Monday, December 13, 2010

Aprilia RSV4R vs. Yamaha YZF-R1


For their latest liter-class superbikes, Aprilia and Yamaha decided to do things a little differently. Yamaha's Crossplane crankshaft breaks with tradition by positioning the YZF-R1's crankpins at 90-degree intervals, reducing crank-speed fluctuations for more fluid power delivery and improved rear-wheel traction. Aprilia shunned the inline-four arrangement from the beginning, opting to pair the RSV4R's cylinders and splay them at a narrow 65 degrees. Yamaha's improvements to the 2009 R1 earned it our Motorcycle of the Year award and the World Superbike Championship. Aprilia's clean-sheet creation was so strong that it put the Italian manufacturer on the podium nine times after a seven-year hiatus from the world stage. Clearly, being different can be a very good thing.



A cursory comparison of the latest R1 versus its predecessor is disillusioning. Vital details such as horsepower and weight have shifted-but not in the usual direction. Yamaha's flagship superbike swelled to 477 pounds wet and dropped a few ponies during its makeover, but there are tantalizing aspects of the bike that overshadow those transgressions. In addition to the familiar YCC-T ride-by-wire throttle and YCC-I variable-length intake trumpets, the retooled engine gained secondary fuel injectors. Racing technology such as the crankshaft design, the linkage associated with the fully adjustable Soqi shock and the individual damping duties of the fork legs are promising carryovers from Valentino Rossi's YZR-M1 MotoGP bike. The Deltabox twin-spar frame and swingarm were totally redesigned, revising rigidity to complement the characteristics of the "long-bang" powerplant, which churns out 146.2 rear-wheel horsepower at 11,500 rpm.

Aprilia didn't have a MotoGP machine to pattern the RSV4R after, but Honda's RC212V and Ducati's Desmosedici obviously served as proxies. The V4's steep V-angle contributes to a compact engine and leaves plenty of room for the underseat fuel tank, which helps lower the bike's center of gravity and masks the fact that it weighs 473 lbs. with all critical fluids. There's just enough room between those cylinder banks for a quartet of 48mm throttle bodies. Like the R1, the RSV4's throttle plates are operated via electric motors controlled by the ECU, and there are three selectable drive modes.

The base model RSV4R doesn't have the uprated RSV4 Factory's variable-length intake funnels, but the power curve is manipulated by shower-type upper injectors that come into play at 7000 rpm, as well as a backpressure-regulating exhaust valve that opens around the same time. The frame is polished in typical Aprilia style, with a fully adjustable Showa fork up front and a Sachs shock out back. Like weight, geometry and most of the RSV4's other pertinent figures, power output is on par with that of the R1, with 149.0 bhp at 12,250 rpm.
By Ari Henning
Photography by Kevin Wing

BMW R1200GS vs. Ducati Multistrada 1200S


They are as different as any pair of tools designed for the same job can be. Sharpened by three decades of going places that would make most street riders wet themselves, BMW's GS is the original choice for going just about anywhere two wheels can take you. Undeniably huge, inimitably German and currently defined by a stronger twin-cam version of the 1170cc Boxer-twin, the R1200GS looks like an adventure sitting still. Just add 21 contiguous vacation days, a clean American Express card and shake vigorously.


Aside from being manifestly smaller, lighter, faster and explicitly Italian, Ducati's new Multistrada 1200S leaves more than a little room for interpretation. Especially when there's a new GS parked next to it. Are these bikes really different means to the same sort of all-encompassing ends? Or just different? After gnawing on that one for all of 5 minutes, we figured the answer was beyond the fluorescent-lit, climate-controlled splendor of Motorcyclist's El Segundo headquarters. How about Randsburg (population 85 or so, depending on who you ask), a.k.a. our favorite desiccated Mojave Desert gold-mining town, sitting near the coccyx of California's Sierra Nevada range?



That's 150 miles north and east of the MC M.C. as the Gold Wing flies, or 293 for those of us who really do have all day to get there and a couple of motorcycles to wring out. Either way, you end up in a dusty little chunk of 1896, surviving on a powerful combination of self-sufficiency, sheer meanness and savvy tourists rolling up from greater Los Angeles (population 17.8 million if you're still counting) looking for an antidote for urban pre-ignition. Though it's too hot in the summer for all but sun-struck desert rats and the occasional tortoise, mile after mile of legal off-highway vehicle trails make Randsburg a Mecca for Southern California's off-road cognoscenti during the winter. Brace yourself for a crush of happy, dusty people on dirtbikes if you head up on Thanksgiving weekend, but we probably won't push the census needle past 87 on this exceptionally unexceptional Friday afternoon.




Rolling up the San Diego Freeway on cast wheels and street tires with delusions of off-road grandeur, we'll steer clear of the rocky single-track and aim for a rough little rollercoaster of pavement draped across those mountains up ahead, just south of the Tehachapi Pass. Thanks to the miracle of modern fuel injection and electronically adjustable suspension, either bike will put 180-200 relatively humane freeway miles in the rear-view between fuel stops, but the BMW feels more comfortable doing it. That goes double for anybody taller than 5-foot-8.


Roomier in every dimension, including the pocket of acceptably calm air in its cockpit, the Beemer trundles along between 70 and 80 mph with just a whiff of vibration from the engine room. The mirrors provide relatively clear images of looming cement trucks and CHP cruisers, unlike the Multistrada's frustratingly undecipherable blurs. The Ducati's seat is comfortable enough to keep most riders happy for 2 or 3 hours, but there's considerably less fore/aft fidgeting room. That slim adjustable windscreen allows more turbulence into the cockpit than we'd like, but the airflow evens out a bit beyond 75 mph. It's enough to get by until you save enough lunch money for the larger one in the accessory catalog.

First Ride: 2011 Triumph Tiger 800 XC


Forget everything you know about any earlier Triumph with Tiger on its tank. Triumph did. One sighting lap of the bike outside our four-star base camp 45 minutes west of Barcelona and even hopelessly jet-lagged eyes can see this is an entirely different animal. Though they will share showroom space in 2011, the new Tiger 800 and the more dirt-worthy 800XC share about as many visual and functional similarities with the street-biased Tiger 1050 as they do with a 1967 TR6/C.


When they started turning a fistful of ideas into what you see here back in April 2007, Hinckley's engineers knew these Tigers had to be different from anything they'd done before. They needed top-notch pavement manners and credible off-road performance. Customers were pleading for an accessible seat height. Switchable ABS had to be on the options list. Both bikes would rise from the same basic three-cylinder platform, but according to Triumph Product Manager Simon Warburton, "We didn't have an engine for the kind of bike we wanted to build." So? They built a new one.


The Tiger's 12-valve inline-triple shares its basic floor plan with the Daytona 675, along with about 15 percent of that engine's parts manifest: 74mm cylinder bores, wet-sump lubrication, stacked gearbox shafts, buzz-killing balance shaft ahead of the new long-stroke crank. It uses the same connecting rods and cylinder-head casting as well, along with the same sort of labyrinth crankcase breather behind the cylinders. Goodbye, dipstick: A sight glass on the right side of the sump reveals oil level. Most everything else is new. An oil-cooled 645-watt alternator provides 61 percent more juice than the one in BMW's F800GS-enough electrical impetus to run auxiliary lights, a GPS, electric vests and various other adventurous paraphernalia without flattening the battery. Running the swingarm pivot through the crankcase casting simplifies the steel-tube frame.


Steel? Aside from being tougher than aluminum, it's easier to find a good TIG welder if you break something in Saskatoon or Puntas Arenas. The 800XC rides on a 45mm non-adjustable fork followed by a remote-reservoir shock that offer more travel than the base Tiger 800 bits. Off-road-ready wire-spoke wheels wear Bridgestone Battle Wing rubber. The 21-inch front and extra-long adjustment slots in the aluminum swingarm give the XC more dirt-friendly chassis geometry than the standard Tiger.



One more double triple-espresso brings my caffeine levels up to scratch and it's time to see if all those parts add up to anything. With the seat in its tallest position, the Tiger XC is markedly taller than a Tiger 800. Its tapered aluminum handlebar is wider as well. There's plenty of room for long arms and legs, even with the two-position bar risers in the standard slot. The compact instrument pod crams a lot of information into relatively little space if you're willing to squint. Awakening more readily than a jet-lagged journalist, the triple settles into its signature cadence like a pint-sized British turbine. The spec sheet says a fully fueled XC weighs 473 lbs.-11 more than the standard Tiger and an alleged 18 lbs. more than BMW's listed wet weight for the 2011 F800GS, though it feels lighter from the saddle.



Two quick tips about riding in Spain: Most Spaniards drive like lunatics, and the majority of Spanish pavement offers roughly as much grip as a granite countertop. No worries: Whistling into a high-speed gauntlet of off-camber on-ramps, Seat Ibiza diesels and homicidal truck drivers channeling Fernando Alonso, the Tiger is relaxed. It takes a bit more effort to flick the taller XC through a Spanish roundabout as quickly as its standard brother, and there are a few minor chinks in its urban armor. The front brake feels a bit spongy, and on/off throttle transitions could be smoother. Beyond that, the triple responds to a fistful of throttle with digital precision, laying down a steady stream of practical power from 1800 rpm. First gear feels a bit tall around town, and the clutch could engage a little sooner. On the plus side, shifting is ridiculously light and precise when you need to shift at all. There's sufficient torque on tap above 3000 rpm to make shifting optional unless you're in a hurry, which we apparently are.




Maintaining an authentic Spanish pace keeps the tach needle in the fun zone above 6000 rpm. The Tiger leaves slower traffic sprinting up to autopista speed. Compliant suspension delivers a comfortably taut ride. Long gearing keeps the counterbalanced triple nice and smooth at 75 mph. The standard windscreen does an admirable job at that speed, but 6-footers will opt for Triumph's taller, wider accessory unit.

Arcing off into the twisty bits, the XC rails around fast bends. With some extra spring preload and rebound damping dialed into the shock, it's agile enough in the tight ones to make you want to turn around and have another go. The front brake still feels too spongy for our taste, but unlike some other mid-size adventurers with this much suspension travel, there's no pucker-inducing chassis pitch when you're trying to scrub off 60 mph for a looming second-gear switchback. Nothing drags at the apex, but fair warning: Launch this triple out of a dozen bends like that at 8000 rpm and you're ruined for anything else.


The next 12 miles of rutted, rocky, washout-infested dirt could ruin everything. But shod with a set of suitably knobby Metzeler Karoos, the XC makes anything more feel like a whole lot less. Reined to a semi-sane pace, it's sure-footed and responsive enough to go around anything basic physics says you can't go over or through. Surfing the fat part of the torque curve in second gear with a half-tank of gas and another narrow-gauge rollercoaster of smooth Spanish pavement to ride before dinner, one thing seems fairly certain: If there's a better motorcycle for this sort of thing, we haven't ridden it yet.
By Tim Carrithers
Photography by Paul Barshon, Alessio Barbanti

First Ride: 2011 Ducati 848 EVO


It gave me pause when I glanced down before my first track session and noted the odometer displaying exactly 666 miles. With black-on-black graphics and a snarling V-twin exhaust note that sounds like something piped straight from the depths of hell, Ducati's 848 EVO could have been designed by Beelzebub himself. Cracking the throttle only sealed my deal with the devil, as the front wheel mimicked the rapidly rising tach needle. "Forgive me, safety marshals, for I have sinned ... before even exiting pit lane!"


It's hard to ignore the little demon that appears on your shoulder when riding the EVO, a potent update to Ducati's venerable middleweight Superbike. The 848 has found fame this year in fiercely competitive AMA Daytona Sportbike competition, with Steve Rapp earning multiple podiums and Bobby Fong one-upping him with a win at Virginia International Raceway. Ducati has been paying attention to the results, and the company says feedback from these AMA racing efforts directly influenced this latest evolution of the platform.



The majority of changes are found inside the Testastretta Evoluzione engine, specifically at the top end. Alterations include freer-flowing cylinder heads and new pistons with a revised crown shape to increase compression from 12.0 to 13.2:1. Enlarged, 60mm elliptical throttle bodies replace last year's 56mm units, delivering the air/fuel mixture to revised combustion chambers via higher-lift, longer-duration cams that actuate the same desmodromic valve train. Peak output is now 140 horsepower and 72.3 lb.-ft. of torque (an increase of 6 bhp and 2 lb.-ft.), and the new, rev-happy engine character makes this Ducati's liveliest twin yet.


Modest chassis improvements complete this evolutionary update. Front brakes are upgraded from two-pad Brembo calipers to the stronger, four-pad Monoblocs from the 1198. A non-adjustable steering damper is now bolted across the upper triple clamp, enhancing stability. Lastly, the tire spec switches from Pirelli's Supercorsa Pro to the line-leading Diablo Supercorsa SP, which offers a steeper profile for quicker turn-in and a larger contact patch at lean to deliver track-ready grip and feedback.

Ergonomically, the EVO is identical to the old 848. The riding position is best described as purposeful, defined by a tall, firm saddle, high, rearset footpegs and low, wide bars. The squat upper fairing requires a tight tuck before relinquishing any meaningful wind protection. Thankfully, the flat, wide tank is easy to wrap around, and deep knee cutouts make it easy to lock your legs in place when the going gets good.


The faster you go, the better this riding position feels. Likewise, the chassis responds favorably as velocity increases. With a rangy front-center distance, a stiff, high-riding Showa fork and 36mm-offset triple clamps, the 848 resists turning unless there's a reasonable load on the front end. Keeping your body weight forward, however, and taking advantage of those beefy brakes and sticky tires to run hard into corners reveals what might be the most stable, predictable and communicative front end on any production streetbike. The EVO positively railed the downhill Dead Bear carousel at Putnam Park, where we sampled the bike during a Ducati track day following the Indianapolis MotoGP.

Ducati claims the 848 EVO's high-rpm power gains come without any significant low-end losses. We haven't seen a dyno chart, but from the saddle it still feels sufficiently stout even at low revs, which makes pedaling the shift lever less critical than on a multi-cylinder middleweight. And, just like we've seen in AMA competition this year, the torquey twin leaps off corners and leaves even well-ridden 600s eating dust.



Like any twin, it's easy to get lazy and let that low-end torque lug you around. Short shifting, however, masks the bike's greatest attribute: its willingness to rev. The freer-breathing top end makes the EVO absolutely come alive at 8500 rpm, and it screams across the top of the tach with an appetite for revs that no big twin can match. The 848 engine is more accessible at the same time. The 1198's output is so overwhelming that it's difficult to find an opportunity-or the real estate-to hold the throttle wide-open and relish the twin's unique top-end rush. The 848 EVO encourages this behavior, reminding us how satisfying a middleweight V-twin can be.


We've often argued that Ducati's 848 Superbike is the better choice for many street and track-day riders, delivering the same world championship-caliber performance as the 1198 in a lighter, more manageable package. Now with more power and an even livelier engine character, the 848 EVO only makes that argument stronger. And there's no denying the value it represents: Even after the engine and chassis upgrades, MSRP remains unchanged at $12,995 for the Dark Stealth edition or $13,995 in traditional Ducati red.

Take that to mean you won't have to sell your soul to the devil to afford one.
By Aaron Frank
Photography by Andrea Wilson

Suzuki DL1000 V-Strom


Lying on my back next to the downed DL1000 in the city of Capetown, South Africa, all I could think of was the scene from Black Hawk Down, where the first helicopter plunges to earth and the locals begin to converge. I'd not seen the diesel fuel on the road, but I did notice the African citizens advancing on my position after the bike and I had stopped sliding down the road. Clutching the walkie-talkie we were given in case of trouble, I gave the command I never thought I'd have to give, "Bald Eagle to Rising Sun, we have a V-Strom down. Repeat. We have a V-Strom down." Thankfully, the Suzuki folks were right behind us, and like a military extraction team they descended upon my location in seconds, spiriting away the fallen DL1000 before the enemy could capture it and replacing it with a brand-new bike.

The DL1000 V-Strom is, of course, Suzuki's newest weapon in the war against Aprilia, BMW and Triumph (and Honda in Europe) in the do-it-all SUV adventure-tourer class. Some call them "trailies," others say "off-road sport," but Suzuki calls it "Sport Enduro Tourer." And in case you were wondering what "Strom" means, it's not a reference to a certain senator but the German word for "stream of wind." Alrighty, then.


Giving credence to the word "sport" in Suzuki's V-Strom marketing material is the use of the notorious TL1000S engine, a 996cc motor renowned for its ability to send tremendous power to the rear tire, resulting in longer life for the front tire-if you catch our drift. In V-Strom guise, the 90-degree motor has received a raft of improvements: Intake-valve diameter and lift have been reduced for improved midrange, and the TL's cast-aluminum pistons were jettisoned in favor of forged units similar to the GSX-R1000's. The connecting rods have lost some weight, and the throttle bodies have been shrunk to 45mm from the 52mm units on the TL, while Suzuki's patented Dual Throttle Valve (SDTV) system has been added to help ensure a perfect fuel/air mixture and, thusly, power delivery regardless of throttle position or gear selection. TLs were a touch abrupt, doncha know.

Everything else on the V-Strom is brand, spankin' new. The twin-spar aluminum frame helps keep claimed dry weight down to a slim 455 pounds, which, for reference, is 110 pounds lighter than BMW's R1150GS. A nonadjustable 43mm fork resides up front, with the rear shock offering preload and rebound adjustability. Now-du jour underseat exhausts poke out nicely below the factory luggage rack, and Suzuki says Givi will produce aftermarket hard bags for the bike-a necessity when taking on the big players in this category.


Plop down in the saddle and the immediate feeling is that you are large and in charge. The V-Strom's seat is soft and, for the class, at least, fairly low at 33.1 inches. I'm five-foot-nine and am able to touch the balls of my feet on the ground, putting me in total control at stoplights. The bars are tall and the pegs are low, creating a comfortable seating position. Up front lies an instrument panel with dual analog gauges with idiot lights in between, a clock and dual tripmeters. The medium-height windscreen rises up to approximately midhelmet, though Suzuki says an even taller screen will be available for windophobes. Aboard, the bike definitely felt smaller than photos would have you believe.

As our convoy pulled out of the Capetown resort, the V-Strom felt perfectly adapted to city work. Unlike other bikes in the class, the Suzuki seems lithe and sporty, offering steering that's quick and neutral along with ample torque for squirting in and out of traffic. In South Africa it's legal to pass cars on either side (though most cars simply move over to let you go by), and the V-Strom had no trouble passing anything, even at lower revs. The wide-set mirrors offered a perfectly clear view of the scenery behind, and only got buzzy when we were forced to rev the motor up to its 9500-rpm redline, which wasn't often. Speaking of buzz, the entire bike gets a little fuzzy at the top of the tach dial, just like the TL1000S, and though the bike makes good power up top, there's so much available down low that it's usually not necessary to rev it unless you're really in a jam. There's surprising power even as low as 3000 rpm; it'll pull wheelies at 1500 rpm in first gear just like-you guessed it-the TL1000S. Keep the bike between 5000 and 7000 rpm in the higher gears and you're really moving, and like any recent Suzuki, the fuel injection is flawless-no surging or hiccups were experienced at any time.


The two-piston-based front brakes worked as you'd expect, though my first chance to really test them was during something I'd never have expected: ostrich evasion. We were riding along the coast toward the Cape of Good Hope and suddenly there were five ostriches running next to us. "Pretty cool," I thought-until two of them veered into the road right in front of us. The brakes did their job just fine, and offer Rottweiler bite with heaps of linear power. The dual-piston rear brake works well, too.

From the coast we headed inland for some of South Africa's best curvy roads-think California's Highway 1 from Cambria to Monterey, but with no police or traffic-and here is where performance was somewhat of a letdown, at least compared with my expectations. The bike felt planted being tipped into corners, but after the first several degrees of lean it gave off a sense of instability that forced me to back off a bit. The "problem," which is really more of a "category tradeoff," is the bike's basic set-up specification, which includes semiknobby, dual-sport tires, a 19-inch front wheel/tire up front and its comparatively tall stature. Still, ridden with smooth throttle- and braking-hands, the V-Strom can be a hoot in the twisties.


Suspension action was first-rate, the fork and shock soaking up small and medium-sized bumps without ever getting out of control or bottoming. Spring rates seem well-suited for the bike's basic mission; the bike never feels too soft or too stiff, and seems to have that sometimes- elusive combination of compliance and control. The rear shock features a handy remote adjustment knob for preload, but we never felt the need to crank on it throughout our two-day test ride.

Heading home from the coast (and the ostriches), we hit the freeway to save time. Flying past the shanty towns and cars that kept moving out of our way, the V-Strom was definitely in its element. This is a highly comfortable bike with excellent wind protection, even though some of the Europeans complained about wind buffeting due to the medium-sized windscreen. (Then again, they drink tea.) The Americans, however, loved it on the freeway. The V-Strom has a tall sixth gear that puts the tach around 4000 rpm at approximately 90 mph. There's also very little vibration coming through the bars at speed. Fuel mileage was hard to judge because the Suzuki engineers kept refueling our bikes every time we stopped for a bit of Crocodile sausage or Monkey Gland soup, but for one stretch I rode 65 miles and only one of the five fuel bars disappeared from the digital gauge. With its 5.8-gallon tank and comfortable perch, the V-Strom is arguably the best sport-touring bike in Suzuki's lineup. (Sorry, Bandit fans.)


Suzuki wasn't interested in letting us try the bike in an off-road situation, so we'll have to presume it's like the others in the genre; not great in the dirt, but certainly capable enough on fire roads and wide trails where the surface is smooth.

Aside from the nasty getoff (my first ever), riding the V-Strom was an enlightening experience. I have to learn to put aside my preconceived notions about nonsportbikes, because the manufacturers keep making me look foolish by making bikes that aren't hardcore sportbikes, but are still light, powerful and, most of all, way-fun to ride. This thing definitely fits that bill.

MC Test: Honda VFR1200F


Like any of us who've been around for a while, Honda's VFR has changed. Meet one on the street and you'd never guess it was once the VF750F that tossed the sportbike world on its collective head in 1983. There's no hint of Fred Merkel's '85 AMA Superbike Championship, Wayne Rainey's five-straight wins in '86, or the 190-mph RC45 that won eight of 10 races under Miguel DuHamel in '95. Look closely and you can catch a glint of the broadband '98 VFR800. But beyond that three-letter prefix and its basic engine configuration, this VFR bears no resemblance to its illustrious ancestors.


For starters, it's big. Slide it out of the garage into a 5:37 a.m. sunrise and you're straddling 594 pounds of Honda V4 evolution. Chief stylist Toshiaki Kishi's work may be something of an acquired taste, but you can kill a whole cup of coffee watching high-desert light slide across those compound curves and play games with the candy-red paint. A tidy, streamlined dash conveys everything you need to know about what's going on underneath with customary Honda efficiency. We're not so crazy about the extra-large horn button where your left thumb thinks the turn-signal switch should be. But put your right thumb on the starter button and all is forgiven.

A little fly-by-wire throttle brings up the inimitable V4 harmonics: flat, raspy and metallic at idle. That lever on the left bar means this is the standard VFR, complete with a slipper clutch controlled by your left hand instead of the computer in charge of Honda's optional Dual Clutch Transmission. Your left boot commands a six-speed gearbox that goes into first easily enough, but second requires premeditated effort, especially under power. Don't rush or you'll miss it. There's enough driveline lash to make the daily stop-and-go grind more abrasive without a smooth throttle hand. The good news? There's enough power above 2000 rpm to make shifting mostly optional around town. And above 12 mph the whole package feels at least 120 lbs. lighter.

Flowing through downtown traffic like some great red shark, the VFR feels more athletic than it looks. Steering is light; lighter with something less than a full fuel payload. Give it a whiff of digital throttle above 4000 rpm and the big V4 turns here into there without raising its voice. Honda's Combined Braking System and ABS make stopping the proceedings just as easy, modulating the brakes faster and more accurately than the best human circuitry. Doubt it? Once that technology stops you short of the garbage truck that just blew a light in some greasy, rain-soaked intersection, you'll believe. Suspension is somewhat less sophisticated: benevolent enough on any civilized urban surface, but overly enthusiastic-and regrettably non-adjustable -compression damping sends every nasty bump, hole and seam right up your spine.

On the freeway, the Honda feels taut and solid. With 70 mph showing on the speedometer in sixth, the V4 loafs along at 4100 rpm, with just enough mechanical presence to let you know there's an engine down there. Drop down to fifth or fourth if you like. Traffic shrinks rapidly in the crystal-clear rear-view mirrors and the exhaust note goes up an octave or two. Otherwise? No difference. Ergonomics strike an equitable balance between sporting control and long-playing comfort. Rolling into a stiff headwind under black clouds and stinging rain, the VFR's faring bends atmospheric ugliness around you without creating annoying eddies or turbulence of its own. Hand protection could be better and heated grips better still. But after 150 miles, it's all about the things you don't notice-starting with the most comfortable place to sit ever attached to a sporting motorcycle. Our advice to aftermarket makers who think they can build a better seat: Don't waste your time. After 165 miles, the human part of this equation is ready for 165 more, except it's time to start looking for a gas station. The only chink in the VFR's transcontinental armor is range. A prudent right hand can squeeze 210 miles out of its 4.9-gallon fuel payload; beyond that prepare to get off and push. Better to top off before you bite into your favorite cop-forsaken stretch of twisty bits.

Somewhere between the first corner and the third, a couple of things become clear: 1) Some wicked-smart people stayed up past bedtime to make this big boy handle like something smaller; and 2) Not even Honda R&D can repeal the laws of physics. Steering is light, but wick it up when the road starts doubling back on itself and all the weight you lost at 13 mph comes right back. That's no big deal as long as you remember this much motorcycle needs more time and real estate to turn than, say, a CBR100RR. The VFR prefers fast, sweeping corners to cut-and-thrust work, but it will still drop BMW's new K1300S like a bad habit in the tight stuff.

Lucky for you, the VFR's brakes are brilliant. A bit short in terms of initial bite, they're long on predictable linear power and reassuring feel. With two fingers on the lever, stopping power is exactly equal to how hard you squeeze. That same equation holds whether you're scrubbing off speed for the fourth corner of the morning or the 104th. ABS intervention is noticeable-especially on dry, grippy tarmac-but never invasive. Peg-feelers touch down periodically in take-no-prisoners mode, but don't play the cornering-clearance card if you can't keep up with the faster kids. You can't blame the tires either. Dunlop's Roadsmart radials generate as much grip as any sane, skilled human can use on the street.

The VFR is sneaky fast. It has more than enough muscle to smoke that big back tire exiting slow corners if you must, but there's no apoplectic top-end rush. Instead, the V4 lays down useable steam all the way from 3000 rpm to 10,200. Revs rise more rapidly above 7000, making it tough to coax a full-power upshift out of the obstinate six-speed without running into the rev limiter at 10,500. Downshifts are easier, and the slipper clutch is nice, but this bike deserves better. More comfortable than a race-replica supersport and sportier than other sport-tourers, the VFR is a V4-shaped wedge designed to open up a lucrative little niche in between. For those who find themselves somewhere between dragging their knees on the ground and a Modern Maturity subscription, that sounds like one prime location.
By Tim Carrithers
Photography by Kevin Wing

Fuel Glossary

Fuel Glossary

Fuel Glossary

Aromatics:
This is a type of chemical compound referred to as a cyclic organic due to it's circular structure. They are found in nearly all gasolines, normally as toluene. Xylene is less common, and benzene is restricted to very low levels due to toxicity.

Distillation:
A gasoline contains various hydrocarbons that boil at different temperatures. As a result, the gasoline boiling range can extend from 800F to a maximum of 437F. This is in contrast to water that bolls only at 212F at sea level.

Octane Numbers:

Octane Number
Definition: A value used to indicate the resistance of a motor fuel to knock. Octane numbers are based on a scale on which isooctane is 100 (minimal knock) and heptane is 0 (bad knock). Also Known As: Octane Rating

Example: A gasoline with an octane number of 92 has the same knock as a mixture of 92% isooctane and 8% heptane.

Research Octane Number (RON)
is measured under mild conditions and is more important in controlling part throttle knock.

Motor Octane Number (MON)
is measured under more severe conditions and is most important for octane satisfaction at wide open throttle.

Anti-Knock Index (AKI)
is the average of the RON and MON. This is the number posted on the retail gasoline pumps normally indicating 87, 89, or 92 octane. Racing gasoline have AKI's from 100 to 118.

Oxygenated Compounds:
These are required in street gasolines in many areas of the U.S. to help reduce exhaust emissions. The two most common oxygenated compounds are Methyl Tertiary Butyl Ether (MTBE) and Ethanol (This is an alcohol).

Reid Vapor Pressure (RVP):
Normally measured in psi, RVP is a measure of the front end volatility of the (RVP)gasoline. This is important for getting a carburetor car started in cold weather. Summer RVP = 7 psi, and winter RVP = 13.5 psi.

Specific Gravity:
Measures the density of gasoline compared to water A specific gravity of 0.720 means that the gasoline weighs 0.72 times as much as water, or it is 72% of the weight of water. Most gasolines weigh about 6.2 pounds per gallon.

Volatility:
Used in referring to the ease with which a gasoline turns from a liquid to a vapor. Low volatility refers to low RVP, indicating less light hydrocarbons in the gasoline front end. Southern California summer grade gasolines have low volatility. Winter grade gasolines in Michigan are high volatility, or high RVP to make the engine easier to start in sub-zero temperatures.