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Honda Rune

by Ian Buckley

The Rune does not lack presence

 

Chick Magnet

"Can we be ya bikie molls?" was the screech from the battered Commodore next to me as I waited patiently at the Frankston intersection.

Far from my expectations of Jessica Alba who was due to shag me any day now, these two swamp donkeys next to me had clearly been impressed by the mammoth Honda Rune between my legs. I on the other hand was far from impressed with women who clearly roll their own tampons and kick start the menstrual cycle. Where was Jessica?

You see three years ago when Honda landed the first Rune in Australia for the Sydney Motorcycle Show, I offered to move it into position and was swiftly told not to touch it and that I had "more chance of rooting Jessica Alba" by Honda's Marketing Manager Rhys Griffiths. You can imagine my anticipation when Rhys threw me the keys three weeks before the GP. I had hardly considered the bike.

Knowing full well that Jessica likes her men rugged and brutish with a hint of polish, the Rune was the perfect ride because it also held those qualities and I was sure to prove a fine notch in her G-string.

Pimp my Ride

The Rune is more than a modified Goldwing. It would be unfair to simplify it so because apart from the glorious eighteen hundred six-cylinder motor, the remainder is a dedicated styling exercise designed to show that custom cruisers are not the domains of Harley Davidson engines.

Honda America commissioned the Rune and limited the production run to one only per Honda dealer. Honda Australia had to purchase ten units to secure the model and nine went straight away into private collections leaving this one, which has spent its time in MPE's museum. I was gobsmacked to say the least when it was offered up for the Fantasy Island Ride and the overwhelming good will that followed it wherever BIKE ME! rode it was undeniable. People loved it, and they loved it more for being ridden day to day.

The Living Truth

My two weeks on the bike covered just on four thousand kilometers and included daily commutes, Sunday sprints, coffee pose session, and full on touring. It was no surprise to me that the Rune was pleasure to ride in each situation but it was a surprise to a few of our friends who spent the best half of the climb up Mt Hotham out of Bright trying to get past me.

The Rune is no racer although it handles well and it was never designed as a scratcher, but six cylinders is always going to produce bag loads of torque and at 900mm wide, I made myself into a road block bellowing into corners. As the throng of sporties banked up behind to overtake me into the next one, I just poured it on while they tapped at their gear levers looking for mid range which never came in time. One must amuse oneself when one posses certain advantages.

The weekend before we headed off to the Island, Steve and I took the speed triple and the Rune down the coast and up through Kangaroo Valley. We met up with a mate and enjoyed what was a typical jaunt on this particular ride, drinking coffee in the middle and finishing with a pie at the top of Macquarie Pass. What became clear to me then was that a certain style was needed to punt the Rune without making a fatal mistake and ultimately being chicken winged out of Honda's favor forever. The Rune will ground the pegs very easily and whilst this is no deal (other than the thousands of dollars that leave you in the form of sparks) it becomes an issue when the road surface undulates. What happens is the soft suspension wallows and the pegs dig in instantly standing the bike up which mid corner aint no fun. There were a couple of times that I had to pour it on to keep it tight after having been redirected.

On the long sweepers I found the suspension soft and it would wallow like nothing I have ridden in the last ten years but it never once suggested that it might let me down. In fact, the more you let it do its own thing, the better it gets and you soon forget about it. I got more than a few comments from other riders as to how much it moved around but ultimately it was no issue. When the roads were silky smooth though, the Rune was superb and stepped up another notch. In the city it was fabulous and like its cousin, the Goldwing, it reinforced that with big big bikes, it is all about the rear brake and the clutch. I could split the stationary traffic with ease and there is nothing off the lights I know of that can beat it.

Drag Racer

It was in Shell Harbor when Steve and I were returning to his house that I got all frisky at the lights knowing Steve is a drag racer. I peppered him and when the lights turned green, I let go what was without doubt the absolute perfect start. As Steve would recall later:

"You nailed it and I thought I might let you go away a little bit but you just kept going and I was blistering in fourth before I pulled you in. I didn't think I was going to get you"

Steve was certainly blistering in fourth because the Rune does not have much mid range and when he came past, he was a couple of feet from the gutter with the front wheel half a meter in the air shifting his body to the right trying to steer it without backing off. It took me back twenty years, to when we were kids and irresponsible.

We are no longer kids.

I left the Rune with Steve for a few days while I took the Speed Triple to Newcastle for work and Steve reported that he had been promoted to "The Coolest" at work by his staff and renamed Batman. The size and presence of the Rune is something else and Steve would bring a Batman mask on the ride to the Island for emergencies.

The Island run was fabulous and I managed to fit all I needed into a two-story tank bag and a backpack. The riding position allowed my legs to support the tank bag and not once did I experience any discomfort at all. We had a bit of rain, sun and wind and of course the Rune was as solid as a rock. There was one incident in Cowes where we turned off the main drag to an audience of HOG riders and I bagged it up out of the corner. It was a bit damp and I hadn't anticipated such an acute splay but from all accounts it looked horn and the Runes' nearly two-meter wheelbase ensured I didn't turn myself inside out and on my arse. Sometimes lady luck looks after you. Just don't take her for granted.

The Lost Boys

"We meet at Kiandra!" yelled Boris as Mick went to rectify his total loss oil system on his new turbo charger. He didn't say we turn off two kilometers before Kiandra. No no no? "we meet at Kiandra" is pretty plain Serbian to me. And because I am an understanding biker I let everyone take off on their sports bikes over the mountain while I did the Rune thing ensuring they had a pleasant time. I pulled up at Kiandra and sat for twenty minutes. Alone. Nobody. Nuttin'. Nil.

You can imagine my anger at having to then ride eighty kilometers return to Adaminaby to buy a map and then be sitting back at Kiandra figuring out where the fuck they went. The selfish fucktards who were designing the route had failed to ensure everyone knew the route and assure all they would wait at any turn off etc etc -- lip service lies and egocentric clap trap. I was by this stage ropable and riding accordingly. Having found two others left behind with two more to come, by the time I got to Bright I was ready to take off heads.

I had my periods by the time I landed and decided isolation was the answer. I took my self off to buy some food and alcohol sitting in the Park planning my solo ride to the Island the next day. There is nothing more offensive to me than such abandonment and I felt the need to extricate myself. I had publicly yelled at Boris casting aspersions at his parenthood on the footpath outside the pub ultimately coming together in a hug. Mind you, the patrons were crowding the windows as two six foot mammals yelled at each other whilst charging and likely wondering if it might spill inside. I needed to go home and change my pads.

I eventually met all at the pub, and would spend that night throwing one liners at Boris about commitment, friendship, the Kakoda Trail, mateship, Lord of the Flies, Animal Farm and any other meaningless example where I might remind him "All for One and One for All" really did have a place in my heart. Even as I shared my spare Andy Srapz with him the next day to secure his migrating load I quipped "I would never leave you stranded".

I could sense a punch in the mouth if I kept at it. I would have my revenge either in this life or the next.

Remember Me

The next day was the ride up Mt Hotham and as we laughed about the local girl who clearly captains the Bright Breeding Team and had thought it smart to come into our camp to "Party". We agreed she could not contribute to our herd improvement program. The warnings of mass police presence were not lost on us.

We headed out and it soon became obvious to me that some of those who had joined us thought they needed to be right behind Boris in spite of double yellow lines and oncoming traffic. This of course caused the rest of us to have to brake and wrestle and remember why riding in groups is for losers. I quickly burred up, thought of the day before and promptly shoved the Rune right up the guts of the lot of them like a whale through krill. I held position until we got to the twisties, when Boris, Steve and Mick disappeared.

As before, I made myself thirteen feet wide into every corner, thundering out the other side determined to get some damn respect from the Philistines. I watched in my mirror for the good ones using both lanes to maximize corner speed, blocked the road, and waited for oncoming traffic to assist. When there was oncoming traffic I slowed particularly knowing my grunt would give me an advantage. I could see Dino working his way through and let him go, smugly blocking Island Mick, continuing this charade until the road opened up and I knew I had no mid range to fight them off any longer. I had made my point retreating to my own headspace as if I had actually achieved something. I could care less for the futility of my actions.

Fear Not Citizens of Hotham City

This would be my cry as I rode the Rune around Mt Hotham car park with a batman mask on. The ride up was spectacular to say the least and the consequences of getting it wrong unimaginable. We spent some hours photographing and filming, eventually strapping two cameras to Dino as he weaved through us grabbing some great footage for the the DVD.

Omeo would become Bairnsdale, Sale, Moe and then Melbourne for me. While the rest headed for the Island, I opted home for the night to see the wife and kids after a week away. The Rune continued to serve me well with acceptable fuel consumption, great handling and a comfortable ride.

The Friday morning of the GP I left at 6am for the Island in the pissing rain. It pissed down the whole way not letting up and I met Boris and Steve in Cowes for breakfast before unloading my gear in the house and heading to the show.

Valet Parking

We belly laughed at the shear opulence of parking for the ?Show 'n Shine' and of course made sure the Rune, MV, MT01 and Boulevard were all filthy rotten dirty. The remainder of the trip was short sprints around the Island and much conversation with other bikers about the Rune, its origins and mostly the price.

The Rune is hardly a bike for the masses. It is not something everyone needs to understand as most will never see one let alone ride it. You know it is going to work because it is a Honda and it sure as shit is more functional than a custom chopper with a rigid frame and two meter long forks.

The reality on this bike is that you can tour on it in comfort if you want, have a fang or just pose. You will get heaps of interest, it's cheaper than most choppers I have seen and if it had a passenger seat it could get you laid.

I must thank Honda for the opportunity to not only ride this bike, but to put some serious kilometers on it. If you ever thought you liked the Rune, I can tell you it is not a disappointment and with the strength of the Aussie dollar, there are still some for sale in the States. Apparently Jessica Alba is in the country as well.

 

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