We all know the stereotypes about Harleys and their riders. God! Endless pages of it exist on KB and to be fair I’ve sneered at the thought of these ‘Hells Accountants’ and Gauffed at ‘Wild Hogs’ etc. But how many of us have actually ridden one? Um……
Fast rewind to last week – I’m out enjoying a mild Wellington autumn day with a lunchtime stroll around the block and as I amble past Wellington Motorcycles I trip over Pete McDonald drumming up custom on the footpath… According to Pete I apparently ‘have’ to take a Harley for a test ride… I say ‘no thanks Pete, not quite my thing’… He says Hey ‘ I know that, I’m not trying to sell it to you I just want you to ride it’…. (Yeah riiiight Pete) So anyway – I end up on this thing that kinda resembles a motorcycle that I’m used to. The wheels are in the right places and the controls sort of familiar but dear god – everything is soooo far away. The sticker on the rear vision mirror claims that objects in it are closer than they appear BUT the bloody footpegs aren’t. I wobble off into the Friday traffic with feet flailing about looking for them while I wrestle with a chopperesque 21” front wheel. I’m laughing and remembering those choppers we built back in the day. Difference is – this is one expensive motorcycle, its not mine and I’m shitting myself…. I feel the expectation of over a hundred years of HD tradition bearing down on me and decide I’d better man up….
I’m riding a new for 2011 ‘Blackline’
http://www.harley-davidson.com/en_AU....html#/gallery
I haven’t got a bloody clue where it fits into the line up or who its aimed at – I’m just trying not to aim it into a bus as 1st stop is work to pick up my shit and head home. Oh god – the ramp to the parking garage suddenly looks like an Olympic BMX ramp and I don’t really know where the brakes are… shit… It’s the end of the month and its work drinks – ‘Oh a HARLEY’. Shit – that says it ALL really. Honestly you could rock up on Burt Munros Indian and it wouldn’t matter shit – that HD name really does count for something…. Every woman in the place wants to sit on the back and go for a ride – I’m gobsmacked. I’m starting to really feel some pressure here.
I grab my stuff and hit the track for Kapiti and with every turn of the wheel its feeling a little more familiar and – actually – this isn’t so bad, brakes work, engines solid, clutch is predictable and I’ve even found the footpegs without wobbling… I relax enough to look around to see if anyones lookin at me…. Nope…. Bugger…
Eventually I’m brave enough to open the throttle and get down to it….. Interesting… There a few more ponies running around than I anticipated. Admittedly they are the sort more used to pulling coal carts but still… Predictably the arrival at the house flushes out every small boy in the area – and instantly they all know exactly what it is – amazing….
So – FF to Sunday and it’s the Classic Club ride and the reason I have the bike. Daughter #1 wants a ride and Vicki does not want to miss the club ride so a pre lunch spin is on the cards to keep everyone happy. The Harley takes it all in its stride – daughter cops a bee to the cheek but is still besotted with the bloody thing. I’m getting grumpy – I can’t compete with this long low orange lout of a thing, women throw themselves at it and forgive it any sin…. Gah!
Quick lunch and we hit the track for the city…. Light traffic and a sunny (but very chilly) day seems perfect for a spin. We peel off onto SHW1 and give the big orange beast its head. Bloody hell – it accelerates like a wardrobe full of rocks down the stairs. All rumble and drama and unstoppable – what a hoot…. Its in its element – this is what it does. At highway speeds it steers and rides really well. You can see how the bad boys peel em through the traffic and why they do it so quickly, its easier to keep it moving. Its less convincing pulling in for a wee and a coffee (in that order) on an uneven car park surface. The 30 degree rake and the 21” front means you have to apply a bit of muscle but I’m amazed how quickly you get used to it – the weight (306kg) melts away.
The guys at the classic club’s eyes bug out on arrival and thank god there are no more women leaping onto it and we head off around the bays. This is where the bikes one fault is uncovered. The road is appalling and the pillion in a million is so battered that she is in tears and we stop for her to recover her composure. Vicki puts a bit more weight on her legs and things improve – but not much.
Before we know it – its time to head back up the coast in the chill late afternoon air – again, as the speeds rise, the bike relaxes and everything starts to work a little better. It’s a belting thing to ride if its given some space.
So – whats it like?
Well - I dunno, better than you could possibly imagine I guess. Its super long (1670mm wheelbase) and super low so you wouldn’t expect to enter it into a trail ride or win the Rimutaka GP but that’s missing the point. If you want to do either of those things you buy a suitable mount. The length and layout do make it super stable at speed and I’ve never ridden a bike where a pillion has so little effect on the handling or is so well behaved in the nasty Wellington winds – solid!
Its fuel injection does the job – ABS works, it has a trip computer and a wizzy digital tach that tells me which of the 6 gears I’m in which is handy cos I can’t count past 4. The high tech stuff surprises me and illustrates that HD can do modern but choose to build what they do ‘cos that’s what their customers want.
To be fair, the engines not a smooth running dynamo but if it was it would detract from the whole experience – it just wouldn’t be a big harley without that big ole lump chortling away underneath you. When it get’s into its stride it really does chuffle and snort like a contented linebacker tucking into a tuna melt and giant fries – happy as a pig in shit really.
The handling is of course full of character but this is a long low custom so you cant ping it for that but be assured that it will do nearly anything you want as long as you ask it politely and in a little advance. I’m not sure how it would handle a nasty surprise because I didn’t ask it to but I have no doubt it would have impressed me by being more capable than I expected and not turning around with 45 drawn blowing my head off….
As befits a ‘custom’ the finish is astonishing – it is really hard to fault. The paint and chrome reek of real quality and with a little care should last for many many years. The orange finish didn’t appeal to me but everyone else seemed to REALLY like it.
To sum it up – once I got over myself and started to enjoy the experience this bike was WAAAY better to ride than I thought. Its stonking fun to ride and catching a shadow image of that profile below a setting sun caused me to catch my breath and think of Captain America and took me back to being a 16 year old kid hooning about on my rigid Triumph dreaming chopper dreams. This is one of the great motorcycles of the age, it didn’t change the game or take a second off a lap time – it wont be a ‘collectable’ and people wont talk about it in 50 years time. BUT as a fun machine to feed the human soul and lift the spirit it’s a belter. Bung on a better seat for Vicki and I could just be talked into it – but Pete knew that didn’t he – bastard….
Get into Wellington M/C’s and take it for a spin…..
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Oh bugger
Originally Posted by martybabe
Opinions are like arseholes: Everybody has got one, but that doesn't mean you got to air it in public all the time....
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