BMW Introduces First Riderless Motorcycle

Since 1923, BMW has been a leading innovator in motorcycle technology. Their advances include ABS, ride-by-wire, and multi-mode rider control, as well as a variety of weird suspension contraptions. In the 1930s and 40s, BMW was a world leader in the technology of mounting .50-cal. machine guns to sidecars.

 

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The BMW K1600FL

Not resting on their laurels, BMW sees their leadership role as just taking off. Now they hope to usher in a whole new world of motorcycling with the first commercial riderless motorcycle, the K1600FL. The FL stands for “Fahrerlos” (German for “Riderless”), and this model promises unprecedented performance, reliability, safety, and politeness on the road. BMW’s chief of automation engineering Jürgen Narrenschiff explains the concept behind this machine:

 

“This begins with an understanding of the rider and machine as one system working together. It is the interaction of rider and machine that creates the overall riding and performance experience. Once we see this as one whole, we can ask the question, what is the weakest part in this system? Clearly, it is the human part. So, now we must simply eliminate the weakest part.”

 

BMW’s research showed that the human part is not only responsible for a majority of accidents, but also for poor performance.

 

“The human part’s on-board computer is a very old model, and it functions very poorly when trying to calculate things like the correct entry speed for a curve or how fast an oncoming car is moving. It reacts too slow to emergencies, then overreacts, often making the situation worse. It can also completely shut down when it encounters something as simple as a scantily-clad attractive pedestrian. Let’s face it, the human part’s computer was not properly design for motorcycle performance.”

 

The K1600FL’s computer, by contrast, can track and predict the motion of every object within its view, can factor in tire wear and inflation, road surface and banking, humidity, traffic densitiy, grade and incline, and sunspot activity when entering turns. This bike will hit the perfect apex every time. Eliminating the human part also reduces the weight of the machine by up to 250lbs. of “useless blubber,” according to Narrenschiff.

 

The riderless machine will also be an advantage to busy motorcycle owners who find they just don’t have as much time as they would like to take the bike out on the open road. The K1600FL can be programmed to go on scenic mountain rides autonomously while the owner is at work, at home, or even asleep. This means more pure road time with less effort for the owner. The machine will even take selfies and post updates to the owner’s social media sites. With the voicelink app, an owner who is stressed out at work can touch one button and say, “Motorcycle, take a run down to the lake,” and the motorcycle will take care of the rest.

 

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The K1600FL enjoys a ride down the coast

“We have finally identified what is holding back the future of optimal motorcycle performance, and we have removed it from the system. This is a revolution for motorcycling.”

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What is “Neo-Retro”?

The first sentence of every description of the Yamaha XSR 900 must include the phrase “neo-retro,” and this one is no exception. It seems to be a somehow apt descriptor, but I don’t think any of us really know exactly what we mean when we say, write, or read it. Is it really a word? It is two prefixes (prefices?) linked together without a root. It is certainly an oxymoron, although “neo-paleo” would be a more perfect diametric pairing. Personally, I would be very excited to see a neo-paleo bike. Something made of meat.

 

I suppose we must conceded that “neo-retro” is a word, inasmuch as people are using it and somehow investing it with some meaning. Neologisms like this often take some time to find their proper semantic place, and this one seems to be at that crisis point where it either hones itself to something useful or just become another useless filler word. Time to drill into that word and extract the real meaning so that we all stop throwing it around so promiscuously.

 

First, let’s make some important exlusions to be clear what “neo-retro” is not. Some would say that “neo-retro” means a technically and mechanically modern machine that wears styling taken from the past, like the new Bonnevilles or Moto-Guzzis. But no, that is simply “retro.” “Neo-retro” must reinterpret. It is Post-Modernist, not Classicist.

 

It is also not the uninterrupted making of the same thing for decades. No-one refers to Harleys as “neo-retro” or even “retro.” They are simply Harleys. Indian Chiefs might be “retro,” because there is a discontinuity between the current machine and the precedent. You have to leave home in order to enjoy homesickness. You can’t be nostalgic for something that’s just always been there and never left. Oddly, people often refer to Royal Enfield as “retro,” which is wrong due to this Continuity Exemption. I think people call Royal Enfields “retro” because they themselves have re-discovered (or just discovered) them, and therefore what’s old is new to them, whereas in fact what’s old is simply old. (The Contintal GT would be an exception to the Exemption, and thus could rightly be called “retro.”)

 

Got it?

 

OK, let’s look at the latest exemplar of “neo-retro”: the Yamaha XSR 900:

2016-01-10 xsr900_1

 

What about this design is retro? What clues tie this bike to, say, the 1970s? Apart from the round headlamp and the optional bumblebee livery, not a damned thing. We could go through the bike piece by piece by piece and not find anything that ties this bike to the past. Look at it: the tank? The frame? The engine? Even the fenders? Anything? OK, maybe the tank badge. The name, certainly, is a reference to the venerated XS 650, a prince among UJMs, but that’s it.

2016-01-10 xsr900_2

 

Every single thing about this design is modern. It doesn’t even look like what someone in the 1970s would imagine a futuristic bike would look like – they would probably assume a bike of the future would be some kind of Craig Vetter Streamliner deal.

 

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Perhaps the only truly retro thing about this image is the clothing of the rider.

 

Let’s take another example: the BMW R Nine T:

2016-01-10 R9T

 

Of course this bike has the “classic” BMW Boxer engine, but that is not retro – that’s merely a staple powerplant that is still in BMW’s regular lineup. (Would you call the R1200RT “retro”?) Again, there is a round headlamp, but surely that can’t be it? Everything on this bike is thoroughly up to date, both technically and aesthetically. The trellis frame, the brakes, wheels, seat, components, suspension, lines, curves, forms – it’s all neo, and where’s the retro?

 

Contrast this with the new new Bonnevilles, which carefully and knowingly extract details and proportions from old bikes to create their new composition. There are little Easter eggs for connoisseurs. They are modern, but they make aesthetic allusions with the precision of a McKim, Mead, and White, and no-one would question that the genre of these bikes is “retro.”

 

Yet we are compelled to describe the XSR 900 and the R nine T (and let’s throw in the Honda CB1100) as “neo-retro.” We almost can’t help ourselves. Why?

 

The truth is, when we look for historiated styling cues, we are looking at the wrong thing. What’s retro about these bikes is not the design details or specific allusions to past models. In fact, it’s not styling at all: it’s design at a deeper level.

 

The “retro” in these bikes is an attitude of simplicity. Unadorned, bullshit-free. Unassuming, but direct and tough. It’s a recognition that many of the products (not just bikes) that we use every day have become encrusted with features, complications, and upgrades that stand between us and the pure enjoyment of the object. It is the opposite of the plastic engine cover under the hood of your Audi. It’s the same ethos as the naked bikes taken in a slightly different direction.

 

Our nostalgia for older bikes is closely tied to how much fun we had on them. It seemed that the bikes had character. That character was rooted in the direct experience with the machine, unintermediated by other amenities. Now we are being offered bikes that present that kind of character without the flip side of those simpler bikes – unreliability. We are seeing technology in the service of a better experience, rather than tech for its own sake.

 

It’s also a reminder that a motorcycle does not have to be either a sportbike or a cruiser. It can just be a bike. And you don’t have to choose between being a pirate or a squid. You can just be a biker.

 

There was no better time, when things were simpler, people were more honest, and beer was free. In that sense, nostalgia is naïve. But there were great ideas and moments of delight in our collective youth that are worth remembering. If “neo-retro” brings us fun, honest bikes that look good and ride great, we are all for it.

The New New Bonnevilles: A Closer Look

592C9BF9BC5047DDA8B3BCB9C228C762 The Bonneville is finally going to earn its keep. For more than a decade, it has gotten by as the backbone of the Triumph brand solely on looks and romance. Those are powerful motivators for sentimental folk like bikers, but let’s be honest, the name “Bonneville” implies speed (preposterous Pontiacs aside), and it’s a little silly to have a “214” special edition of a bike than can barely break half that speed downhill.

Bonneville and its variants have been beloved because we look good and feel good on them. They have been fun, accessible, affordable, and nostalgic without being corny or phony. (Nostalgia is safe when used as prescribed, but overuse can lead to misguided nonsense like endorsements by Zombie Steve McQueen.) The Bonneville line-up has always had a winning smile that it’s hard to say no to. Triumph have taken that strategy as far as it could go, and now they have come out with guns drawn. We’re in a whole different class now. She just walked out on the dance floor, and all we can say is, “My, how you’ve grown!”

I’m going to say what we were all thinking: thank god they didn’t fuck it up. Making major changes to something so simple and beloved is very dicey. This could have gone wrong in so many ways. But have you ever heard so much gushing over a bike nobody has even ridden yet? It’s even buzzing in non-moto circles. Did you, like me, get texts from your non-biker friends & relations asking about this?

Naturally, all the coverage is reciting the numbers & specs on these bikes, and those numbers are critical to what this line-up is about, but you can see them in any of the links above. (Although we still don’t have two key numbers: peak horsepower and MSRP.) The numbers are what will make this bike a serious competitor for the BMW RnineT, Ducati Scrambler and some Monsters, H-D Sportster 1200, Yamaha XJR 1300, and many other seriously-sporty-but-not-superbike retro-nakeds (1200cc seems to be a direct shot at H-D and Ducati. Can you imagine swiping at both of those in one punch?) We wouldn’t be adding much to the conversation repeat the specs yet again here, so instead, per our wont, we will take a close critical look at some aesthetic details and how they relate to the whole.

Let us begin by confessing: This is a gorgeous piece of machinery:

2E74F3A854CF473D9AEFD5E5D2B3D2EFWhen it’s good, British motor design is outstanding.

This is a design that is unified around speed, yes, but also elegance. The composition hangs together off the top frame line, which is tilted forward in a kinetic gesture. The proportions are compact and the curves taut. It is mature but virile. Many bikes have great design ideas in them, but it is rare that they all support a single parti so well together. The XJR1300 seems to have parts of seven different cool bikes in it. The Harley Fat Boy, on the other hand, love it or hate it, is most emphatically and unapologetically what it is.

One smart move Triumph made is making the Thruxton the king of the line-up instead of the T120. The Thruxton was always the sportier-but-its-still-not-really-sporty step-sister. It was basically the Bonnie with lower handlebars, and it looked faster than it was. Owners were practically obliged to find ways to get more zaft out of it, and of course it was also limited by its suspension. No more! It is out of the shadow of its dowdy sisters.

An important visual signal of this distinction is that the Thruxton has a different tank. The squarer, flatter more-70s, less-50s tank is distinctive, and its lower, longer proportion just make the whole machine that much leaner and meaner. They didn’t take it too far, though: those 70s tanks were square enough to lose all character. Here Triumph’s stylists used that precedent as an inspiration, not a template, and that is always the correct way to treat your historical antecedents.

Let us continue the aesthetic tour of this bike’s intimates at the tires. (Sorry – tyres.) It has sticky, sporty Pirellis, but not just any Pirellis. Did you notice that these are Pirelli Diablo Rosso Corsa tyres? These were developed for the venerated and all-too-short-lived Ducati SportClassics, which were an epitome of the best that neo-retro styling can be. The new Bonnies have been compared to the SportClassics, and this choice of tyre could not be a more direct and specific allusion. It’s like finding the helmet of the last guy who died climbing this mountain and wearing it while you announce your own summit attempt. Subtle, but ballsy, Triumph.

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I would like now to contemplate the taillight, because that is indeed the kind of guy I am. The taillight on the Bonneville had always been this ugly, vexing blot on an otherwise handsome design. Like if David Niven wore a tacky plastic boutonniere on the lapel of his tuxedo. The alien-head orb taillight was an inexplicable hangover from the Legend/Thunderbird/Adventurer bikes of the 90s. No-one knows why they carried over this one design element onto an otherwise entirely new machine. It was the first thing most Bonneville owners changed, usually to a Lucas-copy. The new bikes have finally done the right thing: an updated interpretation (not copy!) of the Lucas aesthetic. Nice curve to the top, angled sides. A smart reference if you get the joke, but still sharp if you don’t. Is the LED ring light another allusion to the BSA-style bullet taillight? I choose to believe it is.

Thruxton_R_Detail_Rear_Light_CROP

There are many other design moments to enjoy, such as the reference to the ignition points cover on the starboard engine casing, the very tidy branding graphics on the entire line-up, the tight bar-end mirrors, and of course all the quality components (e.g. brakes, forks, shocks) that signal to any connoisseur what class of bike this is. They have also placed a small brand logo in the middle of the headlamp, which everyone seems to be doing all of a sudden. Not sure what’s driving that.

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It is also commendable that Triumph are keeping and supporting (and will be shamelessly capitalizing on) one of the Bonneville class’ best features: its customizability. We will be flooded with gadgets, and surely aftermarket manufacturers will be quick to add their own.

C3BB5136001A439AB17D1DEBE1E4504BMonza, baby.

This is of course no all-out street fighter. It’s not a best, fastest, most-torque, most-horsepower anything. What it is is a very sharp, sophisticated-looking, covetable motorbike with a big enough performance envelope for any but the highest-end riders to get everything they want out of it. It is, simply, what we all always thought these bikes should be.

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Dissecting the Can-Am Spyder F3

The Power Cruiser segment is small, but it has a distinct visual language: tough, guts-out, feet-and-fists-forward riding position, a limited color palette, macho. Think Diavel, V-Rod, VMAX, the current Honda Valkyrie. Whether you think power cruisers are hideous, overstuffed pierogis or killer, no-frou awesome-balls in an increasingly pussified world, they are a strong identity statement that is powerfully expressed through unmistakable styling.

Can-Am/BRP is now knocking on the door of the P-Cruiser club asking to be let in. Their entry card is the 2015 F3, which cops all the best, or worst, or certainly most obvious styling cues from the other P-Cruisers out there. Before we deconstruct the styling, however, we should mention that the name F3 is really baffling. Why they would pick the same name as the petite, uberexotic, dead sexy, stiletto-heeled MV Agusta F3 cannot be explained. It can’t possibly be an intentional allusion; the only possible reason is a lack of due diligence coupled with general ignorance.

_g207970Pictured: Not a trike.

The overall impression of the Spyder F3 is that it is massive – or, rather, massy – not just big, but dense and heavy. Like space-time-warping dense. All the P-Cruisers have a real visual weight, but it usually comes with a compactness and a sense of engineered tightness: the density comes from cramming a Mack-truck engine into a motorcycle frame, and gives an impression of caged power. Not so much with the F3. Rather than potential energy, it conveys an odd scale and proportion. Compare the knee cut-outs in this photo with the scale of an actual human’s knee:

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P-Cruisers are required to look a little mean, of course, and the F3 takes that quite literally with its squinting, belligerent headlights and downward-sloping front end. The prowling, predatory look dominates the forward half of the machine.

There are some more literal ‘borrowings’ from more established P-Cruiser bikes. The daddy of all P-Cruisers, the Genghis Khan of this race, is the Yamaha (sorry, “Star”) VMAX. This bike, which has been around since 1985, set the standard for the category and still has a loyal cult following. It has always been as ugly and as endearing as an English bulldog, and it styling has changed little in 30 years. The most distinctive visual elements are the big air scoops right up on the bike’s shoulders. These are a very brash, hot-roddish design move, which make the VMAX instantly recognizeable. The F3 has copied this move (again, quite literally) with big shoulder scoops that turn the VMAX’s tough, “Don’t give a damn” gesture into “Ooh, me too! Me too!”

Perhaps more shameless are the exposed frame elements painted red, a gesture lifted straight from Ducati. Ducati can do this because their frames are works of art (I would seriously pay to see an exhibit of just Ducati frames). However, there is nothing interesting to see in the F3 frame, and painting it red just highlights the visual poverty of the chassis. The whole tail end, in fact, looks traced straight from the Diavel design book, which again just makes the F3 suffer by the comparison.

HM1_stripped

The front end is a slightly less sporty version of a 1950s-era Ford 8N tractor, perhaps also influenced by dreams of a Toyota Tundra.

 ford 8nAre you my mother?

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In short, this styling effort is misguided. Any attempt to clothe something in the trappings of what it is not is dicey. It takes a deft hand and maybe a sense of irony to pull it off, neither of which are in evidence in the F3. (Or maybe it’s deeply ironic, and we just don’t get it.)

There is a great, fun, well-engineered machine under all those truck body parts, but trying to be something you’re not comes off a little ridiculous. This goes to the fundamental conceptual flaw of these machines: trying to insist that they are motorcycles. They are, and should be, something else.

Check out this Spyder ad. At around the 10-second mark, there is this approving not from a “real” biker (at a roadhouse, no less) upon seeing the weekenders roll up in their Spyders. Instead of just playing the Can-Am for the fun luxury excursion toy that it is, it becomes a joke to think that it is somehow equivalent to a bored-out panhead chopper.

The worst outcome of the incorrect assumption that this machine is a motorcycle is in putting a motorcycle-style saddle on the Spyders. There is no damned reason to straddle a machine that doesn’t lean, except to pretend it’s a motorcycle. You sit astride a bike precisely so that you can lean with it. The centrifugal force of a turn and the force of gravity resolve into a resultant force vector that pushes straight down through your butt into the seat and to the wheels. It’s perfect. The forces all work together harmoniously, creating that awesome feeling of oneness with the machine. You move your body, the machine moves, it all works.

If the machine doesn’t lean and you’re straddling it, the centrifugal force tries to push you off. Instead of working with you, you have to compensate and fight the forces of nature (this is true to a much lesser degree in ATVs because the speeds are less and there is a lot more going on dynamically off-road). In a hard turn, you have to leverage off the handlebars, which you are trying to use to steer the machine at the same time. It’s unnatural, and it’s not what the machine wants. It’s a triumph of wishful thinking over best design.

 

What you really want is something like are something like Formula 1 seats set as low as possible. What we really crave is a kicking three-wheeler really designed – aesthetically as well as technically – around the intrinsic experience such a machine could offer. If only somebody would come up with something like that…

On The Indian Chief Dark Horse

Dark Horse-2

It’s time to stop with the matte black.

Matte black was once the hardest, baddest, nihilistest finish you could put on a bike. It wasn’t even a finish, really. It was the antifinish. It was riding around in primer, and a bike in primer is basically naked, walking around not giving one swingin’ god-damn what anybody thinks.

Matte black said, fuck chrome. Fuck your fancy, expensive custom flame paint job or your “factory custom” glitter-pony candy wrapper. All’s I want to do is ride. I refuse to even reflect light.

It’s the color of a deep bruise. An old tattoo. A stealth bomber. Joan Jett. Rot. The color that chooses not to. I doesn’t even bother to sneer.

Harley brought matte black into the mainstream in 2007 with the Nightster, which brought some much-needed and long-absent cool back the the H-D brand. The Nightster was pretty effin tough-looking for a mass-production bike, and it embraced the Sportster’s true potential as lean, gnarly, high-torque-to-weight strike fighter, instead of forcing it to be a smaller version of the fat, chrome-heavy cruisers.

The Nightster was a hit, and Harley developed a whole line of “Dark Customs” (which sounds like a cheesy soft-core goth porn series), which included some fine, handsome machines (like the Street Bob) and some obvious jokes that somehow made it into production (like the Cross Bones). The Harley motto, translated from the Latin, reads roughly, “We had this one great idea; now we’re going to beat it to death until you can’t stand it,” and they certainly lived up to those lofty words. They put matte (sorry – “denim”) finishes on any surface that would take paint. (Somehow I can’t get my head around the point of matte orange.)

Of course, every other manufacturer with a cruiser in their line-up had to mimic the alpha ape. Matte black is everywhere, often on bikes speciously branded as “bobbers.” Hilariously, these bikes are sometimes “special editions” with special price tags. The idea of paying a premium for matte black has its own special absurdity: turning the antisocial into a social status symbol. Paying extra for that pissed-off loaner look. How much would they charge for some rust and a few dents? Of course, this is nothing new: designer jeans with holes in the knees have been around for thirty years. People probably pay like fifty bucks for those! I don’t know what designer jeans cost, but Soul Custom will sell you a brand-new ratty old t-shirt for $25.

But I digress.

Now Indian has unveiled the Chief Dark Horse, the sadly predictable matte black version of the Chief. (Let’s ignore the urge to point out that the name “Chief Dark Horse” is getting uncomfortably close to “Kemosabe” territory.)

The Indian Chief is no hard-core garage custom. It is gorgeous American luxury. It looks like Marilyn lying on her side. It has hips. It has the style and grace we once associated with American automobiles like Packard, Cadillac, and, dare I say, Duesenberg.

1930-Duesenberg-J2Not matte black.

To paint the Indian Chief matte black is to throw a drink in its face. It just looks dour and full of self-pity. You see, what makes the Chief work as a design are its three-dimensional complex curves. You cannot appreciate this design by looking at a profile photo. When you walk around it, you appreciate the whole shape, and it makes you want to touch it. It is highly sculptural. The matte black paint ruins all that. It flattens your whole perception of the bike. The paint job conflicts with and undermines the overall design. That’s why the Dark Horse looks so anonymous. It looks like any of a hundred nameless cruisers and loses that distinctive Indian character.

 

Dark Horse-5Pictured: Some Cruiser

 

On the plus side, though, the Dark Horse is a full $2,000 cheaper than the Chief Classic. That’s a big discount, and it’s plenty of money to get whatever paint job you wanted.

With this paint option, Indian is opting for what is trending at this moment – or, more accurately, what was trending two or three years ago – over good design. Industrial and product design always has a tension between what is best and what is popular, and it’s hard to blame them for doing something so simple that might really sell, but it’s also hard to look at a matte black Indian Chief.

On the Ford GT

The mid-1960s were a high-water-mark in performance automotive design and styling. Many of the design icons of that era are still breathlessly coveted by gearheads and connoisseurs. It was a time of high art in machinery. Consider this brief honor roll:

 

1961: The Jaguar XKE. Long, low, and very modern. Sort of the beginning of the look of a modern sports-car, at a time when many contemporaries still had flaring fenders right out of the 1930s.

1962: The AC Cobra. A bulging little monster. Tough and sleek.

1962-1964: The Ferrari 250 GTO. The car that marked the maturation of Ferrari as a world sport leader at the height of its power.

1964: The Corvette Stingray. Just super cool. A design that still turns boys’ heads fifty years later.

1964-1968: The Ferrari 275 in all its variants. Perhaps the most gracefully shaped pieces of metal of all time. They are “Italian” in the sense that an Amati violin or Ferragamo loafer is Italian.

1965: The Ford Mustang and the Pontiac GTO. The beginning of the American Muscle Car. Cold War hubris in steel.

1965: The Aston-Martin DB6. British grit and elegance that just gets classier year by year.

 

In this Valhalla of velocity, the Ford GT40 beat them all. Literally. In 1966, GT40s beat Ferrari to take first, second, and third place at LeMans. A GT40 won again in 1967. And again in ’68. And ’69. It was the first and perhaps the only true American supercar.

frdconcepts 02detroit1, 2, 3…

 

The GT40 wasn’t just a race winner. It was beautiful and unique. It just didn’t look like anything else. The design had this broad, distinct American accent. It wasn’t lithe like a Ferrari; it was more of a bruiser. It had a brutal elegance, like a Chicago pugilist. It had a manner that would make the Lords drop the monocles out of their regal eyes. It was more Humphrey Bogart than Charles Boyer. It had the tough, confident, no-bullshit brush-strokes of an Ashcan School painter.

 

Bottom line: if there’s one American car to get romantic about, it’s probably the GT40.

 

In the past two decades, we’ve seen design revivals of pretty much every American (and some European) car model that’s come and gone. It’s some combination of nostalgia, Post-Modernism, and a lack of a new design language. Some of these have been great (Dodge Challenger), some not so much (Ford Thunderbird). The GT40 didn’t seem like a prime candidate for revival, since it wasn’t a mass production car, and it’s not as widely known outside of motor enthusiasts. It’s not the thing you see on posters in diners. It’s also not something you’re going to see an original at a Saturday cruise-in.

 

fordgt northamericaBut they did it: in 2005 – perhaps at the height of the retro wave – Ford released the GT, a very literal design revival of the venerated GT40. Some argued this design was too literal, hewing too closely to the 1966 car, but the 2005 GT was inarguably still beautiful and tough.

fordgt northamerica frdasia tokyo03 03tokyoIt was just a more refined, slightly more modern version. Unlike some of the other reanimated models, the GT kept all the essential sex appeal of the original. It was above all covetable.

 

At the North American International Automobile Show this week, Ford debuted the next generation: the 2016 GT. It was unquestionably the star of the show, and for good reason: it is spectacular.

2016 gt2017_Ford_GT_front by Latvian98

It is more of a design departure than the previous iteration. The most distinctive GT40ism is the broad, low front end and identifiable headlight and windshield shape. The rest of the machine, though, goes in more of a superhero direction. It feels more adolescent, like perhaps it should fold into a fighting robot. This makes that classic front end look out of place, like grafting a great Roman aquiline nose onto a dysmorphic runway model. This car will be amazing, but the styling has gone a little too much tequila and not enough fine whisky.

2017_Ford_GT_rear2017_Ford_GT_Rear by Latvian98

The original GT40 and the 2005 GT were brawny, but they didn’t rip their shirts off. They had a very grown-up virility. Fine things take time to learn to appreciate, but they are worth it. That is why we should be careful about letting teen aesthetics be the arbiter of taste. The best designs provide deep, lasting pleasure, not just eye-pop.

 

I don’t mean to pick nits off of what is definitely an amazing American automobile. It is lovely to see a car with a blue oval on it that will go toe-to-toe with any machine in the world. I am afraid, though, that all our attention will be on the funky, flashy bits, rather than its enduring dynastic elegance.

 

 

2015 Harley Line-Up: Can’t Even

I’m not asking for miracles. I don’t expect to be amazed with every new model year. I don’t expect manufacturers to abandon their bread and butter. I just want something worth getting out of bed for – something even a little exciting. Something that doesn’t obtusely confirm the worst stereotypes about American bikes, American bikers, and, well, just Americans in general.

 

While Indian is chewing up highways and raking in drooling, slobbering, elegiac reviews, H-D’s 2015 line-up is a depressingly regressive parade of ponderous pachyderms. The biggest (in every sense) addition is the Freewheeler Trike, whose very name is so blandly optimistic it competes with the Bounder RV and that other three-wheeled transport, the Rascal, for unctuous pandering. I am genuinely curious to know how one trike wasn’t enough in their lineup. This model appears to be a little (can we say) ‘sportier’ than the Tri Glide Ultra, and it has a less staggering price – it actually costs less than a BMW 2-series! Also, to be fair, the Freewheeler actually looks like it was designed as a trike, as opposed to an unholy hybrid. Those fenders are really nicely styled… what is happening to me?! Look away!

 15-hd-freewheeler-1-zoom

Can’t unsee.

 

What’s sad here is the overt attempt to lean on the geriatric end of the demographic, to squeeze a few more riding years out of granddad even if he can’t swing his leg over a bike any more. Is this really safe? How long can we do this before we have to come out with a Weekend at Bernie’s CVO Ultra Special? Actually, maybe that’s not too far off…

 

The problem with granddad’s trike is that the kids won’t covet it. There is nothing better in this world than a motorcycle that is handed down from one generation to the next, but I think this hand-me-down would be greeted with less, “Gee, thanks!” and more, “Um, thanks.”

 

Apart from this particular piece of morbid machinery, the Road Glide is back for 2015, which means apparently it was gone. It is very important to remember that the Road Glide is totally different from the Street Glide, which is also totally different from the Electra Glide. The Road King, of course, is the other one. (If you’re ever unsure of which one is the Road King, it’s the one that actually looks rather bad-ass.)

 

In addition, there are several “Ultras,” “Lows,” “Specials,” and a couple of “Limiteds.” This is where those terrible American stereotypes I mentioned come into play. It’s not just excess, it’s pointless excess. It’s paying more money for something that’s just heavier. It’s like portion size is all that matters. “Why do we always come here, honey? The food is awful!” “But just LOOK at the portion sizes!” Every time I see one of these overboiled bikes, I just want to strip all that crap off, because the truth is there is a beautiful machine under all that pudding. They could use a serious Jillian Michaels treatment, and none of this “you’re-beautiful-just-the-way-you-are” bullshit. Call in Michelle Obama! No more french fries for these bikes.

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Urp.

 

Special or limited editions typically feature a special paint job. In fact, this, along with some chrome bling, is often the main special feature. Unfortunately, the paint job is invariably some 90s-looking tribal or stylized flame schtick that is at once gaudy and aesthetically timid. If you’re going to do something tacky, do something awesome tacky – 60s psychedelics, or crazy 70s airbrushing. Even the mega-metal-flake “Hard Candy” paint, which is unquestionably very tacky, has some serious awesome. Either be classy or go crazy. Don’t just be a frat boy tattoo.

hardcandy4-002-500x446

Awesomely tacky.  Tackily awesome.

 

Maybe after the trim, water-cooled Street 500/750 last year and the uber-sexy Livewire teaser earlier this year, our expectations were pegged too high, but what cruel bathos to go from that to the Freewheeler Shuttlebus! We demand a lot from a brand that we care about as much as Harley – and don’t kid yourself, every biker cares about Harley, love it or hate it. We fixate on the sparks of innovation, obsessed with the hope that soon there will be a fire again. We hope that changing market demographics, a leaner economy, a global marketplace, and of course the rivalry with Indian will force H-D to move forward, so this line-up feels like a move backward. Maybe this is just the flat spot in the torque curve, though. Maybe this is the twilight of the old gods.