Honda
When Honda dropped the VFR 1200F into the world in 2009, it wasn’t just aiming to update a long-standing series. It was gunning for the high-speed continent-crossing elite: BMW’s K-series, Yamaha’s FJR, and anyone else claiming to offer both sportbike adrenaline and cross-country comfort. What they delivered was a machine packed with tech and muscle, built around a wholly new V4 engine architecture and wrapped in styling that looked ready for a wind tunnel, and a warzone.
First impression?
The VFR 1200F is big. It’s long, wide through the midsection, and hefty at 267 kilograms. But what struck me right away was how it wears that weight with composure. Walking it through a tight parking spot on the edge of Mall Road felt like maneuvering a grand touring car. Not light, but very balanced. And then I fired it up. The V4 lets out a low, throaty bark that has nothing to do with inline-fours. It rumbles, not screams. You hear each pulse through the exhaust, and at idle, it feels like it’s waiting, not idling, ready to pounce. The climb out of Shimla toward Naldehra is a mix of tight bends, long sweepers, and short, blind straights. On most bikes, it’s a playground. On the VFR, it’s a proper test of integration between rider and machine. Let me tell you, this thing moves. Even though fifth and sixth gear are tall and tuned for relaxed highway cruising, there’s a raw power under your wrist that changes everything the moment you drop to fourth. Twist the throttle and the bike lunges forward like it’s shedding weight. You don’t just accelerate, you surge.
Power
The power is constant and deep. You feel the pull as early as 3,000 rpm. By the time the needle hits 8,750, you’re holding on with your legs. With 173 horsepower and 129 Nm of torque, there’s no shortage of grunt anywhere in the rev range. But what’s even more impressive is how easy the power delivery feels. The V4 doesn’t need to scream to go fast. It just does. There’s refinement here, this isn’t raw aggression. It’s practiced, confident strength. Then there’s the cardan shaft. Unlike a chain, it doesn’t whine or slap around. It just works, smooth, quiet, and completely devoid of backlash. This matters when you’re feathering throttle in corners or downshifting aggressively before a hairpin. There’s no drama, just business.
And the brakes? Honda nailed them.
The VFR uses a Combined Braking System (CBS) that integrates front and rear braking intelligently, and it’s paired with a highly effective ABS system. I’m usually skeptical of linked brakes, but here, it’s executed brilliantly. Squeeze the front lever, and the rear assists subtly. Tap the rear, and the front comes alive with just the right pressure. It makes descending a fast, uneven mountain road feel like threading a needle with surgical gloves, precise, controlled, safe. The ride, meanwhile, is pure sport-touring heaven. The seat is sculpted just right for long hauls, and the riding position feels neutral, upright enough for visibility, but with enough lean to feel in control. There’s excellent wind protection from the layered fairing, and the X-shaped headlight design doesn’t just look cool, it throws solid, wide beams in foggy morning light. Honda even thought to include an accessory windscreen that mounts cleanly and adjusts to three positions. I didn’t have one installed, but I can imagine how much it would help on longer highway rides. One small touch I loved was the instrument cluster. Everything is where it should be, tach dead center, speed to the side, gear indicator present and reliable. There’s even an ambient temperature gauge. It sounds trivial until you’re 2,400 meters up with clouds swallowing the road ahead and you suddenly appreciate knowing it’s just 4°C out. Handling-wise, the VFR is no sportbike, but it’s shockingly agile for its size. On the tight hairpins out near Kufri, I could feel the chassis tighten into the line like it had a built-in GPS. It leans with confidence, and the tires (stock Bridgestones) held on despite cold patches and the occasional wet leaf pile. The suspension is set firm but forgiving. Rough patches of broken tarmac never unsettled the bike or my spine. And perhaps my favorite discovery? Stability. High-speed sweepers on mountain ridges can be terrifying on twitchy bikes. The VFR tracks like a rail. I threw it into a few long curves well past the speed I was comfortable admitting, and it didn’t flinch. This is where all that weight suddenly becomes an asse, tit plants the bike solidly, anchors it. I took a pillion rider for the last leg down into the valley, and the VFR handled the extra load like it wasn’t even there. The rear comes pre-equipped with mounts for panniers, and while I didn’t carry luggage this time, it’s clear this bike is built for proper travel. I did feel the weight more on steeper inclines, especially from a stop, but once in motion, it was business as usual.
Conclusion
The Honda VFR 1200F is the kind of bike that doesn’t beg for attention. It earns it. Every part of it, engine, brakes, chassis, ergonomics, has been built with intent. There’s no fluff here. This isn’t a bike made to chase trends. It’s built to perform, to tour, to thrill, and to last. Up in the mountains of Shimla, with no guardrails and only blind turns between you and a thousand-foot drop, you learn to trust your machine quickly. And after a full day in the saddle, I trusted the VFR completely. It’s not the lightest bike. It’s not the most high-tech today. But what it offers is something harder to find: consistency, torque-rich power, comfort, and a quiet, muscular confidence that doesn’t need to shout to be heard. It may not be new anymore, but it’s still a damn fine ride. Would I take it up into the Himalayas again? Without a second thought.
