Mid 1998 - ah yes I remember it well (to quote some French pervert who also liked ‘leetul gurls’), along with ‘Leetul’ Mark and the much missed Maz Harris, I was working as Editor on one of the earliest issues of SuperTwins: a Brit based Harley magazine. Harley UK had kept everything well under wraps - like they do - and the only street buzz was that whatever the new bike/s would be, they were intended to be launched in Europe first. When that Press Pack finally turned up it was ripped open with professional curiosity but with little real expectation. However …

‘N’yuhh!’

‘Rich! Wossup?’

‘Lookit this!’

‘Oh yeah, nice!’

‘Not the 53C, THIS!’

‘N’yuhh!’ … so it wasn’t just me then.

Very, very few new Harley models hit that mental kill-switch at first sight, leaving bikers stock still, staring intently, perhaps drooling slightly and emitting a low moaning noise. That very first 1977 Shovel-powered Low Rider was one for me, all silver-grey minimalism and attitude. And okay, alright, I admit it, the introduction of the Fat Boy in the mid-eighties was another, all silver, big, solid gert-fat presence and attitude was another and so far, the third and final model that has managed to do it was the Night Train in 1998.

If there’s one thing I respect the Harley-Davidson Motor Co. for more than anything else it is its corporate willingness to swipe bloody good ideas from the people who buy their ‘products’ and then spend a fortune changing them. So in effect allowing it’s ‘customer base’ to do much of its Research and Development. It is such a screamingly obvious thing to do that it’s honestly surprising it ever happened.

In the case of the Night Train - and indeed the Sportster 53C to a lesser extent which was launched at the same time - Harley-Davidson stole it’s styling cues from the custom scene this side of the Atlantic, not from the US. The result was minimal, uncompromising, loaded with attitude and very, very black. Just as many Europeans had intended with their hogs, the very minimalism brought forth the sleek lines buried in any Softail, the all-black non-colour scheme emphasising it and making the bike nice and scary-looking into the bargain. Designed purely for the European taste it would be another year before Americans could legitimately buy either the 53C or Night Train from their local H-D Dealerships.

Not altogether surprisingly, ever since the Night Train was introduced in that Summer of ’98 I’ve wanted to ride one. And as Editor of SuperTwins, I figured I had a pretty good chance. However Maz Harris, bless ’im, bloody got in first and nobody else from SuperTwins got a look-in that year - even Harley-Davidson had a job getting it back!

Funnily enough, Maz somehow manoeuvred himself into a position where he got to evaluate the 1999 model too. I phoned Jeremy Pick, H-D UK’s PR bod, to arrange a test on it. ‘But Maz has got it’ came the slightly perplexed reply. ‘Ah, yes, of course. Sorry.’

Y2K? Mmm. Well, I was resting, as an Editor at least. In the actor’s sense of the word. The only way I’d get to ride a Night Train this season would be to buy one.

So when me and Andy arrived at Wayside Harley-Davidson this year to pick up a Night Train and a Deuce - an extremely desirable piece of machinery in it own right - I was affecting an air of, not very convincing, nonchalance: no f’kin’ way was he going to ride it today. Today the Night Train was mine!

Swinging right leg over and settling in the Night Train seemed to feel both intimidating and just right in equal measure. But good grief the Night Train is extreme! The forward-sets seem further forward than any other stock Harley, the short straight drag bars with just a hint of pull-back, set high on huge risers, the frugally padded, almost rock-hard stepped seat. They all work to mould the rider into that authentic chop rider stance that Clink once described as ‘all looking like half-open penknives’. But still it felt right, better than right, I couldn’t wait to get it out on the road.

As expected, at low speed the short, chest height 'bars and kicked out rake, made the forks drop into bends - but not as much as I’d thought. Probably helped for once by the lightish, skinny front wheel, nothing like the amount of physical force I was prepared to use was needed to keep the bike stable and going where I’d pointed it. Again, like most Big Twins, the tractable motor and low centre of gravity was a huge help in piloting the machine slowly, too. It was never going to turn like a Sporty, but at least it was easily controllable. Luckily my long arms could compensate for the stretch needed to fully lock the bars, while U-turning, parking or weaving through heavy traffic - a less than Gibbon-armed rider though might find the going more difficult.

At higher speeds the Night Train was wonderfully stable, at almost full stretch, even for me. The handlebars became virtually redundant, which is a phrase more likely to appear in a Laverda roadtest rather than a Harley one - but nevertheless true - as slight adjustments in your bodyweight steered the motorcycle. Fabulous fun. I even started looking forward to town traffic lights: rolling into the centre of the road, dropping down through the positive gearbox and filtering up to the lights. The Night Train was so stable you could stop dead before seriously wondering whether you should bother putting a foot down at all. At lights change, oh yes dead cool, a fistful of throttle on a feathered clutch curled you back into the riding position, your feet swinging effortlessly up onto the high pegs all in one easy motion.

If I had one huge complaint during that first A-road ride home to Manchester it was the disconcerting cracking wobble that came from the head stock/yokes under anything but the most feeble front braking. To be honest it felt as if the top nut hadn’t been tightened properly, or the bearings or the races themselves were bolloxed. Although annoying, I didn’t feel it was terminal and soon began to accept the clacking as part of the Night Train experience. Only to remember again properly when Andy mentioned it after he’d taken it away.

Not once though did I complain about the ride, extreme yes - but then again I put 50,000 miles on a Sportster - the hard ride was part of the experience, part of the fun. If you want to ride a bike that looks like this you’d really have to learn to put up with it. I’ve never personally had a problem with hard seats, when well made. A well designed hard seat can be nearly as comfortable as a well designed soft one. Even a less ergonomic hard seat at least allows you to move around on it while a badly designed soft seat seems to trap you in your increasing arse-based agony. Certainly the forward sets increased the pressure on the bum somewhat but, again being lucky in the limb department again, my legs were long enough to have a couple of good inches of bend left in the knee. Enough to push, while my arms pulled and lift and shift adjust my position enough to keep the stiffness, pressure and aches well on this side of bearable. So fine for me again, but shorties beware!

Despite that skinny 21-inch laced front wheel, I didn't felt as isolated from the Night Train’s front tyre as I had on the Dyna Wide Glide, and it never did skip out in the way that the Wide Glide’s did. Although only boasting one brake up front, the stopping power at either end never really felt inadequate, despite going for it on the odd occasion. Harley really are sorting the braking out. Neither did the rear suspension feel soft and woolly, in keeping with the stance, it was firm and efficient without being harsh, and while the front forks were a little spongy, it wasn’t enough to get really annoyed about - unlike the aforementioned clacking headstock issue.

Certainly ground clearance ran out well before the superbly stiff Softail frame ever did, and that did annoy me! Everything on the motorcycle worked efficiently together to provide a firm, secure and sure-footed ride - and therefore naturally boosting rider confidence - but very little raises the hairs faster than that awful cranked over scraping which tells you that you're within a fraction of a degree of stuffing the machine spectacularly … and there would be very, very little you could do about it if you suddenly needed to tighten up round a bend, like you need to do sometimes. The rear mounting for the staggered shorty duals on the right hand side seemed to be by far the worse culprit, though the sidestand on the left was quite capable of going down too. A better set of shocks might help and it might even make the ride stiffer and more positive, but then the rider would be even more inclined to go for those bends. Swings and roundabouts I suppose.

Well, certainly roundabouts anyway.

Neither was I too keen on the finish of the crinkle black engine and other crinkly black bits like the mudguard struts. While I accepted it was part of the Night Train ethos, I couldn’t see why given the asking price, a smooth black enamel finish on the engine (like a Mr Phil Vincent would’ve used) wouldn’t work just as well if not much better. Or that ace ‘black chrome’, that the Japanese used on machines like the eighties Yamaha Midnight Specials, for cycle parts like those struts. The crinkle paint smacked too much of cheapness, cleaning difficulties and didn’t bode too well for longevity of finish. If Harley really wanted gloss-black class, why not go for it properly? Or if they’d wanted matt-black bad attitude, why not really go matt-black paint all over and knock a grand or two off of the price … down below Softail Standard territory? Proper bad ass, and one hell of a seller I’d wager. As it was, falling between the two hearts of blackness, I started to feel the Night Train didn’t quite work, almost as if Harley weren’t quite sure, or worse didn’t understand, themselves.

Blasphemy!

You see, despite my enjoyment, while I couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but I wasn’t enjoying the Night Train quite as much as I’d thought I would. Maybe after waiting four years that was going to be inevitable, but I was slightly disappointed. Partly I think, though the Night Train suited me, it’s riding position, attitude, stance and basic aesthetic firing off all the right triggers in me, I didn’t quite suit it. Maybe sounds a bit stupid but it’s the best explanation I can provide right now.

It’s like when you’re your girlfriend first starts farting in your presence - you still love her n’everything, if not more so - but you understand that that first flush of excitement, buzz and mystery is most likely over. The relationship’s moving inexorably into another phase - but you still find her dead horny and you still feel great walking down the street with her as she turns heads!

So there lies the rub: despite finding out all of its faults and shortcomings, and feeling somewhat disillusioned - deep, deep down I still think the FXSTB Night Train is totally, unutterably gorgeous and desperately want one.

Love truly is blind!

Second Opinion:
Words: Andy

Ah, the Night Train.

That wonderful economy of line; that classic stance; that instantly recognisable combination of parts that doesn’t merely whisper “Harley Davidson” but shouts it from the rooftops … or will do once someone bins the farting kitten silencers and replaces them with something that will do justice to the overall image.

Undoubtedly a thing of great beauty, and something that would look stunning in my sitting room … in a glass case. This is the bike that brings out all sorts of contradictions in me, and it is a bike that Harley should be congratulated for making.

This bike, more than any other, demonstrates just how much you can engineer into a machine under factory conditions by way of character. It is brutal in its appearance, it is uncompromising in its ride, yet it is still top-quality engineering and compromises nothing in build quality compared to anything that it shares showroom floorspace with.

For those riders who want to know that they’re on a Harley-Davidson, and looking to reproduce the ride and style of a bike of forty years ago, then this is the new bike to do that but with the added advantage of 21st century reliability and engineering tolerances. With one exception: the feedback from the motor is too heavily stifled by the balance shafts in this solid-mount application. It would be tempting to slide a straight Twin Cam 88 motor into the engine bay of this Softail chassis to reintroduce that engine feedback, but I can only speculate as to what the higher pitch vibrations would inflict on the riders when neither damped or balanced-out, and I don’t think it would bear comparison with the solid mount lower-revving Evo that preceded it.

This is very much a personal thing, I am aware that people revert to hardtails, and even build big-inch motors in hardtails and live with - and actively seek - what I would consider to be abject discomfort, but there is also the Ness/Daytec frame which can offer you a rubber-mounted Softail experience and it is in this direction that I would throw my wedge.

It’s also worth mentioning that I wouldn’t be surprised to see the price of 1998-2000 Evo-engined Night Trains holding their own, or even climbing because this, if no other, of the Softails is demanding of that raw solid-mount unsophisticated feedback that the pre-balanced 88B offers.

So, the Night Train is a triumph of form over function - which outsiders would argue should be the Motor Company’s mission statement - and in much the same way as the massively more expensive Deuce, it is the finished item. It needs nothing else to do what it does - other than louder pipes and a Stage One kit - and to add to it would be to the detriment of the bike.

I’ve come across one recently with a more touring-oriented seat upon it, and a rack in the crinkle-finish that is everywhere where aluminium would otherwise be, and it looked wrong. All wrong. The owner had bought it as it was, and was absolutely chuffed to bits with it because it was comfortable and practical, which the Night Train really isn’t in the true sense of the word. Realistically, he hadn’t bought it as a Night Train, he’d bought it as a black Softail with some touring credentials and it met his requirements, and I confess it would have met mine more than the stocker did if only for the seat. But the Night train wasn’t designed for me, any more than it was the guy who’d bought that one.

The Night Train is designed for the rider who would be more likely to remove the seat altogether and replace it with a strip of leather to protect the paint but little else. We’ve seen them, we know them: they are the purists who will readily compromise themselves for the purpose of the perfect statement in steel and aluminium, and the best of luck to them. And all respect to Harley-Davidson for acknowledging their existence, after the years of building a revised image complete with a reinvented history where the leisure buck was eagerly sought at the expense of their die-hard customer base. Too scathing, perhaps? Not really, merely an observation based on the plain fact that they don’t actually need to sell their motorcycles to their long-standing customers, because they’ll buy them anyway, and indeed they scarcely need to develop bikes for them either because such riders have a history of doing it for themselves.

So, what is the Night Train?

One stage up from the bare minimum that is the Softail Standard. It has been said that less is more, and while the FXSTB wasn’t in the mind of the originator of that statement, it might well have been. To make the stripped-down bike it has been necessary to add to the basic model, but adding has been kept to a minimum too: more replacing really.

Only a couple of parts are specific to the Night Train, and the rest has been a judicious selection of existing hardware appropriated in search for aesthetic perfection. And it is this aesthetic that compromises the bike. Straight risers topped off with almost flat bars endow the rider with an aggressive stance that perfectly suits the character of the bike but does little to provide respite for the rider’s back. The forward controls keep your legs directly out in front too, putting all of your weight onto your backside, which is prevented from chafing on the frame rails, but damn-all else by the Badlander seat. This riding position is the essence of the bike: it is a stance that you either can or can’t live with, and I’m obliged to say that I can’t. Up to a hundred miles it is bearable, but every mile thereafter finds you scanning for any sort of brew stop to take the weight off your arse. With a passenger, I can imagine that would drop to fifty miles - always assuming you can find one who’ll venture onto the beautifully crafted but woefully inadequate padded styling flourish that masquerades as a pillion. A two hundred mile round trip saw off my desire for the Night Train in a single day, and when Rich offered to return the bike, I jumped at the chance.

As I mentioned, the rest of the parts are ex-stock items that have been harnessed, and very sympathetically: the solid rear wheel never looked better than with the centre blacked out, and the tank and console is my favourite combination for the classic Harley line. The Fat Bob fuel tank has much in common with the shape of the item fitted to the Hydra Glides that inspired the entire Softail range, but is distinctly different insofar as being a one-piece unit rather than two separate halves bolted to either side of the frame. This does have the visual effect of raising it above the line of the frame itself, but in black it is less noticeable and can be forgiven. It also means that the original dual filler caps, which were previously essential - unless you fancied waiting until the fuel filtered through the balance pipes between the two tanks - are now retained for the purpose of symmetry, with the left-hand item being nothing more than countersunk cup holding a fuel gauge. The front end is shared with the Softail Standard and Dyna Wide Glide and would be typically better than the one we tested which was suffering from under-tightened steering head bearings, causing it to clash when taking up the slack under braking. At least, that’s what I put it down to: we’ve not had a problem with any other examples using the same set-up, and it is something that would be ironed out in short-order if you’d shelled out for the bike.

And then there’s the finish, which is as contentious as the riding position.

Wrinkle black everything.

It is a matter of taste, and it isn’t to mine. Rich mentions the enamelled engines of times past and I’d have to concur: I’d happily swap the wrinkle finish for a deep, smooth rich black finish any time. It would be easier to clean, and would add another dimension to the whole bike. It isn’t fair to pick on the Night Train alone in this context, but it is the most visible use of the finish that also features highly on the chromed engines and the sporty Dynas, and in the case of the Dyna Sports, it is less of an issue. Sports bikes should look like they’ve been ridden hard, black custom bikes when dirty look tatty too easily. On the Night Train, it is obtrusive, and before you ask how the hell can black be obtrusive, it is because it is more than black: because it is black with a texture … and because that texture collects and oft-time refuses to relinquish its grip on road dirt, which makes it a dark muddy brown, and can even become white if you get Autosol anywhere near it.

Rah, rah, rah … and rah again.

Didn’t like it then?

Not s’much didn’t like it, as no longer wanted it. No longer lusted after its perfect line. It’s akin to the lust you have for the models on magazine covers, but who you’d have absolutely no desire to live with.

Horses for course, I s’pose. If I lived in a city where the speeds were low and the distances short, it would be a better bet: lots of big plate glass windows in which to admire the lines and plenty of sets of traffic lights to give you opportunity to put your feet down, taking the weight off. I don’t live in a city though, and by the time I’d got to one, I’d be glad of a burger bar or similar where I could recompose myself. Moreover, I tend to avoid cities because the open road holds greater appeal, and on the open road I found the Night Train to be too compromised for anything I wanted to do.

For me, the Night Train is all about compromise, which is odd for such an uncompromising bike, but then all bikes are about compromise it’s only a matter of how much and by whom. I will not be compromised by my bikes: I will compromise them to get what I want, but typically I choose bikes that don’t need it. The Night Train demands that the rider compromises themselves to fit in around it, and it is there where we part company.

It has its place, and I see this as a bike that will command a fiercely loyal following, but that place isn’t between my Buell and Electra Glide in the shed.

Specifications        

Engine:	Twin Cam 88B (balanced). Air-cooled 45° V-twin.
Displacement:	1449cc (88 ci)
Compression Ratio:	8.8:1
Bore & Stroke:	95.3 x 101.6
Torque:	106.0Nm @ 3200rpm
Fuel System:	Single Keihin 40mm CV carburettor
Exhaust System:	Staggered shorty duals
Oil Capacity:	3.3 litres
Fuel Capacity:	18.9 litres (includes reserve)
Wheels:	Front: 21 x 2.15 laced; Rear: 16 x 3.00 DOT disc
Tyres:	Front: MH 90-21 56H; Rear: MT 90B 16 74H
Brakes:	Front: 292mm disc; Rear: 292mm disc
Primary Drive:	Double-row (duplex) chain
Final Drive:	Kevlar belt
Overall Length:	2420mm
Seat Height:	643mm
Ground clearance:	140.9mm
Rake/Trail:	34 degrees / 126.9mm
Wheelbase:	1697.9mm
Dry Weight:	305kg
Lean Angles:	30° left / 31° right
Instruments:	Electronic speedo with odometer and resettable trip meter. Fuel gauge, oil pressure light, engine diagnostic light. Optional security system light
Colour Options:	Vivid Black, Jade Sunglo pearl
Price:	£11,195 Prices include usual otr inc. PDI, full tank of fuel, 12-months tax, first service, 12 months membership of Harley Owners Group (HOG) including their European roadside recovery
Test bike kindly supplied by:	Harley-Davidson UK. Oxford Business Park, 6000 Garsington Road, Oxford England OX4 2DQ Tel: 0870 850 1903 (UK)