As a perpetual worrier, my mother’s mantra was风险无处不在. Drugs, alcohol, punk music, a male friend with long hair or (imagine!) a female friend with short hair were all to be feared. But my mother had it all wrong. The real risk to one’s life is far more sinister than my cursory list. It’s doing what you’re likely doing right now: sitting. High blood pressure, unsightly belly fat, and diabetes—with their associated risks of increased cardiovascular disease (strokes and heart attacks)—are the three stars of too much sitting. And pretty much all of us sit for too long. And what do we motorcyclists do when we ride? Sit. See the problem?
I’ve done a lot of sitting this summer. A thousand miles on a KLR and another thousand on a Suzuki SV650. A long few days in the woods on Honda’s CRF300L and a hot few days in the city on Honda’s new Scrambler. And, as always, a monthly coffee shop run on my Ducati 916. But the majority of my time in the saddle was on a Honda Gold Wing. Nearly 2,000 miles from southern Canada north to the brilliantly named town of Wawa on the spectacular eastern shore of Lake Superior.
It’d been over a decade since I’d spent time on a Gold Wing, a machine far away from my two-wheeled predilection for light, lithe, fast, and mildly cantankerous motorcycles. And yet I love the Gold Wing, because it’s an honest and serious motorcycle. Yet I understand why the Gold Wing is often a subject for ridicule. Just look at it. All the grace of a fridge on casters. But what a rapid fridge it is. And the latest iteration of the Gold Wing has a dynamic capability that belies its absurd visage.
On a lovely section of coastal road with dramatic views of Lake Superior, while pausing for a very Gold-Wing-like photo op at a scenic overlook, I rejoined the road and fell in behind a group of briskly ridden Euro bikes. An Aprilia Tuono, KTM Super Duke, and Ducati Streetfighter. I passed them all. And gapped them. And all this two-up with enough luggage to keep me in clean underwear for a fortnight. And it wasn’t nearly as undignified an exercise as it sounds. There wasn’t any grinding of footpegs, the suspension (electronically set in two-up with luggage mode) was taut and the feedback from the wonky-looking double-wishbone front end has none of the vagueness that can afflict Telelever-equipped BMWs.
And then there’s that engine. A sonorous flat-six that sounds, as its configuration would suggest, like the flat six in a Porsche 911. How’s that for company? I never missed an opportunity to wind the ’Wing up to redline just to hear the howl. But while the Honda, in my view, has more than enough space to stash whatever one could need, when we bumped into riders on older ’Wings it was instantly apparent that the bike has become (believe it or not) leaner and more aerodynamic than before. “Too sporty, your bike,” said the rider of a 2004 Gold Wing with a top trunk large enough to swallow two-thirds of the 2023 version of the bike. “It’s a fashion bike now,” said the rider of a 2008 ’Wing. “Really, you find this fashionable?” I asked the man, who gave me the look a man gives when a conversation has run its course. But I don’t care much about luggage space. What I care about is the Gold Wing’s seat.
Cupped, voluminous, and high-backed, the Honda’s seat is the most comfortable place to sit on a moving vehicle this side of the perch in a Mercedes. It’s that good. And yet, in a bizarre twist, I find the seat and riding position of my 916 more comfortable than the Gold Wing. Yes, you read that right. But before you jump to the comments below to let me know how you really feel, I’ll give you a guide to my anatomy. For nine months I’ve had an issue with my sciatic nerve, which has taken issue with my arthritic spine and is doing its level best to put me in the madhouse.
一瞬间感觉好像正在飙升into my ass. The next moment as if a cat is sharpening its claws on my left calf. The days are tough. Nights are tougher. My only respite from the pain is when I crunch forward like I’m sitting on a high footpeg, low clip-on sportbike. Riding the 916 and hunched over on my racing bicycle are the only times I’m pain-free. If my current state is extreme, driven by an anatomy that’s exacting its revenge for a lifetime of hockey hits and racing crashes, it also points to a rarely-discussed topic—what, exactly, is “comfort” on a motorcycle? It’s far more contentious an issue than you’d initially expect.
For obvious reasons, height and shape command most of our attention when the conversation veers—as it often does with riders—to motorcycle seats. I’ve ridden in groups with riders of a similar build to mine and yet our opinions of seats are radically different. I’m convinced happiness in the saddle has less to do with the seat itself and more to do with how far the body rolls forward while reaching for the handlebar. The ideal for me, even before sciatic nerve issues, is the slight forward cant of “sporting” (if not outright sport) machines. KTM’s RC390 worked for me. As did the SV650 this summer. My ’90s Ducati 900SS hits my sweet spot, too. The worst? Cruisers. As much as I loved to kick my feet up on my dad’s 1970s La-Z-Boy, the feet-forward, body-into-the-breeze riding position forces the tailbone into the seat with spine-crushing misery once the wind-blast has its way. I once crawled off a Harley Sportster after 40 miles unable to feel the lower half of my body. Alas, a Panhead chopper isn’t in my future.
Rider variances aside, I believe the riding position that works for more riders more of the time is the time-tested way in which we sit on a dirtbike. Designed for maximum control whether seated or standing, on surfaces smooth or jarring, it’s the compromise that works best for most of us. And I can’t wait to be able to throw a leg over an ADV bike again and ride without misery. The day can’t come soon enough. But until then, I’ll retreat into the opulent comfort of the 916.
