After a sleepless night I decided to gain some clarity by making a list of all the bikes I’d really and truly consider buying, ones I have given serious consideration – and it’s a long list, about twenty bikes. The only reason I put a bike on the list is because I have considered it very seriously. That means I’ve researched it, sat on it, and if possible, ridden it. I pared from the list oddities, old loves, and antiques that, when it comes right down to it, I wouldn’t buy to be my only bike. And I don’t want a bike more than a couple of years old for maintenance and reliability reasons. It’s coming down to the final buzzer – in a matter of weeks I’ll be voting with my wallet. I like ‘em all, but it’s time to get real about which one I can love. Time to pick all the nits, put the flaws of each bike right out in the light. Time to tell the truth about the emperor’s new leathers.
First, here are a couple of bikes I’d probably buy if I could just hit the lotto numbers – they’re both frightfully expensive. From the department of “Money No Object:”
BMW R1200 GS – Ouch! It’s €13,500 with the adjustable-size panniers.
Although gently used examples can be had for around €12,000, that’s still more than many of the other bikes on this list cost new. In its past iterations, the indomitable looking Teutonic titan has been a big seller, but it never heated my kettle to a full boil. I can’t say I find the new look of the 1200 to be an improvement, I’m still undecided on the plasticky side panels. I think there are better-looking bikes, but hey, looks aren’t everything. (Are they? Aren’t they?) Except for the dreadful looking origami windscreen, it all looks fine from the cockpit. My gushing praise and perma-grin after two days in the Alps last summer could have been printed up as a sales brochure. This may be the only bike with so many riding advantages that its less-than-delectable looks don’t drop it out of the running.
The new BMW R1200 ST. With 110 hp on tap, I’m guessing that this new boxer would suit me down to the ground. But fer gawdsakes, it’s €14,500 without any hard bags. Is it just me, or is it arrogant of BMW to charge €95 extra for a centerstand? Even so (or maybe because of it), I’m writhing with curiosity about how it rides. I rode the R1200GS last year and loved its motor, suspension and gearbox. Maybe it’ll be worth a second mortgage if the ride lives up to the price. The dealer does, after all, offer some great financing. The stacked lights and windscreen look better in person. Really. From some angles. Kind of. I think.
Then there are my perennial loves, Category: “I’ll always want one, but…”
BMW R1150 RS: But it's got such dated styling. But there is a blue ’04 at the local dealer which always yanks my head around for a long gander whenever I walk by. It’s the tourer I should have bought in San Diego instead of the RT. My own soap opera moment: Oh no, I married the wrong sister.
BMW R1100S: But it really cramps my legs, and I'm completely unable to dawdle along enjoying the scenery on it – On a test ride I tried, and I just couldn’t ride within the speed limits without great mental anguish. A license ban should take about three weeks to earn. Pure lust, that’s my feeling about the S. There is no rational reason to buy this bike among its more comfortable stablemates like the RS and the GS. But wanting it for its killer boss-eyed gaze, perfect mirror stalks, and cool underseat cans isn’t about rational thinking, Pamela.
BMW F650 GS: But it will never blaze on the autobahn. I try to tell myself that it’s the scant 50 bhp that keep me from buying the baby Beemer, but the looks also disappoint me somewhere south of the belt buckle. And yet common sense is a horrible thing, because every time I see one, common sense tells me how fun and practical they are. The Bavarians would have done me a big favor to make it just a little uglier. It’s like that cheerful, smart, flat chested, buck-tooth girl at school who you knew would be a great companion but you just didn’t want to be seen dating. I’m so shallow!
Ducati ST-3: But it's got capricious electronics and a weak finish. Besides, if I decide to go with a really sporty sports-tourer, how could I ever choose between the ST-3 and the new Triumph Sprint ST? I find them both achingly beautiful, but oh that Sprint! This is a clear case of needing to win the lotto. That way I can have a red bike and a blue bike in the garage that perform exactly the same mission.
2005 Triumph Sprint ST: But, like the R100S, it'll never go pottering around the backroads here. I mean, just look at it – one must, obviously, haul frickin’ ass down everywhere one goes, lest the gods of riding smite thee down in anger. It's gorgeous, but when I let my brain have the vote, I just can’t see buying it. If I exclude the brain and leave it up to the heart and wedding tackle, it (just) edges out the ST3. Stunning.
Suzuki V-Strom. Will somebody please go to Suzuki and take away all their straight edges? That includes the half-faired SV1000. I had such hope for the V-Strom. It was the reason that Suzuki North America wouldn’t let the sexy Cagiva Navigator come to America, and then the V-Strom turned up looking like an angry robot.
Honda, under-represented elsewhere, takes three of the slots in this category. Listed from worst to best, these are “Good bikes, shame about the looks.”
Honda Varadero. Great idea, but its repellent looks have never been adequately explained, only rationalised with quips like “Great weather protection.” The new Touring version with three color-matched hard bags looks good from the tank rearward. But you can’t always sneak up on it from behind, can you?
Honda Deauville 650. The Tupperware torpedo. Super practical, but it’s just too sluggish for two-up touring at altitude. If it had the old VFR’s 750, it would be a serious contender. As is, it’s a sensible commuter, as long as no one sees you on it.
Honda Transalp. It’s bulky for a 650, seems about a third larger than the F650GS. Same wheezy motor as the Deauville, but at least it’s 37 kilos lighter. For no logical reason, I’m willing to settle for less puff in an Enduro style bike. Good looking from some angles. If it had the TDM’s 900, it’d look even better.
Yamaha TDM 900. Ugliest fairing ever designed by my erstwhile favorite oriental marque. Is it supposed to look like the cartoon Martian peeping out from under his shield? Or a pterodactyl eating a lava lamp? Can I have the old fairing with the twin round lamps with the new motor and gearbox, please?
Yamaha Fazer 1000. Best looking bike of this lot, yet no fairing in bikedom looks like more of an afterthought. If they had smoothly blended the fairing into the tank, I’d probably already have bought one. I just can’t get past the canard-wing view from the cockpit. And the big radiator in front looks like, well, a big radiator.
In no particular order, here are some bikes that I truly like in principle, but that will almost certainly never see my money on the counter. “Good bikes, shame about the …"
KTM 950 Adventure: Shame about the unsightly easel fairing and the white-hot exhaust pipes. Hot exhaust pipes? Yea, I have seen the melted rear fairing panels and ruined throw-over panniers in person. And am I the only one that think it looks like a surprised llama? Yes, I know llamas are mean and tough and can scamper right up a mountain, but I prefer thoroughbreds or even pack mules, for that matter. Besides, orange clashes so with my blue jacket, don'cha know.
Kawasaki ZRX1200: Shame about the absence of legroom. The back of my knees still have a rash from riding a Zed Rex for ten days in 2000. On the pillion, my lanky wife had no problem keeping her ears warm with her knees.
Breva 1100: Shame about its complete absence from the planet. Forget being Fast and Furious, this one’s called Dude, Where’s My Bike?
Triumph Thunderbird Sport: Shame about the stratospheric price. There’s a leftover ’04 at the dealer for around €8100. For a discontinued standard? For maybe €6500 I’d give it a thought. But for over €8K I’ll be looking for a little more legroom, tourability, weather protection, speed….
Honda VFR 800: Shame about the €1000 valve adjustments. Honda, come down from your cloud and talk to the people. We didn’t want VTEC, we wanted 200 more cee-cee’s. And shaft drive, while you’re at it.
After all that gnashing of teeth, these have to be THE FINALISTS:
BMW R1150GS: My buddy Sabo has a 2002 model in Portland, Oregon, and he swears by its comfort, utility, and fun factor. I really like the blue-white scheme from 2002 – 03, in fact when I bought my first BMW in 2002, an 1150RT, I asked if they could swap the paint from the GS over to the RT. Ever since the RT I’ve been a big fan of the boxer motor’s character, torque and looks, so I’m ready to give it a lot of benefit of the doubt.
Triumph Tiger 955i: I’d never paid the Tiger much attention, though I had often admired the audacious look of the beast in magazines. I’ve always had a thing for twin round headlamps, ever since the old GSXR and the original TDM. Last summer I had the opportunity to ride an ’03 Tiger for a weekend and I instantly fell in love with the creamy power of its 955 triple. I’d like to be able to afford the new and improved ’05 model, but at €10,360 it’s really only a few bucks shy of a low-mileage 1200GS. Choosing between them, I’d skip the Tiger and go the extra bucks to get a GS with shaft-drive and ABS. On the other hand, a low mileage ’03 or ’04 Tiger can be had for a lot less than a used 1200GS, and a sagging dollar could see the big feline winning my vote.
AND THE (most likely) WINNER IS:
According to experts the world over, the 1150GS is a far superior bike to the Tiger. Having had ABS save my bacon more than once during overly-spirited riding (my fault!) and in nasty southern California freeway chaos (definitely not my fault), I put a lot of value on it. And the shaft-drive RT spoiled me forever about not having to clean off the back wheel after lubing up. (The chain, that is.) If I were buying today, I’d take the 1150GS and hope that in a couple of years a new Tiger comes along with ABS and the new Sprint’s 1050 motor. I bet I could bring myself to lube a chain for that package.
All that having been said, ask me again next month which one I’m buying and who knows, it may not even be on this list. Unless I win the lotto. Then I’ll take them all.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Sleepless in Achberg
Too many great motorcycles to choose from while seeking to refine my search criteria
I love motorcycles. I can look at almost any motorcycle ever made and think “Now that’d be fun to have.” And there’s been a huge crop of bikes in the last few years that appeal to me. There are dozens of bikes I would buy if money and parking space were not an issue. Hell, in my fantasy garage, I’d have one of each. One in each color. The hard part for me is picking just one. It’s not parting with the money that makes me sweat, it’s the finality of the decision. Buying any one particular bike means I’m not picking one of the others I like. My airline pilot buddy Sabo assures me this is normal. Says he has the same problem whenever there’s more than one available girl at a party.
Living in California, it was frustrating for me to read the British magazines and see all the models that didn’t come to the US over the years. While the range of imports is getting better in America, there have always been more choices on the east side of the Atlantic. We Yanks missed out on many models that you probably take for granted if you live in Europe. We didn’t get the Yamaha Ténéré, Super Ténéré, TDM 900, Bulldog, or the new MT-01. Nor the Honda Deauville, Transalp 650, Africa Twin or Varadero. No big retros like the XJR1300, CB1300 or GSX1400. No FJR1300 the first two years. That’s just to name a few. Yes, we got the VFR, Firestorm and Blackbird, thank you, but only in one color. (Always the wrong one, you ask me.) Bottom line, Americans vote with their wallets, and they vote for fast sportsbikes and big cruisers, and not much in between.
At 6’2” and 200 lbs, my personal criteria for a bike are pretty straightforward: it shouldn’t kill my back, cramp my legs, require a tailwind to break the ton, or, for that matter, be able to break it in first gear (gets me in trouble). I appreciate, but don’t require, goodies like shaft drive and ABS, and I like a modicum of weather protection. Plus – and this is crucial – I’ve got to love its looks. I mean, what good is having a bike if you can’t pop a beer after a ride and just stand back and admire it? What kind of spanner-up-the-tailpipe pragmatist shells out good money for a bike only because it works well? I want a bike that wrenches my head around to gawp at it even after I rode it to the café up on the mountain.
Some bikes everyone says are wonderful just don’t float my boat, like the Z-750, the Caponord, or the Bandit 1200. Respect them I do, I’ve just never fallen for their looks. I can just hear all the shouting, “If you rode one for awhile you’d come to love it!” Sorry, I just don’t feel like I’m supposed to be in that kind of relationship. Can’t we just be friends?
Others, I love the looks, but know better than put myself through the torture. Race replicas thrill my heart but they are meant to be ridden at extreme velocities. Fact is, I hate being on top of a supersonic fighter while having to ride at traffic-pattern airspeeds in order to preserve my license. I’d rather be wringing the living daylights out of a 650 single than using ten percent of the warp-factor-seven available on some race-bred hyperbike. Also, I’m too old and pragmatic to think I’ll be happy in the long term with aching wrists, back and neck just for the sake of a few well-strafed apexes. After an hour’s riding I’d be singing “The Thrill is Gone.”
I’ve really taken to the bikes being classified as “Giant Trailies” or “Adventure Tourers.” I prefer to think of them as rational sports-tourers. Comfortable one- or two-up, good for dawdling and sightseeing but well able to pick up the pace on demand, they’re some of the best all-rounders on the pavement. Me go off-roading or round-the-world? No thanks. Not my goal. Besides, ever since I saw some nut in Austria successfully take his Fireblade off-roading on a dirt road over the Alps (‘s true!), I no longer see long-travel suspension as a requirement for that duty. Just determination.
Truth be known, in the past decade I’ve owned just three bikes. There was a ’93 FJ1200ABS that I bought new in ’95, but finally had to sell in 2000 due to wrist problems – I couldn’t keep myself from going twice the 65 mph speed limit on my San Diego commute every day. I never did get a ticket – knock wood – but if I had, it would have said Go Directly To Jail.
To rein myself in a little, and to gain a more comfortable riding position, I sold the FJ and bought a Cagiva Gran Canyon, even while Cagiva’s future – or existence, for that matter – was tenuous at best. I had heaps of fun on the Cagiva, and the highest speed I eked out was a meager 118 indicated. Speed problem sorted. The grunty Ducati two-valver and the lofty perch taught me something else, too: that it’s fun to potter along looking at the scenery once in a while, not just try to straighten out every bit of twisted pavement at maximum velocity.
In 2002 my wife and I made our plan to move to Europe, and in order to do some serious touring before we left, sold the Gran Canyon and bought a BMW R1150RT. For the next two years the RT proved a capable tourer, commuter, and even a decent sports-tourer, albeit a large one. I never thought of myself as a Beemer type of guy, but once I had the switchgear sorted out (i.e., once I stopped flashing a menacing left blinker at inattentive drivers and honking the horn to cancel said blinker), I found myself rightly impressed with the absence of dive from the telelever front end and the massive grab of the servo-assisted brakes. Got spoiled by the shaft-drive, too.
In May 2004 my wife and I finally moved out of southern California and settled near her hometown in southern Germany, a few minutes from Lake Constance. Southern California is home to some of the greatest motorcycling roads in the world and has phenomenal year-round riding weather, but where driving is concerned it really is the world’s largest open-air insane asylum. For a daily rider, the worst part are the full-combat conditions of the freeways, where those drivers not vacantly chatting on the phone go speeding maniacally across any and all lanes. Blinkers are a sign of weakness, and the weak are fallen upon and devoured. It’s the real life Fast and the Furious, starring over-caffienated soccer moms in gigantic SUVs and super-charged gang-bangers in sports coupes trying to outmaneuver the realtor who’s late to his anger management class. Sometimes actual gunfire erupts.
Starting in 1995 I’d travelled to Germany on holiday seven times and had rented or borrowed about a dozen bikes for anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of weeks. I’d come to relish European riding, what with the better disciplined and motorcycle-friendly drivers. I was stunned by the huge number of bikes on the roads in the summer, and how many of those models I’d never seen stateside. After a few excursions over the Passos I started dreaming about swapping year-round riding in crazy SoCal for riding in the Alps all summer, and I struck a deal with my wife: We’ll move to Germany, and I get to buy whatever bike I want. (Within reason. No Morbidelli V8, for example.) I started poring over the magazines and catalogs, getting heart palpitations every time I did because there would be so many more options in Europe, and I would have to pick only one.
A couple of weeks ago I went to the motorcycle show in Friedrichshafen, Germany. This is a relatively minor bike show wherein the area dealers – not the manufacturers themselves – display the latest bikes. The show was a bit of a disappointment because there were some brands completely without representation, like Moto Guzzi. But overall it was a fun show (what bike show isn’t?) and I spent all three days of the show in full shopping mode. I really wanted to leave knowing which set of wheels will be parked up in my shed once the riding season begins. But by Saturday night I’d blown all my fuses going over and over all the choices, and I found myself lying awake at midnight, unable to sleep. Too many choices – what a laughable problem. But with only one parking place in the garage and one bike in the budget, the killer question – which one, which one? – kept me percolating till dawn.
I love motorcycles. I can look at almost any motorcycle ever made and think “Now that’d be fun to have.” And there’s been a huge crop of bikes in the last few years that appeal to me. There are dozens of bikes I would buy if money and parking space were not an issue. Hell, in my fantasy garage, I’d have one of each. One in each color. The hard part for me is picking just one. It’s not parting with the money that makes me sweat, it’s the finality of the decision. Buying any one particular bike means I’m not picking one of the others I like. My airline pilot buddy Sabo assures me this is normal. Says he has the same problem whenever there’s more than one available girl at a party.
Living in California, it was frustrating for me to read the British magazines and see all the models that didn’t come to the US over the years. While the range of imports is getting better in America, there have always been more choices on the east side of the Atlantic. We Yanks missed out on many models that you probably take for granted if you live in Europe. We didn’t get the Yamaha Ténéré, Super Ténéré, TDM 900, Bulldog, or the new MT-01. Nor the Honda Deauville, Transalp 650, Africa Twin or Varadero. No big retros like the XJR1300, CB1300 or GSX1400. No FJR1300 the first two years. That’s just to name a few. Yes, we got the VFR, Firestorm and Blackbird, thank you, but only in one color. (Always the wrong one, you ask me.) Bottom line, Americans vote with their wallets, and they vote for fast sportsbikes and big cruisers, and not much in between.
At 6’2” and 200 lbs, my personal criteria for a bike are pretty straightforward: it shouldn’t kill my back, cramp my legs, require a tailwind to break the ton, or, for that matter, be able to break it in first gear (gets me in trouble). I appreciate, but don’t require, goodies like shaft drive and ABS, and I like a modicum of weather protection. Plus – and this is crucial – I’ve got to love its looks. I mean, what good is having a bike if you can’t pop a beer after a ride and just stand back and admire it? What kind of spanner-up-the-tailpipe pragmatist shells out good money for a bike only because it works well? I want a bike that wrenches my head around to gawp at it even after I rode it to the café up on the mountain.
Some bikes everyone says are wonderful just don’t float my boat, like the Z-750, the Caponord, or the Bandit 1200. Respect them I do, I’ve just never fallen for their looks. I can just hear all the shouting, “If you rode one for awhile you’d come to love it!” Sorry, I just don’t feel like I’m supposed to be in that kind of relationship. Can’t we just be friends?
Others, I love the looks, but know better than put myself through the torture. Race replicas thrill my heart but they are meant to be ridden at extreme velocities. Fact is, I hate being on top of a supersonic fighter while having to ride at traffic-pattern airspeeds in order to preserve my license. I’d rather be wringing the living daylights out of a 650 single than using ten percent of the warp-factor-seven available on some race-bred hyperbike. Also, I’m too old and pragmatic to think I’ll be happy in the long term with aching wrists, back and neck just for the sake of a few well-strafed apexes. After an hour’s riding I’d be singing “The Thrill is Gone.”
I’ve really taken to the bikes being classified as “Giant Trailies” or “Adventure Tourers.” I prefer to think of them as rational sports-tourers. Comfortable one- or two-up, good for dawdling and sightseeing but well able to pick up the pace on demand, they’re some of the best all-rounders on the pavement. Me go off-roading or round-the-world? No thanks. Not my goal. Besides, ever since I saw some nut in Austria successfully take his Fireblade off-roading on a dirt road over the Alps (‘s true!), I no longer see long-travel suspension as a requirement for that duty. Just determination.
Truth be known, in the past decade I’ve owned just three bikes. There was a ’93 FJ1200ABS that I bought new in ’95, but finally had to sell in 2000 due to wrist problems – I couldn’t keep myself from going twice the 65 mph speed limit on my San Diego commute every day. I never did get a ticket – knock wood – but if I had, it would have said Go Directly To Jail.
To rein myself in a little, and to gain a more comfortable riding position, I sold the FJ and bought a Cagiva Gran Canyon, even while Cagiva’s future – or existence, for that matter – was tenuous at best. I had heaps of fun on the Cagiva, and the highest speed I eked out was a meager 118 indicated. Speed problem sorted. The grunty Ducati two-valver and the lofty perch taught me something else, too: that it’s fun to potter along looking at the scenery once in a while, not just try to straighten out every bit of twisted pavement at maximum velocity.
In 2002 my wife and I made our plan to move to Europe, and in order to do some serious touring before we left, sold the Gran Canyon and bought a BMW R1150RT. For the next two years the RT proved a capable tourer, commuter, and even a decent sports-tourer, albeit a large one. I never thought of myself as a Beemer type of guy, but once I had the switchgear sorted out (i.e., once I stopped flashing a menacing left blinker at inattentive drivers and honking the horn to cancel said blinker), I found myself rightly impressed with the absence of dive from the telelever front end and the massive grab of the servo-assisted brakes. Got spoiled by the shaft-drive, too.
In May 2004 my wife and I finally moved out of southern California and settled near her hometown in southern Germany, a few minutes from Lake Constance. Southern California is home to some of the greatest motorcycling roads in the world and has phenomenal year-round riding weather, but where driving is concerned it really is the world’s largest open-air insane asylum. For a daily rider, the worst part are the full-combat conditions of the freeways, where those drivers not vacantly chatting on the phone go speeding maniacally across any and all lanes. Blinkers are a sign of weakness, and the weak are fallen upon and devoured. It’s the real life Fast and the Furious, starring over-caffienated soccer moms in gigantic SUVs and super-charged gang-bangers in sports coupes trying to outmaneuver the realtor who’s late to his anger management class. Sometimes actual gunfire erupts.
Starting in 1995 I’d travelled to Germany on holiday seven times and had rented or borrowed about a dozen bikes for anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of weeks. I’d come to relish European riding, what with the better disciplined and motorcycle-friendly drivers. I was stunned by the huge number of bikes on the roads in the summer, and how many of those models I’d never seen stateside. After a few excursions over the Passos I started dreaming about swapping year-round riding in crazy SoCal for riding in the Alps all summer, and I struck a deal with my wife: We’ll move to Germany, and I get to buy whatever bike I want. (Within reason. No Morbidelli V8, for example.) I started poring over the magazines and catalogs, getting heart palpitations every time I did because there would be so many more options in Europe, and I would have to pick only one.
A couple of weeks ago I went to the motorcycle show in Friedrichshafen, Germany. This is a relatively minor bike show wherein the area dealers – not the manufacturers themselves – display the latest bikes. The show was a bit of a disappointment because there were some brands completely without representation, like Moto Guzzi. But overall it was a fun show (what bike show isn’t?) and I spent all three days of the show in full shopping mode. I really wanted to leave knowing which set of wheels will be parked up in my shed once the riding season begins. But by Saturday night I’d blown all my fuses going over and over all the choices, and I found myself lying awake at midnight, unable to sleep. Too many choices – what a laughable problem. But with only one parking place in the garage and one bike in the budget, the killer question – which one, which one? – kept me percolating till dawn.
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