It took me 20 minutes longer than usual to get to work, even though the traffic was lighter than usual. The reason: I was riding a Harley-Davidson FLHTCUI Ultra Classic Electra Glide.
Not because it’s slow it’ll do an honest 160km/h if you give it some space but because it’s so big. It’s nearly as long as its name and so wide that I couldn’t get between the cars, which was why I was late for work.
It’s so big even Milwaukee’s monumental 1449cc V-twin engine doesn’t look out of place for once and it has more storage space than some compact cars I’ve reviewed.
So I did the obvious thing and took it out on the open road to find out just what the Motor Company’s flagship is good for.
In a word, comfort.
The Ultra Classic’s aforementioned 1.5-litre engine, fuel-injected and rubber-mounted for smooth running, kicks out a leisurely 46kW at 5300rpm but that’s backed up by 117Nm of Milwaukee grunt at 3500rpm.
Take it up to the power peak through the gears and this 360kg monster will accelerate hard enough to surprise you or change gears at one-eight (no, Cyril, I’m not kidding) and in about 400m you’ll find yourself cruising at 100km/h on just a whiff of throttle.
The clutch is Milwaukee’s updated “light-pull” unit; you’ll understand that “light” is a relative term at Harley-Davidson but its operation is beautifully smooth and its take-up faultlessly progressive.
The touring department at Juneau Avenue hasn’t yet heard about the new-for-2006 six-speed gearbox so the ‘Glide comes with the 2000-spec five-speeder, which in this application is as positive and as vocal – as ever.
The clunk as it goes into the next gear can be heard two blocks away, even over the open pipes fitted to the test bike, and can be clearly felt through the seat, rubber-mounted engine or no.
It will, however, give you perfect clutchless upshifts if you have more than 3000rpm on the clock; as hefty as its individual components may be it works well.
Final drive is by toothed belt, as with all Harleys, obviating the need for a cush drive and eliminating most driveline snatch. Other than that agricultural gearshift, the drive train is unobtrusive and easy to live with.
The chassis has more in common with the 1960s than with modern motorcycle practice but it’s built like a bridge to carry all that weight and holds everything neatly in line, while the fully shrouded forks and twin rear shocks are remotely air-adjustable for preload.
The bike’s handling is more agile than you’d expect, mostly thanks to wide handlebars and a surprisingly steep steering head angle, but you’re always conscious that with rider and pillion aboard the Ultra Classic weighs well over half a ton.
It’s possible to induce a slight wallowing on long sweeping bends but generally the big ‘Glide is well behaved on the road, although rough surfaces can be a bit of a trial due to the very short-travel suspension.
Steering input
The enormous fairing is mounted on the front forks so every gust of side wind is translated directly into steering input; the bike feels like it’s weaving all over the road whereas in fact it’s only moving a few millimetres at a time.
Braking chores are handled by two 292mm discs in front and a similar platter on the rear wheel, all clamped by Milwaukee’s now standard four-piston callipers.
The limiting factor is not the brakes in this case but the front tyre, which can be felt squirming under hard braking not surprising given the bike’s weight and better results can be achieved by using the rather wooden rear brake as well when brisk shedding of forward momentum is required.
The rider’s seat is a deeply dished, luxuriously padded “ploughshare” saddle, beautifully upholstered in some special vinyl that feels more like leather than leather does.
It offers little room for moving around, however, and after a couple of hours becomes uncomfortable enough to enforce a stop, even before the 18.9-litre fuel tank goes onto reserve.
Mobile armchair
The passenger seat, on the other hand, has a backrest, armrests, built-in speakers and controls for the intercom and sound system; it’s practically a mobile armchair and a very pleasant place to loll away a quiet afternoon while the countryside gently passes by.
American bikemakers are well aware that Hell hath no fury like a woman with a sore butt and life on the open road is much more pleasant when Herself is cosseted in comfort.
Directly ahead of the rider is the huge “batwing” fairing (that’s what Harley calls it) housing six gauges including an ambient temperature gauge 25 switches and a sophisticated, MP3-compatible Harman Kardon radio/CD sound system with four speakers, two in the fairing and two in the rear seat armrests.
At first it feels a little strange because the fairing much taller than usual and you can’t see as much of the road ahead as you’d expect, but you soon get used to seeing the whole fascia at a glance and being able to reach all the switches easily in fact it’s more like the cockpit of a light aircraft than a bike or car, with the fascia vertically mounted right in the rider’s eyeline.
The volume control is sensitive to ambient noise so the faster you go the louder it gets, but the four speakers are focused within the still air behind the screen and the sound system is not as antisocial as it may sound from the rider’s point of view.
Diagnostic tool
It also doubles as a diagnostic tool; if your Ultra suffers an electrical or electronic gremlin along the road, it will give you an error code. All you do is phone your dealer and he will tell you which buttons to push in what order to bypass the problem and enable you to get to home.
As far-fetched as that sounds, I’ve been assured that it actually works but I’m glad I didn’t have to try it.
I set the cruise control to an even 100km/h with the engine revving almost exactly 3000rpm, providing a hard-edged backbeat to Elvis Presley’s “Jailhouse Rock”, and consciously relaxed into a Milwaukee state of mind, where enjoying the journey is more important than reaching a set destination and where the open road is as much a concept as a place.