The Motorcycle Obsession

The Gunner looks cool; it needs ABS.

We're always toughest on the people and things we love, I guess. This is why we sometimes fall into the trap of hurting feelings when offering "constructive feedback" to partners, We want the things we love to present their best selves, to fulfil their potential. And the expression of this desire can sometimes come out as overly harsh.

Outside of personal relationships, though, we pay less attention to feelings. We speak our minds a little more forcefully. This is why we throw things at the TV when watching our favourite teams lose. It is why we turn apoplectic when the politicians supposed to be running the countries we love fail to do so effectively. Caring about something can make you very angry when that something fails to live up to your expectations.

Essentially, this emotion was at the heart of the post I wrote not too long ago, lamenting that the majority of Minnesota motorcyclists are fat, old and woefully under-skilled. I had a few people react negatively to that post (in part, I think, because I inarticulately failed to isolate my criticism to my own specific Minnesota experiences), but I don't really regret writing it. Like the Spanish Inquisition toward the Pope, I possess an almost fanatical devotion to the state of Minnesota. And when I feel it or its residents have let me down in some way I can't help but react with a certain amount of vitriol.

I tell you all this to explain why I am today banging my head against the table and swearing profusely at another Minnesota thing: Victory Motorcycles.

I absolutely love Victory. I love the fact they are from Minnesota; I love the power and ease of the Freedom 106 engine used in all Victory machines; and I love the look of most of their bikes. But this weekend the Mendina, Minnesota-based company announced its 2015 line up, including a "new" model, and my general reaction to said line up is utter exasperation.

Why? Well, first off, let's take a look at this video, shall we?

"Leading the charge is the Victory Magnum," announces the video's breathy voice over.

There are so many things that make me angry about this bike that I'm not sure where to begin. The fact that it's not new is a good place, I suppose. Anyone with eyes can see the Magnum is just a Cross Country with a big, kiddie-toy-esque front wheel and idiot paint job. That's it.

The Cross Country is a hell of a bike, without doubt, but it's been around since 2010. Adding a massive, comical, obviously-compensating-for-something 21-inch front wheel to the Cross Country does not a new bike make. If anything, it just ruins an otherwise brilliant motorcycle by making it considerably harder to handle (a).

Neither is the look of the Magnum new by any stretch. This is the same crap Paul Teutul was churning out of Orange County Choppers back in 2004. Good grief, y'all. The Magnum is a 4-year-old bike with a 10-year-old design.

Also, it is named after a condom. I mean, I realise Harley-Davidson is fond of giving its bikes names that sound like types of condom or dildo (e.g. Fat Boy, Wide Glide, Night Rod Special), but Victory has just straight up stolen the name of a prophylactic and given it to something you're supposed to put between your legs.

Whereas I guess the name High Ball was already provocative enough. Like the Cross Country, it gets new paint and wheels for 2015, but no name change. Meanwhile, the Gunner (itself just a Judge with a different seat) also gets new paint. And that's about it (b).

"As for our touring bikes," growls the voice over. "We let the odometer do the talking."

Huh? In other words: they did nothing.

Most glaring amongst the things they did not do is make anti-lock brakes available on their line of cruisers. I mentioned in my previous post that Victory will have to offer this in the EU from 2016. It appears they are content to wait until the very last minute to offer the feature (or perhaps they're planning to drop out of the European market?). Whereas ABS has existed on all Harley-Davidson models for roughly a year. Victory sees itself as a competitor to the Milwaukee-based brand but the fact is it is getting its ass well and truly kicked.

The Harley-Davidson Softail Slim costs more than a Victory Gunner
but has ABS, tachometer, gear position indicator and keyless start.

Also available on all of Harley-Davidson's models are tachometers, gear position indicators and keyless starts -- the latter of which is not available on any Victory model (c). And, of course, these days Harley-Davidson is developing an awesome-looking electric motorcycle. Victory has responded by offering different paint schemes.

This. Is. Embarrassing.

I have long been a fan of Victory, loving the look of bikes like the Judge, the Gunner and the Boardwalk, and, of course, placing the Cross Country right near the top of Dream Bike list. But seeing the company not try on such an epic scale really frustrates me.

I understand that to a certain extent it behoves Victory not to change too much in an aesthetic sense, because the company is still only 15 years old. Having a load of models that look the same helps to establish a distinct, identifiable Victory "look." But I don't think that vindicates making no other changes in terms of performance, braking, features or ergonomics.

At one point in the promotional video, with heavy rock riffs blaring and the bikes being followed by a shaky camera across desert landscape, the voiceover huffs triumphantly: "In this pack, we're never satisfied."

I'm not satisfied, ether, Victory. You could have done so much better.

____________________

(a)Look closely at about 32-33 seconds in the video and you will notice that even the professional rider Victory hired wobbles this bike. Elsewhere in the video, the same rider is able to go offroading with a Gunner, so that really tells you something about how crappy the Magnum is.

(b) In addition to these minor aesthetic changes, Victory also appear to be dropping the Judge, Boardwalk, Jackpot and Cross Roads models in 2015. That's a shame; I really liked the Judge.

(c)Victory's baggers and tourers offer anti-lock brakes, tachometers and gear position indicators standard. As such, I do not see how it would be at all difficult to offer these things on cruisers.

I try very hard not to pay attention to this blog's stats. It is, after all, a site dedicated to my own obsession and interaction with the motorcycling world -- what's interesting to me. Paying attention to stats inevitably leads to trying to cater to other people's interests. I don't want that. I'm not trying to sell anything here; I'm just sharing my own thoughts and experiences.

Even so, I can't help noticing what "works" in terms of topics, which posts draw the most readers. And in that I know that not a great deal of people care about the various faces of Polaris as much as I do. But hey, as I say: this is my blog. And I am a slut for all things Minnesota. So, I want to carry on a bit from my previous post and talk about a number of the interesting things coming from the Mendina, Minnesota-based company.

Maybe Victory isn't all that bad

Firstly, in the feedback I got on my post about Victory's 2015 model year line up, there were a lot of good points to suggest that I was either being too harsh or not quite seeing things the right way. For instance, Steve Johnson said: "Look at the models riding bikes in this video, and it's evident what they're trying to do, appeal to youth."

I think he's right. Victory seems to be oh so gently, gently, gently moving away from the image created by having R. Lee Ermey as a spokesperson to something a little more diverse and... what's the word? Roguish? It's likely the marketing guys would use the word "young." And in as much, I realise that my complaint about the look of bikes like the Magnum, Hammer and Vegas is something of a reflection on my own narrow idea of what it means to be young.

See, when I repeat the cliché that motorcycle companies should invest more time trying to appeal to younger people, I am expecting them to appeal to the young person I once was, or the young person I would like to be. Here's a Venn diagram of that person:

So, you know, the people buying a Triumph Bonneville or Harley-Davidson Iron 883 (with their parents' money) then going on an "epic road trip" from Portland to Seattle and making a Vimeo film about it. The never-been-poor white kids who who grow beards and force themselves to smoke American Spirit cigarettes in college because it looks cool. That's the kind of kid I was; that's the kind of kid I would probably be. But that is just one sub-culture of youth.

My brother was a completely different type of young person. Always fixing cars and listening to hip-hop, he drove around in an Acura that was lowered so much it couldn't physically get over speed bumps at the Mall of America. It had weird neon lights in inappropriate places and a stereo system so loud it probably violated some sort of UN human rights code. I am willing to bet that the Victory Magnum, with its gaudy paint schemes, flash front wheel and 100-watt stereo system, is totally up his alley.

So, my lament that all of Victory's line up isn't like the Gunner is really just a sign that I probably wouldn't be very good at selling motorcycles. Victory is, though. And it's targeting several different types of young person.

Meanwhile, Jerry Kerns pointed out that "it's unrealistic [to expect big surprises from Victory] this year with the big changes happening in Spirit Lake to add an assembly line then update the other."

Again: very good point. Earlier this year, Victory cancelled its annual American Victory Rally because the company is too occupied making changes to the production facility in Spirit Lake, Iowa -- where both Victory and Indian motorbikes are made. Expecting them to offer something new and ground-breaking during such a period of transition is, perhaps, unfair.

Maybe it's best to just write this off as a "rebuilding year," like when a sports team knows in the pre-season that it is going to suck, and look forward to what may come next year. Victory silently killed off four of its models (Judge, Jackpot, Boardwalk and Cross Roads) in the 2015 line up, which makes room for some new models once the changes at Spirit Lake are complete. Equally, Victory not too long ago registered a patent in the EU for a liquid-cooled cruiser. So, perhaps big things are ahead.

Is Indian offering something more than a paint scheme?

Speaking of big things ahead, there's a lot of talk about what Indian has planned for Sturgis. Over the past week or so, the Polaris-owned motorcycle company announced new two-tone paint schemes for its existing models and thereafter introduced the world to the Indian Roadmaster.

Keen observers will note the Roadmaster is just a Chieftain with a top box. This is effectively the trick Victory pulled with the Magnum -- changing one feature on an existing model and deciding that's enough to merit giving it a different name -- but I feel less critical in this case because Indian is still in its infancy in terms of its Polaris era.

When that new face of Indian launched at Sturgis last year, moto journalists were head over heels at the fact Indian had managed to design and produce the all-new Thunder Stroke 111 engine in the two years since Polaris had bought Indian in 2011. The Thunder Stroke 111 was hailed as a tremendous achievement. So, I've not expected them to floor us again this year. Some new paint and expansion of accessories seems fair.

But then, just a few days ago, Indian posted a rather intriguing picture to its Instagram account showing the existing four models -- Chief Classic, Chief Vintage, Chieftain, and Roadmaster -- lined up next to a motorcycle-sized wooden crate. Written on the crate are simply the numbers: "8.2.14."

In the photo's description, Indian writes teasingly: "We're Not Done Yet."

Thankfully, whatever's in that crate will be revealed Saturday, so I won't have to suffer too much longer. But ever since learning of its existence my mind has been exploding with thoughts of what it might be, with hopes of what I want it to be.

Based on the entire 2015 Victory line up and sleight-of-hand tricks like the Victory Magnum and Indian Roadster, as well as the fact this face of Indian is still so new, a certain part of me suspects that the thing under that crate is just an existing model in a different form. Perhaps a blacked-out Chief. Or maybe even a stripped-down Chief to make it lighter and cheaper. Certainly that would fit with the crate's placement in the Indian Instagram photo. The bikes are lined up in order of price, and the crate is placed to the left of what is presently the least-expensive Indian model: the Chief Classic.

Everyone loves a bobber these days, so maybe Indian will cut down the Chief Classic's fender, lower the suspension, slap on some pegs and a solo seat, and claim it as something new. Or maybe they'll do something that is really new.

Maybe, just maybe, the thing in that crate is an all-new bike. Maybe, just maybe, it is a Scout.

And there is some reason to believe this may be true. Firstly, there is the fact that the Scout is one of the most iconic Indian bikes. Burt Munro and his 1920 Scout are central to the ethos of Indian Motorcycles -- something acknowledged by Polaris Indian when it created the one-off Spirit of Munro bike. It was strange, then, to see the Scout absent when Indian relaunched last year.

The reason for this, according to an interview at the time with Gary Gray, director of production at Indian, was: "As much we like to think about this as glamorous, and art and fun to do, it’s a business at the same time. When you look at the motorcycle market today, heavyweight cruisers and baggers are huge right now."

OK. The Scout doesn't exist for financial reasons. Sure. Right. I don't fully buy that excuse. I mentioned above that I try not to pay too much attention to my blog stats, but I have still noticed that the posts I've written about the Harley-Davidson Iron 883 and the Triumph Bonneville are in the all-time top 10. As are the posts I wrote about the Honda NC750X, the Triumph America, and the Honda CB500F. Every single one of these are lower-displacement bikes.

Meanwhile, Harley-Davidson has gone all-in with the Street 750 and Street 500. I doubt that Polaris' market research turned up dramatically different results than Harley-Davidson's. The fact is, there is a tremendous amount of interest in smaller, more-manageable bikes. And if you look at almost all of the responses to Indian's Instagram post you'll see that people are clamouring for a Scout. Count me among them. As I wrote in a blog post several months ago: "Honestly, I love Indian motorcycles so much that I would be willing to pay a deposit on [a Scout] today, right now, without any idea of what it will be or when it will be available. Just promise it will exist and take my money."

One designer's vision for the new Scout.

Add to all this the fact that in early 2013, Polaris co-sponsored a contest amongst designers to envision the new Indian Scout. That suggests a Scout has always been part of the plan. Statements by Gary Gray last year would seem to back that up: "We don’t want the brand to be pinned down into cruisers, baggers and touring like everyone probably expects. We want to go beyond that."

A single news article from January of this year, suggests they are. In the article, Visor Down reported that "[Indian is set to bring] back the famous 'Scout'."

No other moto-journalism outlet has reported that, so it might normally be a rumour to dismiss, but for the fact the same article correctly predicted the return of the Indian Roadmaster. In my constant, extensive poring over motorcycle websites I've discovered that most moto-journalists, especially those that write for bigger names, are incredibly rigorous about adhering to embargo requests. So, I can envision a scenario in which a Scout really could be inside that crate to be revealed on 2 August, without anyone saying a thing about it beforehand.

I still think the stripped-down Chief theory is more likely, but I want so much for the Scout to be a reality. Something that uses the heritage of the Indian brand to appeal to that vision of a "young person" I mentioned above, and that could compete (or, preferably, excel) within the Sportster/Bonneville/Bolt arena -- something the Dirt Quake dudes could convert into a flat tracker. Folks on Indian and Victory internet forums like to go even further and dream of the Scout being an inline-4. Though, hell, even if Indian were simply to re-jig the old Freedom 100 engine from Victory, give it a heritage feel, ABS, and an affordable price, I'd lap it up.

I can hardly wait for Saturday to find out.

Then there's that weird car thing

At the same time Victory was announcing the Magnum, and Indian the Roadmaster, Polaris itself was pulling back the curtain on the new Slingshot -- a three-wheeled car that makes one think of a motorcycle because it is powered by a single rear wheel and apparently you're supposed to wear a helmet while riding/driving it.

The Slingshot looks like something that would be used in a superhero film, low to the ground and offering room for just two passengers. According to the Star Tribune, the Slingshot is "positioned to compete with Harley-Davidson’s 'Trike' three-wheel motorcycle."

But I don't really see how that could be true since the Slingshot appears to be a kind of adrenaline vehicle and offers minimal storage space (only enough room to store a helmet behind each seat, according to Motorcycle.com). Additionally, the Slingshot has seats and a steering wheel. It is similar to a trike only in the sense that both are three-wheel vehicles.

In truth, I think Polaris has made here a vehicle that is not like anything else at all. Which is very cool. But it prompts the question of who such a thing is for. I mean, if you gave me one I'd accept it happily, but I struggle to imagine the person who would pay hard-earned money for it.

Maybe, again, that's my short-sightedness -- in the same way I struggle to understand who in their right mind would pay hard-earned money for a Victory Magnum. Somebody will, though. And for the sake of a Minnesota-based company's success, I hope a whole lot of somebodies will.

The new Indian Scout, bedecked with accessories

Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to my next bike. I don't know when it will be available in the United Kingdom, nor how the hell I'm going to pay for it (a), but genuinely: this is the bike I want. This is the bike I need. As I said on Twitter, when I woke up on Sunday to learn of the existence of the new Indian Scout, I felt like Ralphie in A Christmas Story. It's as if Indian pulled this motorcycle from my feverish, wishful mind.

Those of you playing along in the United States will see the Scout arrive in dealerships in time for Christmas, according to Indian. So, you might want to make use of the interim time to ensure you've been extra good this year. And if Santa does roll up at your house with one of these, you will have in your possession a bike that is unquestionably the best in its class.

I say that with a caveat, of course. As of this writing, no actual ride reviews of the bike have hit the web. Expect to see them popping up over the next week or so, including a report from fellow blogateers Tina and Steve. But, based on how well received were the Chief and Chieftain (the former earning Cycle World's Best Cruiser of 2014 accolade), it's a fair guess that this thing will tick a lot of boxes.

In its own promotional material, Indian is pitching the Scout as "mid-size," which, in light of the amazing bike it's produced, is possibly a definition that is too confining. But, as I say, within such a class (mid-size cruiser/standard) it is unquestionably the best.

"I think it's f*ckin' sweet," said Rich Christoph, lead designer on the Scout.

The new Scout has a water-cooled, V-twin engine that houses 69 cubic inches of power -- or 1133 cc for those of us living in NotAmericastan. Keen eyes will note that the numbers "1200" are branded on the Scout's engine cover, which helps you to guess the bike most people see as the Scout's primary target in terms of competition: the Harley-Davidson Sportster 1200.

I'm not sure Indian really sees it that way, though. If it does, it's brought a rocket launcher to a knife fight, because the Scout's water-cooled engine allows it to produce 100 horsepower. Whereas the Sportster's air-cooled V twin produces 67 horsepower. Indeed, using horsepower as a metric, the Scout even outclasses larger bikes. For example, the nearly 1800-cc Victory Judge (rest in peace) produced 95 horsepower.

The Scout out muscles the Yamaha XVS1300 (aka Star Stryker) by 28 horsepower.
It beats the much larger Kawasaki Vulcan 1700 by 27 horsepower.
It beats the the Suzuki Intruder 1500 by 22 horsepower.
It beats the Triumph Thunderbird by 14 horsepower.
It tops the Honda CB1100 EX by 12 horsepower.
And it even manages to churn out 4 horsepower more than the much-heralded Moto Guzzi California, a model that landed on a number of publications' best-of lists when it was re-launched a few years ago.

Meanwhile, the Scout produces 72 lb. ft. of torque, which is the same as the Sportster. It seems the only place Harley-Davidson has the edge is in price. In the United States, a standard Sportster costs $350 less than a Scout. Here in the UK, the price disparity is greater, with the Harley-Davidson managing to come in at £1,200 less than the Indian (b).

I love the look of the exhaust.

My guess is that the price difference is so much greater in Her Majesty's United Kingdom because our versions will come with anti-lock brakes. Or so it would seem if you look at the specs sheet on Indian's UK site. It lists ABS as standard (c). That makes sense; from 1 January 2016, anti-lock brakes will be required on all new bikes sold in the European Union.

This feature is not standard on the U.S. versions, however. Probably because Indian is keen to compete on price point. To that end, I'm very much looking forward to the ride report from Bryan Harley of Motorcycle USA, who told me on Twitter(d) that he would find out whether ABS will be offered as an option. I hope it will be. In everything else, I feel Indian has produced a bike that easily vindicates the steeper price tag. It is faster, it is lighter and, in my opinion, it is better looking.

Six speed, belt-driven, and offering an upright riding position on par with the Sportster, Bonneville or XV950, the Scout weighs in just shy of 550 lbs. No, that's not exactly scooter territory but it's still lighter than any comparable bike I can find. And it's just so much better than those bikes. I really can see this being the bike I've hoped for, especially when bedecked in the accessories you see in the picture at the very top of this post. I mean, can we just take a moment to appreciate how cool that bike looks? Click on that picture for a better view.

I think it's the woollen blanket that serves as the cherry on top for me. It's like when Lucky went into full geek mode for a Ural that was sold with a Pendleton blanket. Except, in this case Indian don't sell blankets (maybe it's a Fairbault Woolen Mill blanket), and the bike isn't woefully outdated.

I imagine those bags would look pretty cool after being distressed by British weather.

Not too long ago, I was lamenting the divide between my desire for a bike that I think looks cool and my desire for a bike that can function according to my existing environment and needs. On the face of it, the Scout (with accessories) is the bike to bridge that divide. The bike that can take me to Scotland and Ireland, etc., and the bike I want to be seen on.

I have already e-mailed the folks at Blade Motorcycles in Swindon to ask that they get in touch as soon as they know of the Scout's arrival in Blighty. I am desperate to test ride the thing and thereafter (most likely) hand over all my money to them. Though, there are a few things that I'll be paying particular attention to on that test ride:

Firstly, are those rear shocks sufficient? The same sort of question applies to the Scout's 3.3-gallon fuel tank: is the fuel consumption stingy enough to milk, say, 180 miles from a fill-up? And lastly, is that single front brake enough? It seems to me that 100 horsepower is a lot of "go" which really should have the additional "whoa" of two discs up front.

Nothing, it seems, is perfect. The Scout, however, feels pretty close. I can't wait to learn more about its ride and performance in the coming weeks, and can't wait to test the bike for myself. Hopefully, in the not too distant future, I will be the proud owner of one. I certainly like the idea of such a thing: of being one of the first to take part in this reinvigoration of history.

The more I look at it, the more I love it.

____________________

(a)The longer it takes for the former to occur the more it will aid the latter, giving me time to save money.

(b) Typically, the numbers for dollars and pounds match up. That is to say, if something costs $100 in the United States it will cost £100 in the United Kingdom. That's somewhat unfair to us because the pound is actually worth more than the dollar. So, that $100 item is costing us $160.

(c) I have a rumbling fear of this being a mistake. It seems to me the standard equipment blurb was cut and paste from that of the Chief Classic, because it also lists as standard a light bar and keyless start -- two things the Scout most obviously does not have.

(d) Humblebrag

Yamaha MT-07

One of the clichés of motorcycling is that it attracts a fair few older guys and gals. I suppose, since I am well past the target demographic for the WWE, you can loop me in with that crowd. Though, I don't like to admit it. None of us do. One of the appeals of motorcycling for the old and busted set is that it is, in part, a means of ignoring the truths of our chronologies.

Until I test rode the Yamaha MT-07, however, the feeling had always been one of general youthfulness. No bike had taken me back to a specific time in my life, made me pine to be that particular age again. This did. Chris Cope, aged 18-25: I have found the perfect motorcycle for you.

For those of you playing along in the United States, the MT-07 is known there as the Yamaha FZ-07. I don't know why Yamaha insists on using different names. Istanbul is Constantinople. Whatever you call it, the bike is a twin-cylinder joyride producing roughly 74 horsepower, about 50 lb. ft. of torque, and who knows how many devious little smiles beneath the helmet.

The MT-07 is part of Yamaha's "Dark Side" line of bikes, clothing and accessories, and is unashamedly targeted at the sort of person too young to ever once have thought to him- or herself: "You know, actually, the Honda GoldWing really has a lot of good qualities..."

All the promotional photos show faceless individuals, their features hidden by SWAT-looking Shark Raw helmets, performing stoppies and wheelies and burnouts and aggressive leans in urban settings. The bike's official promo video never actually displays the motorcycle, but instead offers a Japanese anime interpretation set amid a dystopian-industrial megalopolis. It's all very silly stuff and clearly not anywhere on my personal Venn diagram of youthfulness. To that end, it's the sort of bike that might have escaped my notice when I was young enough to be in the MT-07's target demographic. Which is a shame, because I would have loved it.

You make me feel so young

Firstly, I would have loved it because it is so incredibly easy to ride. Quite small as far as bikes go, but with ergonomics that still manage to be acceptable for a 6-foot-1 rider, the MT-07 is light and manageable. And it performs as well at 1 mph as it does at 70 mph. I can't speak for speeds above that because I was in a group of demo riders with strict instructions not to act like... well, like the bike made you want to act. But there was nothing to make me think it incapable of hitting the 130-mph top speed suggested by MCN.

Though, I'm not sure how long you'd want to stay at such illegal space on a bike weighing only 180 kg (396 lbs.). Especially in the posture-posse-approved upright riding position the MT-07 places you in. Additionally, there is no wind protection to speak of. My bike had a tiny, almost unnoticeable windscreen (so unnoticeable I didn't realise it was there until I saw pictures of the MT-07 without one) that forced some air upward in a magical way I couldn't quite figure out: I definitely felt wind swirling around me but didn't experience the chest lift and head bobbing at 70 mph one normally gets on a naked bike.

And for the younger version of me who was living in the Twin Cities, and later San Diego, that wouldn't have really mattered. The bike has all the speed and power needed for aggressive freeway riding, just not the ergonomics or weather protection preferred for long-treks across the Great American Expanse.

It is at slower speeds that the MT-07 really amazes, however. Thanks to its wide handlebars, you can put the damned thing anywhere, making you feel like Lord of the Dance within traffic. Or, actually, a lot cooler than Lord of the Dance. My point is simply that you can hit any gap. It is almost as easy to move about as a bicycle, possessing a low centre of gravity, torquey acceleration and brakes that allow you to stop on a dime. Or a 10 pence piece if you live in the UK.

Additionally, the MT-07 is very well balanced. Which means slow-speed maneuvers were so simple I felt like some sort of IAM riding pro.

Another reason my younger self would have loved the bike is its sound. The stock exhaust offers a nice flex-your-muscles growl that is still gentle enough not to annoy the neighbours. But, then, when I was that age I actually enjoyed annoying people. Yamaha accommodates for this by offering a number of exhaust upgrades to suit whatever douchery level you may desire.

Lastly, my younger self would have loved the price of the MT-07. At £5,349 (or £5,448 if you fork out for that bafflingly magic windscreen) it is an absolute bargain. For that money, you get a legitimate "big"-engined bike (689 cc) producing all the power you'll ever really need, along with anti-lock brakes and an all-digital dashboard that offers a speedometer, tachometer, gear position indicator, clock and trip calculator.

Good even if you're old and busted

Not only "the kids" can enjoy the MT-07. If I lived in a larger urban area, such as London, Manchester, Birmingham, Bristol, or any number of sprawling American metro areas (a), this would be at the top of my list. Fun and agile, it is also particularly fuel-efficient. Some owners have reported getting well above 70 miles to the gallon. That makes it great for commuting.

And though it lacks weather protection, the bike does come with a nice, wide seat to keep you comfy through long spells of traffic. The pillion seat is laughable for use with humans but it serves as a great place to strap a Kriega bag, which I think would fit the bike's aesthetic and feel perfectly.

As part of the demo ride, I got a chance to enter to win an MT-07 –– something I had originally told myself I would sell off and use as a deposit on, oh, say, an Indian Scout. But after having ridden and enjoyed the bike, I can't help thinking that I'd be seriously tempted to keep it. It's that much fun.

I will admit, though, I'm unlikely to spend my own money on one. As I say, I'm not the target audience. The bike feels very tiny to me, to the extent I imagined myself sitting on a unicycle. That's fine when trying to weave through traffic but not a feeling you want when traversing windswept swathes of open country. Especially without weather protection.

And as I mentioned above, the bike's overall teenyness extends to its passenger accommodation. I am not exaggerating when I say the pillion seat is the size of a DVD case. Even in my 20s I didn't know too many people with butts small enough to be comfortable on that.

Additionally, I'm not too hot on the bike's look. My wife referred to the MT-07's styling as "Soviet," which I can sort of see. To me, it looks bug-like and squished, as if the bike had been forced into a too-small box. I talk a lot about the importance of aesthetic and other unquantifiable aspects on this blog, so, as the old saying goes, your mileage may vary. I'm sure there must be out there a sizeable contingent of individuals who think the MT-07 looks cool.

But...

Ignoring the criticisms that stem from my age/personal preferences, I did walk away from my MT-07 experience with a few criticisms. Firstly, the bike seems to love false neutral. I experienced this mostly between third and fourth, but occasionally between fourth and fifth.

It's entirely possible, though, that this issue was specific to the demo bike I was riding. The Yamaha Dark Side Tour has been popping up all over Britain this summer and dozens of people had likely used and abused the bike before me. If I were considering buying an MT-07, I would want to test ride another one to be sure.

My other problem is with the placement of the dashboard: you have to tilt your head down to look at it, taking your eyes off the road. The dashboard has lots of useful information, including a tachometer, but a tach isn't particularly helpful when it's not within your line of sight.

Beyond that, it is a solid machine. If you are young and/or urban, and eager to experience the essence of motorcycling -- the thing that keeps all the old guys and gals lying about their age -- you'd be hard-pressed to find a better machine at a better price. And if some sort of tear in the space-time continuum results in my 20-year-old self suddenly showing up in the present day, I'll know exactly the motorcycle to get him.

––––––––––––––––––––

(a)Basically, if you live in a metro area where it takes more than 20 minutes to get from one end to the other, you should consider this bike.

Not too long ago I wrote a post for the Express Insurance blog about finding a biker-friendly place to eat or hang and how the challenges in accomplishing such a thing start right at the very beginning: What does "biker-friendly" mean?

The blog post was aimed at the UK audience, obviously, but I think it apples to motorcyclists in general. Here's a link:

Biker Friendly Pubs in the UK

For those of you playing along in the United States, I'd be interested to hear how you go about finding places to ride to, what you expect, and what you would like.

I miss this logo.

My father was his mother's favourite son. As the offspring of said son, my brother and I were always able to pick this up in subtle ways; the affection we got from our grandmother seemed a little more effusive. But a guest to the house might have picked it up as well, just by looking at the walls.

In the living room, in plain view of any conversation, was a large, framed photo of my father taken in his senior year of high school. In the afternoon, the sun would hit the photo just right and my father's radiant 18-year-old face would beam with the same intelligent smile that later helped him win a job as a television anchorman.

On an adjacent wall, tucked into a corner that got no sunlight, and not generally within one's line of sight, were two smaller frames containing the senior pictures of Dad's younger brothers. No one ever drew attention to this reality and it is a credit to both my father and his brothers that there has never been any bitterness from them nor air of superiority from him.

I'm sure if you had asked my grandmother about it she would have claimed to have loved all her sons equally. But sometimes it didn't look that way to me. And that's a situation to which I feel certain members of the Polaris family could relate.

Minnesota-based Polaris is, of course, the parent company of both Indian Motorcycles and Victory Motorcycles. Victory is Polaris' own offspring, whereas Indian is adopted. So, it is inaccurate to describe Victory as the red-headed stepchild, but goodness me, that does seem to be how it's getting treated. As Indian continues to wow customers and investors alike, helping increase Polaris' motorcycle revenue by 79 percent in the last year, Victory, it seems, is being shuffled into a small corner.

A few months ago, I got really excited over leaked images of the bike we now know to be the new Indian Scout. At the time, though, just about everyone assumed these images of a water-cooled V twin were of a forthcoming Victory. It made sense. After all, hadn't Polaris VP Steve Menneto told Forbes that Victory planned to focus on "performance and innovation" in the wake of Indian joining the family?

"When we acquired Indian, that allowed Victory to really go all out," Menneto said.

Those of us with a bit of a crush on Polaris dared to dream of Victory really, really going "all out" and producing not just better cruisers but maybe the kind of bikes that are popular in NotAmerica: ADVs, sport tourers, or even just a standard. But let's take a look at what Victory has actually done since Polaris acquired Indian in 2011:

Motorcycle design by Ryan Black-Macken. Is it a future Victory
or an abandoned Scout design?

For its 2012 model year line up (announced in 2011), Victory introduced... uhm... no new bikes. It did, however offer the Cross Country, Vision, Hammer, Vegas and Cross Roads with 8-Ball and Ness paint schemes.
For its 2013 model year line up, Victory brought out the Judge and the Boardwalk. Both bikes carried the Freedom 106 engine that had been introduced in 2010 -- the same engine used by all Victory models.
For the 2014 line up, Victory gave us the Gunner, a stripped down version of the Judge, and made the Judge indistinguishable from other bikes by scrapping its mid-mount pegs.

For the 2015 line up, Victory put a massive wheel on the Cross Country and called the "new" bike a Magnum. It scrapped the Cross Country Tour, Cross Roads, Judge, Jackpot, Hammer and Boardwalk. It changed the paint scheme for the High Ball almost unnoticeably, dropped the last of the Ness paint schemes and reduced the 8-Ball offerings to just one machine: the Cross Country.

This is going all out? This is performance and innovation? Really? To me, it seems as if Victory is being left to whither on the vine. All the technology and passion is going to Indian. That's OK, I guess -- I want to see Indian succeed -- but as someone who has long held goodwill toward Victory, it is very disheartening. I feel most badly for those poor souls who got Victory tattoos.

And when you think about it, it's hard to guess where Victory can go, what it can do without stepping on the toes of (or, more accurately having its toes stepped on by) Indian. America's First Motorcycle Company, as it likes to call itself now, has big plans. In an interview last year, Indian Director of Product Gary Gray told CycleWorld: "We don’t want the brand to pinned down into cruisers, baggers and touring like everyone probably expects. We want to go beyond that. That won’t be a quick process. It’s not going to happen next year, it’s going to happen over fives and tens of years."

The Scout suggests a first step in that direction. Yes, the Scout is still a cruiser, but very definitely not the cruiser that people would have expected. Meanwhile, in a different CycleWorld interview, this one taking place last week with Scout design team leader Rich Christoph, you get a tiny glimpse at the fact Indian is not looking only at Harley-Davidson when it thinks about competition. Christoph also mentions BMW.

It's easy to imagine, then, that Indian would like to become a true motorcycle brand: a company on par with BMW or Triumph, offering several types of bike under the same heritage banner. I'd certainly love to see that. I'd love for an American company to produce bikes that could compete outside of the AMERICA pastiche. But if that happens, what's left for Victory but to die away?

And yet...

The thing is, I don't want to give up hope. I want to believe that Menneto was telling Forbes the truth. Sure, Victory has spent the past four years giving us little more than bling and Jacqui van Ham(a), but good things take time, y'all. Especially when your parent company is busy re-launching a heritage brand that has the potential to kill you dead.

Design by Salvador Gonzalez

Maybe greatness really is right around the corner for Victory. Maybe Polaris' first-born can still live up to its potential. And there are a few shreds of evidence to support such a belief:

Exhibit A: The whole retooling thing. I've mentioned this before; earlier this year Victory cancelled an annual event at its manufacturing plant in Spirit Lake, Iowa, because the plant was in the process of restructuring to be able to take on increased demand. I would suspect the increased demand is coming from Indian (whose bikes are also manufactured in Spirit Lake) but possibly this process has particularly affected Victory, not allowing them to move forward with plans for performance-and-innovation-related projects. Once the manufacturing lines have been transformed, maybe truly new Victory machines will come forth.

Exhibits B, C, and D: Those sketches we saw back in April. Along with the sketches of the bike we now know as the Indian Scout, designs for three other bikes were leaked a few months ago. The designs were all for a water-cooled V twin with a single front disc, so it is possible that the sketches by Rich Christoph, Ryan Black-Macken and Salvador Gonzalez were just rejected versions of the Scout. But maybe not. Certainly some of the designs seem to wander too far away from the heritage look that Indian would have almost certainly wanted from the very beginning. Perhaps one or all of the additional sketches are of future Victory models. Perhaps they have not yet been introduced because Polaris wanted Indian to get the credit for introducing a water-cooled middleweight.

Exhibit E: I'm not sure Sturgis is really Victory's thing. There's a general feeling -- though I'm not sure I've ever seen this actually stated by them or Polaris -- that Victory would like its focus to be on younger riders. Occasionally you can see suggestions of this in Victory marketing and promotion, though it is very stop-start (b). If Victory really wants to get a younger audience, it'll need to produce a few bikes that cost less than £9,500 (in the US, the cheapest Victory model costs $12,500). But I digress. My point is that my lamenting the future of Victory comes on the heels of an Indian announcement at Sturgis.

And with all due respect to those who attend, I wouldn't really class Sturgis as a young person's event. Take a look at photos of participants and there don't appear to be a whole hell of a lot of them who wouldn't remember the Gulf War. Well, OK, perhaps some wouldn't remember, but that has to do with their consumption of adult beverages. You get my point. Besides, Indian seems keen to reclaim the event as its own, making its biggest announcements during the week of the rally. So, perhaps it is not that Victory has nothing new to offer but that it doesn't want to offer it at Sturgis.

After all, such was the case with the reveal of the Gunner. It didn't slot itself into the 2014 line up until early February.

Design by Rich Christoph

Exhibit F: These things take time. I'm not sure where I picked up this little factoid, but apparently the average time from concept to completion for a motorcycle is 5 years. So, if Polaris really did allow Victory to "go all out" when it acquired Indian in 2011 maybe not enough time has passed for us to see the fruits of that decision.

It's been five years since Victory introduced the Freedom 106 engine, the powerplant behind all its existing models. That was effectively the last time it did anything more than aesthetic changes. Keeping in mind Victory's past history of launching its new models late (its timing with the Judge was similar to what it did with the Gunner), maybe a new -- truly new -- machine will show up within the next six months. Maybe even a few new models: that could account for having taken the axe to six models for 2015.

If Victory doesn't do this, however, I'll be ever more inclined to fall in with the cynics who say Victory is in the death throes. You can't build a prosperous future simply by slapping on a new coat of paint. Personally, I hope it pulls something out of the bag. Although I can't quite picture what Victory could be were Indian to become a full, multi-bike-type brand, I'd certainly like to see it try.

____________________

(a)Not that I'm complaining about the latter. I've got a crush on Jacqui van Ham.

(b) Additionally, there is often a latent sexism in Victory's marketing that I'm not sure works well with younger crowds.

Yamaha MT-09

The Yamaha MT-09 (aka the Yamaha FZ-09) looks almost exactly the same as the Yamaha MT-07. It has a similar name and is targeted at the same young, urban audience. Internally, of course, it is quite different -- being powered by a three-cylinder engine rather than a twin -- but after getting stupid giddy for the MT-07, I had figured the MT-09 would be pure joy.

After all, some people insist a triple is the best of both worlds: the fun pull of a twin with the smoothness of an inline four. I'll admit my experience with triples is limited, having only ever ridden that engine configuration during a long day on a Triumph Tiger Explorer XC, but it had instilled in me a respect for them. Firing up the MT-09, my heart was pounding in anticipation.

"This is going to be a blast," I thought.

I was wrong. The MT-09 manages to capture all of the negative aspects of the MT-07 with very few of the positives.

You, too, could look like a villain in a Captain America film.

The MT-09 is part of Yamaha's "Dark Side" line of bikes, clothing and accessories aimed at, well, probably the same sort of demographic that the Honda NM4 is targeting. Or, perhaps the more hooligan side of that demographic: youngish people who live in large urban areas and have figured out how to ride their bikes in ways not taught in an MSF course. Indeed, when I visited the Dark Side Tour in Birmingham recently, Yamaha had a bike rigged up to teach people how to do wheelies.

Additionally, the tour featured a stunt rider doing burnouts, stoppies, wheelies, and donuts around a scantily clad model. The rider was dressed in all black, with a visor so dark you could not see his face. He was a sort of ninja with a motorcycle. It was all a bit silly, and , as I say, out of my personal personal demographic. But if you look at the success of moto-vloggers like Jake the Garden Snake or RoyalJordanian, it's clear that being a faceless, slightly hooligan rider appeals to many people.

With its 850-cc engine delivering a whopping 115 horsepower, you'd think the MT-09 would be the ideal machine for hooligans of all variations, slight or otherwise. But the way in which that power is delivered ruins the experience.

I've read a few other reviews of the MT-09 since my ride and it appears that the problem is down to the MT-09's fuel mapping. However, phrases like "fuel mapping" are too technical for me. I don't know what it means. I spent a little time on Wikipedia trying to figure it out, but I still don't feel I can legitimately discuss it without sounding like a child who has just learned a big word. So, my apologies for putting this in Big Dumb Chris terms: the MT-09 has different riding modes and none of them are all that great.

On the right handlebar of the MT-09 there is a little button that says "Mode." Press it, and you will see a display on your dashboard switch between "A""STD" and "B" modes. I'm assuming STD means "standard" rather than "sexually transmitted disease."

In salesman speak, setting the bike in A mode results in a "sharp" throttle response. However, the word I would use is "jerky." Really jerky. Really, really jerky. I'm guessing this sort of thing could be useful for people attempting wheelies from a dead stop, but for anyone hoping to get from one place to another it is annoying as hell. Increasing or decreasing throttle even the tiniest little bit results in your almost being thrown from the bike.

Not as cool as its little brother.

Meanwhile, also in salesman speak, setting the MT-09 in B mode results in a "smooth" ride. I found that the actual word to be used for it is "boring." With the press of a button, the hooligan-inspired MT-09's ride was transformed into that delivered by my Honda CBF600.

My Honda is an inline four. There's definitely nothing wrong with that. Straight four engines are renown for their smoothness, and the one in my Honda is wonderfully forgiving of accidental throttle blips or too-quick roll-offs. But as I've mentioned before, it lacks any sort of real character. There's not a lot there to make you shout "woo!"

And still there's not necessarily anything wrong with that, either. Bland and smooth can be OK if it exists in a package that is useful -- for instance, a bike that can take you long distances. But that's not the case with the MT-09. Like its little brother, the MT-09 is quite tiny, has no weather protection, offers a passenger seat so minuscule it is only suitable for pre-teens and anorexics, and looks to have been designed by Pablo Picasso during his cubism phase.

By the way, the difference between B and STD modes was indistinguishable. I tried switching between the two in several different scenarios and genuinely could not sense a difference. Both modes turned the MT-09 into a CBF600. All three modes turned the MT-09 into a disappointment.

Other negatives included a dashboard that is not within your line of sight when riding, meaning you have to look down and take your eyes off the road to know your speed or RPM, etc. And I found the MT-09's brakes to be a little too grabby. Possibly that feature, like the obnoxious A mode, is useful for performing stunts, but it creates an awkward situation when trying to come to a gentle stop.

For me, then, the MT-07 is the better bet. It gives you the same look while costing a lot less and offering up a hell of a lot more fun.

UPDATE: According to Motorcycle.com Yamaha has registered a trademark in the European Union for a sport-touring model based on the MT-09. This makes a lot of sense and the designs show a decent-looking machine, assuming the passenger seat is big enough for adult bottoms. I'm still not totally convinced on the look (that strange shard-of-glass windscreen, for example) but perhaps with some panniers it would look OK. If the price were right that might help one overcome the looks.

It appears Bibendum (aka "the Michelin man") is attempting to kill these people by throwing tires at them.

It's been a few months since the good folks at Michelin gave me a set of Pilot Road 4 tires, and in that time I've managed to clock up roughly 2,700 miles on them, in pretty much all weather, so I thought now might be a good time to offer a review.

If you have attention deficit disorder or don't like to read, the short version of my review is simply this: Buy yourself a pair.

I say that without reservation for a number of reasons. Firstly, because it was the Pilot Road 4 that taught me tires do actually make a difference. Oh, sure, I had read plenty of articles in which moto-journalists were yammering about the feel of a tire and how long it takes to warm up and so on, but my general feeling was that this was gibberish -- stuff they were just saying because, you know, they've got to say something. Or, perhaps, I felt, if it was not total gibberish it was irrelevant to anyone who rides a bike at anything near legal speed.

I mean, a tire's a tire, right? I've replaced plenty of tires on my cars, pickup trucks and bicycles over the years and I honestly could not tell you what brand I used on any of them. Had you asked me, I would have said: "Uhm, the one that fits and that costs the least."

It's like regular oil. Don't buy an expensive bottle of the stuff just because you've heard of the brand name. That's stupid. Oil is oil. It all comes out of the ground. There's no difference (a). And I figured rubber couldn't be too terribly different, either. Certainly I had not noticed a difference between the Bridgestone Battlax tires that had been on my Honda and the bargain-bin things that had been on the bikes I used in my training courses. Nor had I noticed differences in the tires on the various bikes I had to that point test ridden (b).

But then I had the Pilot Road 4s fitted to my bike and suddenly, instantly, I understood that a tire matters.

The main selling point of Pilot Road 4 tires is that they perform 17 percent better than the competition on wet roads. As luck would have it, I got to test this claim right away because it was raining on the day I had the tires fitted (of course, it is always raining in Wales). Despite the tires still being well within their break-in period, I could feel the difference in the first roundabout I navigated. The tires just held.

A few months later, as I was riding through torrential rain in Scotland, the tires just held. Through mud that had washed onto the road, or cow manure left there by inconsiderate farmers, and on the overpainted surfaces of British roadways, the tires have just held. Obviously, I am continuing to be cautious in these scenarios but the difference in feel, and the confidence that delivers, is notable.

The reason the tires stick so well has to do with the siping and the rubber compounds used in the tire. If you're like my spell check and have never seen the word "siping" before, that's OK. I hadn't heard of it either until one of the Michelin guys spent some time explaining that they are the lines in tires that push water away. The siping on the Pilot Road 4 is so effective that it results in my one and only, and very insignificant gripe about the tires: Your boots and trousers will get a little more dirty because of all the stuff the tires are pushing away.

Meanwhile, the rubber compounds are magical in the sense that just in touching the tires they feel sticky.

They stick amazingly well to dry roads, too. And the confidence they have delivered has had a dramatic effect on the quality of my riding. OK, yes, my chicken strips are still pretty wide but it is now incredibly rare for a car to catch up with me in corners. Whereas not so long ago, a ride on a twisting Welsh highway would have involved frequently pulling over to let other traffic pass.

The other selling point of these tires is that they last 20 percent longer than their predecessors, the Michelin Pilot Road 3. What that actually means, though, is hard to gauge. When I had the opportunity to share a few beers with (c) some of the Michelin folks they were pretty unwilling to give me any sort of mileage figure. Different people ride differently, after all. And on different road surfaces and with different bikes.

In my own case, I have, as I say, put roughly 2,700 miles on the tires so far. Within those miles are some pretty long stretches of motorway, a goodly amount of curving A roads (i.e., two-lane roads with a limit of 60 mph), some even curvier B roads (roads most Americans would describe as a bicycle path), plenty of crumbling urban surfaces, and even a tiny bit of off-road stuff. Despite all of that, the tires still look quite new. I'm certain I'll get another 2,700 miles out of them, at least, and wouldn't be at all surprised to not find myself even considering replacing them until they've gone past the 10,000-mile point.

Another positive, which may just be luck on my part, is that they hold pressure quite well. I check my tires before each ride and have found myself making far fewer adjustments with my Michelins than I was with the Bridgestones.

Michelin Pilot Road 4 tires do tend to be a little more pricey than some others but I feel it's worth it. Honestly, I love these tires so much that they affect my thinking about which bike I want next. For example, the BMW F800GT stays on my list simply because it comes equipped with Pilot Road 4s as standard.

____________________

(a)Note that I am talking about regular oil here. I pretty much feel the same way about synthetics but if someone I trusted had a strong argument in favour of a specific synthetic I'd probably take his/her advice.

(b)Admittedly I'm not terribly aggressive when I test ride a bike. I don't want to end up having to pay for any damage.

(c) And by that, I mean they drank me under the table.

The Spinnaker Tower, as viewed from Old Portsmouth.

Last weekend I got a chance to spend a little time in South Downs National Park and the surrounding environs, including my old stomping grounds of Portsmouth -- where I attended university in the late 1990s. It was that year in an exchange programme that initiated my love affair with Britain and eventually resulted in my moving back here just shy of a decade later.

I feel inclined now to do a bit of self promotion and point out that I used a number of my experiences from that exchange year in my first novel, The Way Forward, which you can buy for Kindle from both Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

But I digress. The point is simply that while I was in that particular part of the world I couldn't help observing it contained a hell of a lot more motorcyclists than Wales. And it was not just that Southern England appeared to have more riders but also a greater diversity of them. Whereas Wales is the land where Bandits and Fazers come to die, Southern England delivered sights of Moto Guzzis, top-tier Ducatis, the first VMAX motorcycles I've ever seen on actual British roads, and a great contingent of Harley-Davidsons, as well as the usual parade of Triumphs and BMW R1200GS machines.

Meanwhile, there were signs of greater acceptance of motorcycles. Cars were quicker to shift over in their lane to give me space when I was filtering and more businesses had motorcycle-specific parking. At Gunwharf Quays, for instance, they had provided not just special motorcycle bays but lockers for helmets and gloves, as well as chains to secure your bike against theft. Oh, and parking for motorcycles was free. It all made me feel like a welcomed and valued customer -- not something one necessarily feels in South Wales.

All of this got me to thinking: what makes one area more rider friendly than another? Are there certain factors that lead to an environment that is more conducive, more welcoming to motorcycling? To some extent, these are questions fellow blogger MotoCynic asked himself after a recent visit to New York City. There, he found far more riders than he sees in Los Angeles, despite the latter being theoretically a better place to ride (legal filtering, year-round sun, etc.)

Rockers were once a common sight on Britain's South Coast.

To some extent, motorcycling is just naturally more entrenched in Southern England than in Wales. After all, the South Downs borders the town of Brighton: home to the famous mods and rockers fights of the 1960s. And, of course, ever encroaching on the South Downs' northern border is the London metropolis: the culture king of the British Isles for roughly a millennium. It seems somewhat logical to think that cultural richness would result in a higher rate of motorcycle ownership. That would certainly back up MotoCynic's observation of New York City having more riders than Los Angeles (a).

Though, it wouldn't explain why New Hampshire, Iowa and South Dakota are the top three states for motorcycle ownership in the United States. Nor would it necessarily explain why I encountered so many riders in Hampshire and West Sussex -- counties that are well outside of London (b).

Possibly it is another kind of richness that comes into play. The average income in Southern England is considerably higher than in Wales, so perhaps a motorcycle-friendly community is borne of a people with a good deal of disposable income. But, again, that doesn't seem to fit terribly well with U.S. figures. Los Angelinos are not exactly impoverished compared to New Yorkers, and I can't think of a great many wealthy South Dakotans. Tom Brokaw and Brock Lesnar, I suppose (c).

(Though, perhaps it is worth noting that in the United States, none of the 10 poorest states are in the list of 10 most motorcycle-owning states)

Similarly, statistics in the UK also don't seem to back up the "wealth = motorcycles" theory. Yes, four of the top 10 motorcycle-owning postcodes in the UK are in London but three other top postcodes are in far-less-posh Leicestershire (d).

To that end, population density doesn't seem to have much to do with things, either. I had thought it might, since Southern England has the highest population density in all of Europe. And certainly there are more people crammed in per square mile in New York City than in Los Angeles. But it doesn't explain South Dakota nor why nearly 1 in 10 people in Southport (in northern England) own a motorcycle.

Generally, the only constant I can find is geography. It would appear that, contrary to what you might think, motorcyclists live in areas that aren't terribly hilly. There are some exceptions to this rule, too, and clearly it is not the only factor, else Indiana would be the motorcycling capital of the USA.

So, what is it? What makes a city or region motorcycle-friendly? What magical thing or things need to exist to create a true motorcycle-enthusiast scene? Is it just random, inexplicable luck? Or is there something to it? Of the places you've been where motorcycles and motorcycling were popular, what were the commonalities? I'd like to know, if not simply to help me choose where to visit.

____________________

(a)Los Angeles may be big and may be home to Hollywood but it is nowhere near as culturally rich as New York City.

(b) Distance is always a strange thing in the UK. In actual terms, no part is so very far away from another. But things can feel far away. Perhaps the best way for an outsider to understand this distance is to add a 0 to whatever mileage exists between point A and point B. For example, Cardiff is only 150 miles from London but it feels 1,500 miles away. So, physically the South Downs may be just 50 miles from London's centre but they feel 500 miles away.

(c) Both of whom were born in Webster, South Dakota -- a town of 1,800 people which is also, strangely, home to two different women I have dated.

(d) Possibly there is a connection here in that Leicestershire is home to the headquarters of both Triumph and Norton, as well as two of Britain's most famous motorcycle race tracks: Donnington Park and Mallory Park.

The Iron 883 is one of Harley-Davidson's coolest bikes.

Dearest Harley-Davidson,

Here's the thing: the Iron 883 is easily one of the coolest-looking bikes you make. The Forty-Eight and Seventy-Two hold their own, and I certainly wouldn't turn my nose up at a Low Rider, but for me a simple denim black Iron 883 still takes the sexiness prize. Meanwhile, within its price bracket the Iron 883 is the undisputed champion across all brands when it comes to looks. Sure, just about any Honda can outrun it, a Triumph Bonneville can compete in the vague terms of "authenticity," and a Yamaha XV950 offers an improved overall experience, but in the battle of aesthetics and fit and finish the Iron 883 reigns supreme.

And clearly I'm not the only person who feels this way. According to statistics from the UK Department for Transport, you sold 429 Iron 883 models in Her Majesty's United Kingdom last year, considerably more than any other Harley-Davidson model. The next best-selling model was the Forty-Eight, with 259 units sold. I'll get to the Forty-Eight in a moment.

Keeping in mind the UK is a relatively small market and so many people here claim to dislike cruisers (for example, Triumph sold just 175 Americas and a whopping 1,386 Street Triples in 2013), the numbers are damned impressive. I have no doubt that in the larger, far more pro-Harley market of the United States the Iron 883 is hugely popular. You must know that you've got a good thing on your hands.

But the reason I'm not presently riding one around is, well, you know what I'm going to say, don't you? It's a little underpowered. I mean, yes, I realise that Leslie Padoll rode across the United States on one, but in my own experience of riding the SuperLow 883 (which is just a less attractive Iron 883 for short people) I found the engine somewhat wanting at motorway speeds.

That was less the case with the Sportster 1200, though, and ever since you started offering that bike with anti-lock brakes (thank you) it has danced constantly in and out of the top slot of my What I Want list. I worry somewhat about overcoming wind blast and the less-than-generous travel of the bike's rear shocks but the main thing that puts me off (the current face of) the Sportster 1200 is its looks.

And that brings me to the point of this letter to you: Would y'all please consider offering an Iron 1200?

The Forty-Eight is sexy but mostly pointless.

OK, yes, I realise that your response to such a request might be something along the lines of: "Well, actually, Chris, we sort of already do. It's called the Harley-Davidson Forty-Eight."

Fair enough. The Forty-Eight is indeed a great-looking bike and has a number of the same styling aspects as the Iron 883. But that tank, guys; it only holds 7.9 litres (2.1 US gallons). And those marshmallow tires. And those intolerable rear shocks with only 1.2 inches of travel. That's not really a bike for riding any further than one would travel on a bicycle.

See, what got me thinking about all this is the new Indian Scout. That thing should be making you nervous.

Officially, Indian says the Scout isn't really designed to compete against the Sportster. But in the same breath it will happily point out that the Scout and Sportster are similarly priced. And, indeed, in internet forums and such most people can't resist making the comparison. So, regardless of whether you like it or whether it's fair, the Sportster is going to have to compete against a machine that can run rings around it.

Ultimately, in order for the Sportster to survive, you are going to have to develop a different engine. But that costs a lot of money and takes a lot of time. In the interim, an intelligent move -- something you could initiate immediately -- would be to create some sort of Iron 1200. Here's why:

A lot of sane people and a lot of cruiser riders (note those are two different categories) are content to accept they don't really need a bike that delivers 100 horsepower. The 67 hp delivered by the Sportster 1200 engine is probably just enough -- especially when packaged in a bike that offers a number of the standard Harley-Davidson features, such as anti-lock brakes, gear indicator, and keyless start. All of those are things that don't (yet) exist on the Indian Scout (a). And all of those are things that the economy of scale would allow you to deliver at a price considerably lower than the Scout.

I guess what I'm saying here is this: Please bring back the Nightster. An updated (i.e., better paint scheme) version with as many of your modern bells and whistles as you can throw at it while still keeping the price below that of a Scout. And maybe a better suspension. And maybe don't call it a Nightster because that sounds like the name of a condom.

Bring back the Nightster.

_____________________

(a)ABS will be standard on Scouts sold in Europe since the feature will soon be required by law. Notably, and perhaps as a result of ABS, the Scout will cost £1,200 more than a Sportster in the UK.

2015 Harley-Davidson Fat Boy Lo

Randy Newman was clearly wrong. Short peopledo have somebody to love. Or, at least, it appears they have somebody who loves them: namely, America's largest motorcycle manufacturer. Harley-Davidson's recently announced 2015 model year line up is so littered with "low" models you'd be inclined to think we are suffering some sort of worldwide shift in people's stature.

Well, actually, we are. Over the past several decades -- thanks to improved health and better diet -- the average person's height has increased, with the typical American male now being roughly 5 feet 10 inches tall (a). When Harley-Davidson first went into business more than a century ago, the average dude was a good 4 inches shorter.

I suppose some might argue Harley-Davidson has decided to just ignore this data and chase after the dwindling number of short fellas with a Napoleon complex: offering large, loud, shiny things for tiny men seeking to compensate for something. But, of course, the truth is that H-D is clearly chasing after a different demographic, the average American variant of which is 5 feet 4 inches tall: women.

For all the criticisms people may have about Harley-Davidson (some of which are valid), it is hard to fault the company for its efforts to attract females to riding. Personally, I sometimes feel that how it does that sometimes comes off as sexist condescension, but still I've seen no other manufacturer even make an attempt. While many other motorcycle companies still treat women as slutty accoutrements Harley-Davidson is hosting Garage Parties and teaching them how to ride.

So, huzzah to Harley-Davidson. Huzzah to it for working to make motorcycling better (because more people and more kinds of people make just about anything better). But if you're a 6-foot-1 chap such as myself, all these shorty options can leave you feeling a little, well... low. Or, at least, unimpressed. There's not anything that's really new in the 2015 line up.

Harley-Davidson Freewheeler

Well, perhaps that's not true. The Freewheeler trike is brand new, but, again, I'm well out of its intended demographic. Or, I'm pretty sure I am. In truth, I'm not certain about trikes because... uh... ehr...

OK, I'm going to have to stop right here and admit that what comes next is a major violation of this blog's standard code of not doing a tinkle on anyone's parade. Generally, I try very hard not to be judgemental of what a person rides (though I will occasionally be critical of how a person rides). If you like it, ride it.

But trikes, man. Ugh (b).

Actually, no. Not ugh.

See, I can get with the idea of something like a Can-Am Spyder. No, it's not exactly my sort of thing but I can sort of kind of see its appeal. If I stare at it long enough I can almost make myself like it (until I look at the price tag). And, indeed, I can foresee a time -- maybe 30 or 40 years from now -- when I might not trust my spindly old-man legs to adequately balance the weight of a two-wheeled vehicle, but I would still want to enjoy a motorcycle-like experience.

In that scenario, the Can-Am's charms grow on me considerably. I can picture myself wearing a modular helmet (replete with fuzzy microphone headset) and a neutral-coloured textile jacket or full Aerostitch, trundling across the great North American landscape -- from one Good Sam Club campsite to another -- on a luxuriant Spyder RT, and feeling perfectly OK about it. In part because I would know that the vehicle I was on, though offering a motorcycle-like experience, was not trying to be a motorcycle.

There is a massive difference between the three-wheeled
Can-Am Spyder and the three-wheeled Harley-Davidson Freewheeler: only one of those things is trying to be something it's not.

To give you a sense of what I'm talking about, take a look at the two pictures on the left. Both pictures are of buses that are short. But there's a big difference, isn't there? Not just in look but in character. One of the short buses takes "special" kids to school, and the other one takes corporate executives to the airport.

Therein you have the difference between the Freewheler and the Spyder. Sure, both vehicles have three wheels but the former looks as if it was made for people who have trouble figuring out how to tie their shoelaces.

That's a brutal and cruel thing to say, I know. And perhaps one day when I'm 80 years old and riddled with gout, I will have a change of heart. Perhaps I will take to calling Jenn "the old lady." I'll wear a bandanna. And on the Freewheeler's waterproof trunk (in which we store our Depends) we'll have a bumper sticker that says: "We're spending our kids' inheritance."

But for now: no. As far as I'm concerned, that thing is just a great big bunch of no.

Speaking of things that are aesthetically displeasing, for 2015 Harley-Davidson has also brought back its Road Glide model. On this one, though, I am happy to accept that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Some people may love it. To me, the fairing makes the Road Glide look like Bender from "Futurama". But all the press I've read about the bike suggests it's a quality machine. And I suppose you don't really see how a bike looks when you're riding it. So, like having sex with an obese person in the dark, the newly returned Road Glide is probably enjoyable if you don't ponder the aesthetics.

Sadly, a model that Harley-Davidson has not brought back is the Nightster, something that I think could (temporarily) compete with the new Indian Scout if adequately loaded with H-D bells and whistles like keyless start and anti-lock brakes. And everywhere else in the 2015 model year line up it's just a case of aesthetic changes and CVO models.

2015 Harley Davidson CVO Road Glide Ultra

I refuse to take CVO offerings seriously. If you've got that much money I suggest moving to Detroit, where the asking price of a CVO Road Glide Ultra (c) will instead get you a three-bedroom house. Once you move in, I suspect one or two of your new neighbours will be able to get you a slightly used Harley-Davidson at an incredible "discount."

Overall, although it is still easily more impressive than Victory's 2015 line up, I have to say I feel disappointed by what Harley-Davidson plans to offer in the next year. Or, at least, deflated. I guess I had hoped that with the resurrection of Indian there would be a constant flow of ever-more awesome things.

However, maybe I'm looking at it too narrowly. I mean, the Street models are also part of the 2015 line up, and to that end, it's not as if all the models of a model year are announced at once. For example, the 2014 Lowrider didn't get added to the line up until Daytona Bike Week.

____________________

(a)Bafflingly, statistics show the same average height for British men. I find that interesting because I feel much taller here than I do when at home. Perhaps this is because "home" for me is Minnesota, where so many people are of Scandinavian stock. There, despite the fact I am 6-foot-1, I tend to think of myself as a smaller guy.

(b)Needless to say, all my criticism of trikes is automatically rescinded for any individual who rides one because of disability. If I were missing a foot or suffered spells of vertigo or some other such thing that affected my balance and dexterity you can bet your prosthetic tushy that I'd happily be seen on a trike.

(c) Again, Harley-Davidson insists upon giving its bikes names that sound like condoms or dildos.

BMW F800GT

I've been talking a lot about various cruisers lately -- lots of posts on Harley-Davidson, Indian and Victory machines. I think that may be the residual effect of having visited home earlier this summer: cruisers on the brain.

For reasons that I can't quite determine, that style of bike is king in the Land of the Free. Meanwhile (and this may be one of those chicken-or-the-egg things), the American landscape is one that is particularly hospitable toward cruisers. As I've mentioned before, that's not necessarily the case here in Her Majesty's United Kingdom. Nor many other places in Europe. Our narrow, winding, millennium-old roads and multitudinous roundabouts are not exactly the best places to be navigating a lumbering piece of machinery that weighs more than a high school girl's basketball team.

Yet, there is still a big part of me that wants to get one (a cruiser, I mean; I wouldn't know where to put a high school girl's basketball team). Part of that, of course, is because I'm American. On some weird subconscious level I seem to see owning a cruiser as a declaration of nationality -- a loud, chrome-laden means of saying: "I will never give up my US passport."

But on a larger level, especially as pertains to Harley-Davidson and Indian, the appeal for me is that weird concept of heritage: the idea that by purchasing a particularly assembled collection of metals, plastics, rubbers and toxic fluids, you are tapping into some kind of narrative, that a company's history and aura somehow runs through every bike and its owner. Yes, I know that is nonsense. I am a rational human being with a functional brain, who understands that inanimate objects do not have a soul or spirit or character, etc. But I am a sucker for the idea of it nonetheless.

I'm in the right place for such thinking. I live in Europe, for the love of Pete. This place is nothing but heritage. Triumph, Moto Guzzi, Norton, Ducati. Hell, even KTM is 80 years old (a). But for me, the company with the weightiest heritage -- the greatest veritas -- is a little German outfit that's been producing motorcycles since 1921: BMW.

I feel John -- in blue jeans, black leather jacket and sunglasses --
is the cooler-looking one in this picture.

When I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance it was with John Sutherland (b) whom I most identified. I like good things and I'm willing to pay for quality. I, too, would be wary of using a beer can to fix my bike. And like John, there is something about BMW's heritage of quality, of making really good products, of paying attention to small details, that appeals to me.

And when I think of bikes that I would want that are not American cruisers, machines that are, in fact, appropriate to the riding conditions where I actually live and to the kind of riding I actually do, I most often come back to BMW (and Honda, but more on that in a future post), because it possesses that element of heritage that is so strangely important to me.

Specifically, the bike I keep coming back to is the F800GT. One of the more affordable models in BMW's stable, it is a hell of a lot of bike for the money -- offering 90 horsepower, 63 lb.-ft. of torque, and fuel efficiency upward of 70 mpg for £1,000 less than a Harley-Davidson Sportster.

True, it doesn't look as good as a Sportster (to me) but over time I've found that the F800GT has grown on me. It first started showing up on my radar about the time I was comparing various middleweight sport tourers and I'll admit my initial reaction to it was lukewarm. Something about that front end wasn't quite doing it for me. It looks just a bit as if the front wheel was an afterthought. But then I started reading about the bike -- about its performance, its low centre of gravity, its bells and whistles, its belt drive (no more fussing with chains!) -- and slowly, slowly it started looking better and better to me.

For instance, I'm now kind of fond of that enormous hump of a tank (that's not really the tank). It looks like the hump of a Brahma bull. I could ride around pretending I'm Guilherme Marchi. Or, actually, not really. Because the 798cc beast that is the F800GT only weighs 470 lbs. (less than my Honda CBF600 SA) and is, by most accounts I've read, a joy to be astride. And the parallel twin engine performs a hell of a lot better than a bull, too. Here's a video of Adam Waheed going nuts on one at Mulholland. If you've got the cajones to lean so hard you drag panniers, the F800GT's got the goods to let you do it.

It's highly unlikely that I'd ever push a motorcycle to such extremes but increasingly I do enjoy a good curvy road or two, and all that performance can be useful in other ways. I'm doing more travelling for work these days, and that means longish jaunts across the country at European highway speeds (i.e., upward of 75 mph). Having the ability to dance out of sticky situations quickly is obviously an advantage.

I've not yet had the chance to test ride an F800GT myself but I have sat on one in a showroom and the ergonomics worked surprisingly well for me. If I remember correctly, my exact words when sitting down and placing my feet on the pegs were: "Oh. Oh, yes. This is me."

A nice machine for going long distances.

Needless to say, that kind of comfort would come in handy when making a run up to Scotland or out to Norfolk. Plus, it's a BMW. When you travel for business you generally want to present the best side of yourself in all ways. And I kind of like the image of myself that I get when I imagine riding a BMW. Is that petty? Hell yes, it is. But that doesn't keep it from being something I think about. I suspect some of the people I interact with might think of it, too.

That said, if everything were equal in the world I'd still choose an Indian Scout, which has similar engine performance and an American heritage and Minnesota connection that makes me swoon. But the fact is, a BMW F800GT costs £2,100 less than an Indian Scout.

That comes with a bit of a caveat, though, which leads to the handful of things that sometimes make me question whether I'd really want the Bavarian sport tourer. The standard price of a BMW F800GT in the United Kingdom is £8,290. That's a decent value. But conveniently that price does not include a whole host of the bells and whistles that make the bike so appealing. Things like traction control, electronic suspension adjustment, heated grips, centre stand, and so on. To get all the proper features you'll need to pay £1,200 extra. Thereby pushing the price up to £9,500. If you want panniers, tack on £500 more. Suddenly, your "affordable" BMW costs £10,000.

Of course, that's still less than a stock Indian Scout, and who knows how much less it is if you consider that the Scout I'd want would have a passenger seat, passenger backrest and screen (I want the one that's in this picture). But still. When priced at £9,500 the BMW loses some of its lustre for me. I'm not sure it's sexy enough to cost that much.

And those kind of costs make me wonder what sort of costs I'd encounter in the future. I'm like John Sutherland, remember? I'm not going to take on valve clearances myself. How much will paying a mechanic for such a thing set me back? And speaking of servicing, BMW has had a number of recalls in the past few months, is it possible the reputation of quality and durability is a myth? I'd hate to find that out the hard way.

But most importantly, is the BMW image that I have in my head really one I want to portray? The bike has heritage, without doubt, but do I want to be a part of it? I suspect only time (and the availability of quality used F800GT models) will tell.

____________________

(a)OK, well, that's a stretch. The company traces its history back to 1934 but in truth the KTM name didn't exist until 1953, and KTM as we know it didn't come around until 1992.

(b)In doing some research on Sutherland I learned that, although a Minneapolis native, he had a number of deep ties to my beloved St. Paul, Minnesota. Additionally, he died in November 2012, which is exactly when I was reading Hunter S. Thompson's Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga, the book that obtusely made me realise I needed to get a motorcycle. If you are keen to read into coincidences, all this means that I have been infused with Sutherland's spirit and my desire to get a BMW is an obvious and natural expression of that.

My route

It is roughly 260 miles from the quaintly crumbling South Wales town of Penarth to the Yorkshire village of Grassington. That's assuming you do most of your travelling via motorway, which is what I tend to stick to when I need to get to places on time.

Of course, the "on time" concept is often a fuzzy one for me. I am a strong adherent to the Ride Your Own Ride school of thinking and one of the ways in which that manifests is in how long it takes to do certain things. Some days I move pretty fluidly -- stops for petrol or food are well-coordinated and efficient. On other days, I seem inclined to spend upward of 10 minutes adjusting my scarf before putting on my gloves. Such was the case this past Sunday when I set out for northern England.

Grassington is one of the "honey pot" villages of Yorkshire Dales National Park, which is to say it is one of the places that sees the most visitors. For those of you playing along in the United States and other countries where governments actually adhere to IUCN categorisation, a national park in Her Majesty's United Kingdom is not what you might expect. Here, national parks are, in fact Category V and Category VI protected areas. In truth, there are no real national parks (Category II) in Britain, we just like using that phrase because it sounds good.

The best U.S. comparison to a British "national park" that I can think of is the area that falls under the purview of the Tahoe Regional Planning Agency in California and Nevada. Except, much of that area is far more wild and I would argue that the TRPA does a better job at pro-actively protecting landscapes (a).

I realise all this is off the point -- this is a motorcycle blog, after all -- and that I have mentioned it before, and that on the Venn diagram showing motorcyclists and environmentalists the space where those two circles intersect is probably not very large, but that doesn't stop me from being annoyed by the whole thing. So, I rant about it at any opportunity. The United Kingdom needs to try harder to protect its natural spaces.

That's not to say British national parks aren't lovely, though. They are. If you want to be guaranteed of enjoying the very best that this tiny archipelago has to offer in terms of scenery, landscape, and hospitality, head to one of the 15 UK national parks. Before Sunday, I had visited Brecon Beacons, Cairngorms, Dartmoor, Exmoor, Lake District, New Forest, Northumberland, Peak District, Pembrokeshire Coast, Snowdonia and South Downs. With the Yorkshire Dales I've now visited an even dozen.

Timing is everything when it comes to visiting any outdoor space in Britain. The weather can make it the best or worst experience of your life. So, I accept that my personal list of favourites shows bias toward places I've visited on warm spring/summer days. But even so, I think the Yorkshire Dales is the bee's knees.

Getting there was easy enough. As I mentioned, I was in a somewhat relaxed mood when I set out. So, my intended departure time of 10 a.m. became 11. And by the time I was actually fuelled up and properly under way it was edging close to 11:30.

Security forces have erected barriers and a 9-foot fence to protect a castle...

Traffic was light, but for the first time in my eight years of living in this country everyone was sticking to the speed limit. I suspect this had something to do with the ever-growing police presence coming that had come in preparation for the NATO summit taking place a week later. More than 67 world leaders are attending the event, including President Barack Obama, so all the security bells and whistles were being brought in. A 9-foot-tall fence had been erected around Cardiff city centre, Cardiff Bay and Celtic Manor in Newport; seven NATO warships were stationed in Cardiff Bay; and more than 10,000 police officers from all parts of the UK were being brought in.

Ten thousand. Riding up the A449 and M50 I encountered several hundred of them en route to their posts: great convoys of police riot vans and Land Rovers, as well as the lightning-quick packs of motorcycle police, riding two abreast and looking like DayGlo versions of the Nazgûl.

I am in the process of training to run a marathon these days and had run 15 miles the day before, so by the time I was nearing the southern edges of Worcestershire my knees were aching, and the right arm thing that happens from time to time was worse than usual.

Sometimes when I ride it feels as if a nerve in my armpit is being pinched; it causes slight pain in my bicep and elbow, and results in my losing feeling in my fingers. I can never really figure out what causes this, though I have noticed it more since I started wearing a Knox Fastback gilet.

Based on that, one automatically assumes the Fastback is to blame, but it's not pinching me at all and is comfortable to wear. Also, I started wearing the Fastback right when I started taking longer journeys -- first throwing it on when I rode to the Peak District back in April. So, perhaps the issue is not with what I'm wearing on the bike but how long I'm on the bike. Additionally, the pain and numbness really only seems to show up when my Honda's engine is turning above 5,000 rpm; perhaps buzzing in the handlebars is the true culprit? If anyone has any input on what might be at the heart of my right arm thing I'd be glad to hear it.

Regardless, Strensham motorway services was my first port of call. The sun was shining and the weather warm. I chose to sit in the grass near where I had parked my bike and eat the sandwich Jenn had made for me. This somehow communicated to everyone who walked by that I wanted to answer any questions they might have about motorcycling, as well as hear stories about the bike they used to have.

More often than not I enjoy this aspect of motorcycling -- that everyone wants to talk to you -- and was happy to indulge it today. A mother took a picture of her son sitting on my bike. A man told me of the Fazer he had owned before "the wife" made him sell it (b). Another man asked if I thought the Honda CBF600 SA was the right size bike for him, as if he were shopping. But the best moment came as I was packing up to get back on the road.

"My dad's a biker," a balding man said, walking up to me. "Well. Was. He's 93 now, he is. But, you know, in his heart, yeah, he's a biker. Loves his bikes, him. Listen, mate, you wouldn't mind coming over to have a chat with him would you? Only take a moment and it'd mean the world."

He pointed to a car parked a few yards away in a handicapped spot. It was close enough to just wheel my bike over, but when I started to do that he stopped me and asked that I pull up at the passenger side of the car with my engine running.

"Really give 'er a good rev," he said. "Dad'll love that."

Not wanting to scare a senior citizen to death I waited until I was alongside the old man before even touching the throttle. The car's door was open and I pulled up to within arm's reach. The old man was weak and frail and pretty much asleep. Then he caught sight of me in his peripheral vision and rolled his head toward me.

"Go on, mate, give 'er a good rev," said the old man's son.

The old man lifted a bony hand and waved it as encouragement. Stock Honda pipes are not exactly renown for their sound but I gave it my best shot. I clicked the bike into neutral and held in the clutch just in case, then twisted the throttle back as hard as it would go. The inline four's engine jumped to 9,000 rpm and let out a roaring whine that probably frightened me more than anyone else.

A British dispatch rider in WWII.

The old man was grinning now. He motioned for me to kill the engine. He wanted to tell me about his motorcycling days. He had started riding bikes in World War II, as a dispatch rider in Italy. He had been seriously injured four times in crashes because they would have him ride at night without lights and inevitably the dispatch riders would end up crashing into shelling craters.

"'Course, you'd rather be thrown from a motorbike than shot," the old man explained. "So you kept going, didn't you?"

He talked for a good 45 minutes -- about riding in the war, some racing he had done, and listing off just about every machine he'd ever ridden or encountered. His body was beat up, and he did little more than move his head and weakly wave his right hand, but he wasn't a 93-year-old man. Not in his eyes, at least. When I glanced at the man's son, the one who had insisted I come over, I saw in his eyes, too, a much younger person. I saw a little kid looking up to his dad.

The old man spoke until he wore himself out, mumbling and beginning to retell the story of his breaking his leg because he was thinking too much about a girl and not the moonlit Italian road he had been speeding down. His son smiled warmly and cut him off. He thanked me for taking the time and told me to ride safe.

I pulled on my helmet and fired the Honda to life. The old man came back around and said something unintelligible, but reading his face I guessed it to be a joke. I laughed as loud as I could, to be heard through the helmet, then waved goodbye.

A few seconds later I was out of the car park and on the M5, settling into an 80-mph cruising speed. I thought of Italian girls and felt thankful that British potholes aren't quite as bad as they could be.

To be continued...

____________________

(a)British conservationism is too often nothing more than a happy side effect of protracted bureaucratic ineptitude. It's similar to the way a massive insurance snafu that keeps you from driving for six weeks would help to "preserve" the engine life of your car.

(b) Usually when I hear these stories I suspect the truth is that "the wife" is, in fact, "a temporary fit of intelligent self awareness." I imagine the individual realised that his combined lack of skill, immaturity, and unwillingness to subject to the "embarrassment" of learning was eventually going to get him killed, but to admit any of this would be emasculating so he blames his partner.

A stone wall near Grassington

This is Part 2 of my Yorkshire Dales trip. To read Part 1 click here.

One of the strange aspects of British life is that all 64 million of us are crammed into a space no larger than the state of Oregon, but getting around in that space takes an excruciatingly long time. And it feels even longer. As I've said before, the best way to think about it is to add a 0 to whatever distance you intend to travel. So, this 260-mile ride to Yorkshire Dales National Parkfelt like one that was 2,600 miles long.

By the time I had escaped the northern reaches of Birmingham I was stupid with boredom. Traffic had been slowed to 50 mph thanks to congestion and roadworks. The flow of traffic was steady, so putt-putting along at about 4,000 rpm was doing wonders for my fuel consumption, but it was heavy enough I could not take my eyes off the road. I wasn't able to look at the surrounding countryside, just the Land Rover ahead of me, the impatient Audi behind me, and the various cars we passed as we put faith in the "10% + 6" equation (a).

My knees were aching again and I was having that particularly male issue in which "the boys" refuse to settle. If you are female and don't know what I'm talking about, don't read that sexually. It simply means I was uncomfortable. Doing a full stand-grab-and-adjust manoeuvre is difficult and dangerous when travelling at speed and wearing full gear, so I was left to constantly shift around on my seat.

To keep my mind occupied I had "conversations" with drivers and passengers in the cars around me. They couldn't hear me, obviously, because I was talking in a normal voice with a helmet on and their windows were up.

Also, I spent quite a lot of time wondering whether this trip would be more enjoyable if I were on a BMW F800GT. Or perhaps an R1200RT. A number of the cops I had passed earlier in my journey had been on R1200s and had looked pretty cool. Sure, those things are stupid wide but they have a real presence on the road. And I bet they're a hell of a lot of fun. I bet, too, they'd be more comfortable for Jenn than my existing bike.

This led to the inevitable lament of my not being able to even imagine a time when I could afford such a bike. Jenn and I are severely strapped for cash these days and I've had to dip into some of the savings that I was slowly, slowly accumulating toward a new bike. I try to take solace in the fact that my Honda is still relatively low mileage and is, after all, a Honda. Which means I can continue to ride the thing until Jesus comes back. But that doesn't satiate the emotional need for a new bike. I want a garage full of bikes and I want it now.

Back in the real universe, I pushed on into Lancashire before stopping. Increasingly, I find the north is my favourite part of England. The accents strike me as more engaging than in many other parts of England and Wales –– you enjoy just listening to people speak –– and there are often semi-poetic turns of phrase, such as, "T'wer like suppin' lead," to describe something as difficult.

If you like narrow streets you'll love the Yorkshire Dales.

At Charnock Richard motorway services I supped hot chocolate and put away a piece of lemon cake Jenn had sent along with me. In the last few miles before stopping I had been able to pick up speed and again my right arm had been hurting. I thought of Curt Carter's recent post, posing the question no motorcyclist really wants to consider –– How long will I be able to ride? –– and that again kicked up thoughts about all the different bikes I wish I owned.

I often feel a sense of urgency toward motorcycling: I need to go everywhere now; I need to ride all the bikes now. This comes as a result of my having gotten into things so late. Though I've had my motorcycle endorsement since I was 18, I didn't really start riding until I was 36. Optimistically, that gives me a roughly 40-year riding career, maybe 50 if I stay lithe, keep my brain active and can one day manage to convince myself that a Can-Am Spyder is cool. I guess that's a decent amount of time, but it doesn't feel enough. I lament the 20 years in which I could have been riding but did not.

Back on the road, I was soon zipping along the delightfully open space of the M65. Near Burnley, a Volkswagen Polo came up hard behind me in the fast lane, flashing its lights as it approached. I shifted left (into the slow lane here in the UK) and nodded at the car to go on by. As I did this, though, I twisted the throttle and kept pace. I looked over at the driver and nodded again, as if to say, "No, really, go ahead," and again accelerated to keep pace. I did this a few more times, making grand "Go ahead, after you," gestures but always remaining side by side with the Volkswagen. When we reached 110 mph the car's driver finally got the joke and waved a playful middle finger at me. I waved back and eased up, letting him speed on (b).

Within a few minutes I was off the motorway and into the land of the white rose. God's own Yorkshire. The kingdom of Jorvik. The part of England that is, in a way, the most English and yet unlike any other part of England.

The roads of the Yorkshire Dales made for great riding: lots of curves, relatively well-maintained roads, and good sight lines. I swooped and soared my way to Grassington, where I would be staying the next few nights, all too quickly. When I pulled into the driveway of my B&B, the owner was already out the door and saying hello before I could cut the engine.

"Y'alright Chris?" she said. "Good ride up, was it? Shall I get you a cuppa tea?"

Yorkshire hospitality. I thanked her profusely and started unloading my gear. When I got up to my room, there was a fresh pot of tea and a slice of lemon cake waiting for me. I lingered on these things as long I could. The last part of the ride had offered up some beautiful scenery but I was exhausted.

Honest food: pork belly on black pudding with gravy.

A while later, cleaned up and in comfortable clothes, I walked to the village square to find a pub where I could have dinner. The B&B's landlady had described The Forester's Arms as "a bit worn around the edges but with honest food –– you know, proper portions for a lad."

It was in better condition than many high-end pubs in Wales, but she had been right about the food. I filled up on pork belly and black pudding, the latter of which gets a lot more love in the north than down where I live.

For those of you playing along in the United States, black pudding is a sausage of sorts. There's no meat; it's effectively just oatmeal soaked in pig's blood and stuffed into sausage casing. There's absolutely no way to make it sound tasty, but it's actually pretty good when used in combination with other proteins such as eggs or pork. Washing it all down with a cold beer I started to feel like a proper Yorkshireman (c).

I decided to head out for a walk across the fields south of the village, my belly full and my head spinning from tiredness, happiness, and a few pints of beer. Quietly to myself I had started talking in a Yorkshire accent and commenting on just how beautiful everything was.

Occasionally, I would drift out of the Yorkshire patois and hear my father's voice rising up in me. He loves Britain; I sometimes wonder if I stay here just so he'll have the chance to visit. The late-day sun had turned everything golden and I knew my dad would be going crazy for it.

"This is just so great!" I said aloud, channeling his kid-like enthusiasm. "I mean, gosh! Wow!"

I came to a river and walked along its banks a while, eventually passing an old man out walking his dog.

"Ay up," he said.

I grinned. It was the first "ay up" I had gotten in Yorkshire –– a phrase that's a bit like "howdy" in Texas: a part of speech so iconic it's almost caricature.

You can see why I love it.

"Ay up," I said back.

And we each walked on in the Yorkshire sunset.

To be continued...

____________________

(a)If you are caught speeding at 10 percent of the limit plus 6 mph you can avoid getting points on your license and instead take a traffic safety course. This means that in a 50-mph zone you can try your luck and go 61 mph. In some constabularies, the rule is "10% + 9", but reliable information on exactly which constabularies adhere to this rule is hard to find, so it is best to stick to the lower number. Of course, the even better bet is to simply not speed and save yourself the trouble, which is, of course, what I always do because I'm a good boy.

(b) If you are a member of law enforcement in the UK, please note that this story is totally made up. I always ride according to conditions and never above the national speed limit.

(c) Actually, I suppose a proper Yorkshireman would have been drinking ale, not that Nancy-boy lager stuff they drink in London.

How many have you heard of?

Abingdon
Advance
AJS
Ariel
Arno
BAT
Beardmore
Beeston
Brough Superior
BSA
Centaur
Chater-Lea
Clyno
Cotton
Coventry Eagle
CTS
Douglas
Excelsior
Garrard
Greeves
Grigg
Grindlay Peerless
Humber
Hyde
Invicta
James
Lea Francis
Levis
Marsh
Martinsyde
Matchless
Minerva
Montgomery
N.U.T.
New Comet
New Imperial
NLG
Norman
Norton
NVT
OEC
OK Bradshaw
OK Supreme
Panther
Quadrant
Rex
Reynolds
Rover
Royal Enfield
Rudge Whitworth
Scott
Singer
Sunbeam
Triumph
Velocette
Vincent
Wilkinson Sword
Wooler
Zenith

This is Part III of my Yorkshire Dales trip.

–– Click here to read Part I

–– Click here to read Part II

I was up early on the trip's final day. Showered and with all my gear packed before breakfast, I was keen to be on the road by 9 a.m. Because I ended up fussing over my tank bag, however, actual departure time was on the lateish side of 9:30.

I have an Oxford X30 magnetic tank bag, which is a damned useful bit of kit but for the fact that it causes paint damage. I'll write a full review at some point in the future but I can tell you simply the bag is so useful that even when it starts making tiny little scratches on your tank you'll find it difficult to replace. All those pockets come in handy.

On the way up to Yorkshire I had strapped it instead to the rear rack. That removed some of the bag's functionality (e.g., I couldn't just pull to the side of the road and dig out a map or bottle of water without getting off the bike) but I thought it worth it for the sake of my paint job. At the end of that day's ride, however, I noticed the bag had shifted to the left quite a bit, despite being held down by a number of bungee cords.

Because I was using the Oxford X30 to carry my laptop, I found myself fretting too much when packing up for the ride back. Better to suffer scratched paint than the loss of a MacBook, I decided. Though it took me half an hour to make that decision.

Yorkshire Dales

Finally on the road, I learned Yorkshire Dales National Park on a weekday is absolutely one of the best places in Britain to ride. The roads were perfect and so quiet I was able to loop back and re-run certain sections, pushing my skills while staying within my comfort zone.

For instance, I found a great section of switchback curves that I initially hit at about 45 mph. Traffic was non-existent, so I was able to go back and do the section again and again, slowly working up to taking it at 60 mph.

After a while I made my way out of the country roads to the bustle of Leeds, stopping to check out one of the physical shops for GetGeared, sort of a UK version of Revzilla. In my head, this shop was going to be ginormous and burgeoning with the toys and accoutrements of motorcycling –– a place where I could see and touch all the things that are sold on the GetGeared site. But, of course, it wasn't.

That's sort of the way with motorcycling, isn't it? Or, at least, that's sort of the way with motorcycling in the UK. You have to downscale your expectations. Things are never as big or as flashy as you want to be.

You go to a Sideburn event hoping for Wheels & Waves, but instead find it's just four dudes drinking cider next to a rat rod Harley. You go to a bike show picturing food vendors and rock bands and custom bikes and revelry, but instead it's just a dozen rollie-smoking middle-aged blokes in worn-out leather onesies eating bacon sandwiches and prodding Ninjas with all the enthusiasm and cheer of a wet cat. You go to the brick-and-mortar location of a large internet retailer imagining an endless wonderland of goods, but instead it's just a dusty shop in an industrial estate.

I looked at a few bags, bought a new pair of riding sunglasses for £14, and got back on the road.

The northern trunk of England is split by the Pennines, a mountain range of sorts oft referred to as the "backbone of England." The main transportation arteries in that part of the country run on either side. Dropping to Leeds and thereby following the eastern route home had tacked on an additional 20 miles to my journey home but I didn't have anywhere particular to be and it's always nice to see someplace new.

National Motorcycle Museum

Plus, this route took me past the National Motorcycle Museum–– a place I've been wanting to visit for a while. I've mentioned before that Britain has an incredibly rich motorcycle past, and that I find it sad so little of that spirit is felt in the modern era. The British archipelago was once home to hundreds of motorcycle manufacturers, and their products were an integral part of life here. From the Isle of Man TT to the ton-up boys, the motorcycle was for many decades intrinsic to the British character.

Take a look at the names listed on the right side of this post. They are the bike manufacturers you will find represented at the National Motorcycle Museum –– still only some of the names from the United Kingdom's amazing and largely forgotten motorcycling past.

I was excited to go to the museum to see these machines and learn their history, to learn more about the culture in which they existed (What factors led to the UK having so many motorcycle manufacturers? Why wasn't there a similar culture in the United States?), and the people of that culture. I wanted to learn about the ton-up boys, the rockers, the mods, the road racers, the war dispatch riders, the butlers on Royal Enfields, the fiery socialists who would speed from rally to rally, the wild poets who would fly down country lanes. These are all tales that I have heard pieces of, tales that have been features of greater tales, but not tales in and of themselves.

1934 New Imperial

I imagined spending all day at the motorcycle museum, getting lost in the story of each bike. But remember a few paragraphs ago when I was talking about downscaling expectations?

Yeah. That.

The National Motorcycle Museum is squeezed into a building that appears to be an abandoned Holiday Inn. Taking up three large conference rooms of this "hotel" is a great mass of bikes that are placed within inches of each other, the overall effect being that everything just sort of blurs together. The bikes feel more as if in storage rather than on display, with single sheets of paper identifying them. In most cases, these sheets of paper offer only the make, model, year and engine size of the bike –– no information about the bike's significance or history is given.

Basically, the National Motorcycle Museum is just a collection of things. There is almost no interpretation. A good example of this was the CTS motorcycle Robin Jac had ridden in the Isle of Man. I only knew it was his bike because on the seat had been placed a copy of Y Fellten Goch, the Welsh-language book about him.

1938 OEC

Robin Jac was an absolute nutcase who used to spray paint his racing leathers red and smoke cigarettes whilst racing. But what visitor to the National Motorcycle Museum –– located in Birmingham, in the heart of England –– would know that? I'll bet the number of Welsh speakers who visit each year could be counted on one hand.

You could create an entire interpretive display around Robin Jac's motorcycle and the character who rode it. Pictures, perhaps video, and some text telling of his wilder adventures (such as the fact that he used to practice for the Isle of Man TT by screaming down public mountain roads in Snowdonia National Park). And that's just one bike among hundreds.

Within the National Motorcycle Museum there exists incredible potential for rich and fascinating storytelling. Thousands of tales are right there to inspire and excite the imagination. But as is, the museum is just a big warehouse full of oily old pieces of metal. Three rooms full of forgotten names. It is a great disappointment and not really worth the £9 admission price.

1932 Panther

On the floor above the museum I found a balcony where I sat and ate some food I had packed in the morning. Looking out across the car park, I saw two motorbikes trundling up, both dirty from the road and absolutely weighed down with gear. One was considerably older and rougher than the other, though: placing its rider in a cafe racer position, spitting smoke and growling its way through the car park.

I watched as the riders parked, dismounted and walked toward the museum to experience its disappointment for themselves. I tried to get my things together quickly enough to meet them downstairs and ask about their bikes but was too slow. Truthfully, though, one part of me was happy with this, though, because it meant I could scrutinise their bikes more closely, without worrying that I was making the owners uncomfortable by standing too close or paying too much attention to this or that aspect.

Arriving at the bikes, I could tell said owners would not have given a damn about my having a look. Both machines wore the black-and-silver number plates of a classic motorcycle. One was a late 80s Honda Revere, though: a 650-cc shaft driven lump of ugly that I personally feel fudges the definition of "classic." No doubt, the damned thing will continue to run for the next century, until it really is a classic.

Moving history

Next to it was a ridden-hard Triton. I mean, it had really been ridden hard. The air-cooled engine still tink-tinking with heat, it had already marked its territory with a few drops of oil. The rider had wrapped the grips in gaffer tape, with a dowel rod being taped to the throttle to serve as a homemade cramp buster. The tank was dented, the pipes were rusted, and it was clear the only time the thing saw cleaning was when it rained. But this bike told more of a story than any of those I had seen in the museum.

Walking back to my own bike I saw it now in a slightly different light. It's a workhorse is my Honda CBF600 SA. She's not sexy, she's not terribly fast, but she goes and goes and goes, and she takes me where I want to be. Maybe that's what I want right now. Or, at least, what I should be thankful for right now.

Sure, a BMW F800GT might do it better, an Indian Scout would definitely do it with more style, but the Honda is what I have. And the point of a bike is not for it to be just something to look at, to be something to put in a museum and have serve as a lifeless example of what a motorcycle looks like. The point is that it takes you places; it's the research tool for all the stories you'll tell.

The story I wanted to tell now, though, was one of being home, back in Penarth with Jenn. I covered the last 120 miles of my ride as quickly as I could, finding light traffic on the M50 and only stopping once to pee.

With the NATO summit now just days away, the area between Newport and Cardiff was crawling with security. Police officers were stationed on every single bridge that crossed the M4. But this somehow resulted in a more steady flow. It turns out all those traffic planners are right: if people would just stick to a consistent speed we really would get places faster.

A short while later, the sun was starting to set as I washed the bugs off my bike. I oiled the chain and went through my usual post-ride ritual of checking fluids and spraying bits with WD-40 to help keep away rust. The engine still had a tiny bit of warmth as I pulled on the bike's heavy cover.

"You're alright, girl," I said aloud to the bike. "Thanks for taking me on adventures."

The lads of El Soliario

Here are a some miscellaneous things that have been on my mind lately:

Farewell Bob Skoot

It would appear that Bob Skoot, author of Riding the Wet Coast and avowed Crocs lover has died. Within the tiny sub-culture within a sub-culture that is blogging about motorcycles Bob was well known as the guy who would actually read posts and leave thoughtful comments. I didn't interact with him as much as I now wish I had, but he was a definitely a good man.

Victory's hard sell

Victory is offering some pretty hefty rebates on all of its models at the moment -- up to $2,000. This rebate applies to a huge swathe of models, going back to those from the 2012 model year. Any time a manufacturer has to slash prices it suggests all is not well, but what's particularly telling to me is that there are apparently so many unsold models from years past. Perhaps that's behind Victory scrapping so many models for its 2015 model year line up: it simply wasn't selling the models it was making. And that certainly makes one concerned for the company's future. However, if you're looking for a silver lining, maybe Victory is doing its best to sell old stock because it knows that something considerably better is just around the corner. Perhaps a higher-performance engine that would make older models considerably less desirable? And anti-lock brakes on all the models?

Someone at Yamaha is listening

I suggested in my review of the Yamaha MT-09 (aka the Yamaha FZ-09) that its engine would be better suited to a different format. Unlike the delightful MT-07, the larger MT-09 doesn't have the character and spirit to make you overlook the shortcomings of a naked hooligan-targeted bike (e.g. no viable passenger accommodation, no wind protection). Instead, the MT-09's triple strikes me as better suited to bike suited to motorway (freeway) commuting and light touring. It seems Yamaha has gotten the message. Not too long ago it registered a trademark for an adventure-style sport tourer -- something similar to a Suzuki V-Strom or Honda Crossrunner. Then, this week CARB documents revealed that Yamaha is working on yet another platform for the MT-09's triple. Motorcycle.com notes that both new bikes will be given an FJ designation (FJ09FCGY and FJ09FCR). I am really bad at divining stuff from motorcycle names but my hope is that all this means Yamaha will be developing a lighter (and cheaper) version of its venerable FJR1300. Something on par with the Honda VFR800F or BMW F800GT.

Keanu's bike costs three times as much as a house in Detroit

Many moons ago, I sang the praises of the Keanu-Reeves-backed Arch KRGT-1. My primary point in liking the bike was the fact that it was American and it was new. At the time, the Polaris Indians had yet to be revealed, so I was simply happy to see someone attempting to move the American motorcycle discussion forward. But then Chief and Chieftain showed up. Then Harley-Davidson introduced Project Rushmore, made improvements to all its models, introduced the Street line, and went all-in on developing the Livewire. Then Indian released the Scout. Now Arch has finally announced it is ready to sell the KRGT-1 and it is a chain-driven, no-ABS, disappointment that looks like something Roland Sands would do on a budget. And Arch is asking $78,000 for it.

El Soliario has a big set

CycleWorld has called El Solitario's Impostor custom BMW RnineT"the world's most hated motorcycle." El Solitario is a builder based out of Spain that's on the forefront of the custom scene that I love so much -- the Wheels & Waves scene of grizzled Gringo-helmet-wearing Europeans speaking in viscidly poetic terms about motorcycles and souls. Well, them and Roland Sands. Anyhoo, a while ago, as part of its launch for the bike, BMW gave a number of these custom builders an RnineT with which to do as they please. Germany's Urban Motor turned it into a muscled flat tracker, Roland Sands decided to use the bike as an exercise in subtle beautification, Over in Japan, builders transformed the RnineT into sleek cafe, racing and new wave machines. But El Solitario, what did they do? They took a brand new high-performance machine and made it look like a Mad Max prop that had been kicked off a cliff and abandoned for several years. They went rock n' roll; they went punk. Whereas all the other builds effectively help BMW sell its bikes, the El Solitario Impostor is a big middle finger to that idea. Which inherently makes it a thing of particular beauty.

Bring this bike to the UK, Victory!

For those of us riding in the northern hemisphere, cooler weather is beginning to creep in. Especially in the mornings, some folks are already clicking on their heated gear. Within the next month or two, leaves on trees will change, providing visually stunning riding for those lucky enough to live near a deciduous forest.

Autumn is a great time to ride, but it brings with it a kind of melancholy because it means the return of what the ancient Celts used to call The Long Dark: winter. Here in the UK, most of us can ride through those months but it is often an unpleasant experience. In other parts of the northern hemisphere, snow will fall, ice will form, and only those with the greatest of derring-do will venture out on two wheels.

Thankfully, this time of year brings us a few things to keep our spirits up: trade and consumer motorcycle shows, where the newest and coolest bikes are most often revealed.

One such show is Motorcycle Live, which takes place in Birmingham in November. I'm considering going because the event includes the opportunity to test ride a number of bikes whilst also trying out top-level gear. Tickets to the show cost £17 (US $28) and getting there will inevitably mean doing the 125-mile ride to Birmingham in the rain. So, whether I am motivated to go will depend to a certain extent on what happens at a different show: INTERMOT.

One of the world's largest trade fairs for motorcycles, INTERMOT will take place in Cologne, Germany, during the first week of October. The event draws roughly 250,000 visitors and is generally the point when we see a whole host of new models revealed. In the build up to the event there have been all kinds of leaks and rumours, to the extent that I'm half inclined to ride all the way to Germany just to be a part of it.

Maybe next year. Such a trip would require far more planning and money than I have right now, so I'll just have to live it vicariously. In the meantime, here are a few things I'm hoping to see come from INTERMOT:

An ABS-equipped Victory Gunner

I'm probably the only who cares, but Victory are announcing their European 2015 model year line up at INTERMOT. I'd expect it to be pretty similar to the disappointing line up already announced in the United States. But it's worth noting that the 2014 European line up was not exactly the same. The Gunner still hasn't shown up on our shores, whereas we have three different versions of the Hammer (as opposed to one in the United States). Additionally, many manufacturers offer slightly different specs on European models than those sold in the United States. For example, ABS is already standard on all Harley-Davidson machines sold; it will be standard on the Indian Scout when it arrives in March. So, I'd love to see the Gunner finally brought over here -- equipped with the ABS that will be required in the European Union from 2016.

Some sort of magical other thing from Victory

It was about this time last year -- at EICMA, another major European show -- that Harley-Davidson first announced the Street series. That bike, of course, is targeted primarily at audiences outside the United States. If Victory were going to do something incredibly bold and offer a smaller-displacement, liquid-cooled bike, here in Europe might be the place to do it. However, I'd say the odds of such a thing happening are very minimal.

Image of a planned adventure-tourer using the MT-09 engine.

A middleweight Yamaha FJR

I mentioned this in my previous post, but Yamaha is working on two new platforms for the engine currently being housed in the MT-09: an adventure-tourer and something else. I blow hot and cold on such things, admittedly, but lately I've been all hot again on the idea of owning a middleweight sport tourer like the BMW F800GT. But that thing costs too much. So, what I'm hoping to see from Yamaha is a lighter, more affordable version of the FJR1300. Motorcycle cops in the UK are big fans of that bike and I trust their opinion. Although the MT-09 is a disappointment, I am certain Yamaha can still get it right with that three-cylinder engine. INTERMOT may be a little too soon for us to see such a thing, though. So far, I've only heard talk. One would expect spy shots to have been leaked if an actual bike were imminent.

A BMW adventure sport tourer

What are we calling these things? The bikes that, like the Ducati Multistrada, look a bit like offroad machines but are definitely not supposed to be used offroad? I'm not sure of the name being used for them. Nonetheless, there are spy shots of this one and I suspect a German event would be the ideal place for BMW to finally reveal it. I suspect, too, that it will turn out to be a hell of a machine. I'm not terribly hot on the look of adventure and adventure-tourer bikes, but when they are put together well I can't help but respect them. It's a good bet the Beemer will respectable. It will probably also be ungodly expensive and something I'll only be able to admire from afar.

A fleeting glimpse of the new Kawasaki Versys

A revamped Kawasaki Versys

Also spied recently, this time in Romania on what appears to be the site for a promotional video, is an updated version of the venerable Kawasaki Versys. The Versys and Versys 1000 have been around for a while now. Both are top-notch machines by all accounts -- the Versys 1000 especially. It has a whopping good amount of power, a load of bells and whistles, thought-out passenger accommodation, and a pretty agreeable price. But great googly-moogly is it ugly. I mean, even by adventure-tourer standards it's ugly. It looks like it was built by robots. And not even smart robots. The new version appears to have a little more fairing and has done away with the weird death ray headlight. It still looks goofy, but nearly as goofy as it used to.

Something from Suzuki that doesn't suck

I don't really know how things are going in the United States but here in Europe Suzuki is really hurting. In the UK, the company has earned a reputation as the brand of choice for chavs and gypsies, and despite offering massive rebates on its models it is not in the top 10 of motorcycle sales. Reportedly, Suzuki is keen to reverse its dire situation and plans to release at least a dozen new models over the next two years. Perhaps one or two of those will be revealed at INTERMOT. One hopes it will actually be a new model, rather than another reworked Bandit.

Anti-lock brakes on Triumph's Bonneville range

I've fallen out of love with the Triumph Bonneville, especially since learning that its front tire is bias and the rear radial (why?!). But you'll remember that my first real issue with the otherwise beautiful machine is its lack of anti-lock brakes. I'm a stickler on that feature and it annoys me that Triumph has left it off its Bonneville range, i.e. Bonneville, Thruxton, Scrambler, America and Speedmaster. Whereas it is available on all other Triumph models. Although I've cooled on the Bonneville I am still very much in love with the Speedmaster (which receives normal radial tires on both front and rear). With only a year left before the European Union requires it, and several years having passed since the Bonneville range received any real updates, I'm hoping Triumph will be announcing it has extended ABS to all its models.

Honda CBF600SA

It occurred to me today that with all the bike reviews I've written (something I really like doing because it inherently means riding different motorbikes) I've never taken the time to review the one I know best –– my own.

The CBF600SA is no longer part of Honda's lineup, having been available from 2004-2013, but they are damned durable machines and as such will be floating around in the used market for quite some time. Midway through its run –– in 2007 –– the model received a handful of relatively unnoticeable updates with the major difference being the engine. Mine is a 2005 model, running on a detuned engine from the venerable CB600F Hornet. From 2007, the CBF600 carried a detuned CBR600RR engine.

In both cases, the Honda CBF600SA is an interminable workhorse, producing 76 hp and about 43 ft.-lb. of torque. Those are decent enough numbers. As I've said many times before: in reality, that level of power is all you need.

However, maximum horsepower is achieved at 10,500 rpm, which means you will almost certainly never actually experience all 76 of the Honda's horses. Things get way too vibey and wheezy before that. Maximum torque is reportedly found at 8,000 rpm, which is right about where things get ridiculous. You'll find life easier when pushing the engine less.

I'm not one to care much about numbers, though. I'm the sort of guy who often focuses on intangibles. And the narrative of what the CBF600SA is can be encapsulated, I think, in two personal experiences:

1) My brother owns, but very rarely rides, a Honda CBR1000RR –– arguably one of the greatest sportbikes ever made. However, the reason he rarely takes the bike out, he told me, is that he has yet to figure out how to ride it without suffering so many accidental wheelies.

"What do you do to keep that front wheel from coming up so much?" he asked.

"That has never ever happened to me," I said. "I'm not entirely sure I could wheelie if I wanted to."

2) I rode to Scotland and back not too long ago, putting more than 1,000 miles on the odometer. More recently, I clocked up roughly 600 miles on a jaunt to Yorkshire. I've also done long runs to West Sussex, North Wales, the Midlands, the West Country, West Wales and dozens of other places you've likely never heard of if you're reading this in the United States. In all that riding, in all those thousands of miles, I have not had a problem with the bike.

Maintenance is relatively easy.

So, the story of the CBF600SA is of a machine that is lacking in character but that will take you wherever you want to go, as far as you want to go, whenever you want to go, and never let you down.

That's more or less what Honda intended. Never released in the cruiser-focused U.S. market, the model was dually aimed at newish riders and no-frills-needing commuters. It doesn't do wheelies but its 19-litre tank (5 US gallons) will carry you some 220 miles before the fuel light comes on. It is a legitimate "big bike," with all the weight and mass that entails, whilst remaining smooth and forgiving of mistakes. Almost to a fault.

Of course, the CBF600SA was/has been my first big bike and I chose it in part because I had learned to ride on a naked version of it: the uninspiringly named CBF600N. So, it was an issue of choosing the devil I knew. I knew how it responded to certain situations; I knew I could spend a decent amount of time in its saddle.

Theoretically, that saddle is adjustable to three different heights, but long-legged dudes like me (I'm 6 foot 1) will find the highest setting hard to achieve. The seat's not-at-all-easy-to-access bolts aren't long enough; you'll need to find different bolts to make it work. And once you do, you'll find the aesthetics of the bike negatively affected, with the ugly bottom seams of the tank suddenly visible. Because I care about how things look and I'm too lazy to go hunting for different bolts, I live with the standard middle setting.

Also adjustable is the bike's windscreen. Again, there are three different positions, but in this case making changes is far easier. After experimenting with different heights I settled on the highest position, which puts wind at about face-shield level for me.

Honda used to label the CBF600SA as a sport tourer, which is a stretch in one sense of the category if not both. But I suppose if they'd labeled it truthfully as a two-wheeled mule it might not have sold well.

On the sport end of things, the bike doesn't churn out nearly the horsepower of the bikes from which it gets its proverbial Adam's rib. Also no longer on the lineup, the CB600F Hornet in its heyday gave 100 bhp; the CBR600RR pushes closer to 120 bhp. So, the CBF600SA is a distance from where it could be and, as I said, wringing all 76 horses from it is a hell of a challenge.

Loaded with gear in Scotland.

Meanwhile, although it handles like a dream when compared to something like a Victory Jackpot, the Honda is not as flickable as many other bikes I've ridden and strikes me as unnecessarily top heavy. It is not awful, but simply not as good as it could probably be.

However, lamenting its lethargy on twisty roads is probably missing the point. This bike was always targeted newbies and commuters. And back when I first got it –– when I was a newbie, often overcome with nerves at the mere fact of being on a bike –– it had all the power I could possibly want. I mean, hell, the thing can go 140 mph! (a)

In situations more familiar to newbies and commuters –– obeying the speed limit, straight lines, slow-speed manoeuvres, filtering, etc. –– the CBF600SA performs admirably. And to that end, it better supports the "tourer" side of Honda's definition. The liquid-cooled inline-four engine can happily drone on and on and on, easily cruising at or above motorway speeds without complaints or surprises. On long hauls I tend to peg it at 75-80 mph, which puts the rev counter at or below 6,000 (depending on wind resistance), and a safe distance from the high-rev vibration I mentioned. Passing at motorway speed comes easily, with a generous twist of throttle springing you past that texting driver or out of the way of that lane-changing National Express bus.

Perhaps in part because it weighs 225 kg (500 lbs.), the CBF600SA is rock solid at those speeds. The half fairing helps, too, of course, keeping wind off your upper body. If you lean forward and lay your chest on the tank, peering through the windscreen, you find a decent-sized pocket of undisturbed air to hide in when riding home from Bristol in 1º C (33º F) weather. Though you will look a bit silly when doing so, because the natural seating position of the CBF600SA is upright –– again, more "tourer" than "sport."

Add heated grips and the Honda's touring credentials are bolstered a little further. Additionally, it takes soft luggage well, has a number of places to hook bungee cords, and possesses a passenger seat that is sized for an actual human being.

"I have plenty of room there," my wife told me. "A few inches between your bum and my... you know... and then a few more inches behind. So, I can move around a little."

There is equally a good amount of space on the seat for a rider to move around. Which is fortunate because the seat is not the most comfortable for long hauls. My wife can last roughly 50 miles before she starts to get antsy and needs a break; I can manage about double that. I sometimes think, because of its size, durability and fuel efficiency, the CBF600SA might be a good machine on which to attempt a Saddle Sore 1000 ride. However, I will definitely need to find a seating solution first.

It's not sexy, but it helps me feel free.

On the go, moving through the bike's six gears is simple enough. First is a little short for my liking and pushing it too hard can result in second being hard to find. This is really only an issue, though, when you have gotten into a pissing match with a guy in a Ford KA and are launching from a stop light to prove to him how much more manly you are. Yes, you'll beat him across the intersection but thereafter watch him wheeze past as you are forced to bring the revs down to wiggle out of neutral.

Shifting can also be less than silky when the bike is very hot.

The brakes, though, are always good. Two discs up front mean stops can be delivered easily with just two fingers on the lever. And the otherwise-unobtrusive ABS has been damned useful in the handful of times it has deployed. So useful, in fact, that I will not consider buying any motorcycle without it.

Motorcycle suspension is still something of a dark art to me, so I can't really say much beyond the fact that the CBF600SA has an adjustable rear suspension that I've never felt the need to adjust. It's handled all the situations I've put it in, and deals with the third-world state of British roads decently well.

"Decent" is a word that could be used over and over when describing the CBF600SA. "Well-mannered" is another superlative that comes to mind. Especially when talking about the bike's sound. Push the engine way, way too hard and you can get it to sound a bit like a tortured robotic cat, but during normal operating conditions the exhaust note is far more like a low-powered vacuum cleaner being used in an adjacent room. At motorway speeds I cannot hear it at all.

The immature side of me laments this, but I have to admit there are some solid benefits. Firstly, I don't need my own engine noise to remind me that I'm moving. And with the CBF600SA running so quietly I can hear instead the engines and sometimes even tires of other road users, giving me a greater sense of awareness. Loud pipes do not save lives; knowing what the hell is going on around you does. Secondly, the Honda's quiet engine means I have never had a single complaint from the senior citizen couple whose bedroom window is right next to the shed where I park my bike.

Overall, the Honda CBF600SA is sort of the motorcycling equivalent of Europe. No, not the continent but the 80s hair rock band. Do you know anyone who owns a Europe CD? Yeah, me neither. Yet all of us can rock out to "Final Countdown" if needs must. Are Europe's riffs as good as AC/DC's? Nope. Do they have the depth of Metallica? No, sir. But they do the job. You can still air guitar, and you won't run the risk of upsetting your mom.

My first bike and me

I find it slightly difficult to understand why anyone ever bought a new one, but when purchased second-hand these machines are incredibly good value for money. Service intervals are every 4,000 miles and much of the work can be done yourself with a little bit of patience and a Haynes manual –– even if you are something of a mechanical moron like me.

In the end, the Honda CBF600SA is a pretty good motorcycle. It's a dependable all-rounder that may start to bore you after a year or so, but will simultaneously raise your standards as you look for your next machine. Good for commuting, well suited to new or returning riders, and passable as a light-duty practical tourer. It's pretty good. And depending on your experience/demands/finances, it might be good enough for you. Just don't expect it to necessarily set your heart on fire.

Though, having now written this review I feel inclined to take it out for a ride.

––––––––––––––––––––

(a)So they say. I can't verify that personally, as I don't have the cajones to go that fast.

"Man, if I had the money, I think I'd get one of those Honda F6Bs," I'll sometimes tell myself.

Effectively Honda's Goldwing grand tourer sans top box, the F6B is, after all, a good-looking machine. And from everything I've read it's a hell of a lot of fun to ride, with handling that belies its massive weight and size. Ever since the bike was released a few years ago I've been daydreaming about owning one and riding it all over North America.

"But, actually," I'll say, continuing the thought. "If I had the money I can't imagine that I ever actually would spend it on an F6B. Because plastic."

Having seen one of these beasts in person I couldn't help but notice that it possesses quite a lot of plastic -- something that puts me off for a couple of reasons. Firstly, because it feels wrong to pay £20,000 (a) for a motorcycle with that much plastic. But more importantly because of what plastic does when stressed: it cracks.

Drop the F6B or accidentally whack it with a hard object and you'll be left with cracked bits of fairing that will fall off and cost you hundreds upon hundreds of whatever currency you use to get it fixed. Whereas if said damage were to occur to a metal part the result would be scratched paint and possibly a dent. Which might add a certain emotional value to the thing. Scars are cool, after all.

I'm picking on the F6B a little here simply because it has so much plastic, but the truth is that plastic is a feature of a great many bikes. I'm in stupid love with the Victory Cross Country, for example, but I know that if you fling that bike on its side the result will be quite similar as with the F6B: lots of cracked plastic (b).

My question is: why?

Not why does plastic crack, but why do modern motorcycle manufacturers use so much plastic? Or, rather, isn't there anything else they could use instead?

I understand that plastic has a fair few advantages: it's relatively cheap to make (and therefore less cost is passed onto the consumer) and it's light. Both very good things. But would it be possible to use some sort of other material, like aluminium? Why not make aluminium fairing? Is that possible?

It seems to me that aluminium would be more or less as light and as cheap as plastic, but with the advantage of being less likely to crack. Or, what about magnesium, which weighs a third less than aluminium?

Is plastic really the best solution? I feel, however, that if my aluminium or magnesium idea was valid somebody would be doing it by now. So, there must be a good reason; I just don't know what it is. Anyone have an answer?

I'd love to know.

___________________

(a)I can't help noticing that it costs $20,000 in the United States, which is terribly unfair. Because $20,000 is £12,263. If offered here at that price it would be a damned reasonable machine. That price difference is so huge, I wonder if you'd ultimately come out ahead buying an F6B in the United States and importing it to the UK.

(b) Actually, no, I don't think that would necessarily happen, because I'm pretty sure the Cross Country comes with those kick-ass Victory floorboards that keep the bike from going all the way over.

There's something rather lewd about its look: all that engine spilling out of the frame and those Dali-esque pipes stretching its length. It's alluring. It feels indecent. It's like seeing a giant poster of Dita Von Teese in a public place, peering down at you while you and your wife walk through a shopping centre in search of mundane things like spatulas and a card for your Uncle Leroy's birthday. Deep down in your conscience, some part of you rumbles and tries to make you look away.

"Don't just stand there and gawp, man," your brain shouts. "Show a little decorum. Stop being such a perv."

But you can't stop looking, can't pull your eyes away. Each curve and line captivates you, hypnotizes you, and draws your eyes to the next. You stare and stare and stare as if trying to memorise it all. In the case of the Von Teese poster you might try to play it off, might try to tell your wife you were looking at something else (a), but in the case of the Moto Guzzi Griso it's OK to keep staring.

This is a bike that I want if not simply to be able to sit and look at it.

Although, the Dita Von Teese comparison is not quite right. The Griso's beauty is thuggish. And to just look at it is to miss all the fun. Its engine is equally thuggish, and the infamous transverse air-cooled V-twin kicks out a whopping 110 hp at 7,5000 rpm. It also produces a hefty 80 lb.-ft of torque. Those are damned good numbers for a 1200cc engine, y'all (compare them to the 61 hp and 67 lb.-ft of torque delivered by the equally 1200cc Harley-Davidson Sportster).

I've been consumed with thoughts of this bike for a few months now and have found myself reading every review I can find, watching every YouTube video. You know you've got it bad when you're willing to sit through a video of Germans in ill-fitting fedoras trying to be hip just for the sake of seeing and hearing the bike on the move.

When it fires up, the Griso's unique engine set-up causes it to shake from side to side. Moto Guzzi fans refer to that as "character" and I think I'd be perfectly fine with it because: a) it goes away once you're on the move; b) that shaking-at-idle sensation is something I thought was cool about riding a Harley-Davidson. I kind of like the idea of sitting on a machine that is so eager to hurtle me forward it cannot sit still.

And, as I say, once you give in to the bike's desire to move it apparently does so quite well, delivering –– according to reviews –– sporty performance in higher gears. Though, admittedly, in the low gears there can be a certain amount of lash from the Griso's shaft drive. I can't decide whether that would annoy me. I guess it depends on just how much lash there is and whether it would prevent me from feeling comfortable filtering through traffic.

But if it's just a matter of "quirkiness" and "character" and other diplomatic words to describe an engine that's behaving the way it looks then I suspect I might fall in love with it. I still often pine for the rodeo-bull nature of the 1969 Ford F250 pickup truck I used to drive in high school. A friend of mine commented at the time that the truck's suspension seemed to consist solely of the springy bench seat that bounced you up and down at speed.

However, as much as I love character, I have a pretty hard-line stance on anti-lock brakes. The Griso comes with a number of desirable features like shaft drive, LED lighting and dual front brake discs, but those brakes are not anti-lock. Because of this, I had somewhat dismissed the Griso as a machine that I'd ever spend my own money on.

But then Moto Guzzi announced that another bike I love the look of, the V7 Stone, will soon be equipped with ABS and traction control. Why a 48 hp bike needs traction control, I don't know; but it struck me as a big announcement because I think most people assumed that manufacturers of "modern classics" like the V7 Stone, the Triumph Bonneville and the Kawasaki W800 would hold off on adhering to upcoming EU regulations for as long as they could, milking their standard braking systems for one more year.

"Hey, wow," I thought upon learning of the changes coming to the V7 Stone. "Perhaps this could be my next bike. It's definitely got the look and style; now it's got the brakes I want."

And, indeed, the V7 very well could be something I'd get. Though I'm still a little put off by two issues: a) the whole 48 hp thing; b) it requires bias/cross-ply tires. It's always been my understanding that bias are dangerously inferior to radial tires (b).

Meanwhile, it occurs to me that if Moto Guzzi is planning to update its most classic bike for 2015 it should almost certainly do the same with other models, including the Griso. I would expect full details to come out this week at the INTERMOT show.

So, the Griso is back on my list. The question now is how to pay for it. Like other Italian motorcycles, Moto Guzzis do not come cheap.

____________________

(a)I'm very lucky that in this particular case I would not have to manufacture a lie. My wife used to be a burlesque dancer. So I could just outright point at the poster and say: "Babe, we need to get you a bustier like that!"

(b) If anyone would like to shed light on whether I am wrong in this, please do so in the comment section. I really don't know that much about tires.

Latest Images