Finn and Greg Do IMS DC

I’d been looking forward to the IMS Washington DC Motorcycle Show. I’ll admit that I’m not much of a motorcycle show guy – I’m more of a motorcycle ride guy. This was different, though. My normal wintertime motorcycle fix is supplied by the Traditional Timonium Motorcycle Show (Hon!) — which is a combination dealership demand generation and discounting imbroglio, custom bike and chopper/artbike show, and no holds barred monster swapmeet. I’ve found some of my favorite hand tools in that swapmeet. The Timonium show is crowded, chaotic — the parking lot is a freaking deathmatch — and, like nearby Baltimore, is a little bit gritty and human scale.

The Timonium Show is for bikers, hon, and ain’t no bones about it.

The IMS motorcycle shows, on the other hand, are a bit higher production values, have participation by the motorcycle manufacturers, and — at least to my IMS-inexperienced eyes — appeared to be the big time.

Because of my increasing communication and coordination with the Press and PR people from the motorcycle manufacturers, it was clear the IMS was where the deals got done – it was kind of a rolling moto-convention that – if you were lucky – came to your town and allowed you some real face time — a rare modern occurrence — with one’s buds in the business.

I’d been getting the e-mails — “If you’re going to be in Long Beach…”. “Next Week in Miami…”, so I set my plans, got my credentials, and wrote it in thick Sharpie marker on all the calendars.




When the appointed weekend finally arrived, I spent a little time fishing to see who might want to go with me. Sweet Doris from Baltimore evinced little to no interest – it was a opportunity for a ‘Girls’ Day Out’ for her and our daughter. Finn, on the other hand, was all up and all in, so a boy’s bonding day it would be. Although Friday was the so-called ‘Press Day’, Finn had classes, so we settled on Saturday, and set the bones of our plan.

Saturday morning — with a 24 degree start — I drove my Ford down to Finn’s place in Greenbelt, picked him up at his front door, and drove us both 3/4s of a mile to the adjacent metro station.

Greenbelt is the end of the line, so there was a train sitting on the platform when we walked in. We got on the train, sat down, and five minutes later the train started talking — “I am a seven thousand series train… please step away from the left side doors….” — and 25 minutes later we exited the train at a metro station that was technically inside of the convention center building where the show was being held.


The Walter E. Washington Washington DC Convention Center is absolutely enormous. There are at least 2, and maybe 4 main exhibition spaces. There are also somewhere north of 180 large meeting rooms — enough to ‘Death by Powerpoint’ the entire population of Earth. Inside this cavernous complex, the IMS Show — filling most of a single hall — rattles around in the Convention Center like a beer can pull tab that accidentally fell in the can. After a brief stop at the Press Credentials booth – where I introduced Finn – who was holding the camera – as ‘my photographer’ – we got our pair of press passes and entered the hall.

Look, if a little stunt was good enough for Hunter S. Thompson at the ‘Mint 400’, then it is damn well good enough for us.

Well, it’s certainly bright and shiny….

The American Honda set-up was right inside the door. They had brought pretty much everything they made – which was great, as it afforded us the chance to eyeball and butt-test a lot of models about which we had questions. I rolled up to the their booth to check in with the Press Liason, Collin Miller. The Honda Men politely informed me that Mr. Miller had grabbed an earlier flight home yesterday.

If your life had Microsoft Windows Error Sounds, this one would have gone “GLAAANK!”. Meeting with Colin was one of my primary IMS objectives, and it had been apparently wiped clean by the prospect of another Saturday back in Southern California.

I resolved to just roll with it, but it did set the tone for the rest of the day.

The Africa Twin Adventure Sports – A Motorcycle I Previously Lusted Badly Until I ‘Sat’ on It

I went straight to the Africa Twin Adventure Sports. I really wanted to love this motorcycle. And I really could love this motorcycle, if riding never, ever, involved stopping. After managing to throw a leg cleanly over the bike without breaking a hip, Finn and I were more or less hopelessly consumed by laughter, after the near impossibility of me getting my feet, or even a foot, solidly on the ground became apparent. My old days racing bicycles taught me to track stop — to sit on a two wheeler at a completely standstill. On the ATAS, I managed to sit, stopped, with at least a full two inches of air under each boot. We would have pictures but the photographer was laughing too hard to achieve critical sharpness.

The NC750X – possibly one of the most practical motorcycles on the planet. Between huge storage space in the ‘tank’, optional DCT and 70+ mpg, commuting warrior me would definitely want one of these

The 2019 Kawasaki Supercharged H2R: I don’t know whether these gobsmacked guys were looking at the horsepower rating or the price, but either way, ‘Sticker Shock’ definitely applies.


Kawasaki W800 – Kawa returns to its roots with a ‘Britbike’ style vertical twin. Nice, but not $4000 nicer than the Royal Enfield 650 I just tested.

Finn Tries The ‘This Might Just Be Too Small For You’ Section of the Kawasaki Booth.

Suzuki Doesn’t Phone It In – A mint condition 1981 Katana 1100. The bike that the R90S designer, Hans Muth, designed next. “PLEASE DO NOT Sit on Bike.”

The 2019 Katana. Pretty cool. But.

If you’re going to do more than phone it in, you might as well bring Alex Rins MotoGP Bike. Ho hum.

That’s a lot of Carbon

Would YOU be comfortable with that open clutch basket spinning at 18,000 rpm just in front of your toe?

Yeah, another picture of it, cause, Gawwd, look at it.


It was at this point that something struck me. It wasn’t so much about all the motorcycle manufacturers that were here, but at all the one’s that weren’t. Motorcycle manufacture is actually a pretty small business, with perhaps about 12 major manufacturers. So it’s great, that Honda, Kawasaki and Suzuki flew the flag at DC IMS. Oh, and my buds at electric motorcycle maker Zero, were too, down at the other, more interesting end of the hall.

But here are the OEMs that took a pass on DC, as a show destination: Harley Davidson, Indian/Polaris, Yamaha, Triumph, KTM, Ducati, MotoGuzzi, Aprilia and Royal Enfield. Now some of these brands were represented by local dealers, but the makers were not there to talk to riders and generate their own buzz. Heck, the only BWW in the whole place was a rat rod 1973 R60 that was in the small custom bike show. I don’t know if this was a lack of confidence in DC as a market, or for the IMS show or US market in general, but I have to think that some of the no-shows were in places like Long Beach and Miami.

The Vintage Guys Score Points: A Nice 1965 Matchless G15 – Bit of a Norton Mash-up with a Norton Atlas engine.

One of Three Really Nice Norton Commandos: Our Photographer Did Opine That The Vintage Guys Had More Appealing Help at Their Booths.

One Local Dealer Displayed This Lovely Ducati Scrambler Cafe Racer – One has to Love The California Hot Rod Colorway.


At the other end of the hall, Finn and I sought out Robert Pandya, who was running the ‘Discover the Ride’ attraction — an unthreatening, inviting, easy entrance to learning to ride. Robert had worked with IMS, with Zero Motorcycles and with Total Control Training to put people who had never ridden before in the saddles of some Zero Electric Motorcycles. The Zeros, of course, have complete software configurability via any bluetooth smartphone or tablet. So these trainers, with the standard no transmission, no clutch direct drive of all Zeros, had their engine outputs dialed way back and their road speed limited to a point where even a brand new rider could have them circling the indoor track confidently in about three minutes. Personally, when I had my Zero test bike, I used the Zero App to turn the whole bike up to 11s, and might have never thought of this, but it makes perfect sense — a stroke of genius. Robert told us that Discover the Ride had the longest line at the show — a 90 minute wait that stretched all the way to the other end of the hall — and he did. More importantly, their information was showing fantastic conversion rates — up to 65% of the folks that took their first ride were planning to buy their first bike – “65% of folks that take the ride come in thinking that motorcyclists are ‘other people’, and leave thinking that they are.”

Robert is absolutely driven to get new people involved in motorcycling. Like a lot of folks who employ oblique strategies and who are well out in front of conventional thinking, the hardest part is in getting less astute people to just open up their minds and listen to the idea. In 10-12 weeks of running Discover The Ride Robert has helped make thousands of new motorcyclists. Industry heavyweights just need to look at the numbers and then figure out how to do lots more of this.

Another local dealer — Motorcycles of Dulles — was at the show with some Indian and Triumph motorcycles.

Indian FTR 1200 Street Tracker with Carbon Fiber Body Kit. Ooooh.

New Triumph Speed Twin. Thuxton Go with Bonneville Seating Position. Also Ooooh.

The Thruxton R – Upside Down Ohlins forks, Ohlins shocks, Brembo Radial Brakes. Perhaps Two Oooohs.

This Young Man Has Fine Taste In Motor Cycles.

Alloy strap tank, polished upper triple clamp, monza gas gap. How long do you think it will take to remove the safety message decals.


At this point, Finn and I were more hungry for a burger, having bikeshowed through lunch, than we were for any more motorcycles, so we Yelped up a joint called the District Tap house, which looked to have a great Tap Line, and had the additional benefit of being open at 4:30 on a Saturday afternoon.

As we walked the block and a half to our burger, we came up behind two guys that were wearing every conceivable piece of KTM Sportswear — orange KTM logo jackets, hoodies, adventure boots, buffalo plad hipster lumberjack shirts done in KTM Orange — the works. Both of them had their head hanging down and displayed body language that looked like somebody had just shot their dog — there hadn’t been a single KTM in the entire show.

“Look Finn — it’s the two saddest KTM riders in the entire world.”

“Oh yeah. Heh.”

So, motorcycle companies that didn’t come to DC. Your fans showed up. Where were you?


The Traveler — 2018 Honda Gold Wing Tour DCT

In the Beginning, there was my motorcycle.

Right after I learned to ride it, I went places.

Places like New Mexico and Arizona, Alabama, Kentucky, The Carolinas and Tennessee. The Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and The Trans-Canada Highway.

From my home in Maryland, any of these places are more than a few tank-to-tank rides.

When I have to travel for work, if the destination is less than 1000 miles from home I will usually find ways to ride, rather than fly.

I’m a motorcycle traveler, because I know that out there, somewhere between your 13th hour and your third day in the saddle, everything you know and everything you believe will suddenly illuminate and align, and you will attain enlightenment and inner peace.

Riders that feel the way I do are a weird brother- and sisterhood – the monks and sisters of the meditative road.

It’s for this kind of rider that Honda designed the new Gold Wing.

Pretty Sweet, For A Blue Bike

My previous exposure to Gold Wings had been extremely limited. A riding friend asked me to evaluate a vintage ‘Wing that had been listed for sale in my neighborhood.  The bike turned out to be a perfectly maintained, completely original 1976 GL1000.

With the original GL, Honda simply set out to build the best motorcycle ever built, and started out with some of the same design assumptions that helped to create my beloved air-cooled BMW boxer. Those assumptions were so close that the original Gold Wing prototype had actually used many of the components from my motorcycle – pretty much everything rearward of the Honda M1’s bell housing was a BMW /5 component – transmission, rear subframe, shaft final drive, rear wheel (with it’s dead-giveaway chrome hubcap), saddle and exhaust.

1972 Gold Wing Prototype – 6 Cylinders and lots of BMW /5 Parts


So it’s no surprise that my favorite motorcycle and the newly born Gold Wing came to the road with very same qualities in mind – weight carried low and forward in the frame, low roll moment, stable frames and long, long legs.

The GL I’d been asked to check out was perfect – complete service records back to delivery, and period correct matching Vetter Windjammer and cases. The bike was red – the Vetters were bright white – all the maintenance had been done – and the bike appeared to run well. I’d have no problem telling my friend he could have confidence buying this old motorcycle. When the seller found out I’d never ridden a Gold Wing though, he insisted that I ride the motorcycle, even though I explained (a few times) that I didn’t intend to buy it.

1976 GL 1000 with Vetter Windjammer and Cases

Would you have told him no? Didn’t think so.

I hadn’t ridden the GL more than 50 yards before I was completely comfortable on it – weight low, sit up riding position, sure-footed handling, and the incredibly broad spread of big drive torque. On the mountain roads around Jefferson – Fry and Mountville Roads – that original ‘Wing carved as well as many 30 years newer motorcycles I’d ridden. The indelible impression I had of the bike was that its engine was so well balanced and so refined that it almost disappeared in use. I’ll admit that my personal tastes might have preferred a different character for my motor, but there was no question that the original GL was an engineering masterpiece, and one of the short list of truly classic motorcycles.

Honda’s customers felt the same, and had demonstrated what they wanted from their Gold Wings. The Bike that Honda delivered in 1975 as a 4 cylinder, 1000cc, 650 lb. naked motorcycle were dressed with Vetter fairings and luggage and taken to the long road. Honda got that message, loud and clear – by 1980, the GL came with factory fairing and cases. Successive ‘Wings got bigger, heavier, and more complex – eventually growing to 6 cylinders and 1800 ccs – I believe one Aspencade model even featured an onboard air compressor.

As the GL grew, though, it put distance on the agility and elemental quality that the original GL1000 had delivered.

And Honda got that message too.

So they decided to do what they have always done. Which is to design something better.

Standing in front of the new Gold Wing, I get a very clear visual signal. The Gold Wing has always been Honda’s flagship touring motorcycle. The now-discontinued ST1300 was their Sport Touring bike. The new GL1800 looks like the love-child of the Old GL and the ST1300 – the new bike is smaller, narrower, more angular – the prominence of the engine, the shape of the shield, fairing, headlamps and cockpit combine to create the impression that the two motorcycles’ DNA had somehow been combined. And to anyone with a lot of ground to cover in one big hurry it’s hard to understand how that could be anything but a good thing.

The engine of the new ‘Wing is where everything starts. The 1833 cc motor is a water-cooled, boxer 6 cylinder of square design – with a 73mm bore and a 73 mm stroke – with a single overhead cam and four valves per cylinder. The engine uses coil on cap ignition and a single, shared 50mm throttle body to produce tuned intake behavior and fuel efficiency. Every dimension of the engine has been optimized during the new design to reduce dimensions and mass and optimize mass centralization. Features like a combined starter/generator illustrate the focus on mass reduction.

1833 ccs of Boxer 6 Cylinder


The Gold Wing’s engine design has a different set of requirements than that of many motorcycle motors. The emphasis is on torque, and maintaining big torque numbers across the entire operating range, and this GL delivers on that request – the ‘torque curve’ for this bike is more like a ‘torque flat’ — delivering over 100 pound feet from under 1000 rpm to its 6000 rpm redline. On the road, the engine delivers solid punch everywhere, although there is no power step at the top of the rev band.


Paging Mr. Hossack – Mr. Hossack to the Courtesy Phone

The bike’s suspension and running gear have also been thoroughly redesigned. For the front suspension, Honda has included a Hossack-type double wishbone – with a central, electrically adjustable shock absorber – with rotation of the fork controlled by a set of tie rods that link bank to the motorcycle’s steering bridge. This design permits the movement of the front wheel to be constrained to a vertical axis – compared to a telescopic fork, which allows the wheel to move simultaneously up and to the rear – and allows the engine to be moved further forward in the frame for handling advantages. The complete absence of stiction in the system’s linkages allow for astounding levels of compliance as road imperfections are encountered – plus it’s also fun to watch the movement of the fork and linkages though their fairing cutouts inside the bike’s cockpit. Rear suspension can be automatically adjusted for preload from the cockpit controls when not in motion.

6 Piston Brake Calipers for Honda’s Linked Braking System

Braking is handled by Honda’s proprietary linked ABS braking system. 320 mm twin front disks are gripped by a six piston set of calipers, and a 312 mm rear disk is gripped by a three piston unit. The center pistons in each caliper are cross plumbed to the system at the other end of the bike so that activation of the front lever pressurizes the outer four pistons in the front brakes and the center piston in the rears – while use of the rear brake pedal works the outer two pistons in the rear and the center pistons in the fronts. Braking bias – front to rear – is variable and managed electronically. The system is a dramatic improvement over prior versions I have ridden – at speed, operation is transparent and trail braking to set up corner entries using only the rear pedal is now possible again. Dual Clutch Transmission (DCT) models get a second, cable-operated rear caliper that serves as a parking brake, since the DCT design precludes sticking the bike in gear to prevent it rolling away.

What’s that extra Brake Caliper For?

The Gold Wing’s aerodynamics are state-of-the-art. The narrow fairing features an electrically adjustable windscreen – controlled from a switch on the left handlebar cluster. Honda’s use of fluid dynamics software and the wind tunnel are on clear display here – the shapes of the rearview mirrors and the structures that connect them to the fairing are clearly designed to control vortices coming off the edge of the screen, and it clearly works. Many touring fairings make use of either width or height to keep the rider’s head in clear air at speed – sometimes forcing the pilot to look through the screen. The GL1800’s, in contrast, provides clean air around the rider’s head when the screen is lowered below the pilot’s sightline – this is aerodynamic magic of the finest kind.

Honda Finally Implements an Electrically Adjustable Windshield — it was Worth The Wait

Other functional touches abound. The bike has heated grips and saddles, and a perfect glovebox in the tank top. The all LED headlamp arrays look suspiciously like their cousins from the new Acura automobiles – with each lamp – left and right — having 5 LED projectors. Absolutely no one will be looking for accessory driving lights for this motorcycle. Honda gets 6 thumbs up for the horn – which has the same punch in the gut breathtaking impact of the one on the Amtrak Acela. There is a full complement of Infotainment functions accessed through an LED screen in the center of the instrument panel – NAV/GPS, trip computer, Bluetooth phone/music integration, Apple Car Play, and detailed performance and status displays. The bike has Electronic Cruise Control and an integrated set of ride modes which control pre-set combinations of power output, traction control, linked braking front/rear bias, suspension valving and transmission shift points.

While there are less of them than there were on the previous model, there are still a great many buttons on the handlebar clusters and on the bike’s instrument panel. You will be needing some acclimation time.

The GL’s built in luggage is perhaps the one area where progress is a little tougher to identify. All three cases have electromagnetic latches, and all of mine kept throwing false positive ‘Bag Open’ messages, forcing me to dismount and latch the case again. Overall, the bike’s luggage – like every other part of this motorcycle — has been optimized for drag – pulled in tight to the rear wheel and streamlined to an extent never before envisioned. Even the top surface of the top case has been teardropped – obviously the voice of the wind tunnel, again speaking loud. The GL has two 30 liter side cases and a 50 liter top case for a total of 110 liters total capacity. This is a reduction of 30 liters capacity from the old bike – and while in principle, the reduction in mass and the improvements in aerodynamic efficiency make engineering sense, in practice, the folks that buy motorcycles like this are going to find it less functional.

It’s Not Big In There

Things that fit in every other hard case I have ever used – my overnighter shoulder bag, a helmet – will not fit inside the GL’s cases. All three cases have unusual interior shapes that seem to further limit their utility. If you buy this bike you’re absolutely going to need Honda’s accessory bag liners to carry anything. People who commute or travel for work on their motorcycle – I mean, this is a really nice motorcycle – you’d ride it to work if you could – won’t be able to store their riding gear in the bike while working. People who really pack up and live off their motorcycle – carrying camping gear, bedroll – will look at Honda’s stylish top case-mounted accessory luggage rack and laugh, or maybe cry, depending. I can understand that Honda might want their target market to travel with just a credit card and their iPhone, but there’s also lots of potential riders that want to be self-sufficient, and need to take stuff with them when they go.

Our test unit also had Honda’s Dual Clutch Transmission (DCT), which is a 7 speed, electronically controlled gearbox – a gearbox which can be operated either as an automatic controlled by the computer, or manually by the rider via a set of paddle shifters located again, on that busy left bar cluster. The DCT brings with it a slow speed forward and reverse system called ‘walking mode’ – which sounds kind of foofy until the first time you have to park the bike in tight confines and it makes child’s play of it.

“So ride the bike already, willya?”

The Gold Wing riding experience is spookily space age right from the get go. As you approach the motorcycle with the key fob in your pocket, the bike’s central control switch will start to glow – cycling its LED brighter and darker – to indicate it has detected your presence. Rotate the main switch once to the right, and the electronic steering stem lock unlocks – rotate it a second time and the ‘Wing’s ignition turns on. When the systems finish booting, operate the ‘run/don’t run’ switch on the right bar to the run position, and the bike will start itself. The default run mode is ‘Tour’ mode with the DCT set to ‘Automatic’.

At idle, the engine sounds busy and purposeful. If it sounds like there is a lot going on down there – with fuel pump whine, injector noise, and a whistling exhaust note at idle, six cylinders, overhead cams, and 24 valves – it’s because there IS a lot going on down there. Press the ‘Neutral/Drive’ switch on the right bar – which produces a nice solid sounding ‘thunk’ as the primary clutch engages – and either leave it in ‘Automatic’ or press the ‘Auto/Manual’ selector switch to select manual mode, where you make the shift decisions.

Roll the throttle open, the clutch smoothly engages, and you’re riding away, wondering what you’re going to ever learn to do with “The Hand Formerly Known As Your Clutch Hand”. In ‘Tour’ mode, the motorcycle short shifts, sometimes shifting as high as 5th gear before 40 mph. Low speed handling is breezily perfect – in my first few moments of acclimation I decided to take a few loops in a parking lot before jumping out into suburban Baltimore traffic – and was quickly giggling in my helmet at how easily the bike handled low speed circles and figure eights – the bike’s 29 in saddle height, low center of gravity and predicable clutch application quickly took all the customary drama out of the “Big Bike /Low Speed” situation.

Once the road opens up, though, let’s face it, magic happens. This GL is as willing to turn in and as light on its feet as anything with a boxer 6 spinning beneath you could possibly be. The new front end is optimized for compliance – the steering tie rods visible in the cockpit show how hard the fork girder is working, but none of the shock and impact comes through to the rider. There were times – either on bad quality Interstate pavement or slinging pretty elevated cornering loads when I would have opted for slightly more damping, but overall the comfort and control of the system is stellar.

Once up in top gear – running 7th gear at about 2500 rpm – the boxer is just smooth enough to ride from tank-to-tank until one gets to, say, Albuquerque. Honda, to their credit, has not smoothed all of character out of this motor – like other new Hondas it does communicate its personality in a way that is only appealing. It has some growl in it where its vintage forefather had none. Those tank to tank stints will be about 225 miles or so before its time to look for a pump. Our GL averaged just over 42 mpg during the time of our test.

The Ride Modes of the motorcycle make a substantial difference in the character of the bike. ‘Tour’ mode is focused on smooth operation – with the DCT in auto mode short shifting, damping set to compliant settings and throttle response smoothed out. ‘Tour’ keeps the rpms low – so low that the engine takes on a grumbly quality at times because it’s really running a gear or two or even three too high. But switch over to ‘Sport’ mode and all that gets blown away. The RPMs come up – it feels like a full 20% of output gets unleashed there – throttle response sharpens, suspension is stiffened, and when this motor’s revs get into the happy middle you can turn the bike as you wish on the gas.

During our road tests, we ran a long stretch of US-50 coming east from Keyser, West Virginia – a road that just throws endless hills and corners at you, and after a few hundred miles of dancing with the twisting yellow line, it felt like we should turn around and run it a few more times, just for fun.

Gold Wings were always about getting there, and comfortably, if possible. The stress-free ergonomics, weather protection, and monster driveline in the new GL1800 have ensured that that part has not changed. But this motorcycle has been sharpened up, and goes harder, stops better, corners better and looks for a way to get there faster, and to have more dynamic fun doing it.

With this new Gold Wing, you’ll be looking for whole states to turn around and run again, just for fun.




Portions of this Story originally appeared in the September/October 2018 Edition of Motorcycle Times Magazine.

An extended riding impression of the new ‘Wing was published in ‘Noah’.




Nice Water Drops, Eh?


I had a bible as a kid, and I read it a lot.

Now please don’t judge me, but I approached The Book more as literature than as an expression of faith.

I’m an Irish Arab Jew, for Chrissake, so I hope I can be forgiven for some ambivalence or confusion in matters of faith.

Anyway, work with me here.

I mean, there are some ripping yarns in The Bible. Light splitting the darkness. The parting of the sea. 40 days and forty nights of rain, the building of the Ark, and the waters wiping a sinful and displeasing earth clean and new in the eyes of its creator.

We may not be up to 40 nights yet, but I’ve been starting to think about a boat.




I’ve been working for about six months to get set up with the PR Team at American Honda Motorcycles. There are more than a few bikes they make that look to be really compelling. The CB500F that I helped my son Finn buy has proved surprisingly capable and fun to ride. During our planning conversations we’d talked about the Africa Twin. The NC750X. And the Gold Wing.

It didn’t take long to figure out that The Honda Men really want people to talk about the Gold Wing. And so really wanted me to ride one.

I’ll come clean. I ride a big touring motorcycle, and it is neither the simplest or least expensive thing in the world to take care of. Honda reliability is real, and in the event of the demise of my current motorcycle it is not outside the realm of possibility that I would replace it with a Gold Wing. Especially if, for example, the ‘Wing was a much better riding motorcycle.

So The Honda Men wanted me to test the bike, to see if I could help them sell more of their biggest selling motorcycle, which they acknowledge they hadn’t been selling anywhere near enough of lately. And I wondered if they had been able to raise a bar that had been pretty high to start with, high enough to have me convulsively clutching for my checkbook.

So our interests overlapped. The hands were shook. Now we just needed to figure out how to make it happen.




Shit always happens.

In my worklife, project schedules that turn into geologic eras are kind of widely shared in-joke.

In ‘Project Wing’ plenty of excrement occurred – things that were scheduled got rescheduled, commitments that got made got broke. I was starting to think the whole thing was one big set up — a way to get my hopes up and never actually get there.

Then, there was the rain.

This year, Central Maryland has had more rain than I can remember seeing in my entire life. We’ve experienced these crazy giant size stationary fronts that freighttrain insanely intense thunderstorms — one after another — for 10-15 days at a time. These storms have rain rates in the 2-4 inch an hour range.

The original plan had been to take the ‘Wing to a conference I had to attend in Nashville — a 1300 mile or so round trip up and down the spine of the Blue Ridge sounded like a perfect way to understand a traveller’s motorcycle. When the ‘Wing got delayed, I had no issue making the trip on my own bike, but the weather had gone insane, washing out roads and bridges hereabouts, literally remaking all of our streambeds, dropping tons of lumber, destroying nearby Ellicott City (for the second time), and making safe travel, two- or four-wheel, nearly impossible.

Score: Weather One, Shamieh 0.

So, since I had some moto-bandwidth available, I took advantage of the opportunity to write about a new Indian Roadmaster.  The Roadmaster deal was a short term eval — over a stretched three-day weekend. Predictably, the only time it stopped raining was when I was taking it back.

As an aside – I am not much of an appearence-care motorcyclist. I try to buy bikes that have a minimum of chrome and brightwork that someone will expect me to shine and be disappointed in that expectation. But the Roadmaster, which was a brand new, out of the crate motorcycle, was an absolute orgy of chrome, two-tone paint and polished surfaces, and got an absolute thrashing through about 350 miles of frog-strangling, gully washing, roostertail throwing, boat waking insane rain.

On the plus side, I can vouch for the Roadmaster’s excellent fairing and great roadholding in conditions that had professional truckers pulling off to the side of the Interstate. On the other side of the coin though, that motorcycle probably still wasn’t cleaned back up after three days of rag snapping, and the dealership guys that had to detail that motorcycle are probably still pissed at me.

Score: Weather Two. Shamieh still zip. We’ll be right back after a word from our sponsor.

So, finally, after more stops and starts than I -270 on the way into DC on a Monday morning, I finally set a time and a date certain to pick up my long-anticipated Gold Wing. The plan had me picking up the bike at the studios of Maryland Public Television, in Owings Mills, Maryland — about 55 miles from the shop here in Jefferson. The previous journalist to test ride the bike had been Brian Robinson — who does the ‘Two Wheelin’ motorcycle segment on MPT’s ‘Motor Week’.

The whole setup felt a bit improvisational — I had a street address, the name of the Security Officer on duty, and the descriptive phrase ‘The Bike would be in The Garage.’

After she registered a minuscule amount of complaint, I was able to convince Sweet Doris from Baltimore that she’d drive me to Owings Mills to pick up the ‘Wing. After an uneventful drive in I-70, we found ourselves rolling up the wooded driveway at Maryland Public Television just as the sun was going down. MPT’s headquarters looks exactly like a college campus — lots of low brick buildings, clustered together in a wooded glen, surrounded by a ring drive and lots of parking lots. We rolled the pickup up to the front door, and, since it was after business hours, rang for the security officer on duty.

After a delay just long enough to feel awkward, Officer John rang me in, and I introduced myself and my mission at MPT. I’d been assured that everybody knew I was coming, and that everything was in readiness. This of course, in hindsight, is absolutely the kiss of death.

Officer John knit his brows for a minute, mumbled something about thinking I was supposed to have been there this morning, and then asked if that was my truck outside the door.

After answering in the affirmative, John sold me he would grab his keys and lead us ‘down to the garage, as driving would be quicker’.

We followed John’s car around the corner and down the hill, and pulled into a driveway leading up to a grey steel industrial building. Over the door was a small stamped steel sign that read ‘Goss’ Garage’. John activated the power garage door and lead us inside.

I am not much of a TV enthusiast, but I have always watched Motor Week whenever the opportunity presented itself. Motor Week is the longest running motorhead show on American Television — presented in the form of a TV magazine — reviews of one or two new automobiles, an occasional motorcycle review, special interest pieces and ‘Goss’ Garage’ . Pat Goss is your friendly local expert mechanic — and does his piece – things like “How to Maintain Your Automatic Transmission” — from a set that looks like the idealized garage… lots of toolboxes, lifts, almost always at least one car with its hood up, metal signs from Car and component suppliers, and a fair amount of black and white checkered decor.

And now, instead of watching it, here we were.

I’ve had the experience before of being on the set of a familiar television show, and it’s always the same. Everything feels creepily familiar, but it’s always smaller than you think it should be, the colors appear off compared to their TV images, and, weirdly, it almost always smells funny. This version played out point for point from that comfortable script.

In the middle of my Goss Groupie reverie, though, I slowly became aware of the Gold Wing sitting in the corner at the very back of the set. The bike was what Honda calls ‘Pearl Hawkseye Blue’ — what we’d think of as a Royal Blue — that Honda had additionally styled with some decals — contour lines of an increasingly lighter shade of silver grey — which had the net effect of fooling the eye into seeing more contours to the saddle and top cases, and fairing side panels — that were actually there. It actually looks way better than it sounds.

Pretty Sweet, For A Blue Bike

The first impression of the bike was that it is clearly smaller, narrower, lower to the ground, and generally more compact than any Gold Wing in recent memory. In that restyling, the bike’s 1833 cc, single overhead cam, 4-valve boxer six cylinder motor had become visually a lot more prominent. The bike has an athletic stance where older ‘Wings were not getting off the couch. The fairing’s windscreen – now electrically adjustable – is a lot narrower and more tapered than its prior incarnation. The shape of the rearview mirrors and the structures that connect them back into the body of the motorcycle are clearly intended to manage vortices coming off the edges of the shield and provide hand protection and clean air in the cockpit.

It was clearly time to stop moto-overthinking, fire this bad boy up and go burn some gas.

And we’d have done that, too, if anybody had had a key.

After determining that the bike’s intelligent key fob was not within the motorcycle’s sensor range, I asked John if he knew where the key was. He told me he’d need to check back at the security desk and perhaps call Brian, if that didn’t bear fruit. Brian’s Arai helmet, gloves and leather jacket were on the table next to the bike, so, trying to put myself in the key fob’s shoes, I checked the pockets of the jacket, just in case the fob had stayed just where Honda’s description of the system’s function says it should always stay. No joy, though.

With John back inside HQ, I spent a few more awkward moments kicking imaginary rocks and checking out those bits of the ‘Wing that I could see in the dim light of The Garage.

Quickly, though, John returned bearing a standard Number 10 envelope with my name written on it and a pretty obvious fob bulge at the bottom. Bingo.

I told John I would move the bike out into the driveway, then pull my ‘Stich, helmet and gloves out of the truck to gear up for the ride home.

At this point I was genuinely thankful for the links to familiarization videos that Colin Miller — American Honda’s Press liaison — had provided. Between the Intelligent keyless ignition, the multi-level menuing system that makes up the bike’s instrument panel, and the controls for Honda’s Dual Clutch Transmission (DCT) — which have absolutely nothing in common with any motorcycle you may have ridden before — the acclimatization curve was very steep.

We shall not speak, for now, of the layout of the switches on the bike’s left and right handlebar control pods. My 1973 BMW has exactly one multi-purpose switch on each handlebar. This was absolutely not that. Taking one’s first ride just after dark was not going to help, either, in identifying and learning the many controls. On the way home there were several times where I would have liked to have had the horn as one of my available options, but never did find it until I looked in the daylight the following day.

Approaching the bike in the back of The Garage, when the Gold Wing detected that the keyless ignition fob was within range, the bike’s main switch began cycling its LED light from dim to bright and back again. I rotated the main switch once to the right to make sure that the ignition lock was retracted, then threw a leg over and pulled the bike up off the sidestand. The ‘Wing was easy to lift, with the effects of the low, balanced location of the motor and underseat fuel tank clearly making the bike easy to handle at a stop or walking speeds. I turned the main switch to the right again, than the bike’s systems powered on and booted up. I pressed the kill/run switch to the ‘run’ position, and the big boxer six lit off.

At idle, the Wing’s six cylinder engine is an internal combustion symphony. With both heads well out in the open, one can hear all of the many moving parts — fuel pump and injector whine, 6 pistons, cam chains, intake growl, 2 camshafts, with 24 vavles opening and closing, a slight burble from the exhaust — there’s just a lot going on in that engine bay.

I pressed the DCT’s control button for ‘Drive’ – leaving the bike in ‘Automatic’ mode – and the first clutch of the transmission’s dual clutches dropped into gear with a solid thunk. I applied some gentle throttle, and the bike’s automatic clutch smoothly engaged and I was rolling slowly towards the door.

After running about 40 feet down the driveway, I let off the throttle, gently applied some front brake and the bike clutched out automatically and came to a stop. I hit the ‘kill’ switch and set the bike back onto the sidestand. Because of the tropical conditions — it was 78 degrees out with a dewpoint of 76 — the minute the bike came out of the air-conditioned interior its cooled off surfaces instantly started collecting condensation, and every surface of the bike was instantly soaked with water.

The Gold Wing wouldn’t see anything remotely resembling dry for quite some time.




While pulling on my gear, I told Sweet Doris from Baltimore that she would likely beat me home — that I wanted to get a feel for 800+ pounds of ‘Wing on some secondary roads and surface streets before rolling onto the Interstate. Of most concern was the bike’s behavior when starting from standing still and coming to a stop — the operation of the bike’s automatic clutch and transmission was, for a now, a total unknown, and I prefer to meet the unknown someplace other than in the middle of heavy traffic. Sweet D and our pickup rolled out of sight while I finished strapping on my Shoei and cinching down my favorite elkskin gauntlets.

Other people’s big expensive motorcycles should, and do, make me nervous.

After a few moments of cleansing breaths to calm myself, I rotated the ‘Wing’s main switch to the right, watched the ‘Gold Wing’ boot up animation, read the ‘Motorcycles Can Hurt You So Please Pay Attention When You Use This Screen’ disclaimer from the Honda Lawyers, and then rocked the ‘run’ switch to on. With the big boxer whistling away down below, I spent a few moments checking that the rearview mirrors were properly adjusted, trying to familiarize myself with the locations of the switches on the control pods, then pressed the DCT’s ‘Drive’ control switch, and gently gave it some gas.

Fortunately, MPT’s campus was the perfect acclimation environment — in fact, its laid out almost identically to Frederick Community College, where the local Motorcycle Safety Foundation Beginning Riders Course is taught. I rolled around the ring road, working the bike back and forth underneath me, toward the rear of the campus, were the road connects a series of substantial parking lots. I headed to the center of the largest one, and then did a few starts and stops with the bike, to get a feel for the engagement and disengagement of the automatic clutch, which of course, operated flawlessly. The I did a few Os and figure eights, which were so trivially easy — given the size of the bike — that I was literally laughing in my helmet. My anxiety was clearly misplaced, and I headed back out for the road.

The driveway of the MPT complex is a long, gentle, wooded slope of about a third of a mile in length. With the falling temperatures, there was some mist starting to form about halfway to the treetops. I gently rolled the ‘Wing down the slope, on minimal throttle. As we rolled down the driveway, the DCT ran the bike up through the gears — making all of the same noises — ka-chokk, ka-chokk, ka-chokk– and most of the same sensations as any normal motorcycle gearbox — except that the rider — Me! — wasn’t doing any of the normal things that make those sounds happen — no gear shift lever — no clutch — nothing.

It was positively weird.

As I got to the bottom of the driveway and approached the intersection with the highway, as I braked, the DCT ran back down through the gears and then clutched in automatically as the bike came to a stop. Had you been sitting across the highway watching this, you’d have seen my left hand flapping spasmodically as it made clutchy – clutchy motions for a clutch this motorcycle doesn’t have. Having spent some significant seat time with a Zero electric motorcycle, which doesn’t even have a transmission, much less a clutch, my brain understood this on an intellectual level, but muscle memory is a strong thing to be reckoned with, and right now, anyway, muscle memory was winning.

Owings Mills Boulevard is a pretty bog normal suburban American road – flat, wide, featureless — an endless strip of concrete. At about 8:30 in the evening, there were only a few cars about. Not knowing the motorcycle at all, I waited for a nice open space of road, then rolled the throttle open, leaned the bike to the left and pointed it up the road.

Set in ‘Tour’ mode, the ‘Wing uses a gentle power map that combines gradual throttle response with a short shifting DCT profile. Holding about one third throttle, the transmission grabs the next gear before the big engine clears 2000 rpm. There’s tons of torque, so it doesn’t really affect progress down the road any — but at those RPMs the engine felt vaguely grumbly, which was the last thing I ever expected from an opposed six cylinder. Really noticeable though was the absence of any sense of working the throttle to work through the gears — it was just ‘dial it on and let the computer figure things out’. ‘Letting the computer figure things out’ did have one new feature, though.

Honda’s Dual Clutch transmission is an outgrowth of its racing programs, both two wheels and four. The DCT is technically a manual transmission — by which I mean it has meshing gearsets that are selected by sliding dogs — but its a manual transmission where the operation of the dogs and clutches (plural) is done via electronics and hydraulic actuators, rather than by shift and clutch levers worked by you, the human. It really is a genius design — the box has seven speeds, with the first clutch controlling first, third, fifth and seventh gear. The second clutch controls second, fourth and sixth gear. Going up through the gears, the system essentially is already in second gear at the time the shift up from first gets executed. To shift, the system simultaneously decouples the first gear clutch while engaging the second gear clutch. On the road, this translates to a shift that essentially has absolutely no loss of drive.

Think about that for a second. Or maybe more like three-quarters of a second.

Three quarters of a second is about that time that it takes for a normal motorcyclist — not, you, Valentino — to disengage the clutch, select the next gear, apply the throttle and clutch in to the next gear. During that three-quarters of a second, the bike stops accelerating, and either goes neutral or actually begins to slow down during the gap before the next gear is engaged and the driveline is accelerating again. Every motorcyclist understands this in his bones — the bwaaap, bwaaaap, bwaaap of the motorcycle speeding up, pausing and then speeding up again as each gear is engaged. That staccato stairstep of increasing speed is the fundamental, atomic set of sensations that define what most motorcyclists dream about when they’re dreaming about riding.

And with the DCT, that shit is gone.

With the Dual Clutch technology, those 3/4s of a second when the driveline unloads and then drives on again disappear – there’s just a seamless rush of power with the space between gears measured in milliseconds, if it can be measured at all. The system isn’t quite as seamless as a good Continuously Variable Transmission (CVT), buts its damn close.

Rolling up to 50 mph on Owings Mills Boulevard, that big whoosh was instantly evident, even if the bike’s default ride mode had 7th gear engaged at that speed.

I’d planned to ride Liberty Road about halfway home — Maryland 26 is a major state highway, that — at least in between towns — has a 50 or 60 mile per hour speed limit, and has rolling, open highway with minimal traffic once well west of Baltimore. It’s a perfect place to come to terms with a new motorcycle, which was exactly what I wanted to do before picking I-70 back up and really stretching back out at speed.

I’d already memorized a map of the area, and knew I only needed to make two turns to be pointed back out in the right direction, and still, somehow I blew it. I have to guess I was so tied up on learning the tactical elements of riding something this different that I completely struck out on the strategic ones — you know, where you are, where you expect to be going — that sort of thing.

In my tiny predicament, I did something I didn’t expect to do. While stopped at a traffic light I worked a few buttons on the ‘Wing’s center console, and put live navigation up on the LCD display. In this mode the system just displayed the roads that were stretched out in front of you, and well as your direction of travel. Much to my surprise, the position of the display was not as distracting as I’d anticipated — it was there if you needed to see it, and out of sightline if you didn’t.

The Nav Display made it quickly obvious that I’d righted where I should have lefted back there, and at the next major intersection, I pulled a big whopping U-turn, with a degree of ease — both due to the bike’s stellar low center of gravity and the DCT’s perfect clutch control — that is really notable on a bike of this size and power.

For the next 20 miles or so I just watched the world and the yellow line roll up to the windscreen. I’d adjusted the ‘Wings electrically adjustable shield to just below my line of sight, and even in these foggy, misty conditions my head and my eyes were in clean, still air, even with my helmet visor open. Coming into traffic lights at towns along the way, the DCT snapped off reasonably clean downshifts while slowing down or on the brakes, automatically selecting first and clutching out as the bike came to a stop.

In seriously suboptimal, spooky riding conditions, the bike felt like I was in command of the road, like I couldn’t put a wheel out of place, and was comfortable in conditions that were anything but.

When I arrived at a North-South route that took me back to the interstate I was ready, and rolled the 5 or 6 miles back to Interstate 70. On the onramp I finally got a bit demonstrative with the throttle, and kept the revs up as I entered the highway. With the engine’s single throttle body’s butterflies well open, we didn’t get 7th gear selected until just touching 80, which is where it stayed until we got back to Jefferson, and home.

I-70 though Carroll and Frederick counties as actually pretty curvy, and by my 30th mile in the saddle, the combination of the bike’s balance, neutral ergonomics, incredibly flat torque curve and compliant suspension had me feeling as comfortable as bikes I’ve ridden for 50,000. At highway RPM — about 22-2300 — the ‘Wing’s engine smoothed out, although, unlike the vintage ‘Wings I’m acquainted with, this engine had a bit more character in the form of some vibratory feedback. On the newly repaved pavement on I-70 the bike was agile and held its cornering lines perfectly, even when carrying higher than average cornering loads — we were hustling. The Lander road exit came up far too soon, and I killlswitched and standed a very damp motorcycle at the top of my driveway.

This bike would be here for 17 days. I had no way of knowing then it would pour rain for 14 of them.




Rain Much?

The next morning, when I came down to my office, I looked out my window and was greeted with the sight of two world-class, cross-continental capable touring bikes – my bike and Honda’s – doing their level best not to be motorboats. Conditions like these are why most of my Gold Wing photos look like professional car porn shots, where somebody goes to a lot of trouble to spray the car flesh with a hose so that all the pointed surfaces have big water drops on them — in my case, though, it was both effortless and unavoidable.

Gold Wing Instruments and Controls

Business End of The Big Boxer

Now You See It

Now You Don’t

I don’t know, maybe the water drop model treatment makes one more appreciative of typical Honda mechanical engineering elegance — like the bike’s nicely tapered alloy passenger floorboards that click upwards — with a nice detent and then disappear into the contours of the bike’s bodywork.

Then again, I’d like to have had the choice of appreciating them without having to stand out in my driveway in the rain.

So, with this beautiful motorcycle in my driveway, I looked for openings.

Which I didn’t get.

Owning an Aerostich Roadcrafter suit, I applied everyone’s favorite expletive, and went riding in the rain.

Someday, I hope to be able to test a motorcycle without being able to say how well its fairing works to protect the rider in the rain.

This is not that day.

The 2018 Honda Gold Wing’s fairing does a magnificent job of protecting the rider in unfavorable conditions. Even in pouring rain the air in the rider’s pocket is still, non turbulent, and does a stellar job in keeping the weather happening outside the cockpit outside the cockpit. Honda’s extensive use of fluid dynamics modelling software and the wind tunnel are clearly in evidence, with the shapes of the rearview mirrors and their fairing mounts clearly designed to shelter the riders hands and to manage vortices coming off the edge of the windshield. They look, and are, purposeful.

Air Control At Rest

It actually took three or four days before I got a real break in the rain, and was actually able to ride on something approximating dry pavement. Switching the DCT over from automatic to manual mode — where the rider controls the shifts from the paddles on the left switch cluster — upshifts via a finger trigger on the far side of the cluster, and downshifts via a thumb button on the front — really unleashed better shift behavior. I was able to keep the big boxer up higher in the RPM band, and both throttle response and engine smoothness improved.

Feeling brave, I changed drive modes from the default ‘Tour’ to ‘Sport’. I had been told to expect significant change, and I got it.

It’s important to note that unlike many modern, throttle by wire, computer managed motorcycles, with the new Gold Wing, Honda has elected to provide an essentially fixed map of ride modes. The Gold Wing’s ride modes provide a fixed menu of engine torque/horsepower, DCT transmission shift profiles, ABS/traction control settings, linked braking front/rear bias settings, and suspension damping settings. Rear suspension preload is electronically adjustable from the instrument panel. These ride mode maps — ‘Eco’, ‘Rain’, ‘Tour’ and ‘Sport’ provide different functional behavior combinations — think of them as ‘Personalities’ — that adjust the bike for road or travel conditions. The ride modes, however, are Honda’s decisions about which combinations work best. Want the high rpm DCT shift schedule of ‘Sport’ mode with the power curve of ‘Tour’ mode? Tough. The Gold Wing doesn’t give the rider any ability to adjust or tune any system parameters — i.e. a ‘User’ mode. I know Honda knows how to do this because the Africa Twin provides it. But in the ‘Wing you get what Honda has picked out for you and you’d better like it.

Gold Wing Ride Mode Matrix

‘Sport’ mode, for what it’s worth, turns the ‘Tour’ mode’s Dr. Jekyll into a snarling, foaming at the mouth, full-on Mr. Hyde. Based solely on the subjective Shamieh Butt Dyno, it feels like an extra 20% of torque and horsepower are set free with the mode switch — DCT shift scheduling goes from nearly comic levels of short shifting to the types of gearshifts I’d be making on a manually transmissioned bike — and valving in the ‘Wing’s shocks firms up the ride, making fast changes in directions on corner entrances feel smooth and natural. On an open, twisting secondary road, ‘Sport’ mode is magic, with the possible exception of the DCT’s tendency to slap off a late downshift when entering corners off the throttle. Because rider-selected paddle overrides are always available — whether in manual or automatic mode — once I developed the habit of snapping off an extra manual downshift on corner entrances, I was never bothered by that again.

You won’t be using ‘Sport’ mode around town though. Throttle response is just too abrupt, and coming out of a ‘Stop’ sign or traffic light and having, for example, to make a left turn off a standing start, it’s just too challenging to modulate. In fact, the whole notion of modulation, or moderation just doesn’t compute in ‘Sport’ mode. Get tentative with the throttle and the whole bike — refined though it may otherwise be, turns into a herky, jerky, electronically confused mess. I shared this impression with Colin Miller — Honda’s Press liaison — and his advice to me was that the rider interface assumed aggression — that if one was aggressive with the controls, the bike was completely able to understand the rider’s intention. As a rider that has spent multiple decades in the pursuit of analog smooth, I’d need to throw that shit out the window if I wanted to take the most from this motorcycle. That turned out to be perfectly good advice.




So, I kept looking for opportunities to really stretch this motorcycle out and understand it in its chosen environment. Sweet Doris from Baltimore and I planned a two-up weekend trip to the Maryland Eastern Shore, to visit Rock Hall, a quiet little village that has potential as an inexpensive retirement location. We could then skip the summer beach traffic coming back from Ocean City by looping up through Delaware, and working our way back across the secondary roads in rural Northern Maryland. I was curious to see how the ‘Wing handled up two up and loaded, and if Sweet D liked the bike. So, of course, It poured rain non-stop for two days before, the day of, and two days after the planned adventure.

We’d also planned to take some action photos of riding the motorcycle, which of course also demanded that the sun come out. Which it never did. We made it out to a decent location about 3 miles from the house, but between the time we left the house and the time we arrived on-location, it clouded over, leaving us stuck with shutter speeds like 1/60th and 1/125th of a second, which aren’t really suitable for shots of fast-moving action. If you look at the one almost critically sharp picture below, in the background you can see the cloudburst coming in that ran us off the road five minutes after that.

An Almost Critically Sharp Action Shot





My frustration, with a world-class travelling motorcycle getting drowned in my driveway, grew to almost unbearable levels. The date for the bike’s pickup was already confirmed, and compared to the 1000s of test miles I’d originally envisioned, I was struggling to make 300.

Finally, I saw an opening on the 5 day forecast — an actual, endangered species sunny day, with low humidity and highs ranging from the high 70s to low 80s — a perfect riding day. I remember shutting the window and looking over my shoulder to see if anyone had seen me looking at a good forecast — I didn’t want to blow it.

Surprisingly, over the next four days or so, the forecast held.

Sunday morning, I woke up to sunshine coming in my bedroom window. I got up, had some cold brew and some breakfast, and pulled together my insulated 3 liter water jug and a sandwich bag filled with cashews and raisins. I went outside, dried off the bike’s saddle and grips from the overnight rains of the previous night, and placed my water, snacks and DSLR camera into the top case. It does strike me as odd that the interior of the ‘Wing’s topcase is bare plastic — my experience of other touring bikes is that the top cases are usually finished with carpet or a rubber mat to keep from chewing up whatever you place in them — but the ‘every ounce counts’ ethos of this bike’s redesign had probably extended to that ounce of arguably necessary padding.

The rest of the redesigned Gold Wing’s luggage does bear additional comment. All three cases — saddlebags and topcase — have electromechanical latches that are opened by pressing a weatherproof diaphragm switch on each case. In the case of my blue bomber, I had a series of ‘no open’ events — where the switch would not open the case — and a series of ‘false positive’ error codes where the bike’s instrument display would throw up a ‘case open’ or ‘topcase open’ error message even though the case in question appeared to be closed. Is it possible that being drowned for two weeks straight was causing issues with wet seals having a bit more seal than the design called for? Maybe. It’s also possible that use of electromechanical components where a strong mechanical latch might do better could be the root of the problems I experienced.

Almost As If It Was Vacuformed Around The Final Drive

Then there is the size and shape of the cases themselves. In all things during the redesign, Honda strove for minimum aerodynamic drag and minimum mass. The side cases, for example were pulled in towards the rear wheel to the extent possible — to the point where the inner liner of the right bag clearly shows the outline of the shaft and final drive where the bag had to be shaped to fit around it. The basic shape of the bag’s interior is an elongated hexagon, and one which is pretty shallow at that. The bags are measured to be 30 liters capacity each – but the combination of the weird shape and relatively low volume — every hard case I’ve ever owned, from vintage Krausers, through 80s Vintage BMW ABS Touring Cases, to the built-in luggage on my K1200LT, are larger than 30 liters — make fitting anything into these a struggle. Items I routinely carry when on tour — a shoulder bag that easily fits two or three days of change of clothes and toiletries — won’t fit into these bags. Helmets will not fit into these bags, either — it isn’t even remotely possible. Even the top case, with its shallow design, tapered rear and sloping lid, is an odd shape that will challenge people trying to pack it. The electro latches, of course, don’t make any kind of overpack and stuff closed scenario any more likely.

I honestly don’t know what the designers were thinking — the ‘Wing is on the short list of the three or four most significant load-em-up-and-go-until-you-feel-like-coming-home motorcycles in the world. And if one is going to live off a motorcycle, that means tents, and camp stoves, and raingear and toolsets. Having not tried myself to pack the bike for two weeks on the road, I can’t say for certain, but my subjective expert says this case setup won’t accomodate any of it. If you buy this motorcycle you will be buying the Honda case liners, which — my apologies — look for all the world like an oddly shaped set of lady’s purses.

I understand that handling, motorcycle dynamics and range were foundational requirements. And the results of that are Good Things (TM). But a Gold Wing with skimpy luggage is the answer to a question that no potential buyer will ever ask.

With my day ride’s supplies aboard, and all the cases showing properly latched on the instrument panel, it was finally time to ride.




So there I was, sitting at Jefferson’s only red light, with a partially warmed up boxer six cylinder engine audibly working below me. I toggled the bike into ‘Sport’ mode, the light turned green, and I gassed it, banked left, and rolled up Holter Road.

A perfect morning. A perfect road. I wanted this to be the perfect bike.

The DCT was spinning the motor — spending more time with RPMs up above 2500 — remember, this big boxer is a low revving motor — redline is only 6000. With the revs up, the sharper throttle response felt right, the engine felt happier, the DCT seemed happier, making your pilot, speaking, wanting to participate and join in their happiness.

Working Holter’s familiar, sweeping and technical corners, I was amazed by the action of the bike’s redesigned front end. With the linkages of the Honda Hossack-type Double Wishbone working in view in the cockpit, it was amazing to see how much movement was being fed into the suspension, especially when compared to how little of it was actually being passed to the frame or rider. Honda’s design, which uses bearings for all points of movement, dramatically cuts the weight of the front suspension and its unsprung weight, and reduces the sliding friction of a telescopic suspension to virtually zero. The front end’s cornering behavior was crisp with good turn in — although there’s no hiding the engine’s presence in the gestures needed to control the bike. Honda has used every trick imaginable to cancel out the transverse flywheeled motor’s torque reactions, but no transversely mounted opposed six cylinder is ever going to be made to turn as lightly as, say, a parallel twin with a inline flywheel layout. Despite its big motor’s roll moment, the Gold Wing carves really well — one has to appreciate what a high accomplishment that is.

Double Wishbone Front Suspension Linkages In View in The Cockpit

After six or seven perfect corner entries, and six or seven enthusiastic corner exit displays of 1800 cc boxer motor, I had a mental lapse that is not characteristic for me.

“Damn,” I thought, “This is just about perfect. What could possibly go wrong?”


About 9 and half milliseconds later, I heard a nice, soft, furry thud in the left earpad of my brand new Shoei RF-SR.

A thud that Buzzed.

The Gold Wing also has really good brakes. Big power. Great balance. Zero drama. It is the first version of any linked braking system I have ridden that I didn’t find objectionable – I could select a front or rear wheel bias that allowed me to exercise most of the benefits of discrete controls — but when you had to just haul off and stop with it, it had impressive stopping power.

So I stopped. With enthusiasm.

Big Six Piston Brakes, with Linked Braking Plumbing In View

I found a paved spot beside the road where it crossed a culvert. I punched the bike out of gear from the handlebars, set the parking brake (yes. it has a parking brake. because you can’t stick it in gear to park it like your old technology motorcycle.), set the sidestand and briskly dismounted.

I got one elkskin gauntlet off and a set of D-rings unfastened in Guinness Record Book time.

Really. I’ll race ya. I’m that good.

With the helmet now upside down in my hands, I looked for either the Bee or The Wreckage That Used To Be The Bee. And I found neither.

Which I found puzzling.

I was pretty sure about what I had heard. I looked a little harder.

And then I heard a perfectly calm, healthy, “Buzz!”.

OK. Where the heck was the little buzzer?

The RF-SR has pretty typical Shoei internal pads — they’re all interchangeable, come in plus and minus sizes, and they detach so they can be washed. Where the cheek pad in my helmet meets the fixed pad of the shell, there’s a tiny gap. I pulled my other glove back on, then gently pulled the liner away from the shell.

And saw two antenna and two shiny compound eyes looking back at me.

You gotta laugh. I know I did.

After steeling myself for action — Stingy Bugs! Brand New Spendy (for me) Helmet! — I reached in again, pulled the liner back firmly, and shook the helmet with the opening pointed away from me.

Mr. Honey Bee bounced off the side of the Gold Wing’s fairing, landed on the ground, did about three loops of the Homer Simpson Shuffle, and then flew away indignantly.

I know it was indignant because about 15 feet out, he changed his mind, and then took another run at my head. At that point he probably figured we were square and he split.

What were the chances of that bug hitting that gap unharmed? About the same as hitting that vent on the Death Star.

Laughter does slow down the process of re-donning that helmet and glove, but I wasn’t feeling pressed.

I pulled off the parking brake (which was a hard habit to get into, ehem?) dropped the bike back into ‘D’ and moved back up the road.

Flash forward to Myersville, the entrance to I-70 , and a brisk roll of the throttle back onto the Interstate, westward to Maryland’s mountains.

This Gold Wing was home, baby.




Once that 1833 cc six is warmed through, seventh gear and just over 2200 RPMs translates to a pretty relaxed 78 mph or so. I’m confident you could burn though tanks of gas like that — in my experience, 225 to 240 miles per tank — over and over, until you just couldn’t manage to do it any more. With the revs up the big 6 is smooth but not so smooth as to be characterless – a thing at which Honda has become genuinely adept. 7th gear passing power in ‘Tour’ mode was a little flat for my tastes, thumbing up ‘Sport’ mode made the bike far more able to move with authority and defend itself by finding empty space in congested traffic.

The fairing, while found to be not bee resistant, could be set to where cleanest, quietest air at speed was with the screen just below my eye level, which is something that seems like free lunch to me. With any narrow motorcycle windshield, managing what happens when the airstream around both sides of the shield comes back together is really the trick. (I’m talking to you, KTM.) Get it wrong, and the rider literally gets beaten to death at speed. Get it right, and you have clear quiet air like this that allows you to run with your visor up if you feel bee-brave, and in an environment that is quiet and comfortable as any 1000 pound, 80 mph hurtling thing blasting through the air can possibly be engineered to be.

I set the cruise control, which was dead simple and worked perfectly — because on days where I burn 5 or 6 hundred miles of Interstate I will use the cruise. This one had zero surprises and get the seal of approval.

After an hours’ cruise, as we got to the point where the highway begins to climb in earnest, I took my customary Sideling Hill stop to briefly stop and honor my riding friend.

The View At Sideling Hill

Respects paid, I gassed it, and headed for the mountains.




I-68 from that point west is really a touring or sport touring bike playground. The roadbed climbs through the Mountains of Allegheny and Garrett counties, and twists entertainingly as it climbs. There are only a few places in the Interstate highway system where you’re going to be cornering a fast bike hard, and this is definitely one of them. The cruise control came off, and we had many miles of jamming — reading the road and sighting corners, executing exits and climbing the big grades. A time or two I’d find myself fending off crazy huge hot rod pickup truck guys that were pushing their acts well over the line.

This Gold Wing cornered precisely, and put down big flat power, keeping speeds up and making it all seem easy.

We kept up the turning climb – through Green Ridge, though Flintstone — until we arrived at US 220 South – which immediately took us across the border into West Virginia. 220 is one of many West Virginia motorcycle-friendly secondary roads and this continued to be a perfect way to roll. I left the bike with the DCT on auto — which gave great access to two-lane passing power that I used many times this afternoon.

I tried a little fairing gizmo that Honda calls a ‘airstream diffuser’ — a small plastic popup device located underneath the shield that redirects some of the laminar flow behind the windscreen into the cockpit… it works, too, but makes nearly double the sound pressure of the screen in its ‘clean’ configuration. I’d have to be pretty desperately hot to use it — on a day like today where noise equals fatigue, it wasn’t worth the trouble.

Managing fuel range had me sighting on Keyser, West Virgina as a town large enough to have good fuel, and after crossing the high bridge over the Potomac River, I rolled into a Sunoco Station sat prominently on the corner that made up the entrance into town. I pulled in, accessed the ‘Wings characteristic underseat fuel tank, and took on 4 odd gallons. I took advantage of the facilities, hit the topcase snackbar, did extreme hydration, then went stands up and boogied.

Coming back out onto 220, I left the parking brake set again, as I has several times before. Frankly, ‘parking brake check’ just hadn’t made it into my subconscious rider checklist, and the parking brake indicator light just got lost in the huge number of indicators and other displays on the ‘Wing’s instrument panel. Hint to Honda — this might be a rare case where an audio alert – which I usually eschew — might be appropriate.

Following 220 had us running in the valley between two ridgelines, enjoying the scenery and rolling through open country, with minimal company from the four-wheeled set. 220 has plenty of legal passing zones, and with the Gold Wing’s 100 plus foot pounds of torque across the entire tach, fast passing those isolated fellow travellers was one aggressive roll of the throttle and a downshift away. In this environment, I noticed another one of those areas where the DCT’s software might need another adjustment. After any downshift and aggressive blast of acceleration, on a manual transmission motorcycle, I will roll out of the throttle and upshift after the need for acceleration has passed – this will lower the RPMs, help to bleed off acceleration and drift back down to the desired cruise velocity. The more thrust and punch a motor has, the more pressing this behavior is, and the Wing’s boxer six, especially in sport mode, has plenty of punch. Two and a half seconds with the throttle wide open on the GL during a 55 or 60 mph pass has the bike rapidly closing on 90 miles an hour… speeding up is good, but only if one has a mechanism for getting back down from the ‘Arrest Me, Please, Officer’ zone. On the DCT-equipped ‘Wing, I found that rolling back out of the throttle — indicating that the need for acceleration had passed — wasn’t interpreted by the DCT as a signal to shift back to higher gears — the result of this was that after an aggressive two lane pass, I’d roll out of the throttle and move back into the lane in front of the passed vehicle, and the transmission, which might have downshifted to 5th or 4th gear, would stay in the downshift gear with the big motor still screaming away at 4500 or 5000 rpm – which doesn’t sound like much until one recalls this is an engine with a 6000 rpm redline. I’d be drumming my virtual fingers on the imaginary dashboard wondering when the heck the control module was going to figure out that we weren’t going to need full blasting past thrust any more.

This was another case where rider override input became routinely necessary. After a two lane pass and rolling out of the throttle, I’d need to use the upshift paddle to put the transmission back in a higher gear, lower the revs and decelerate back to cruise speed.

After working my way down the valley, we got to New Creek, and the intersection with US 50. In either direction, US 50 is a legendary road for Mid Atlantic riders, connecting multiple mountain ridges, Wilderness and Wildlife management areas, State and National Parks, rivers and stream canyons across Western Maryland and West Virginia, and eventually into Ohio. One thing 50 never is is straight, which is why we’re here. Today, we’d be running east, towards home, as unnatural as that seemed with this motorcycle — it was goading me to check out Montana, but there were more than a few people who would have been miffed by that “I might be a little late” phone call.

Running US 50 became a highlight of this motorcycle in its element — a wide open, twisting road following stream canyons, setting up for corner after corner, dancing with the yellow line as it rolled toward the screen. My approach towards motorcycle travel is right in line with Honda’s design intention — I’m not a relaxed tourist, but someone who knows that to cover ground, you’ve got to keep average speeds up, and so we were on the throttle, on the charge and really enjoying the bike’s behavior in the corners — driving deep, turning hard, and feeling relaxed due the bike’s stable handling, balanced ergonomics, and low effort steering. It was noteworthy that after a couple of hundred miles, my shoulders, which normally experience some stiffness as a day in the saddle goes on — felt completely loose and comfortable.

Pushing hard in a series of corners through one stream canyon, I did find myself wishing for just a little more rebound damping in the front damper unit — with the bike requiring one extra fraction of a second and one fraction of a bounce to settle into the cornering line. This slightly underdamped behavior also tended to show up at elevated speeds on less-than-perfect divided highway — where expansion joints or waves in the pavement would have the bike subtlety porpoising when jamming in a straight line.

It wasn’t a day or a ride for focusing on the negative, though. The sun stayed out, broken up by some high clouds, the temperature stayed down, and the curves of 50 just kept coming. As as long as the curves kept coming, the Gold Wing and I just kept dancing. We ran out of 50 long before I ran out of wanting to ride it.

In the middle of the afternoon, I found myself working my way back into the West Virginia panhandle, and my extended Rider’s Backyard. Not ready to go home yet, I turned away from home and picked up West Virginia 9, a brand new, state of the art divided highway that frankly, doesn’t really go anywhere — a concrete monument to the appropriations power of West Virginia’s late US Senator Robert Byrd. Out on The 9, I wicked the Gold Wing up — which proved to be as mechanically comfortable and unstressed at 90 as it is at 75.

The turn for home gave me one more good road — Loudoun Heights Road, which gave me a lovely combination of wide open sweepers and some tighter technical corners to cement my appreciation of the Gold Wing’s grace on a back road — a motor with good punch everywhere, and the handling behavior of a much smaller motorcycle.

It was over too soon, though, leaving me wishing for simpler, less busy, dryer life where I had time to ride 3000 miles in place of the 300-odd we’d covered today.




The 2018 Honda Gold Wing is a travellers motorcycle, and one which gets down the road in a way that is unique to itself. The motor has an absolutely dead flat torque curve, with a single throttle body and its four valve heads tuned to give good throttle response and good breathing at all RPMs, in place of the high RPM power step of more sporting motorcycles. Revving the big boxer 6 doesn’t get you access to any more power, so the DCT’s shift profiles take that into account. The engine is happiest right in the middle of its rev band where there’s plenty of torque, plenty of response to more throttle, and plenty of balanced smoothness.

Most Bikes Have a Torque Curve – The GL Has a ‘Torque Flat’

The bike’s suspension is state of the art, although the damping rates have been selected with compliance and comfort in mind. The bike never does anything evil under cornering loads, but compared to my 20-year-old european bike, which is equipped with aftermarket Ohlins damper units, there’s just a lot less communication of what is happening at the contact patches. Whether that’s important to you or a step in the wrong direction is a matter of rider’s preference.

The bike’s Dual Clutch Transmission is, at this stage, a mixed blessing. I used the transmission in Automatic mode as much as possible to get a complete appreciation of the system’s capabilities. That the system works as well as it does overall, is, on one level, an engineering masterwork. But to someone who has spent more than 30 years in the saddle honing shifting skills, there are some areas where improvement is still needed. Compared with creating an automatic transmission for a 4 wheeled vehicle, creating a good automatic for a two-wheeled vehicle is a level of magnitude more difficult. The DCT’s corner entry and aggressive passing-gear behaviors in automatic mode are still problematic, but, like all software controlled motor vehicle behaviors, a fix might only be a system flash away. If I owned one of these motorcycles, I suspect that on any technical road, I’d operate the system in manual mode, where my shift decision matrix and the electro-hydraulic gearset and clutch controls would result in perfect, millisecond shifts. On longer tours, in routine commuting duty, or stuck in congestion, the automatic mode would be a lifesaver.

Other parts of the bike bear a brief note. The ‘Walking Mode’ of the DCT, which gives riders access to engine-driven ultra low-speed reverse and forward drive, are tremendously useful in manoeuvring the bike in tight confines. The horns on the motorcycle are the best I’ve ever experienced — they have the same sort of punch as a New York Central streamliner locomotive — the percussive thump in the gut literally will take the breath away from anybody in their path. Similarly impressive are the bike’s LED headlamps, which have 5 projector units in each of the two light housings. On a late night backroad run in farm country near my home, use of the highbeams threw enough light to ignite roadside barns. You’re not going to be buying aftermarket horns or driving lights for this motorcycle.

Barn Burning Lighting

You will, however, be buying power outlets. Touring riders farkel. And although the bike’s built-in navigation and audio/communications systems will reduce what you need to add, regardless of whether its heated gear, radar detectors, CB, whatever, the stock motorcycle doesn’t have any power outlets, which seems like another design oversight that is hard to understand.

I had really high expectations for the redesigned 2018 Honda Gold Wing. Expectations, frankly, that made it unlikely that any bike could have met them. The base platform of the motorcycle — the engine, frame and suspension, brakes, riding position and fairing — is a balanced, capable combination that optimizes comfort and dynamic capability. The Dual Clutch Transmission is a technology advance that still feels like it is in its early stages, with future refinements in certain areas really necessary. The design, construction and execution of the bike’s luggage seem to be a repudiation of this bike’s traditional buyer — Honda clearly thinks that its new buyers will be hotel/motel travelers that live via their iPhone and their credit card, with tiny requirements for clean clothes and nothing else. People who go out on their motorcycles for weeks at a time — as this bike is clearly capable of — will be looking at their touring gear and scratching their heads.

The behavior of the bike on a winding road is confidence inspiring, capable, comfortable and fun. Whether it will work as your travelling partner is something only you can can decide for yourself.


Had Quite The Adventure Monday Evening

The Big Boxer

American Honda Motor Co. has finally come through and provided a 2018 GoldWing Tour to test.

I had to pick up the bike from the previous journos at Maryland Public Television’s studios for the MotorWeek program in Owings Mills, MD. When I got there, the bike was parked in Goss’ Garage. As somebody that has watched the show and Pat Goss’ maintenance segments for years, I’ll admit I had a tiny star-struck moment firing the Wing up on the set and riding it out.

Backroaded about half the way back to Jefferson to come to terms with the bike and operation of the Dual Clutch Transmission — needless to say this is not your Grandpa’s Touring Sofa — then hit the interstate and wicked it up into the engine’s Happy Zone.

Look for a full test in the September/October Issue of Motorcycle Times, with extended coverage in RPP.

Now I just need to find some places to go!

Pioneers, Trackers, Roadracers and Heros

Most motorcycle trips inevitably involve riding a motorcycle.

Me, though, I’m a bit of a different drummer dude. If there’s a weird way to do something, that’s more than likely the way that I’ll embrace.




Sweet Doris From Baltimore and I were way overdue for some quality road time. Road Time, for us anyway, is just an opportunity to unplug from the routine of home, work and family, burn some gas, get loose, see some stuff we’ve never seen, and spend some time enjoying each other’s company.

In an ideal world, Road Time involves my K1200LT, but the world is sometimes not ideal.

Fortunately, the backup plans are not exactly suffering, either.

One day, more or less out of the blue, Sweet Doris came to me and said, “Greggy, I know you’ve always wanted to visit the AMA Hall of Fame Museum. What say you take a few days off and we take a little camping trip?”

Regular readers of Rolling Physics Problem are familiar with reading statements about the reasons for my undying love for this woman.

This would be another one of those.

Sweet Doris, it seems, had been browsing the Rand McNally Road Atlas maps of — well, pretty much anything and everything west of here — looking for flimsy excuses for a several day wander. Unsurprisingly, she’d found a few.

Coopers Rock, West Virginia was one — a Civilian Conservation Corps-built series of campgrounds and hiking trails built around a spectacular mountain overlook just west of Morgantown. Arthurdale, West Virginia – a new deal era Homestead Project community — was another, where people from impoverished mining communities were given a small farm and taught agriculture and other trades and crafts to allow them to be self-sufficient. Buckeye Lake, Ohio, an man-made lake that has been a boaters’ and vacation destination since 1830. And the AMA Motorcycle Hall of Fame in Pickerington, Ohio — about a 15 minute drive from Buckeye Lake.

It looked like a great setup — a cluster of interesting destinations without a great deal of road mileage between them, the opportunity for some hiking and bicycling to undo way too much desk time, a bucket list motorcycling destination, and a map of craft breweries in close proximity to our likely campsites.

After a quick and wholly satisfactory Friday conversation with my manager at work, I went out to the garage, filled up the small water tank in the galley of my homebuilt teardrop camper, closed up the galley’s clamshell lid, and pushed the trailer out of the garage where it could be hitched to our Ram Tradesman work truck.

Saturday morning, we got up, had a cup of coffee, threw some saddlebag liners with a few changes of clothes and toothbrushes in the teardrop’s cabin, and fired up the truck’s small block V8 and headed west.




Bikers will tell you that it ain’t the destination, it’s the journey, but it’s my story, so this time, it’s the destination.

Now it isn’t like the journey wasn’t without some of the little jewels that the road always provides.

The road west from Jefferson always takes me out I-68, and one of the unbridled wonders of the US Interstate Highway System, Sideling Hill.

The Mountain Inside The Mountain

Sideling Hill is an exposed geologic syncline — the highway cut opened up folds of rock which look like an inverted mountain concealed inside another mountain. The geology geek in me loves to see the mountain laid bare, but that isn’t really why I love this place.

Paul Mihalka was a rider’s rider — a BMW Million Mile Badge Man — and a humble gentleman of the highest order. Paul was prone to taking motorcycle rides that would render the likes of you and me dull, lifeless and inert. A weekend ride to Montana for a slice of pie, and back at work on time on Monday. That sort of thing.

When the Spirit moved Paul, and he was leaving for a ride, he thought it good fortune to watch the sun rise over Sideling.

So Sweet Doris and I might not be much on the Dawn part, but every ride past Sideling has Paul riding along — it feels like good luck for us, too.




Cooper’s Other Rock

It isn’t much of a run from Sideling to Morgantown, and before long we were setting camp at Cooper’s Rock.


State Parks have rules, so Sweet Doris From Baltimore and I were quite something after 10 pm, though we’re not sure quite what.




After 2 days at Coopers, and a fascinating visit to Arthurdale, we beat feet for Ohio, and set camp again at Buckeye Lake.

Our campsite was about a quarter-mile from Buckeye Lake Brewing, which has to be the absolute finest use I have ever seen for a recycled 1950 vintage white tile Texaco Station. For a small brewery in a very small town, Buckeye can stand toe-to-toe with any brewery anywhere — we sampled everything they made and there wasn’t a bad brew in the lot.




The next morning, after a slightly slow start — which might have had something to do with some Legend Valley IPAs with pink grapefruit juice ice cubes — we rolled up to Pickerington, Ohio, and The AMA Hall of Fame Museum.

AMA’s facility sits in a very suburban location, just off the interstate and behind some typical commercial big box sprawl, in its own green and forested little campus, backed up by some high density townhomes — a most unlikely site. After turning through the campus’ brick gateway, and winding up the rolling driveway, one enters into a very corporate looking office complex — 70s architecture, with a lot of natural and dark woods, cathedral ceilings, clerestory windows — all very anonymously, painfully, boringly normal. The only hint that something a tad less bland might be afoot is the standing seam metal roofed shed at the far end of the courtyard — a covered motorcycle parking area which this morning contained a silver BMW R80ST and a classic white Harley Electra Glide Authority Model.

As Sweet Doris From Baltimore and I walked through the treed parking lot, which featured some well landscaped garden seating areas, we came up on the Hall of Fame’s sign, which telegraphed AMA’s good taste in art, which would be front and center for much of our day.

The First of Many Trackers

We didn’t even manage to get through the entrance hall before the excitement started.

“Oh, look, Greggie! What a perfect camping motorcycle.”

I had to admit, with minimal consideration, that the brand new customized Ural Gear Up that AMA was raffling off was the perfect camping motorcycle — between the substantial cargo capacity of the sidecar itself, both motorcycle and sidecar had beefy luggage racks, deer melting rally lighting, multiple jerry cans for fuel and water, serious bash plates, two wheel drive and some chewy looking knobbies. Now I know, from some painful experience gained by some of my moto-writing cohorts that the Ural is not a go anywhere machine (Right, Abhi?), but with some common sense about its limitations, it will go a lot of places, and while going there will carry nearly as much camping gear, cooking equipment and cold beer as my pickup and teardrop camper combination.

“I’d love to have one of these.”

“Well, Hon, if you see that nice lady over there, and give her a few five dollar bills, I’m sure she’ll sell you a few chances to win this one.”

So we have a few chances to finally exceed the upper motorcycle storage limit of my garage when the drawing is held on The Hall of Fame’s next Induction Ceremony one weekend this September.

Fingers crossed.




Entering into the Museum itself, the overwhelming impression is one of an embarrassment of riches. The AMA either owns or displays a nearly incomprehensible number of historic motorcycles, racing motorcycles from AMA sanctioned racing series, racetrack leathers, helmets and boots from Hall of Fame racers, and one of a kind performance and stunt motorcycles such as Land Speed Record machines and Daredevil Bikes. All of these motorcycles and artifacts are displayed on two floors of the building — the upper level mostly devoted to inducted members of the Hall of Fame, and the lower level devoted to special exhibitions, a memorial wall, and ‘The Garage’, an area filled with motorcycles donated by AMA Members.

A blessing that these many treasures may be, the reality is that their collection far exceeds the capacity of their facility — making organization of the collection a challenge, and making display and examination of the many motorcycles and racer figures somewhat haphazard. The first gallery, for example, contains machinery which covers a period between 1914 — a Harley Davidson Pocket Valve Factory Racer — and 2016 — the engineering prototype for the hugely successful Indian FTR750 Flat Tracker.

As someone who has to deal with too many motorcycles in far too little space, I empathize with their problem, but the collection cries out for a re-examination of their curation, and ultimately, as I’m sure they’re well aware, a bigger space.

You shouldn’t, for even a millisecond, let this concern keep you from planning a ride to Ohio to visit, though. I couldn’t begin to describe everything but I can share some of my favorite exhibits to whet your appetite for your trip to Pickerington so you can pick your own.




Walking into the first gallery kind of perfectly encapsulates just what I mean. Displayed in a tight cluster are a replica of Gottlieb Daimler’s Einspur, a vintage Honda MiniTrail 50, and a late 90s vintage Honda Dream 50. Other than the fact that all three are single cylinder motorcycles, it’s hard to for me to see what the thread there is.

Maybe It’s Just Because They Fit There

Fortunately, I have a bit of an irrational fondness for Dream 50s, so I really didn’t overthink things at the time, I just got down on the floor and checked out the little fella.

My irrational fondness stems from my favorite motorcycle ad of all time, which features Father Yvonne and Son Miguel DuHamel banging bars on the track on a Dream 50 and NSR 50. If there’s ever been a cuter motorcycle ad I can’t recall what it is — two road racing champions, father and son, flogging the snot of two absolutely diminutive motorcycles – motorcycles which were small replicas of the foundational racing motorcycles of each’s time – and dicing with each other like the Number One plate was on the line.

It’s an image that’s hard to shake.

So yeah, I like Dream 50s

In the entrance to the gallery sits the Hall of Fame plaque honoring Soichiro Honda, and as his monument, a Honda RC161 250 cc four-cylinder racing motorcycle. The RC is an amazing thing — the proving ground for what would prove to be at least a half-dozen generations of 4 cylinder Honda Motorcycles. And although MV Agusta and Gilera may have gotten there first, all if the design elements — four transverse air-cooled cylinders, overhead cams with chain drive, 4 semi downdraft carburetors, laydown cylinder block, and four exhausts wrapping around either side of the motorcycle — were there, and developed to a degree of output and reliability no one had ever previously managed. In its first full year of Grand Prix competition, the RC 161 and its 125 cc brother won 18 of 22 races.

The Honda RC161

Semi Downdrafts and DOHC

Wandering the galleries one experiences surprise after surprise, and sees layer upon layer of motorcycling history, competition and artifacts.

There are multiple examples of pioneering motorcycles and early motorcycle engineering breakthroughs. Pioneering motorcycles, of necessity, will include the bikes made by William Harley and Arthur Davidson, who along with their partners, William and Walter Davidson Sr., are all members of the Hall of Fame. Representing the Milwaukee brand is a 1914 Pocket Valve factory racer — one of HD Engineer Bill Ottoway’s early attempts to develop a seriously hot rodded speciality flat track racing machine. Eventually, that first step down the hot rodding road would result in the Infamous 8 Valve, but the first step was a pretty big one for a company that had once declared “”We do not believe in racing. We do not employ any racing men. We build no special racing machines.” The Pocket Valve was a serious and special racing machine — bigger valves, serious porting … and overhead valves and rockers that were so high lift that the right side of the fuel tank needed to be modified with pockets so that the tank would clear the valve gear.

1914 Harley Davidson Pocket Valve Racer

We know HD today because of their iconic V-Twin powerplants. HD’s original motors had all been singles, however, which were only dropped from the line in 1918 after greater sales of the twins had determined that strategy. Fittingly, the AMA itself caused HD to do a rethink when, in 1925, they introduced Class A racing — a class built around 21 cubic inch single cylinder motorcycles — and Harley didn’t have one.

The result was the Harley Davidson BA — a 350 cc road going single that broke new engineering ground for Harley. The BA was the first HD that featured a removable cylinder head — up to this point Harley’s cylinders and heads had been cast in unit. This engineering advance meant it was trivial to sell the BA with two different valve configurations — and hence engine outputs and pricepoints. The lower output and lower priced BA Model A was a sidevalve flathead, and its low price meant it exceeded sales expectations. The Model B — such as the one pictured below — offered an overhead valve head and 50% more power, but the price was too close to that of the twins, so B models became the rare beasts. Rare, unless you were going Class A racing.

A Motor To Go Racing With

Production Class A racers removed fenders and other racetrack useless stuff and went racing. Harley itself took the OHV motor, and further developed the cylinder head to use twin exhaust valves and ports, put the resulting motor into a lightweight frame that had no fenders, no brakes and no transmission. The result was the Model S ‘Peashooter’, a 215 pound flattrack war machine.




Harleys and Davidsons were by no means the only motorcycle pioneers, and their motorcycles are by no means the only pioneer motorcycles in the currently displayed collection. The lower level ‘Garage’ contains several significant early motorcycles donated by AMA members.

Among the most intriguing is a 1914 Triumph TT — a 500 cc, single cylinder cycle that was still started by bicycle pedals. Stopping, while riding, meant killing the motor and then bump starting again to get back going. The TT predates transmissions, clutches and other modern niceties — drive from the sidevalve single is by leather belt, saddle is a Brooks leather bicycle saddle, and what braking there is is provided by another bicycle refugee stirrup rim brake. The TT’s front end does feature a lovely springer fork. A little searching of the internet revealed several British enthusiasts that still have these cycles licensed and street legal in the UK. AMA’s Triumph TT is running, restored example, and is both truly lovely to look at, as well as a little portal into the earliest days of powered cycling.

That You Or I Should Be In This Kinda Shape at 104 Years Old


Another member-donated denizen of AMA’s ‘Garage’ is a nicely restored 1919 Cleveland.

Quite The Crankshaft, Indeed

The Cleveland was designed to be reliable and affordable transportation. What is intriguing about the Cleveland is the design of its driveline.

Most single cylinder motorcycles of the late 19 teens were in-line engine layouts, where the engine flywheel rotated in-line with the motorcycle’s wheels. Power made by the engine was then transferred, either via belt or via chain, either to a separate transmission case, or directly to the rear wheel.

By Cleveland Motorcycle Manufacturing Company [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

A Unique Kind of Unit Construction

The Cleveland, however, was notable in that its two stroke engine — by itself somewhat unusual — was oriented with a transverse flywheel, which allowed power to be transmitted directly via an extended crankshaft to a unit construction gearbox, which was driven off the crank via a worm gear.  The crankshaft then continued past the 2 speed, pedal shifted gearbox to drive the motorcycle’s magneto.  The resulting drive unit was light, simple, economical to manufacture and strong.  This driveline was a concrete engineering example of creative and elegant problem solving. That elegance was of little solace when, like the vast majority of US motorcycle manufacturers, Cleveland was bankrupted in 1929 by the Great Depression.


I have an admitted weakness for all the 4 cylinder motorcycles that were made in the US in the early part of the twentieth century. These motorcycles — the Pierce, the Ace, the Henderson and the Indian 4s were all attempts to drive motorcycle performance, comfort and sophistication forward. With the exception of the Pierce, all these motorcycles were the designs of William Henderson, who, along with his brother Tom were inducted into the Hall in 1998.

The Hendersons originally built motorcycles under their own name — long graceful cycles with inline air-cooled 4 cylinder engines. After selling their company to Ignatz Schwinn — who sold the bikes as Excelsior-Hendersons — William Henderson went back into business with another more developed 4 cylinder — the Ace. After William was struck by a car and killed testing a new Ace model, the company went out of business shortly thereafter. Indian purchased the Ace intellectual property, and produced that essentially unchanged motorcycle, called the Indian Ace for its first year, and then subsequently swapped the Ace’s front ends’ leading links for Indian’s trailing links, and Henderson’s Ace became the Indian 4.

These examples of fiercely creative engineering all came a cropper at the foot of Henry Ford, whose assembly line methods – at around 1914 — made it less expensive to manufacture and sell an automobile than to sell a premium motorcycle such as these. The potential market for such machinery was reduced from people looking for practical transportation to motorcycle police — who valued being able to run down anything on the road — and motorsport enthusiasts, and with that reduction one saw the sadly expected series of bankruptcies, acquisitions and commercial failures.

AMA has a few prime examples of these high-speed thoroughbreds, though.

The Ace

One of William’s Motorcycles

This 1924 Ace would have been one of the last Aces built before the company was sold off – first to Michigan Motors Corporation — who failed to build more than a few examples — and subsequently Indian, who moved production to Springfield, Massachusetts and sold the bike as the Indian 4.

Another One of William’s Motorcycles

This 1930 Excelsior Henderson was also one of the last ones of its type built. Ignatz Schwinn, with the Depression coming up on the pipe, made a management decision to exit the motorcycle business as a method to save the bicycle side of his conglomerate. Looking at the two motorcycles back to back, it is pretty easy to see that they sprang from the mind of the same designer. The fact that they both share similar paintwork – royal blue paintwork with gold striping and yellow crème wheels — seems almost but not quite coincidental. The engines have the same Inlet Over Exhaust F-head design — the timing case is almost identical — the placement of the carb and intake manifold is the same — the Magneto is the same — even the transmission lever and linkages are almost identical. The Ace company was quick to point out that not a single part was interchangeable between the two motorcycles

Henderson’s contract with Excelsior provided for protection of all of Excelsior’s designs and intellectual property. Looking at the two engines, it’s clear William Henderson stuck to the letter, if not the spirit, of that contract.




End of Part 1… To read Part Two, Click Here



I’d like you to play a little mind game with me.

Break out your mental ‘Etch-a-sketch’ and imagine a motorcycle.

First draw two circles, close to the same size, that describe the wheels. One rectangle towards the rear gives you a bench seat. A jellybean shape provides your fuel tank. A cylinder, maybe two. Give the rider some grips to grab onto, a headlight, and a pipe or two to get noise out of those cylinders, and there it is.

A motorcycle.

Unlike the ‘Famous Artist’s School’ Drawing lessons whose ads festooned a misspent youth’s worth of matchbooks and motorcycle magazines, 4 payments of $4.95 are not required – this drawing lesson is free.

What you’ve drawn looks just like a Honda CB360T. Or a Triumph Bonneville. Or a Norton International, Matchless G12 or a Royal Enfield Bullet.

Your mind’s eye has produced an iconic, simple, classic standard motorcycle.

And in your mind’s eye is likely where that classic motorcycle will stay, because almost no-one still manufactures a product that looks or functions like that.

Think about what motorcycles are out there in the marketplace, and which ones sell in substantial volumes. There are all manner of racetrack refugees – Yamaha YZF-R1s, Suzuki GSXR 1000s, BMW RR1000s, Kawasaki ZX-10s. Such motorcycles are extraordinary pieces of engineering, capable of blistering lap times and stunning top speeds that would have had them on the GP Podiums of 20 years ago.

Most of us, though, just want to get to work with our laptop and lunchbox, take a ride to the grocery store, or put our girlfriend (or boyfriend) on the back seat for a Sunday afternoon ride. Good luck transporting anything bigger than a granola bar, or any SO over 5 feet tall as a passenger on one of these machines.

Other specialized motorcycle designs abound. Heavy Tourers. Sport Tourers. Adventure Bikes. Cruisers. Baggers Bikes with more power, more mass, more suspension travel, more complexity, more function, but with more focus – being good at one thing at the expense of others. Good on the Interstate but a wrestling match in the city. Sweet on a single track but a tall mess on the pavement.

I’m as guilty as any rider of feeding the specialization beast. I have a vintage sport bike, racer boy bubble and all. I have a scrambler – which was riding dirt before anyone coined the term. I have a GT Bike – fairings, panniers and top case – complex adjustable fairings and artsy alternate suspension. It can carve twisty pavement with a week’s gear on board at 80 mph and can do it for weeks at a time. Its motor has a bigger displacement than half the cars in Italy.

My first street motorcycle was a 1973 CB750. It was bone stock – save for a universal chrome tube luggage rack, with a Green Spring Valley Dairy milkcrate bolted on.

Why does it feel like I’ve lost something?

My youngest son Finn is also a rider, and although he gets some, doesn’t really need any encouragement from me. As an Architect in Training, Finn has a developed design eye. When he first started looking at motorcycles, he was immediately drawn to one of those last few remaining classic motorcycles, the Royal Enfield. He intuitively understood the Bullet’s classic design language and intent. Had Finn had as much income as he had discerning taste, he’d have bought one, too.

His first few years in the saddle – using his bike for daily transportation – were spent aboard a Buell Blast single whose purchase was mostly based on the $900 it cost to buy. Being an Architect and not a mechanic, Finn found himself the recipient of increasingly frequent not quite social visits from me and from ever increasing percentages of my toolkit stuffed into the saddlebags of the aforementioned GT bike.

After the Blast’s engine fell out, it became clear, even to me, that some more material adjustments needed to be made to Finn’s riding life, and those adjustments were spelled H-O-N-D-A.

After about 639 phone calls to Baltimore’s Pete’s Cycle, my credit union and my Allstate agent, Finn had a brand new 2016 CB500F parked in my garage – at least until its permanent license plate showed up.

Two circles, one rectangle, one jellybean, some grips, two cylinders, a headlight and a pipe.


So it was with a light and expectant heart that I pulled on my leathers and my helmet, and rolled the CB out of my garage.

It’s not difficult to see the classic motorcycles of the past in the CB’s profile. Its parallel twin engine, sit up riding profile, and relaxed footpeg position carry obvious echos of the original CB450 Black Bomber, and the Triumph Bonneville that it was designed to vanquish. There are a few concessions to modernity – the bike’s 471 cc motor is liquid cooled, fuel injected, and has a double overhead cam, 4 valve cylinder head. Honda’s stylists did their best to pay homage to the tank shape and tailsection of Marc Marquez’ championship winning RC213V.

Fingering the starter yields immediate action – the bike’s exhaust note has a whistling quality which comes from the fuel injection pump and the operation of the injectors being the loudest sounds coming from the motor. The CB’s reaction to throttle is immediate – the engine’s square bore and stroke design has almost no flywheel.

On the road, the CB is a dream. The 6 speed transmission shifts positively – downshifts are a treat given the engine’s immediate response to a blips of the throttle. The quality of the engine’s power delivery is sneaky fast – there’s just enough communication to let you know that this is a twin, but the quality of the vibration is always pleasant – at higher RPMs and highway speeds the motor smooths out admirably. Above 6000 rpm that twin is ripping.

Cornering behavior is exemplary – the bike is narrow, weighs just over 400 lbs wet, cuts entries and changes direction like a scalpel and holds its cornering line securely even at extreme lean angles. Suspension is taut but comfortable. The bike’s 4 piston Nissin single rotor front brake is more than enough for the CB’s low mass.

I find myself seeking out tighter and more technical stretches of Frederick County pavement as the tires scrub in. I’m working the bike’s throttle, making full use of all 6 gears, and spending some quality time with the horizon anywhere but horizontal.

The CB500F has not been a sales leader for Honda. This bike was a leftover 2016 that was deeply discounted at the end of the 2017 sales year. On the West Coast, examples can be bought new for more than 35% off the current MSRP. Our American Riding Brothers and Sisters will tell you that its engine is “too small” and that it isn’t track ready, tour ready or adventure ready. All of that misses the point completely. Anywhere else in the world, where 2 wheeled transportation means a world of 125s, 350 Bullets, two strokers and motorscooters, the CB is an aspirational motorcycle – more attractive and better performing at a price that normal humans, and more importantly in the US, young riders, can afford.

Sitting in my driveway looking at the CB with Finn, it’s clear that we agree with those riders. Neither one of us ever gets tired of looking at the CB, and Finn’s opinion is “This is my new favorite thing in the entire world”.

Better still, is the CB is just grin-inducingly and totally fun to ride.

And isn’t that why we ride?




This story originally appeared in the January/February Issue of Motorcycle Times.



In the life of a motorcyclist, taking delivery on a brand new motorcycle is one of those milestone moments that becomes a nexus around which your entire riding experience revolves.

In more than 30 years in the saddle, I’ve only bought myself one new motorcycle.

That wasn’t going to change today.




After my son Finn’s Buell Blast had proven itself not quite up to the task of being reliable, daily transportation, it became more or less obvious that, in the interest of his safety, a more modern and well engineered motorcycle needed to be obtained. It may have been more obvious to Sweet Doris From Baltimore, Finn’s Mother, and less obvious to me, but no matter.

I did some searches on Cycle Trader to check real world values on some of the motorcycles that I thought would represent a step up in power and handling for Finn, while not completely breaking the family bank.

I’ll admit, that especially when it comes to motorcycles, I’ve got opinions.

After surveying the market for my small target group of medium displacement twins — 650 Versys, FZ-7s, CB500Fs — the CB500F was quickly identified as the most versatile machine that could be obtained for the least dollar. A John Burns review of the CB — in which Burnsie shared that the motorcycle had totally surprised him by its capabilty, and left him in the difficult position, for a motorcycle reviewer, or having absolutely nothing to kvetch about — convinced me this was the one. There were leftover CBs in dealer inventory all across the country, and a nice one was located for the right price in Baltimore at Pete’s Cycle.

65 miles from the front door.


After many, many, MANY phone calls working the entire sale remotely, and then a few more calls with my Credit Union taking a small loan, the deal was done. $93 a month was a bill I can cover for Finn until he graduates, and once he is gainfully employed, I can sign both the title and payment book over to him.

Welcome to adulting lesson one.

Now all we had to do was pick it up.




In your rose colored fantasy motorcycling world, when you pick up your new motorcycle, you are standing on some dealership lot in Huntington Beach or Cosa Mesa, it’s 84 degrees out, the Pacific Breeze washes over your skin, everybody is wearing jams, sneakers and shades and calling each other ‘Dude’.

Now let’s snap out of it and get to the real world, shall we, Bucko?

When Finn and I got up on our anointed Saturday morning, it was 36 degrees out, cloudy, windy, and with a radar trace that showed a stationary front hanging out just to the north of Jefferson where it was dropping light rain and even some sleet in places.

Just ‘effin perfect.

Finn, it should be clearly stated, is a night owl. So right off the bat he wasn’t at his absolute best as we were sucking down some coffee and cereal and trying to bolt together a plan.

“First, this is your bike, so you have to get first saddle time. So, we can either throw our riding gear in your Corolla, drive to Baltimore, and you can head back out this way with me available to take a shift if it gets too cold or rainy, or you can ride cupcake on the LT and we can make a moto trip out of the deal.”

“Let’s take your bike.”

That’s my boy.

“Good, nobody ever got wet riding an LT, and on the way back out at least I can talk to you from a bike to see how you’re doing …”.




Finn and I got fully geared up — me in my second skin the ‘stitch, and Finn in his insulated textile riding pants, jacket and gloves — both of us with a light technical fleece to layer up for warmth underneath.

The weather report showed rapidly rising temperatures, so I felt pretty good about our prospects. The only concern was the behavior of that stationary front — Baltimore was forecast to stay dry, but Jefferson was not — so it was inevitable that somewhere on the way back our trip would break bad. It was just a question of how far west and how close to home we would be when that happened.

Finn and I headed for the garage and threw up the door behind the LT. While I was dialing in a few clicks of preload, Finn was fastening his helmet and gazing down the driveway.

“It’s raining.”

“Of course it is. We should punch back out of it on the other side of Frederick. I’ll roll the Fat Girl down to the bottom of the driveway. You pull the door down and meet me down there.”

20 seconds later, he was comfortably astride the LT’s pillion, and we were shields up and heading for Pete’s and Baltimore.




Somewhere between Frederick and Mount Airy, and maybe a few more miles further east than I’d been hoping, we did punch back into the clear, and the temperature finally started to rise in a meaningful way.

If there’s one thing an LT is built for, it’s carrying full bags and a passenger, and doing its best to vaporize some miles. With a pillion up, the bike runs smoother and handles better, and with a new motorcycle waiting on the other end, running 80+ on the Interstate seemed like something both of us would naturally want to do.

When we hit the more congested Baltimore Beltway, I backed it down a few, selecting a speed that was just 3 or 4 above prevailing traffic, so we could pick our spots of clear pavement and try to defend them.

Belair Road came up soon enough, and less than a mile south of the exit I made the left turn into Pete’s parking lot. The business is built on the side of a hill, so the parking lot slopes pretty sharply down towards the rear of the building, where there is a motorized security gate and the Service Department’s entrance.

I’ll admit that parking an 850 plus pound motorcycle on steep grades does not appeal to me, so I cut to the right inside the lot and found a nice level spot next to the razor wire topped fence that borders Belair Road.

Pete’s Cycle Company is located in Fullerton, a neighborhood located in Northeast Baltimore. When a young, CB750-riding me had last been their customer, they had a storefront located in Hamilton, a neighborhood located about 5 miles to the south and closer to the center of the city. About 20 years ago, they made a business decision to move out of the location where they had done business for more than 60 years to a larger facility. This location is a few miles further from the troubled neighborhoods that are the home turf of the city’s ’12 O’Clock Boys’. The ‘Boys’ got their name because of their advanced skills illegally riding dirtbikes with their front forks pointing to the noon position. Dealers throughout the entire Mid-Atlantic region, from York, PA., to Staunton, VA., have had visits from ‘The Boys’ to make crash and grab nighttime dirtbike withdrawals, so those few miles are probably not signficant. But between the cameras, razor wire, barred windows and mechanized gates, one can tell Pete’s isn’t going to make such extreme discounts easy to obtain.

After stowing our helmets and gloves in the LT’s cases, a slightly chilly-appearing Finn and I headed into the building to look for our salesman.

I’ve been in my fair share of motorcycle dealerships, but the view upon entering Pete’s was a bit of a shock.

Right inside the door were 3 Polaris Slingshots — including one with a roof that I’d never seen before. Next to these were a half dozen or so Can-Am Spyders. The rest of the substantial showroom was jammed with bikes — Hondas, Ducatis, Trimuphs, Suzukis, Kawasakis — heck, there was even a nicely cruisered-out Royal Enfield, but it looked like a bike someone had traded in.

Remembering that the motorcycle we were buying was not a ‘planned motorcycle’, to avoid further trouble I went well out of my way to avoid the Africa Twin and NC700x that Pete’s had on the floor.

One of the folks roaming the floor asked if we needed any assistance.

“Yup. I’m looking for Jim Stantz.”

“Ok, that’s him in the black windbreaker all the way over ….there.”

Just what I needed — a reason to traverse the entire showroom. It was almost like making a desperate alcoholic walk across the entire liquor warehouse. Eyes down…eyes down….

“Hey Guys! You must be Greg and Finn. You guys rode in from Frederick today?”

“Yeah, its raining out our end..nice enough here in Baltimore, though.”

“Our business manager — you’ll be meeting with him in a minute — rode in from Frederick this morning, too…said the same thing. The bike’s out back. You want to see her before we do the paperwork?”

Well, yeah.

Jim walked us down the back stairs and out past the service department. Pete’s has a covered back porch where the new motorcycles are placed after they’ve been prepped for delivery. Right outside the door was our CB500F.

Maybe all bikes look better in person than they do in stock photos. Whether they generally do or not, this one sure did.

I took a quick sideways glance over at Finn, and he was slackjawed and googly-eyed in a look of pure, unadulterated motopleasure.

The CB was finished in all flat black, with its tailsection and radiator cowls finished in silver. The tank had a nice Shelby-style dual racing stripe applied down the center of the tank. The engine was also painted black, with the clutch, alternator and valve covers painted in a copper color to mimic the magnesium cases that Honda Racing Corporation (HRC) uses on their RC racing specials. The shapes of the tank and tail section, as well, were intended to mimic those of the big CBR100R and its motoGP big brother, the RC213v.

For what is admittedly a reasonably priced street motorcycle, the CB gives an enthusiast a great deal to look at and to enjoy.

As Finn’s initial state of pleased shock wore off, I asked him if he wanted to sit on the bike.

He slowly walked around the left side of the machine, gripped the front brake lever and threw a leg over.


The bike fit him like it was made for him.

Jim walked him through the features and controls of the bike. Finn set the adjuster of the front brake lever to fit his hand.


Finn turned the key, and watched as the instrument display went hits animated calibration routine. The odometer display read “0.7”. He pulled the clutch in, and pressed the starter.

The bike started from cold on the second compression stroke, and what filled the air around us was the sound of a thoroughly modern motorcycle — the high pitched ‘wheep-wheep-wheep’ of the high pressure fuel pump and the fuel injectors opening and closing. With the water cooling jackets and double overhead cams there was no noise from the reciprocating parts of the engine whatsoever — no valve noise, no piston clatter. The exhaust had a nice brap to it without being obnoxious — a pleasant change from a big single with a drag pipe — and the engine responded to throttle by spinning up absolutely instantly — clearly flywheel mass hadn’t been anywhere on the engineering requirements.

We sat for a few seconds listening to the CB’s perfect steady idle, and then Finn killswitched it.

“C’mon, guys — let’s sign a few papers and get you out of here and back on the road.”

And that was really all there was to it. I was ushered into the business manager’s office, made my downpayment, signed the sales order and the title work, and we were back downstairs again in a flash.

Finn rolled the CB off the porch, and pushed the bike through the mechanized gate, which then motored shut behind us.

Jim reminded Finn he was on a set of new, unscrubbed tires.

“No horsin’ around until they’re scrubbed in, eh?”

Jim then shook our hands, thanked us for our business, wished us a safe ride home, and went back inside the dealership. I walked up the hill and retrieved Finn’s helmet and gloves from the LT’s cases.


Ready to Roll

“You want to take a few loops around the parking lot just to get a feel for the clutch and brakes? When you’re done you can pull up next to the building up by the entrance there, and I can lead us back to the highway. Lemme go get my gear on.”

As I walked back up the hill to my bike, Finn motored up and down the hill in the parking lot a few times. There was a wider area down at the bottom of the lot that worked well for turning around. Finn seemed almost instantly comfortable on the CB — clutch and throttle control were spot on, no extra revs, and he visibly worked the bike from side to side underneath him to get a feel for the mass and turn-in response. By the time I had my second glove on, he was already waiting for me at the exit.

I fired the LT back up, did my U-turn, and rolled up beside Finn and the CB.

“We should probably just go back to the beltway just to get the heck out of town. Once we get on the highway, you lead, pick your own pace, and I’ll keep people off your six. Vary speeds a bit — speed up and then slow down — during the first couple of miles. Then we can run out to Maryland 32 where we can pick up Maryland 144 which will give us a nice backroad ride back to Frederick. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds perfect. Let’s go.”

And with that we gassed it and headed back up Belair Road.




Watching Finn in my rearviews was easy — the CB’s new tech LED headlight made it completely stand out from the background and from other vehicles.

It wasn’t until I got home later that I had to conclude that at least one Honda Design Engineer watches too many ‘Transformers’ cartoons. Or Gundam Anime. Or something.


You tell me you don’t see Optimus Prime

Finn’s run up the Beltway was a little tentative, which is exactly what you’d hope to see. As we hit the onramp to I-695 West, though, Finn cut in smoothly and gently rolled the gas as we got to the apex. Both Finn and his new bike looked rock solid.

Fortunately, we got a rare break in the traffic and were able to enter the highway with no frantic adjustments to line or to speed.

As we cleared the interchange, I moved determinedly right, and motioned with my gloved hand for Finn to move by.

The first sound I heard was that of the CB breathing — again that little whistle of the FI plumbing working — then the bike moved smartly past — followed by a very well-defined, metallic ‘Braaap’ of the CB’s twin pulling about 5000 rpm.

You can tell a lot, sometimes, from people’s body language, and shifting up to top gear, Finn was sitting poised and tall.

So we worked our way back around the Beltway and out to I-70, doing our best to keep the CB varying load and speed, and trying to avoid the inevitable flow control chaos that inhabits each of the interchanges. It was fun, and as we hit some clear pavement on 70 West, I enjoyed watching Finn further feeling the CB out. He’d settle in around 70 or so, and then give the bike some enthusiastic throttle and move smartly away. Smooth, flexible power to move freely in highway traffic wasn’t a given on his Blast.

When we rolled up on 32, I passed Finn and led down the interchange. I led us through the left and a right to put us on Frederick Road, headed west towards Jefferson.

Considering how the day had started, conditions weren’t half bad — intermittent clouds and sun, dry pavement, and a temperature in the low 50s. Where the interstate removed the hills, 144 slides around them — the road is always rising and falling, and twisting this way or that.

For a young man with a brand new motorcycle, this flat-lighted day was his first opportunity to get to know and bond with his machine.




The time we spent on that rolling road seemed to stretch out that day, a few good minutes seeming to hang in time for a lot longer than they actually were.

At a stop sign I pulled up beside Finn and popped my visor open.

“How’s the CB, man? How are ya liking this road?”

“This thing’s absolutely awesome, Pop. And I’d like the road a lot more if I had any freakin’ idea where I was.”

“That’s cool, Finn. And I know where I am, so I’ll lead. Pick a good following distance, and ride your own pace.”

And so we rolled — moving up and down through the gears, and breaking in the sides of new tires as we crossed first through Howard, then Carroll Counties. That LED headlamp was there in my mirrors, cornering crisply and doing all the right things.




On the other side of Mount Airy, though, things finally went bad. 144 West runs in shadow, it’s tight and it’s twisty, and today it was dark and was cold.

With no warning the rain hit, the temperature dropped sharply, and my biker sense looked at that road and what it saw was slippy not sticky — it was cause for concern.

At the next stop I signaled.

“You want to stop – eat – warmup…or just wanna get home?”

“I’m OK – let’s keep bangin’.”

“OK – weather is going to shit. I’m going to hop back on the highway and we’ll take it back to 340 and home. We’ll make the left up ahead and the ramp is immediately on the right.”

We rolled our bikes back up through the gears and as we merged onto the highway I waved Finn on by. As the rain picked up the temperature dropped into the low 40s. On a naked motorcycle, it couldn’t have been fun.

Not all motorcycle bonding experiences, I guess, have to be pleasant ones. The tough stuff, it seems, is some of what it takes to learn to trust your machine.




As we got closer to Jefferson, the weather continued to display its blatant disregard for our well-being.

Both Finn and I managed to get through the complex interchange at 70 West and US 340 — with its elevated ramps crisscrossed by 5 inch wide steel expansion joints — evil slippery stuff on a rainy day like this. No wiggles, no goofy stuff, no falling down. Just continue to gas it and go.

We maintained positive throttle coming up Dynamometer Hill, and on the other side of the hill we took the exit for home. I pulled ahead as we ran though town, and hit the neighborhood and then the driveway well before Finn.

I dismounted and threw both doors up by the time Finn rolled up.

He rolled the CB into the left bay, blipped the throttle once, again, and then killswitched the bike.

“This is such a nice motorcycle. Thank you. Thank Mom. As soon as I finish school in June, we are GOING on a trip.”

Clearly getting chilled down and dampened hadn’t done anything to hurt Finn’s enthusiasm.

“C’mon man, let me fire the woodstove up and make us some lunch. You can look for someplace for us to ride to while we’re warming up.”

The Costa Mesa Bros got nothin’ on us.