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Road Test: Cruiser v Sportsbike

It’s 5.19pm. We’re three hours away from home and I’m supposed to be dog sitting at 7.45pm. Gulp. BMW’s S1000RR is an awesome bike but this is going to take some doing. Even after just one afternoon on board, it’s apparent that the S1000RR is special. So long as your definition of motorcycling is to be faster than anyone else, preferably round a racetrack in all kinds of weather.

But even then, the most amazing thing about this bike isn’t the performance, even though that all-new engine makes 10bhp more than any of the Japanese competition and more, even than Suzuki’s GSX1300R Hayabusa. It isn’t the class-leading electronics, the high spec traction control and ABS or the four modes or programmable engine management. No. The most amazing thing about the S1000RR is that it exists at all.

The sportsbike sector is shrinking and the cost to BMW of starting from scratch and entering the market at number one by such a margin shows just how important this bike is. This is the bike BMW built because they were angry with people laughing at their old-men ’pipe and slippers’ motorcycles. And boy, is it good.

The S1000RR feels like a well sorted Yamaha R6 race bike with a tuned 2004 Kawasaki ZX-10R engine fitted. In other words, tall, focused, but somehow more comfy than you’d expect, with an engine that feels almost hollow and that growls. For outright performance from an engine and chassis there’s nothing to touch it right now.

Except that on the road, all that stuff gets muddled because things like traffic and visibility and riding style make so much more difference. Which probably explains why right now, despite my best efforts to lose it, there’s a Harley-Davidson ice cream van right in my mirrors and I can see Bruce smiling through his clear visor. The BMW might feel like the fastest thing around, but it covers the miles in a series of high performance spikes – sharp acceleration, past the queues, a few miles of banzai riding and then hit the back of the next line of cars and lose a minute or two working out the overtake.

On the Harley, life is different. Cruise up to the tin-tops with plenty of time to work out the pass, glide through the traffic and waft your way along the next stretch of road. The time difference between head-down crazy and easy riding is a matter of seconds over each stretch, which Captain Ice Cream makes up as you hit traffic. Shouldn’t work, but it does. And in such comfort too.

The thing is that you have to learn to ride one. Plan your line early, release the brakes in plenty of time and let the suspension settle before going round the turn with just a touch of throttle (which extends the forks a bit and aids clearance). But lazy riding – charging up to a corner, braking late and letting the bike muddle round somehow – will only result in an overworked sphincter and a shower of sparks.

Get it right and the Harley is the most pleasurable of these bikes to ride. By some distance. Think of it like this. If you were the S1000RR’s chief designer, then I’m sure the first line of your brief would have been to make it faster round the Yorkshire Dales than half a ton of American touring bike. But another glance in the mirror sees Bruce right there. Still smirking. And that, more than any detailed road tester type descriptions of these two bikes sums it up for me.

8pm. Home. Early (well, not that late anyhow). On the Harley. We swapped bikes at Doncaster. Me and the Hog have just averaged 75mph for the last 90 miles and only used a half tank of fuel in the process. That’s impressive.

Steve Rose

Cruiser or Bruiser?

What weighs two-and-a-quarter times more than a BMW S1000RR? A Harley-Davidson Electra Glide of course. But it does have a stereo...

Back to the Beemer. Choosing ‘Race’ mode from the S1000RR’s four different power maps on tap – Rain, Sport, Race, Slick – it was a case of pick any gear and relax as the Beemer’s torquey engine pulled effortlessly, bridging the gaps unnaturally fast between the demanding corners littering my route. Whenever I needed it, power was on tap to get past anything. The sophisticated, fully adjustable front and rear Sachs suspension was faultless. Sadly, the heavens opened at Ferrybridge Services, so I switched the bike’s power mode to ‘Rain’ by flicking a button and pulling the clutch in. Despite the fact this still provided 150bhp (down from the usual 193bhp), the restriction was apparent. Staggering power delivery by throttle position, it certainly took a lot of the risk out of riding over wet drain covers and white lines.

Stopping to fill the Beemer’s empty 17.5 litre fuel tank ahead of my final stint through the Dales, realisation hit me I wasn’t aching. I’m not exactly tall at 5ft 9in, but I still expected to hurt a bit. But, no. Nothing. Just like a Harley...

“Try to be open minded, Bruce,” Steve said as he handed me the Harley-Davidson’s perimeter transmitter key. And believe me, I did try.

There were buttons for everything in the cockpit, but all I was interested in was the stereo.

Armed with a stern face, open visor and Radio 2, I set off in pursuit of Steve. I wasn’t cornering, I was rolling. It was a weird sensation, but one I did get used to with every bend mastered.

Despite its huge physical size, the Electra was impressively fast at accelerating, although overtakes did require forward planning: you have to think much harder about things on a Harley. The brakes were terrifyingly wooden and ground clearance was pretty much non-existent.

But back on the A1 I began to get the Harley. It was comfortable, commanding and downright competent. The further I rode, the more I got into it and by the time I’d reached the Markham Moor turn-off, I was somewhat a Harley fan. I’ll stop short of saying I’d go and buy one, but it was certainly an education.

Bruce Wilson

Words: Steve Rose & Bruce Wilson
Pics: Joe Dick