At a standstill, the seat height and semi-standard ergos probably fit shortys like me best, but the riding position becomes friendlier when you shove off, with the low seat height and the overall cockpit layout inspiring plenty of confidence. The low, wide bars give you lots of leverage to toss the bike into turns, and minutes after saddling up, I am a man on the run, splitting through the downtown traffic chaos with ease. At 567 lbs. wet, the Forty-Eight isn't exactly a lightweight, but the center of gravity is low, and despite that chunky front tire, it turns in easily and beckons to be ridden aggressively. There was an occasional hint of vagueness from the front end, but nothing overly dramatic.
Things felt more connected out on the open road. After I pinned the throttle on the 73ci air-cooled V-twin, I felt more in tune with the available torque (peaking at a claimed 79 ft-lb @ 4000rpm). The rubber-mounted engine has a wide powerband, and thanks to a low first-gear ratio, it's a cinch to launch off the line hard without having to tap too many RPM or use much clutch. The ample torque makes the Forty-Eight's mill fairly rider-friendly, even if things run out of steam up top. Still, you don't even miss the absent tachometer; the bare-bones, single-gauge instrumentation is really all you need on this bike. The torque curve falls off a bit in the higher gears, and taller ratios there mean a few more trips to the gearbox than you're used to. Through all this, you'll still get the requisite Harley low-frequency vibration.
That's all well and good, but ride quality is another matter altogether. The Forty-Eight's cool, crouching stance comes courtesy of a shortened rear suspension, which makes itself known when you hit a bump-of any size or quality, really-at speed. Sharp-edged imperfections are downright nasty. It's not only your ass that gets kicked; the backbone mounting bracket is also-let's just say, "uncomfortably"- configured.
But then, as I mentioned earlier, I'm not the target market for this bike: I don't wear skinny jeans, have a chain hanging off my ass or suck Parliaments down to the nub. Far as I'm concerned, this bike should be called the Ball Breaker. Because when the bumps come, trust me, your 48-year-old butt (or other parts) does not want to be on the Forty-Eight.
Insolent, chain-smoking 22 year-old masochists will absolutely love this machine. Clearly, it's meant to be an urban bomber, but here's a newsflash: cities tend to have potholes (especially Los Angeles). And the Forty-Eight/Asphalt Acne combo platter is one dish you do not want to taste firsthand. Allow me to elaborate: Gents, if you're in need of a vasectomy, take the Forty-Eight downtown.
And because the Forty-Eight's pegs are forward-mounted, even if you see the bump coming you can't stand up easily to absorb that kick. Then again, we lent the bike to our friends over at
Super Streetbike magazine, and they absolutely loved it. They were more concerned with the stock exhaust's anemic soundtrack.
The Forty-Eight can be comfortable-on a smooth, glassy road-for um, say an hour in the saddle, except for one problem-wind blast. As you might expect on an unfaired bike where you're fairly upright, wind can pummel your chest. Things get ugly if you spend a period of time above 65mph, so forget about long-distance junkets. Sure, the blast can be minimized with a shield, but the stiff ride and small tank would still be a pain-your low fuel light will come on at around 45 miles despite having over a gallon left in the tank. Then again, it makes sense for Harley to minimize the fuel load on the XL 1200X-a ride longer than 80 miles is bound to chafe.
Like most bikes with a rear-biased stance, scrubbing off speed on the Forty-Eight quickly requires pretty liberal use of the rear brake too-the front calipers alone don't pack much power, and offer a somewhat wooden feel.