James Deuce
26th September 2005, 16:23
All motorcycles used to be like this. Comfy semi-forward canted ride position, controls that just fall to hand, and enough, just enough power to despatch the average sedan. Naked? Fairings are for race bikes and nancy, panty waisted tourers. Us motorcyclist like bugs in our teeth, and the feeling of freedom that the wind gives as it holds your torso up, leaving wrists and arms to counter slightly soggy suspension.
I’ve commuted and had a “sport” ride or two on the CB400 over the last week, and have been surprised to find that it still pushes the “motorcycle heap big fun” button, despite having less than 50% of the power of the R6, and suspension that merely stops the tyres from rubbing on the minimalist bodywork, let alone keeping the tyres in contact with the ground and internal organs located where they should be. 100km/hr feels like 200 and the noise the exposed engine makes is intoxicating, more a tiny F1 engine than a buzzing small cc screamer. I keep hitting the rev limiter at awkward moments though, fooled by the smoothness of the engine and the very slick gearbox.
I rode the R6 on Saturday, to gain a contrasting view after a week of commuting. The biggest shock was the riding position, though that feeling evaporates once you hit highway speeds. The single most surprising thing about the riding position, is how much the head down, bum up stance restricts your view of everything around you. Casual glances require thought to avoid twitching bars and steering into the lane next door and for those of us with dodgy necks and upper backs, strained muscles.
The CB400 generates a warm glow. Attacking a road requires a very different approach to the R6. Trail braking keeps the weight at the pointy end and a consistent steering head angle, where attempting to “flow” through corners makes the front rake out if you’re on the gas. This has the effect of slowing the steering part way through the corner and making you run wide on the exit. Good sight lines and a very late turn in are essential for this approach to work, and with practice can become 2nd nature.
The R6 on the other hand transcends such piffling details as changing geometry under braking and acceleration by countering the effects with quality suspension control. Where the CB400 is bouncing and pitching, the R6 wafts over the same imperfections without troubling its 7/10ths rider particularly much. The CB requires a considered approach to being ridden quickly, where the R6 demands that you ride hard enough to make its bits work correctly. I found myself being drawn back to a long forgotten world by the CB400, of desperately earned momentum, judicious braking, and bent throttle stops, with the odd “dodgy” overtake thrown into the bargain. Mind you mint green early ‘90s Porsche Carrera 2s should either be banned on taste grounds or driven a little bit harder than that. The R6 despatches Porsches with nary a blink, and the horizon almost as quickly. Maybe 2 blinks.
Funny thing is, both bikes make me smile. The CB400 produces an almost smug glow of dependability and a surety that thou art upon “reliable transport”. Not actually a bad thing when that’s what you bought it for. The R6 makes your hair spontaneously combust, and your smile isn’t so much a “happy, happy, joy, joy” expression, more a manic grimace with throbbing veins, a slightly bulging left eye, and a nervous tic that doesn’t go away when you stop riding it for at least a couple of days. Now if only I could find a single bike that does BOTH things for the psyche. Or a Government that registers the rider for the road, rather than the bike.
I’ve commuted and had a “sport” ride or two on the CB400 over the last week, and have been surprised to find that it still pushes the “motorcycle heap big fun” button, despite having less than 50% of the power of the R6, and suspension that merely stops the tyres from rubbing on the minimalist bodywork, let alone keeping the tyres in contact with the ground and internal organs located where they should be. 100km/hr feels like 200 and the noise the exposed engine makes is intoxicating, more a tiny F1 engine than a buzzing small cc screamer. I keep hitting the rev limiter at awkward moments though, fooled by the smoothness of the engine and the very slick gearbox.
I rode the R6 on Saturday, to gain a contrasting view after a week of commuting. The biggest shock was the riding position, though that feeling evaporates once you hit highway speeds. The single most surprising thing about the riding position, is how much the head down, bum up stance restricts your view of everything around you. Casual glances require thought to avoid twitching bars and steering into the lane next door and for those of us with dodgy necks and upper backs, strained muscles.
The CB400 generates a warm glow. Attacking a road requires a very different approach to the R6. Trail braking keeps the weight at the pointy end and a consistent steering head angle, where attempting to “flow” through corners makes the front rake out if you’re on the gas. This has the effect of slowing the steering part way through the corner and making you run wide on the exit. Good sight lines and a very late turn in are essential for this approach to work, and with practice can become 2nd nature.
The R6 on the other hand transcends such piffling details as changing geometry under braking and acceleration by countering the effects with quality suspension control. Where the CB400 is bouncing and pitching, the R6 wafts over the same imperfections without troubling its 7/10ths rider particularly much. The CB requires a considered approach to being ridden quickly, where the R6 demands that you ride hard enough to make its bits work correctly. I found myself being drawn back to a long forgotten world by the CB400, of desperately earned momentum, judicious braking, and bent throttle stops, with the odd “dodgy” overtake thrown into the bargain. Mind you mint green early ‘90s Porsche Carrera 2s should either be banned on taste grounds or driven a little bit harder than that. The R6 despatches Porsches with nary a blink, and the horizon almost as quickly. Maybe 2 blinks.
Funny thing is, both bikes make me smile. The CB400 produces an almost smug glow of dependability and a surety that thou art upon “reliable transport”. Not actually a bad thing when that’s what you bought it for. The R6 makes your hair spontaneously combust, and your smile isn’t so much a “happy, happy, joy, joy” expression, more a manic grimace with throbbing veins, a slightly bulging left eye, and a nervous tic that doesn’t go away when you stop riding it for at least a couple of days. Now if only I could find a single bike that does BOTH things for the psyche. Or a Government that registers the rider for the road, rather than the bike.