New Honda NC750X & CMX1100 Rebel set to stun
Is the new Honda CMX1100 Rebel even better than its hot-cake selling 500cc sibling?
‘At pace it feels more like a low naked bike than a boulevard bruiser’
What do you get if you cross an Africa Twin with a tubular steel cruiser frame, Japan’s take on cruiser styling and a smattering of rideenhancing electrickery?
While the answer could easily have been ‘a terrible motorcycle’ – the truth couldn’t be further in the opposite direction, and you’re going to have a lot of fun riding there to reach it.
Honda rolled out their 500 Rebel – based on brilliant CB500 family foundations
– back in 2017. The world collectively smirked at its baby-cruiser sensibilities and silly name, then swallowed a calorific dose of humble pie as it transpired to be one of the best offerings in the capacity segment. And yet I was still ready to be equally prejudiced about the new 1100. A near-identical styling and chassis package now married to the Africa Twin’s 1084cc parallel twin – an engine that’s a tad bland off the bottom of the rev range, but doesn’t mind working hard – and, digits aside, the same silly name. But barely more than a ’box worth of shifts later it’s only taken metres, not miles, to slip under its spell. Honda say the engine is largely unchanged in terms of architecture. A 32% heavier flywheel for more inertia joins forces with revised valve timing and ignition settings and a suite of rider modes (three set, plus a user-defined fourth) to choose from – conspiring to drop the AT’s best punch down to just shy of 86bhp @ 7000rpm and a sparrow-fart over 72lb.ft torque @ 4750rpm. But it feels fitter than that.
Oodles of character
Right from the get-go there’s a personality to the 270-degree offbeat Rebel’s yell that raises a quizzical eyebrow to its potential. Get moving and that burbling but crisp promise matches beautifully to the equally crisp and light gearbox, cogs wellspaced to make the most of the grunty delivery. Far from being a lazy laid-back layabout, the Rebel’s got an energy to it that rewards input. As you revel in the very un-Africa Twin bark and bite, you can’t help but be surprised by how easily the speedo is piling on proof of its pace. While many a feet-central/forward cruiser leaves you dangling off the bars like a prostrate bodybuilder attempting to do chin ups on the handlebars, you sit ‘in’ the Rebel in supportive calm. Yes, the seat starts to get uncomfortably pushy on your tailbone and numbs your bum after 50 miles in the saddle, but feet never float from the pegs, and neither arms nor neck muscles ever feel stretched even if you’re tanking on at near three-digit speeds. Impressive.
Handling the pressure
Much of that surprising pace and composure is thanks to the poise and balance of the chassis – again, despite figures on the spec sheet suggesting less deft control would be on offer. The Rebel wears its mass (223kg) with athletic ease, and it’s all so low to the tarmac that it feels 40kg lighter the scales say. Steering and cornering manners should also lack refinement, but the chubby 130/70 R18 front and 180/65 R16 Dunlop D428 tyres somehow deliver a neutrality, lightness and precision that’s backed by the chassis’ composure and stability. At walking pace it suffers none of the falling-in or tiller-like steering characteristics of some cruisers, and at pace it feels more like a low (the seat height’s a pretty dinky 700mm) naked bike than a boulevard bruiser. There’s no weave, no wobble, and even on its ear, boot heels grinding to dust as you edge it over to its 35-degree max dangle angle, there’s no loss of composure. You can be brutal with direction changes, lean hard on the brakes and treat the throttle like a switch – it soaks it all up. Only the twin rear shocks show any sign of being flustered, stiffish settings and short travel causing the rear wheel to skip if you hit a sharp bump while canted over mid-corner.
Practical magic
You have to push very hard to provoke the Rebel, but if you can make it bite back there’s 3-mode traction control to keep things under control, plus ABS and – comically – a rather superfluous wheelie control system. Standard, Rain and Sport modes mete out different throttle and power characteristics, but I could find no reason to deviate from Sport, even in the wet. There’s a User mode if you’re into setting your own settings, too. I’d trade the wheelie control and modes for cornering ABS, but despite some heavy braking on dirty grit-strewn roads it never got out of shape or triggered assistance. For a single disc set-up on a heavy sled, the brakes are well up to the job, too. And usefully, under the rider’s seat is a handy 3-litre storage compartment and a USB-C charging point, accessed via the ignition barrel that’s side-mounted on the Rebel’s left flank.
If I wanted to poke any accusatory fingers of disappointment at the Rebel, the only one with any real weight behind it would be prodding the exhaust – which looks like it’s been welded together from off-cuts of other systems, then mated to a scooter silencer. But really, that’s the only fly in an otherwise pleasing ointment that you’ll want to rub in at every opportunity.
‘The Rebel has got an energy that rewards input’