Holiday romance, or a keeper?

Can the Low Rider S be as tempting and seductive today in cold, wet England as it was years ago under the Mediterranean sun? Only one way to find out...

- Mikko Nieminen

Harley-Davidson Low Rider S

The Low Rider S was one of the first Harleys I ever rode. The impression it had on me is as vivid in my memory now as it was then. From the moment I started it, I was in awe of the machine that seemed like it was alive. After riding European and Japanese bikes, the American big V-twin felt like a living thing, shaking and growling - and that was before I had even turned a wheel.

After I recovered from my shock, I took the Low Rider S for a ride down the Route Napoleon in southern France. It's difficult not to like any bike on a sunny summer's day on a road like that, and I certainly enjoyed the Harley. I remember the amount of torque and low-down grunt feeling endless, getting used to the different riding style, and even making my peace with the slower-than-Japanese steering. The sun was out, I had a full tank of fuel, and I was wearing shades. I had a blast.

Fast forward a few years, and I am face-to-face with the Low Rider S again. This time it's in the East Midlands, in October. There's not a hill in sight. It's chilly and the leaves are falling. It will rain any moment.

If I can still dig the bike now, I know that those first impressions weren't all just because of the shock to the system.

First, no, second impressions

When I start the big Milwaukee-Eight 117 V-twin engine, I hear the familiar rumble, and feel the vibes of the bike.

But this time it's different. The engine has grown and been developed from when I last rode it, but the main thing is that I know what to expect, so there's no shock and awe. It's still miles from a smooth-running four-pot Jap bike, but it feels more refined and less wild than before.