Long term Futura report

One down, 619 miles to go and already my heart is in my boots. Along with about a litre of rain water. Behind me the doors of the Brittany ferry and the comforts of a warm bed and a full bar. Ahead of me a day’s ride in dubious conditions. And this was before the oil light glowed into life.

I’d been feeling pretty good about the journey. A visit to my parents in the South of France over New Year on my freshly-serviced Futura seemed perfect and the wife had decided to fly, so I didn’t have a pillion to worry about.

The prospect of high speeds, decent roads and bright, if chilly weather had lifted my spirits and put the Arctic conditions of Blighty at the back of my mind.

That was until I got my first glance at the weather through the steel jaws of the ferry. Ever seen that film with George Clooney, where they go out in a fishing boat in the worst storm in history? Well, now it’s the second worst.

But I had some of the best aids to modern biking at my disposal: Waterproofs and some Oxford Hot Hands heated grips. I rode out into it all. Then the oil light came on. Then the sidestand light came on so I pulled into a service station.

The oil level was fine, as was the sidestand. More in hope than anything else, I turned the engine off and then on again. Both lights remained subdued, but not entirely out.

Even though I was riding as cautiously as possible, the conditions made any corner other than a gentle sweeper a test of nerve. The French love their diesel cars, so on the trek to the motorway the Aprilia was anything but quick as I gingerly negotiated the slippery roundabouts.

The next few hours were faster, but the rain started to come down like cats and frogs. Though my Belstaff Explorer jacket and trousers didn’t leak, I had them tucked into my motocross-style Sidi Courier boots and the water simply ran into them. This hasn’t happened before, thanks to their excellent fit, but the volume of water was incredible.

Just past Bordeaux, the weather eased and I could start making decent progress. I think the Futura was as glad to see sunshine as me. The warning lights finally went off for good and we settled into the kind of pace more fitting for the 110bhp V-twin.

At high speeds, the Futura is as composed as at 70mph and, given the superb awareness of French drivers, and lack of gendarmes, I made rapid progress. The Futura was giving me about 130 miles to reserve, even at this pace. But, to be honest, I was glad of every chance to get some food and a hot coffee down my neck.

By the time I was into the final leg it was getting dark. As I passed Narbonne, I saw the first bikes I’d seen all day. It was three blokes on much slower machines riding in a group. As I passed them (with my right leg out – the French equivalent of a wave to a rider you’ve just overtaken) I noticed they were on heavy-duty off-roaders. Poor sods, I thought, it will take them forever to get anywhere on those.

Farther down the péage, I noticed people crowding the bridges. My God, I thought, are they so bored they’ve got nothing better to do than watch traffic?

The penny only dropped when I passed the next group of riders… I’m riding with the Paris-Dakar Rally!

Suddenly I stopped feeling so sorry for myself. I’d just done 600 miles and was just minutes away from hot food and a restorative vino. These guys were on the start of an adventure that would see them do huge distances over some of the roughest terrain in the world with virtually no sleep for almost 6000 miles.

The next few days were fantastic. The sun shone brightly and it was great to see green trees again. Even my return journey was done in the kind of weather England reserves for special autumnal Sundays. Other than the mystery electrical gremlins, which I can only put down to the abnormal conditions, the only other problem was a slight reluctance to select neutral. This only occurred at the end of the journey, after a prolonged thrashing.

I’ve adjusted the chain and that seems to have cured it, but until I go on another monster slog I can’t tell. I’ve talked to my local dealer about the electrical niggles and he said it was the first time he’d heard of such a fault on the Futura. E-mail me at dave.batchelor@emap.com if you know different.

It was comfortable enough to ride more than 600 miles in a day, it has loads of Italian character and the gutsy mid-range makes overtaking a safe thrill. Prolonged riding at more than 100mph did make the motor feel a touch undergeared, and I often tried to hook a fantasy seventh. But I’m sure that feeling will be a distant memory when I’ve done more miles at the more usual 85mph.

The conditions in France were testing, but they highlighted how usable the Futura can be in any weather, over any distance. Despite the downpour, my 620-mile journey from St Malo to Béziers took just nine hours. Doing it in unbroken summer sunshine really would be enjoyable – which, funnily enough, is just what I’m planning.