By Rohit Jaggi
Published: May 23 2009 02:09 | Last updated: May 23 2009 02:09
If one of the UK’s army of closed circuit television cameras had been stationed on a quiet roundabout in Wiltshire a few weeks ago, it would have recorded a strange sight. Riding on the new Honda Fireblade, I was about to take my exit, when I changed my mind and made another circuit. In fact I continued to circulate around the asphalt oval a dozen times or more before eventually, reluctantly, I headed on my way.
The Fireblade invites you to go out and play on it. Indeed, there is more than a whiff of boys’ toy about this motorcycle. The gearbox has a busy whine at low speed that sounds like a radio-controlled electric toy car, and when warm the bike smells of the same hot, light oil that filled my nostrils when I played with Scalextric cars as a child.
Honda’s flagship supersports bike is also tiny and light, but there’s nothing toylike about the shriek from the engine when you tweak the throttle. At 4,000rpm, a valve in the exhaust opens to let the engine storm up to its 13,000rpm redline. The result is more a mechanically busy wail than the bass bellow of an Aston Martin Vantage, say, but there’s a similar display of potency.
The bike is the latest in a line of machines that revolutionised sports motorcycles. Back in 1992, Honda started selling the FireBlade, a 900cc four-cylinder machine that startled bikers with its compact dimensions and light weight. The bike gained a reputation for flighty but nimble handling that made its class rivals feel like lumbering leviathans.
I still own one of the early FireBlades, which joined my family of bikes a little before my younger daughter Cicely was born. (She is now 13 and starting to ride bikes – but is not yet quite ready for a Blade.) My 1992 machine is a little tired, not least after a couple of racetrack tumbles, but still copes with everything from commuting and touring to thrashing around a circuit.
Successive redesigns piled on the horsepower but stripped away the kilos. Even the second capital letter in the name was pared back. In 1992 the 124bhp power output and 185kg dry weight were revolutionary. The current Blade’s 175bhp and 172kg are merely representative of the class it helped create. What weight has remained is concentrated around the centre of the bike, helping to make it easy to turn without sacrificing stability. A new feature – an advanced electronic anti-lock braking system – adds 10kg but makes the machine more usable on the road.
I put this latest Fireblade to the test on a weekend away in England’s south-west. Relentless rain put a crimp in my ability to use the new bike’s power but presented a good opportunity to see what the electronically controlled Combined ABS (C-ABS) brake set-up could do.
Honda has pledged to introduce the option of anti-lock brakes on most of its 250cc-plus bikes by 2010, but needed to develop a system that would not be too crude for its supersports machines. The pulsing felt through the lever on some BMW systems, for example, is distracting.
The C-ABS system avoids the wheels locking – no matter what the road surface – as long as you are upright, but retains all the feel of the non-ABS Blade’s subtly powerful brakes. At a test track, I slammed on the brakes while speeding along a strip of sand: the bike simply slowed, much more quickly than I would have thought possible on such a loose surface.
According to Honda, the system is as good as the most skilled rider on dry roads. Where it is most useful, though, is on a road with a patchwork of diesel-fuel spills, or when the rider is slightly distracted. In these situations, it allows riders to learn in safety about the capabilities of their machine.
All is not unalloyed joy about the new Blade, though. The fuel injection is less than perfect, with some surging on a steady throttle opening. Driveline backlash is also sometimes intrusive – a problem shared with my early Blade.
Those criticisms take a back seat to the pillion accommodation, however. The professor, my partner, was aghast. “It’s the most uncomfortable bike I’ve ever been on,” she exclaimed. Which was a shame, as she rates the rear seat of my early Blade very highly indeed.
Another professor, one of quite a few bike-riding academics my professor knows, was not moved to trade in his three-year-old Blade. “My partner needed to crush my ribcage to stay on!” he said. A further willing pillion tester found years of horse-riding stood her in good stead as she sought to secure herself by gripping my hips with her knees. But, perhaps because of too much time in the saddle the day before, she found the lack of cushioning on the pillion-seat a particular problem.
Carrying a passenger is not what this bike is about, though. On the way back to London along empty minor roads, I happily stitched bends into one sinuous ribbon of fierce acceleration, ferocious braking and spirited cornering.
Getting back on to my own Blade the next day, I realised I was pining for its younger sibling’s brakes – the confidence that they inspire is addictive. In fact, the main problem with the new Blade is that my old one, for so long the favourite of my little fleet, is no longer good enough.
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