Every day lately I've been riding to work, alternating between the CB1100 and XSR900. I take the same back roads, and I can't put my finger on it, but the CB ride is just more enjoyable every time.
It doesn't really make sense, either. The XSR is so much lighter and faster. It does everything more easily, and the front brakes never squeal. It sits more comfortably, with the bar risers. Still, somehow, the CB just feels more right. It feels more sophisticated to me. It certainly loves the more sedate speeds I'm doing on those rides. It's perfectly smooth, composed, unruffled, and relaxed, while still imparting a subtle yet unmistakable mechanical authority, both in sound and feel.
I really love how it sounds and feels anywhere below seventy mph. I also really love when the sun shines on the chrome and aluminum dash, with those large, classic instruments. I only wish mine had the green faces, to make them even cooler-looking.
My buddy was standing beside her the other day with his arms folded, quietly studying her. He looks for things to nitpick. That's just what he does, with everything.
"Okay, I have to come up with something to criticize," he said, finally. "I know you say the tail light thing has to be that way, to match the '70s look and the federal regulations or whatever, but I wish it didn't stick out so far. That's the only thing I can find.
"Otherwise, I think I like this one more than the Yamaha. I really like the Yamaha, but this one is just..I don't know. This one is so cool."
Standing next to him, I nodded in agreement. I like the CB more than I like the Yamaha. The Yamaha ought to be a lot more fun, since it's so much faster, but I seem to find just as much enjoyment from the Honda's motor.
It's definitely growing on me. That big ol' lump in all its antiquated finery is just pure goodness, to the bone.
The brake squealing remains her only flaw. It's much less than before, following my dealer's fix, but still pops its annoying head up now and then. Three nights ago, it did it a lot. Last night, it didn't do it at all.
Grrrr.
The other night I ran the tank down to seven miles showing on the countdown meter, then it switched to the ' - - ' reading. Not sure what that reading is supposed to indicate in terms of remaining miles/fuel, but I pulled in shortly thereafter. Standing the bike up dead straight, I overfilled the tank, to where there was a bit of fuel in the filler area. It accepted 4.06 gallons, after 157 miles. So, a bit less than forty mpg, which surprised me, since there was no sportriding on that tankful of gas. Judging from the miles and fuel reading, I would have needed to eke out another sixteen miles before I would have been able to add the remaining four-tenths of a gallon of gas that my tank will supposedly hold.
I'm getting the feeling that I'll probably never be able to do the full 4.44 gallons my tank supposedly holds. Still, this was the first time I was able to add four gallons, so at least I know it holds more than the tank on the previous models, the '14 DLX excepted.
The main thing is that as I was riding those beautiful back roads yesterday I was asking myself, "What would I rather be riding right now? Is there anything?"
I knew the XSR wasn't the answer. I was wondering how the Ninja 1000 would feel on that same ride, before deciding that the CB's seating position and the cockpit visuals are just so much more pleasing. In the end, the only possibility I came up with was the R1200RT. That bike remains the one motorcycle I still really want, or I think I really want, anyway, mainly as a no-excuses, hardbags-equipped, shaft-drive, huge gas tank/great range, serious tourer.
Other than that one, and maybe the Z900, there is nothing else I'd rather ride now, and the Z900 would look like a gargoyle sitting beside Monica.
Once I arrived home and shut her off, I reluctantly hopped off. I couldn't walk away, either. I felt compelled to walk around her, taking in all her pretty details. I fired her right back up and blipped the throttle, just to hear her seductive little growl. Her motor looked so good, as did all that shining chrome. The tank was positively resplendent in all its dazzling red brilliance.
What a deeply beautiful thing, the CB1100. On the bike, off the bike...doesn't matter. Her beauty is so much more than skin-deep.
It doesn't really make sense, either. The XSR is so much lighter and faster. It does everything more easily, and the front brakes never squeal. It sits more comfortably, with the bar risers. Still, somehow, the CB just feels more right. It feels more sophisticated to me. It certainly loves the more sedate speeds I'm doing on those rides. It's perfectly smooth, composed, unruffled, and relaxed, while still imparting a subtle yet unmistakable mechanical authority, both in sound and feel.
I really love how it sounds and feels anywhere below seventy mph. I also really love when the sun shines on the chrome and aluminum dash, with those large, classic instruments. I only wish mine had the green faces, to make them even cooler-looking.
My buddy was standing beside her the other day with his arms folded, quietly studying her. He looks for things to nitpick. That's just what he does, with everything.
"Okay, I have to come up with something to criticize," he said, finally. "I know you say the tail light thing has to be that way, to match the '70s look and the federal regulations or whatever, but I wish it didn't stick out so far. That's the only thing I can find.
"Otherwise, I think I like this one more than the Yamaha. I really like the Yamaha, but this one is just..I don't know. This one is so cool."
Standing next to him, I nodded in agreement. I like the CB more than I like the Yamaha. The Yamaha ought to be a lot more fun, since it's so much faster, but I seem to find just as much enjoyment from the Honda's motor.
It's definitely growing on me. That big ol' lump in all its antiquated finery is just pure goodness, to the bone.
The brake squealing remains her only flaw. It's much less than before, following my dealer's fix, but still pops its annoying head up now and then. Three nights ago, it did it a lot. Last night, it didn't do it at all.
Grrrr.
The other night I ran the tank down to seven miles showing on the countdown meter, then it switched to the ' - - ' reading. Not sure what that reading is supposed to indicate in terms of remaining miles/fuel, but I pulled in shortly thereafter. Standing the bike up dead straight, I overfilled the tank, to where there was a bit of fuel in the filler area. It accepted 4.06 gallons, after 157 miles. So, a bit less than forty mpg, which surprised me, since there was no sportriding on that tankful of gas. Judging from the miles and fuel reading, I would have needed to eke out another sixteen miles before I would have been able to add the remaining four-tenths of a gallon of gas that my tank will supposedly hold.
I'm getting the feeling that I'll probably never be able to do the full 4.44 gallons my tank supposedly holds. Still, this was the first time I was able to add four gallons, so at least I know it holds more than the tank on the previous models, the '14 DLX excepted.
The main thing is that as I was riding those beautiful back roads yesterday I was asking myself, "What would I rather be riding right now? Is there anything?"
I knew the XSR wasn't the answer. I was wondering how the Ninja 1000 would feel on that same ride, before deciding that the CB's seating position and the cockpit visuals are just so much more pleasing. In the end, the only possibility I came up with was the R1200RT. That bike remains the one motorcycle I still really want, or I think I really want, anyway, mainly as a no-excuses, hardbags-equipped, shaft-drive, huge gas tank/great range, serious tourer.
Other than that one, and maybe the Z900, there is nothing else I'd rather ride now, and the Z900 would look like a gargoyle sitting beside Monica.
Once I arrived home and shut her off, I reluctantly hopped off. I couldn't walk away, either. I felt compelled to walk around her, taking in all her pretty details. I fired her right back up and blipped the throttle, just to hear her seductive little growl. Her motor looked so good, as did all that shining chrome. The tank was positively resplendent in all its dazzling red brilliance.
What a deeply beautiful thing, the CB1100. On the bike, off the bike...doesn't matter. Her beauty is so much more than skin-deep.
