Honda ST 1100 Pan European  ABS

Next to that, the Yam's playing in a slightly different orchestra. If the ST lives from 0-6000, the GTS pushes everything up a couple of thou, with gearing slightly lower to suit. (Which explains why it blitzed the more lumbering ST in the top gear roll-ons at the test track. At 60, the Honda is barely pulling 3000rpm, the Yam nearer five.) The way the GTS glides along, the neat gearbox and bulging midrange somehow replace basic adequacy with exhilaration, and compensates for dwindling top-end with bouncy eagerness between 4500 and seven. And it wheelies too.

But as for smoothness, there's little in it. With shaft drive and enough rubber between crank and rear tyre to fill an Amsterdam sex shop (one damper each in the clutch, drive shaft and rear wheel), all you notice on the ST is the quiet thrumm of the belted-cam V-four. On the Yam things are the other way round. Whatever slight snatch I noticed from the chain final drive and occasional clonks from the gearbox, were made up for by the glistening turbine straight four.

If you measure cruising ability by the time you can spend in the saddle, the ST wins hands down. While both have superb, though different, riding positions, seats and weather protection, the simple fact is that the ST will do well over 200 miles to the tankful while the GTS fuel light (neither has a reserve) is calling for tiger tokens at around 130. And that, by this yardstick, isn't good enough.

In truth, there's much more to it than that. However annoyed I was at having to pull over on the half-full ST whenever the GTS needed filling up, I later found it equally (if illogically) irksome that the ST costs more than my car to refuel.

Both are superb cruisers, bristling with comforts and sophistication to the extent they're easier to ride at 100 than 70. Yet they arrive at that point from slightly different directions - one German, the other is Japanese. So if the ST is the classic 'favourite armchair and newspaper'; all straight-backed, flat-footed and astonishingly cosseted behind the best fairing this side of a Mercedes; then the GTS, conversely, is the proof that you don't need an ironing board shoved down your back and a shop window to sit behind to get a couple of hours' worth of comfort.

Available with either a high or low screen (ours is the high version, though it's still much lower than the ST's), the GTS has the best combination of fairing and riding position I've come across. Like perhaps only the VFR750, the Yam somehow achieves that perfect but elusive, slightly canted-forward compromise. Bodyweight is shared equally between pegs, seat and wrists, and the slippery fairing slices virtually all the wind over your helmet. It's subtle where the ST's barn door is a bludgeon, even if a touch of vibes does attack your right hand and foot after a while. And true, it is much noisier than the ST, but then the Honda's not quite perfect either.

What's more impressive is the way both bikes tackle bends. These are big, heavy machines yet both offer a competency through the twisties that, all things considered, is plain miraculous.

With the GTS, with it being a Yamaha and with the well-reported success of That Front-End, it's almost to be expected - but the ST isn't a million miles behind. If you're laughing at the prospect of the police getting STs, don't. They can run rings round wobbly old K100LTs.

The GTS is a joy. Once you're familiar with its length and weight it's a doddle to ride fast and smooth. Stability is immense; the weight, carried low, gives almost Weeble-like properties, and the steering, with geometry tighter than an EXUP's, is light and accurate. And all of it is realised through that sublime, easy, riding position. What's more, the tyres are better than the ground clearance and the cherry is the brakes: a huge, ventilated disc and massive, six-pot caliper allied to Yamaha's glitch-free ABS system that bites like a chainsaw into plasticine and brings progressive, two-up, outbraking into the realm of reasonable behaviour.

Is That Front End weird? No, it just works: a grab of front brake, a slight nod rather than frantic, springy dive, and calm. Even the steering lock betters plenty of sports bikes I could mention.

Next to it the ST is huge - and all that bulk makes itself felt. While the GTS is certainly no lightweight, the Honda, carrying 701b more, and with most of it high up thanks to the tall engine and upright riding position, suddenly comes over as a Shire horse next to a racing filly. Even at standstill it's a brute.

At canter it takes some getting used to. The high, rubber-mounted bars seem vague; the weight and size a little overawing; the riding position and that fairing conditions you to expect the wobbles if you push too hard. But they're much further off than you'd expect.

With high-profile touring tyres, basic ol' tele forks, a conventional brake set-up (albeit with ABS) and Honda's bizarre single-sided rear shock, the ST certainly hasn't the specification to match the GTS. But together, it's a whole lot more than the sum of its parts.

The more I rode the ST, the more amazed I was at how composed, balanced and ruffled it is at speed. And the more amazed I became at how quickly and easily it covers the ground. This is one phenomenally competent machine. It'll never quite scratch, of course, unlike the GTS which can at least give you an adrenalin taste of such highs. Slow, nadgy corners are out of reach of the ST's heavy, tall steering and the brakes are dull, really needing the ABS (where on the Yam it's almost a toy) and always struggling to haul up the weight. But on fast sweepers, with you remaining conscious of what a meaty machine this is, the ST always impresses.

Both consoles are superb. The GTS's, resplendent behind a beautifully sculpted ally top yoke, is the snazzier: neat dials behind car-style glass and including twin trips; LCD clock; fuel gauge and fuel warning light. The ST's is slightly more basic and starting to look it's age with four plain dials topped by a massive strip of idiot warning lights (now including ones for the Traction Control System and ABS so leaving no room for the turn lights which have had to be repositioned, tackily, beside the dials). All lighting up like the Starship Enterprise when you turn the key.

And that's not the half of it. On the ST: good ping-off mirrors; useful fairing compartments; another LCD clock; a headlamp adjuster knob; two superb, single-key integral panniers (at 35 liters each is large enough for a full-face lid); a useful handle to help get it on the mainstand and a superb finish throughout.

And it's also got traction control. Like ABS, I'm sure this is a mechanism you'll either love or hate. In the dry I could do without: it's set a little too conservatively for my taste, knocked a good half second off its standing quarter times and stopped foolish wheelies. In the wet, however, with a bike this heavy, it's a godsend -assuming, of course, your name isn't Schwantz or Rainey. Personally, I was thankful there's an on/off switch: on in the wet, off in the dry.

But what it lacks is a cruise control and heated bar grips, both of which, I think, it needs.

The GTS spec' is even more impressive: a sizeable 'tank' cubby hole (the real tank is, again, under the seat); more excellent switchgear and ping-off mirrors; an under-seat compartment big enough for an oversuit; a specially-hardened ignition switch which automatically cuts the fuel injection system if tampered with or by-passed; auto-choke; that distinctive, hugger rear mudguard which does a superb job of keeping off road crud; an even better metallic paint finish (by a trick process called Melange, apparently) and more gizmos than you can shake a stick at.

But it, too, annoys slightly. For one thing there's the too-small tank. Allied to that is the unleaded-only filler arrangement (for the catalyser) with a small nozzle aperture under the filler flap which in turn is covered by a sprung cap - which makes it bloody awkWard to fill right up without splashing petrol everywhere. And worst of all there's no luggage kit as standard (so be prepared to shell out wads if you want the Krauser-developed 34 or 46 litre pannier kit - ours were a separate Nonfango system at ;£340).

It was halfway through Belgium when I came to the half-baked conclusion that the Yamaha is almost everything the ST is — but 15 per cent sportier. I stand by that now. While the ST remains, probably, the superlative long haul bike (assuming, if you're tall, you can live with your knees bashing against the fairing), the GTS, for me is a classier act. It just about equals the ST's comfort and prowess, yet offers a whole deal more besides. If the ST is the supreme long-haul bike, that's pretty much all it is - the GTS has a broader spread of abilities: it brakes better; it handles better and it's more attractively put together. And while it's not quite as protective, its engine quite as impressive or its range as great, it offers that great intangible - fun.

The rest of it is pretty much down to you. Which camp do you sit in? All I know is that the GTS, unsurprisingly, attracted crowds wherever it went while the ST, perhaps unfairly, plain didn't. It remains a superb machine, but its success and sheer efficiency has robbed it of charisma where the Yam still has plenty. And call me a romantic, call me whatever you like, but I still think it's charisma, character or plain loony, up yours fun, that sets motorcycles apart.