I can explore all the things."

Hey, wait! I already have a Honda! Go me! I can explore all the things right now! Yay! Fire up Google Maps and let the dreaming begin!

And therein you have the power of good marketing. Harley-Davidson, of course, does it incredibly well, but this is the first time I can remember being struck by any sort of Honda campaign. Well done, Big Red: you've made me feel happy to be a Honda owner.

Though, I'm still not sure if I'm a Honda guy...

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(a) For example, Hondas have a reputation for durability and quality. BMWs also have a reputation for durability and quality. BMWs definitely don't look much better than Hondas, so why do I swoon over them more? The only logical answer is that I am somehow enchanted (and duped) by the fact that they are more expensive.

(b) One of the people featured in the video is Steph Jeavons, who is Welsh and is a partial inspiration for my own Great Welsh Tea Towel Adventure.

ADSENSE HERE

A look back at Motorcycle Live

I went to my first motorcycle show recently: Motorcycle Live. The show takes place in Birmingham every year and is reportedly the country's largest.

I can believe that claim. The show runs for nine days, thereby incorporating two weekends, and when I was there on a Wednesday it was packed. Test rides booked up within minutes, empty places to sit were few and far between, and you had to do some pretty aggressive hovering to be able to sit on the models that appealed to you.

The models of motorcycles, that is. As opposed to the other type of model. I'm not sure we would have been allowed to sit on the underfed girls who prowled the convention halls shoving leaflets into people's hands.

I can't find any recent figures, but in 2011 the show drew more than 112,000. If you consider that the European economy has improved (just a tiny bit) since then, and there have been a huge number of new and interesting bikes announced this year, it's safe to say they are on track to do better this year. (UPDATE: 117,000 attended this year) I'm terrible at gauging such things, but I'm willing to bet I was one of at least 10,000 people on the day I visited.

There was plenty of space for us, to be fair, with the hundreds of exhibitors and manufacturers spread through a number of gigantic aeroplane-hangar-sized halls. I suppose the cost of heating such an enormous space is where the bulk of one's £17 ticket price goes. And to that end, I don't imagine I'll go to Motorcycle Live again in the future. I loved getting a chance to see and sit on so many bikes, but overall I don't think it was worth the money, nor the effort I had to put into getting there. Birmingham is 125 miles from Cardiff; riding there in a cold drizzle was a whole lot of not-fun. Riding home in the same conditions was even worse in the dark.

Still, there were a number of positives and I came away from the show with lots of things for my motorcycle-loving brain to spin around on for the next several months. Here are my impressions of the show, organised by the manufacturers that drew my attention most.

BMW

Tiny men love this bike. 

Short guys fucking love the R1200GS. I don't understand this at all, considering it is such a tall bike, but they were swarming around this machine, almost crawling on top of each other for the opportunity to sit on it, squeeze the levers and click the gears up and down.

This is what you do at a motorcycle show, it would appear: click those gears as if they were your path to the Heavenly Kingdom. Make sure you put on a very serious face when you do it, too. You are testing the... uhm... something. It is serious business that demands a serious face. Equally, you should bend down and stare intently at a random part of the engine. Poke it and furrow your brow, so people know you are seriously assessing this bike seriously.

BMW fans were easily the most guilty of this behaviour. They were primarily also white males over the age of 40, with expensive shoes and hairstyles that would have been stylish 10 years ago. Being amongst them made me feel a little sad. I don't want to be one of these guys. But I sure as hell would love to own a BMW. 

I have already stated my desire to own a BMW F800GT. Finally getting to sit on one at the show only increased that desire. I also found myself intrigued by the F800R, which costs less than its fully-faired sibling and isn't as ugly as it looks in pictures. I was surprised to find myself generally unimpressed by the RnineT, but I really dug the R1200RS and R1200R models. I did not dig their prices. The R1200RS will start at £12,500 in Her Majesty's United Kingdom.

Meanwhile, the staff at the BMW area knew very little about BMWs. This was a common theme for all the exhibiting manufacturers. The F800GT on display was kitted with panniers and other extra bits, so I found a woman and asked her if she knew how much that bike would cost.

"There's the... uhm... on the... uh..." she said, pointing to a display board next to the bike.

"Yes," I said. "The standard price is there, but this bike has panniers, a top box, and some other stuff."

"If you... uhm.. ah..."
"You don't know, do you?"

"No. Sorry."

She directed me to a bloke who also didn't know.

Ducati

I couldn't care less about a Panigale; my attention went instead to the new Scrambler, which looks pretty damn good in person. Though, I'll admit that something –– I don't know what –– cooled me on the bike a little. Maybe I'm just not that big a fan of scramblers. Maybe it's the fact that I really can't imagine quite how a Scrambler would fit to my actual life.

I liked it. I just didn't find myself sitting on it and thinking: "Oooh, I need this."

EBR

The same could be said of the EBR 1190RX and 1190SX. Poor EBR got very little love from show attendees. People walked by without even glancing at these American-made machines. They were so ignored I felt I probably could have wheeled one out of the hall without being noticed.

That made me feel just a little sad, because I'm an American and I want to see American things do well. But I have to say I don't really blame all the people who ignored the EBR bikes. In person, they are not terribly exciting. The ergonomics of the bikes are awful for someone of my height and the seats are about as comfortable as laying a sweatshirt across a keyboard.

Harley-Davidson

Impractical but sexy –– Harley-Davidson Seventy-Two

I don't really know what Harley's doing in terms of marketing in the United States these days, but over here they've gone for a completely different vibe than the one I had always known. This is a good thing, in my opinion. Remember that all the old dudes on Road Kings I used to see when growing up in Minnesota are what put me off biking for so many years.

I saw none of that at Harley's area of Motorcycle Live. There were no leather vests with patches. No bandannas and long beards. No biker babes. None of the clichés. Instead, the exhibit area had a live DJ mixing house music replete with bleeps and bloops added via Launchpad. None of the stuff contained in that last sentence ("house music," "Launchpad") would make a damned bit of sense to the Sturgis crowd, and I love that fact.

Not too long ago, I had a conversation with the former head of marketing for Mercedes, who told me that one of the most important things to do when promoting a brand is to reduce your philosophy to three words –– four at the most. From there, you make sure that everything you do fits that three-word definition. Here, the three words I would have used for Harley-Davidson were: Unique, Intelligent, and Modern. If allowed to add a fourth, I would say Urban. I like seeing Harley-Davidson perform this tack.

I sat on a number of bikes and found them to be ergonomically awkward compared to those offered by other manufacturers. This is the same thing I experienced back when I got a chance to test ride the Sportster 1200 and the 883 SuperLow. Harleys just don't seem to fit me well. The exception is the Seventy-Two, which I got to sit on and really enjoyed. I can't imagine how I could ever argue such a bike from a practical side, but man it was cool. Somebody buy me one, please.

Herald

Ever heard of Herald Motor Company? Neither had I. They seem to be a Chinese outfit, offering a load of 125cc machines. But they are pretty cool-looking 125s. Odds of my ever owning one are extremely low. They drew my interest simply because I have a long-running fantasy of duping Jenn into riding by showing up one day with a 125 for her to learn on. She prefers "real" motorcycles, so the aesthetics of these machines would suit her.

Honda

Probably not the demographic Honda was
hoping to capture with the Vultus.

Take the number of short dudes clamouring for a glimpse of the BMW R1200GS and increase it by a zillion: therein you have the number of bald and semi-bald white dudes in their 60s and beyond who were swarming the bulk of Honda's offerings. This made me a little sad considering I am a Honda owner, a general fan of Hondas, and a white guy. I don't want to be anyone's grandfather yet. But here I was hanging out with loads of them and finding much in common.

The redeeming aspect of this is that when you look at Honda owners in general they are a grubby crew who ride their bikes into the ground. Their gear is worn to hell from use. And I suppose, ultimately, that's the group you'd want to be associated with, even if they don't look as flashy as the BMW guys.

Meanwhile, as far as the actual bikes were concerned, I didn't really find myself swooning over them. Many models (e.g., the ST1300 Pan-European and the VT750 Shadow) are long in the tooth and in need of a refresh. Whereas others (e.g. NC750X, et al.) were so mind-numbingly practical I felt I needed a nap.

Also, the Vultus looks terribly cheap in person, and its ergonomics were awkward. It's definitely off my list.

Some positives, however: Honda's sport bikes were drawing a decent amount of attention from younger white males, many of whom still had their hair or, at least, the wisdom to cover things up with a baseball cap. The look of CTX1300 continues to grow on me, though I still struggle to imagine scenarios in which I would choose to buy it over the similarly priced Victory Cross Country. And I found the CB500 series of bike (CB500F, CB500X, CBR500R) to be more formidably sized than I had previously realised. I could definitely picture myself getting by on a nicely-kitted CB500X –– still perfectly able to travel anywhere in the United Kingdom.

The new True Adventure bike revealed at EICMA was on display, and I found one aspect of that bike to be particularly interesting: there was no clutch lever or gear pedal. That suggests Honda will be equipping the machine with the DCT automatic transmission, and creates a whole lot of questions.

Honda seems to be going all-in with its 750cc DCT platform, using it to create the NC750S, NC750X, NC750 Integra, Vultus, and probably soon in the bike currently known as the CTX700 (not sold in the UK) once Honda runs out of old 700cc stock. And now, apparently, the True Adventure. So, what does that mean for the NC750X? Does it get scrapped? Does Honda rework the X's engine to get a little more oomph and transform it into a middleweight adventure-tourer? Will the True Adventure be an expensive novelty machine like the Vultus?

Indian
I got a chance to test ride an Indian Chief Classic as a part of the show and will be writing up a review in the near future. The short review is that it is an amazing machine.

What I was most looking forward to seeing, however, was the new Indian Scout. It is a beautiful machine up close and I am delighted to report that its ergonomics were perfectly agreeable to my 6-foot-1 frame.

I am looking forward to test riding the bike once it officially arrives in Blighty in March. The day the Scout was launched back in August I called my nearest Indian dealership, Blade Victory and Indian in Swindon, and asked to be contacted as soon as test rides are available.

Swindon is some 80 miles from Penarth, which would be a pain in the ass if I were a Victory or Indian owner and needed work done. Though, the guys at the Indian area of the show said the company is working on expanding its dealer network.

In contrast to the image of urban modernity being promulgated Harley-Davidson, the three words I would use for Indian's approach are: Authenticity, Heritage, and Quality. Again, though, there were no leather vests with patches, no biker girls, no incessant blaring of "Born to Be Wild." The feeling was high-end, and I think it "sold" well to the crowd. In a country where cruisers get the least amount of love, Indian was garnering quite a lot of wide-eyed attention. I found it especially refreshing to note how many women were keen to sit on these bikes.

Indeed, throughout the show I noticed that women gave most of their attention to cruisers and classic-styled machines –– the "real" motorcycles my wife likes. I would hope that some of the manufacturers' marketing teams were there to notice this. With the exception of Harley-Davidson, too many manufacturers are ignoring women as customers.

Kawasaki

Kawasaki Vulcan S

Women were giving a lot of love to the new Kawasaki Vulcan S, too. Though, they weren't the only ones. Indeed, with the possible exception of the Triumph Bonneville range, I saw no other bike at the show drawing so much attention from such a wide range of ages, genders and social classes. Kawasaki had three models of the Vulcan S on display and still you had to muscle your way through the crowd to sit on one.

Previously I described the Vulcan S as looking a little "meh" to my tastes, but I rescind that criticism having now had a chance to see it in person. It has a great, quality look, is nice and roomy, and is comfortable as all get out to sit on. I have promised myself that I will test ride one as soon as I can. This is dangerous, because the Vulcan S is "affordable" (less than £6,000) and a positive test ride might result in my just going nuts and getting one.

Royal-Enfield
The Continental GT; what a joke. Uncomfortable to sit on, tiny, and looks cheaply made. I was thoroughly underwhelmed. As were most show attendees, it seems –– the Royal-Enfield area was almost as quiet as the EBR space. Whereas it makes sense for a small, relatively new American company to get little attention it felt a little sad to see a long-standing brand like Royal-Enfield being so ignored.

The bikes getting the most attention were the Classic 500s. They were quite popular with ladies who appeared to be in their 70s and 80s. Seeing this, it suddenly became clear why Royal-Enfield has struggled in recent years to find a UK distributor.

Suzuki
Whereas some of Honda's models are long in the tooth almost all of Suzuki's are. And even those that aren't look that way. Case in point: the "new" GSX-S1000F. Its awful paint scheme makes it look 10 years old. Playing the three-word marketing game with Suzuki, the words that come to my mind are: Affordable, Decent, and... uhm... Affordable. Suzuki's bikes are just a little underwhelming.

Regardless, I am still saving up to get a GSX1250FA. To that end, I spent a lot of time staring at and sitting on the GSX1250FA that was on display at the show. I am pleased to report that I found the ergonomics to be quite agreeable.

Additionally, I found myself warming to the V-Strom 650. It is a formidably sized machine and for all the European journeys that I imagine myself taking on a GSX1250FA, I suspect the V-Strom would be just as well suited if not in some cases better. And it gets better mpg. This is something Bob Leong told me years ago; I trust he's in heaven now saying "I told you so."

Triumph

You have to pay extra for a fuel cap that locks.
Because Triumph.

The staff at the Triumph area knew very little about Triumphs. They did not know when the Bonneville line will get ABS. They did not know if the alloy-wheeled Bonneville can take radial tires. They did not know whether certain Bonneville accessories would fit the Speedmaster. They did not know if you can simply add cruise control to the Tiger XR or if you inherently have to get a Tiger XRx. And on. It was annoying.

That didn't stop me from falling in love with the Thruxton, though. My local dealership doesn't have one on display, so I'd not really had a chance to stare at one in person before. Yes, it uses stupid bias tires and the mirrors are only a tiny step above useless and I wouldn't even consider buying one until Triumph adds ABS and you have to pay extra to get a fuel cap that locks, but it is so cool! I mean, really, really cool. Especially in green.

That bike is so cool some part of my brain has already started to rationalise getting one. My ultra-practical side, the side that is trying to keep me from locking myself into the challenge of making monthly payments, is clinging to my ABS dogma like a priest clutching a crucifix at an exorcism. When Triumph eventually delivers anti-lock brakes (I would expect to see it announced before the summer), I may not be able to hold out any longer. Practicality be damned.

Victory
Speaking of bikes that look good in green, oh my goodness is the Gunner a sexy beast. I have never seen a picture of this bike that manages to capture just how attractive it is in real life. Sitting on the machine, I felt a deep urge to just hug it and thereafter refuse to let go. I could easily imagine a scenario in which staff from the National Exhibition Centre were having to pry me off the bike as I wept and shouted: "It's mah baby! She needs me!"

The seat of the Gunner is ridiculously comfortable; the overall ergonomics of the bike felt ideal. Whether the Gunner is £1,300 better than the £9,000 Victory Vegas 8-Ball, however, is up for debate. I realise the former is presently the only Victory cruiser with ABS as an option, but oof.

Meanwhile, I continue to be disappointed by Victory's marketing strategy. Here is where you hear classic rock being blared. Here is where you see scantily clad women tottering on high heels who don't know a goddamn thing about the bikes they're shilling. I mean Not. A. Single. Fucking. Thing.

At one point in the afternoon, there was a guy who demonstrated that Victory bikes can actually be manoeuvred into very tight turns (if you've had shedloads of training and you don't mind the very high possibility that you'll drop your bike). As he was setting up, one of his crew was flirting with a Victory girl and showing her how to start the bike. He had to show her how to twist the throttle.

I almost started screaming. That kind of bullshit is everything that's wrong with motorcycling. All those females at the show who were paying attention to cruisers and classic-styled machines, you will never sell to them if the underlying message of your marketing is that women exist solely to be stared at.

Don't get me wrong, I like sexy women; I married one. But I can just imagine what my wife's response would be if I were to take her to a Victory event where Lycra-clad anorexics galumph about on 6-inch heels amid a soundtrack by The Offspring. In the game of trying to convince her that bikes are a really good idea we should spend money on, I'd be set back a decade.

Motorcyclists often scoff at this idea –– and there are always exceptions –– but when you buy a bike you are buying into a lifestyle. Or, at the very least, you are buying into an acceptance of a lifestyle, a willingness to be associated with that lifestyle. Buy a Honda and you are embracing all those raggedy old white men. Buy a BMW and you are welcoming the association with short, rich guys. Buy a Suzuki and you're telling the world you're a cheapskate. Buy a Triumph Bonneville and you're showing love for those who take facial grooming very seriously. I'd accept those other associations. I do not want to be a part of or condone the idiot misogyny implied by Victory's marketing.

I weep for Jaqui van Ham.

WK Bikes

WK 650TR (aka CF Moto 650TR)

For quite some time I have pondered whether the WK 650TR –– aka the CF Moto 650TR –– is a bike worth having. A China-made machine whose engine copies the Kawasaki Ninja 650 (aka ER-6 outside the United States) and wears the aesthetics of a Honda ST1300, its price is incredibly appealing. In the UK, it will set you back just £5,200

For that, you get a fully faired bike capable of nigh 68 hp that has incorporated hard panniers, a fancy little 12V plug for your sat-nav/phone, and some nifty wee storage compartments in the fairing. By comparison, if you were to get an actual Ninja 650R (known as an ER-6f in the UK) and add accessory panniers and 12V plug, you'd likely be paying close to £7,200.

Of course, you'd also be getting a Kawasaki. With the WK, you get a bike whose name changes depending on which country its sold in and a sparse dealer network made up of independent shops that look as if they are about to shut down. In fact, they frequently do –– a number of dealers listed on WK's site no longer exist.

But still. What if? That's what any economy-minded motorcyclist asks. What if this WK 650TR were actually good enough? What if I really could get all that bike, brand new, for so little money?

I know other people ask this, too, because the two 650TR machines on display were drawing a decent amount of attention at Motorcycle Live. And clearly all of the people looking had similar concerns about quality. Every bloke I saw get near the bike would first take a furtive glance to make sure no staff were watching, then strike some part of the bike with a certain amount of force. They were yanking on the panniers, banging the tank with their wedding rings, tugging at the doors of the fairing compartments, thunking the mirrors, mashing the pedals, squeezing the levers and otherwise treating the display models as roughly as they felt they could get away with. And when I say "they" I mean "we."

If you consider that thousands of people were doing this day after day, it seems the build quality of the 650 TR is pretty good. What that says for the actual running of the bike, I'm not sure. The truth is, I still don't think I'd trust it. Not least because the 650TR does not come with ABS. A quick glance at AutoTrader tells me that a 2010 ER-6f with antilock brakes and less than 5,000 miles on the odometer can be had for £3,100. Givi panniers and a 12V plug will add another £500 or so. That leaves you paying £1,600 less than the asking price of the 650TR, with a still-higher resale value and a legitimate dealer network.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that the 650TR's 12V plug is oddly located right where my knee pushes against the fairing, which means it would probably be useless. My leg would be accidentally disconnecting whatever I had plugged in. I realise I am a bit tall for the bike but I can't imagine anyone being so tiny they would not disrupt the plug. Except for a baby. And babies really should not be riding full-size motorcycles; it's dangerous.

Yamaha

Yamaha MT-09 Tracer (aka FJ-09)

Instead of getting a 650TR you could get an MT-07. Because that is one of the best bikes I've ever ridden. Equipped with ABS it costs just £100 more than the Chinese bike. No, it doesn't have any wind protection or panniers but it is so much fun you won't care.

The bike of most interest to me at the Yamaha exhibit, however, was the newly announced MT-09 Tracer (aka the FJ-09 in the United States). It's got the look of a legitimately solid and useable machine, comfortable ergonomics and will be priced at £8,100 in the UK. That puts it at almost £2,000 less than most of its competition and still several hundred pounds cheaper than the new Triumph Tiger XR, while offering more standard amenities.

Though, you know, if you do a side-by-side comparison, the difference in price is somewhat visible. Just by looking, a person could probably guess the cheaper bike. That's OK, because the MT-09 Tracer is still (probably –– I haven't test ridden one yet, obviously) a good bike. But it's something to be aware of.

What's baffling is that you would have the same experience when comparing the XV950 (aka Star Bolt) and the Harley-Davidson Iron 883. But in this case you'd be wrong about the cheaper bike. The Yamaha actually costs more in the UK. I personally think the Yamaha is overall the better bike, but it is not so much better as to be worth more than a Harley. This is especially true when you can do such direct comparisons in build quality.

I was able to look at the H-D Iron, then walk across the hall and look at the XV950 and see that the latter really doesn't match up. It doesn't even match up against the Kawasaki Vulcan S, which costs almost £2,000 less (the ABS-equipped Vulcan S costs £5,950; the Harley-Davidson Iron 883 with ABS costs £7,650; the XV950R [ABS equipped] costs £7,800). That's a damn shame because I really, really like the XV950. You'd be silly to pay so much more for it, though.

Other stuff

• Did you know Peugeot makes scooters? I didn't either. That's probably down to the fact that I pay almost no attention to scooters. If I lived in London or an equally sprawling mega-city, I'd probably be crazy for them. They certainly look like fun and I dig how much stuff they hold.
• I saw three black people at the show. Three. This was in Birmingham, which is one of the most ethnically diverse cities in Britain and home to the largest black population outside of the London metropolitan region. Three black people, y'all. Whereas there is still work to be done in attracting women to motorcycling there is a whole lot of work to be done in attracting minorities.
• £10 for a cheeseburger, fries and a soda.
• The NEC offered free, covered, secure motorcycle parking. Through this, one of the highlights of the show for me was the opportunity to chat with different people about the bikes they rode. I got into a particularly long conversation with an old white dude from East Anglia about his 11-year-old Honda ST13000 Pan-European, upon which he had ridden some 87,000 miles thus far. Apart from brake pads, tires and the like, he had experienced no problems with the machine and lamented the fact he had no reason to get rid of it. I decided he was a pretty cool dude and secretly admitted to myself that if the opportunity ever presents itself, I will definitely get an ST1300. Though, if I do, I will in my mind probably associate myself with Steve Johnson, who is neither old nor white.

ADSENSE HERE