The K-Zone: Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail

I think everyone can agree that riding a Harley is not like riding anything else (with the possible exception of a tractor, if you're being unkind). Even people who don't agree on whether a Harley is a viable motorcycle or not can agree that much. The recent Heritage Softail is slightly closer to most riders' conceptions of how a modern motorcycle should behave than earlier Harleys, but not by that much. If you are familiar with Japanese, British, or even German motorcycles, you will find almost everything about the Softail disturbingly unfamiliar.
      Consider, for example, the ignition key. Well, don't, because there isn't one. Instead, the key unlocks a huge rotary switch, rather like the channel switch you got on 1970s televisions. That switch can be turned into `Run' position to allow the engine to be started. When you've unlocked the switch, you can take out the key and put it away. This seems bizarre, but it's actually a nice touch. Like most people, I have my bike ignition key on a ring with a load of other heavy door keys. When they're in the ignition switch of a motorcycle, they dangle where they can scratch the paintwork or chrome. You wouldn't want to scratch the chrome on a new Harley - oh my goodness, no - and it's good that you don't have to.
      Then there are the indicators. There is one indicator switch on each handlebar, and pressing the switch toggles the indicator between on and off. To be fair, such an arrangement is also used on some BMW bikes, so it's not entirely a Harley affectation. The right-hand indicator is particularly tricky, because if you want to operate it when you're moving, you'll find that your throttle hand will be in the wrong place for your thumb to reach the button. The fuel guage is built into the top of the petrol tank, in a sort of mock filler cap. Because it does look like a filler cap, the gauge has a helpful label - it says `Do not twist, this is not the filler cap'. There's no rev counter, but what would you do with one anyway? To ride the Softail, you sit without your feet on two barge-sized footboards. The left footboard provides access to the heel-and-toe gearshift, the right to a brake pedal the size of brick. The brake pedal is mounted about three inches above the footboard, so to operate it you have to lift your foot and stamp on it.
      It isn't just the details that distinguish this Harley from other bikes - it's different in big ways as well as small ways. The overall ride is very raw - more so even than on a VMax. When you start the engine (which is a 1450cc model on this bike), everything shudders and shakes. And, boy, is it loud. This is partly because of the stage 1 engine modifications, which include a less restrictive exhaust baffle. It's also partly because the engine consists of two huge cylinders, each one of which has the capacity of some four-cylinder engines. The engine is smoother than most earlier Harley designs, because it has a counterbalancing arrangement to smooth out the vibrations, and because the engine is fixed to the frame using rubber mounts. Most Harleys have rigidly-mounted engines, which vibrate enough to dislodge the fillings from your teeth. Where Japanese bikes purr gently at tickover, this one makes a thump-thump noise like a Victorian traction engine. Strangely, it builds revs like a traction engine too. If you throw the throttle open, there is a short delay followed by a spasm of shuddering, then a lurch forward as if you've been kicked from behind by a dinosaur. Cornering at speed consists of a saying a brief prayer, gritting your teeth, and clinging on for dear life while the footboards grind into the tarmac.
      The Softail feels very fast, but I suspect this owes as much to the riding position, noise, and windblast as it does to actual speed. In reality, despite the kick-in-the-pants acceleration, it's actually a fairly slow machine. Obviously it's quicker away from the lights than a car, but so is a 50cc scooter. You might think that with a 1450cc, fuel-injected engine the bike should be almost supersonic, but in fact it doesn't like speeds more than about 70 mph. It will go faster, but it tends to protest. And when a bike like this protests, you certainly know about it. In the end, it's probably good that the Softail isn't blazingly fast, as its brakes couldn't cope with the momentum if it were.

On the surface, the Softail has everything wrong with it. It's far too heavy, uses a 1450cc engine to produce the same power (about 65bhp) as a 600cc commuter, it costs an absolute fortune, and needs servicing every 2,500 miles - more than twice as often as most Japanese bikes. It shudders like a sumo wrestler having a cold shower, and the brakes are just appalling. It's almost as if the designers have carefully considered every feature that a modern motorcycle requires -- and then said `sod it'.

You may be thinking after all this that I'm going to say that the Harley is a bad bike. But you'd be wrong: I absolutely love it, I just can't figure out why. Partly it's the looks. With the minor exception of the studded leather panniers - which are so camp they should have tentpegs - it's an incredible looking bike. Like all the best art, it reveals different details at different levels. From a distance, you get to see the curves and the shiny chrome; as you get closer you can see the engraved decals, chrome trimmings and detailing. Even the tank badge is a small work of art. Then there is the appeal of originality - although there are Harley-style bikes from other manufacturers, and many are technically superior, they are clearly derivative (or, at least, appear to be so).
      The fact that the Harley is not overwhelmingly fast also has its own appeal but, again, it isn't entirely clear why. Lots of bikes aren't as fast as their riders would like them to be, so why is this an advantage on a Harley and a problem on any other bike? The Harley rider readily accepts the performance limitations of his machine. As the company's advertising guff says: why worry if someone overtakes you, when you'll catch him up at the next traffic lights? Why don't the riders of 125cc scooters take this attitude? I don't know, but they don't, and Harley riders do, and that's that.
      Then there is the sense of tradition. In a world where the pace of change is such a source of stress, isn't it nice to know that your motorcycle, at least, is the same as last year's? When a company like Honda introduces about six new engine designs into the marketplace every year, it is reassuring that Harley-Davidson have only changed their fundamental engine plan twice in the last decade. What's more, their motorcycles look the same as they did in the 1950s. There's not much plastic on a Harley.
      The Harley also has an amazing road presence. When it comes roaring up being a queue of cars, they almost drive over each other to get out of the way. The drivers that aren't in a panic are gawping in amazement. This is the same effect you get on a VMax - but in spades. The size and noise of this bike make it highly visible, which has got to be good for safety (the rider's, if not everyone else's).

But the most impressive feature of the Harley, and one that has to command at least a grudging respect, is the `sod it' factor described above. Harley Davidson as a company is simply not influenced by anyone else. The company just plods along doing the same thing as it's always done, regardless of whatever anyone else thinks. Its products are expensive, quirky, and impractical, yet they command a huge following. Harleys have never been in higher demand in the UK, so much so that second hand prices are scarely lower than new. What other road vehicle could you buy new, then sell three years later for 90% of the new price? This ridiculously low depreciation means that the overall cost of owning a Harley - taken over a three-year period - may actually be lower than that of a Japanese sports bike. Of course, if you're the kind of person that takes this kind of consideration into account, you're probably far too sensible to buy a Harley in the first place.
      If you've never ridden a big Harley, you should try it; you might even like it.
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