The cruiser that’s not a cruiser

I am not a cruiser guy.  Never have been, never will be.  Rob Brooks, Road Dirt Motorcycle Media’s owner, chief cook and bottle washer is a cruiser guy.  Loves the things.  He grew up on them and loves the whole shaking, vibrating, heavy chrome, poor brakes, sloppy handling experience.  He even wears open face helmets (shudder).  Cruisers are slow, handle like trying to dock an aircraft carrier into port, weigh just as much, and are at their best when going in a straight line or just looking good going nowhere.  Cruisers are not how my brain is wired.

Looking at my garage gives you a window into my brain, all crowded with Honda VFRs and a Superhawk track bike parked around a 1966 Ford Mustang convertible.  The rest of my brain is a void where there should be some thinking, then a confused spot where I struggle with music theory and another corner with a flashing neon “I’m hungry” sign.  The rest of the space is labeled Speed Brain.  Speed Brain speaks to me whenever I ride a motorcycle, ski, or drive, constantly whispering in my ear saying “I think you can go faster”.  Nowhere in my brain is there a parking spot for a cruiser.

This is your brain on drugs.

Then a few weeks ago, Honda North America dropped off a 2026 Rebel 1100 DCT SE at my front door.  It was at my asking actually, to compare the revised 2026 model year’s new dash, seat and riding position to the previous model.  I was not prepared for what happened next.  Not at all.

As it was being lowered off the trailer I instantly loved the looks.  Both of you who read my previous article about the Rebel know I ripped into the Rebel’s looks for having a rising gas tank and elevated front end that makes the bike look “pre-crashed”.  However, the pearl gray colorway of the SE, the headlight fairing, bar end mirrors and stitched seat oozed cafe-racer vibes.

I love cafe racers.  Flat black was everywhere on the Rebel: no chrome, no flashy bits, clean dash, neat wiring and a low, narrow profile.  I was intrigued until Speed Brain spoke to me and said “Don’t get your hopes up.  Its a cruiser, remember?  It’s probably slow, lazy and shakes like your chocolate lab coming out of the river.”  Good point, Speed Brain.  Thank you for being a part of my life.

Bronze wheels, gloss grey color, bar end mirrors and stitched seat strike an attractive stance.

There is a road near my house that shall remain nameless, a rising mountain road that snakes through a towering pine forest with giant sweepers, linking S curves and tight hairpins.  Uphill, twisty, and a dead end, it tests speed, brakes, handling and throttle discipline.  Mountain elevation makes it a soothing ten to twenty degrees cooler than the valley and the dead end means if there are no police on the first pass then playtime has begun.  Nameless it shall remain, to protect the guilty souls like me that mine it’s treasure.

I unloaded the bike from the transporter while Speed Brain spun circles.  Gorgeous Rebel had only 150 miles on the clock, likely earned in the plodding parade progression typical of so many press launches.  I had the bike for exactly nine minutes and thirty seconds before I grabbed my leather jacket, full face helmet and thumbed the starter on the Rebel.  Speed Brain was telling me the Rebel needed to be let off its chain.  I knew where to take it.

Ergonomics are adjusted for the 2026 model.  Footpegs are farther forward, handlebars are pulled farther back and the seat is improved.  Combined with a TFT dash these upgrades make a much improved Rebel.

I agreed.  It was time to cut its tether and literally launch this new bike, my inquisitive mind already asking questions about the Rebel 1100 and its dual clutch transmission that only my right wrist could answer.  Cruiser, eh?  We’ll see about that.

Arai helmet on, gloves tight, balls of feet on the forward footpegs, thumb the starter and the 1100 twin rumbles up.  This big twin doesn’t so much shake as resonate: not too much, not too little, just enough engine character for a gear head like me but not enough to be fatiguing.  Good job Honda.  Grab the clutch and…wait…there isn’t one.  And no gearshift lever.

A dual clutch transmission means neither.  I thumb the selector to normal mode and make way to my mountain racetrack.  Riding there is smooth, easy, relaxing.  Feet forward and no shifting takes me back to the days when I resurrected an old pair of Trail 90s that sat idle for 25 years.  I never had so much fun as riding those slow bikes fast and the Rebel gives off the same simple, pleasant, enjoyable riding sensation as a Trail 90, if those old bikes took a bunch of steroids until their heart grew to 1100cc.  So I cruise, a gentle massage to my constantly spinning Speed Brain.  Chilly wind on my chest, good vibes through the machine, beautifully crafted bike beneath me I slow down, imbibe the forest, look at the mountains, and…what the…am I doing the speed limit?

Honda’s Dual Clutch Transmission adds 22 lbs and a bit of additional width to the engine bay.  Worth it.

No.  Stop.  I am not a cruiser guy.  For a second there the vibes and scenery were putting Speed Brain to sleep.  Dang you Rebel.  I thumb the mode selector from Normal to Sport, pin the throttle and the Honda launches forward with authority while the front forks extend.  What just happened?

The Rebel woke up, that’s what happened.  Honda claims 87 hp at 7,250 rpm and 72 ft lbs of torque at a low 4,750 rpm on a 525 lb bike.  For reference, my 1998 VFR800 has about 105 hp and 60 ft lbs of torque on a 500 lb-ish bike, closer numbers than I think.  Torque drives acceleration, so the Rebel has pop.

I leave it in Sport mode and pin the throttle to the stops and my first corner comes in a hurry, a 90 degree flat right.  At my braking marker I slam the throttle shut, slide my body to the right side and grab a fistful of front brake while Speed Brains says, “Uhhh, this is not a sportbike and this is not The Keyhole turn at The Ridge Motorsports Park.  You know that, right??”  Shut up Speed Brain, something is happening.

A cruiser at home among the twisties.

Shockingly the transmission bangs out three rapid backshifts from 6th gear down to 3rd, just as I would at the track.  I aim it at the apex, and the wide bar and centralized mass means the Rebel responds too, with absurdly quick-as-you-like steering that catches me off guard.  I ease off the front brakes as I add lean angle and the Rebel hunkers down.  Narrow footpegs help with cornering clearance but the ball of my right foot touches pavement first with the peg feeler close behind.  Toe sliders, peg feelers, easily replaceable.  Just before the apex I ease off the brakes and roll on the gas.  Sport mode holds it in 3rd gear as I get greedy with the throttle.  The back end grips, the front tracks and broad torque shoots the Rebel out of the corner.  Oh.  My.  God.

I pin the throttle again until the braking marker for the upcoming long sweeping left hander and repeat the whole sequence over again: slide my body to the left, linear application of strong front brakes gets the front to bite, Rebel’s Sport mode bangs out rapid backshifts, quick steering points it right at the apex, trail off brakes and roll on throttle and pick the bike upright, torque wave powering the narrow Rebel out of the corner.  Speed Brain speaks.

“What the $#%& is going on here??”

Right now, I am wondering if Dunlop makes their Q5 track tire in cruiser sizes.

I have no idea.  This should not be happening.  Isn’t this thing a cruiser?  But I only think those thoughts in my head because I am too busy laughing out loud inside my helmet.  Audibly giggling with glee like a school kid who just found the gym unlocked, all the dodgeballs laying on the floor.  Playtime is here.

This sequence repeats itself curve after curve after endlessly, poetically perfect mountain curve.  I forget about a clutch, forget about shifting and forget about everything else going on in my life.  Nothing else in the world exists except me, my forest, my road, this delightful motorcycle and whoever is making the laugher echoing inside my helmet.

Everything I love about motorcycling, all of the sensations, passion, desire and all of the feelings that no matter how much I write still defy description, are all beneath me in a gorgeous grey missile with two beating pistons.  On long straits I go into flat track mode: chin on the tank, butt way back on the seat, right elbow tucked into my rib cage and left hand off the grip, grabbing the left fork near the top clamp.  Like a child who has just discovered the freedom of the wind I am smiling so wide it splits my face in two.  This, is why I ride.

It took Honda a few years to finally nail the ergonomics, dash and styling of the Rebel 1100.  The 2026 model upgrades were worth waiting for, and worth upgrading if you have the old model.

Honda has, either by engineering genius or total accident, reminded me, and all of us, that it is always more fun to ride Slow Bike Fast rather than Fast Bike Slow.  However, the Honda Rebel is not slow.  No, not at all.  Speed Brain agrees.

In fact, it’s not even a cruiser.  This is a stealthy mini-muscle, sport naked that, when ridden properly, makes other sport bike riders shake their disbelieving heads.  I witnessed it first hand on our seven day, 1800 mile, Best Of The Upper Left tour where we linked all the best roads in the PNW, all together for a week long speed fest.  Hundreds of miles each day on arguably some of the best roads in America.  In this group were riders with a few years sport touring experience, decades of sport touring experience, a little track time and a lot of track time.  They were on quick bikes like Suzuki’s GSXS-1000 GT, a GSXR 750, Yamaha’s beastly MT-10, and various flavors of VFRs.  And one black sheep, a Honda Rebel 1100.

Never did the Rebel get left behind.  Not once.  Rider skill plays a part, but so does this machine that can apply mounds of torque in a compact chassis with quick steering and strong brakes.  Others riders just looked at the Rebel 1100 in disbelief.  Not me.  I knew better.

Not a cruiser.

I am not a cruiser guy and never will be.  I don’t ride them, don’t buy them and don’t dream about them because I don’t see the point in plodding along while getting passed by a bread truck.  However, the 2026 Rebel 1100 DCT SE is not a cruiser.  It is a sport naked muscle bike with sharp handling, strong brakes, torque on demand and the right vibes coming from the engine bay.  And if you doubt this, if you still are not sure whether this bike is really that good, if you think I am making this up or this is all moto-journalist garbage, then here is the clincher.  Ready for this?  I never thought I would type these words.  I have to because they are true.  Here goes.  This is going to hurt.

Since the Rebel 1100 has arrived in my garage I have not ridden my Superhawk once. Yes, you read that right.  Not once.  Even more shocking, and I can’t believe I am admitting this, I have not ridden my precious Unicorn once.  Not one, single, time.  I am not even sure where their keys are.  The batteries could be dead for all I know.  I will probably have to drain bad fuel out of the carbs.  Cobwebs have collected around their wheels, dust is gathering on the gas tanks and I will for sure have to air up their tires.  Worse, I started the Mustang for the first time in weeks yesterday not to drive it, but just to make sure it was still functional.  This is their longest stretch of idle time under my ownership.  Ever.  Blame falls squarely on the shoulders of Honda’s Rebel.

Honda’s Rebel 1100 DCT SE has not made me a cruiser guy.  I never have been and never will be.  Speed Brain makes sure of that.  Good thing the Rebel is not a cruiser.

Honda may not get this bike back.

Ted Edwards
Photos by Ted Edwards and Matt Edwards

*For more on the 2026 Honda Rebel 1100 DCT SE, click HERE.