I had been following posts on the KTM Super Duke when considering my next purchase and those riders were experiencing the same situation with petrol running out about at 90 miles (144.8 Km). Hell, like some others, the **** light came on at 87 miles (140 Km) on my last tank.
But this goes way back. I lusted for, what is called in this country, the Honda 996 Super Hawk, a decade ago and I remember European magazine riders reflecting love with much of that bike, but frustration with about exactly the same range.
My hat is off to those who want to tour with the T. I certainly understand wanting to spend as much time as possible with this fabulous machine. But, I sure wouldn't want the anxiety of crossing the western U.S. on it. Some of the exits on, say I-40, are almost 100 miles (161 Km) apart. Not all have fuel stops, last I traveled that way, and some don't run 24 hrs.
I'm having a hell of a time right now and the bike really suits me. I know that some day, these internal combustion engines with their idiosyncrasies, will all be something talked about with great passion but absent from the daily landscape. They will be out of the hands of all but the rich. Just like, ooh! smoking being banned from public places such as restaurants, the general population won't tolerate those dirty, smelly Akras loudly spewing petrol chemical fumes. Some people, probably the degenerate, genetic decedents of you bad boys and girls, may pay really, really good money to go to a ranch and ride a circuit for a few laps to experience what we so dearly enjoy right now. Every day! Long as the plastic holds up. Ah! It will be a kinder, gentler world cleaned up of T-Zone miscreants acting so selfishly; so irrationally.
Well, it will be better and I look forward to 500 miles on a fuel cell and bikes with even better handling and reliability across the performance spectrum. I can't wait for the noise canceling device that lets me dial in just the right amount of wind blast; for the invisible faring that's self-cleaning and lets me see all the interesting bits & pieces; and the little flashing amber pillion that universally signifys: "Females! Raise your hands if you need a lift (Not the face, Clara!)" . . . for the hard object, soft deflection sensorabillia that keeps one snug without a can on me head (yeah, not what you were first thinking: no need for that if you can handle a T!), negating the necessity of carrying a spare for my female passenger acceptance plan. Yah-da, Yah-da, Hooey Hooray, Ding dong!