For sport-touring riders who prefer a traditional full-face helmet to a modular or flip-up style, Shoei’s GT-Air has been a top choice since it was first released back in 2012. Since then, the popularity of built-in or integrated Bluetooth communication systems has increased, so for 2019 Shoei has updated the GT-Air II with an optional Sena SRL2 comm system, along with some other tweaks meant to make a great lid even better.
The SRL2 ($299) was designed specifically for the GT-Air II, which means installation is quick and almost foolproof. Insert the battery and controller into their separate compartments, snap the speakers into the pre-cut indentations and stick the microphone on the inside of the chin bar (or use the included boom mic). Ready to ride!
The SRL Bluetooth system, made by Sena, is quick and easy to install in the GT-Air II.
Otherwise, the basic construction of the GT-Air II is unchanged: the shell is made of Shoei’s proprietary Multi-Ply Matrix AIM, which consists of hand-laid interwoven layers of fiberglass, organic fibers and resin, backed by a new EPS liner that now incorporates varying foam densities within each piece for a compact, lightweight design that still protects your noggin.
The removable, washable and sizable Max-Dry interior feels like it may be just a bit more plush than the previous GT-Air, but fit seems about the same as before: a slightly longer oval shape than some of Shoei’s other helmets. Fit around the neck roll is a tad looser to facilitate pulling the GT-Air II on/off but is still snug enough to keep things quiet.
One major change is the switch to the new, patented micro-ratchet chinstrap, as seen on the Neotec II. Unlike other ratcheting chinstraps, Shoei’s closure mechanism is made of 100-percent stainless steel — no plastic — for the utmost in safety. I like the design, which lets the user preset the general fit with an adjustable strap, and fine-tune it with the ratchet. It seems more secure and also more comfortable, similar to a traditional D-ring strap.
Other features include a new drop-down sun shield that’s 5mm longer than before; that doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s enough to cover nearly the entire eyeport and is less intrusive when glancing down at the gauges. A redesigned upper vent shutter is still one of the easiest to use with gloves on, and has two intake positions, both of which flow noticeable amounts of fresh air; five exhaust vents, none of which can be closed, draw it out.
Shoei focused on making the GT-Air II as quiet as possible, with new, thicker face shield beading that seals tightly against wind and water and a compact, aerodynamic shell (my size small weighs in at 3 lbs., 9.8 oz. with SRL2 installed). With the vents closed, the GT-Air II is comfortably quiet, but once the vents are open the noise level goes up considerably. The CNS-1 face shield is the same as that used on the original GT-Air, and comes with a Pinlock EVO fog-resistant insert. The GT-Air II’s new baseplate, however, now allows the shield to be opened just slightly for venting and defogging.
Overall, the GT-Air II is a solid step up from the previous version, with enough updates and upgrades to justify the roughly $50 price increase. It’s available in sizes XS-2XL, spread over three shell sizes, for $599 (solids) or $699 (graphics).
With a taller, wider handlebar than its sportier Vitpilen siblings and reasonably placed footpegs, the Svartpilen puts the rider in position to comfortably tackle both traffic and twisties alike. Photos by Kevin Wing.
Different is good. What would our world be like if the only ice cream flavors were chocolate and vanilla? A life without Denali Mint Moose Tracks or Cherry Garcia would be rather bland indeed. And that’s why bikes like Husqvarna’s Svartpilen 701 excite me: it’s a refreshing antidote to the homogeny we can often detect creeping into our lives.
Husqvarna, founded in Sweden in 1689 as a manufacturer of guns and, since 1903, motorcycles, is probably best known for its off-road models, but after its motorcycle division’s acquisition by KTM in 2013 it decided to make a return to the street bike market — with a decidedly Scandinavian flair. Its current lineup of four street models includes the café racer-styled Vitpilen 401 and 701, the Svartpilen 401 scrambler and the Svartpilen 701.
Powered by the 693cc liquid-cooled single used in KTM’s 690 Duke and 690 Enduro, the Svartpilen 701 might be best described as a Swedish street tracker, complete with vestigial number plate on the right side, and its 18-inch front, 17-inch rear cast wheels are shod with the same Pirelli MT60 RS tires as those found on other street-oriented but off-road-flavored bikes like Ducati’s Scrambler lineup.
The harder you look at it, the more oddities — or art, per the eye of the beholder — you see. The engine is clutched within a tubular steel trellis frame — nothing outlandish there, but everything from there up (and back) is rendered in a futuristic blend of straight lines and curves, a departure from the origami angles of its KTM cousins.
Love it or hate it, you’ve gotta admit the Svartpilen 701 looks like nothing else on the road. Bonus: it’s a hoot to ride too!
The hard, nearly 33-inch-high seat makes ample use of the straight lines, including on its edges: uncomfortable at stops but surprisingly livable with feet on pegs and hands on the wide, slightly swept-back handlebar, at least for an hour or so at a time. No matter, you can’t even pretend that this is a touring bike, and at its intended purpose — carving up city traffic and twisty, technical roads — it succeeds in spades.
Fully adjustable WP suspension, though it boasts 5.9 inches of travel front and rear, is stiff and sporty, even at its softest settings. The throttle-by-wire EFI, pushing high-octane fuel through one big 50mm throttle body, prefers a heavy hand and higher rpm; a couple of times I felt some herky-jerkiness rolling back on out of a corner if I let the engine speed drop too far. There’s a slipper clutch if you like to keep your left hand active, plus an up/down quickshifter if you don’t, and traction control and ABS can be disabled if you so choose, although it’s all or nothing; you can’t disable/enable them separately.
The 4-valve single spins out an entertaining 72.4 horsepower at 8,200 rpm and almost 51 lb-ft of torque at 6,800, making the lithe 368-pound Svartpilen 701 gobs of fun and very easy to toss around, even for someone my size. Speaking of which, you may be looking at these road test photos and wondering if I ate the wrong mushroom in Wonderland, gaining several inches and more than several pounds. Not to worry, that’s Senior Editor Drevenstedt riding as my body double, since I was finishing up a European tour when the photo shoot occurred.
Wrapped in a steel trellis frame, the 693cc liquid-cooled single spools up quickly and the key to the engine’s smoothness is dual counterbalancers.
The Svartpilen and I got to know each other on the twisty roads of the Santa Monica Mountains, where I became smitten with its ruthless efficiency and seemingly effortless handling — as long as we were keeping the speeds below about 75 mph. Not a touring bike.
And as its looks might suggest, the Black Arrow (in Swedish, svart = black, pilen = arrow) isn’t without its quirks. For starters, fit-and-finish is a bit hit-or-miss…for example, both the Brembo front brake lever and Magura hydraulic clutch lever are adjustable, but the neighboring switchgear feels cheap and plasticky. The LED headlight and taillight are svelte and modern, but the single round LCD instrument is poorly lit with small numbers that are hard to read at a glance, and the buttons to change/reset the display are difficult to use. I also found the fuel gauge to be a bit pessimistic, with the range to empty requiring about a mile of riding after the bike was shut off/restarted before displaying again.
LCD instrument contains plenty of useful info, but is difficult to read and sticks out like a designer’s afterthought.
As personality traits go, these are quirks, however, not fatal flaws, and they disappeared pretty quickly when I was barreling up the canyon with a grin plastered across my silly face. For something so lightweight, the Svartpilen conveys a reassuring stability even as it’s flung left-to-right-to-left, the 72-ish horses being enough to keep an experienced rider entertained without feeling shortchanged by things like speed limits. A big 320mm front brake disc with 4-piston radial Brembo caliper and 240mm rear with a single-piston Brembo are more than up to the task if you do feel things getting out of hand.
After the fun is done, parked at the beach with the sun slipping under the pier and into the Pacific, I could sit and admire its rear three-quarter profile until darkness sent me home. Yes, different is good, and in a vanilla world it’s nice to get a bowl of Sea Salt Caramel now and then.
Admiring the sunset over the Pacific after a day of canyon carving on the Svartpilen 701.
Frame: Chromium-molybdenum tubular steel, aluminum swingarm Wheelbase: 56.5 in. Rake/Trail: 25 degrees/4.7 in. Seat Height: 32.9 in. Suspension, Front: 43mm USD fork, fully adj., 5.9-in. travel Rear: Single link-type shock, fully adj., 5.9-in. travel Brakes, Front: Single 320mm floating disc w/ radial 4-piston caliper & ABS Rear: Single 240mm disc w/ 1-piston floating caliper & ABS Wheels, Front: Cast, 3.00 x 18 in. Rear: Cast, 5.00 x 17 in. Tires, Front: 100/80-R18 Rear: 160/60-R17 Wet Weight: 368 lbs. Load Capacity: 403 lbs. GVWR: 771 lbs.
Performance
Fuel Capacity: 3.2 gals., last 0.7 gal. warning light on MPG: 91 AKI min. (low/avg/high) 53.6/58.4/63.2 Estimated Range: 187 miles Indicated RPM at 60 MPH: 4,000
The exhaust setup looks to be slightly different than the 2020 version as well, suggesting there may be more upgrades to the 373cc mill. It’s hard to tell whether styling will be dramatically changed, but if the rear fender remains as it is on the test unit, there’s likely some styling revisions on the horizon as well.
As yet another action packed year draws to a close, what better time than now to reflect on some of the most dramatic MotoGP™ photos of 2019? From last lap battles that resulted in jaw-dropping photo finishes to emotional post-race celebrations, from barely believable saves to joking and fun behind the scenes, this season had it all.
The Cagiva brothers began their quest for 500cc World Championship glory in 1978 with a modified RG500 Suzuki as the base machine. This was followed at the final race of the 1980 season with the C1 – a bike built around a much modified Yamaha TZ500 motor.
Randy Mamola’s Cagiva C589 Racer from 1989
It wasn’t until 1981 that a completely in-house design appeared, the 2C2. It featured a transverse four-cylinder motor (outside cylinders reversed) with four disc-valves mounted above the gearbox and driven by toothed belts.
The C589 produced 150hp with the bike weighing just 122kgCagiva had started with an RG500 powerplant, before using a modified TZ500 and finally their own powerplant in 1981.
1982 saw the troublesome straight four dropped mid season for a new square-four design and resulted the team’s first top ten finish – by Jon Ekerold at Hockenheim.
Originally a straight four Cagiva moved to a V4 in 1982 halfway through the seasonRandy Mamola on the C589
1985 saw the introduction of Cagiva’s first V4 design in the C10. The 90 degree motor used twin crankshafts and was housed in a frame similar to the Yamaha’s Deltabox. The V-angle was reduced to 58 degrees for 1987’s C587 which enabled the whole bike to be more compact. Didier De Radigues scored a fourth place finish in the Brazilian GP.
Mamola would claim the team their first podium in 1988 in Spa on the C588Features included a banana swingarm as seen here on the C589, alongside a stronger frame
The team’s first podium came in 1988 with the C588 at Spa with Randy Mamola. He also had three other top ten places. The bike featured a ‘banana’ swingarm together with a stronger frame, more compact motor and a new ‘one piece’ bodywork design by Massimo Tamburini.
The sealed ‘one-piece’ bodywork continued to the C589 in 1989The horizontal rear shock absorber layout proved a mistake
The C589 seen here continued with Tamburini’s sealed bodywork (foreshadowed by his Ducati Paso design), but the chassis employed a horizontal rear shock absorber layout which proved to be a mistake as it compromised both the steering geometry and weight distribution making it difficult for the riders to get the motor’s higher power output to the ground.
With the rear shock limiting the ability to get power to the ground, results were below expectations, finishing 18thThe shock layout did help Mamola deliver spectacular wheelies throughout the season
As a result Mamola finished the season in 18th and spent most of the season pulling spectacular wheelies to entertain the crowd (his best result was seventh in Yugoslavia).
The Cagiva C589 had a dry weight of 122kg and made 150hp at 12,000rpm.
Randy Mamola’s Cagiva C589 Racer from 1989Randy Mamola’s Cagiva C589 Racer from 1989Randy Mamola’s Cagiva C589 Racer from 1989Randy Mamola’s Cagiva C589 Racer from 1989Randy Mamola’s Cagiva C589 Racer from 1989Randy Mamola’s Cagiva C589 Racer from 1989Randy Mamola’s Cagiva C589 Racer from 1989Randy Mamola’s Cagiva C589 Racer from 1989
The King of Every Kingdom – Around the world on a very small motorcycle
With J. Peter “The Bear” Thoeming
We last left The Bear in Malaysia in Part 4, having retrieved their bikes and continued their journey through south-east Asia, now heading for Thailand. You can find Part 1, Part 2andPart 3here.
Pay attention to the road. That’s a basic rule that I forget in this instalment… A bit of bad luck (and bad riding on my part) rather marred our next day. Just out of Kuantan, I glanced down at the map on my tank box. Charlie braked at exactly that moment for a large pothole and I ran into the back of his bike.
Never look at maps on the move…. By the time we’d picked ourselves up, it was obvious we were in a bit of trouble. Charlie looked as though he’d just been subjected to the amorous attentions of a sandpaper python and my arm and shoulder hurt abominably. Charlie had also lost a lot of skin and had a deep cut over his hip.
The locals could not have been more helpful and transported us to hospital. There they sewed Charlie up and put my arm in a sling, dismissing my claims to a broken shoulder blade. Never self-diagnose; it annoys doctors.
Time for a fresh drink by the side of the road. That parang is sharp!
It surely did the Peace Corps American surgeon who saw me. I dragged myself off to bed feeling like death warmed over and still sure I had a broken shoulder blade. When you’ve broken as many bones as I have, you know the signs.
Charlie commandeered a truck from the nearest bike shop and went out to get our steeds. Everyone was marvelous, from the chap who drove us to the hospital to the people who looked after the bikes. They were fixed cheaply and well while we convalesced. One night, we went to the local fleapit to see Romulus and Remus with—guess who—Steve Reeves.
The film was looking its age, and seemed to be intercut with snippets of at least half a dozen other movies. Kuantan was a pleasant enough town, but it did become a little boring, and we filled in the time with eating and drinking—mostly steamed dumplings and fish, washed down with the local Guinness or Tiger beer.
The locals take Guinness advertising very seriously and drink the stuff for its alleged health-giving properties, and every night they collected in a small crowd that marveled at the healthy pair of Australians with their table full of empty Guinness bottles.
We saw these sardines come off the boat – as fresh as, bro.
Then Charlie had his stitches out, and we were off again. Significant parts of his anatomy were still swathed in bandages and I couldn’t lift my left arm. I had to use my right hand to put the left on the handlebar. We must have looked a fine sight rolling up to the first army checkpoint on the road to Raub.
There had been an attack on a police station and the army obviously thought us likely suspects, because they searched the bikes from stem to stern. But we were carrying neither explosives nor Communist Party membership cards so we were allowed to proceed.
Once out of range of all the hardware being waved around, I started breathing again. I hate guns, and I make a special effort for Armalites pointed by what looked like 10 year olds. Oh. All right, 12 year olds.
In Raub, we were invited to park our bikes in the kitchen of the hotel. Then we went out and had a magnificent Chinese dinner, peering out of the windows at the army and what I took to be militia, who were riding around on Yamaha 70s with fierce-looking shotguns slung over their shoulders.
This is not one of the locals, just one of thousands of temple statues.
Charlie went out to the hospital in the morning to have his wounds dressed, and on the way out of town we were nearly run over by an armoured car.
There was an even more obliging parking space for the bikes the next night, in Kampar: the hotel clerk’s living-room. He had his own bike in there as well. Another visit to the movies rewarded us with The Buccaneer, a 1958 epic featuring Yul Brynner with hair.
When we got back, the disco downstairs was going full blast. They were boogying to Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer and Auld Land Syne. Funny town, Kampar.
The road to Penang was a main highway, with ferocious traffic that ignored our poor little XLs completely. I kept expecting to have to choose between ramming an oncoming and overtaking bus in the grille or ploughing into a gaggle of schoolkids on pushbikes. Tough luck, kiddies…
Once off the ferry in Penang we checked into the New China Hotel, of which I had pleasant memories. I’d stayed there seven years before, on my way back to Australia from Europe by bicycle and public transport. I even got my old room back. Then it was back to the hospital and another X-ray. I wasn’t going to put up with the agony for much longer.
‘No wonder you are in pain,’ the radiologist said in that wonderful Peter Sellers accent. ‘You have a crack as wide as my thumb in your left shoulder blade…’ So I was strapped up and grounded for a week, and Charlie chauffeured me about on the back of his bike.
Heavy transport. That’s a 50cc Stepthrough.
We filled in the time pleasantly with Magnolia ice-cream, coconut drinks and lashings of satay with peanut sauce. As well as getting our Thai visas, Charlie had a new rear wheel spacer made up for his bike. The old one had worn away to a slim circlet of metal. We would have more trouble with that later… should have got more spare ones.
There were some other bikers staying at the hotel, including a German bloke on a Honda 500/4 and a Dutch chap called Frank, who had ridden a Harley WLA with a sidecar to Nepal and stored it there while he and his lady looked at Malaysia. I amused myself scribbling puerile philosophy in my diary. It’s amazing what your mind will turn to when you’re not feeling on top of things.
What is it they say about all good things having to end? I loaded myself up with painkillers, gratis from the hospital, and we took to the road again. I must say, despite the slight misdiagnosis at Kuantan, that the Malaysian hospital system is absolutely first class—and free, except for a nominal registration charge. Just as well, really. Neither of us had travel insurance.
Tyre pressure check at a country service station.
On our way up to the border we passed Butterworth Air Force Base with only a slight pang of homesickness at the Australian flag flying over the gate. It’s an Australian base, the only overseas one our forces have, and I guess it’s designed to protect the Malaysians from … err…. yeah, well, maybe Dr Mahathir.
The road to the border was enjoyable, with a good surface and long curves through hills covered with rubber plantations and carefully concealed gun emplacements. It looked exactly the way it had all those years before when I came through in the opposite direction on my bicycle.
There was comedy at the border. The Customs man wanted our Carnets. We told him about the bloke at the Singapore border and he started tearing his hair out. Of course we needed them! What did those clowns think they were doing?
We left him still distraught before he could think of impounding our bikes, which he could have done, and headed for the Thai border several miles farther along the road.
Thailand
There was more comedy at Sadao as we filled out handfulls of forms that made the Singapore Paper Tiger seem like a tabby. This is the Paper Dragon. One form had eight carbons, all but the first two totally illegible. Each copy required a duty stamp, with the total charge being somewhere around 12 cents.
Then several officials had to see, stamp and sign the forms. Most of these gentlemen were out to lunch, so we joined them. A tip for you—the coffee shop across the road from the Sadao border post gives an excellent exchange rate. Tell ‘em The Bear sent you and go “ooga, booga”. They’ll know.
We managed to get away in the end and ride the few miles to Songkhla, the first large town in Thailand. After finding a cheap Chinese hotel we rode out to the beach for drinks and dinner, which was not the smartest thing either of us have ever done.
The scenery, whether in Malaysia or Thailand, is wonderful
We sat in deckchairs out on the sand and had drinks. Many drinks, I think. We were drinking Mekong, the well-known Thai whisky, which allegedly gets its name from the river because it looks and tastes like it.
It does have a little more alcohol than the river water; at least I think so because the scenery moved in a rhythmic kind of way. We may also have eaten something. Later, very much later, we tore ourselves away from the pretty little ladies who had been serving us—if truth be known, they closed up and left us—and rode back to our hotel.
Very slowly, very carefully, very crookedly and cursing the inadequate lighting on the XLs. Don’t ever drink a lot of Mekong; it’s not particularly strong, but the hangovers are awful.
The banks were closed the next day—it may have been Sunday—but we did manage to change some money at a large hotel and get out of town. Had Yai, which is the railhead for Songkhla, was dusty and confusing and we were glad to get back to the highway, but not for long. We were now open to attack from the huge Isuzu trucks that infest Thai roads, and spent quite a bit of time on the dirt escaping from them.
Never mind the Thai roads: there are other things that are much more enjoyable. Read about them next installment…
We’ve all seen some of the great on board footage from the Isle of Man that is out there on the net, from flying laps and races to ‘Average Joe’ having a Sunday blast. Whatever you have seen whilst deep in your YouTube IOM Rabbit Hole, it’s all immensely impressive in its own right and deserving of praise and admiration.
This particular piece of on board footage with Michael Rutter has been doing the rounds for some time but worth another look as it stands out for me for various reasons. One being the conditions, which are not only hugely challenging due to the low lying sun flickering intrusively through the trees, but also the fact that the motorcycle (Panigale V4 Speciale) appears to be a stock motorcycle. I’m not sure what is more impressive, a stock motorcycle fresh from the showroom floor that can be flogged that fast, or the pilot flogging the motorcycle that fast. I guess a bit of both!
Enjoy.
Feel free to share any of your favourite videos with us here at MCNews.com.au as we start this new Video Of The Week series.
The motorcycles may have a defect in the 10 amp circuit breakers.
What are the hazards?
A defective circuit breaker may cause the engine to unexpectedly stop running, increasing the risk of an accident and/or injury.
What should consumers do?
Indian Motorcycle will notify consumers of the recall by mail. Consumers should contact their preferred Indian Motorcycle dealer to arrange for their motorcycle to be repaired, free of charge. Repairs must be performed only by an authorised Indian Motorcycle dealer.
If you have questions please contact Polaris Customer Service on 03 9394 5610 (Monday to Friday, 9am – 4.30pm, excluding Victorian public holidays).
1985 Honda V65 Magna. Owner: Van Krebs, Fresno, Ohio. Photos by Jason Keller.
The motorcycling world looked upon this machine in absolute amazement — a cruiser putting out more than 100 horsepower. Unheard of! Sure, sportbikes like Honda’s CB1100R were knocking out that many ponies, but those were for riders who liked leaning into corners at insane speeds. But a cruiser with feet-forward pegs and wide handlebars — and a shaft drive no less? This was nutso!
If this bike could be put in a category, it would be Power Cruiser. Harleys were the standard cruisers of the day, and they were lucky to get 55 horses to the rear wheel, using a pushrod V-twin that had been around for the better part of half a century. Whereas this bruiser was a V-4 with two overhead camshafts and four valves per cylinder. And liquid cooling to boot, so no worries about overheating when cruising down Main Street on a crowded Saturday evening. Except for that mildly unaesthetic radiator up front.
1985 Honda V65 Magna.
What was Honda thinking? The company had a whole bunch of bikes in the showrooms that year, 40 different models covering all the bases, from shopping-friendly Passports to huge Gold Wing touring platforms. Even a V-twin cruiser, the 750 Shadow. And a second V-4, the 750 V45 Magna, introduced the year before.
This all began with Soichiro Honda’s wanting to again be celebrated for putting an entirely new machine on the market. The world remembers (although this may be news to some of the younger generation) when he introduced the overhead camshaft, in-line four back in 1969, beginning the evolution of the UJM — Universal Japanese Motorcycle. Now the V-4 would do it again…he hoped.
But the backroom boys wanted to create a jaw-dropper, knock the American public back on its heels, as they used to say. The 750cc V45 was just a starting point for creating a machine the likes of which the motorcycle crowd had never seen. The V65’s majorly oversquare engine, with a 79.5mm bore and 55.3mm stroke, would cheerfully rev to 10 grand, with maximum rear-wheel power of 105 horses coming on at 9,500, redline at 10,000. A lot could go wrong with 16 valves popping up and down 10,000 times a minute, but Honda’s engineers made sure nothing untoward would happen.
1985 Honda V65 Magna.
These horses came from using some appropriate fiddling inside the head, with the four valves having a rather narrow 38-degree included angle. This and the shape of the combustion chamber effectively put the fuel as close to the spark plug as possible, compressed 10.5 times. Bang, bang, bang, bang — and the crankshaft spins.
Four constant-vacuum 36mm carbs, by Keihin, were accessible by lifting the gas tank. These had an easily changeable paper air cleaner. Fuel consumption was less than 40 mpg, but range was no problem as most riders wanted to get off after an hour or so. And at the time the U.S. was blessed (cursed?) with the 55-mph speed limit, so highway riders on the V65 had an excuse for not going very fast. With the V65 ergonomics city traffic was preferable to the interstates.
Power ran via straight-cut gears back to a hydraulically operated clutch. This had a diaphragm spring as an essential part of the device, which the engineers knew would be much abused, with the single diaphragm offering more consistent control than a multi-spring unit.
The gearbox had five speeds plus an overdrive sixth. If the bike could have pulled 10 grand in sixth gear, its top speed would be better than 170 mph. A more practical (!!) top speed was 140 in fifth. If the rider could hang on!
1985 Honda V65 Magna.
A full-cradle frame, with double downtubes, held this unit-construction herd semi-firmly in place, as rubber mounts were used to keep any vibrations hidden away. Which were few as the 90 degrees between the two pairs of cylinders presumed good balance, enhanced by that short 55mm stroke. A shaft final drive went out the left side, so those Levi’s would be nice and clean on cruise night, not having to put up with an oily chain. An air-adjustable 41mm fork suspended the front end, with an anti-dive unit. Rake was a pretty lazy 30.5 degrees with more than four inches of trail, and while this was OK in town, it was best not to get too optimistic out on the twisties. At the back a pair of shock absorbers had all the adjustments: spring preload, rebound and compression damping. The fork had almost six inches of travel, the swingarm a little more than four inches. Axle to axle measurement was just shy of 63 inches.
Cast wheels were 18 inches at the front and 16 at the back, with two discs at the front and a single at the back, all three squeezed by twin-piston calipers.
This power cruiser was designed by the Los Angeles boys for the American market, because the rest of the motorcycling world was not much interested in cruiser styling, preferring standard or sport. Honda hoped that the numbers would blow the Harley riders into the weeds.
Which they did. Quarter-mile times? Don’t even think about them. The 1,338cc Harley was in the 14-second category, and couldn’t break 100 mph. While the 1,098cc V65? In the 10s!! At 125 mph! More numbers? At $4,000 this V65 was at least three grand less expensive than a Harley.
What Honda had failed to realize was that in the cruising world of the 1980s, style was far more important than performance. Power cruisers would be a passing fancy, whereas Honda’s Fury model of today is a V-twin.
One final note: apparently somebody in the 1980s was selling a supercharger kit for the V65 Magna. Boggles the mind!
Mosko Moto Reckless 80L V2.0 Luggage attached to a BMW F 800 GS.
Mosko Moto has some new ideas about soft luggage for motorcyclists. A good example is its modular evolution of the horseshoe-style pannier system — the Reckless 80L V2.0 tested here. Constructed of tough 1680D nylon over a polyethylene core, the R80’s three-part harness carries a holster on each side and a beavertail of two overlapping flaps on top. Aluminum stiffening bars are fitted to stabilize the harness during hard riding. Some assembly is required, assisted by helpful printed and video instructions. The holsters attach to the center chassis with supplied screws, washers and T-nuts that fasten through pre-drilled holes. When my fingers cried “uncle” trying to set the T-nut prongs into the thick harness I reached for a hammer and half-inch socket to drive them home.
The Reckless is a strappy system, starting with five to attach it to the bike — a pair at the lower front pulling it down and forward and three at the rear. Eleven more straps cinch down the beavertail and pouches. Not to worry though, the straps ensure a compact, solid load that stayed put over miles of heavy hits on rocks and ruts during testing. Most fasten with familiar side-release buckles and have keepers to prevent flailing. Mounted to my BMW F 800 GS, the 80-liter Reckless leaves plenty of room on the seat for me, and some on the rack for more gear. At just over 11 pounds, the pack is much lighter than rack-dependent solutions, though heavier than some other rackless options.
Mosko Moto Reckless 80L V2.0 Luggage attached to a BMW F 800 GS.
Each Hypalon-armored holster carries a 25-liter, 800D polyurethane-coated dry bag and mates to a roll-top accessory pocket below; both are slanted to facilitate storing heavy items low and forward. The dry bags feature clear windows and blue interiors to aid in eyeballing the contents, and bottom grab handles for pulling them into the holsters. Lighter gear rides under the beavertail in Mosko’s 22-liter Stinger dry bag, which doubles as a backpack. Packing up the Reckless took some thought and experimentation. I settled on water, sleeping bag and tent in one dry bag, kitchen and food in another, and clothes and sundries in the Stinger. My chair, tools, tire kit and snacks went in the pockets. The R80 package also includes an aluminum heat shield, a rugged tent pole bag and a featherweight 20-liter dry sack for wet items. Under the beavertail are two mesh organizer pockets and a detachable map case.
Mosko’s modular design keeps everything handy, both on the road and in camp. The dry bags can sit in the rain until you unpack them in your tent vestibule; empty, they cover your boots overnight. For motel stops, the harness stays on the bike and the bags come inside. I didn’t find a detail that wasn’t addressed in the design and construction of this robust, waterproof luggage system that sticks to my GS like it was bolted on. The R80 is rugged kit that’s built to go the distance. It sells for $625.
For more information, call (509) 281-3211 or visit moskomoto.com.
