I always liked how that Husqvarna svartpilen 801 looks but never got hands-on until last weekend. Friend of mine parks his at my garage cause he’s traveling for a month. Perfect chance to fiddle with this Nordic beast properly.
First thing I did was drag it under sunlight cause that matte black paint swallows details in shadows. Started snapping photos from every angle – phone camera ain’t professional but gets the job done. You notice things up close like weld seams near exhaust that glossy bikes hide better.
Cold Morning Fumble
Woke up early Saturday determined to test ride before traffic hits. Keys rattled when I pulled ’em out nervous-like. Engine fired up angry with that parallel twin growl vibrating through handlebars. Forgot how twitchy these naked bikes feel when cold! Stalled twice backing out the driveway while neighbors glared through windows.
- Took 15 minutes just getting used to throttle
- Clutch bites higher than my old Honda
- Mirrors shake bad past 60 mph
Had to loop around the industrial park twice before heading towards the lake route.
Tools & Tweaks
After breakfast I started poking at mods. Previous owner added cheap bar-end mirrors that wobble like jelly. Dug through my toolbox finding proper hex keys to rip those off. Nearly stripped a screw head forcing it – swear words echoed in garage for sure. Ended up wrapping pliers with electrical tape to grip tighter.
Then discovered the tail tidy kit rattling loose underneath. This stuff happens when people DIY without threadlocker.
- Wiped all bolts with isopropyl alcohol first
- Blue loctite on everything except exhaust mounts
- Checked chain slack twice cause paranoia
Test ride after fix confirmed no more death rattle sounds at red lights. Felt smug for bout two minutes till I noticed oil smudge on the header pipe. Wasted another half hour scrubbing it.
Realization Phase
By Sunday afternoon I’m realizing why people call these “boutique bikes.” Beautiful? Hell yes. Practical for daily commute? Not so much. That gorgeous trellis frame collects road grime like a magnet. Seats harder than cafeteria benches after an hour. Plus finding parts takes three times longer than Japanese models.
Still grinning ear to ear when blasting backroads though. Something about that torquey engine makes mundane roads feel like a race track. Would I buy one? Maybe. If I had space for two bikes and deeper pockets. But man, it’s damn fun to borrow!
