You can tour on any bike, right? Well, yes you can, but in the same way that you can also cross the Atlantic in a rowing boat, would you want to?
If you have serious miles to cover you should be doing it sat on a heated seat, letting the electronically-adjustable suspension soak up the bumps, listening to your favourite tunes through crystal clear stereo sound, and with cruise control doing the hard work for you.
After all, you deserve it.
Palatial squashy seats, engines that could pull a cruise liner, and accessory lists as long as their wheelbases, this is a world where bigger, fatter and more-er is definitely better, this is the world of luxury super tourers.
Here are six of the best:
BMW K1600GT – from £17,245
Reverse gear, hill start control, adaptive headlight, daytime running lights, keyless ignition, a quickshifter and central locking… the K1600 GT LE’s spec and options lists are quite something, and so is the engine and chassis: gobs of creamy power and torque, and a tight, poised and capable chassis will whisk two people and luggage across a continent with ease, and let them have plenty of fun in the mountains at the other end. Gran Turismo, indeed.
Honda GoldWing – £24,999
The daddy of big tourers, Honda’s Goldwing has been around since flares were fashionable (the first time round) and has been refined, tweaked and made bigger and better ever since.
There’s a new model on the way for 2018, which is sharper, more compact and lighter; has four-valves per cylinder, ride-by-wire throttle and four riding modes; Honda Selectable Torque Control and Hill Start Assist; electrically adjustable suepension; electric screen, Smart Key and Apple CarPlay; optional Dual Clutch Transmission, and an airbag.
Harley-Davidson Road Glide – From £23,995
Big, heavy, loud and unmistakably Harley, the Road Glide is for those who want to really feel like their riding a bike, bit still want to be comfortable and cocooned from the whirling world around them. There’s Barcalounger levels of comfort; a massive fairing to keep the wind and weather off; enough luggage capacity for Imelda Marcos, and an entertainment system to keep you amused en-route. The real star of the show though is the new Milwaukee-Eight engine: liquid-cooled, 107 cu in, 111 ft-lb of torque and a slipper clutch – it goes as well as it sounds.
Indian Roadmaster Elite – From £30,299
The Roadmaster should really be bought in Selfridges, not in a bike dealer, such is the opulence therein. The spec sheet is second only to the attention to detail Indian have worked into it: a custom-inspired two-tone paintjob with real 23K gold leaf badging, 20 layers of hand painted silver pearl, silver glitter, clear coats and black crystal-like glass flakes; gold-spun engine covers; lashings of deep chrome; leather passenger armrests and an illuminated ‘War Bonnet’ on the front fender.
Kawasaki VN1700 Classic Tourer – from £13,599
Classic by name and by nature, the Voyager has all the ingredients of a traditional touring cruiser: lazy, torquey, liquid-cooled V-twin motor; big, squishy tyres, suspension and seats to soak up the bumps; cruise control; adjustable, handlebar-mounted screen and fork-mounted wind deflectors to keep the weather off; and plenty of storage in the hard panniers. Sit back, relax and let the countryside glide past.
BMW R1200RT LE – from £16,270
It’s no surprise BMW have two bikes in our list: big, comfy touring barges is what Bavaria do best. The RT, like the Goldwing, has been refined and improved to the far end over the years, and as a result, there are few bikes better to much miles on. Two riding modes, traction control, electric screen and ABS as standard; semi-active suspension, hill start, gear shift assist; heated grips and seat; cruise control, central locking and tyre pressure control, all pulled along by the fabulous latest generation, liquid-cooled Boxer motor. Just großartig.
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When Projects Creep Out of Control
Is ‘more’ always better?
Back in 2008, after more than a decade working in the motorcycle industry, I finally bought my first brand new bike. Like the kid in the proverbial candy store, I wandering through my local motorcycle dealer with my stomach in knots knowing that one of these shiny, magnificent machines would be mine. And like so many people tilted by emotion, despite years of experience and insider knowledge, or perhaps because of it, I let excitement take over the decision making process. I bought a motorcycle far beyond my needs.
It was not long after taking possession of my Yamaha FZ-1 that I realized my mistake. The bike was technically faultless, the problem lay in that it was not at all what I needed. With a tiny fuel capacity and very firm ride it was a lousy touring rig (especially in Quebec where road surface quality is akin to a bombed out airstrip), but conversely it was too bulky and heavy to flick into corners on curvy A roads. It was bigger, faster, incorporated superior suspension and materials technology than it’s predecessor, the Fazer 1000 I helped develop years earlier, an yet somehow the new package was less motorcycle.
When you ask motorcyclists what they want in a new bike, the answer is always “more”. More power, more space, more features. The only thing they don’t want more of is cost. It makes sense, after all we all want more of a good thing. With motorcycles problems often arise when designers and engineers are tasked with piling on those ever increasing specifications to an existing model. This mission creep can, if not managed carefully by a strong project leader, end with a product so packed with features and high specification that it can do everything, but none of it particularly well.
The 1998 – 2004 Yamaha FZS600 Fazer was a wildly successful motorcycle design. At a time when entry level, middle displacement (500cc to 650cc) street bikes were either extremely basic or used obsolete technology, the Fazer delivered modern handling and performance in a user-friendly package. Featuring the engine and brakes from Yamaha’s YZF600R Thundercat, and a compliant chassis made of steel pipe to keep costs down, the little Fazer sold like mad satisfying a wide array of beginners and experienced riders alike.
With motorcycles the temptation is always to add more performance.
Yamaha introduced a mildly revised version two years later, along with the aforementioned larger, 1000cc version. Honda blatantly copied the Fazer formula of packaging supersport technology into an inexpensive package with the CB600F Hornet. Yamaha saw sales plummet, so along with a dozen other designers and engineers I was brought into a group to create the next, all-beating Fazer.
And that’s when the wheels came off the cart.
A whirlwind tour of European cities took place in which we interviewed hundreds of entry-level 600cc customers. The specification list grew longer and longer each day, as the demands of existing users piled on. More fuel tank range! More wind protection! More cargo carrying capacity! And of course… more power! Always more power.
Back at headquarters, the project leader handed over the design brief. As a very young designer I was confused. The new Fazer would now have an R6 motor. It would feature an all aluminum, Deltabox frame, lightweight R6 rims and a 180 section rear tire. Projector headlights. LEDs. Twin, under seat stainless steel exhausts. The brief read like the spec sheet from a top-of-the-line flagship project, not the replacement for Yamaha Motor Europe’s best selling motorcycle.
This is project creep, and it happens when an organization is beset by fear and acts out of ignorance of the big picture. The reasoning behind this phenomenon seems sound: if your opponent has three guys with knives, you better make sure you have six. It makes sense until you discover that you only have enough food for four, and so field six starved, exhausted guys against three strong and healthy ones. In manufacturing history there are hundreds of examples of this, the most famous of which may be the case of the Ford Edsel. It had more of everything than any of its competitors, and yet was so much less car.
With motorcycles the temptation is always to add more performance. After all, motorcyclists are fundamentally sold on the thrill of speed and aggressive handling. The problem is that too much performance makes most motorcycles into unmanageable, sphincter-clenching torture devices. Among our tribe few are skilled enough to exploit even half of the potential of modern bikes, which makes adding high performance to models destined for the rest of us an academic exercise. Of course our egos won’t allow us to admit it, but inside we are terrified of opening the throttle fully mid-corner. So we don’t, and wobble around on large, expensive bikes that not only don’t satisfy, but fill us with regret because we cannot master the objects of our desire.
At the cruiser end of the spectrum, the height of the chopper era saw mature, fully grown manufacturers launch models that were laden with Edsel-like heapings of features. The Honda Rune was presented as the end-all, be-all of the cruiser genre. According to Honda America’s Ray Blank, they “…wanted to set the bar higher than ever, erecting standards that no one else had yet imagined.”.
The result was a seven foot long, 400 kg, six cylinder monster that boasted 50% more torque than Honda’s then flagship superbike.
It was literally the most cruiser you could buy from any mainstream manufacturer, and yet its’ excess was its failure. At $30,000 (US) it wasn’t more expensive than a range topping Harley-Davidson, but the market balked at its bulk and cornucopia of pointless styling. Honda had failed completely to stop the design at some stage and roll it back, asking the team to refocus on what make people yearn to cruise on a motorcycle: the simple joy of sitting astride a large mechanical powertrain suspended between two chunky tires. The Chopper is, by definition, a bike “chopped” down to its basic, core elements. A little baroque styling and flair is cool, but it is not the main attraction.
As an industry, the motorcycle business is not very good at learning the lesson of project creep. The endless fight to produce the sexiest products in the marketplace inevitably drive an arms race that produces some great innovation but also squeezes out lots of poorly conceived motorcycles. If a bike comes out with a strong styling direction that hits the market like a storm, then simply copying it only with a more extreme execution is not going to work. When a competitor eats your lunch, as the Honda Hornet did when it replicated the original Yamaha Fazer concept in 2003, then just doubling down on everything is not going to win the market back.
How did we end up in a place where an entry-level street bike comes with racing style, upside-down forks and a mouse pad for a seat?
The second generation FZS600 (called the FZ6 in North America) that debuted in 2005 with all those crazy upmarket features did well in Europe for a few years, but alienated a lot of customers who loved the original Fazer’s rugged, approachable simplicity. They flocked to the second generation Suzuki SV650S, which was a better Fazer than the new FZ6 (ironically, the Suzuki’s styling was almost a copy of the updated original Fazer). By 2008, Yamaha introduced the FZ6R, a confusingly named but genuine successor to the formula that was simple, cheap, versatile and easy to use. It quietly dropped the over-spec’ed FZ6 Fazer without a replacement a year later.
In the market battlespace, project creep is easily seen in the most hotly contested areas. The 250cc class ballooned to 300cc because Kawasaki needed to edge out the class leading Honda CBR250. Then KTM launched the RC390, resplendent in its superior specification. The new Honda CBR250RR presented this winter is a very far cry from the CBR250 I tested in 2011. In five short years, the baby Honda sport bike went from being what I called “the missing link”, a motorcycle for everyone that the industry so badly needed, to being a mini CBR1000RR World Superbike contender.
I love the look of the CBR250RR, and if I am completely honest I want one rather badly. But how did we end up in a place where an entry-level street bike comes with racing style, upside-down forks and a mouse pad for a seat? I suspect it has a lot to do with looking ahead instead of behind. I’ve seen this show and I know the ending. In five years time the 250cc class will be dead again, because it will have priced itself out of the marketplace.
Getting excited and dreaming of the ultimate motorcycle is the job, but it is also the duty of manufacturers to deliver products people can actually afford and use. The ultimate anything is, as the word suggests, the last of the line. And winning the battle for the ultimate product is meaningless if you destroy the consumer base as a consequence.
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Ladies and Gentleman, motorcycling.
So many things to say, so few cares left to give, but c’mon people? Is this really want we think passes as a way to attract people to a biking festival?
Sure, as the guys from the Two Enthusiasts podcast so eloquently put it in their latest episode, ‘people like to see boobs’. But do you know a better way to double your boob quota for an event?
Yep – like the same guys from the same podcast also suggest – why not produce an environment that’s inclusive to women and may actually encourage them stick around and pay an interest towards these wonderful, two-wheeled machines.
Also, Bridgestone? You should know better. Even Pirelli have stopped that nonsense with their calendar now and moved on to something far more interesting.