Road test of Buell1125 R 2010 Fear in ambush

it's almost intimidating, disconcerting, with a touch of bitterness when you press the starter button on this 1125 R vintage 2010. Maybe because it's one of the last Buells, one of the last eccentric strokes of the turbulent Erik... We hesitate... We get off the machine and ride around again, just to understand why we're thinking "What a shame Harley is saying STOP to the Buell adventure".

up close and personal, the 1125 R is like no other. Despite the fact that it has 2 wheels, an engine, a chassis, a few bits of plastic and everything else needed to make a bike, the general impression is that East Troy doesn't build motorcycles the same way. As the technical solutions have already been largely covered in the contact sheet (huge perimeter brake disc, tank frame, 146 hp twin), it's time to get straight to the heart of the matter. Our little tour of discovery around the machine hasn't taken away the question mark that lingers in our intuition. And the start-up will add several more. Djjzziijii.... Bram blam bram pram blam pafm!!!! Damn! What the hell is that?!? It's twin, but holy cow, there's something weird going on in the cylinders, isn't there?
This Buell's twin-cylinder is a state-of-the-art engine, a rotax released in 2008. Except it doesn't sound Austrian or American. At idle and low revs, it burbles like a tractor with a bad temper - a far cry from the dry velvetiness of a Japanese twin or the provocative glee of an Italian boiler. On-board vibration is much more restrained than on the Milwaukee twin-powered XB-Rs, but it still moves with conviction. You can feel that it's alive and kicking in there, that the pistons haven't woken up properly and that it's going to growl in the crankcases. The Helicon is no slouch.

the 1125 R has ventured into the paddocks as a good sports bike. Not to disappoint, we took it out on the track. One lap to discover the beauty in its own juice, a series to unleash its manners. The driving position is sporty, normal, without exaggeration. We'd even appreciate a little more wrist support. The feel of the controls is good, although we were expecting something more rustic, given the old-fashioned look of the controls. Settled in, warmed up, it's time to shake up the American sports car. Big gas, big thrust, big adaptation. The muscular carburetor delivers its load with a vengeance, but you can't really feel the 150 grunt. However, the tachometer quickly becomes alarmed. But limited extension forces you to change gears early, and strong acceleration isn't all that breathtaking in terms of feel. A little more spice on this steak would give it some taste.
Tight right, almost a half-turn, fillet of throttle, acceleration - Gnianininnnn... Well, we're going to press a little harder on the footrest and force the gesture to bring the wheel back into the trajectory. To keep the traj', the Buell doesn't give in easily. Coming out of corners, you almost get the impression that the chassis wants to follow your gaze, but that the engine wants to go the other way. Not exactly a Japanese racer. But let's not throw stones at it - a certain Bruno Destoop does some violent time-trialing with this machine.

evening arrives slowly. Don't panic, night won't be upon us for several hours yet, and the adrenalin hasn't completely left the bloodstream. When it's time to leave, that Buell 1125 R is still staring at me. It seems to be saying to me, teasing me, provoking me: "Hey, I'm not who you think I am! Come back and play with me, you haven't seen everything...". What's this bitch up to?
I put the helmet back on, go back to caressing the lady's back and handles, and before you know it, you're in the nightmare terrain of a sportswoman: the city. You don't stay there long, just long enough to realize that the engine's flexibility is a far cry from that of a VTR or TLS from the good old days. When it comes to slow-speed evolutions, the 1125 R seems destined for the gruff Wisconsin crowd. And then there's that funny front-end feel, as if the bike were playing around the steering column. Luckily, the horizon opens up, the German national highway (there's no question of riding hard in France, so let's go elsewhere) clears its terrain and heralds a big series of twisting kilometers with big curves and lead-blasting. I open...... Ouh Vin DIEEEUUUUUUUUUU!!!! WHAT THE HELL !!!!!!

incredible! Buell has completely changed her tune. I understand everything: it felt locked in on the circuit. Now that it's out on the open road, the beast lets loose and throws down the gauntlet. The engine, which didn't seem to be pushing hard enough before, has become a monster of sensations. It pulls happily up to 6,000 rpm, then enters a second phase, full of resonance, vibration and grunt. The speed on the odometer is already interesting, but on the handlebars, it feels like you're going 50 miles faster. As we approach 8,000 rpm, a series of questions are already rattling around in our brains. No need to think, neither the rider nor the bike are there for that. The right hand wiggles, hesitates for a quarter of a half-second, then screws it on hard. The Helicon moulder has been waiting for this and attacks the last third of its score. With a horrendous effort, the twin vibrates like an aircraft engine, seems to lose all its embellishment, and throws its cylinder head covers into your belly. The thrust is frightening, while the engine sounds like it's about to explode. It's got a real punch and a real temperament - you'd think it was going to pop out of the frame and slap the rider in the face. But it's the brakes that do the slapping. I grab the right-hand lever without forcing it and find my head wedged between the speedo and the spider. What a slap! The 375 mm ZTL perimeter disc and the 8 pistons of the single caliper are staggeringly powerful and violent. You can't have fun braking hard with it in the rain.

i squeeze the St-Christophe cross very hard, then change gears. The gearbox is no longer the catastrophic control of the XBRs, but we're still not up to Japanese standards. The pace is brisk, the anxiety on the verge of inviting itself on board, the scenery flies by; I must be at least 250 km/h... A furtive glance at the speedometer stuns me: 180. Holy cow! This two-wheeled space hound is far more generous with emotion than most of its rivals. It's impossible to feel such life and character on a modern hypersport. In terms of efficiency, the world in which the Buell evolves is not the same either. The big bend coming up could be negotiated on an R1 or a GSX-R with a knock without the slightest chassis movement. With the 1125 R, grip the handlebars with both hands. It waddles, it moves, it oscillates... it wants to play while you try to keep a clean trajectory. I stay in gear, push the twin to 10,000 rpm to enjoy the "vibrations - barking - chassis that likes to move it" cocktail, and realize that I'm in for a real treat with this demonic machine. Minets and velvets won't be welcome on this American sports car.

i've done 40 km and I'm swimming. Driven like a drum, the 1125 R won't encourage you to do hundreds of kilometers. A few more miles to validate the test and realize that if Buell makes characterful motorcycles, they must not use them on a daily basis. The non-hinged fuel filler cap is simply scandalous. Range is frankly average. Don't try to find the rear brake pedal without your 6th toe touching the frame. On the other hand, the protection is not ridiculous and life on board is less Spartan than imagined.
As I hand over the keys, I realize that this Buell only shows its true face if you play with what it likes. Which just goes to show that certain spicy foods can change their taste depending on the dish they're served in.

M.B - Manufacturer's photos