![]() Hampering the fun further, the 4,850 rpm redline chaperones the revs with a fuel shutoff as lenient as a Catholic schoolmarm, making it tough to get any real momentum going around town. Third through sixth have longer legs, but those first two gears are ridiculously short. ![]() Then, half a breath later, the engine coughed as it bounced off the rev limiter. Twisting the throttle with some gusto, I ripped through first gear pretty quick and kicked it up into second. It’s not easy to get bored on the Eluder. Once underway, the mass is mostly forgotten, as the smoothness of the engine and precision of the throttle help the big bagger get rolling with ease.īy the time I reached the on-ramp, I was starting to dig the comfort of the generous floorboards and the stereo pumping out some hard rock tunes. I’ll admit, it was a bit intimidating at first, hauling it up off the side stand and powering around the parking lot. The Eluder, at 397 kg (damn near 900 lbs!) weighs almost exactly what the other two bikes parked in my garage do, combined. It shouldn’t be surprising that 1,854 cc of air-cooled engine would generate some warmth, especially crawling through traffic on a sizzling summer afternoon, but this seemed excessive. Imagine sitting atop the world’s cushiest woodstove and you’d get the idea. The big V-Twin throws a hell of a lot of heat back at its rider, especially on the left leg. That’s a whole lot of bike for the highway. It’s heated too, a standard feature on the Eluder, which I double-checked wasn’t set to Scorch. The saddle is about as wide as a sofa compared to most bikes I ride, and twice as comfortable as any piece of furniture in my home. The massive Yamaha bagger I was riding had otherwise, up to that point, been very accommodating. ![]() Toronto’s notorious highway was in fine congested form as I slogged across the city after picking up the Star Eluder from Yamaha’s HQ.Īt that moment, on a stiflingly humid, 30-degree day, I was fearing my left pant leg was about to ignite. It’s strange the things that go through your head when stuck in a traffic quagmire on the 401. ![]()
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