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Compact
and Bijou News
of Buell's XB9R Firebolt broke on the same day as Harley-Davidson
announced the V-Rod, and as such it could almost have been expected
to have been missed in the crush to embrace the brave new world
as Harley saw it. Indeed, the world went mental for the VRSCA while
the Firebolt attracted the attention of the tech-heads, and bar-room
analysts.
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News of Buell's XB9R Firebolt broke on the same day as Harley-Davidson announced the V-Rod, and as such it could almost have been expected to have been missed in the crush to embrace the brave new world as Harley saw it. Indeed, the world went mental for the VRSCA while the Firebolt attracted the attention of the tech-heads, and bar-room analysts.
By the time the International Motorcycle and Scooter Show came round last November, we'd all seen so many images of the V-Rod that the sight of one in the metal only added scale to the image we knew, but it was that event where the covers were ceremonially removed from the new baby Buell and we cooed and ahhed over the new arrival.
Once the
V-Rod had broken cover, been tested and received universal acclaim, the
Firebolt was given the treatment. 
After
all, it was now seen that Harley were in the 21st Century, and if that
old firm could surprise us, what could Buell do, And so it was that the
spotlight turned on Buell - and not before time.
For those
who have been living in a cupboard for the best part of a year, the Firebolt
hosts an astonishing number of firsts for a production motorcycle: the
fuel is held in the frame, and the oil in the swing-arm - continuing Erik's
mass centralisation policy - while the front brake is a rim-mounted disk
rotor arrested by a single six pot calliper, which maintains Erik's low
unsprung weight ideals. The lower weight, and the general balance of the
machine has allowed the steering head to take on the geometry of a 250cc
GP bike, with a ridiculously steep rake - 21-degrees and two degrees less
than the Lightning - and minimal trail giving the bike the sharpest handling
of its class, and quite a few classes beneath it too. 
It
was all too radical … it couldn't work, argued the pundits, but they
were wrong, and were proven to be so on the race track launch - the track
was selected because of its combinations of bends and straights to demonstrate
the principle. It behaved impeccably and opened a few eyes. All of a sudden,
Buell was a force to be reckoned with in the Sports market.
Then, to my mind, they overstepped the mark, because then they announced that they were ceasing production of the tube frame models in the summer of 2002. Yes, now. What is a tube frame Buell? An X1 Lightning, an M2 Cyclone and the S3 Thunderbolt. A moment's silence please. The news was backed with the information that the Firebolt would be the first of a new range based on the new chassis, and the assurance that water-cooled engines had no place in existing development plans on the basis they were too expensive to produce, too heavy and there was no space to stick the extra bits like radiators and water pumps. Not all bad news then. Air-cooled V-twins, and a potential replacement for the Cyclone on the cards. And you had to admit, they are a good looking bike. Roll on the new dawn for Buell.
So
for nearly twelve months we've been itching to swing a leg over one.
Unfortunately, as we are not major players in the world of publishing, we had to sit on our hands while the pre-release models found their way into the hands of the world's press at an Italian racing circuit, before going back to the crusher at East Troy … sniff … and when the first sighting of the production models on British shores was noted, we added our names to the end of a long list of hopefuls keen to plant a backside in the saddle before a proper journalist from a real magazine plants the bike in a hedge doing the sort of heroics that they perceive makes them out as supermen in the eyes of their readers. Wankers! If only their fathers had been. Whether that is the reason why Buell's UK press bike is no longer available is mischievous speculation, but it gave me chance to get that off my chest. Less mischievous - at least on my part - we are given to understand that a single dealer has got through three bikes as roadtesters, but no-one's pointing the finger.
Ahh, of course! Dealers!
As it happens, my Cyclone was due to go into Centurion, in Chester, for its recall bits to be done. Ooh, the "R" word, Mavis: told you them odd-looking bikes were no good. Sorry, but recalls are good and it is a responsible manufacturer that holds their hands up and puts things right - doubly so in my case, as the bike was never destined for the UK in the first place and therefore slipped through the net, arriving at a grey importers from a Benelux dealer who didn't know what to do with it, and seven of its siblings.
The Cyclone was going to be out of commission for a good few hours, and I knew that Centurion had a demonstrator that had been through its first service, and was likely to be up for a bit of throttle twisting. A quick question - you don't get if you don't ask - and I was booked in for an extended spell with the object of my mechanical desires … well, one of them.
After a long week of "local" downpours, the day of reckoning dawned bright, and having once again reacquainted myself with the joys of the M2 on the camera-less route to old Eboracum, I found myself looking at a Firebolt ticking over, while Gareth went though the basics … errr, the switchgear is like the Cyclone. Enjoy yourself.
Looking around the bike while it warmed up, I noted nothing that I hadn't seen before: upside-downies, that brake, wonder if there's a pillion seat underneath that cowl? Here goes nothing.
It is amazing
how much changes between sitting on a bike on a showroom floor and saddling
it in full kit. Reach for the bars … reach down for the bars - Christ,
they're a long way away, and low. 
Ne'er
mind, it is a sports bike after all. Manoeuvre it into position, clutch
in, dab it into first … first … where's the gear lever? Where's
the footrest? Looking down I could see the left footrest silhouetted against
my boot, which was drawing circles in the air in the region it expected
to find its allotted space, only about three inches further down. Bloody
'ell. I picked my foot up to the correct height and was grateful that
my seasoned leather jeans had a flexibility of age inversely proportional
to that of my knees, and snicked the gearshift down into first. I'm given
to understand that the Buell testers can regularly get the hero blobs
down on the footrests in their current position, and also that the American
press managed to persuade the company to lower them by an inch to their
current location in the face of opposition by those testers: for my part,
I'm damn glad they succeeded doing so.
Pulling away brought three things to the fore: firstly your second foot will know where to go once the first foot is in the right place, secondly the gearing was better suited to real life than the especially tall UK gearing on my M2, and third, it needed to be because the bottom end power was less in evidence. Still, it felt like a Buell, in the same way that the V-Rod feels like a Harley: short-stroke motor or not.
Like the
V-Rod, the power characteristics have changed and, again like the V-Rod,
the engineers have delivered plenty of power, but higher up the rev range.
Like the V-Rod they have sought power though at the expense of torque.
Despite
losing 220cc over the Thunderstorm engine, the new plant still manages
to make 92hp compared to the Lightning's injected 95hp, or the Cyclone's
carburetted 93.5, albeit 1000rpm further up the rev range at 7,200rpm:
smack on the marked red line. Where it doesn't look so good is the 68ft-lbs
of torque at 5,500rpm, the same place where the Lightning is spilling
out 86ft-lbs, and the Cyclone, 83. But let's get it into perspective:
Buell are not competing against themselves, they are gunning for the v-twins
of Ducati, Cagiva, Honda and Suzuki - who are all in the same ball park
with their liquid cooled 4-valve per head, streetfighter class machines,
but at higher revs across the board on significantly oversquare motors.
Taking it
steady while I acclimatised to the ergonomics of the bike, and in deference
to the speed cameras marking the route out of the city, I regularly shuffled
to the front of traffic queues safe in the knowledge that I'd be away
before anything else alongside, until I drew alongside a Triumph triple
that I'd been shadowing at a distance since setting off. 
Still
uncertain, I tucked in behind him until the suburbs gave way to open country,
and a last set of red traffic lights saw us side by side. He'd not been
hanging around up to then, so I determined it was about time I found out
what the Firebolt was capable of. I gunned it off the line, pulling off
well in first, with no sign of the Triumph in my peripheral vision, but
not in the mirrors either; selecting second, and feeding in the power
with some degree of purpose, I was treated to an impromptu lofting of
the light front wheel: no fuss, no intention, just lifting gently under
the power. Still nothing alongside, but I just caught the vaguest hint
of a bike in the extreme left hand side of the mirror. Shifted up to third
and we were home and dry.
Wonder how fast I'm going?
Check the speedo.
What
the … ? Nine out of ten for funky, in the speedo department, but
I can only hope you get use to where the needle is pointing with familiarity
because I hadn't got a clue on first contact. It isn't enough the both
speedo and rev counter needles sweep through the full extent of their
arc when the ignition is switched on, although it is a nice party trick
to impress bystanders: it's an instrument and it needs to be read at a
glance. I'd had my reservations about the combination speedo/tacho unit
when I first saw the bike on the stand purely from an aesthetic view point
- and with an eye to the cost of replacement - but on the road the coloured
italic text on the reflective background is as hard to read as the S1/X1/M2
clocks are a masterpiece in clarity. I can see the point they were trying
to make, but I'd have sooner seen a digital display marking the new dawn
than the stylistic flourish that does the same job but poorly. I hope
they are better at night.
One thing
that was disconcerting on first association was the sound of an electrical
motor. It hadn't been evident when I first picked the bike up, and I hadn't
noticed it until I started laying down the available power. It didn't
fluctuate with engine speed, so I was pretty certain that my first concern
that I'd broken it was wrong. 
It
sounded like a radiator fan on an overheating water boiler, but I knew
there was no radiator, nor any water to run through it, so what could
it be. It was only when I actually stopped the engine and the motor carried
on that I realised it was definitely a fan, which was underlined when
I read the stickers on the side of the bodywork - another sign of the
attack on Japanese territory: it carries more stickers than a badly parked
car. It may be an air-cooled motor, but that doesn't mean you can't direct
cool air where it's required, subject to heat sensors around the motor.
It's not an especially quiet fan, and you can hear it over the standard
silencer but once you know it's there and account for it, it's no worry.
Carrying
on towards an appointment with Derek and his camera on the hallowed tarmac
of Tatton Mile - a favourite backdrop for the early BSH magazines - the
Triumph kept reappearing at red lights and disappearing at green before
he pulled off with a cursory nod and I settled back into a less competitive
riding style. The bike switched into the more mild-mannered role without
much complaint, but the high footrests and low bars made their presence
felt in the absence of the chase to occupy the mind. To counter that,
the roads were swapped from dull carriageways to slow lanes and faster
twisty A-roads. Pushing the bike through bends I've known for years, made
me realise how much taut the frame was: anything 
I
asked the bike to do, it did without complaint. I took a while getting
into it, but generally because I was scrubbing off too much speed going
into corners because I hadn't accounted for that wondrous front brake.
I've always rated the Cyclone's single disk and its 6-pot calliper, but
this was something else entirely. You feel as though you could stand the
bike on its nose without a problem, and there's no suggestion of fade
or overheating through normal road use. Unlike the earlier models, for
which a twin disk conversion is a simple bolt-on option, a second perimeter
disk and calliper would be prohibitively expensive, should anybody decide
to produce one, because it will demand a new wheel not only to provide
the mounting lugs for the disk rotor, but with a redesigned spoke pattern
in place of the stock wheel's bias towards the empty side of the forks.
In case
you were away on the day that the disk was being dribbled over by the
world's press, the advantages of the rim-mounted disk is that the braking
effort is applied 
directly
to the rim rather than through necessarily heavy spoked wheels that have
to transfer the braking action from the hub. That allows the use of a
lighter-built wheel, and a further reduction in the unsprung weight on
top of the weight saving - a not insignificant 5kg, or so - from dispensing
with a second disk and calliper. The lower the unsprung weight, the easier
it is for the suspension to keep the wheel in contact with the road surface,
as it hasn't got a lot of mass to fight against - and in the case of the
front end, the less centrifugal force you have to contend with when turning.
Okay, so it looks slightly out of balance, but it isn't: that's not a
compromise that Buell would accept - and I really can't see why anyone
would need more than the awesome stopping power of that offered.
The only real problem I had was a tendency for me to understeer, countering the bike's attempts to get me to realise the benefits of its tight geometry, but that was more the lack of time for me to really get to grips with the bike, coupled with spending the previous three weeks on a Road King Classic. I hold my hands up. My problem.
The bike
had been set up to be a firm ride - the 
fully
adjustable rear shock set to a firm position to account for the variety
of riders who pitch up for test rides - because apparently some heavier
riders had been complaining about its behaviour at high speeds: notably
three figure readouts. I had no such issues with the bike, but then perhaps
I was trying to see more where the differences lay between the Firebolt
and its predecessors, rather than squeezing the last ounce of power from
its motor to see how it compared with its Japanese and Italian rivals.
I
didn't have time or opportunity to mess with the suspension settings,
although when we do manage to secure a longer test period, I'll soften
it up for comfort as I found this combination to be wearing after twenty
miles or so.
The rear
shock no longer occupies its underslung position beneath the motor, but
has migrated to a more convention push-operation device running from the
top of the triangulated aluminium swing-arm to a mounting point half-way
up the multi-purpose aluminium frame casting, and is accessible for adjustment
beneath a rider's seat that is secured by a pair of allen bolts beneath
the rear corners of the pad. 
Not
the easiest access, but made possible on the road by the additional of
a rudimentary tool kit beneath the pillion rides seat / cowl - which is
secured by a remote lock release. Once the seat / cowl is unlocked, the
cowl can be removed from the seat with ease. Another surprise is the small
stowage space beneath the seat, which would house a disk lock or two,
or a packed lunch for a light eater. The forks are much more easily adjusted,
with nothing more than a screwdriver. In case you were wondering, the
strange wheel shaped thing below the swing-arm is a jockey wheel to maintain
the correct tension of the final drive belt, and it's party piece is that
it disconcertingly rotates in the opposte direction to the wheels.
What hasn't
been relocated is the trademark exhaust, which is still the colossal black-painted
device it ever was, but with a slash-cut exit situated down the barrel
itself rather than coming out of the end, due in no small part to that
being where the rear wheel is on this tiny-framed sportsbike. 
The
big difference is the way the designers have turned its presence into
a positive contribution to the overall line, and it ties in with the chin
fairing to look more like a bellypan than anything else, further assisted
by the lines of the header pipes which, create a single flowing integrated
line. It is to be hoped that aftermarket manufacturers will pick up on
that and design their cans to fit the same hole. I confess I like my silencer
there on my M2: it makes sense. Weight isn't an issue, cornering clearance
isn't an issue, and it keeps the back of the bike clear of clutter and
excessive plumbing, but best of all it means you can hear the bike, even
in legally-silenced form, and with a free-breathing can it's tantamount
to having your own soundtrack with you at all times. On that front, the
Firebolt doesn't disappoint, adding to the sensations of riding it, and
increasing the feedback that makes every Buell a real rider's bike.
A hundred and fifteen miles later, of mixed roads, and mixed fortunes regarding the weather, I pulled up again outside Centurion's tradesman's entrance on a filthy-dirty motorcycle. I'd hit a small patch of dropped gravel on a corner of a badly-finished B-road, and the front end had tried to tuck underneath me once when a corner tightened up on me just as the previously dry road went wet, but that was a consequence of my grabbing too much brake, too deep in the corner. Both incidents had been easily accounted for by an extremely neutral bike, and one with ridiculously few bad habits for something so outwardly radical, and that is a trick that Buell manage very well: it might be radical to the mainstream world, but the engineering principles are sensible and proven. Where Erik's team differs from conventional thinking is in the execution of the engineering principles, and previous models have been - or have been seen to be - a triumph of function over form to some extent. Not so the Firebolt though. The form is sublime. It's no Harley in style terms, but it couldn't afford to be to compete in its chosen market, but the attention to detail, the lines and the realisation of the bike as whole is up there with the best.
That hundred
and fifteen miles was just beyond the range of the main tank - by five
miles to be as precise as the trick trip meter that resets itself when
the low fuel light comes on so you can see how far you've been travelling
since you hit the virtual "reserve". 
That
figure is low by comparison to the range of a tube-frame Buell, but it
is beyond my range on the stock Firebolt's setup. A little judicious tweaking
of the shocks would have eased some of the soreness of butt, and less
time shooting moving shots would've eased the wrist's stress, but it was
more the footrest's positioning that saw me off. My extended six-foot-two
frame had too much in the inside leg department to be really comfortable,
and in the closing miles I was fighting cramp and a desire to get off
and straighten my legs again properly. I've long been an advocate that
the top of the thighs should be roughly parallel with the forearms on
this style of bike, and with the current footrest positioning, that isn't
the case. A couple of inches lower, and potentially an inch further back
would make all the difference - but then that may well be the plan for
additional models based round that frame: time will tell.
In the event,
the Firebolt comes across as a
less compromised bike than its predecessors: more precise, but less forgiving.
I can't see a softening of the suspension changing that as much as I'd
prefer, but then what is a company like Buell to do? In the X1 they produced
a sports motorcycle that was easy to live with, forgiving, with a power
delivery that suited the requirements of their parent company's existing
customer base … but they didn't want it. The sports riders didn't
want it either, they wanted something more pure - and they couldn't come
to terms with the notion of what was externally a Sportster engine powering
a bike that they'd be interested in. Harley, through Buell, want to attract
a larger audience into the family - and that is what the Firebolt is doing
in the UK - but at what cost. The pure Firebolt can be seen as a half-way
house between the Jap performance bikes and the Buells of old, but leaning
more towards the Japanese sector. 
It
remains to be seen whether they will accept it in a way that a lot of
them haven't to date.
As I climbed aboard the rejuventated Cyclone I paused to consider the likelihood of them producing a machine as flexible as the M2 in the aluminium chassis - or even whether they'd consider it because American sales of all tube frame models were not impressive. I hope so, although I have reservations as to how they'll achieve it. On the bright side, if anyone can pull that particular rabbit out of the hat, Buell can.
And so home
again, on a previous generation model: bigger, more comfortable and with
my feet feeling as though they were hovering just above the ground. 
The
previously faultless frame feeling a little less precise, but making better
progress due to greater familiarity; the brakes just that little bit less
sharp; and the gearing taking some getting used to before remembering
to hit third and stay there, using the greater torque, lower down the
rev range to power past any moving obstacle.
Would I
trade? No. Not the Cyclone for the Firebolt. I wouldn't even consider
it. It's too uncompromising and not flexible enough … but they've
just announced the XB9S Lightning: a streetfighter Firebolt with a modified
riding position courtesy of higher bars and a forward seating position,
and footrests almost an inch lower. Should be exciting. Watch this space.
Specifications
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Engine: |
OHV air-cooled 45-degree V-Twin |
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Displacement: |
984cc |
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Compression Ratio: |
10:1 |
|
Bore & Stroke: |
88.9 x 79.375mm |
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Torque: |
68ft.lbs @ 5500rpm (92Nm @ 5500) |
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Power: |
92hp @ 6500rpm |
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Fuel System: |
Dynamic Digital Fuel Injection (DDFI) with Ram Air intake |
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Exhaust System: |
Free-breathing 2-into-1 collector |
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Fuel Capacity: |
3.7 US Gal. / 14L |
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Primary Drive: |
Triple row (triplex) chain |
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Final Drive: |
Kevlar belt |
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Frame: |
Aluminium frame with Uniplanar powertrain vibration isolation system containing fuel cell.Aluminium arc swing containing oil. |
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Suspension:
Front: |
Showa
upside-down fork adjustable for preload, compression and rebound
damping |
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Wheels:
Front: |
MT
3.50 x 17 DOT 5-spoke1924mm |
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Tyres:
Front: |
Dunlop
D 207 FY Sportmax 120/70 ZR17 |
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Brakes:
Front: |
375mm
ZTL (Zero Torsion Load) floating disk, 6-piston calliper |
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Overall Length: |
1924mm |
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Seat Height: |
30.5 in./ 775mm |
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Ground clearance: |
5 in./ 127mm |
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Rake/Trail: |
21 degree / 84mm |
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Wheelbase: |
52 in./ 1320mm |
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Dry Weight: |
385lbs (175kg) |
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Instruments: |
Electronic speedometer and tacho with LED odometer and multi-function tripmeter. Built-in LED indicator lamps for low oil pressure, high beam, turn signals, and neutral. |
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Colour Options: |
Arctic
white with blue graphics |
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Price: |
£7,345 |
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Test bike kindly supplied by: |
Centurion
Harley-Davidson Tel:
01244 304650 info@centurion-hdx.co.uk |