Buell RS1200: American hot rod
(Page 2 of 4)
May/June 2006
By Roland Brown
But with the arrival of the RS1200, almost all was revealed: the lattice-style steel frame with its unique, Buell-designed rubber-mounting system; the horizontal rear shock beneath the engine; and the stubby Supertrapp muffler running alongside the shock. Even the Buell-designed front wheel and the man’s own four-pot brake calipers, largely hidden by the RR’s wind-cheating front fender, were on show to the world.
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Yet the character of the bike had not been lost by the changes. The basic shape of the half-fairing, tank and seat unit remained, the various parts running smoothly into each other and held together by a succession of cross-headed screws. Finish was good, with neat kneepads in place on the fairing. The RS’s riding position was a little more upright than the RR’s, and far more flexible. Higher clip-on bars and new footpegs gave a roomier ride than the head-down racer, which had often been criticized for not quite fitting anyone just right.
On the road today
Crucially, the brute has an unmistakably Harley feel when I fire it up. Turn the ignition on with the key in the right of the fairing, followed by a dab of choke with the lever on the opposite side, then press the starter button and the big engine shakes lazily to life with a hollow “thrapp” from the Supertrapp. At low speeds the engine jumps around a bit on its mounts, but as the revs rise it smoothes magically like no other Sportster lump alive. There is torque from rock bottom: Given a touch of throttle, the Buell gallops away, its engine feeling amazingly sweet.
The RS1200 is a very short bike, but despite a lowish seat (29.5in), it feels quite tall and less low-slung than a typical Harley. It is quite maneuverable at low speeds, though, flicking through traffic with ease, the only complaints coming from my thumbs: the stock H-D switchgear means the indicators need to be held on at all times to make them work, and the less-than-generous steering lock traps my pinkies against the tank on either side.
Who cares, though, when the bike chuffs and coughs and rumbles along as evocatively as this one, yet still idles at a rock-steady 1,000rpm? The powerplant is equally impressive at higher speeds, where the curvy screen keeps the wind off my body, if not my head. (You’d have to squint through the black Perspex screen to avoid the wind completely.) On the open road the long-legged lump thrusts the bike forward with incredible smoothness, snicking easily up and down the four-speed gearbox and pulling crisply from 1,500rpm without the slightest hint of a power step.
The Buell came with a standard Sportster engine, and even the bigger version of the basic late-Eighties pushrod twin was by no means a horsepower hero. With only about 70hp to call on despite a slight gain from the two-into-one pipe (tuneable by adding or removing baffle plates in its end), the racy-looking Buell starts running out of breath at much over 100mph, on the way to a top speed of about 120mph.