What I want: Honda Valkyrie (aka Honda F6C)

November 22, 2013, 3:50 am

≪ Previous: Gear review: Furygan Revol Evo

Here comes the sexy

I'll warn you now: this post is a meandering one...

I am fond of pondering the When It All Goes Horribly Wrong scenario. This is a what-if scenario that started showing up in my usual daydream repertoire sometime after my first wife left me. At that time I didn't really have a prepared response for such a happening, so I just spent a year or so wallowing in utter misery. I taught myself to play a few chords on the guitar and wrote two bittersweet love songs for an imaginary girl, but by and large that time was ill spent.

Because what you are supposed to do when something traumatic happens -- if films and rock songs have taught us anything -- is suddenly veer onto a life path that is generally out of character and more awesome. You are supposed to travel to Italy, India and Indonesia and thereafter write a book about it. Or at least change your hair style and start a new career. I often think that one of the greatest appeals of Doctor Who is his ability to regenerate: when everything turns to poop the Doctor literally becomes someone else.

So, to ensure I won't make the same mistake again, my imagination has decided, rather unimaginatively, that future response to a When It All Goes Horribly Wrong situation is to drop everything, take to the open roads of North America and live the life of a vagabond.

As it happens, I was in the early stages of finally forming this response when I first met Jenn. I was even to the point of looking online at cars that I thought might be up to the task of serving as my home. In particular, I had my eye on a relatively low-mileage Ford Econoline. The whole plan was shelved, of course, when I fell in love with Jenn. It slipped back into the realm of daydream and, as you might suspect, these days the vehicle of choice is a motorcycle.

"If Jenn ever leaves me," I tell myself, "I will sell everything I possibly can, pack up and ship myself back to the States. Then I will buy a motorcycle and set out to roam the vastness of North America in my loneliness, surviving only on my wits and my incredibly profitable writing ability (a)."

It is, as I say, a cliche daydream, but the beauty of it is that it can also be adapted into a When It All Goes Terrifically Well scenario. So, you know, rather than imagining the utter misery of being without my wife, I can daydream such an action as a response to our winning the lottery.

Indeed, I prefer this second scenario. I mean, life without Jenn -- even one spent awander (b) on a motorcycle -- would be a great big mountain of suck. Besides, it is easier to travel a place from a position of financial strength. And that latter truth would certainly come in handy fulfilling the part of the daydream that I spend the most time on: the question of which motorcycle I would choose as my cross-country steed.

For a while, my machine of choice was the aptly named Victory Cross Country. A big, comfortable beast that can serve as a sort of home base for a person. Sure, the bikes people actually use for making round-the-world trips are more often than not V-Stroms, KLRs and other 650s, but when the idea is to permanently trundle across a continent you -- or, at least, I -- want something with more heft. Something that's too heavy to steal. And I like, too, that the Cross Country is (86-percent) American-made.

Since the return of Indian Motorcycles, however, the Cross Country has in my heart been replaced by the Indian Chieftain. With its ridiculous train-like fairing it looks cooler and has the je ne sais quoi of heritage.

But my love of Honda is well documented, and when you're daydreaming about living every day astride a bike, the reliability of a Big Red machine starts to sound pretty appealing. Even in fantasy scenarios. So, it is usually not too long into the daydream that I start to consider the Honda F6B. Basically a Goldwing without the old-man top box, it's a bike that's won a fair bit of accolades since coming out not too long ago.

The F6B has a unique look that possibly doesn't yet encourage goofy stereotypes of its riders, and it has more technological wizardry at a lower price than a Chieftain (the "deluxe" version of the F6B costs $2,000 less than a standard Chieftain). And, unlike the Chieftain, it's shaft-driven.

My history of really wanting a Triumph but choosing in the end to just get a Honda (and thereafter tell people I wish I had a Triumph) suggests I'd do the same sort of thing again in this scenario. I'd get the F6B, then stare longingly at each and every Chieftain I saw.

All that said, one thing sort of bothers me about the bikes I put into this daydream: I'm not entirely sure I like baggers. I mean, those hard bags are just things that will break when I inevitably drop the bike, right? And the nature of them somewhat limits what I can put in them. In my (very few) long trips thus far I've found I prefer the utility and, it has to be said, look of things like dry bags. As I've mentioned before, nothing says "I'm on an adventure!" better than having bags strapped to your bike.

And do I need all the fairing that's on the Chieftain and F6B? Well, maybe. I would be travelling here there and everywhere, after all. But the cowls on the F6B and the Chieftain hold speakers, which is something that doesn't really interest me. Having a sound system seems to me just a load of extra weight and equipment that likely won't hold up well to heavy rain. Besides, I'm the sort of person who listens to Danielle Ate the Sandwich; I probably don't need to broadcast that to my fellow riders.

Though, it would be hilarious if I did. I would love to roll into Sturgis blaring "Indiana."

No, perhaps a screen is all I'd need. Or just a more rigid constitution and increased forearm strength. And with that thought in mind I have often entertained the idea of choosing an Indian Chief Classic as my vehicle of choice. I think it would look kind of cool bedecked in Kriega and dry bags, and I reckon it's the sort of machine that would age well (in terms of looks, at least). But then, this week Honda announced the new Valkyrie.

Oh, my. I mean, oh. My.

That is an insane-looking machine. I've deliberately allowed myself a meandering post just for the sake of being able to put in loads of pictures of it. Basically, a Goldwing that's been stripped down even more than the F6B. This thing is a great big hunk of futuristic sex awesomeness. Paint it in dark grey with red trim and it would look very much like the ride of choice for Judge Dredd. And for a kid who grew up bouncing around his bedroom screaming the lyrics to "I Am the Law" that's pretty much all the selling point a bike needs.

But, no, it looks even cooler than that. I love those huge radiator vents, giving it the look of something you'd use to attack a planet. The headlight looks like some sort of disruptor cannon. I don't even know what a disruptor cannon is; I just made that phrase up. But still, that is what the headlight looks like.

OK, yes, the Valkyrie is ungodly heavy and would probably be a whole lot of Not Fun to ride in a challenging urban situation. I'm guessing it filters with the agility of a drunken moose. And you probably wouldn't want to ride up the notoriously steep streets of Duluth, MN when going to pick up your Aerostitch Roadcrafter, risking getting stuck at a light while on a 23-percent incline. But with that weight comes the ability to ride through tornadoes and test the structural integrity of country bridges.

Also, how awesome is it that Honda names a motorcycle after the Norse harbingers of death? In Norse mythology, a valkyrie is a female form that rides into a battle and determines who will live and who will die. It's appropriate imagery, I suppose. No doubt one would feel like a member of the Riders in the Sky when tearing across the continent on this thing.

No, not that Riders in the Sky. This Riders in the Sky -- the one driving a ghost herd. Because that's what one does on the Valkyrie: takes control of demon animals. Demon animals from space. Which you shoot with your disruptor cannon.

Someone buy me this bike. I have cities I want to conquer.

__________

(a)Hey, it is, after all, a fantasy scenario. The fact I've thus far failed to support myself with writing doesn't need to stand in the way of my imagining it.

(b)It would appear that "awander" is not actually a word. It should be.

↧

What I want: Honda NC750X

November 26, 2013, 12:54 pm

≫ Next: 28 months before

≪ Previous: What I want: Honda Valkyrie (aka Honda F6C)

Honda NC750X

I try not to look at the stats for this blog too much. I've been blogging in one form or another for a decade now and experience tells me that wandering too deep into the dark woods of blog stats can be detrimental to one's mental health. You start to feel that the incalculable whims of the internets are somehow a reflection on you, your ability to write, etc. If lots of people are reading you feel good, and you become miserable when the opposite is true.

Soon, like the Southern preacher who gets money pressed into his hand at the end of sermons, you find yourself trying to chase after the topics that you think interest people, rather than what necessarily interests you. And thereafter your blog starts to suck.

That said, I want in this post to return to something I've written about before and which has turned out to be one of the more popular topics that brings people to this blog. According to my stats, here are the top three search terms that lead people to this site:

1) boss hoss

2) honda nc700x

3) nc700x

That first one, of course, is inexplicable. And inexcusable. You people should be ashamed of yourselves. Like Orange County Choppers, Boss Hoss are representative of much that is wrong with motorcycling. These are the Bright Young Things painting themselves gold and swimming in Champagne whilst great lines of unemployed workers starve to death (a). That is to say they are fascinating, excessive and ultimately detrimental –– almost entirely lacking in quality. Or, as I previously described them: abominable hunks of prematurely ejaculated patriotism.

No, forget that noise. What I'm interested in is the NC700X. I wrote a post about that motorcycle roughly seven months ago, and still there are people showing up now and again to comment on it. Indeed, it's become something of a tiny forum, with many people showing up to report their experiences with the bike. And I can't help but notice that the feedback is almost entirely positive.

I still have yet to ride an NC700X, in part because I'm afraid I'll find myself signing a purchase agreement as a result of it. Having read extensively about the machine, and having sat upon it at Thunder Road I know that it possesses all the features I like about my beloved Aliona with a number of added perks: considerably better gas mileage, a lower centre of gravity, and a whole lot of storage space.

Admittedly, Aliona's engine delivers 21 bhp more than the 51-bhp NC700X (Aliona has 76 bhp in total), but the NC700X has (just) slightly more torque and I've come to realise that my riding style may not demand all that much power. Whereas other people see an empty road as an opportunity to push a bike to its limits, if no one else is around I gleefully slow down to about 25mph and weave.

But now there is at least one thing (apart from the obvious thing, i.e., lack of money) keeping me from buying an NC700X: Honda has announced it is soon to upgrade the bike and it will become the NC750X. An extra 75cc will deliver a whopping 4 bhp more, but more interestingly, the gearing has been adjusted to make it even more handy at highway speeds.

I use the What I Want tag to yammer on about all types of motorcycles, but in my mind the list splits into two categories: bikes I wish I had, and bikes that I am very legitimately considering within the confines of existing circumstances (i.e., bikes that I don't need to win the lottery to own). I can honestly see the NC750X becoming my next bike. Well, unless Triumph produce a Speedmaster with ABS tout de suite.

Maybe they will; I don't really see myself being able to get another motorcycle until late 2015 (b). But those two machines –– the NC750X and the Speedmaster (assuming it has ABS [c]) –– are at the very top of my Legitimately Considering list.

They are certainly different machines, and that gives you a clue as to my main issue with the NC750X: it doesn't look terribly cool. I have, as I say, seen the NC700X in the flesh and although I am totally in love with its features and practicality, I'm not at all that jazzed about its plasticy plasticness.

The NC750X is not a bike that's necessarily going to get you laid. Sure, it will efficiently, reliably and comfortably transport yourself and your hookup to a hotel room. But the act of convincing said pareja de amor to get on the bike in the first place is going to be solely down to your individual charm; the bike is not going to help out.

Everything on the NC750X is plastic. That makes it lightweight and durable, and means scratches are less cause for concern (when you scratch plastic it doesn't result in rust as with metal), but, you know, it's plastic.

Plastic doesn't gleam in the sun, nor is it the sort of thing that ages well. Or, rather, the look of plastic –– its aura. Plastic belongs on a new thing. Name me one plastic-laden item from 1993 that still looks cool. Although technically timeless and inclined to last roughly 100,000 years, plastic doesn't have a timeless feel. Within a decade or so, it makes an item look cheap.

And certainly that was my impression of the big storage cover on the NC700X. Its plastic looked a little too easy to break into. Easier to access than the tank bags and dry bags that I use otherwise? Not so much, but you get my point.

Overall, I like the NC750X a lot. A whole lot. Enough to pay money for it. But I'm not sure I could ever really love it.

__________

(a)EF Morgan was of similar circles. He famously tormented Aldous Huxley by releasing a baboon into his room. Crikey, the inter-war period was fascinating.

(b)But hey, hope springs eternal. A year ago, it was pretty damn unlikely that I'd have Aliona by now.

(c)ABS will be required on all motorcycles sold in Europe from 2016. So, assuming Triumph doesn't ditch the Speedmaster, it will eventually have ABS. The question is whether I'd be willing to wait that long.

↧

28 months before

December 2, 2013, 7:45 am

≫ Next: A small request

≪ Previous: What I want: Honda NC750X

The simplicity of the Triumph Speedmaster

"I wonder if I could put together £8,000 within 28 months," I find myself asking.

That's how long I have until my 40th birthday, which, I keep telling myself, is when I want to buy a new bike. Actually, I'd like to buy a new bike today. And tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. There are dozens upon dozens of bikes I'd own if I had the deep pockets and storage space of, say, Jay Leno. But in the real world, in this life that I'm actually living, my 40th birthday seems the most likely milestone upon which to hang such a target.

I like to do that: set goals for myself and attach target dates that have some sort of greater significance. For example, in July 2005, when London was announced as the host city for the 2012 Olympic Games, I promised myself I would be living in the UK by the time the games took place. As it turned out, I accomplished that goal with six years to spare.

Life throws happy surprises at you. Maybe a new bike will come sooner. But, hell, maybe the bike I want won't even exist until then.

Lately I have fallen into a cycle of thinking about three different bikes as The One I Want Next. All of them are cruisers. As much as I appreciate Aliona and hold the highest respect for motorbikes like the V-Strom and the NC750X, there's something about them that just doesn't tick all the right boxes for me. I mean, I don't know if it really is necessary for this to be a part of one's motorcycle choice, but none of the aforementioned are bikes where I think: "I want to be seen on this machine."

I am perfectly happy to be seen riding Aliona. There is no shame. Indeed, I can't think of any motorcycle -- tiny 125cc machines included (a) -- that I would really be ashamed to be seen riding. I love all motorcycles. But certain versions draw a stronger emotional response than others. For example, when I rode the Harley-Davidson XL1200 I was was out of my mind with boyish glee. I wanted to stop and ask people to take pictures of me on it; I wanted to be seen. I wanted to shout: "Look at me!"

Harley-Davidson Seventy-Two

So, when I daydream of The One I Want Next, I can't help but think about those machines that more directly please the id. Top of my list at the moment are: the Victory Judge, the Harley-Davidson Seventy-Two, and the Triumph Speedmaster.

The fact I am imagining ownership of these bikes in the future helps put them on the list. In 2016 (when I turn 40), all bikes over 125cc will be required in the European Union to come equipped with antilock brakes. As it happens, the UK version of the Seventy-Two already comes with ABS as a standard feature (though that information is mysteriously buried in the literature), but the other two would presently be off any of my lists by default. For me, a motorcycle must have antilock brakes.

The Judge is the least likely to end up as my future machine. Out of the three it is easily the most expensive -- £3,000 more than the Speedmaster and £2,000 more than the Seventy-Two. OK, yes, it's got a hell of a lot more power than the other two (it's got 123bhp and 106 feet of torque) and from all reports is a pretty bad-ass machine. The Victory Vegas has the same engine and this guy rode one of those from London to Iran and back. But its starting price is £11,395. With all of these bikes I would have to invest in a passenger seat, so I'm guessing that would push my costs closer to £12,000.

The Seventy-Two is arguably the best-looking of the three. Indeed, there's a tiny part of me that feels it would be too cool for me, that I simply wouldn't match up to the aesthetic awesomeness of the machine. But certainly I'd be willing to give it a try. With the exact same engine as the XL1200 I rode, I already have a sense of what it would be like to ride this bike, so it is the easiest to imagine. I feel that I could probably get used to all the rumbling of the bike and that an easy-on windscreen would resolve the issues I had on my test ride, feeling I was going to be ripped from the bike at speed. In reviews I've read, the mini ape-hanger bars on the Seventy-Two work well for a person who, like me, is 6-foot-1, creating a comfortable and normal riding position.

Victory Judge

The drawback to the Seventy-Two, however, is that it has an itty bitty tank, holding just 2 gallons of petrol. Assuming typical HD gas mileage, you likely couldn't cover the Twin Cities; 494/694 loop without needing to stop. The Seventy-Two's starting price is £9,195. Assuming the purchase of a screen and new seat, I'd guess the price for the bike I want to be somewhere around the £10,000 mark.

Meanwhile, the Speedmaster was the first bike I ever really fell in love with. I saw one in the flesh on the way to a job interview many months ago and was almost late because I spent so much time staring at that beautiful, sexy thing. Really, pictures do not do it justice. There is something full-on gorgeous about the Speedmaster that makes you feel not just a little bit naughty in your pants.

Despite running with a smaller engine than the Seventy-Two, the Speedmaster's 870cc engine produces roughly the same bhp, though has 20 feet less torque (54 compared to the HD's 73). Additionally, when I factor in the cost of a windscreen and passenger seat and engine bars, its price tag comes in at just a tiny bit shy of £8,000.

So, I find myself frequently pondering that question: Could I put together £8,000 in the next 28 months? That works out to be just a little more than £285 a month, which, interestingly, is only £280 more a month than I presently have spare. Maybe I should start up a Kickstarter or some sort of GoFundMe campaign.

But hey, 28 months is a long time, and life sometimes throws you a happy surprise. Hope springs eternal.

__________

(a)Indeed, I am always wishing Jenn would take a greater interest in motorcycling solely for the sake of our being able to get her a Suzuki VanVan -- I would love to have a go on one of those.

↧

A small request

December 5, 2013, 6:53 am

≫ Next: 20 things I've learned about motorcycling

≪ Previous: 28 months before

Hey, all y'all with motorcycle-related blogs: Can you please not have white text on a black background? I mean, it's pretty much every single one of you. Clearly, it's a look that a lot of people like and one of the general rules of this here blog is that I don't like to piss on things that other people like -- especially when it comes to things that are motorcycle-related.

But, see, here's the thing: white text on a black background induces headaches. No, really, look it up. Web designers hate light text on dark background, but more importantly up to 50 percent of the population may suffer adverse effects from staring at that combination too long. That is especially true for me. The two times in my life that I have suffered a migraine headache came after reading white text on a dark background for too long. So, now I generally don't do it.

This means that for many of you, I don't really read your blogs as much as I'd prefer unless I can find a workaround. For example, I only read Sash's blog on my phone, because the mobile version produces traditional black text on light background.

As I say, though, A LOT of motorcycle bloggers like that dark background look, so I'm definitely not criticising anyone for the way they choose to express themselves online. I just wanted to point it out and apologise to those whose blogs I can't read.

↧

20 things I've learned about motorcycling

December 6, 2013, 12:00 am

≫ Next: I think we may actually be better

≪ Previous: A small request

Aliona and me

Today marks exactly six months since Aliona came into my life. That's not all that much time in the grand scheme of things, but she is, of course, my first motorcycle. So, a lot of things have happened since that exciting June day I took the train out to Cheltenham to pick her up. And from all the experiences since then, those thousands of miles travelled, I feel I've gained a certain amount of knowledge. So, here are 20 things I've learned in my first six months of motorcycle ownership:

When kids wave at you, it's awesome.
Expect spiders to be hiding in the motorcycle cover.
Expect spiders to be hiding in your helmet. They will usually only reveal themselves when you are taking a curve at 80 mph.
Baby wipes are your friend. They are especially useful in cleaning your helmet -- inside and out.
Cold tires really are slippery. That's not just something that people say.
Pay attention to tire pressure. And the chain. And fluid levels. And tire tread. And all the other stuff they tell you.
Your hands will always have grease on them. If your hands are clean that means you've been off the bike too long.
Confidence ebbs and flows. Sometimes you just have a gut bad feeling about a corner or filtering opportunity, etc. and it builds The Fear in you. It's OK to back off in these moments; if necessary, pull over, stop, turn off the engine, get off the bike and take a break.
Seriously, learn the value of taking breaks. Really. Even if you're not tired. Turn off the bike; listen to the sound of the world.
Nothing makes you feel more like a magician/god like turning your bike on the side stand. Learn how to do it.
Keep practicing all that stupid stuff they made you do in training. Yeah, you feel like a loser doing circles in a parking lot on a Sunday morning. But when you find yourself having to U-turn on a stupidly cambered road in some place where drivers have the patience of hornets, you'll be glad you did.
Getting angry at bad drivers accomplishes nothing. Expect them to do stupid things; acknowledge; move on. Punching their car only hurts your hand and the reputation of all other riders.
The overwhelming majority of drivers are not that bad. For every crappy driver you encounter think of the thousands upon thousands that you pass without incident. Often, a friendly wave or nod will pull drivers out of their little zone and they will suddenly become courteous.
Check the weather of the place you're going. Just because it's not raining where you started out doesn't mean it won't be pissing rain in the place you end up.
Expect it to rain. Because it will. Even if you checked. The simple act of getting on a bike is a taunt at God, saying: "I dare you, Almighty Universe Creator, to make me wet and miserable." And he will almost always take you up on that challenge.
Get used to chatting with old guys. Bees are to pollen as old men are to motorcycles. If you ride, you are effectively communicating to every old man within sight that you really want him to come over and tell you every single motorcycle-related experience he can think of.
You will drop your bike. It's like death and taxes, yo. Accept it.
Riding will make you hungry. As Sash has already pointed out, riding a motorcycle works up an appetite. Make sure you eat enough; not eating makes you stupid. And being stupid makes you crash.
Make sure you work out. Not just for the sake of contradicting the negative effects of eating too much, you should try to keep as fit as possible. Your riding will dramatically benefit from the increased strength and stamina that comes from working out regularly.
Everything is an adventure. If you're like I am, you get caught up in the romanticism of great road trips, and somehow this results in your forgetting to appreciate the everyday. So, you'll want to go for a ride but think: "Nah, it's dark and I've got work in the morning." Get on the bike, you idiot. Even if it's just for a few miles.

Did I miss any? What are some of the most important lessons you've learned?

↧

I think we may actually be better

December 11, 2013, 8:02 am

≫ Next: The wind, the fear and the ridiculous

≪ Previous: 20 things I've learned about motorcycling

Why wouldn't you outlaw this?

I've spent a lot of time thinking about this: if I'm ever riding in Minnesota and find myself in a situation where I deem filtering to be appropriate, I'm just going to go ahead and do it. If any drivers shout at me, I will say this: "Actually, it is legal. Check Minnesota Statute 169.974, particularly subdivision 5, clause E. See, the reason I know that is because a lot of people think it's not legal, but, really, it is. I'm sorry to have frightened you, though."

The statute referenced is, of course, the exact one that explicitly forbids filtering ("No person shall operate a motorcycle between lanes of moving or stationary vehicles headed in the same direction, nor shall any person drive a motorcycle abreast of or overtake or pass another vehicle within the same traffic lane"). But the driver won't know that.

If I get stopped by a police officer, I will mention living in the UK and explain that I was confused. I will apologise profusely and hopefully he or she let me off with a stern talking to. Or, you know, I'll get hit with a $128 fine (a).

I'll risk it, though (at least until I get fined), because I love me some filtering so much. I've written about filtering in the past, so I won't rehash that argument except to say that I genuinely cannot understand why any motorcyclist would be against such useful facet of riding. Sure, I can understand why a motorcyclist might personally feel a little uncomfortable with the idea -- because he or she has not yet developed their skills to that level. But I can't understand why they would say: "No. There should be a law and we should all line up in orderly fashion, like good little automatons."

And, yet, there are people like that. RideApart last week ran an essay from a person whose argument effectively consisted of, "Ooh, scary. Me no likey."

Dude, everything is scary. No, really. Every. Thing. Take a moment to think about asteroids, for instance. An asteroid that is only 60 feet across, if it struck the Earth would have the effect of an atomic bomb. If it struck a populated area, instantaneously 70,000 people would die. Poof. Just like that.

This may be the last thing you read.

And want to take a guess at how many such asteroids are floating in our solar system? Oh, at least 25 million. Or, well, the fact is, NASA can't reliably spot anything smaller than 100 feet across, so there are at least 25 million of those asteroids. Smaller yet still-totally-deadly ones? No clue.

Also, there at least 8,000 asteroids that move directly through Earth's orbit each year, roughly 1,000 of which are 1 kilometre across or more! A kilometre-sized rock would fuck Earth up, yo.

Think about that. No, stop, take a moment, and really think about how terrifyingly likely is your instantaneous death. That is scary. Far scarier than the idea of navigating a motorcycle between two stationary or slow-moving vehicles.

As I thought about my response to that RideApart article I thought, too, of an exchange I had with a representative from the Minnesota chapter of ABATE not too long ago. I had written to them to ask what their stance is on filtering and whether they are making any effort to see it legalised in my beloved Land of 10,000 Lakes.

The short answer is: nope.

In ABATE's reply (b) they said that I was only the second person to have ever raised the issue with them. But I got the feeling that their overall attitude toward filtering was as lacking in enthusiasm as that of the American Motorcycle Association. And in that reply I was offered this beautiful gem of a quote:
"It is important to remember that the average motorist in Minnesota is not as talented as those in... England. This is fact not opinion (we can't even begin to grasp the concept of a zipper merge at road construction sites). This would make lane splitting very dangerous in Minnesota."

And all of this led to my suddenly asking myself: "Wait. Are British riders better?!"

Maybe I'm just thinking that because I ride and learned to ride in the UK. And certainly there are plenty of exceptions to the rule on both sides of the pond but I think, just maybe, yeah -- they're better over here.

An actual "road" in Swindon

The UK has roads that in some cases were designed almost 2,000 years ago, when the Romans were here. Look, here's a map of Roman roads, and here's a map of UK motorways. Note that the motorways are in exactly the same places as the Roman roads were. And that's just layout. In some parts of the UK, the actual width of the road has not changed, despite the fact the modes of transportation have (for an example of narrow roads, check out this guy riding in northern Scotland). And on all UK roads, maintenance is notoriously appalling. The street where I live, for example, looks as though it hasn't been taken care of since the Nazis bombed it.

These narrow, poorly maintained roads are used by an overcrowded population. Southern England is the most densely populated area in Europe. And across the UK we have squeezed twice the population of Canada into a space the size of Oregon. We are shoulder-to-shoulder all up in this island and that tends to create short tempers. British drivers are some of the most road-ragey people I have ever experienced and they are extremely aggressive in their driving.

Watch this video -- look at all the things that are swirling all around him, coming at him from every direction. But he is so used to it that his only concern is being annoyed by the behaviour of a rent-a-cop (c). That's how we roll, yo. Many years ago, I was driving an American through Cardiff and she started crying because of sensory overload -- she was convinced we were going to die, and I had been taking it easy.

Meanwhile, on top of our narrow, poorly maintained and overcrowded roads, and alongside our multitudes of angry, inattentive, aggressive, selfish and usually distracted drivers we have the joy of British weather. It is always cold. It is always wet. It is always blowing a gale. If we held to the standards of some of the American riders I've encountered, our "riding season" would consist of approximately one day.

The best way to commute.

I suspect that all of these things are reasons that motorcycling faces so many challenges in the UK. Many people simply prefer the all-weather shelter of an automobile. But that's a truth that serves as a sort of filter: there is a natural weeding-out process to motorcycling in Her Majesty's United Kingdom. And those ~~tough enough~~ stupid enough to put up with all the chaos and climatological misery display a dedication that I think, on the whole, results in their being better motorcyclists.

As an American it pains me to admit that, but I think it may be true.

__________

(a)Yeesh, Minnesota. When did your fines get so expensive? I can remember when dicking around only set me back $15.

(b)Which was very much appreciated by the way. I am pretty critical of ABATE and the AMA because I feel that they are too hung up on the issue of helmets and fail to focus on issues that are of greater actual benefit to riders. But I appreciate the efforts they make overall to promote riding.

(c)OK, yeah, PCSOs are not rent-a-cops, but you get my point.

↧

The wind, the fear and the ridiculous

December 17, 2013, 5:06 am

≫ Next: The strange and sudden decline of RideApart

≪ Previous: I think we may actually be better

You know that advice they always give about riding with a passenger? "Take it easy," they say. "Make everything as gentle as possible. Don't frighten your passenger."

They have obviously never met my wife.

"YAHWOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she screamed against the wind as the two of us zig-zagged down the A449 Saturday.

We were flying down the dual carriageway ("freeway" for those of you playing along at home) at 90 mph with crosswinds kicking us around in our lane. In curves, the wind would occasionally push us upright and I'd have to fight to drop us back into the lean. At other times it would punch so hard it felt almost tangible, as if an animal had jumped out and headbutted us. Leaves and sticks and all manner of things swirled in the air and plinked against our helmets. Jenn was having the time of her life.

We had ridden that morning to the Farmer's Boy Inn, a pub 10 miles west of Gloucester, which I had spotted during one of my many Staring At Google Maps sessions. I spend hours staring at Google Maps, imagining various road trips, from the practical (e.g., an afternoon ride to a pub) to the overly ambitious (e.g., a multi-day peregrination through Ireland and Scotland's western islands).

We had travelled to the pub through the Forest of Dean, an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty that borders England and Wales. The roads had been wet and curvy and leaf-covered and gravel-strewn, and I had struggled to take them at anything other than a snail's pace. In terms of actual experience I am still pretty green and still haven't worked out how to hit curves with full confidence even in the best of conditions. Add the weight of a passenger on these roads and I was a jumble of nerves.

Cars lined up behind us and I could feel drivers' frustration mixing with and exacerbating The Fear. British drivers have the patience of cocaine addicts with hemorrhoids. If you hold them up they become panic-fixated on the NEED to get past you. Never in their lives has anything ever been so singularly important as getting past you; and they will risk everything, particularly your safety, to accomplish that task. They are not the people you want behind you -- right behind you -- when you're gingerly making your way around yet another blind hairpin.

On top of this, I could sense that Jenn was miserable. She was too cold. This was the first time she had ridden with me since early autumn and she had not worn enough layers. I just wanted to get her to the pub, wanted to get away from these angry drivers, and away from these crappy roads.

One of the less-enjoyable aspects of riding is that sometimes -- not often, but sometimes -- all these little pins-and-needles frustrations build up in you and you find yourself wanting to pitch a fit. As we rode along, I half-fantasised about just stopping, pushing the bike to the ground and throwing a tantrum, like a toddler who's simply had too much Christmas shopping.

I didn't do that. We made it to the pub safely and I felt a deep sense of happiness in shutting off the engine and putting the bike on its stand.

The Farmer's Boy Inn is a ridiculous place. It reminded me of Johnnie Fox's in Ireland, a place with so much tat on the walls it makes you dizzy. Farming equipment, mugs, bits of brass, a million things for which you cannot even begin to guess the purpose, and a great superfluity of "hilarious" apothegms such as: "The day I stop drinking is the day I stop breathing, and the day I stop breathing is the day I stop drinking."

Appropriately, the Farmer's Boy Inn is run by an enthusiastic Irishman who cheerfully and rapidly banters with everyone in the pub at once. There was a roaring fire and after a mug of tea and some wine Jenn felt more herself. I had a boar and cider pie, she had a burger. Jenn noted that it was a proper inn, i.e., a place that has rooms for the night, and we briefly entertained the idea of just staying there and getting drunk rather than venturing back out into the cold and wet.

Practicality won over, though, and we geared up to head home. To help keep warm, Jenn wrapped each foot in 3 feet of toilet paper before putting on her boots.

I decided to take a quicker route home and soon we were opening the throttle on the straight and wide of the A449. A road that runs down a mountain valley it is always windy, but it was particularly so on this afternoon. Sharp gusts jabbed at us from all directions and the bike danced its way toward the M4. In my head I kept repeating the mantra of gyroscopic effect: a motorcycle at speed is naturally inclined to stay upright. Effectively all I needed to do was stay on the bike -- keep loose, don't over correct -- and physics would see us home.

According to the internets, wind was gusting at 60 kmh (37 mph) that day and I'll admit that I wasn't really enjoying being bullied by Mother Nature. That is, until I heard Jenn whooping and cheering. She was having a blast. With her shouting above the roar of wind I started laughing.

"That was like being on a motorcycle," she said afterward. "Usually it's just, you know, sit there and look at stuff. But that was like areal motorcycle."

I can't say I'm not a little hurt by that remark. It suggests to me Jenn feels I take things a little too easy. The cliche is that wives always complain their husbands are reckless, mine seems to think I'm over-cautious. Perhaps she should be the one steering and I should be the one holding on.

↧

The strange and sudden decline of RideApart

December 20, 2013, 12:00 am

≫ Next: Oh, uhm, Merry Christmas, by the way

≪ Previous: The wind, the fear and the ridiculous

RideApart now churns out crap like this.

If you're a regular reader of this blog, you'll have likely picked up by now that one of my favourite motorcycle websites is RideApart. Or, rather, was RideApart. In the last few weeks its quality has rapidly decreased and it has become something that both angers and saddens me, whereas it used to inspire.

And if you're a long-time reader of this blog you may remember my story: I got my motorcycle endorsement in Minnesota when I was 18 years old, but didn't actually make any effort to ride until almost two decades later. Then, suddenly, I had to ride. The reason for that instant awakening of interest has always been tricky for me to explain satisfactorily. It just sort of happened, just sort of became impossible to ignore. But I can, at least, pinpoint a handful of things that had a major effect on me -- things that lit the fire:

Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs by Hunter S. Thompson. It wasn't all that great of a book. The writing is pretty weak at many points. But it helped open my mind to the idea of a motorcycle as transportation, rather than a shiny way for an old man to compensate for erectile dysfunction (a).
The "You Know, I Know and They Know" video. There is a whole genre of self-aggrandising hipster/chopper motorcycle videos out there and I've probably sat through every single one. The best and most beautiful, though, is this one.
That episode of RideApart when Jamie goes to Sequoia National Forest on a Triumph Bonneville. Jamie Robinson is a Yorkshireman who was once England's best grand prix racer. He retired in 2008 and now makes a living being the guy you wish you could be by riding all kinds of bikes in all kinds of places. The great appeal of Jamie is that he maintains an enthusiasm for all bikes regardless of type or engine size; if it's got two wheels, it's fun.

By extension, "Hell for Leather," the accompaniment website to RideApart. Originally, RideApart was just the name of the video series. Early in 2013, the old Hell for Leather name was dropped and everything was joined under the RideApart name. Jamie left for MotoGeo and the RideApart site got a rather commercial-looking overhaul. That may have been the first clue...

First of all, you're in Canada...

Be it in the guise of Hell for Leather or RideApart, I read the site religiously. The first thing I would do each morning at work was click on my computer and read all the new articles. RideApart influenced everything from my attitude in riding and toward riding, to the gear I wear. I found the articles to be interesting, informative and engaging. In general, they held that Jamie Robinson enthusiasm for all motorcycles and the truth that being on a motorcycle does not mean having to adopt some sort of accompanying lifestyle; i.e., if you ride a Harley that doesn't mean you have to dress and behave like a member of the Cult of Latter-day Harley-Davidson. I also felt that the general tone of discussions in the comments were more friendly, more intelligent and more fun than one finds in many other places.

Then, one day it all started to go south.

To my mind, the downfall of RideApart began with this article, in which executive editor Wes Siler basically did a big tinkle all over everyone who has the audacity to be really interested in motorcycles. You know, like, those stupid noobs who would read a motorcycle-focused website.

"No, I don't want to help you learn to go faster. No, I don't want to spend my lunchtime talking about Marc Marquez, again. And yes, I've ridden that route before," he whined in an article that I'm sure he would tell you was supposed to be funny.

But it lacked a key element in funny stories: anything resembling a sense of humour. Read that article and you can see that Wes is serious. He thinks he's pretty damned special. And he thinks you're pretty damned stupid if you don't already know all the things he knows, if you don't adhere to his view, if you don't subscribe to his way. It is an article that is a complete rejection of the erstwhile all-encompasing RideApart philosophy.

I called him on his arrogance at the time. In a comment, I suggested he needed to humble himself. I told him to re-watch the video episode of RideApart where he gets The Fear and starts crying on the freeway and realise that he is not so much more fantastic than the people who help pay his salary by visiting his site. The comment was deleted.

When I knew RideApart had jumped the shark.

Since then, RideApart seems to have fallen into a long slide. Articles are increasingly arrogant and centred on sportbike riders who live in Southern California. Or, well, those are the articles worth reading. The rest of the site is filled out by intolerable fluff. RideApart seems desperate to turn itself into the Buzzfeed of motorcycling, with every other article written in list format and almost none of it having any real content.

"4 Reasons I don't Split Lanes,""10 Reasons You Shouldn't Date a Motorcyclist,""13 Things More Dangerous Than Riding a Motorcycle," and on and on and on with an endless torrent of effluent. These articles are completely devoid of any actual content. There are a lot of words and pictures in them -- enough to get you to click at least twice in the sory to increase page views -- but no actual information. The lane-splitting article was merely a collection of unfounded opinions, the list of things more dangerous than a motorcycle was a list of things that were not in any way comprable to motorcycling and which were mathematically proven by one of the commenters to not, in fact, be more dangerous.

In that aforementioned article I commented that I felt RideApart had lost its way, that its endless lists and general alienation of all but a core segment of readers was offputting and disappointing. The comment, of course, was deleted.

So, I'm saying it here: You've let me down RideApart. Whereas you were one of my big inspirations to finally get on a motorcycle, you've now turned into the sort of thing that makes me just a little bit embarassed to be a motorcyclist.

____________________

(a)Unfortunately, the Minnesota I grew up in had a whole lot of dudes who were clearly using bikes to compensate for the lack of something. They instilled in me a dislike of bikes and bikers that caused me to over-generalise and oversimplify motorcycle riding.

↧

Oh, uhm, Merry Christmas, by the way

December 29, 2013, 12:34 pm

≫ Next: Gear review: Corcoran Jump Boots

≪ Previous: The strange and sudden decline of RideApart

Sunset on Bodmin Moor.

Things on the ol' blog have been relatively quiet these past several days because Jenn and I were out in the wilds of Cornwall. Which is about as wild as one can get in the overpopulated mess of southwestern England. We were staying in a cottage on Bodmin Moor, the bleak nowhere made famous by Daphne du Maurier's novel Jamaica Inn. The roads were only wide enough for a single car and mobile phone signal was non-existant.

It was only when we were out hiking the tors (craggy rocks that serve as promontories on the moors) did my phone grasp just enough signal to alert me to comments on my previous post about the downfall of RideApart. I genuinely appreciate the fact that Wes took the time to leave a comment, even if it was snarky and insulting. Be valuable, indeed.

Perhaps it was for the best that signal was too scarce for me to reply. At the time I had a fair few snarky and insulting things I wanted to say in response but now, meh, I don't care. I feel morally superior enough in the fact that, whereas Wes deleted my criticisms from RideApart, I stood atop a tor in gale force winds waving my phone about to ensure he got his chance to insult me. And we'll leave it at that.

Cornwall was beautiful and restorative, and its tiny, badly maintained roads had me again thinking my next bike should be a V-Strom or some other machine with really good suspension. But more importantly, I've come back from Cornwall feeling inspired. Being out there away from the internets and the everyday reinforced my desire to explore –– to get out and see whatever there may be to see.

Looking forward to the year ahead, I am already planning at least one big trip. In March or April, I'm not yet sure, I'm hoping to ride up to North Wales, take the ferry over to Dublin and thereafter do a wee explore of Ireland. In May, if everything works out, I'd like to ride up to the Lake District for a weekend.

The goal is to push myself in 2014, to extend my boundaries, to move out of my little comfort zones. I think it's going to be a good year.

↧

Gear review: Corcoran Jump Boots

January 3, 2014, 1:20 pm

≫ Next: Weighing the options: Middleweight sport tourers

≪ Previous: Oh, uhm, Merry Christmas, by the way

Corcoran Jump Boots

I think I may daydream about motorcycle gear almost as much as I do about motorcycles. That's sort of the thing about motorcycling: it gets into the blood and soon you find yourself wishing you could have All The Bikes; then, you find yourself pining for All The Things Related To Bikes.

When it comes to clothing, I suppose the bulk of my attention goes toward jackets. I'd like several different types, to suit different moods and different weather conditions. One of my long-term goals is to save up enough money to one day buy a Vanson AR3 –– the fabled, yet-to-be-released armoured version of the Vanson AR2. Or, an Aero Cafe Racer; made of horsehide, I reckon those things are pretty much indestructible (a).

After that, my attention turns to gloves, trousers, helmets, various bits and bobs like scarves and base layers, then, finally, boots. The reason boots always come last is that I can't really imagine finding a pair particularly better than those I already have.

The boots in question are a pair of Corcoran Jump Boots, which my parents bought me for my birthday. My birthday was back in March, so I've been wearing these boots in all weathers for almost a full year. It speaks to their incredible durability that I only now feel I'm really starting to break them in.

Sturdy and no frills, the thick-leather boots were designed for use by U.S. paratroopers in World War II. That means they have strong ankle and arch support. So much so, in fact, that walking can be a little awkward in them for the first several months. The leather is particularly thick, about 3.5 mm by my measurement –– considerably more than the 1.5 mm of thickness you'll find on a Vanson jacket. In other words, this boot is built to last, and the overall toughness and bad-assitude of the the thing is such that you feel it could easily double as a weapon.

Seriously, these boots alone are probably the reason we beat the Nazis.

But as hardcore as they are, I find them surprisingly comfortable. Well, you know, surprisingly comfortable for their purpose; I wouldn't play basketball in them. They fit well to my feet and accommodate all different kinds of sock thickness, depending on the weather. I find that I am able to wear them all day without complaint.

I should probably offer the caveat of acknowledging that I am able to contend with hot feet better than some people I know (I used to hike the San Diego County sections of the Pacific Crest Trail in summer wearing wool socks), but having said that, I have never really found these boots to be too warm. Even on the day I got so hot I stripped off my clothes and threw myself in the River Wye, it was not the boots that were bothering me. On the far-more-common-in-Britain opposite end of the temperature gauge, I've found that, when paired with a decent pair of wool socks, my feet never really get cold in these boots, either.

They stand up well against the wet, as well. In a ride in October the nonstop rain soaked through my pants and my gloves and parts of my jacket, but my feet were fine. This was despite the fact I've not yet bothered to put any Nikwax into the boots.

In terms of appearance, I like the fact that Corcoran boots look like, you know, boots. That is to say, boots a normal person would wear. I've never been terribly hot on the idea of getting dressed up like a Power Ranger to go riding, and instead prefer gear more subtle in look. If I'm simply riding around town, these boots look normal enough with a pair of jeans that I can walk into a café or pub without physically announcing myself as a motorcyclist (though, admittedly, the helmet and armoured leather jacket probably do that anyway). Sure, they're only as stylish as combat boots can be, but I'll choose that any day over footwear that looks like it was designed for 8-year-olds.

Lastly, and somewhat important to me, Corcoran boots are made in the United States, in Pennsylvania.

They are almost the perfect boot.

A year of rain, dirt, oil and mud, and
you can still see a little bit of shine on these.

I say almost because I have had two minor complaints. The first issue is that they were really shiny when I first got them. Shiny like patent leather. I suppose that's nice if you're military personnel trying to keep up appearances, or wearing these boots to your high school prom, but it can feel just a little silly when you're trying to go for an understated look on your motorcycle. Especially if, like me at the time I first got them, you are a newbie: nothing screams "NEWBIE" like shiny new gear. Fortunately, I was able to fix all this by spending a year splashing about in puddles and never washing or waxing the boots. These days, I think they look just about right.

The other problem I had, particular to the version of boot I got (stock No. 975), was its sole. It was utterly useless on just about any wet surface. Indeed, I feel the boots' super-slippery-slick-when-wet soles shoulder a fair amount of the blame for the second time I dropped Aliona. But I have recently fixed this problem by having new, grippy soles put on. And in looking at the Corcoran website there are apparently versions of the boot with different soles.

So, all in all, damned good boots. So good, in fact, that there isn't really any other boot I'd want instead. And unlike any other boots I might like, the Corcorans only cost about $130.

–––––––––

(a)The jackets are so tough that the suggested method of breaking them in is to put yours on, submerge yourself in water, then wear it until it dries! These are jackets that you pass down to consecutive generations. Indeed, one of the things that I often think about when wishing for an Aero jacket is that I don't have any children to give it to, and as such I fear the jacket wouldn't get enough use in my single lifetime!

↧

Weighing the options: Middleweight sport tourers

January 9, 2014, 1:06 pm

≫ Next: Checking the mirrors

≪ Previous: Gear review: Corcoran Jump Boots

Technically, the Honda CBF600SA is a sport tourer.

Not too long ago I started the process of thinking seriously about my next bike, which, at this stage, consists of little more than saving money (a) and daydreaming constantly about what that next bike will be.

Because I'm an American, my default setting, it seems, is to daydream about cruisers; the post linked to above focuses on the Triumph Speedmaster, Harley-Davidson 72, and Victory Judge. But as happened before I got Aliona, the more I think about it, the more practical concerns like safety and performance and comfort start to creep into my thoughts.

The other day, fellow moto-blogger Sash offhandedly mentioned in a Google+ conversation that she is likely to return to a sportbike for her next machine. And I found myself thinking: "Yeah, I'll probably end up choosing something non-cruiser as well."

Because the thing is: although cruisers definitely have the benefit of long-term aesthetics –– you can take a picture of yourself on your cruiser and 50 years from now your grandkids will say: "Look how cool Grandad was!" as opposed to taking a picture of yourself on a sportbike and having those same grandchildren say: "Tee-hee! I'll bet Grandad thought he was cool!"–– they tend to fall short when it comes to overall riding experience. And although my experience with cruisers is admittedly quite limited, I found that when I rode the Harley-Davidson XL883 and the XL1200 my back hurt, and I hated the excessive windblast.

So, I have been looking at my beloved CBF600SA and thinking: "Actually, you're a damned good bike."

Especially since reading an article on RideApart (I know; I can't stay away) that noted: "If you’re unable to make a 600 go fast, you need riding lessons, not a bigger, more difficult bike to ride." Additionally, the article made the point that the overwhelming majority of riders will never put the capabilities of their bike to full use. If I'm honest with myself, I fall into that group.

With the exception of accidentally learning anti-lock brakes are really useful, I've never ridden anywhere close to the way my bike could be ridden. And even in the ultra-safe and precious way I have ridden, the bike has proven up to the task in all cases. It handles tiny lanes and motorways and everything in between with ease –– even when carrying both Jenn, myself and luggage.

As such, when thinking about the sport-like machine I'd like as my next bike, it occurs to me that the engine need not be excessively large. Which brings me, finally, to the point of this post: middleweight sport tourers.

For the sake of argument, let's define "middleweight" as being 600cc-1100cc. And we'll define a "sport tourer" as being like a sportbike –– agile and quick –– but with a more relaxed, upright riding position. Additionally, we'll say a sport tourer must have fairing. Thus we can save discussion of bikes like the Suzuki V-Strom and Honda NC750X for another day.

I've been looking at all kinds of offerings –– some seriously and some not so seriously –– and here's what I've found, going from smallest engine to largest:

Yamaha XJ6 Diversion F

Yamaha XJ6 Diversion F

Price: £6,699

Basic stats: 600cc, 77bhp

About: The XJ6 Diversion is essentially Yamaha's variant of the Honda CBF600, the bike I have presently. It is part of a class frequently awarded backhanded compliments like "reliable" and "nonthreatening." Though it has fairing and ABS, it does not come with much else. It has no features, technological or aesthetic, to make it really stand out and make me think: "Ooooh! Me want."

Would I seriously consider buying one? No. Having seen this bike in a showroom I know that it is tiny and wouldn't accommodate my 6-foot-1 frame. To that end, the passenger seat is virtually non-existent. And, overall, it looks cheap. I'm sure it's a fine all-rounder but I think it would actually be a step down from my present bike.

Suzuki GSX650F

Price: £6,685

Basic stats: 600cc, 83bhp

About: More powerful and less expensive than the aforementioned Yamaha, the GSX650F is another bike that has one and a half feet solidly placed in the durable all-rounder category. Apart from its particularly agreeable price, it has little to make it stand out enough that I'd want it more than my existing machine. Though, in fairness, its seat is more accommodating of a passenger than the Yamaha's.

Would I buy one? No. I know Suzukis have a great reputation for reliability and so on, but I really don't like the look of this bike. It looks like two different bikes that have been sloppily glued together.

Yamaha Fazer8
Price: £7,999

Basic stats: 800cc, 104bhp
About: Yamaha's own spin on this bike is to say: "If you could only ever own one bike, the Fazer8 would be top of the list." Certainly it's got a hell of a lot more power than Aliona, but really it's a vehicle that still tends to fall a little too heavily into the aforementioned "durable all-rounder" category, which is generally motorcycle code for "dull." I suppose, though, with some extensive aftermarket work you could turn it into a solid sport tourer. And, in fairness, with all but one of the bikes on this list (the Triumph), a certain amount of extra money would be required to ensure the "tourer" bit of "sport tourer."
Would I buy one? Probably not. If memory serves me, this bike is shorter than the XJ6 Diversion and, again, the passenger accommodations are wanting. Also, I'm not hot on the half fairing. There are aftermarket kits that can turn the Fazer8 into a fully-faired machine, but at that point you are running too far away from the Fazer's attractive price.

BMW F800GT

BMW F800GT

Price: £8,175

Basic stats: 800cc, 90bhp

About: You can see where Motus got their inspiration, can't you? Looking at this bike is what got me started on this post in the first place. I find it a strange bike in the sense that the more I look at it the more I like the way it looks. The bike has the whole BMW legacy thing going for it, it's belt-driven, and there are a number of extras (for a price, of course), like traction control, which make it a top choice amongst the reviews I've read. Motorcycle USA editor Adam Waheed is 6 feet tall and has a similar lankiness to myself; his long-term review of the F800GT makes no mention of being cramped, so I'm assuming I'd get along alright. There appears to be plenty of space for Jenn, too, and I'm certain the engine would deliver plenty of power to haul us both around with ease. A reviewer for Motorcycle News rode the F800GT from Petersborough, England to Germany and mentioned at one point that he was "cruising comfortably" on the Autobahn at just over 100 mph.
Would I buy one? Yes. OK, I will admit that to a certain extent I am falling for the aura of BMW here. It's a bit like the Harley-Davidson thing, where you're not just buying a motorcycle but also an idea of a motorcycle, and with it some sort of contorted, market-tested reflection of the motorcyclist you'd like to be. Admittedly, I may not want to associate myself with that idea; I can't help but notice that BMW guys don't tend to nod/wave when I pass. But there is also the simple fact that BMWs have a strong reputation for quality, reliability and rider experience.

Honda VFR800F

Honda VFR800F

Price: ??
Basic stats: 800cc, 105bhp
About: Having just said I'd fork out money for the "reliability" of a BMW, it's worth noting that Honda and other Japanese OEMs actually have a better track record than BMW, according to an article in Consumer Reports last year. And I'll admit that the very first name that comes to my mind when I think of reliable machines is Honda. In my (limited) experience, Hondas are solid. Even the ones that were used by my training school, bikes I had seen dropped multiple times, were durable motherhuggers. Which is exactly the sort of thing you want in a bike when you plan to go awander. The VFR, of course, is the bike for which the sport tourer term was coined and it has consistently won almost religious praise from its owners for nigh 30 years. The 800cc version was dropped from the roster not too long ago to make room for the larger VFR1200, but is now set to return with a new look and, presumably, a new set of bells and whistles. The bike is not out yet, so there are still a lot of unknowns –– one of the biggest ones being the price –– but traction control will apparently come standard.
Would I buy one? Yes. This bike has a hell of an engine and a tank that looks like an aroused clitoris. How can you not want that? Overall, it has a look that grows on you, a hell of a good reputation, and appears to have plenty of space for a passenger. In my eyes, the whole thing is a win. My only sticking point would be the price, which has not yet been announced. If it goes above the £10,000 mark that will pretty much remove it from my list.

Honda CBF1000F

Price: £9,499
Basic stats: 1000cc, 106bhp

About: This is the modern, 1000cc-version of the bike I ride at the moment. So, I know it is comfortable, reliable, and suited to pretty much every task I put to it. I know there's plenty of room for Jenn. And I know that with heated grips, a taller windscreen, and some panniers, it could serve as a solid sport tourer. Meanwhile, the CBF1000F's engine obviously delivers a fair bit more kick than my 600, as well as newer technology (Aliona is 9 years old). It also has just a tiny bit more fairing, though it is still technically half-faired.
Would I buy one? Probably not. I'm very happy to be monogamous with Jenn but I feel life is too short to stick faithfully to the same motorcycle model. Plus, that price seems just a little too high, considering more money would need to be invested for touring accoutrements.

Yamaha FZ1 Fazer
Price: £9,799

Basic stats: 1000cc, 150bhp

About: Exactly like the Fazer8, but with a bigger engine and a shedload more power.
Would I buy one? No. Considering that I would never use all that power, and am already quite lukewarm on the Fazer8, why would I pay even more money for such a bike?

Kawasaki Z1000SX Tourer
Price: £10,499
Basic stats: 1000cc, 140bhp
About: The touring version of the best-selling Kawasaki in the United Kingdom, it's just a Z1000SX with panniers. Other touring items remain pay-extra options. Here in blighty, where balding, leather-onesie-wearing, bacon-sandwich-loving males dominate the riding scene with endless talk about the sportbike they rode in the 1980s, the Z1000SX has gone down a storm. Journalists from MCN, VisorDown and the Telegraph have all sung its praises. Despite the love from old men, however, it offers all the modern amenities, including traction control.
Would I buy one? No. Look, I'm not entirely sure why, but I am so against this bike that I feel tired. Perhaps it's Kawasaki's website that puts me off, the way all the models are in that kryptonite green and every goddamned photo has been run through the extreme HDR filter. Whatever it is, there's just something I outright hate about these bikes. Motorcycling is an emotional thing at times, so I can't really explain. In terms of rational criticism, however, the Z1000SX seems a little more sportbike than sport tourer, reviews have said there is almost no room for a passenger, and it looks tiny (check out how huge the rider appears to be in this promotional photo).

Triumph Sprint GT SE

Triumph Sprint GT SE
Price: £8,999
Basic stats: 1050cc, 130bhp
About: The only bike on this list with a load of touring gear (panniers, top box, heated grips, touring screen and gel seat) as standard, more affordable than the other litre bikes, and it's a Triumph. Though Britons aren't nearly so patriotic as their American cousins, the Triumph name still means something on this island of rain. Roll up on one and it will earn you an automatic modicum of respect from all the leather boys. Indeed, I've noticed that, in Southwest England particularly, it is common for said blokes to place themselves in a highly visible area –– in front of a supermarket, for example –– and just sit on their Triumphs for inexplicably long periods of time. The only triple engine bike on the list, the Sprint has gotten all kinds of love from reviewers and riders over the years. And the suspension is said to be designed for substandard British roads.
Would I buy one? Yes. Though, a quick glance at the ever-useful motorcycle ergonomics simulator shows quite a lot of forward lean and bent legs. I watched a review of the Sprint GT on YouTube recently and the 6-foot-3 test rider had to splay his knees on either side of the fairing. However, in the comments another person claimed to be 6-foot-2 and said he had no complaints, so (as with all the bikes, I suppose) a rather extensive test ride would be needed before I handed over my money.

A few other things to ponder:

The Suzuki GSX1250FA has a middleweight price –– just £7,865. So, I'd probably check that one out, as well. A quick Google search delivers some positive reviews.
At present, Honda seems to have dropped the ultra-reliable Honda Deauville. It's possible that bike is gone for good, or perhaps there are plans to give it a makeover and reintroduce it in the not-too-distant future, as was done with the VFR. If so, it would be a serious contender, despite its fugly looks.
Though, admittedly, none of these bikes really rock my world aesthetically. I showed some of these bikes to Jenn and she said: "Hmm"
I really didn't need to run through every possible bike, did I? I could have saved everyone a lot of time and simply reduced the list to three, as I did when discussing cruisers. Sorry.

__________

(a)Present savings: £70.18.

↧

Checking the mirrors

January 13, 2014, 10:47 pm

≫ Next: Endurance

≪ Previous: Weighing the options: Middleweight sport tourers

Today marks the 1-year anniversary of this blog. Only one year, mis amigos. Wow.

In many ways it feels as I have been doing this for longer, because so much has happened in that year. And in another sense, because I am so obsessed with motorcycling, and love talking about it so much, it feels I haven't been doing it nearly so long.

I started this blog on 14 January 2013 because I was so consumed with thoughts of motorcycles and motorcycling I could no longer hold it inside. I had no one with whom I could share my passion (a), so I created this blog as a sort of mental dumping ground. Without it, I felt, I might go mad. As I said at the time: "If I felt this way toward a girl there would be incrimination; restraining orders would be issued. People would look at me with their best serious faces, speak in their best concerned tones and say: 'Chris, you are sick. Very, very sick. You need to get help.'"

The blog wasn't intended to be more than a little internet corner in which I could mumble to myself. I didn't imagine many people would read the thing, and I had no idea it would ultimately serve a major role in my finally fulfilling an 18-year-long ambition.

Exactly one year ago, I was 36 years old. I did not have a UK motorcycle license. I did not have a motorcycle. I had not ridden a bike since earning my Minnesota motorcycle endorsement in a YMCA parking lot in 1994. And my wife of just two months was less than enthusiastic about any talk of my changing the status quo. After all, we were drowning financially, we did not have a car, and I hadn't yet even bothered to get my UK driver's license (b). On the face of it, a motorcycle seemed impractical.

Today, I have both my UK motorcycle and driving license (c), and a bike. And in some small way I feel my marriage is stronger because achieving those things has shown my wife I am capable of not just having a big idea, but also making it happen. My life is quantifiably better. And this blog has played a major role in making it such.

One of the most obvious ways it has done so is by introducing me to you, the people who read. Thank you. Your advice and encouragement has been invaluable.

When I first started on this particular journey I knew just two people with an interest in motorcycles. However, both of them –– my brother and Lucky–– were (and are) living thousands of miles away in Minnesota. No one in my immediate circles had a bike, and, to my knowledge at the time (d), no one had even a passing interest in the machines. There is no bike scene to speak of in South Wales beyond a handful of casually racist middle-aged dudes in unflattering leather suits who like to hang out at roadside cafes on summer weekends. So, without you I would have felt alone and probably given up. Your reading and commenting and interaction has helped me to feel connected to the wider world.

The second most obvious way in which this blog has helped me is that it made me visible to the good people of Loan.co.uk, who saw a certain talent in my writing and offered to buy me a motorcycle in exchange for a bit of hard work on their website. In so doing, they changed my life, and I am endlessly thankful.

There have been all kinds of other highs and lows along the way; I've done my best to document them all. Here, though, are the standout moments from each of the months of 2013:

––– JANUARY: I was just finding my feet at this point, ordering all the jumping emotions in my brain into thoughts and ideas to be written. In so doing, and without realising it, I was giving shape to a desire that was hitherto too nebulous to really be acted upon. There's a lesson to be learned from this: if you want to do something, take the time to think how you will do it. Work out all the challenges and what you need to do to overcome these challenges. Then you can begin to focus on making the thing real. Of course, it also helps to have inspiration. And it was in January that I stumbled across a little YouTube video that gets me excited about motorcycles every time I see it.

––– FEBRUARY: With my motorcycle obsession beginning to take shape I, somewhat impulsively, signed myself up to do a CBT course. Short for Compulsory Basic Training, the CBT is the first of myriad steps toward earning one's UK motorcycle license. As a sort of guarantee against backing out, I surreptitiously bought myself a helmet. Because I didn't want to get in trouble, I hid the helmet from my wife, thereby causing myself several months of needless anxiety until its eventual discovery.

With a fellow student, the day I passed my Mod 1

––– MARCH: By and large, the month that contains my birthday and Texas Independence Day was one of triumph. Having earned my CBT the month before, I now succeeded in passing the theory and hazard exams, as well as the Module 1 exam. There are effectively five hoops one must jump through to get a motorcycle license in the United Kingdom (more if you are under the age of 24) and by the final days of March I had made it through four of those hoops without too much stress. I was nervous about the final hoop but felt relatively certain that, as with the others, I would succeed on the first attempt. I was wrong.

––– APRIL: Technically, I failed my first attempt at the Module 2 exam on 26 March, but the devastating emotional impact of that failure lasted well into the fourth month and beyond. That was a terrible day. With the benefit of hindsight, I can say there were a lot of uncontrollable variables working against me –– specifically, the weather and the presence of an examiner who was shockingly unprofessional –– and I can tell myself that, really, that attempt shouldn't be a part of the mental record. Like, you know, if a piano fell on Usain Bolt while he was running you wouldn't really hold it against him that he didn't finish the race. But self anger is a terrible beast, and the experience corroded me from within. Things got worse and worse, to the point that I started to hate the motorcycle training sessions I was taking. When I failed the Mod 2 a second time, I plummeted into depression.

––– MAY: I managed to pull myself together in part because a number of you were so kind as to comment or even drop me an email of support. I appreciate the hell out of that. I was able to build myself up and, on a sunny and warm (by UK standards) afternoon, finally managed to pass the Mod 2 exam. Again, with the benefit of hindsight, I have quite a lot of critical things to say about the whole process, both in terms of training and examination, but the positive to take away from it is that I now had my UK motorcycle license. It felt something of a hollow victory, however, because I couldn't put my newly earned license to use: I didn't have a bike nor the means to get one.

––– JUNE: Things didn't stay that way for long. Off the back of a post I wrote about the Harley-Davidson Iron 883 the folks at Loan.co.uk got in touch in May and put me to work. I'll admit to having always been suspicious as to whether the work would actually result in anything, but they proved to be better than their word and early in the sixth month I travelled to Cheltenham to collect my first motorcycle –– an experience so immense to me that I broke it into two posts. Here's Part I and here's Part II. It took me weeks to properly accept the whole thing had actually happened, and even to this day I feel as if I am lying when I tell the story.

––– JULY: The summer of 2013 was an odd one for Britain because it produced weather that was actually summery. Usually, summer in Britain is more a state of mind than a climatological condition; people just think it's summer and dress as such, but in truth the temperatures remain what they were in spring and will be in autumn. Not so in 2013. It was hot. And having a motorcycle allowed Jenn and me to properly enjoy it. In July we took our first of many short summer-day jaunts, a ride to Hay-on-Wye, where we ended up skinny dipping and being ogled by a youth group.

––– AUGUST: Jenn's initial resistance to my idea of a motorcycle had long since disappeared by the time summer hit, but our frequent trips to picturesque villages and the beach and so on helped to concrete her love for the bike. These excursions also helped me to slowly build up the experiences that make one a better rider. Of course, experiences are positives and negatives, and it was in this month I got to experience the utter embarrassment of dropping my bike for the first time. Fortunately, the damage was very minor and I learned to be a little more cautious in choosing where to place the bike.

––– SEPTEMBER: Things began to quiet down in the ninth month of 2013. The weather turned a little more British and trips to the beach reduced. I started what is now my winter routine of trying to get in at least one ride a week. Often these rides were taken on my own and that allowed me more opportunity to think about my riding. So, in addition to making sure I was getting out, I also started making sure that I regularly practice the basics.

––– OCTOBER: With the days growing ever shorter and wetter I took my first overnight road trip on the bike. I learned some valuable lessons about timing, planning and accepting the zen of being really, really, really wet and cold. Despite the extreme physical misery, and the frustration of dropping the bike again, this solo trip to North Wales easily stands out as one of the highlights of my year. As soon as I got back I started dreaming of future rides.

––– NOVEMBER: As I write this, it is pissing down rain and the wind is throwing things around on the road. It feels as if it has been doing this forever, but I know that, in truth, it has only been doing it since November. Which is normal for Wales. That weather makes pleasure riding somewhat difficult, so most of my rides in the penultimate month of 2013 were jaunts so short they weren't worth mentioning. But there was one beautiful, heartwarming day in which I rode out to a National Trust property just north of Bath. Dyrham Park has deep personal meaning to me and being there helped to remind me that, yes, I do actually like Britain –– an important reminder at a time of year when homesickness affects me most.

––– DECEMBER: And that brings us pretty much up to the present tense. Whereas I am today celebrating one year of this blog, it was in the final month of 2013 that I celebrated six months of having a motorcycle with a look at some of the things I had learned so far. Again, it is hard to believe that so much has happened in so little time.

Looking back on the first year of this blog, one thing stands out to me: I am incredibly fortunate. And looking ahead to 2014 and the blog's second year, I am excited to see what will happen. As I say, I am formulating certain road trips in my mind, but motorcycling has taught me that there are often far more interesting things –– things I have not yet imagined –– just around the next corner. I look forward to seeing what adventures the journey brings.

–––––––––

(a)"Passion" has to be one of the most overused words of the 2010s; I apologise for using it but couldn't think of something better.

(b) I had my U.S. driver's license, but if one is a resident of the United Kingdom for more than a year, one is supposed to get a UK license. I had at that point been living in the United Kingdom for 6.5 years.

(c) For those of you playing along elsewhere, they are separate things in the United Kingdom and can exist independently of one another. As opposed to the situation in Minnesota and most U.S. states, where one must first possess a driving license.

(d) After finally getting a motorcycle I discovered that most guys and even a few gals carry a latent desire to get a bike.

↧

Endurance

January 16, 2014, 2:04 am

≫ Next: Tall in the saddle: Middleweight 'adventure' motorcycles

≪ Previous: Checking the mirrors


Elspeth Beard rode a beat-up BMW around the world.

In addition to daydreaming about which motorcycle I'd like next, one of my favourite things to do when stuck indoors is stare at a map and imagine the places I could go.

The obsession from which this blog gets its title is one borne of a desire to see more of the world around me. I have lived in the United Kingdom for 7.5 years but I really haven't seen that much of it. I have never been to Scotland, for instance. Never to the eastern side of the island of Great Britain. Never to Northern Ireland. Never to Manchester, Liverpool, York, or Newcastle. Until this past Christmas, I had never been to Cornwall. Most of what I have seen and experienced on this side of the Atlantic Ocean exists within 30 miles of the M4 –– the 190-mile-long motorway running from South Wales to London.

Part of the reason for that has been lack of adequate transportation. There was a space of time there when I had a 1995 Peugeot 306, but I didn't trust the thing. This mistrust proved to be well-founded when the brakes gave out on the aforementioned motorway and I ended up having to use the rear end of a Ford Focus to stop myself. Afterward, I bought an even worse car, sold it three months later and thereafter went without.

But there has been, too, my tendency to build up fears and anxieties of the unknown. I have an amazing ability to get worked up about nothing. The whole motorcycle thing was (and is) an attempt to overcome both the above issues: i.e., lack of means of exploring, and lack of the proper will to do so.

(That's not to say I've ever lacked the desire to explore/wander. But there is a difference between having the desire to do something and having the will to do it. I could digress into a discussion of how I honestly feel the oppressive negativity of most Welsh people's thinking has infected my own and made me a lesser person, but I won't go into it except to say that after living here for a while I started to lose my will to explore.)

Now that I have a bike and am getting to the stage where I am (slowly) growing more confident in my riding ability, my mind turns ever more to the issue of where to ride. The list of places I've yet to explore in this rainy archipelago is so long I have trouble choosing. Where to go? What to see? What to do?

In 1929 Vivian Bales rode 5,000 solo miles in 78 days.

And as I ponder these questions one thing stands in my mind as a possible obstacle: endurance.

So far, the most I've ridden in a single day has been 220 miles. It was an all-day affair, broken up by no less than six stops, and I almost crashed toward the end. Since then, I've rarely ridden more than 150 miles in a single day, and again, these journeys are broken up by an incredible number of breaks.

Consider, for instance, the fact that it is just 90 miles from Aberdare, Wales, to Pennant, Wales. When I covered that distance back in October it took me 4.5 hours to do so. OK, yes, it was rainy and I wasn't well-equipped for the cold and I stopped for a long lunch and I was riding down comically narrow lanes for a certain part of the trip, but still. That's an average of 20 miles an hour!

There is no way I'd be able to take off enough time from work that I could travel up to Scotland and back if I were only covering 20 miles an hour!

To that end, a trip to Scotland would inevitably require a certain amount of motorway riding (motorways are like interstates, for those of you playing along at home). Because the lesser roads in the United Kingdom are, indeed, lesser roads.

It is not like the United States where there is a large network of good-quality roads that simply have lower speed limits and less traffic. Such as in Texas, where you can get from Dallas to Houston either by the I-45, or via a combination of U.S., state, and farm-to-market highways, and in both cases be relatively assured of good road surface. In Her Majesty Elizabeth II's United Kingdom, back roads are small, they are badly maintained, and they tend to wind illogically through every possible village and town.

All of this leads to a need to increase my endurance: the distance I can go overall, and the distance I can go without breaks. It's admittedly a hard thing to work on in winter because the opportunities to get out are less, daylight hours are fewer, and cold weather naturally forces more breaks upon even the toughest of riders. But I am trying.

This past Saturday, for instance, I was very pleased with myself for making it from Gloucester to Penarth without a stop. That's 65 miles, most of it on the motorway, and the temperature was 3ºC (37ºF). Account for the windchill factor (I was going about 90 mph [a] most of the way) and it was a cold ride home –– my visor frosted up on the edges. But I did it without much negative effect. Though, I doubt I could have gone more than an additional 5 miles without a break. And even with a break, I'm not sure I could have handled more than 30 additional miles to the day's total.

In total on Saturday, I rode 140 miles, and I was quite tired at the end of it. With that sort of daily mileage, just making it to the Scottish border would demand a midpoint stop –– meaning I'd get to spend one evening of my precious time off living it up in a Travelodge in some gloriously insignificant town like Ashby-de-la-Zouch.

Steve and Tina spent much of 2013 riding all over the United States.

I realise that the main thing I need to do to increase endurance is simply ride as much as I can. But I'm also investing in a few modifications I hope will help make the ride easier/more comfortable. Chief among these are heated grips. My father bought me some for Christmas, and I'm going to have them put on in the next week or so. Additionally, as I write this, I am waiting for the delivery of a new, taller windscreen. It will only add 12cm (4.7 inches) of height, but, as they say in these parts, every little helps.

My hope is that the combination of these two things will result in my not getting so cold so quickly. It's hard to go very far when your teeth are chattering.

Beyond that, though, I'm not too sure what to do. So, I'm turning it over to you: what else can I do to increase my time in the saddle? What are tricks you use to stay comfortable and alert for long rides? I'd love to know.

__________

(a)If you are a member of Gloucestershire Constabulary, Avon & Somerset Constabulary, Gwent Police, or South Wales Police, please note that this is a lie told for storytelling purposes only. I never ride above the speed limit.

↧

Tall in the saddle: Middleweight 'adventure' motorcycles

January 20, 2014, 12:00 am

≫ Next: Robert Pirsig was right

≪ Previous: Endurance

My favourites in previous categories.

Let's not go any further before we tackle the issue of the word "adventure." When discussing adventure machines, it's ridiculous. Adventure bikes are the SUVs of motorcycling. Indeed, just as it is common to turn the phrase "sport utility vehicle" into an acronym it is equally popular to refer to these motorcycles as ADVs. And in both cases, the name is value weighted. That is to say, you are expected to think of additional things that aren't actually promised. Specifically, the phrase that's supposed to come to mind is "off road."

But are these things actually intended to go off road? Nope. Not really. Which is fine, because the simple truth is that the majority of cases neither vehicle will ever see more dirt than that found on a well-maintained farm road. People buy them not for the sake of competing in the Dakar Rally but because they are comfortable and they look durable.

Plus, adventure is what you make it. Hell, a Lexmoto Vixen could be an adventure bike, depending on how, exactly, you are choosing to define "adventure."

Anyhoo, over the past few weeks I've been enjoying the process of thinking seriously about which machine I'll choose as my next. So far, I've looked at cruisers and sport tourers, and in both cases I've been hit with comments along the lines of: "Chris, what you really want is [NAME OF ADVENTURE BIKE GOES HERE]."

Certainly I can see the argument for it. Generally equipped with taller seats, ADVs are likely to be better suited to my 6-foot-1 frame than, say, a Suzuki Van-Van. And the seating position is more in line with what I prefer: upright and not too bendy. The bikes are said to be comfortable and very much fit for purpose if a person is keen to take on long-distance rides. And they quite often come standard-equipped with the sort of "extras" that I find incredibly important, such as anti-lock brakes, a centre stand, heated grips and tall windscreens.

On paper, an adventure bike sounds like my ideal machine. But, oh my great googly moogly, are they uncool. I mean, so, so, so uncool. They sound uncool. The look uncool. And the accepted truth of them is that you are even supposed to dress uncool when riding them. It's as if a team of the greatest thinkers of our day were assembled and given the task of taking every single ounce of sexy out of motorcycling. They succeeded.

I have immense respect for the ADV riders I've encountered, and I know there are a handful that read this blog regularly. If it makes y'all feel better, I tend to pay more attention to the advice that comes from you than that delivered by other types of riders. I'm just not sure I want to join your legions yet.

But, if there's one thing I've learned about myself it's that practicality usually wins out over my desire to be cool. So, it's good to explore my options. As with sport tourers, I've decided to limit my options to middleweight machines, and I'm choosing to define "middleweight" as: between 600 cc and 1100 cc.

Suzuki V-Strom 650

Suzuki V-Strom 650
Price: £6,899
Basic stats: 649 cc, 68 bhp
About: This is a fabled machine. I'm pretty sure they're singing folk songs about it in the hills of some faraway place. You will struggle to find too many people with anything negative to say about the V-Strom, beyond my own personal feeling that it's not sexy. But, hey, rugged can be sexy. The old Hell for Leather website (R.I.P) once described the V-Strom as one of the very best motorcycles for carrying a passenger, and because I've seen V-Stroms kicking my ass on the motorway I know it it handles well there, too.
Would I buy it? Yes. It's tough, it's powerful, it does everything, and it seems to win the love and respect of everyone. Suzuki offers multiple packages for the V-Strom and although the version of the bike that I would want would cost about £1,000 more than the base price, that still puts it in at under £8,000 –– cheaper than all but one (a) of the cruisers and sport tourers I like.

Kawasaki Versys 650
Price: £6,649
Basic stats: 649 cc, 60 bhp
About: The Versys 650 seems like an "Oh, we have one of those, too," sort of bike for the Kawasaki stable. It's just sort of there. I've seen one in person and certainly liked the height, but it didn't strike me as a machine that would be particularly comfortable for Jenn to be on with me. Reviews I've read have been pretty mixed, with the only real consistency being that it's not fantastic at high speeds. If you ride motorways in the United Kingdom, you need a machine that can cruise at well above the 70 mph "limit."
Would I buy it? No. It costs more than the far superior Honda NC750X and I sense it would be a step down from my existing bike.

Yamaha Ténéré
Price: £6,999
Basic stats: 660 cc, 46 bhp
About: A famed workhorse of a machine, the hard-to-write Ténéré is probably the best machine on this list for doing what is implied in the looks of all the others: going where roads are scarce or nonexistent. People actually do use this thing (or, well, a version of it) to compete in the Dakar Rally. The downside is that on the road it struggles to keep pace with all those bikes that would eat its dust offroad. According to reviews, getting the bike above 70 mph is a challenging and unpleasant experience.
Would I buy it? No. It is not fit for purpose in ultra-urban Britain. I'll keep the Ténéré in mind should I ever move to Honduras.

Honda NC750X

Honda NC750X

Price: £6,299

Basic stats: 750 cc, 54 bhp

About: An oh-so-slightly larger version of the much-accoladed NC700X, this bike consistently earns motorcycle journalists' begrudging respect because it is so capable of doing so much. The only complaint they ever seem to have is that it is not a bike that is excessively thrilling. It is incredibly fuel-efficient, it has infinitely more storage space than any other motorcycle –– enough for a full-sized helmet –– and if you are so inclined, you can get one with an automatic transmission. It is also the most affordable of all the bikes in this list.

Would I buy it? Yes. This bike has shown up twice on my What I Want list. It's so damned practical that I find it almost impossible to resist. I have often thought about heading to my local Honda dealer to ask for a test ride but have a very real fear that I'd end up buying the thing right there and then.

Honda Crossrunner
Price: £9,499
Basic stats: 782 cc, 101 bhp
About: A VFR in ADV clothing, the Crossrunner has a reputation as being something of a "parts bin" machine, with numerous aspects being taken from other Honda models. That said, it gets a fair bit of respect. It is powerful, handles well and is all-day comfy. Though, it is a machine that serves as definite proof that "adventure" does not mean "offroad." Additionally, Honda have paid special attention to providing quality passenger seating.
Would I buy it? Maybe. The new VFR800F was one of my favourites from the sport tourer list, with my only real concern being whether it might feel too cramped for me. Voilà, the Crossrunner seems to solve that issue with its more upright seating position. However, although I realise that in producing 101 bhp it is a hell of a lot of bike, I still can't help feeling the price might be a tad too high. Additionally, the Crossrunner in person looks confusingly like the NC750X, which isn't necessarily a bad thing but leaves you frustrated that it doesn't have the storage space of the NC750X.

BMW F700 GS
Price: £7,680
Basic stats: 798 cc, 75 bhp
About: Bafflingly calling itself an F700, yet carrying an 800-cc engine, this machine is part of BMW's bread and butter. Thanks in part to Long Way Round, people tend to think of BMW as being the adventure-motorcycle company. Comfortable, easy-handling and compatible with an accessories catalog that only Harley-Davidson could rival, it is a surprisingly affordable prestige bike.
Would I buy it? Probably not. The base price is agreeable but you end up having to pay extra items that come standard on a lot of the other machines. I'll admit that I buy into the mystique of BMW somewhat, but less so for bikes with front ends that look like a robot Simpsons character having a stroke.

BMW F800 GS

BMW F800 GS
Price: £8,685
Basic stats: 798 cc, 85 bhp
About: Second verse pretty much same as the first. Except this time the name makes sense and it costs more. For that extra £1,000 you get 10 bhp and nothing else.
Would I buy it? No. See above and add £1,000. Then see below and wonder what, exactly, you're paying for in the BMW.

Triumph Tiger
Price: £8,099
Basic stats: 799 cc, 94 bhp
About: There seem to be about a dozen variations on the Tiger theme, but this one is the cheapest and most road-focused. Lauded by British journalists as a great all-round machine, it has a front end that looks like a mosquito with its proboscis ripped off. It also looks like something from an Erector Set, but the advantage to this is, I'm guessing, everything is relatively easy to access in terms of maintenance. As is the case with all Triumphs in the United Kingdom, it is certain to earn you a modicum of automatic respect from other riders and the occasional casual observer.
Would I buy it? Maybe. You know, to be honest, I hadn't really invested a lot of thought into the Tiger until just now. OK, yes it is ugly/stupid in terms of looks, but it certainly ticks all the other boxes. It is comparably powerful to the ~~VFR~~ Crossrunner but, if I understand the advantages of a triple, has more low-end grunt –– which, of course, is the thing I love about cruisers. Additionally, it is a solid £1,000 less than the Crossrunner. It also costs less than the BMW F800 GS whilst providing more power.

Suzuki V-Strom 1000
Price: £9,999
Basic stats: 1037 cc, 99 bhp
About: The big version of the V-Strom, it's another bike that's previously shown up on my What I Want list. In terms of what separates it from the 650 version of the V-Strom (aka the "Wee-Strom"), it has a fair bit more power from the engine, and you get traction control. Early reviews of the newly released machine are incredibly positive.
Would I buy it? Maybe. If I had a better-paying job, the answer would be a straight "yes." As things stand, however, at £10,000, I'd have to be strongly convinced that the larger V-Strom is really £3,000 more of a bike than its 650 cc little brother. Additionally, you'd have to prove to me that the Big Strom is also a lot better than the larger Kawasaki Versys.

Kawasaki Versys 1000

Kawasaki Versys 1000
Price: £9,599
Basic stats: 1043 cc, 116 bhp
About: It's a bit like the aforementioned Versys 650, but better. And with a bigger engine. And it is, indeed, a hell of an engine. Basically, you're getting the super Ninja in adventure form. Which means that the issue of motorway riding is completely resolved. It is said to handle well, can cruise comfortably at 100 mph, and has been the steed of choice for a number of those Ride A Motorcycle Around The World guys. Kawasaki claims to have invested a great deal of effort into making sure the passenger is comfortable, and the bike comes with a host of as-standard useful things like traction control, different power modes and, of course, ABS.
Would I buy it? Yes. All that fancy stuff takes the practical side of me to a happy enough place that it could override the feeling of uncoolness.

Triumph Tiger Sport
Price: £9,599
Basic stats: 1050 cc, 123 bhp
About: This is a bike that has been suggested to me by a number of people. Looking more like a Honda CBF1000 than an ADV bike, it is definitely a machine intended to be kept on civilised roads. Meanwhile it seems to get a tremendous amount of love from journalists.
Would I buy it? Probably not. Again, price is my main hang up here. It costs the same as the Versys but doesn't have as many of the features. Without such features, nigh £10,000 is more than I want to spend on a machine that I will never really fall in love with. It will never make me feel like a superhero.

Crow T. Robot

And that's the list. Out of all of the above, I think the machines that appeal to me the most are: Kawasaki Versys 1000, Suzuki V-Strom 650 and the NC750X. Indeed, if I stare at the Versys long enough, and sort of squint my eyes and make "vroom" noises and remind myself of the fact that I am already married to a super-hot woman and therefore have no need for a bike that could help me pick up chicks, I can sort of make myself like it. Though, I still feel that all adventure bikes look a little too much like Crow T. Robot from "Mystery Science Theater 3000."

Ever ridden any of these bikes? I'd love to hear about your experiences. Definitely let me know if you think I've gotten it all wrong in terms of the adventure class aura. Also, let me know if there are any bikes I've forgotten about.

–––––––––

(a)That one exception is the Triumph Speedmaster. At a base price of £7,199 it is £700 cheaper than a fully loaded V-Strom. But, of course, that's a real apples-and-oranges comparison because the Speedmaster has none of the fully loaded V-Strom's features. Indeed, I am only even considering the Speedmaster hypothetically, based on the fact that in 2016 all motorcycles in the UK will be required to have anti-lock brakes. A current Speedmaster lacks that basic feature, which I feel is 100-percent necessary for any bike I'd pay for.

↧

Robert Pirsig was right

January 23, 2014, 12:00 am

≫ Next: Gear review: Oxford HotGrips Premium Heated Grips

≪ Previous: Tall in the saddle: Middleweight 'adventure' motorcycles

John Sutherland and Robert Pirsig holding Chris Pirsig.

If you're in to motorcycles it's a good bet you've tried to force yourself to read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance at some point. And, if you're like me, your attention started to wane once the Sutherlands headed back to Minnesota. Partially because there is from that point increasingly less talk about motorcycles and partially because, deep down, I can relate more to John Sutherland than I can to Pirsig.

Well, at least where motorcycles are concerned. Because Sutherland, you'll remember, wasn't terribly interested in learning how to work on a motorcycle. This is why he spent so much money on a new BMW R60/2 (a). He wanted a machine he didn't have to fuss with, and he bought into the idea of BMWs as the most reliable of machines. Keen observers will note from my recent post about sport tourers that this is more or less the same reason the modern BMW F800GT sits amid the top three motorcycles I would most like to own.

I'd like to tell myself that I'm a little better than Pirsig makes Sutherland out to be. I clean and lube my bike's chain every 200 or so miles, I check the chain free play and adjust as needed, I do BOLT checks (b) before every ride, and so on and so on. I'm not at all averse to the idea of doing my own maintenance, I'm just not keen on actually doing it. I mean, from a romantic standpoint, I'm all for it. Yes, let us all do our own maintenance and live with motorcycles as God intended. But from a practical standpoint -- squatting down on the dirty, wet ground and banging my hands all to hell trying work out a big, greasy, metal puzzle -- I'd instinctively prefer to let someone else do it. Especially if the puzzle involves a vehicle's electrical system.

Pirsig says this sort of thinking is just an expensive means of making yourself angry. In part, because when you take your motorcycle to a mechanic he or she doesn't invest into it the same things as you. When a mechanic looks at my Honda CBF600SA, they don't see a shining beautiful tool for helping me come to terms with the fact I am presently "stuck" in the UK. They don't see a representation of freedom. They don't see the end product of setting a goal and accomplishing it. They don't see a way for my wife and I to have more enriched lives through access to Britain's breathing spaces. They don't see any of that. They see a Honda CBF600SA -- a motorcycle that Motorcycle News describes as "a bit soulless" -- and they don't care about it the way I do.

The end result of this lack of emotional investment, Pirsig says, is that mechanics are more inclined to do shoddy work.

But not all of us write technical manuals for a living, Rob. Not all of us have a nice, comfy, secure garage where we can dismantle our bikes and leave them sitting for a while if we run into unexpected challenges. Not all of us want to spend the bulk of our far-too-limited free time fixing a damned machine rather than using it.

So, when my father bought me heated grips for Christmas I decided to have someone else install them.

Chris and Robert Pirsig on a Honda CB77, in 1968.

Initially, my plan was to take the bike to one of the Thunder Road locations, with the ulterior motive of test riding another machine while they did the work. Thunder Road are the primary Honda and Suzuki dealers in South Wales. My interaction with them thus far has been less than spectacular, but I was keen to give them another chance because the only real wrong they've done is ignore me.

But when they did that to me again, failing to reply to an email I sent enquiring about service (I got an auto reply but nothing after that), I got huffy and decided to take the bike to a little shop just around the corner from my flat. Sure, that place was "low rent," shall we say, but I figured a professional mechanic of even basic calibre would be able to handle the installation of heated grips.

I figured wrong. The fact is, they did such a poor job that I was able to identify problems on sight. Sparing you a long story, I worked myself into a quivering rage and got most of my money back. The grips work as they should but the electrical tape on my right grip makes it look as if the job was done in Arkansas.

I feel now like John Sutherland: angry at the mechanic for doing such a substandard job, and angry at myself for having trusted him. Would it have been better if I had taken my bike to Thunder Road (c) and paid more? I don't know. I wish I had the skills (and time and space and tools and motivation) to have just done the job myself.

__________

(a)Isn't it crazy to think that both Pirsig and the Sutherlands made this trip on machines that produced no more than 30 bhp?!

(b)BOLT stands for "Brakes, oil, lights, tires." Based on a quick search of the interwebs, I appear to have made up this acronym. I don't remember making it up, but I also don't remember anyone telling it to me. So perhaps there is my own knowledgeable Phaedrus lurking deep within.

(c) My relationship with Thunder Road is an odd one, it has to be said. Because my empirical experiences, i.e. those experiences I've actually had rather than those I could have, suggest I should focus my attention on other businesses. But opposing this is Thunder Road's incredibly positive outreach. After my initial negative experience, they contacted me directly to apologise. When they disappointed me again, they again got in touch. So, since they've not ever made me angry in a way that cost me money, I'm likely to give them a third try sometime soon.

↧

Gear review: Oxford HotGrips Premium Heated Grips

January 27, 2014, 12:00 am

≫ Next: Bullet points

≪ Previous: Robert Pirsig was right


Oxford HotGrips Premium Touring Heated Grips

Saint David, patron saint of Wales, famously said: "Gwnewch y pethau bychain." Do the little things.

Fond of spending several hours standing naked in cold water as a means of testing his faith, St. David was no doubt well acquainted with little things. Nonetheless, his advice remains sage in modern times –– especially for motorcyclists. Because one of the unhappy truths of of motorcycling is that it can be an exacerbating process; little things often become big problems very quickly.

That's true in the case of both the machine and the rider. I am slowly learning that simple annoyances can have a huge affect on the quality and longevity of my riding. But I hadn't realised just how much until I had a pair of Oxford HotGrips (badly) installed on my bike.

As I mentioned in my previous post, the shop I took my bike to dropped the ball somewhat in fitting the grips. They managed to make the sort of mistake I was afraid I might, which, of course, is why I had taken the job to them in the first place. The glue set before they got the grip on all the way. As a result, you can see about 3 mm of white throttle sleeve, and the grip hangs out just a bit over the bar end, making my right handle look like a penis.

Feel free to visualise that, along with the hand action of rolling on and off the throttle, and understand why I was so unhappy with the shop's work. I will now forever feel as if I am giving my Honda a handjob. I thought I had left those days behind when I moved away from Reno...

To add to my pain, the shop chose to cover up the exposed throttle sleeve with electrical tape. Because, you know, that looks really good and will hold up for a super long time in a rainy country like Britain. But, quite probably through sheer luck, they did at least manage to ensure that the grips work properly. And when you're riding through British winter, that's really all that matters.

You need this in your life

And, wow, does it matter. I am inclined now to launch into something of an evangelical tome on the value of heated grips, but I'll spare you and simply say this: you need heated grips. Unless you are one of those Minnesota only-in-the-best-weather sort-of riders (nice khakis, buddy), you need heated grips.

The day after having the grips installed, I rode out to one of my favourite cities, Bath, which is roughly 60 miles away. Back in November I had ridden more or less the same route on my way to Dyrham Park and back then the journey had required midway hand-warming stops. Additionally, I had found the ride to be quite wearying. Not so this time.

I'm pretty sure the weather this time was actually colder than it had been on my previous ride to the Avon Valley, but getting there was so much easier. I arrived in Bath alert and comfortable, perfectly able to deal with the challenges of its pedestrian-laden streets. My hands were warm and somehow that translated into my whole body feeling better.

The trip had been taken only for the sake of a bit of reconnaissance –– finding a place to park near the Raven in anticipation of an event there –– so I didn't have anything to do in the town. After gulping down a tea I hopped on the bike and headed back home. So, at best, my break was just 15 minutes. I rode all the way back to Penarth without feeling the need to stop –– again my hands were warm and that resulted in the rest of me being able to suffer the elements for longer.

Ugly, good gear

Oxford are a motorcycle gear company based out of, you guessed it, Oxford, England. The have earned a reputation for producing affordable, good-quality motorcycle gear that has a tendency to be a bit ugly. My Oxford tank bag, for instance. Really useful, but ugly. The same could be said for the myriad other Oxford items I own –– from chains to balaclavas. They are all useful, but they lack a certain aesthetic finesse.

But then, how sexy can motorcycle grips be? I mean, mine have been fashioned into high-speed dildos; surely that's enough. What matters with grips are their features.

The Oxford HotGrips premium range (I've noticed that major U.S. retailer RevZilla calls them "Heaterz," but it's the same product) is available in different types of grip to suit your style of bike: sport, adventure and touring. The workings of all three grips are exactly the same.

These three styles of premium grip help to differentiate them (slightly) from the older, fewer-featured versions that are also offered by Oxford. The variations on the heated grip theme can be confusing, so make sure you know what you're getting. The premium grips cost a little more but I feel they're worth it.

Oxford HotGrips Premium controller

Firstly, the premium grips allow you five different settings, whereas the standard version offers only two ("high" and "low"). In riding to Bath on a 4C day (39F), I found I only needed my grips set at 30 percent when moving through urban areas, and 50 percent when I was on the motorway. I was wearing my "winter" gloves but not the liners I would normally need in such a situation.

Secondly, the premium grips eliminate the installation challenge that had put me off trying things myself. Obviously, I did not learn this until after I read more about the grips for the sake of this review. I should have done that in the first place. Though, in my defence, I thought I had. It turns out I had been reading about the older versions, which required more of a derring-do attitude toward wiring than I possess.

To ensure the older versions of the grips didn't kill your battery, you have to do a bit of wire splicing, marrying the grips to things like your tail light. You do this because otherwise the grips won't shut off automatically when you turn off the engine. Were you to choose the non-splicing route and wire the grips directly to the engine you would risk forgetting to turn them off and thereby draining your battery.

Despite the assurances of numerous speaking-in-cliche blokes on internet forums ("Ya, mate, it's a doddle! Splice the wire, bob's your uncle. It's the dog's bollocks. My hands are roastin' now...Though admittedly, the throttle sticks from time to time. No worries, though. Helps me stay ahead of the rozzers! LOL!"), the idea of wire splicing almost put me off heated grips entirely. Had my father not given them to me for Christmas, I may never have bought them on my own.

But it turns out that the premium grips have overcome the aforementioned wiring problem. Now, you can wire the grips directly to the battery, no splicing required, and the new Battery Saving Mode will shut them off if you forget.

Additionally, Oxford says more effort has been put into ensuring that the premium grips hold up against the elements.

Not perfect, but worth it

Because Oxford HotGrips are designed to work with every motorcycle, they're not necessarily going to work as seamlessly as a product designed specifically for your machine. That means the wires may stick out at odd angles. If you've taken basic care in installation these wires won't interfere with your access to the controls; it just may not look as sexy as you'd like. But then consider the price difference between Oxford heated grips and OEM heated grips. How much is sexy really worth?

My only minor complaint comes in the truth that Oxford HotGrips can't bend the laws of thermodynamics. It's a given that if you hold your hand up in 80-mph wind, the bits that get coldest fastest will be the fingers. This is because they have the most air swirling around them and the least amount of blood getting to them. Put on gloves and wrap your hands around a heated grip and the basic truth will remain the same. Without handguards to block the wind, heated grips can only do so much.

I found that I felt the warmth most obviously in my palms and that my fingertips could still be just a little chilly even when my palms were telling me to turn down the heat. As I say, though, the grips worked quite well overall. My chilly fingertips were by no means intolerable and my ability to tackle long distances increased exponentially.

I am now very much a heated grip guy. And with Oxford's reputation for durability I look forward to riding through many more winter days. It's amazing what an effect little things can have.

↧

Bullet points

January 30, 2014, 5:17 am

≫ Next: Gear review: VikingCycle Hammer motorcycle jacket

≪ Previous: Gear review: Oxford HotGrips Premium Heated Grips

Things have been pretty dead around here lately. And by "dead" I mean "wet." It has been raining nonstop for weeks. On top of that, it's been cold and I've been working long hours, which means the only free time I have is at night. So, I haven't ridden much.

I feel the need to try to assert my non-wussyness by pointing out that I am willing to ride in the dark and rain and cold -- I have before and most certainly will again. But when the purpose of a ride is simply to get out and clear your head, those conditions aren't ideal.

As a result of this stagnation I've been living vicariously through the internet, consuming just about every motorcycle-related thing I can. To make myself feel I haven't wasted my time in this, I've decided to share a few of the things I've found most interesting in the past week:

+ The reviews are out for the new Suzuki V-Strom 1000 and the basic consensus is: "meh." In my own daydreaming look at middleweight ADV bikes I questioned whether the Big Strom would really be £3,000 more of a bike than the 650cc version and it appears the answer is no. Here are reviews from:

- RideApart

- VisorDown

- Motorcycle.com

+ VisorDown had a funny little piece on why being a motorcyclist may not make you as sexy as you'd like to think. Somewhere in the back of my head I seem to remember RideApart doing something slightly similar not too long ago. So, it seems the appropriation of content goes both ways. (RideApart has on at least three occasions taken a VisorDown story and claimed it as their own) But I like this piece if not simply for the line "you’ve probably got a network of undesirable mates... called ‘Turnip’, ‘Ped-Boy’ or ‘Keith’."

+ Allegedly a number of protests took place around the world in objection to Australia's VLAD act, which extends pretty stiff penalties for associating with undesirable types like Turnip, Ped-Boy and Keith. Exactly how VLAD (a) is implemented is tricky to determine, but the general feeling is that it could be used to prevent motorcycle dudes from hanging out with motorcycle dudes. If I'm honest, I don't quite see how it does this, unless you are keen to commit crimes with said motorcycle dudes.

+ Harley-Davidson is making its demographic target clear by setting its sights on X Games fans, last week proclaiming a desire to see motorcycle ice racing added as an X Games sport. This is a gimmick, obviously. Harley-Davidson doesn't care about ice racing; a Harley, with its excessive weight, would be pretty far down the list of things you'd want in actual ice racing. But HD does care about the X Games audience. You'll remember that Victory has forayed into the same demographic territory with the Ride and Seek series. In my own opinion, I feel Victory's demographic pandering worked a little better. Their efforts are spoiled only by the facts that:

a) Victory bikes are ungodly expensive

b) Victory insists on having R. Lee Ermey as a spokesperson. Because nothing says "hip and different" like a 70-year-old Marine who does cartoon voiceovers.

+ The UK's National Motorcycle Museum has announced plans to add a 250-room hotel to its facilities. This is uninteresting but for the revelation that there is such a thing as the National Motorcycle Museum. I had no idea. A road trip shall be planned.

+ Meanwhile, electric motorcycle maker Brammo has announced it's going to try its luck in the notoriously stuck-in-the-past UK market. This, despite the fact that Zero gave up on us in late 2013. Britons are very sceptical of electric anything, and this is reinforced by our substandard charging network; the whole of Wales has just three charging stations, according to this map. Additionally the bikes are frustratingly expensive.

+ Staying in Britannia for one more item, the UK's Motorcycle Action Group recently went on record in stating that it still objects to the country's 40-year-old helmet law. Because I'm so pro-helmet I can't help but feel it's a totally pointless fight, but you have to respect the fact that Lembit Opik seems better able to state the philosophical argument against helmets than his American counterparts. I like the fact that he describes it as a "symbolic test of liberty." It sounds a whole lot more sane to say: "Look, we realise this is a silly issue and, in fact, we think helmets are a good idea, but we're concerned about principle," instead of the usual American line of: "No helmet because freedom!"

+ I'll bet there are people who know all the motorcycle hand signals by heart and take a certain authoritarian pleasure in using them. They probably seek out group rides solely for the purpose of being able to use hand signals. These are people with whom I am unlikely to get along.

+ Because I often find myself leaning toward sport tourers I thought this Cycle World piece was interesting. I just wish sport tourers looked cooler.

+ And speaking of bikes I want, the Triumph Bonneville has long been toward the top of my list. I've often thought about booking a test ride, just to get a sense of the bike in person, but have been afraid that if I did such a thing I would end up buying one right there and then. It appears that fellow moto-blogger Sash has also recently been bitten by the Bonnie bug pretty severely. Because I love that bike and I'd love to read about anyone's adventures on it, I am doing what I can to push her to get one. Head over to her blog and do the same.

↧

Gear review: VikingCycle Hammer motorcycle jacket

February 3, 2014, 12:00 am

≫ Next: Stuff I don't know: suspension settings

≪ Previous: Bullet points

An interesting thing about this particular gear review: I didn't pay for the gear myself. Normally that's not the case; in previous reviews, the stuff I've talked about is stuff I bought with my own hard-earned money. And often that can be an important factor in determining the real quality of an item: it may be good, but is it good enough for you to spend your money on it?

In this case, however, MotorcycleHouse.com got in touch with me and offered to send me an item if I'd take the time to review it. By effectively eliminating the question of whether I would spend my money on the item, no doubt they were hoping I'd see the product in a more positive light. I'd like to think, though, that I've looked at the item honestly and that this review is as truthful as any other I've done.

Please Hammer, don't hurt 'em.

The item in question is the ~~Exelement~~ VikingCycle ~~Nomad USA~~Hammer motorcycle jacket -- it goes by a few different names. In all cases, it is a surprisingly affordable combination leather-textile jacket with incorporated armour in the shoulders, elbow and back.

And before we go any further, I should add another caveat to this particular review and admit that I haven't actually used the product. MotorcycleHouse.com sent a jacket that was much too large for me, so I can't reliably speak to its fit, nor can I say how well it holds up against the elements. I mean, if I were to put the jacket on and go for a ride, all I would report back is that the jacket ballooned up and I was cold and miserable. But I would report the same on even the most expensive jacket if it, too, were the wrong size for me (a).

In terms of how the jacket looks, however, and based upon what I can gain by putting it on and wearing it around the house, I can say that if it did fit I would expect it to perform agreeably on the road.

For the ATGATTer in you...

The leather part of the jacket runs across the top of the garment, covering the shoulders, collarbone and neck. It seems to me relatively durable leather (i.e., not fashion leather) and within it is a certain amount of padding of the sort that might come in handy were you to be attacked by children with sticks. True, that's not a lot of padding, but in terms of clavicle protection it is more than exists in my current riding jacket. And underneath that padding is additional shoulder armour, though it does strike me as just a bit small.

The rest of the jacket -- from about the nipples down -- is textile, made up of 600 denier "Tri-Tex fabric." Good luck determining exactly what Tri-Tex fabric is, but I'd say a good bet is that it's a fancy name for polyester. It feels very much like the Cordura used in the motorcycle trousers I wear. There is always a certain exchange made when it comes to wearing textile: it simply does not hold up as well at high speed as does leather, but it is lighter, easier to waterproof, cooler and machine-washable.

Within the arms of the jacket is reasonably thick armour for the elbow that extends a decent way down the forearm, and on the jacket sleeve there is a large elbow patch that Exelement's promotional materials claim is Kevlar. MotorcycleHouse.com does not make this claim. Whatever it is, it's at least one more layer at one of the most common spots to earn road rash. And I suppose one more layer of anything goes that much further in helping you to avoid turning out like this guy.

There is a large pad in the back of the jacket, as well, but again I'd put that into "protecting you from kids with sticks" territory. If you are concerned about back injuries, you should probably just splash out and get a back protector. Or volunteer to have the Canadian government infuse your spine with adamantium.

Both the shoulder and elbow armour are CE marked. The back pad is not.

Multi-season comfort

If the jacket were to fit me, there are a number of features to help fine-tune the fit. There is a snap at the neck to help keep the jacket closed. There are zips at the bottom of the sleeves and Velcro to cinch them at the wrists. Additional strips of Velcro help to ensure a good fit at the waist and and forearms (useful in making sure the elbow armour won't slide around in a crash).

Stop. Hammer time.

For cool-weather riding, the jacket comes with a zip-out quilted lining that I found to be quite warm. With the lining in, the jacket has four pockets, each about large enough to hold a mobile phone or wallet, etc., and two strange elastic straps that I suppose would be useful for holding shotgun shells. Because you never know when you're going to need to MacGyver your way out of a bad situation with some shotgun shells and a can of WD-40.

You will only be able to do that in the winter however, because you lose two pockets in shedding the liner. For additional comfort in warm weather, there are two subtle zippers on the chest and one large one in the back to allow air flow.

There is also a zipper in the lower inside of the jacket that would allow you to attach it to a pair of motorcycle trousers, on the off chance that your motorcycle trousers have the same zipper set-up as VikingCycle's jackets. Mine do not, and it is my general experience that such zipper set-ups rarely work across brands.

Keep it slow

There are one or two things I'll admit I don't really like about the jacket. Aesthetics, first and foremost. The leather on the shoulders is a little too "Star Trek: The Next Generation" for my tastes. Whereas those stripes across the chest take me back to JC Penney in the 1980s, and that's not really a place I want to be. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so it may very well be that some people would look at this jacket and think: "That is the new hotness."

And in fairness, the look of the jacket has grown on me somewhat since I first pulled it from the box. If I were to have spent my own money on this jacket I would have done so primarily for its safety features and the stripes are a part of that. The big white stripe makes you visible day or night, and it turns out that light grey strip is reflective, running all the way around the torso and down the sleeves.

And in terms of keeping safe, I'd say this jacket is best suited to urban commuting, or otherwise travelling below 45 mph. This is purely supposition but I'd be concerned that high-speed abrasion might too quickly melt the jacket's polyester.

Lastly, I'm not sure how long the jacket's main zipper would hold up. But then, you get what you pay for; this is not a heritage item. I don't think anyone sees this as something they will be passing on to their children in their will.

Affordable safety

The best gear is the gear you actually use. Is this jacket as good as, say, an Aero Leather Cafe Racer? Nope. Not even close. But the latter jacket costs $1,050 (base price). Whereas for that same amount of money you could buy this VikingCycle Hammer jacket, and gloves and a helmet and motorcycle trousers and boots and a brand new Honda CG110.

In other words, the Aero Leather jacket is better, but you're not likely to go out and get one. And the jacket you don't have isn't going to be of any use to you in a crash. If your budget can only be stretched to encompass the VikingCycle Hammer, I'm pretty sure it's better than riding around with nothing more than a hoodie and a heart full of hope.

Which brings us back to the question posed at the start of this review: Would I spend my own precious money on this jacket? Because of aesthetics, the answer is no. But if I could find no comparable jacket within my price range (and it would be hard to find a jacket so good for so little), or if my tastes were such that I liked looking like a JC Penney kid from the 24th century, then, yes, I would definitely fork out my own cash.

And I'd feel OK doing it. The jacket is made in Pakistan, a country that earns a 4.57 score on the Democracy Index. That's not as good as the United States' score of 8.11 but more positive than China's score of 3. If you can't buy local, try to buy democratic.

MotorcycleHouse.com offers a pretty large selection of jackets on its website, which includes their exclusive VikingCycle range.

__________

(a)MotorcycleHouse.com seems to really pride itself on its easy returns policy, but my situation is rather unique in that I live on the other side of the planet from where they are based. I'm in the United Kingdom; they are in the United States. And sending packages between these two places is an arduous process. It took roughly a month for my jacket to arrive. That's not their fault; it takes about a month for anything to get to me from home. I once had a package disappear for six months. So, sending the jacket back and having the correct size returned would have taken at least until March. Obviously, this would not be the experience of someone living in the United States.

↧

Stuff I don't know: suspension settings

February 5, 2014, 12:00 am

≫ Next: Daydreaming my next bike: A real motorcycle

≪ Previous: Gear review: VikingCycle Hammer motorcycle jacket

Random unrelated cool motorcycle picture

I may have mentioned before that I am a fourth-generation journalist. My great-grandfather was editor of a newspaper in Concho County, Texas, my grandfather was a sportswriter in San Antonio, my father was an anchorman in Austin, and I have worked just about every side of the field imaginable from North Dakota to California to Wales.

One of the little tricks you pick up with such a pedigree is the automatic ability to speak/write with an authoritative voice. When I talk about something -- pretty much anything -- I have a tendency to make it sound as if I really know what I'm talking about. Even when I really, really don't. I once managed to convince a friend that Jimi Hendrix was the original lead guitarist for Metallica.

It's a useful little trick that serves me well in job interviews or managerial situations, but it can backfire at times and result in my being totally ignorant about something that, really, would be helpful to know. A person will hear me speaking on a subject and assume I'm already aware of whatever fact they might have to contribute. Or, worse yet, I'll start to buy into my own nonsense, start to think I really am as knowledgeable as I sound, and I'll forget to ask questions.

I think the latter happened to me just a little bit in the past few weeks. I've been writing gear reviews and broad overview posts about given classes of motorcycle (eg. ADV bikes), and that has somehow accidentally given voice to that deep, dark Wes Siler that lurks within all of us and says: "I Know All The Things."

But then Bob Skoot happened to make a comment about his DL650 burning oil when being run at high RPM and I suddenly thought: "Oooooooooh. My bike does that, too."

Not too long ago I had discovered the CBF600 was a quart shy of oil. I filled it back up but I didn't take the time to ask myself why it was a quart shy. There are no signs of oil leaking from the bike, so where did it go? That is a good question to ask. If oil just sort of disappears from your bike, you really, really should understand the reason. You should understand why it goes and how fast it goes. Failing to do so could result in it being gone and your standing on the roadside in the middle of nowhere.

We could all stand to learn a little more...

But I didn't even think to ask those questions. Perhaps because, with the swagger of a whopping 2,700 miles of riding under my belt and a head full of words, I had unintentionally told myself I was a Knower Of All The Things.

I'm not. Not even close. I'm a newbie, and it's quite possible I will never know even as much as someone like Steve Johnson has forgotten (and I'm pretty sure he would tell you he doesn't know all that much).

The underlying purpose of this blog has always been about learning. So, I'd like to get back to that right now and ask you guys a question:

Suspension. What's the deal with that stuff?

According to my manual, the rear monoshock of my CBF600 has seven different settings. And the bike comes with a nifty little tool to allow me to adjust those settings. But I've never messed with them because I have no idea what I'd be trying to achieve. Nor how any given setting is supposed to affect the ride. When I try to read up on suspension settings I too quickly get lost in technical lingo and talk of sag and suggestions of having three blokes sit on my bike and blahblahblahblah white noise, and I end up needing a nice cup of tea and a sit down.

I am stupid, but I at least understand the concept of hard and soft. So, I'm hoping you can help me fill in the blanks:

- When I'm riding a typically uneven, pot-hole-laden British road my suspension should be _____.

- When I'm riding on the motorway at speeds up to 90 70 mph, my suspension should be_____.

- When I'm riding on a really curvy road my suspension should be _____.

- When Jenn joins me on the bike and we carry luggage my suspension should be _____.

I'd appreciate your help. Thanks.

↧

Daydreaming my next bike: A real motorcycle

February 8, 2014, 12:00 am

≫ Next: Ride review: Triumph Bonneville

≪ Previous: Stuff I don't know: suspension settings

The goal...

Not too long ago, my wife and I were talking about setting goals. In trying to inspire my imagination on the subject, she asked me what bike I'd like to have. I danced around in my head for a few seconds and because I had recently written that post about sport tourers I found myself telling her I'd like a BMW F800GT.

"What is that?" she asked. "I don't know that one."

I quickly did an internet search on my phone and pulled up a picture.

"That looks like the bike you already have," Jenn said. "What about a real bike? A proper bike? This is supposed to be about setting goals; don't sell yourself short. What bike do you really want?"

I blinked at her for a moment. This exchange had illustrated two things:

I don't aim high enough in my thinking. That is true in terms of how I think about my future, how I think about my career, how I think about my physical and mental self, and even in how I think about motorcycles. I mean, a BMW F800GT? That's the apex of my daydreaming? What?! Fuck that noise.
My wife doesn't see my present bike, a Honda CBF600SA, as a real bike. I get what she means, and deep down in my soul I know she's right.

But does it come in green?

"Well, I guess the bike I really want is an Indian Chief Classic," I said.

"That's one from Minnesota?" she asked.

"Yeah, well, the parent company is based in Minnesota. The bikes are made in Iowa, but close enough. Both places are cold and flat, populated by heavy drinkers."

"What's it look like?"

I produced an image on my phone.

"That is a nice motorbike, babe," my wife said. "I really like that one. Can you get it in green?"

"Uhm, I think it's just black or red," I said (though you can also get it in blue). "I guess you could probably pay someone to paint it green."

"You should get it in green."

I've told the story before that, as a little girl, Jenn had a prized sticker book full of motorcycles. She had a soft spot for her father's Honda CB650, of course, but the machines she loved most were the classic Triumphs, especially those painted in British racing green.

So, yes, one day –– some day –– I will get an Indian Chief Classic and I may even have someone paint it green. I will put Jenn on the back and roar the engine and listen to the little girl in her shout and howl and cheer as we ride into the wind.

But, in the immediate future, although I accept the truth of what I just said about aiming too low in my thinking, it may not be realistic. I'm simply not in a position to produce the £18,500 that is the Chief Classic's asking price. Maybe in a decade or so. Right now, though, aiming for something that costs about £10,000 less strikes me as more do-able.

So, when I think about my next bike, what my next bike will actually be, whether it's a cruiser, or a sport tourer or an adventure motorcycle, I tend not to want to stray too far from that "realistic" price point. Fortunately, there are a lot of classically styled motorcycles that are up to the challenge. And for the last of my posts looking collectively at my biking options, that's the style I'll be focusing on.

There's a fine line between a cruiser and a classic/retro/standard, and some of the bikes I've added to the list below tend to straddle that line. Some are better than others in performance, but all are beautiful –– real –– machines. Here's a look:

Yamaha SR400

Price: £5,199

Basic stats: 399 cc, 23 bhp

About: A cute little machine that for me produces memories of 1970s/1980s TV shows like CHiPs, in which plucky teens manage to escape comedy villain drug dealers by riding through a mall or across a baseball field. Yamaha pitches the bike as a platform upon which to build all your hipster dreams. Well, they don't quite phrase it that way, but I'm pretty sure that's what they mean when they say: "Create your own cafe, bobber or scrambler." Interestingly, though, Yamaha seems to miss a trick in failing to offer an accompanying accessory list. As stock, the SR400 strikes me as a good little bike for in-the-city commuting, though not much else.

Would I buy it? No. Only 23 bhp and equipped with a drum brake at the rear, it is just a little too genuine in its old-school credentials. And my financial perspective means it's very hard for me to appreciate a bike that can't serve a wide range of purposes. I can't afford a stable of bikes; I need a machine that can serve me in all paved situations, be it country lane or high-speed motorway. Also, I am not really creative enough to build my own cafe, bobber or scrambler. I never have been; this is why Lego is a bad choice when considering birthday presents for me.

Royal Enfield Continental GT

Royal Enfield Continental GT

Price: £5,199

Stats: 535 cc, 29 bhp

About: You could pick any of Royal Enfield's roster for this classics list. So, I went with the one I like most: the Continental GT.
It is Royal Enfield's newest model –– in both real and design terms. Other REs have been around more than half a century and remained relatively unchanged in all that time. Certainly there's a romantic appeal to such an idea, to the extent that for a while I was very seriously considering getting one. However, that was when I was weighing it against the possibility of a 125cc Honda Varadero. Despite being the newest of Royal Enfield's lineup, the Continental GT holds proper old-school credentials with its single-cylinder air-cooled engine, kick starter, and 1960s styling.

Would I buy one? No. Sure, it looks the part, but the reporting is that it is under-powered and quite possibly incapable of "doing the ton," which, of course, is the philosophical purpose of any cafe racer. Additionally, it comes from a company with an unsteady reputation when it comes to quality. Some of the parts are said to be cheap, and it remains unknown as to whether the Continental GT will fall victim to some of the same horror-story flaws you hear about other Royal Enfield machines produced in the modern era (e.g, cracks in the frame). Additionally, it's clear Royal Enfield is selling an idea as much as they are a machine. The landing page for the Continental website is a collage of pictures in which the only things that are clear are the Royal Enfield logo and sexy people's faces. You have to click elsewhere to see the actual bike. It almost feels as if the Continental GT is a clothing line, with the bike serving as an afterthought.

Moto Guzzi V7 Stone

Moto Guzzi V7 Stone

Price: £6,932
Stats: 744 cc, 48 bhp
About: Hey, would you like some sexy with your sexy? Honestly, if you can look at this bike and not have some part of your brain yelp, "Me want!" you need to seek psychiatric help. You are mentally imbalanced; you are a danger to yourself and others. Because the V7 Stone is a sexy muthahugga of a machine. Of all the bikes on this list, the V7 Stone is undoubtedly the most art-like piece. There as an attention to just about every detail. That's it's Italian heritage showing, perhaps. The bike is unique in that the look-at-me air-cooled engine spins a shaft drive, eliminating the old-school tediousness of fussing with a chain. It has good brakes and, according to most reviews I've read, handles a little better than the bikes that compete with it in looks/price/power. There are conflicting reports as to the bike's reliability, however.
Would I buy one? Yes. I'd be just a little wary because the Moto Guzzi dealer network is a little thin. There doesn't appear to be a single Moto Guzzi dealership in the whole of Wales. But, hey, Wales is a great big poop hole when it comes to just about everything that can't be bought at Asda (the British face of Walmart). My only other concern comes in the fact that when I look at the bike on Cycle-Ergo.com, it shows my knees/shins banging up against the engine. I have heard that the V7 Stone isn't exactly tall-person friendly, so a test ride might clarify my view.

Captain America astride the Harley-Davidson Street 750

Harley-Davidson Street 750

Price: £?,???
Stats: 749 cc, ?? bhp
About: I mentioned earlier the fine line between cruiser and classic/retro/standard. Let's imagine that line exists at knee angle: a bend of more than 90 degrees means a cruiser, and a bend of less than 90 degrees means something else. Based on that, the Street 750 is a standard. Or, at least, it is when being ridden by Captain America, and I'm perfectly happy to have Captain America serve as the definer of all things. How do you correctly load a stapler? The way Captain America does. What's the correct pronunciation of "poinsettia?" The pronunciation used by Captain America. So, if his knee angle suggests he's riding a standard motorcycle, head-on toward a giant hovering gun ship, the Harley-Davidson Street 750 is a standard.
The bike has yet to be released (and won't be in the UK until at least 2015) but Harley-Davidson is clearly expecting it to be a success and throwing the weight of its PR machine behind the project. I think a big factor will be how much power the 750cc engine produces. With a radiator, one would expect it to produce at least 55 bhp, but that would mean its outclassing the XL883, which is one of Harley-Davidson's best sellers.
Would I buy one? No. I've written about the Street 750 before and my objections to the bike have nothing to do with the existence of a radiator or the fact that it will be made in India. Harley-Davidson seems desperate to twist what the definition of "is" is and suggest differently, but, come on, we all know those are going to be India-made bikes. And that's OK. India is awesome. My problems with the bike are threefold:

1) Per a comment from Lucky, the bike's ergonomics suggest it is top heavy and awkward to ride.

2) A somewhat unofficial ride review of the 500cc version of the bike suggests it is like a match involving WWE superstar Big Show: lots of hype, but ultimately disappointing.

3) The more I look at this bike the less I like the look of it. That's purely subjective, I know, but when you're considering a classic/retro/standard a big part of the consideration is the way the bike makes you feel.

Kawasaki W800

Kawasaki W800

Price: £6,899
Stats: 773 cc, 47 bhp
About: Usually mentioned in the same breath as the Triumph Bonneville (see below), the W800 is the quintessential classic bike. Strangely, the bike is not available in the U.S.-market, where I think it could perform well. Americans take a certain pride in being an emotionally driven people and it's no secret they're the catalyst for the current classic/retro/standard craze. In the countries where it is sold the W800 has earned a decent following, with most reviewers making a direct comparison to the Bonneville. In recent years this comparison seems to have become lopsided, as the W800's power output has been reduced to make it adhere to A2 licensing standards. The engine is air cooled and the retro authenticity extends all the way to the bike's rear drum brake.
Would I buy one? No. Drum brake. Additionally it is less powerful than the Triumph Bonneville, doesn't carry the same legacy, and costs more.

Triumph Bonneville
Price: £6,549
Stats: 865 cc, 67 bhp
About: The very definition of a "real" motorcycle, according to my wife, the Triumph Bonneville is pretty much at the heart of the classic/retro/standard class, the way a Harley-Davidson is at the heart of the cruiser class: it is the machine by which all others are measured. Slightly notorious for a less-than-spectacular suspension, it is otherwise beloved by riders and motorcycle journalists alike. Especially those that live in Her Majesty's United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. One of my favourite tales is of the Bonneville owner who put too-loud pipes on the bike and found that even little old ladies were still giving him warm nods of approval –– such is the love of Triumph's old-school legacy.

Triumph Bonneville

The Bonneville has already shown up twice (here and here) on my What I Want list, not to mention the times it has shown up in the guises of the America and Speedmaster, which have the same engine. Time and time again it served as inspiration in my wanting to get my UK license and though I really do value my Honda CBF600SA, I'd be lying if I said I don't wish –– every time I ride –– that I had instead ended up with a Triumph.
Indeed, I may end up correcting that "error" sooner than expected. My wife, of course, is among the millions of Britons carrying a deep love of Triumph and she recently suggested I test ride a Bonneville. She didn't have to say it twice: that night I booked on for a demo ride. And since then I've been reading more about the Bonneville and falling even more in love with it.
An air-cooled twin, the stock Bonneville is, admittedly, a little no frills. It has that less-than-spectacular suspension, of course, and lacks a tachometer. Little things like clocks and gear indicators are equally nonexistent. But the bike serves as an easy platform to infinite modification. Type the phrase "Bonneville accessories" into Google and you will find company after company dedicated solely to helping you make your Bonnie exactly how you want it to be. It is a popular bike, so there are a lot of parts available.
And perhaps because of that it seems to be a frequent choice for long-haul riding. I had read reviews lauding the Bonneville's nimbleness in curves and urban situations, but in my recent research I have also found quite a lot of people who will just as quickly sing its praises as a means of getting from one end of a continent to the other.
Would I buy one? Yes. Have you read this blog? You bet your boots I'd buy one. Indeed, I get the shakes in thinking about my upcoming Bonneville test ride because I just may not be able to resist.

Indian Scout
Price: £?,???
Stats: ??? cc, ?? bhp
About: At the moment, the Indian Scout is nothing but a rumour. And not a very solid rumour at that. As best I can tell, only one media outlet is reporting that a new Indian Scout is in the works, but that's enough to get me excited. And when you think about it, the Scout is an obvious choice as Polaris-backed Indian expands its range. After all, Burt Munro's 1929 Scout is one of the most iconic motorcycles in history –– something Indian acknowledged in building its one-off Spirit of Munro motorcycle. What I'd like to see is something smaller and more affordable than the big, beautiful machine that sits at the top of my list of goals. If I could have my way, the Scout would be a machine to compete against the Bonneville or Honda CB1100 (see below) in terms of agility and price point. I'm perfectly happy for it to have a radiator, like the aforementioned Harley-Davidson Street 750, but I'd hope that more effort would be put into style and performance than with the HD. I want something that's really worth wanting. And like the Triumph I'd like the new Scout to be a proper all-rounder: the kind of bike you can ride to the bar to look sexy, or strap bags to it and follow the North Star.
Would I buy one? Yes. Oh hell yes. All that gushing praise I spilled out for the Triumph Bonneville? Forget it on the day a new Indian Scout comes into being. Honestly, I love Indian motorcycles so much that I would be willing to pay a deposit on one 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.

Honda CB1100

Price: £9,199
Stats: 1140 cc, 88 bhp
About: The CB1100 is kind of the motorcycle version of what happens when Mormons produce hip hop: there's a little too much dedication to message over medium. And what is the message of Honda, whether in motorcycles, cars or riding mowers? It's basically this: "We make efficient, reliable, modern products at an agreeable price."
You will note the absence of emotive words in that message. There is no silliness about freedom or personality or feelings. No, Honda makes objects that are designed to get you from point A to point B, and it sells 18 million such objects each year, thank you.
But you meet the nicest people on a Honda, and nice people want you to be happy. And, well, if you want a bike that looks like the thing your dad had to sell in order to pay for your MMR shots back in the 70s, OK. Well, maybe. Because Honda can't quite remember the bike your dad rode, so it's cobbled together a bike that's a bit like the radio stations your dad listens to: All the hits from the 70s, 80s, 90s and today!
It is a bike that lacks a certain amount of soul. In terms of efficiency and reliability the CB1100 is superior to most of the other bikes on this list, but it is down there with the Harley-Davidson Street 750 in lacking any real kind of soul.
Would I buy one? Maybe. Honda struggles a little bit in this genre of motorcycle because it can't quite let go of what Honda is to be able to embrace the coolness of what Honda was. And what it was is what it is: a company that produces efficient and reliable machines. In the 60s/70s/80s, from which the CB1100's style cues are drawn, those bikes were the most efficient and reliable around. They became cool through the power of hindsight. For example, in the present, Robert Pirsig's CB77 Super Hawk is cool; it wasn't in 1964. It was efficient in 1964; it isn't now. This creates a challenging dichotomy for Honda: how to put together a machine that is efficient and reliable by modern standards whilst still somehow capturing the unintended coolness of a machine that was only ever supposed to be efficient and reliable. By and large they seem to have aimed for the middle ground and hoped for the best.
All that said, I do like the look somewhat and I'm a proven sucker for efficiency and reliability. The question I have, though, is whether it all adds up to the price tag. I don't think it's £9,199 of coolness, and I don't think it's £9,199 of reliability and efficiency. But maybe, possibly, it's enough of both.

BMW R nineT

BMW R nineT

Price: £11,600

Stats: 1170 cc, 110 bhp

About: If Honda is struggling to cram together its modern and classic selves, BMW is making valiant efforts to offer a modern definition of "classic." The newly released R nineT (a homophonic tribute to the old R90 S) is very clearly a machine of the present day, but with a deliberate aim of becoming the sort of machine over which old men swoon and tell exotic tales. You can see that in the way they promoted the bike by taking Roland Sands and dudes from Blitz and El Solitario, and a few more whom I can't really name off the top of my head but recognise as gods of the custom-build scene, out to some scenic location to ride the bikes around and drink beer. One could argue that this is the new Scout as it should be, just made by a different company. It is beautiful, powerful, agile, and easy to customise.
The bike is not yet out but reviews are soaring in praise. Motorcycle News went so far as to suggest BMW had "completely nailed the modern rider's desires" with the bike. In talking about its ergonomics, VisorDown said"the bike was just too engaging for any trace of discomfort to register."
Would I buy one? I'd like to. I mean, truth is, if I had nigh £12,000 I'd probably be spending it on a making a solid deposit toward an Indian Chief Classic, or perhaps on creating the most swagged-out Bonneville ever. I could buy two Continental GTs and ride them like a team of horses. But there's no denying the R nineT is a sexy thing. It's got a certain something that reminds me of the Arch KRGT-1 but, you know, cheaper and almost certainly more reliable. If anyone wants to give me one, I promise not to complain.

And that's the list. I've now gone through All The Bikes. All of them. There are no more bikes. Ever. I can pretty much shut down the blog now.

Erm, maybe not. Perhaps, though, I'll not do any more massive every-bike-I-can-think-of-in-a-given-class posts like this. They are a bit long. But, at the same time, I think they illustrate the underlying truth and philosophy of this blog, which is that motorcycles are awesome. All motorcycles. Even the ones with drum brakes.

That's a philosophy that I picked up from Jamie Robinson, of MotoGeo fame. I've mentioned many times before that the video of him exploring Sequoia National Forest was (and remains) hugely influential in my thinking about motorcycles. At the end of each video Jamie does, he stresses the value of simply getting on two wheels and going somewhere. It doesn't matter the two wheels, it doesn't matter the where, just twist the throttle and go.

For me personally, that philosophy is easiest to grasp when I think about cruisers or classic/retro/standards (can someone please tell me the real name for this class of bike?). That is a reflection of my perspective and my experience, or lack thereof, I know, but these are the bikes that get me the most excited. The bikes that make me giddy. Oh, and did I mention that Jamie Robinson explored Sequoia National Forest on a Triumph Bonneville?

So, when I think of my top three from this list, the Triumph Bonneville comes first (with the caveat that it will be bumped down to the no. 2 slot as soon as the Indian Scout exists). After that, I'd choose the Moto Guzzi V7 Stone and the BMW R nineT.

What do you think? Have you ridden any of these? Are there any modern classic/retro/standards that I've left out? And if you could design the new Indian Scout what would it be?

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