NIPS ‘N’ TUCKS — II
Here is the second part of design guru Glynn Kerr’s article about design transformations on realworld production bikes
THE SECOND part of this article was originally planned to follow seamlessly after the first, but the arrival of the Massimo T12 demanded more urgent attention for last month’s column. Now we return as promised, if somewhat tardy, with a couple of examples that demonstrate real-world projects on which I’ve been commissioned to take on models already in production, and take them to a higher level.
Part I of this article combined the wonders of Photoshop with many hours of patience, and a lifetime’s understanding of the dos and don’ts of the business. Even so, it was all just trickery to the eye. Now it’s time to man-up, and show some real examples that have been unleashed on an unsuspecting public. Yes, these were my fault. Sue me.
The exact same methodology from the Photoshop examples was used to elevate yesterday’s models into freshly refurbished members of the latest range. Depending on the amount of change, and the level of investment in the update, fresh sketches would be made where the changes were significant, or original photos or CAD drawings would be altered on Photoshop to finetune the smaller details. Often, the subjects were dated and slow-selling models that needed refreshing, but sometimes the manufacturers were smart enough to plan upgrades of hotselling bikes to keep the market on the boil.
The best example of the latter is the Bajaj Pulsar, sold in India where it is manufactured, as well as in numerous export markets. Developed in its original form by the Japanese consultancy, Tokyo R&D, I was tasked with reworking the design to take it upmarket for 2003. As a ‘stylist’, I was expected to come up with some new shapes for the plastic. But before attacking the bodywork, some basic proportions needed to be addressed.
The 18-inch wheels, typical to the Indian market at the time, seemed flimsy and oversized, and the rear needed to be separated further from the main mass of the bike. So the swingarm was extended, first by 55 millimetres (2.2 inches), and later by 85 mm (3.35 in), while the forks were angled steeper, maintaining the manoeuvrability despite increasing the wheelbase. Essentially, the centre of the bike moved forwards between the wheel centres.
Most importantly, the rims were reduced from 18-inch to 17-inch, making them look proportionally chunkier, although persuading top management to deviate from the domestic norm took some effort. The result was that it now looked like a real motorcycle, the rear wheel having a larger clearance from the central mass, which gave the bike a more sporty stance. Initially, the bodywork remained unchanged, although a restyle following on the next update, including a halffairing for the flagship version. The modifications were employed gradually, starting with the mechanical changes.
A more recent example is the UM Renegade, launched in its preproduction second-generation form at the 2015 Milan EICMA. UM Global is a US-based corporation with their headquarters in Miami, although production is entirely in mainland China. Many base engines and chassis are also of Chinese origin, although the bikes themselves are built to US designs — of late, by yours truly. UM entered the US market in the previous decade with re-badged Hyosung (S&T Motors) 250- and 650-cc V-twins, but closed its doors here in 2010 after a dispute with Hyosung US which was marketing identical models under its own name. The company has since focused on smaller capacity models, which have gained popularity in Latin America and other developing markets.
The Renegade was an entirely different story from the Pulsar. Despite a new engine with water-cooling, everything stayed pretty much where it was, the emphasis being on a general tidying-up and better integration of the various elements. As with the Enfield Thunderbird, the first thing I was itching to do was remove the gap between the rear tyre and mudguard, along with the big hole above the exhaust. That helped merge the visual mass of the rear wheel with the engine/ frame unit, consolidating the cruiser look. After that, it was simply a matter of getting the lines to flow in the same direction. Well, most of them. The new engine was taken from a different context, and I had no control over the choice or the predominant lines, which did not favour the horizontal emphasis of a cruiser application. But this is part of the task of being a motorcycle designer — to create a harmony between multiple visible components, many of which are a given.
Twin exhausts from a single cylinder always seem pretentious, whether they belong to Italian bikes of the 1960s and ’70s (Guzzi’s Nuovo Falcone included) or the original Renegade Commando. So that was dropped in favour of a beefier, single unit. The rear of the bike was made to look more solid, and the lines given a more horizontal emphasis. Headlamp pushed back in between the forks, the tail-light more integral with the rear mudguard, and we’re good to go. The new Renegade also comes in more classic variations for those who like their chrome.
For the final example, we leave cold reality and return to Photoshop for another bike that’s had me itching to get the crayons out since it was launched — the Motus. This is a bold and
For the final example, we leave cold reality and return to Photoshop for another bike that’s had me itching to get the crayons out since it was launched — the Motus
brave project, handled professionally despite a limited budget, and which deserves to succeed. Primarily attacking the sports-touring sector rather than the more tempting and exotic supersports market was a smart move. Competing with the big boys as a start-up is no easy task, so keeping out of the performance stats and going for all-rounder appeal makes a lot of sense.
The engine is intriguing, being essentially a Honda ST1300-like V4 layout, but angled down towards the front, and with chain final drive rather than the more logical shaft. That would have seemed more appropriate for the engine layout and the bike’s touring slant. No doubt, a more sporty character and weight-saving was high on the priority list, although at 230 kg dry, the Motus is no lightweight.
My biggest gripe, with all due respect to Design VP Brian Case, is that the bike lacks visual excitement. The aesthetics are a little bland and frumpy, looking a bit like a dated BMW design that didn’t pass sign-off for production (although looking at some of the earlier ones that did, maybe that’s not altogether a bad thing).
So let’s go with what we’re given, and celebrate it. And here that means the unique engine, which deserves more than a coat of red paint on the heads to make it stand out. The detailing reminds me of my old Austin Healey’s engine, and that’s certainly not a compliment. So let’s raise the bar on that element, and emphasise it as the focus of the whole design. The exhausts can support that, too, by being more curvaceous and muscular. The proportions are fine, but the bodywork needs to look a tad tighter and more dynamic — without disappearing into the super-complex extremes of the latest Japanese offerings. This is a bike aimed at more serious and mature owners, so fashion should take second place to competency and understated authority. Think AMG Mercedes, and you’re on the right track.
Pictured here is my take on the Motus. The great thing with this exercise is that I don’t have to answer to the cost guys, the production blokes or the marketing chaps, who, I’m sure, would all have a different slant on the whole thing. I’ll be happy to hear your comments, good or bad. Or if you fancy yourself as a budding designer, you could always send in your own Photoshop interpretation of these bikes. All you need is a computer, and a lot of patience.