B
Black7
Guest
I don’t know if there ever was a link between Honda and the eponymous brewer of Scandinavian lager ...but it’s tempting to think there might have been a can or two hanging around the Honda design team canteen around 1996. How else could they have come up with something as extraordinary and one-off as the Blackbird proved to be?
There have been moments in engineering like it before – RJ Mitchell’s Spitfire, or Ford’s GT40:violin:. Things that are more than just the sum of their parts; machines that do more than you ask; technology with soul, benchmarks of quality. It’s not a linear thing – not smooth evolution. Take the new VFR 1200 as an example - more of an ugly awkward, over complicated backward leap that a step forward to my mind.
Perhaps it’s not up to the engineers or designers, perhaps every so many years things just come together at random (or under alcoholic inspiration) to produce the exceptional. They certainly did with the CBR 1100XX. And, just like the Spitfire, while it can be overtaken, it cannot really be replaced.
Yesterday, something happened that proves it. A mate and I took a trip to our local Bike Bandit (AKA dealership) and borrowed the two fastest bikes in the world; a brand new 2011 ZZR1400 with 40 miles on the clock and a 2011 Hyabusa with about the same. It was a fine, if windy day and we figured we’d have a play on some familiar riding territory in North Wiltshire.
I took the ZZR, he hopped on the ’Busa, and we did a 60 mile loop taking in country lanes, fast A roads and a short stretch of the M4. I didn’t ride the Suzuki - my real interest was in comparing the Kawasaki with my own Blackbird.
I was part expecting to come away wanting the new bike. After all, there had been plenty of hype, and I love large capacity machines with lots of power and which could handle well. The black and green paint scheme was the dog’s danglers too. Just brilliant. R#?
It felt like an illicit affair, with the ‘wife’ safely garaged while I was running around the countryside with a younger model. I felt disloyal and dirty, in an agreeable weekend-in-Brighton-sort-of-way. Yet, at the end of the day, when I flipped up the garage door, I knew the Blackbird would not be going. Here’s why.
The Kawasaki (like many of its forebears) is all about the engine. Or, more accurately, about going and stopping. Fuelling is crisp; acceleration is rapid and gear changes silky smooth. Progress is effortless, sending the rider surging down the road on rising a tide of power. But, just in case this tide carries you into trouble, it slows as fast as it goes; powerful radial brakes hauling the bike down from licence losing speeds as quickly as if you had just chucked the titanic’s anchor out.
The ZZR is also more up to date in terms of instrumentation and adjustability than the Honda; it looks more modern, feels lighter and more flickable. Front forks are adjustable over a number of parameters; there is a gear indicator, voltmeter and trip computer. Styling is aggressive and street cred established. Not hard to see why it’s a popular machine, and in a number of separate areas of engineering, it is an advance on the ‘Bird.
But here’s the rub. The difficult to explain and harder to define part. When I asked myself whether I would trade the bird for the Kwacker, I didn’t have to think long. Not A Chance. No Way. Never.
It could have been the less planted feel of the Kawasaki. The 1400cc machine wobbled like a drunk at New Year’s in side winds, especially on the motorway, and although it would turn in faster than the Bird, never felt so fluid through the bends. Ride comfort, while not bad, was also not in Blackbird territory. For a short Sunday blast it was a fine, but there was no doubt in my mind which machine I’d rather munch more miles on.
It could also have been down to poorer build quality. The Kawasaki’s low grade metal fasteners had already begun to discolour at just 40 miles, while the chain guard looked as though it had last done service on a kid’s push-bike. Paint finish on wheels and engine were also poor and unlikely to last its first winter. Big contrast there to the CBR1100, the paintwork and stainless steel fastenings of which are still shining brightly on my 11 year old machine (and yes, it is ridden through winter).
Even in the areas it’s good at; engine, transmission and brakes; the ZZR is still not that much better than the ‘Bird to make a change worth-while. This is true even in terms of its ultimate claim to fame; speed and acceleration. If pushed, the Kawasaki is certainly faster, especially at the upper end of the dial. Question is; how much time are most riders likely to spend there? At more real world speeds (40-100 mph, say) the two bikes are pretty much comparable. This ‘everyday rideability’ difference is important. Even though the bottom end on the big K has been improved over the pre 2008 models, it still doesn’t feel anymore smooth or powerful than its 11 year old rival. On the road, the outcome of any meeting would be down to the rider.:-0)
But the truth is, the difference between the two bikes is more than any number of carefully collected facts. In the end it comes down to the indefinable joy of the Blackbird experience; something total, something completely absorbing, where all the characteristics of the machine come together in something that is complete and about as perfect as anything made by man can be. The Honda allows a complete merging of rider and machine; with the Kawasaki, its still rider and bike. Together, but separate. A Spitfire pilot once told me that you didn’t feel you’d climbed into the cockpit of a Spitfire and taken off; it was more like strapping its wings onto you back and flying away. Same thing with the big Honda.
So here is the question that’s as perplexing and as mysterious as the genesis of the Blackbird itself; why on earth did Honda stop making it? At a time when average rider age is lengthening, the Bird makes so much sense; an attractive package that combines looks and performance, the power of a sports bike but with the comfort of a tourer to cosset aged bones. And all that at a very reasonable price.
The Blackbird just does it all; power is smooth, finely balanced between low down grunt and top end, reaching levels fast enough for the blue lights brigade to take an unhealthy interest in your licence. Handling is supple, yet planted and comfortable even on spending cut hit British roads. It all comes together is a way that’s civilised yet exciting; powerful and elegant. The Kawasaki was fast but without the finesse. If the Kawa is the Bullet Train, the Blackbird is the Orient Express.
It seems to me that what Honda need to do next is simple. Get half a dozen top designers together with some actual Blackbird owners, lay in some Danish lager:beer: and resurrect the best bike that ever rode the tarmac of this world. With apparently no real completion the market is wide open.k1ap
There have been moments in engineering like it before – RJ Mitchell’s Spitfire, or Ford’s GT40:violin:. Things that are more than just the sum of their parts; machines that do more than you ask; technology with soul, benchmarks of quality. It’s not a linear thing – not smooth evolution. Take the new VFR 1200 as an example - more of an ugly awkward, over complicated backward leap that a step forward to my mind.
Perhaps it’s not up to the engineers or designers, perhaps every so many years things just come together at random (or under alcoholic inspiration) to produce the exceptional. They certainly did with the CBR 1100XX. And, just like the Spitfire, while it can be overtaken, it cannot really be replaced.
Yesterday, something happened that proves it. A mate and I took a trip to our local Bike Bandit (AKA dealership) and borrowed the two fastest bikes in the world; a brand new 2011 ZZR1400 with 40 miles on the clock and a 2011 Hyabusa with about the same. It was a fine, if windy day and we figured we’d have a play on some familiar riding territory in North Wiltshire.
I took the ZZR, he hopped on the ’Busa, and we did a 60 mile loop taking in country lanes, fast A roads and a short stretch of the M4. I didn’t ride the Suzuki - my real interest was in comparing the Kawasaki with my own Blackbird.
I was part expecting to come away wanting the new bike. After all, there had been plenty of hype, and I love large capacity machines with lots of power and which could handle well. The black and green paint scheme was the dog’s danglers too. Just brilliant. R#?
It felt like an illicit affair, with the ‘wife’ safely garaged while I was running around the countryside with a younger model. I felt disloyal and dirty, in an agreeable weekend-in-Brighton-sort-of-way. Yet, at the end of the day, when I flipped up the garage door, I knew the Blackbird would not be going. Here’s why.
The Kawasaki (like many of its forebears) is all about the engine. Or, more accurately, about going and stopping. Fuelling is crisp; acceleration is rapid and gear changes silky smooth. Progress is effortless, sending the rider surging down the road on rising a tide of power. But, just in case this tide carries you into trouble, it slows as fast as it goes; powerful radial brakes hauling the bike down from licence losing speeds as quickly as if you had just chucked the titanic’s anchor out.
The ZZR is also more up to date in terms of instrumentation and adjustability than the Honda; it looks more modern, feels lighter and more flickable. Front forks are adjustable over a number of parameters; there is a gear indicator, voltmeter and trip computer. Styling is aggressive and street cred established. Not hard to see why it’s a popular machine, and in a number of separate areas of engineering, it is an advance on the ‘Bird.
But here’s the rub. The difficult to explain and harder to define part. When I asked myself whether I would trade the bird for the Kwacker, I didn’t have to think long. Not A Chance. No Way. Never.
It could have been the less planted feel of the Kawasaki. The 1400cc machine wobbled like a drunk at New Year’s in side winds, especially on the motorway, and although it would turn in faster than the Bird, never felt so fluid through the bends. Ride comfort, while not bad, was also not in Blackbird territory. For a short Sunday blast it was a fine, but there was no doubt in my mind which machine I’d rather munch more miles on.
It could also have been down to poorer build quality. The Kawasaki’s low grade metal fasteners had already begun to discolour at just 40 miles, while the chain guard looked as though it had last done service on a kid’s push-bike. Paint finish on wheels and engine were also poor and unlikely to last its first winter. Big contrast there to the CBR1100, the paintwork and stainless steel fastenings of which are still shining brightly on my 11 year old machine (and yes, it is ridden through winter).
Even in the areas it’s good at; engine, transmission and brakes; the ZZR is still not that much better than the ‘Bird to make a change worth-while. This is true even in terms of its ultimate claim to fame; speed and acceleration. If pushed, the Kawasaki is certainly faster, especially at the upper end of the dial. Question is; how much time are most riders likely to spend there? At more real world speeds (40-100 mph, say) the two bikes are pretty much comparable. This ‘everyday rideability’ difference is important. Even though the bottom end on the big K has been improved over the pre 2008 models, it still doesn’t feel anymore smooth or powerful than its 11 year old rival. On the road, the outcome of any meeting would be down to the rider.:-0)
But the truth is, the difference between the two bikes is more than any number of carefully collected facts. In the end it comes down to the indefinable joy of the Blackbird experience; something total, something completely absorbing, where all the characteristics of the machine come together in something that is complete and about as perfect as anything made by man can be. The Honda allows a complete merging of rider and machine; with the Kawasaki, its still rider and bike. Together, but separate. A Spitfire pilot once told me that you didn’t feel you’d climbed into the cockpit of a Spitfire and taken off; it was more like strapping its wings onto you back and flying away. Same thing with the big Honda.
So here is the question that’s as perplexing and as mysterious as the genesis of the Blackbird itself; why on earth did Honda stop making it? At a time when average rider age is lengthening, the Bird makes so much sense; an attractive package that combines looks and performance, the power of a sports bike but with the comfort of a tourer to cosset aged bones. And all that at a very reasonable price.
The Blackbird just does it all; power is smooth, finely balanced between low down grunt and top end, reaching levels fast enough for the blue lights brigade to take an unhealthy interest in your licence. Handling is supple, yet planted and comfortable even on spending cut hit British roads. It all comes together is a way that’s civilised yet exciting; powerful and elegant. The Kawasaki was fast but without the finesse. If the Kawa is the Bullet Train, the Blackbird is the Orient Express.
It seems to me that what Honda need to do next is simple. Get half a dozen top designers together with some actual Blackbird owners, lay in some Danish lager:beer: and resurrect the best bike that ever rode the tarmac of this world. With apparently no real completion the market is wide open.k1ap
