Dark Angel
Still kickin' it!
I think I know what it is that makes my views on the VFR1200 so vitriolic.
I’ve finally come to understand that the VFR1200 isn’t actually a bike: it’s a design programme. What’s worse is that it’s a design programme without focus or context and, for me, that makes it even less worthy than the lowest exercise in positive marketing, or “up-selling”, as we now know it.
Amazingly, I’ve arrived at the conclusion that a motorcycle is useless without a rider; and the only time the VFR looks “good” is when there’s nobody actually sitting on it and that’s what gets to me; irritates me; and alienates me: it’s not “a bike”. It’s an aberration.
I’m not talking aesthetically. Bikes are different things to different riders, so I’m talking in terms of sheer practicality and usefulness in full accordance with the old adage: “If it looks good, it is good.” To illustrate my point, the USAF Raptor offers a pertinent reference point. It looks “good”; “mean”; “potent”; and “fit for purpose”;
... especially when compared with its distant and doomed-to-failure rival, the Northrop-McDonnell Douglas YF-23A Black Widow II.
With its negligible range, and, consequently, dubious touring capabilities, the ugly-when-laden VFR1200 falls far, far short of the expectations of those who are expected (in vain, I believe) to purchase it. For me, Honda’s latest attempt to salvage a waning reputation goes beyond grasping at straws. It goes beyond hope. Quite simply; it is the epitome of arrogance and possibly the
swan-song of a once great and ground-breaking company.
While it might be fair to say that Honda may never lose its sense of innovation, it might also be nearer the truth to state that, even as an innovator, Honda may never regain its sense of direction.
You’ve gone the wrong way with this one!
I’ve finally come to understand that the VFR1200 isn’t actually a bike: it’s a design programme. What’s worse is that it’s a design programme without focus or context and, for me, that makes it even less worthy than the lowest exercise in positive marketing, or “up-selling”, as we now know it.
Amazingly, I’ve arrived at the conclusion that a motorcycle is useless without a rider; and the only time the VFR looks “good” is when there’s nobody actually sitting on it and that’s what gets to me; irritates me; and alienates me: it’s not “a bike”. It’s an aberration.
I’m not talking aesthetically. Bikes are different things to different riders, so I’m talking in terms of sheer practicality and usefulness in full accordance with the old adage: “If it looks good, it is good.” To illustrate my point, the USAF Raptor offers a pertinent reference point. It looks “good”; “mean”; “potent”; and “fit for purpose”;
... especially when compared with its distant and doomed-to-failure rival, the Northrop-McDonnell Douglas YF-23A Black Widow II.
With its negligible range, and, consequently, dubious touring capabilities, the ugly-when-laden VFR1200 falls far, far short of the expectations of those who are expected (in vain, I believe) to purchase it. For me, Honda’s latest attempt to salvage a waning reputation goes beyond grasping at straws. It goes beyond hope. Quite simply; it is the epitome of arrogance and possibly the
swan-song of a once great and ground-breaking company.
While it might be fair to say that Honda may never lose its sense of innovation, it might also be nearer the truth to state that, even as an innovator, Honda may never regain its sense of direction.
R.I.P. Honda.
You’ve gone the wrong way with this one!