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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
‘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.
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 Weather.com 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.