Honda's CB600F Hornet is so smooth it makes every other bike seem clunky. Prepare to fall in love with the beast, writes Tom Robert
Ladies, and gentlemen, kindly take your seats for the Clutch of the Year award. Drum roll, please, while I tear open the envelope with gay abandon to reveal that this year's winner is . . . the Honda Hornet.
Now call me unpatriotic, but I've praised Triumph gearchanges enough in the past to say without a tremor of remorse that even the boys at Hinckley have to take their cloth caps off to what Honda has done here. Put it this way: all you have to do is think about squeezing the clutch, and you're already in the gear you want. It's the Force, without the force.
The only disadvantage of this is that if you hand over the Hornet to the owner of any other bike, as I did to my brother Trevor, who normally rides a very smooth used CBR800, after half an hour you've turned them into a deeply disillusioned soul. "That's amazing, that is," said Trevor, climbing off. "Makes me realise how clunky mine is. How much did you say these were again?"
However, more of Trevor, keys and clutches later. With the Hornet, the fun starts even when you walk up to it, for a common complaint of Hondas in the past has been that while they may well be superbly engineered, endlessly reliable and infinitely practical, they're just not as charismatic as, say, Triumphs, Harleys or Ducatis.
Well, not any longer: the new Hornet is Honda's first Italian-styled bike, brought into being by mastermind Naoshi Iizuka from the drawings of an Italian design studio.
And it's worked, with a sharp, aggressive look that had everyone from "How fast does it go, mister?" kids to grizzled bikers who wouldn't normally give anything east of Croydon the time of day coming up and casting admiring glances over it.
It's not just a pretty face, either, with the 599cc engine designed for the CBR600RR race-ready sports bike, tweaked down slightly for low-range flexibility and torque as well as top-end speed.
The result is performance that's relaxed enough for everything from commuting into town to bombing down the motorway, where at 70 the tacho sits at a fairly sedate 6,000 and the comfortable riding position means that even on a naked bike you could quite happily ride all day with only the occasional stop for a Magnum bar to keep you going.
However, push it above 7,000 and you discover that this is a Hornet with a sting in its tail, especially on winding A-roads where the stable and sure-footed handling comes into its own.
Not only is everything lighter on this latest version of the Hornet, but the weight has been brilliantly tucked in under the engine. The result is a light, agile bike that is an utter joy to fling in and out of corners, without feeling for a moment that it will catch you unawares.
It would be a perfect first bike: light, agile and forgiving enough to build confidence, but with the handling and power to keep you exploring its limits for years to come, I thought as Trevor emerged from the shop in Dungannon with two Magnum bars.
"Right," I said, as we polished them off, "time for home. I feel a curry, an old movie and a bottle of wine coming on. Where's the Hornet key?"
"Just in this pocket. That's funny, I could have sworn . . . said Trevor, searching in vain.
Half an hour later, a search of the shop, the car park and several passing grannies had failed to turn up the missing key. The manager was called, came in on her day off, and ran through the CCTV footage, all to no avail.
"You'll just have to leave the bike here and come back with a spare key," she said. "Trevor, are you sure you've checked all your pockets?" I said.
"Absolutely. Well, except for this litttle one on my sleeve where I . . . I . . ." he said, his voice draining away and his face turning a fetching shade of pink as he fished out the missing key.
So if you are going to buy a Hornet, and I highly recommend it, just don't lend the key to your brother.