Honda NT1100 DCT
Looks like the umbrella, saving plan and comfortable shoes of biking. But behind its sensible practicalities there’s a bloody good bike
Hmm, that’s odd. There’s little more than a dusting of cirrus cloud high in an otherwise flawless blue sky, yet I swear I keep hearing the rumble of thunder. There it is again. It takes several miles of westbound A684 before I realise the sound is coming from Hugo ahead as he fires out swift roll-on overtakes on the parallel twin NT1100. Emitting a deep, bassy exhaust hubbub isn’t the only surprise from the seemingly straight-laced Honda. We expected fine ergonomics, weather protection and easy miles for the slog north, and that’s what we got. But nobody really thought the NT would be the most pleasing heading back and forth along Buttertubs Pass a few times (well, why wouldn’t you?). Through tight, bumpy hairpins at the northern end it’s way more agile than the K1600GT, has greater accuracy than the Versys, and copes with lumps better than the Tiger. With 90-odd horsepower the 1084cc engine is weak on paper next to the whooshing four-cylinder Kwak and wild inline-six BMW, but with thickly-spread torque and punchy gears the Honda romps out of craggy corners. Great suspension too – the ride’s far comfier than the Tiger and stays controlled when the Versys gets wayward. The NT has impressed all by the time we sample one (or four…) pints of Black Sheep at the Tan Hill Inn. ‘As a compromise between handling 140 miles of A1 drudge and twisty, knotted Dales roads it’s pretty much perfect,’ reckons Hugo. ‘The K16 and Versys should have been better on dual carriageways, but with two huge traffic jams to navigate the slimmer panniers on the Honda gave it a traffic splitting edge, and it’s just as comfortable. On the bumpy B-roads it steers
really nicely, handling is neutral, and the suspension’s compliant.’ The Honda’s problem is few of these fine attributes are apparent on first contact. It’s unlikely to woo on a brief demo ride because the NT is the opposite of shouty, needing time and miles for you to appreciate the polished dynamic and togetherness. After a while, even the restrained styling starts to look attractive. Hugo again: ‘I got on this after riding the K1600GT and it felt like it was broken. Slow and coarse. But actually everything feels coarse after the sublime six-cylinder BMW, and once I’d got over the shock it’s grown on me more and more… and more. With the DCT switched to Sport it’s really engaging.’ Ah yes, DCT (dual clutch transmission). There’s no clutch lever. You press a button to engage motion and just turn the throttle, but it’s not a mushy automatic – the bike is operating the clutch and manages shifts for you, but there’s normal connection between twistgrip, crank and rear wheel. Gears are pre-selected ready to change up or down based on speed and throttle position. In Drive mode it forever tries to reach top gear, but Sport modes hold onto gears and shift up and down just as you would. Or you can change manually like on an arcade game using finger and thumb buttons on the left handlebar.
We thought the 1100 would suit DCT and for once we were right. Ignore the slightly slushy Drive mode (or accept that you’ll need to
‘If we’re bunking off on a similar jaunt I’m going to bagsy the NT’
thumb-in the odd downshift to smoothly scrub speed), whack it in one of the increasingly revvy Sport modes, and wonder why anyone bothers with a faffy manual ’box. Hugo’s convinced it makes him a smoother rider, and even pessimistic Langy sees the light: ‘I’m shocked by how much I like DCT and how right it feels. The Playstation generation must love how you can flick through gears.’ There’s plenty more electronic gubbins on the Honda, with heated grips, cruise and traction control, riding modes, phone connectivity, various display options and indicators that turn themselves off. It’s all lovely and does what it should, though the TFT display looks a bit dull after the slick cinema-scape K1600. And worse, it’s all managed with baffling switchgear that’s as unpleasant to use as it is to look at.
There are plenty of old-fashioned physical niceties as standard on the NT as well, with a large rack, centrestand, five heights for the effective screen (though the tug-and-slide adjustment is crude) and panniers (not quite as large as on the Versys, but easier to open or remove).
When Honda announced the NT1100 would be £11,999 it looked an awful lot of bike for the money. It’s now crept to £12,399 – plus another grand for DCT. But it’s still very reasonable for such a capable, rounded and discreet package. If someone decides we’re bunking off on a similar jaunt tomorrow, I’m going to bagsy the NT.