Road test of Harley-Davidson1131 V-ROD VRSCA 2002 Incredible

Our tester's opinion on the 1131 V-ROD VRSCA from 2002

The speedometer needle doesn't exceed 110 km/h. Cruising with peace of mind, I'm surprised by my serenity on a stretch of road where the 150 with my Blackbird usually seems like a sepulchral bore. Questions and doubts have given way to a certainty: there's pleasure to be had in bucolic riding; and, brace yourself, I'm on a HARLEY-DAVIDSON. An ordinary citizen, whose heart only vibrates at 10,000 rpm and whose needles are stuck on the right, I'm discovering a whole new world. Flashback to a dramatic event...

a simple e-mail from H-D France, frankly advertising, and I was hooked. A phone call, an appointment and here I am on a Tuesday at 3 p.m. in front of a gleaming 1130 VRSCA V-ROD. Let's translate all that. This bike is a revolution for the Milwaukee-based manufacturer. In fact, that's the name of the engine. It's a V-twin (like all Harleys), but with 4 valves per cylinder, water-cooled and 115 horsepower. At 1130 cm3, we're already expecting a lot of potential. But don't try to understand the VRSCA name... In the U.S.A., the models bear very specific monograms: FLHT, FXDXT, XL, FLHCUI... Help!
The V-Rod is what's known as a power cruiser: a custom with a fiery temperament. But above all, it's a machine that can't leave you unmoved. Long, low and muscular, the machine makes its presence felt, and never misses an opportunity to flatter the eye - passers-by are quick to admire it. Full wheels, huge engine, gleaming chrome and superb faux-aluminium tank - this is class. Even a non-enthusiast can't help but admire it.
On to the essentials. Double-beep to deactivate the alarm (standard), contact under the saddle, start... gni gni gni... BBrraalllaapppp! Wow, that's manly! We straddle the beast, climb down onto the saddle and, watch out. Sitting at ground level with 300 kgs of weight and handlebars twice as wide as my sports bike, surprise and apprehension merge into one, and you have to be extra careful. Even the seat is disconcerting: arms stretched out, loins braced on a saddle that's a little firm but comfortable on the whole, feet far forward, you feel like you're in a rocking chair, when it's rocked all the way back. The first 500 meters are all about finding the right footrest position. A real rookie!
Premiere. Kloncg! The next few minutes are full of twists and turns. Exhilarated by growing optimism, I discover the famous Harley vibrations. It's not unpleasant, especially with the sound that goes perfectly with a bowlful of food. The engine is alive and kicking. Supple, it starts up again without any problems at around 2000 rpm. Yet there's always the urge to go below that to feel the effort of the pistons. Inconceivable on a Japanese model, it's almost a pleasure to feel it banging away down there, sharing its grunt and toil. Although the fuel injection is present (you can hear it), the idle seems unstable - which only adds to the charm of the engine. First red light, gag! My foot lands naturally on the tarmac, but the prominent pots warmly remind me of their presence by burning my right calf. Outch...

"Looking for me?" All right, but before we go to war, let's get to know her. Even the controls surprise me. One for each blinker, thick switches like you'd see on a machine tool. Strong stuff. Especially that engine, with its surprising character. I've been driving around for a quarter of an hour, happily and delightfully (I still haven't figured out how), lulled by the big twin. But now, after 2 long straights, it's really dragging too much. A generous throttle and... bbbrrroolllllaaooAAAAAOOOPPPBBBAAAPPPPPP!!!!!! What the hell is going on?!? In the cylinders, it happens like in Fast & Furious, the moment you open the NOS. The engine catches its breath, then feels like everything just exploded in there. Crankcase, valves, camshafts - you expect the whole thing to fly right over your head. Before you know it, the bike's pushing like a dragster. Nothing to do with the power of a Japanese sports bike. No, it's like a huge muscle producing a titanic effort. A Hulk pushing a locomotive at you. What a kick!
The gears are seamless, and the gearbox.... is weird: it feels like you're actuating the selector forks directly, but they're 3kg forks. gAZ! Arms lengthen, needles loosen, heart races. At 160, we're in combat. Without the chinstrap, the helmet would be long gone. You take it all in your stride, and the front end (to which you cling like a slave) becomes light. 180. the handlebars start to rattle. 200. You hold on to the handlebars with the energy of despair. it's still pushing, even though the wheel has almost left the ground. At 220, the arms tense up, the head snaps off and the bike is as stable as a jet ski. I give up.

a good slam on the brakes to put my head back on my neck and gauge the power of the discs. Not bad at all for the rear and very good for the front. A short ride into the mountains to spot the squirrels is in order. Resuming a leisurely pace, I realize once again how good it feels to ride without winding. There are trees and grass by the roadside - I've never been so careful. Traffic circle, re-gag! Coming out of the roundabout, I lean over and what was bound to happen happens: it rubs... but in this case, it's my heel that's just touched. sounds promising.
Laces and shivers follow one another with the blessing of my smile. The V-rod doesn't have the liveliness of an R6 (as you'd expect), but it swings easily. It seems to follow your body's movements. The truckish wheelbase and the frankly fair ground clearance limit your ardor. it rubs in every bend, and it's best not to be too optimistic when entering hairpins. Fortunately, there's no need to get carried away to enjoy the ride. The big muscle of the mill at the end of the curve is more than enough. The road down is sometimes bumpy. The suspension is certainly supple and comfortable enough, but a little dry over the small bumps.

soon the end of an afternoon of sensations. One last little pleasure... A young girl comes up to me on the phone, and (very intelligent of a biker ;-) gives a big burst of throttle to say hello. BBRRRROOOUUULLLMMMMM! What a noise! I apologize to the lady who has jumped 3m.
Arrived at the dealership. 5 min to manage to manoeuvre this... i've got no kidneys, no arms, and my legs are full of memories: the pots on the right, the air filter on the left. No regrets... Now I'm off to physio.

P.S.: Climbing back on my CBR 1100 XX, I felt like I was riding a Ducati 900 SS...