So, you’re asking about my time with a Honda 1200, eh? Yeah, I’ve got a story there. It’s not all sunshine and open roads like you see in the brochures, let me tell you.
My Journey with the Big Honda
It all started a few years back. I’d been riding smaller bikes, you know, zippy little things. But then I got this idea in my head – I needed something bigger. Something for the long haul. And the Honda 1200, well, it had this reputation. Smooth, powerful, like an armchair on wheels. That’s what they said.
So, I found one. An older model, but she looked decent. The previous owner swore by it. “Best bike I ever had,” he said. Famous last words, right?
The first few weeks were a learning curve. My “practice” truly began then.
Here’s what I remember from those early days:
- The Weight: Man, that thing was heavy. Moving it around the garage felt like wrestling a small bear. Dropping it? Didn’t happen, thankfully, but the fear was real. Every stoplight on a hill was a mini workout for the legs.
- The Controls: Everything felt… substantial. The clutch pull, the throttle response. It wasn’t jerky, just very deliberate. Took some getting used to after my nimble little 600.
- The “Smoothness”: Okay, they weren’t wrong there. On the highway, it was like floating. Barely felt the engine. I could see why people toured on these things for hours.
I started using it for my daily commute, thinking I’d be king of the road. That’s where the “practice” got real detailed. My morning routine changed. Had to plan my parking spots carefully. No more squeezing into tight spaces. And filtering through traffic? Forget about it. This wasn’t a scalpel; it was more like a big, comfy battle-axe. Good for open combat, not so much for tight skirmishes.
Then came the maintenance. Oh boy. I like to tinker, do my own basic stuff. But this 1200 was a different beast. Just getting to the spark plugs felt like a major operation. Everything was packed in there so tight. Parts weren’t exactly cheap either. Found that out when the regulator decided to call it quits. That was an expensive week, let me tell you. My wallet felt that one.
I remember one specific trip. Planned a weekend ride up the coast. The Honda was supposed to be perfect for it. And it was, for a while. Then, halfway there, in the middle of nowhere, it started acting funny. A weird whirring sound. My heart sank. Pulled over, checked what I could. Nothing obvious. Limped it to the next town. Turned out to be a minor electrical gremlin, but it spooked me. That “bulletproof reliability” everyone talked about? It had a few chinks in its armor, at least on my particular machine.
After about a year, I had to be honest with myself. Was this the bike for me? The “practice” had taught me a lot. It was comfortable, yes. Powerful, sure. But it was also demanding. Demanding of space, demanding of money, and demanding of a certain kind of riding style that wasn’t always mine.
I realized those big tourers, those Honda 1200s, they’re for a specific purpose, a specific rider. They’re not just “a bigger bike.” They’re a commitment. And my commitment was wavering. I missed the simplicity, the flickability of my old bikes.
So, what did I do? I sold it. Shook the new owner’s hand, wished him luck. Felt a bit sad, but also a bit relieved. It was an experience, that’s for sure. I learned a ton, not just about Honda 1200s, but about what I really wanted from a motorcycle. Sometimes you gotta go through the whole process, wrestle that bear in the garage, and spend that money on repairs to figure things out.
And that’s how I know what I know about those big Hondas. It’s not from reading magazines, it’s from living with one, day in and day out. It’s my story, my practice with it. Every rider’s journey is different, I suppose. But that was mine.
