Our smallest and largest Hondas hit the Dales between rainy days

Great Britain has had a rubbish summer. I know this for two reasons: first, I wasn’t there, and secondly because the Met Office confirmed that it’d been the coldest summer for nine years.

I spent June, July and most of August out of the country, staying at our place in South Africa. But because the technology makes it so easy, I frequently checked the weather back home and found that, almost every time I checked, it was warmer and sunnier in the depths of South Africa’s winter. This was great for riding, because most days down there it was in the low 20s, dry and sunny. Unfortunately, I didn’t get out on the bikes that much because my wife and I had committed to major house maintenance: sanding all external woodwork (and there’s a lot of it) back to bare wood and applying three coats of varnish, with careful application of wire wool and turpentine between coats. That took about seven weeks.

Then, in the absence of a plumber willing to do the work, we spend about three weeks installing a whole new wastewater treatment system, which was exacting, laborious and ultimately successful. In between times, I got out on the newly repaired V-Strom and the trusty Tiger 800; unfortunately, the TL1000S had developed a bad case of seized front brakes, so the green beauty had to stay in the garage. I’ll get to it next time.

Back in England, it was now late August. My wife wanted to get some riding time in on her new CB125, and I wanted to get better acquainted with my “new” (to me) Gold Wing. Hah! They’d been on trickle chargers and were all ready to go, but it was raining. Or cold. Or both. We had to wait until about the last day of August to brave the elements, but we did manage it.

We rode some wonderfully empty backroads up into the Yorkshire Dales to the Cat and Fiddle pub, which was closed. Turns out it’s been closed for years and now operates as a whisky distillery. I’ve passed it many times without knowing! Happily, we were there for the roads, the views, the sunshine and the fresh air, and there was plenty of all four. It was the first time we’d used our Shoei Neotec 2 Sena intercoms bike-to-bike, which was novel, and they worked well. Normally for us it’s just a rider-pillion thing. There was a bit of whistle through the system from the wind, I admit, but we’ll figure that out. For now, it was just an opportunity to enjoy our new bikes. Peter professed herself happy with the 125, while I wondered why I’d waited so long to get a Wing. It’s fabulously comfortable, natch, but handles like a bike several hundred pounds lighter. Brakes well, plenty of power for my needs, great torque. It’ll take us back to Norway next summer and, if the weather doesn’t play nice, the Wing will take it all in its stride.

45 years on, I finally bought a Wing!

I rode my first Gold Wing in August 1979; three years later I wrote the book Gold Wing; but it’s taken until last Saturday for me to actually own one. Almost 45 years is quite a wait, and I haven’t been disappointed.

That first Wing ride was memorable for many reasons. As a motorcycle journalist at the time, I’d recently come back from the launch of the 19709 BMW range in America. I’d joined seven other British journalists to sample the then-new R100RT, R100T and a few others I don’t now recall. It was probably the sheer joy of stunning California and Arizona scenery in 80-degree (Fahrenheit) weather in February that turned my head, but I liked those bikes – so much so that I ordered a new R100 Autumn Special in a glorious metallic green when I got home. I wanted that bike so much, and was thrilled when I picked it up from Slocombe’s on V-plate day, 1 August.

The following day found me at Honda’s UK headquarters in Chiswick to collect a brand-new GL1000 K3 Gold Wing. By the time I arrived home in Gravesend, I knew I’d made a mistake in buying the Beemer. To my mind, the Wing was the better bike – and it would have cost me £30 less to boot! I rode both bikes back-to-back that week and found the Honda smoother, quieter (the BMW had a tappet rattle that never went away), more comfortable and more powerful.

When I was asked to write a book on  Gold Wings in 1982, the logical place to go was Wing Ding, the annual gathering of Wing owners in the US. That year it was held in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, and I rode there on a spanking new metallic brown and gold Aspencade on loan from Honda US. Again, I admit to being seduced by the ride and the scenery: through the San Bernadino mountains, across the Mojave desert, into Las Vegas at 1 am and out again at 2 am, vast stretches of nothingness in which at one stage I didn’t see a light or sign of another human being for 30 minutes. It was 95 degrees at midnight, and what I did see was the “billion stars all around” from The Eagles’ Peaceful Easy Feeling. Fabulous bike, memorable ride over several days, awesome trip.

Yet I didn’t buy myself a Wing. There was a mortgage to pay, young children to raise, so I focused instead on more affordable second-hand machinery: a CX500, a CBX (should never have sold that one), a new Firestorm, a Kawasaki 1500 Vulcan, two Honda Valkyries, a Suzuki TL1000S, a Ducati Sport Classic, a Rocket III and finally a third Valkyrie. Oh, and then a Rune. But no Wing. Until last Saturday.

The Valkyries always appealed to me because on balance I have preferred naked bikes, and the Valk is basically a naked Gold Wing: same 1500cc flat six (until the Wing went to 1832cc and left the Valkyrie behind) but with the look of a traditional motorcycle: an engine, a petrol tank, two wheels, lots of chrome, and plenty of smooth, silky power. None of that plastic nonsense!

I borrowed a new Wing in ’88 for a week and loved it; I rode a friend’s 1800 down to Devon to buy the TL in 2005 and loved it; my wife and I rented one in Colorado for a week in 2011 and we both loved that, too. I was looking for a replacement for my Rocket III Touring and found a lovely Valkyrie in Blackpool, so for the next 10 years that became our primary tourer. But our trip to Norway 18 months ago got me thinking that the Valkyrie wasn’t necessarily the answer anymore. I messed up the rear suspension settings and that made the bike harder to manage at low speed; the handlebar position and angle seemed to cause me arm pain that didn’t happen on my other bikes; and the lack of modern amenities like built-in satnav, heated grips and easily lockable luggage suggested that maybe the time had come for a replacement.

Online reading suggested the Triumph GT900, which weighed about 100 kg less and had lots going for it: flatter bars, built-in satnav, heated grips. Or the BMW R1250 RS, which added shaft drive to the mix. Then while shopping for a new 125 for my wife to re-take her test (blog to follow) I saw not one but three BMW K1600s at prices that seemed more affordable than I’d have guessed. A test ride or two seemed in the offing.

Then last Friday I rode my Rune to Bill Smith Motors in Chester to have a new front tyre fitted. The tyre stuff didn’t work out, because the mechanics reckoned it was too hard to raise the front end of the 440kg Honda to get at the wheel. While I waited, however, I spied a very nice-looking red 2007 Gold Wing with 39,500 miles on the clock. A return trip that afternoon on the Valkyrie allowed the dealer to consider a trade-in offer. They called at 11:00 next morning with a deal that I felt was fair, and by 3pm I was riding home on my first Wing.

Initial impressions confirmed what I already knew: it was smooth, powerful, very comfortable, very sure-footed and a pleasure to ride. The riding position promised an easier time for my right arm, the centrally locked luggage system suggested easier moseying while touring, and the general amenities (fairing, great seat, radio, MP3 player, reverse gear, heated seats, heated grips, air-adjustable suspension) augured well for our future tours. Only time will tell. It’s been a long wait, almost 45 years, but I sense it’s all come right in the end.