JOHNNY MAC SUZUKI HAYABUSA
With still no sign of any exhausts for my Hayabusa, I wasn’t too upset, as I was going to swap it for Charlie’s Triumph Speed Triple RS for a couple of weeks anyway. I needed his longtermer for the Supernaked bike test elsewhere in this issue, so we arranged to meet halfway between where he lives and my place, which involved a 150(ish)-mile plod on the motorway network to a grubby service station. I have come to dread doing even mildly long trips on the Hayabusa because I just can’t ignore that as brilliant as the bike is at eating miles, its riding position – specifically the distance between footpegs and seat – makes such a trip a test of physical endurance and how much pain I can stand. Granted, I’ve got longer-than-average legs and a hip joint that is in such a state that it is soon to be replaced, but it’s saying something when, by mile 100, the cramped position of my legs is frankly making me wish I was on any bike other than the Hayabusa, and looking forward to my return plod on the motorway on the Triumph more than I should – considering motorway miles and long-distance cruising aren’t even part of the Speed Triple’s design brief.
In response to my bleatings, Charlie said: “Why don’t you try one of those ComfortAir cushions?” as we enjoyed an overpriced pastie in the glamourous surroundings of the service station’s car park and the feeling returned to my legs. I’ll be honest – the thought hadn’t entered my mind for the simple fact that those things are used by people whose demographic, let’s just say, doesn’t match mine. However, Charlie had asked a valid question, and his point that such a cushion would add about an inch of height to the seat and open the gap between the seat and footpegs had some logic to it. It got me thinking that maybe in the name of research I could dip my toe into the murky world of… touring accessories.
A couple of weeks later and I was reunited with my Hayabusa and ready to fit a ComfortAir seat cushion – specifically the ‘adventure/sport’ shaped one. Seat off, outer cover fitted using the adjustable straps, bladder inflated with a lung full of air and then inserted into the outer cover, and that’s it... ready to go and test the theory.
But where? With the sun shining and not much of the summer left, a 150-mile round trip to the bright lights of Skegness for an ice cream on the beach seemed like a good idea to test my lookalike whoopie cushion.
What a difference an inch makes! The Hayabusa is transformed by the extra seat height the cushion gives, and everything is easier, especially peeling miles off. Granted, a ride to Skeggy and back isn’t exactly a massive day in the saddle, but I’ve already spent enough time with the Hayabusa to know that just the thought of doing it without the cushion is enough to get my legs cramping. This is a breakthrough in terms of knowing what sort of extra
height I’m looking for.
However, as transformational as the cushion is in terms of comfort levels and easing pressure on my legs, there’s no getting away from the fact that it isn’t the final solution. To gain the most height in the cushion and maximise the leg room, I inflated it to the full rather than to the recommended level. This meant even something as mundane as chucking the Hayabusa round a roundabout is a fraught affair that causes my brain all sorts of issues, as the layer of air between my bum and the seat of the bike means that the two are completely detached from each other. The motion of the bike leaning either from vertical or from side to side is disconcerting, to say the least; all feeling and feedback from the bike has gone, and the bike and my body are on two independent arcs. The bike begins to lean but the top half of my body initially doesn’t. Then, when the desired angle of lean is reached and the bike stops leaning, my body doesn’t. It’s weird, and I don’t like it.
For the most part, the fully inflated cushion is a revelation and can stay on the bike, and when filled to the correct level the experience is totally different and fear free, but the leg room gained is then minimal, so it’s a case of choosing my pressure to suit my riding needs; long distance and comfort, or all out cornering. Ultimately the bladder has made the riding position more befitting of the Hayabusa’s capabilities for eating miles, but it has made me wonder if there’s a better solution to my problem that’s more versatile, so I’ll do some thinking about that.
Meanwhile, the trip to Skegvegas ended up being a bit of a damp squib. Any ideas of a nice ice cream by the sea were soon dashed by the tide being out and not being able to find an ice cream van, and while the done thing at 11am by most of the other visitors was to drink pints of lager and/or eating chips, I decided that actually I preferred to be riding my Hayabusa – a clear sign of progress.