So nostalgia's not an especially new concept. If you want a Harley that is going to summon up visions of yesteryear, you are really not short of options: both of the Springers, and the Heritage Softail Classic summon up the forties, the Sportster has one foot in the fifties, the Touring models conjure up the sixties and the Dyna range, the seventies. But for all that, stick a pair of white-wall tyres and a set of leather bags on a bike and the result will bring a tear to the eye of a whole generation of former motorcyclists, and those who always meant to become one in the first place but never quite got round to it.

White-walls do that to almost any vehicle. They are usually associated, along with spats, Fedoras and Thompson machine guns with prohibition following the great depression in the US, but they really came into fashion in the fifties and remained in vogue up to the mid sixties, at which point they contracted to become white pinstripes, before disappearing altogether in the seventies as they became too anachronistic for a forward-looking generation. First mention I can find for a white-walled option in old Harley order blanks is for 1958, coincidentally arriving at the same time as hydraulic rear suspension, and the Duo Glide. That should surprise nobody, as the Road King makes no apologies for giving more than a passing nod to the stylistic influence of that very bike … except in the use of the "King" saddlebags that had been withdrawn the previous year. Coincidental recycling of a name? Possibly, when you consider the original Road King was a slant-bag equipped model, but it isn't often that the re-inventors of the nostalgia game miss that sort of trick.

I've seldom ridden a bike that attracts so much interest from so varied a cross-section of society. Yes, Bikers will spot the Heritage Softail as being the true classic, but the rest of the planet sees the white-walls and cranks the clock back to a distant decade. It's Peckforton all over again. I'm quite prepared to believe that they haven't considered it to be a brand new bike and I'm not about to put them straight, I just feel slightly too modern in my flip-front helmet.

Thankfully for the returnee riders for who the Road King Classic is an opportunity to relive their youth, or reinvent themselves, the bike is as up to date as they come - in Harley terms at least. Thankfully too, the technology that bonds white sidewalls into carbon black rubber has a lesser effect on the adhesive qualities of the tyre's contact patch than has previously been the case, and while more caution should be exercised, they're a lot more predictable than they once were.

Beyond the white-walls, time has been healing greatly.

Even the "King" panniers have felt the hand of development at their shoulder with a solid form beneath the leather maintaining a shape that otherwise would have sagged through exposure to rain and worse. Coupled to that is a quick release system for the hinged lids to avoid the unpleasantries of having to deal with leather straps and buckles - no, not those leather straps and buckles - although it was always my belief that a buckle was a quick release system in itself. Mustn't be too unkind though, because while it is a doddle to unbuckle such things in the dry, to do so in a downpour with wet leather to contend with is something that most would seek to avoid where possible - what do you mean, you wouldn't take it out in the wet?

Panniers weren't standard issue in 1958: the stock dresser was some way off, but if you had taken the "Road Cruiser" or "King of the Highway" option, your panniers would've been accompanied by a Hydra-Glide windscreen, and while that item would have been a three-piece affair with colour options on the lower sections, it bears remarkable similarity to the one-piece item seen on the Road Kings. We've called it a police screen for years to identify it from the Bat Wing Electra fairing, and it isn't generally accredited for its weather protection, but I'll have you know it is staggeringly efficient. Running through a wet British summer, I resorted to nothing more than waterproof over-trousers to keep leathered legs dry, while my regular, albeit decent quality, leather jacket relied on the screen to keep the worst of the weather off - and it did, admirably. In fact, despite everything from persistent drizzle to hale-carrying thunderstorms, my leather never showed any signs worse than briefly walking through the same conditions.

I know screens aren't to everyone's tastes, and this is where the Road Kings come good. A quick forward tug of the screen releases it from its upper locator peg, pivoting on the lower one and it is ready to be lifted cleanly upwards. This serves two purposes: it keeps you cooler in hot weather, and it gives an uninterrupted view of that expanse of chrome that is the nearest thing to a post-1960 DuoGlide headlamp that you'll find on a stock current range Harley. Impressively, the panniers are quick release too, but less fortunately, the view behind them is great for cleaning, but not so good in the aesthetic stakes: the clean, classic lines of the 4-speed frame are not inherited by the FLHT Rubber Glide chassis, and while the air shocks are great in operation, they're not going to win any awards for being pretty. In fact their modern clean lines look rather incongruous in such surroundings. Before you debate replacing them with nice conventional shocks with exposed springs, bear in mind that the ABS cover in front of them is at least as responsible to the inability for it to cut the mustard as an undresser, as the shocks themselves. And don't think about removing those unless you've got a few hours on your hands, for while they do come off quickly - and need to for access behind - they are a lot more attractive than the bits they hide, and to replace them would be time consuming, and ultimately unrewarding. So it's a good-looking dresser or nothing really.

Talking of shocks, there was little mention in the news of model range changes - in fact I can find none - pertaining to the disappearance of one of the valves that live inboard of the right-hand pannier on the FLHTs this year, but sure enough one has gone. The rear shocks are still the adjustable air-assisted items we've grown to love or begrudgingly accept, but the forks are now back to a pair of heavyweight pogo sticks without adjustment of any kind that I can find. It doesn't mean they're not adjustable, it's just that the adjustment is cleverly hidden if they are: there's no access to the fork tops through the nacelle, and not a trace at the bottom. Problem? Not really. If you're that desparate you can always stick stiffer springs in, but it has been nice to set up your tourer to be a firm ride front and rear, to keep the ground clearance up - and in my case to minimise the dive under heavy braking when the Turbo's still boosting into corners.

And that's the only disappointment with the 2002 model, unless you include the ridiculous legal requirement for a UK sized number plate that won't fit on the prepared position above the taillight, and consequently lives below it, with its own tacky plastic illumimination, but that's been with us for a while. Doesn't make it any more palatable, though, and really makes you wonder whether some people shouldn't have better things to worry about ... and that could include me, I know, but some things really annoy me. Still, at least the extremely rigid American number plate bracket can be removed without upsetting too much, until you start messing about with tour paks and the rack has a replacement item built in ... guess who's got a rack for a tour pak? It's okay, I'll lie down for a bit and compose myself.

I probably wouldn't have been as much aware of the missing air forks if I hadn't recently ridden the 1700cc stroker from Centurion in Chester, and been amazed how firm Kirk had got it set up: it made my Electra seem feel quite luxurious - which is arguably as it should be - but my Electra will touch its footboards down while the Road King wouldn't. Kirk explained that he'd used the Road King specifically to show off the flexibility of the stroker kit, as it was the one bike of the whole range that he could keep pace with anything else on. With such ringing endorsement in mind, I set about testing the Classic as soon as I had the opportunity, and on a wide selection of fast A- and B-roads, came to marvel at the ground clearance available, and the predictability of the whole bike.

It wasn't as hard a set up as the Stroker, but then you'd be unwise to over-stiffen the tail end of any bike without accounting for the effect of the forks. It reminded me of a particularly strange solo outing on my old Shovelhead, after I'd returned from a long two-up run but hadn't reset the preload on the rear conventional shocks. The action of sitting on the bike caused the forks to settle on their springs while the rear shocks didn't budge at all. Effect? The steering geometry changed quite markedly, steepening the angle of the forks, and it only became worse as I rode it, with the forks absorbing the bumps, while the back end maintained its stance. Quite unsettling, and I was glad of the leverage of those massive bars. Before someone reminds me about hardtails, bear in mind that they are set up with geometry that accounts for a static back end. Point is, match the front end to the back end, and if - as now - you can't adjust the front end, make sure you take greater care when switching from two-up with luggage to solo riding. Always assuming, of course, that you've adjusted them in the first place.

What they make rather more of a noise about is the addition of cruise control for the 2002 model year. I've used this on the Ultras before now, but there seems to be some changing of its functionality for the better. The original cruise control would work in the gear in which you set it - usually top, it must be said - and would be cancelled by either brake, or the clutch retaining no memory of its setting, therefore needing resetting even on returning to top. It was also set by throttle position more than road speed, to the extent that if you set it while accelerating, it would carry on accelerating making it very hard to correctly get a road speed you're happy with. For 2002 it is different. Set it at seventy in top and it'll stay there all day. Change down to fourth and hit "resume" and it will climb to seventy again and hold it. Better still, if you're accelerating hard and hit "set" as the needle passes seventy, when you throttle back, it will go back to seventy and stay there. Much better all round. It is still cancelled by the clutch and either brake, or manually by switching it off, but with any of the auto-cancels it keeps the set speed in memory for as long as the ignition is turned on or the system is armed, and you can resume that speed at your leisure. Once set, speeda can be increased on the throttle at will, without a drama, and the prescribed speed can be increased or reduced by pressing and holding the set/reset button until you're happy. Also new, it gains a red light by the on/off switch at the left handlebar to let you know it's armed, and a green light at the set/reset / up/down switch at the right-handlebar to let you know it's set. The lights are visible but not distinct in daytime, and at night conform to international maritime conventions that say that the port side of the vessel should be marked with a red marker, and a green on the starboard. Handy that.

There are those - and I've been among them - who would question the need for a cruise control on a motorcycle, but on long hauls it is useful to be able to maintain good average speeds without thinking too much about it. More so now that Harleys are more than capable at covering the ground at hitherto unexpected speed - especially when riding behind a screen that removes a fundamental sense of speed by removing the headwind - and doubly so in the face of an army of grey or fluorescent yellow boxes containing cameras and speed sensors, each determined to separate you from your license, and with no power of discretion when judging the use of speed in the road conditions as often exercised by real policemen. It's a strange use for such a device, but I used it extensively: spot the speed limit, match the speed, hit "set" and throttle off. This frees you from the legal niceties and gives you chance to do the important stuff like keep both eyes on the road and the wide variety of modern day hazards, safe in the knowledge that the lazy engine between your legs isn't slowly upping the pace.

So, it's an old fashioned-looking yet sophisticated, modern interpretation that compromises little in its attempt to provide an alternative to a full dress Electra Glide - which it does successfully. It provides a stable, sure-footed platform for the lazy, perfectly-suited power of the 1450cc Twin Cam engine, isolated from its mechanical vibration by rubber mounts. In the UK it is stoked by fuel-injection only, which adds to the ease of use in a broad range of road conditions, albeit at the expense of higher tuning costs - and having mentioned the stroker kit earlier, it's worth noting that the official Screamin' Eagle stroker kit does not work with injected models due to a lack of an in-house injector. But while the stroker conversion gives a wonderful boost, it isn't essential, and a 1550cc conversion will be more than most Road King Classic owners would really want. Even with a freer breathing 1450, it'll be nice to stick a pair of slip-on mufflers on to lose the tell-tale browning of the stock silencers, which indicate an engine that has been asked to lift up its skirts and break into an occasional sprint.

But just as it's a very capable tourer, it also makes an impact as a streetbike and you'll find as many used for commuting or city work, as you'll find on the highway with a distant goal in easy range. As with its plainer sibling, the Road King doesn't take the touring seat from the Electra, but a street-styled seat to keep things tight, stylistically. Luckily it is a street-bike seat that works well over distance, although I personally prefer the stock model's version of it. I know it has been Rich's favourite for some time, but I find it too firm on the front, and horrible on the back, although to be fair this bike was the first Harley I've ever ridden pillion on, and the first pillion seat I've sat on for quite a while. I now look at my wife with renewed respect having taken that perch for sixty or so miles, and there is no doubt that the torquey nature of a Harley engine takes on a new dimension when you've not got a pair of handlebars to grip. I've twigged why backrests are so common in the US, and especially on Harleys, and I've adjusted my riding style when two-up accordingly.

As I said at the beginning, this was going to be a history lesson of sorts. The analogies work well: the Road King Classic takes from the Duo Glides of old in exactly the same way that Peckforton borrowed from Beeston, and there are many who will see a Road King Classic as the quintessential Harley but walk past a tatty Duo Glide in need of a little restoration, dismissing it as a lesser bike.

The analogy breaks down however because while Beeston was a defensive building with a very specific purpose and fulfilled its role very well, Peckforton - for all its castellations and impressive-looking curtain walls - wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell against much more than small arms fire in the heat of a real battle, and this is where the Road King Classic breaks with the analogy. The Duo Glide is a good, solid piece of kit. It did its job and continues to do so for the few lucky ones who have managed to find one. The Road King Classic builds on that, but it is no lightweight pretender, basking in the reflected glory of its forebear. It is every bit as capable as that which went before and, due to the continuing adherence to traditional engineering principles, forty-five years hence, I'd expect to see as high a percentage of todays's production bikes as there are Duo Glides today. Probably higher, because there won't be as many butchered for their engines.

As I said at the beginning, this was going to be a history lesson, but actually it isn't, becausePeckforton castle was shut, and its nice driveways weren't available to us. I suppose I could've used Beeston, but it is a proper castle, and so what remains of its fortifications are deliberately inaccessible. That leaves the respective gatehouses, and while that is largely intact at Beeston, it is a military building and not especially attractive, while Peckforton's is in keeping with the role of what lies beyond: alluding to glory, but the nineteenth century's equivalent to the acres of mock-Georgian mansions being thrown up today by the great and good, and by celebrities. So that buggers up another analogy that was working quite well, because the Duo Glide is anything but plain and functional.

Oh well, so much for history.

Best not mention it then.

Second Opinion:
Words: Rich

Most people's first impression of a Road King, any Road King, is that they are big, very big. I've got to say I'm fairly well used to Harley's touring behemoths, but most people I invite to sit on the beasts are one hundred percent intimidated. Not only are the machines seemingly hugely long, but fat tank, massively wide 'bars, gargantuan mudguards, fat wheels, loads of footboards, huge screen and to top it all off, low slung panniers fattening the back end to ludicrous proportions they just do NOT want to know. 'No way can I ride this!' is not an uncommon remark.

Give it a go, I bet you can. Nope, still not interested.

They're convinced that something this massive could not possibly handle - they're also convinced - if they're brave enough to lift the beast off the stand - that something this ridiculously heavy cannot be ridden safely by, well, them for starters. Even if they were even marginally tempted to timidly wobble into the distance, there is that price tag to take into consideration - Road King's are not all that cheap: yeah, take a look … exactly! And the thought of stuffing one, especially through an inability to hold one upright is much too much to contemplate, but as anybody who has ridden one of Harley's big tourers will tell you to exhaustion, once the machine is under power the weight magically disappears. Experienced riders of such kit will explain you can have confidence that because the weight is concentrated below the wheel spindles, as long as it is more or less upright, you really will not notice all that mass: even when stationary or at very slow speed. Nope, go blue in the face yapping, they will not believe you.

They are wrong though.

No, honest.

The bike we're testing here is the top of the range Road King Classic: "FL" denotes it is a Big Twin with heavyweight works, the "H" is a carryover from days when the high comp "Super Sports" models were still running alongside even lazier "Sport Solo" versions, and the "R" says it is a Road King. Add to that a "C" for Classic, and an "I" for Injection and you've cracked the code on what is a very expensive piece of kit: First question: Could I really ride it? Second Question: Is it really worth all that money?

The dead simple and truthful answer to both is 'Yes'. If life were that easy I could nip off down the pub now - but I bet you want those answers qualifying don't you? I knew it. You complete and utter b*$*@rds!

Road Kings were a long, long time in the making. Based on the Electra Glide format they have a huge amount of history behind them - but if history was all, Electra Glides would have fizzled away before the sixties were out. Way before the sixties though, Harley were perfecting a style of huge, comfortable tourer that also could be thrown around. That sit up straight, big screen, long wheelbase MF has been around a very long time now, at least since the late thirties - or seventy odd years if you want to really mess with your head - but Harley have slowly refined the package (horrible word), with such luxuries as suspension and increasingly efficient, more powerful engines, and the process of refinement, the evolution, has continued. The original design brief, successfully met then has, through necessity, been improved but not massively altered.

Harley have still consistently sold the beasts to people who make a living from having to sit in the saddle all day and have to be able to make the thing turn on a sixpence, as well as go, and handle well if needs be. I'm talking about various American Police forces, who, if they thought a Pan European, Gold Wing or whatever could fit the bill they would've, for the sake of expediency, gone for those machines. The reason that a motorcycle like the Road King is still on the road as a viable touring option, and as a Police special, is that the thing still is more than able to do its job despite being, to all intents and purposes, a throwback to a far gone age.

Okay, fair enough, but is any progress being made? We're talking two years into the twenty first century here, not some post WWII diner and jukebox reverie.

Again the answer has to be yes. This 2002 Harley-Davidson Road King Classic does hark back fairly heavily to the golden years of the previous century, but it is not stuck there. Even in comparison to my own 1994 Evolution-engined Road King the differences between the two are pretty stark.

Fitted with the 88ci Twin Cam motor, the 2002 Road King, even bog-standard has the capability to really fly. While the low-down grunt is still there, as with previous H-D big twins, the Twin Cam can also throw up gobs of power at the top end of its rev range and the fuel injection system on the Road King Classic means that whatever the weather, wherever you happen to be, that engine will be performing properly. The motor - rubber mounted in the Glide frame - seems silky smooth: it may well not be, but it feels that way and does not seem at all strained even cruising at a fuel-gobbling 90mph plus.

Between 70 and 80mph you understand what 'they' meant by 'Glide'. Road slips by easily under those foot boards, while you sit comfortably on the capacious seat, feet flat on those boards and - if you choose to be - nicely cocooned behind the incredibly effective, but easily removable big screen. The engine is sweet and the suspension just swallows those nasty imperfections in road surface. You could quite easily be two foot off of the ground.

Okay fine, but for me the 2002 Road King Classic is not quite so comfortable long distance as, say, my earlier framed 94 Evo. Stylistically the 2002 Road King Classic benefits from perhaps a slightly lower seat height, it looks sleeker, more Hot Roddish, but those couple of inches are noticeable long distance. I never needed to stretch my legs out and rest them on the edge of a pre-97 Road King's foot boards for instance, like I had to do with the 'new' frame 88. Pillions never complained on the pre-97's, oh boy do they now. Me and Andy shared the riding on a 300 mile trip darn sarf, two-up, even riding we stiffened up (hey, don't get saucy), but the pillion was absolute murder. An after-market accessory backrest would have to be a definite must buy purchase if you would like to take someone long distance on a regular basis.

Style verses function eh? Well, with the '94 to '96 Evo Road Kings the function was the style. Time to roll back the raison d'être eh H-D?

On the other hand - just to really screw things up big-style - the 2002 Road King Classic handled like a complete beauty. While the earlier lovelies wallow around just needing a tad of the old 'oh she'll cope with it' confidence in the machine, the 2002 Road King is so competently crisp in comparison. You really can throw them around, even without blind faith. I was so impressed with the 2002 Classic's ability to feel secure even under the most demanding situations (as long as it was dry, naturally). Thrown around, on the chase, over, erm, interesting Pennine passes, the Classic was nothing short of very impressive. The standard twin front and single rear brakes were stunning and the chassis felt secure, stable and actually fairly flickable given its bulk.

Don't believe me? Well here's a point: the Glide framed babes are designed with footboards in mind and only very, very rarely have I ground out a Glide. Softail-framed Fat Boys, by comparison, also with 'boards, have been - ooh shall I say it - tarted up with footboards to make them look the part. THEY ground out footboards like it's going out of fashion. Still, Glides are the real thing aren't they … oops, sorry, controversy.

At the end of the day, the Road King Classic is still a very useful piece of kit to take in huge distances with - and, let's not beat around the bush - look bloody groovy doing it. In fact they pull in the stares just pottering around town: the whole headlamp nacelle, twin spots, huge low seat and panniers just says 'Class'. Indeed, if you purely want to buy a Harley as a babe magnet then hey, why not buy one that immediately says 'Harley Here!' than one than makes the poor dears think 'Wossafuxtha?' You know, just a thought.

I once described a Road King Classic as the fastest motorcycle I'd ever ridden. Sounds a bit bonkers until you actually sit back and think how 'speed' is worked out. I took speed to mean the actual amount of miles traveled within a certain time - miles per hour - mmm, yeah okay if you can only actually ride your bike for an hour or so - miles per day? Now you are cooking with pastry and if the distance you can cover in a day comfortably is anything of a guide then the Road King is a sodding rocket. Forget your Ducatis and FireBlades, hell, they can do a hundred miles, maybe two hundred and do those miles damn smartish, but the riders will be knackered. Road Kings will easily knock out four or five hundred in a day and you can still talk and walk afterwards.

As an aging, long-haired, absolutely gorgeous but slightly obese hunk of biking manhood, I still rate motorcycles in terms of practicality. I rarely drive motorcars and if pushed, would rather the bike I own was able to do whatever I asked of it - which means just about anything short of bringing a new fridge freezer home. So from my point of view the 2002 Road King Classic is virtually perfect as a bike. It's comfortable long distance, gets the looks, can carry stuff, handles incredibly well if you're not of a nervous disposition, and once it's yours, it can get much, much better at whatever you would like it to do.
What I don't need is the two tone paint, leather-look bags and the full on whitewall tyres you get with this Road King - I object to the extra money you have to spend … even though I would like the seat. Perhaps the bags too.

Whether you yourself would actually spend more money on buying the injection Classic or save a fairly serious wedge and buy the standard Road King is entirely up to your own personal tastes. Must you have leather-look saddlebag style panniers? Or are you happy with solid style plastics? Must you have full on white-wall tyres or is a simple white pin okay? Must you have the refinement of the almost perfect but less tuneable fuel injection or just a good old carb? Two tone paint or a 'plain' finish?

In the end my recommendation is to actually give the big old beast a ride out - Classic or Standard - and find out whether anything either Andy or I said actually makes any sense at all and make your decision after you realise the Road King isn't so scary after all. And believe me, it isn't. Go for it.

Specifications        

Make & Model	Harley Davidson FLHRCI Road King Classic
Engine:	Twin Cam 88. Air-cooled 45° V-twin.
Displacement:	1449cc (88ci)
Compression Ratio:	8.8:1
Bore & Stroke:	95.3 x 101.6
Torque:	109.5Nm @ 3300rpm
Fuel System:	Electronic Sequential Port Fuel Injection (ESPFI)
Exhaust System:	Crossover Duals
Oil Capacity:	3.3 litres
Fuel Capacity:	18.9 litres (no reserve)
Primary Drive:	Double-row (duplex) chain
Final Drive:	Kevlar belt
Overall Length:	2440mm
Seat Height:	683mm
Ground clearance:	130mm
Rake/Trail:	26 degrees / 156.3mm
Wheelbase:	1592mm
Dry Weight:	345kg
Lean Angles:	31° left / 33° right
Instruments:	Electronic speedo with odometer and resettable trip meter. Fuel gauge with low fuel light, cruise control with indicator lights, electrical power outlet, oil pressure light, engine diagnostic light, security system light.
Colour Options:	Vivid black, real teal pearl, white pearl, luxury rich red pearl. Two Tone schemes: Luxury blue and diamond ice, luxury rich red and black, suede green and black.
Price:	£13,495 single colour £13,795 two-tone 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)