This popped up on my YouTube feed this morning. It’s a series of videos from a guy named Spencer Conway. I never heard of Conway before this morning, but his videos are impressive. It’s a series of videos about Conway’s circumnavigation of South America. I don’t think this is the entire series, or maybe he hasn’t finished the entire series yet, but I found these five and I thought I would post them here for you. Grab a cup of coffee, sit back, and enjoy!
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Hey, maybe you noticed, maybe you didn’t…but we’ve added a few new header images at the top of our blog. Gresh suggested we needed more motorcycle oriented pictures, and I agree with him. Gresh is smart that way. I never claimed to be the brains in this outfit; I’m just the good looks.
I’ll be adding more header images in the coming weeks, too. We’ve got tons of photos from our travels, and yeah, I like to show them off. The photos have to be ones that will crop to a 1200×280 pixel format, which eliminates most almost immediately. But I have a few that will work.
The way this header thing works is every time you visit the blog, one of six images randomly pops up. I could have set the header up so the images would scroll, but I did that when I wrote the CSC blog and I found it distracting (while you’re reading the blog, the header image keeps changing, drawing your attention away from the blog du jour). And I didn’t want to put a description directly on the image because I didn’t want it to take away from the photo, so I thought I would add a description here.
So, to get to the point, these are smaller versions of the header images, along with a brief explanation of each.
And there you have it. Like I said, we’ll be adding more header photos in the future, and we’ll tell you about each one as we do so. I shot all of these photos with my Nikon D3300 digital single lens reflex camera and its 18-55 lens, which is a very reasonably priced, entry-level DSLR outfit. I find the photos refresh my memory of the great times I’ve had on each of these rides. In fact, those pictures above are making me feel like getting out on an adventure ride again. Soon, folks, soon…
I’m back after a 4-day, thousand-mile ride through Baja on a Janus Gryffin. I’m well-rested, I’m warm, and I had a great time. It was a ride I’ll remember.
On our first day we rode up to Idyllwild on icy roads, on to Julian, and then to the border near Tecate. Wow, was it ever cold! On every motorcycle trip, there are those “Why I am doing this?” moments, and I had more than a few of those on that first day. We stayed in Pine Valley on the US side that first night, a wide spot in the road with one restaurant open that evening, the appropriately-named Frosty Burger with outdoor seating only. Nope, too cold for that. It was to be a general store with sandwiches and pizza that night, which we ate standing in the store (the place had no seating). We joked with the two ladies behind the counter. “I’m married, ladies,” I told them, “but my friends Jordan and Devin want to know if you’re single.” It was that kind of an evening. We were out in the world on a motorcycle ride, headed for Mexico.
We crossed the border the next morning and the Mexican immigration officer successfully pitched his homemade salsa to us. It was funny. I tried to imagine a US Customs officer examining my passport in LAX and asking “hey, have you ever considered becoming an Amway rep?”
The bikes drew a crowd of Mexicans at the immigration control point, and that occurred every place we went. Even folks with no motorcycle knowledge knew they were looking at something special. Those who knew bikes understood these machines even better. A Mexican gentleman about my age examined the leading link front suspension and said “Ah, like Montesa.” His knowledge of vintage Spanish motorcycles surprised me and I immediately thought of Joe Gresh (it’s a private joke, folks).
That day we stopped for photos as we rode through the Rumarosa Grade, and then it was on to the Mexicali bypass. We picked up Highway 5 south, and it was on that stretch that I really bonded with the Gryffin. I can only do that on a motorcycle with a soul. Some motorcycles have no soul and no character. But the Janus did. My good buddy Marty once bought a new Honda CBR1100XX, a bike with incredible performance stats. But he sold it after only a few months, and when I asked why, Marty told me it had no character and no soul. I realized as I rolled through Mexico at a steady 50 mph that the Gryffin was something special. It spoke to me. The burble of its CG engine had a good sound. The cold air felt less cold, and the bike just felt right. It’s not something that’s easy to explain. Some of you will know what I’m talking about.
I knew a taco stand I wanted to visit for lunch, but we were already out in the desert coastal plains north of the Sea of Cortez and I had not seen it. Maybe it closed since I was here last, I thought, or maybe I just missed it. That would be disappointing. Then, nope, there it was. It was to be our first meal in Mexico. I was hoping Devin and Jordan would like it. Some folks get Baja, and others don’t. I would soon know if these guys would understand Baja’s magic.
Jordan ordered tacos. I ordered a quesadilla, and Devin did, too. We sat at one of the tables in front of the counter, all outdoors, and I looked at Jordan. He was chomping down on a taco bathed in guacamole sauce. He nodded approvingly, savoring the best of Baja. My quesadilla was delicious. Devin took a bite of his and smiled. At that instant, I knew this was a great trip, one for the ages. These guys get it, I realized. Devin, who had said something about being a vegan at the start of our trip, abandoned all thoughts of vegan purity. Hey, it’s the 500-mile rule. We were outside the perimeter of all mortal regulatory constraints and anything went. Devin wondered aloud if he had time to order a second quesadilla. He looked at me. You bet, I said. Go for it. More Mexicans stopped to admire and ask us about the motorcycles parked at the edge of our table. It was fun.
We burbled further south on Highway 5. The bikes purred. There’s just something about a single that says all is well with the world. And all was that fine day.
Dinner in along the Malecon in San Felipe that evening was fun. It had grown cold again, but it was not the bitter cold of Pine Valley. We looked out into the dark over the Sea of Cortez, knowing we had been carried to this spot by our Janus motorcycles. We had Tecate cerveza, con sal, with a wedge of lime. Devin ordered a bowl of guacamole. Chips and salsa were before us. They say you truly know the limits of your self-control when the chips and salsa are in front of you. I had none (self-control, that is). It was a wonderful dinner.
“So how does it feel,” I asked Devin, “knowing that you’re riding a motorcycle you designed and built, being in a place like this?”
Devin smiled. “It feels good,” he answered. He ordered another Tecate, one of the life’s grand treats, bottled in a city we had ridden through just that morning.
We were up early the next day, and we were on our way diagonally across Baja to Ensenada. We owned the road; there were almost no other vehicles on Highway 3 that morning. The photo ops were great. The scenery was impressive. We stopped for fuel at a Pemex in Valle Trinidad. It was grand, as riding a motorcycle in Baja always is. We rolled on for 70 miles and entered Ensenada from the southeast. It was a heavily-littered area and the traffic soon grew heavy. We caught glimpses of the Pacific Ocean. We passed an intersecting road that entered Highway 3 at an angle at least 45 degrees steep. I wondered how any vehicle could make it up such a grade, stop, and then enter our roadway. Ah, Mexico. I love it.
We rolled into Tecate late that third night. The Janus motorcycle’s headlight is impressive; it did a much better job than I expected. The El Dorado hotel had no vacancies, so it was on to the Hacienda (a mile further up Benito Juarez Boulevard), and we were in luck. Dinner that night was Chinese food. Yep, Chinese food in Mexico. Chinese restaurants abound in Mexico, and they are excellent.
We were concerned about the next day, as the forecast was for rain. Up early again, we turned in our tourist visas at the Mexican immigration office (no pitches for salsa this time), and we cut through the K-barriers to jump the line to the US border crossing. That little trick took at least an hour off our trip, and nobody tear-gassed us for rushing the border. The US border control officer was intrigued by my motorcycle. I told him about Janus and mentioned that the founder was on the next bike. I think he found that even more intriguing.
Our ride home yesterday began with the mountains and twisties of southern San Diego County, and then we entered San Diego’s morning rush-hour traffic. It was the 94 to the 805 to the 15, and then a 120-mile drone north. Rain hit us just south of Temecula. We rode through 30 miles of it, we stopped to top off the bikes in Elsinore (yep, a Honda was named for the very same city), and a few miles further down the road the rain stopped.
That was our ride. Like I said above, I loved it. Even the cold parts and the rain. Those are the parts of any motorcycle trip I always remember. Time washes away the fleeting discomfort and it all blends together as part of the adventure.
So, on to the Janus motorcycles themselves. What are they like?
In a word, they are unique. They are vintage, but new. They target a special kind of rider. They are not for everybody and not everybody will understand what they are. But those who do….well, read on, my friends.
I’ve read comments about Janus on the forums saying they’re too expensive, they’re Chinese, Janus won’t last, you won’t be able to get parts, they’re overpriced, and on and it goes. There’s a behavioral science term for this kind of Internet forum negativity and nastiness: Online disinhibition. It means that folks say stupid stuff on the Internet they would never say in person. Couple that with the fact that a motorcycle is an emotional purchase, and you see some really wild stuff out there. Anyone with a keyboard and a connection thinks they are an expert on motorcycle design, manufacturing, procurement, service, and of course, marketing. My take on all of this? If ignorance truly is bliss, there are lots of really happy people out there.
As I said above, somewhere on the road to San Felipe I bonded with the Gryffin. It just felt right to me. The motorcycle had a gem-like quality, with the precise and exquisite feel of a Rolex wristwatch. The fuel tank is a work of art. The leading link front suspension has a hint of R69S to it; the bike doesn’t dive on braking (a benefit of this kind of suspension). The colors just flat work and they are elegant. The seat looks right (Devin apologized about the comfort level and he told me they have a new seat coming, but it felt okay to me as is). The frame is a deep gloss black. The rear rack works and it looks good. The switchgear was slightly different than what I am used to, but I became comfortable with the Janus layout quickly. The fit and finish are superior.
I know the CG engine well, having ridden many long-distance trips on CG-engined CSC motorcycles. It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of the CG engine, and the Janus bikes showcase the engine well. I know where the engine is made (China) and I know where the design originated (Brazil and Japan), but this vertical single has a distinctly British look. In fact, even though the Janus and nearly all of its parts are fabricated and assembled in Goshen, Indiana, the bike looks British to me. Not British as in Triumph’s Kawi-inspired multis or today’s Thai-built Bonnevilles, but British of the Cotton 650 single, the BSA M20, or Brough Superior days (and I realize as I type this that the naysaying keyboard commandos will have no idea what I am talking about). I like that early British look, and I think the Janus guys nailed it. Maybe that’s why I bonded with the bike. Cue in the theme music from any James Bond movie, with Sean Connery’s voiceover: Bond. Janus Bond.
I like that you can see the motor. It’s a motorcycle, see? You’re supposed to be able to see the motor on a motorcycle. You can see the engine on this bike. It’s the way God intended a motorcycle to be. Body work? Fairings? We don’t need no stinking fairings!
Here’s something else I like: The Janus folks don’t like chrome. That doesn’t mean the bikes have no shiny components (they have many), but when you see something on a Janus that’s shiny, it’s not chrome. In nearly all instances, it’s polished stainless steel. Made in Goshen, Indiana. That’s right here in the US, you know. Tell me again why you think $7000 is too much for this hand-built motorcycle?
About 25% of our trip involved riding in the mountains and that meant tons of twisties. The bike handles well, even with the weight I had strapped on the rear rack. Devin told me that I went through a corner with the motorcycle leaned over way more than he had ever seen. I told him I wanted to assess how the bike took a corner hard; I didn’t tell him I hadn’t been paying attention and I entered that corner way too hot. Trust me on this: The bike handles.
The Janus motorcycles excel in drawing a crowd, far more so than any other motorcycle I’ve ever ridden. The things are magnets. People know they are seeing something special, and once they get close enough, the Janus attention to fit and finish makes the motorcycles even more visually appealing. The closest thing I’ve ever seen to a bike attracting this kind of attention were the CSC Mustangs, and the Janus was even more of a magnet. Many folks thought the Janus motorcycles were restored vintage machines. We experienced this kind of attention at virtually every stop.
Look, I know you can buy a used (fill in the blanks here, keyboard commandos) for less than the cost of a new Janus. That’s missing the point entirely. I’m fairly confident that no one ever considered a used Sportster as an alternative to a Janus. Nope, this bike is for someone who wants something special, something different, something that is not made to appeal to the broadest possible market. I asked Devin if he and Richard Worsham (Janus’ other founding partner) did a market study before they introduced the bike. You can guess the answer. “No,” Devin answered. “We built the bike we wanted to build.” So, if you’re a person who follows the crowd, this is not your motorcycle. If you’re a person who makes your own decisions, though, then you’re in the zone here, folks.
About that $7K price: The keyboard commandos have said that’s too much for a 250. I don’t think so. Consider the BMW G 310 GS recently reviewed here on the ExNotes blog. That’s a 250-class bike made in India that goes for something north of $7K. Consider the Versys 300 Kawi. Same story there by the time you’re done screwing around with the typical dealer’s larcenous setup and freight charges. Yeah, there are other machines out there for less, most notably the CSC motorcycles with the same CG engine (the TT250 and the SG250). The CSC motorcycles are phenomenal motorcycles and their value is off the charts. They don’t have the look and the exclusivity of a Janus, though, and they are not made in America. Is that important? I’d say no, but a lot of people think otherwise to read their Internet forum comments (which they type, of course, on computers made in China).
Think about that for a second. Motorcycles made in America. Yeah, the Janus CG motor is Chinese. What’s your point? Nearly everything else is fabricated and assembled right here. Maybe it’s time for some of the naysayers and keyboard commandos to put their money where their mouths are. It’s not likely the strokesters would ever do that, but maybe it’s time they should. Me? I think what the guys in Goshen are doing is amazing. You have two young guys with a vision and a great team building motorcycles in America. Exquisite motorcycles with style and a unique character. Motorcycles that can take you through Baja and bring you back safely. Motorcycles with a soul. A motorcycle with which you can form a bond. What’s wrong with that?
Want to read the rest of the story? Please visit our Baja page for an index to all of the Janus Baja blog posts!
Jordan, Devin, and I made it home safe and sound today after four awesome days on the road. I’m beat. It’s been a fun ride. I have much to tell you about the grand time we had on these amazing machines, but I don’t want to do a half-baked job trying to write well when I can barely stay awake. It’s time to invoke the greatest labor saving device ever created…that concept we know as “tomorrow.” Wait for it, folks. It will be good, I promise. Thanks for riding along with us.
Want to read the rest of the story? Please visit our Baja page for an index to all of the Janus Baja blog posts!
Wow, we’re here in San Felipe, we just returned from a great dinner along the malecon, and yep, it’s still cold. I’ll have more photos than text this evening, boys and girls, mostly because I want to get a good night’s sleep. We’re staying in the beautiful Costa Azul Hotel right on the Sea of Cortez, and with that, let me get into a recap of the day’s ride.
One of the funniest things that’s happened on this trip occurred this morning. When we stopped for our Mexican visas at their immigration office, Devin mentioned he was looking forward to great salsa with our dinner.
“I make the best salsa,” the Mexican immigration officer said.
“What time should we be over for dinner?” I asked.
“You can buy my salsa,” he answered, and with that comment he paused in his review of our visas and pulled out a variety of salsas and other condiments. He arranged them neatly on his desk. Devin and I looked at each other, and then we looked at the immigration dude.
“They are very good…” he said.
“I’ll take one of these and one of those,” Devin said. Tourist visas approved, salsa in hand, and we were on our way. I can’t make up stuff this good, folks. That’s Baja for you.
So we were on the bikes, and our first big stop was the Rumarosa Grade. It’s breathtaking. Take a look at the photos we grabbed there on this cold and sunny day…
We rode east on Highway 2 and as we descended from the Rumarosa Grade, we found what we had been seeking: Warmth. It was still a bit on the cold side (and we’re riding with lots of layered clothing), but it was an escape from the frigid high-altitude air we had been riding through for the last day and a half. The warmer temps felt great.
We took the bypass around Mexicali, and we were soon southbound on Highway 5. That meant a stop for lunch at my favorite open air taco stand, and wow, was it ever good. Devin went back for seconds. It was awesome.
After our fabulous lunch we rolled across the upper Sea of Cortez plains. It was a glorious ride on a glorious day. Jordan was grabbing video and taking photos. Me? I was just enjoying the ride.
We checked into the hotel and went to dinner. Fish tacos tonight, folks. Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a motorcycle blog! All I’m doing is talking about food!
All right, one more. After dinner, Jordan and Devin stopped at a churro stand. The churros looked good, but I’ve got my figure to think about. I took a pass. That didn’t slow Jordan and Devin down, though!
And folks, that’s a wrap for tonight. Tomorrow we’re riding across the peninsula to Ensenada, we’ll ride along the Pacific for a bit, and then it’s through northern Baja’s wine country.
Stay tuned!
Want to read the rest of the story? Please visit our Baja page for an index to all of the Janus Baja blog posts!
It is bitter cold tonight and it was cold all day. I don’t know who the stronger troopers were today…the motorcycles or the guys from Janus. Think twisties, 200 miles, and temps just above freezing for much of the ride. Throw in breathtaking scenery and exhilarating riding, and you’ll pretty much have it nailed. That’s what our day was like. It was great.
It was cold when we left, and the Janus guys (Devin, one of the founders, and Jordan, their PR guy) had to have been exhausted even at the start of our ride. Their flight to California was delayed last night, and when they got in at 2:00 a.m. this morning, there were no taxis at the airport. It was a mile to the hotel. They hoofed it. With their luggage and their riding gear. Hard core, to be sure. And then, we were on the road at 8:00 a.m. Do the math, folks. These guys are hard chargers.
We climbed about 1500 feet just getting from Ontario to Beaumont on Interstate 10, but that was no problem for the Janus motorcycles and their CG engines. We purred along, we had a Beaumont breakfast in a small Mexican restaurant, and then we hopped on 243 for a twisting climb up to Idyllwild (Idyllwild is a pine-scented mountain village that sits at just over 6,000 ft). Yowsers, was it ever cold! How cold? We had to watch ourselves in the corners that were still in the shade, because the ice hadn’t melted yet. Yep, that’s how cold it was. And we rode through it.
We trekked south on California 371 and 79 to Julian, stopped for lunch (hot tea and chili for me), and continued our adventure south. Today was a twisties extravaganza almost all day. I’ll probably feel the g-forces in my sleep tonight…they were nonstop as we leaned left, leaned right, rolled off and then back on the throttle, and rode on some of the best roads in southernmost California. And yep, we saw that flock of wild turkeys along the 79 (about 150 of them; they were an amazing sight). It’s San Felipe tomorrow via Mexico’s Rumarosa Grade on Highway 2 east out of Tecate, and then on to Highway 5 south for the easy roll through the volcanic fields into San Felipe. It should be a warmer ride, and I can sure use some of that!
You probably want to know: What are the Janus motorcycles like? Here’s my take: They are exquisitely crafted and they are beautiful. Fit and finish rival anything available today (or at any other time). They handle well. The CG engine has a familiar feel to it, and it’s one I like. And to no one’s surprise, the motorcycles drew a crowd wherever we parked them. At breakfast and lunch we parked the bikes where we could see them, and folks could not walk by without stopping and taking photos. It was impressive. A young guy named Dave (who works at a Vespa dealership) chatted us up for several minutes. Dave knew about Janus but these were the first ones he had seen, and he made no bones about his feelings: He was impressed. My thought is that even folks who don’t know anything about motorcycles can instantly see that these bikes are something special.
Fun times, folks. Stay tuned…there’s more good stuff coming your way!
Want to read the rest of the story? Please visit our Baja page for an index to all of the Janus Baja blog posts!
By the time most of you read this, I’ll be on the road on a Janus Gryffin with Devin and Jordan headed toward San Felipe. It’s something I’m really looking forward to…a road trip on an exotic 250cc motorcycle in Baja. That’s a formula for a good time, any time.
I’m always a little apprehensive before a big ride and I probably will not have slept well the night before you read this. But I’m relaxed in the knowledge that as soon as the wheels start turning I’ll be completely at ease. I know I’m going to have an awesome time. And I know the memories will last a lifetime. It’s always that way. If you ride big rides, you have had these same feelings before, during, and after any adventure.
Yesterday afternoon was packing time. I always travel light. It actually takes more time to pack light than it does when you can just bring whatever you want. I’ve get a set of Wolfman soft bags I’ll pull off one of my other motorcycles, and I’ve got a Nelson Rigg tailpack I’ll use for carrying my laptop and my camera. I’m thinking I won’t need the Wolfman bags, as I want to get everything into the tailpack. A change or two of underwear, an extra pair of socks, my meds (all us old guys need our meds), my riding gear, and I’m good to go.
There are all kinds of riders in the world. I’m the kind that lives for big miles on rides that cross borders. I guess folks call that adventure riding, but I’ve been doing it before it had the label. Back in the day, we simply called these things motorcycle trips. My first one ever, when I was a college kid, was from New Jersey to Canada. You know what they say about Canada: It’s almost like going to another country. All kidding aside, that was a great ride. This one will be, too. They all are.
I love what Janus is doing, I know the CG engine is a classic stone-cold reliable motor, and I love riding in Baja. I know many of you reading this were alerted to the ExNotes blog by Janus’ Facebook posts. Thanks for joining us. If you’d like to get more info on where we are headed (and Baja in general), please take a look at our Baja page. Our ExNotes site has a lot on Baja, and that’s for good reason: It’s a great motorcycle destination. If you’d like to know more about San Felipe (our destination on the Sea of Cortez), please take a look at this “Destinations” piece I did for Motorcycle Classics magazine a few years ago. And for those of you who are loyal ExNotes blogistos y blogistas but you haven’t heard about Janus yet, please take a look at this awesome review my good buddy Richard Backus did on the bikes earlier this year in Motorcycle Classics magazine.
This is going to be a fun ride, my friends. Hang with us here on the blog, and you’ll be a virtual reality Bajaeno. One of these days, I hope our paths will cross on a Baja ride!
Don’t forget…if you’d like to get automatic updates on the ride and on future ExNotes blogs, please sign up for automatic email notifications on the widget you see here on the blog. We’ll never provide your email address to anyone else, and you’ll be eligible for a drawing for one of our moto-adventure books!
Want to read the rest of the story? Please visit our Baja page for an index to all of the Janus Baja blog posts!
It’s a go, and it’s going to be a grand adventure. In just a few days we’re headed to Baja with the good guys from Janus Motorcycles!
I’m excited about this trip. It’s four days and roughly a thousand miles, I’ll be riding with Devin and Jordan from Janus Motorcycles, and we’ll all be on 250cc Janus classic bikes. We’re hitting the best of southern California’s mountains and forests, Tecate, San Felipe, the Sea of Cortez, the Rumarosa Grade, Ensenada, the northern Baja wine country, and more. Fish tacos. Lobster burritos. Chilequiles. Birreria. Tequila (after the bikes are put away for the night, of course). It’s going to be grand, and you’ll be able to follow the adventure each day right here on the ExhaustNotes blog. We’ll be riding some of the most beautiful roads in one of the most beautiful parts on the planet, and you can bet we’ll be covered by our good buddies from BajaBound Insurance.
This will be my first ride on a Janus Motorcycle, and I’m very much looking forward to the experience. A classic lightweight British-styled motorcycle manufactured right here in the United States, powered by the iconic and bulletproof CG engine, on a run through northern Baja…this is going to be awesome!
Want to read the rest of the story? Please visit our Baja page for an index to all of the Janus Baja blog posts!
I’ve become a small bike guy. I rode big miles on 250cc motorcycles in Asia, South America, Mexico, and the US, and I’m naturally interested in any motorcycle of that approximate displacement. It’s no secret I was a consultant to CSC Motorcycles for about a decade and I was involved in the effort to bring the RX3 and the TT250 to America. There. Having said that, let’s move into the topic of this blog, and that’s BMW’s contenders in this class, their 310cc entries. They have two. One is a street-oriented bike (the R 310), and the other is more styled along the lines of the BMW’s bigger GS bikes (the G 310 GS). I examined both motorcycles and I rode the GS version. My good buddies at Brown BMW provided the bikes and answered all of my questions.
My intent here is not to do a direct comparison of the Baby Beemer to the CSC bikes, although the comparisons are inevitable. I’m not going to dwell on them, though. If you want to learn more about the CSC bikes, my advice is to go to the ExhaustNotes RX3-to-RX4 comparos, or go directly to the CSC website.
After CSC introduced the RX3 in 2015, the motorcycle world took notice. Three manufacturers subsequently entered the market with small-displacement ADV bikes. One was BMW, another was Royal Enfield, and a third was Kawasaki. The Royal Enfield is a 400cc single; I haven’t ridden it (although I understand Royal Enfield dealers give test rides; one of these days I’ll get around to riding one). The Kawasaki is a 300cc twin; I haven’t ridden it (Kawasaki dealers typically do not allow test rides). Gresh rode the Kawasaki when he was invited to the little Kawi’s intro and he did a video on it. BMW allows test rides (as does CSC), so I was able to ride the BMW. I know that Honda, Yamaha, and Suzuki all have 250 and 300cc bikes, too, but those are street-oriented bikes and they are not equipped for adventure touring. I don’t consider them competitors in this class. Basically, if you want a small ADV bike, it’s CSC, BMW, Kawasaki, or Royal Enfield.
Let’s get the heavy lifting out of the way first and tackle the gorillas in the room: Price and country of origin. Here’s the bottom line…the street-oriented BMW, the R 310, is $4950 for a 2018 model. That includes freight and setup; it does not include tax and documentation fees. The G 310 GS (the adventure version and the primary focus of this blog) is another thousand bucks at $5940 (again, that includes freight and setup, but does not include tax and doc fees). That’s with both bikes bare (no accessories).
Before continuing with the pricing discussion, let’s hit that country-of-origin thing. These bikes are built for BMW in India. Some folks might have an issue with that. I’m not one of them. I examined the bikes (the R and the GS models) and their fit and finish is top notch. I guess BMW feels that way, too, and they back it up: The 310cc bikes have the same 3-year, 36000-mile warranty as do the bigger BMW motorcycles. That’s better than CSC, Yamaha, Honda, Royal Enfield, and Kawasaki.
Okay, back to pricing and some of the details to get the bikes ADV-ready. If you want to add a tailbox to the R model, for the rack (which the R model does not include as standard equipment), it’s another $218, and for the tailbox, it’s $181. The Brown BMW parts guy told me that with the necessary hardware and taxes, the tailbox and rack come out to $457. The GS model comes with the rear rack as standard equipment, but to add the tailbox it’s that $181 figure. If you want to add panniers to the GS model, with the mounts and adaptors it’s another $709. If you want your baby Beemer GS to include a tailbox and panniers, you’re looking at adding roughly $900 to the bike. That brings the price of the GS model to $5940 plus $900, or $6840 (not including tax and doc fees). And that’s for a 2018 model. Prices are going up in 2019. I’ll get to that in a bit.
All of these numbers are for the 2018 model bikes. If you want to get a 2019 model, both bikes are going up another $750. That would put a panniers-and-topcase equipped 2019 model at just under $7600, not counting taxes and documentation fees. Refreshingly, BMW’s practice is to include freight and setup in the bike’s pricing and not leave that up to the dealers. The Big 4 let the dealers decide on their freight and setup fees, and, well, don’t get me started on that topic. Let’s just say that the way BMW does it is light years ahead of the Big 4 dealers in terms of transparency, honesty, and consistency.
Let’s hit a few of the tech features on the GS before describing the ride. The GS model has cast wheels (17-inch in the rear, and 19-inch in the front). There is no wire wheel option, which is surprising given the bike’s GS heritage. There’s an argument to be made for wire wheels instead of cast wheels for serious adventure touring. There’s also an argument to be made for cast wheels and tubeless tires. It’s a “Here’s your shovel, take your pick” discussion. BMW chose cast wheels. It wouldn’t be a deal breaker for me. I can live with either approach.
Both 310 models are chain drive, and both bikes use a single-cylinder, liquid-cooled, fuel-injected engine. The engine is sort of a vertical single (I say “sort of” because the cylinder is inclined 10 degrees to the rear). Body work obscures most of the cylinder, so it doesn’t look as unusual as it sounds. Interestingly, the intake and exhaust are reversed from what we are used to seeing. The fuel injector is in front of the engine and the exhaust pipe exits to the rear. (To go tangential for a moment, Mustang used this approach in their earlier models in the 1950s. Those bikes also had 300cc engines; the Mustang engines were originally designed to power cement mixers. Really. I can’t make this stuff up. You can read more about the early Mustangs here.) It’s interesting to see the reversed intake/exhaust approach on a modern motorcycle. You could make the argument that tilting the cylinder to the rear adds to mass centralization (cue in the Erik Buell theme song), but I don’t know if that was the logic that drove this design.
The little GS instrumentation is all digital and indicator lights. It’s a good display. I didn’t like the tachometer approach. It has a horizontal linear readout along the bottom of the dash, and I had a hard time seeing it. Having said that, I will offer a radical thought: I think a tachometer is superfluous on a motorcycle. It’s interesting to see how fast the engine is revving, but I never rely on the tach for shifting or anything else. If you need a tach to tell you when to shift, you have no mechanical empathy (a topic to be covered in a later ExNotes blog). But that’s just me, and like I said, I know its heresy in the motorcycle world. I didn’t check speedo accuracy with a GPS because the GS I rode was brand new and it did not have a cellphone mount.
I asked the Brown BMW sales manager (Tom Reece, a genuine good guy) about speedometer accuracy and he told me the speedo was optimistic, which seems to me to be the case on every motorcycle I’ve ever ridden. Curiously, though, the last four cars I’ve owned all had speedometers that were within 1 mph of the GPS reading. It seems to me the motorcycle industry would do well to steal a speedometer engineer away from one of the auto companies.
Both 310cc BMWs had a single disk in the front. It felt good to me. The bikes have ABS as standard equipment, and it’s switchable (you can turn it on or off from a left-handlebar switch). The other controls on the handlebar switchgear are conventional, including the turn signals (there’s none of the turn signal tomfoolery that you find on the larger BMW motorcycles). I did not see any outlets on the bike I rode for USB or 12V charging. Maybe they’re there and I missed them.
One potential negative is the oil filter location on both bikes. Both use a spin-on oil filter that is mounted low and on the front of the engine. Stated differently, the filter is directly in line with anything the front tire kicks up. I think that could be a liability off road, and perhaps even on road. My Triumph Tiger had a spin-on filter that was mounted underneath the engine (and mostly inside the engine, as the crankcase was recessed to protect the filter). I somehow managed to kick up a screwdriver with my front tire several years ago on the San Bernardino Freeway, the screwdriver penetrated the oil filter, and all of a sudden the rear end of my Triumph was sashaying around like an exotic dancer in a room full of big tippers (oil had sprayed all over the rear tire). The BMWs both have a skid plate of sorts, but it’s plastic and it looks kind of flimsy to me. I don’t think it’s the answer to crashing around in a field of boulders.
On to the ride: I didn’t put a lot of miles on the GS and it was all in town. The bike felt peppy, and it might beat the RX3 in a drag race (especially since the one I rode wasn’t carrying the added weight of the RX3’s engine guards, steel skidplate, topcase and bags, and windshield). On that windshield thing…neither of the BMWs has a windshield, although they both have black wind deflectors. Again, I didn’t rack up any freeway miles, but around town, wind was not an issue.
Both of the little BMWs had constant diameter (i.e., non-tapered) handlebars. I always thought that tapered handlebars were a little bit of a marketing gimmick, but I could feel a difference in vibration between the BMW I rode and other bikes with tapered handlebars. I am assuming the BMW engine is counterbalanced (and my research tells me the bike has a counterbalancer), but the vibration still gets through. Looking at my photos, I don’t see where the counterbalancer would be located (the conventi0nal location in the crankcase forward area appears to be the spot that mounts the starter motor). The vibration at higher rpm wasn’t offensive, but it was noticeable. At the end of a 300-mile day, it would probably be more noticeable.
The G 310 GS ride was comfortable. In fact, it felt good. The suspension is adjustable for preload only in the rear. There’s no preload adjustment up front, and no damping adjustment in the front or the rear. The bike comes with a tool for the rear preload adjustment. The GS has 7 inches of suspension travel at both ends. The GS’s seat height was a reasonable 33 inches, and I had no problem getting on or off the bike (nor did I have any issues when stopping).
To cut to the chase, the G 310 GS rode well and it felt secure. If I wanted a sensibly-sized (read: small) bike and if I was a BMW kind of guy, I’d have no reservations about owning this bike. And if I was going to buy a BMW, there’s no doubt in my mind it would be from Brown’s. I know and have ridden with both Bob Brown (the founder) and Dave Brown (the general manager), they are both great guys, and going any place else to buy a BMW just wouldn’t make sense.
After my ride, I had a ton of questions for the guys at Brown BMW, and I’ve included their answers in the above discussion. There were one or two other things I wanted to mention. I asked if there had been any reliability or service issues with the bike. Tom told me there had been a recall for a sidestand issue. Brown’s didn’t have any sidestand failures, but the Service Department made the sidestand mods to satisfy the recall. It happens. I’ve seen recalls for some pretty mundane issues on other makes, and it sounds like this was one of them.
The other question I asked was about the shop manual. Tom looked at me quizzically and then he told me they hadn’t sold a service manual for any of their motorcycles in years. I said at the outset of this blog that I didn’t want it to be a CSC-to-BMW comparo, but I guess this is one of the fundamental differences between the two organizations I need to mention. CSC gives its customers a free shop manual, they have online tutorials, and they encourage their customers to do their own maintenance. That’s an approach mandated by CSC’s path to market (they don’t sell through dealers). BMW, which only sells through dealers, makes it almost a requirement that customers rely on dealer service departments. It seems to be an approach that works for BMW, and the guys I ride with who have BMWs all say Brown’s service is top drawer.
I liked the 310cc BMW, and I’d have no problem getting on one and riding across China, or Mexico, or the United States, or India (now there’s a cool idea). I’d be a bit concerned about the lack of a shop manual, but that’s just me. If you’re a died-in-the-wool BMW type and you don’t want to do your own maintenance, I can see where this bike makes sense. I think that’s what BMW is relying on. Tom told me they sell the 310cc bikes to new riders and to guys who already own larger BMWs. Tom said younger guys stop by in their 3-series BMW automobiles, they see a $6K BMW motorcycle, and they think “hey, that’s not too bad.”
I think BMW views its 310cc bikes as an opportunity to introduce new riders to motorcycling (always a good thing) and ultimately, to upsell them to the larger BMW bikes. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I think BMW might be missing the boat. When I rode the G 310 GS, here’s the question I was thinking about: Would I travel big time on this bike? Say a trip down to Cabo San Lucas and back? The answer is yes. Where I think BMW might be remiss is they are not positioning the 310 as a serious long-distance adventure machine. I examined BMW’s website and I did a Google search on GS310 adventure rides, and not a lot shows up. The BMW website talks about the bike being good for around town and trail rides. I think it’s good for a lot more than that. Maybe the Bavarians are worried about cannibalizing sales of their larger bikes, but if I was BMW I’d be pushing the hell out of the 310 for real world adventure touring. The bike is the right size and I think it has the chops. Along those same lines, if I were BMW I’d be organizing 310 adventure rides to Baja, Alaska, and some of our great destinations here in the US. It’s an approach that sells motorcycles and pulls people into riding. I can tell you that from personal experience.
As you know, we published a series of blogs comparing the RX3 and RX4 motorcycles. Those have been widely read and we’ve received many comments from you, our readers. Thanks for that, folks.
My good buddy Chris offered a brilliant suggestion a week or so ago: We ought to compare the RX4 to the Kawasaki KLR 650, he said. That’s an idea that’s so good I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of it. Chris pointed out that I had owned a KLR 650, I rode it extensively both on and offroad in Baja and here in the US, and I was in a position to make the comparison. That makes sense. It also makes sense because since the RX3’s introduction, a constant refrain from the China-bashers was that you could buy a used KLR for what a new RX3 cost. That’s not true; used KLRs generally cost less than a new RX3, but that’s neither here nor there. It might become more relevant now that the KLR has been discontinued, because it won’t be long before the only kind of KLR you can buy will be a used one.
First, a bit of background. I bought a new KLR in 2006 and I rode it for roughly 10 years before selling it with 15,000 miles on the clock. That may not seem like a lot of miles for 10 years, but there were times during that period when I owned as many as six motorcycles, somewhere in there I took a year off to recuperate from a bad motorcycle accident, and after 2009 I was spending most of my seat time on other bikes as a consequence of my CSC association. But before that, a lot of my KLR time was in Baja and a good chunk of that was spent in the soft stuff.
Another bit a trivia you should know: I’m a big fan of the KLR 650. Kawasaki didn’t keep that bike in production for 30+ years because it was a turkey. The KLR 650 was (and still is) a great motorcycle. It makes way more sense for serious adventure riding than do any of the liter-plus/full-figured/stratospheric-seat-height litter of current offerings from Japan, Germany, Austria, and Italy. I say that with great confidence because when I was writing the CSC blog, I watched CSC sell boatloads of RX3 motorcycles (literally, boatloads) to guys who owned monster ADV bikes but were afraid to ride them off road. Big bikes off road just don’t make a lot of sense. Not to me, anyway.
Like I said above, my KLR was a 2006 model, which made it a First Gen KLR. There were basically two KLR iterations: Ones that burned a lot of oil, and ones that did not. Well, okay, I’m being a little sarcastic. The First Gen KLRs went from the mid-‘80s to 2007, and they ran well. In 2008, the great green Good Times Folks introduced a restyled KLR with a slightly-tweaked engine (those were the Gen II bikes, for which production concluded this year). A serious oil consumption problem ensued with the 2008 Gen II engine tweaks, which was subsequently corrected by Kawasaki. There were other minor differences: Reduced fork travel, a new dash, and the aforementioned-styling changes. And, the Big K claimed a fix for the doohickey issue (more on that in a bit). Other than that, the Gen I and Gen II KLRs are essentially the same motorcycle.
Don’t take my snarkiness as a dart aimed at the KLR. Like I said above, it was (and still is) a great motorcycle. I loved mine. And like I also said above, the KLR didn’t have a three-decade production run because it was a bad motorcycle. They are, in fact, great motorcycles. The question here is not whether or not the KLR is a good bike (it is); rather, the question is: How does the RX4 compare to the KLR? We’re getting there, folks, but let me go tangential a bit first.
So why did Kawasaki discontinue the KLR? Gresh and I wrote a couple of blogs about that and what might follow the KLR (see here and here). In my opinion, Kawasaki’s decision was most likely based on sales and profitability. Manufacturers don’t discontinue products when they are selling well and making money. Some of the self-appointed keyboard commandos filled the forums with opinions, one of which was that Kawasaki killed the KLR because it was carbureted. That’s pure Bandini, folks. CSC Motorcycles, Janus Motorcycles, and others get carbed bikes approved by EPA and CARB on a regular basis. Carbs are fine as long as the bike meets Uncle Sam’s and the Peoples Republik’s emissions requirements.
Okay, I guess that’s enough background. Let’s get to the main attraction of this piece, which is how the KLR and the RX4 compare.
As good as place to start as any is speed and acceleration. The KLR 650 and the 450cc RX4 have essentially the same top speed, which is approximately 100 mph. Handling at top speed is another topic, and I’ll get to that in a second. From an acceleration perspective (and this is all from Berk-butt-based impressions not involving the use of a stopwatch), the KLR has a bit more grunt on the bottom end, and the RX4 pulls a little stronger near the top end. The KLR, to me, felt more torquey at low rpm (and I liked that). When you consider the two bikes’ horsepower and torque specs (assuming what the manufacturers are telling us is accurate), the reason becomes apparent. The 450cc RX4 has 40.2 horsepower and 27.3 ft-lb torque, the 650cc KLR has 36 horsepower and 33.4 ft-lb torque. More torque means more bottom end (the KLR has more torque and a stronger bottom end pull), more horsepower means more of a top end rush (the RX4 has more horsepower and feels substantially stronger than the KLR above 70 mph; much of that is also due to the RX4’s better high-speed handling).
Okay, let’s talk about, and that bring us to the doohickey business. The doohickey is the KLR 650’s spring-loaded counterbalancer drive chain tensioner (a mouthful, I know). The Gen I KLR part was a cheap stamped weldment, and it had a tendency to fail (taking the engine with it). Kawasaki never admitted it was a problem, but they improved the part for the Gen II KLR engine. Folks who were serious about their KLRs replaced the stock doohickey with a much better machined part from Eagle Mike (a great guy who is a legend in the KLR community). I replaced the doohickey at the 500-mile service on my KLR (which I did myself).
It bothered me that Kawasaki became the Good Times Ostrich on this doohickey business. I have no doubt it was a genuine weakness. There are no known comparable weaknesses on either the RX3 or the RX4 (although admittedly, the RX4 doesn’t have the miles yet to really know). What I do know is that where there were issues in the first shipment of RX3 motorcycles, CSC stepped up immediately (and publicly). I was one of the guys who communicated with CSC customers, and if you don’t believe that, read the CSC blog and buy a copy of 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM. Kawasaki ignored the doohickey issue the entire time it existed. In my book, that gives a clear advantage to CSC and Zongshen. Yeah, I’m biased toward CSC. I admit that. But facts are facts.
Back to the motorcycles…another difference is the transmission. The RX4 has a six-speed gearbox; the KLR has a five-speed. That’s perceived as a big deal, I guess, by most folks. The reality is that five gears were enough for me, but I suppose six are nicer. Back in the day I rode a lot of motorcycles with four-speed transmissions and I never felt like I was missing anything. But it’s a difference, and on this count, the nod goes to the RX4. Also, the RX4 has a gear indicator on the dash; the KLR does not. Is that a real issue? Not for me. Maybe I’m conceited, but I kind 0f know what gear I’m in all the time. But again, it’s something the RX4 has that the KLR does not. Where there is a transmission issue that’s worth noting is first gear. On the KLR it is a granny gear; it’s way lower than second. All of the gears on the RX4 (including first) are closely spaced. I would have liked the KLR better if its gears were similarly closely spaced. On the KLR, when you drop the bike into first, it’s really throwing out the anchor. On the RX4, it’s just one gear down.
As a fuel-injected bike with a smaller displacement engine, the RX4 is probably the winner from a fuel economy perspective. The Zongers tell me that the RX4 will get 65.3 mpg, but I haven’t verified that. I’m guessing I could do better (I usually do better than the manufacturer’s claims). My KLR returned a measured mid-50s mpg figure when I rode it at reasonable speeds. From a range perspective, I expect the two bikes are about the same. I could get an honest 250-miles out of a tank on the KLR. The RX4 has a 0.7-gallon smaller tank than the KLR (but it’s bigger than the RX3’s tank by one gallon), and as mentioned above it will probably get better fuel economy. There’s that business about how much fuel the RX4’s tank will actually hold when you delete the volume occupied by the fuel pump. From my perspective, if a bike can go 200 miles, that’s good enough for me (that’s the stretch south from El Rosario to the next Pemex, just north of Guerrero Negro). I’m pretty confident the RX4 will do 250 miles, and I know the KLR will.
Let’s talk handling. On the street, in the twisties, and at highway speeds and above the RX4 is the clear winner. The KLR gets very light and drifty at anything over an indicated 75 mph, and it’s downright gangly when pushed hard in the twisties. You can go faster than 75 mph on a KLR, but I didn’t feel comfortable on my KLR doing that. The RX4, on the other hand, feels rock solid up to indicated 99 mph (and it had more left at that speed; I just ran out of room). In the twisties, the RX4 is in its element. The RX4’s stock CST tires are great, and the RX4 frame, forks, rear suspension, and geometry are modern. The RX4 feels way more planted and secure in the twisties and at high speed than does the KLR (so does the RX3). The RX4’s design is nearly four decades more advanced than the KLR’s. What I’m saying here is not a slam on the KLR; that old bike did pretty well for its 30-year run.
On the tire issue, I like the CSTs that come with the RX3 and the RX4. I get great life out of the CST tires on my RX3 (usually, 6000 miles on a rear tire). The Kendas that come on the KLR are, at best, 2500-mile tires. They hook up okay, but they don’t last long. I replaced my KLR tires with Shinkos and never looked back.
On the issue of consumables, I got good life on my KLR’s chain. I had good buddy Gerry throw a new chain on the KLR at 14,000 miles, but it didn’t really need it. I don’t know about the stock chain’s life on the RX4, but the stock chain on the RX3 is a substandard component that is toast after about 5000 miles (and that, to borrow a word made popular two years ago, is deplorable). Like I said, I don’t know if Zongshen addressed this on the RX4, but if the chain is from the same company that provides the chain on the RX3, I’d expect to replace it with a real chain either immediately or after just a few thousand miles. The KLR gets my nod for stock chain life unless Zongshen has addressed this issue.
One more note on the Kawasaki’s road manners. My Gen I had this monstrous Tupperware fender that was attached high and wide on the forks. It caught any wind blowing from the side and that had a tendency to steer the bike. I think it was also one of the things that made the KLR’s high-speed handling flighty. The Gen II design changed the front fender, but I haven’t ridden a Gen II bike. I don’t know if the Gen II’s redesigned fender made the problem go away. As I said earlier, the RX4 is much better behaved at high speed.
I have not yet ridden the RX4 off road, so a lot of what I’m going to say next is speculation on my part. But it’s informed speculation. I felt my KLR did very well in the dirt and soft sand. The KLR is heavy, but it has good bottom end grunt and more torque than the RX4. That allowed me to get up to speed and on top of soft sand quickly. The KLR’s 21-inch front wheel helps, too (the RX4 has a 19-inch front wheel, and in anticipation of the obvious question, I don’t know if a 21-inch front wheel can be fitted to the RX4). The offroad keyboard commandos say the KLR is a pig in the dirt. Hey, what do I know? I thought it did well when I was tear-assing around Baja. I don’t know the suspension travel on the RX4, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be less than the KLR. The bottom line: I think the KLR is the better choice if you are going to ride exclusively in the dirt. But then if you were going to do that you probably would not buy a KLR (there are other, better choices for dirt bikes).
With regard to standard equipment, there’s no comparison. The RX4 is equipped with luggage, better instrumentation, dual front disks, adjustable suspension, adjustable windshield, engine guards, 300-watt alternator, accessory outlets, switchable ABS, fuel injection, and that six-speed transmission. The KLR 650 has none of these things.
I had soft luggage on my KLR, which worked well enough, but I couldn’t lock it and it gave the bike a Beverly Hillbillies kind of look (not that there’s anything wrong with hillbillies). Some people like that look. I did at the time because it was a step up from bungee cords and gym bags. But that’s old school. The RX4 luggage is a huge improvement (both the stock bags and the optional aluminum bags).
From a maintenance perspective, the RX4 gets the nod. For starters, if CSC does what they have done for all their other bikes, you’ll get a shop manual and online maintenance tutorials for free. You won’t get that with a used KLR (and you didn’t get it with a new KLR, either). That means if you own a KLR you either bought a shop manual to do the work yourself, or you went to the dealer for maintenance. I’m not a big fan of dealer technicians for three reasons: Cost, competence, and honesty.
I believe the RX4 will be easier to maintain than the KLR. I don’t know this for a fact yet, but based on the RX3’s reliability and design I suspect it will be the case. The RX3 uses threaded adjustor nuts for adjusting the valves, and I’m guessing the RX4 will, too (I haven’t removed the valve covers on the RX4 yet). I know that the KLR uses shims and buckets; that approach greatly complicates the valve adjustment process. It involves removing both cams and it makes adjustments technically challenging and time consuming (which dealers and technicians love, because you get to pay for the time).
From a price perspective, a new RX4 will cost less than what a new KLR cost. And that’s before the typical Kawi dealer’s obscenely-bloated setup, freight, and documentation fees (it’s not unheard of for dealers to routinely add $1500 freight and setup fees). Folks, from the port to just about anywhere in the US, you can ship a bike for not more than $400, so the dealer shipping fees they put on their pricing sheets are twice (or more) actual cost. And their setup fees are pure, well, you know. Ask your dealer if they do the setup themselves or if they outsource it. Most dealers go with Door No. 2. Outsourced motorcycle setups typically cost between $35 and $50 per bike, and they are done by unskilled labor (not trained motorcycle techs). I know this because I’ve been an expert witness in motorcycle lawsuits, and this is what the dealers admit when they have to tell the truth during the discovery and deposition process. How much effort goes into setup and how well is it done? Let me explain it this way: When I bought my new KLR in 2006, the windshield fell off during the 5-mile ride home. It’s a ripoff of gargantuan proportions. I’ve never paid anywhere that much, but it’s what many of the dealers ask. It’s dishonest.
Back to that earlier keyboard commando statement: You can buy a used KLR for less than a new (fill in the blanks with any brand). Regarding used KLRs (which they all will be pretty soon), there’s no argument here: A used KLR will be less expensive than a new RX4. Duh. But then you’d have a used motorcycle with no warranty. If you want to go that route, someday in the near future you’ll be able to buy a used RX4, too. A used RX4 might be even less than a used KLR. I never understood the argument that posits you can buy something used for less money than new, particularly when it’s put forth by people with the same kind of conviction they might display if they had just discovered and announced that F=ma. It’s kind of like saying things fall when you drop them. The statement about new versus used is a dumb one. It’s obvious. Buy used, and it costs less. That’s true for just about everything on the planet (except maybe some guns). Like I said: Duh.
With regard to comfort, that’s a tough one. I’d say that’s a draw, with maybe the edge going to the RX4. I felt the ergos were perfect on my KLR. I also feel that way about the RX3 and the RX4. While I’m on that topic, I’ll briefly mention the RX3S (the 380cc twin from Zongshen with ADV styling and equipment comparable to the RX3 and the RX4). The RX3S had terrible ergos. My feet felt like they were scrunched up to my butt and my hips hurt as soon as I got on the RX3S. The RX3S might be a good bike, but with the current feet/butt/handlebars relationship, it was a nonstarter for me. To go tangential again for a second, I didn’t get the naming, either. The RX3S? Is that like a plural RX3?
Back to the KLR: The stock KLR seat is way too soft, which sounds like it would be a good thing, but that squishy seat gets uncomfortable quickly. I fixed that with a sheepskin seat pad, which I also use on RX3. The stock RX3 and RX4 seats (the two bikes use the same seat) won’t win any prizes for all-day comfort, but to me they are tolerable. The KLR 650 seat sits significantly higher than the RX4. When I rode my KLR, it was a tippy-toes affair at every stop (if you play for the Knicks, this won’t be a problem, but I don’t and for me it was an annoyance). The RX4 is not nearly as tall. I liked it better from a seat height perspective. It is slightly taller than the RX3 but lower than the KLR, and way lower than the GS1200 or those Special K giraffes from Austria.
Having said the above about seat height, I will tell you that the KLR was a bit easier for me to move around in the driveway than is the RX4. Kawasaki advertised the KLR’s weight at 432 lbs, which I know is baloney (mine tipped the scales well above that number). Zongshen advertises the RX4 at 450 lbs, and as you now from reading my previous blogs, I haven’t weighed the bike. Pushing the bike around in my driveway, though, the RX4 felt heavy. Maybe that’s just be the result of me being used to my RX3. But once I was moving on the RX4, it felt way more planted and it handled way better than the KLR (both in the twisties and at high speed), and it didn’t feel heavy at all. I can’t quantify the difference; I’m only giving you my impressions.
Fit and finish are unquestionably superior on the RX4. That’s not just compared to the KLR; that’s compared to any bike. Those of you who haven’t owned an RX3 may default to the typical China-bashing response. You know, the one that says: That-can’t-be-possible-it’s-made-in-China. But it is what it is. I think the finish on the RX4 is even better than the RX3. It’s very good. Little things stand out. The RX4 footpegs are nicely-cast aluminum affairs with rubber inserts; the KLR’s footpegs are cheap bent stampings with a rubber liner that wears out quickly. The RX4 has tapered handlebars and high-end switchgear; the KLR has a regular constant-diameter handlebars and cheap switches. The RX4 paint is world class (it’s deep and luxurious); the KLR used plastic with the colors molded in. The RX4 has a steel skid plate and engine guards as standard equipment; the KLR has no engine guards and a plastic skid plate. A plastic skid plate? Really, Kawasaki?
The windshield on the RX4 looks better finished, it’s adjustable, and it just flat works better than does the KLR windshield (and the RX4 windshield didn’t fall off on the way home). I know, I know, I keep coming back to that windshield falling off my KLR on the ride home from the dealer. It still pisses me off, even though I negotiated the Kawasaki dealer setup fee down from pure larceny to a much-more-modest profit contribution. What rubbed salt in that wound was that the KLR windshield mounting screws were lost when the windshield fell off, they were non-standard screws, and when I went back to the dealer they didn’t have them in stock. In my experience, that last part is a typical response from most dealers (you know, the not-in-stock thing). CSC stocks everything; that’s another plus for the RX4. While I’m on a windshield roll, there’s one more thing that I didn’t like about the KLR’s windshield. I went through five or six of the things over the life of the bike. They always developed cranks that migrated out from the mounting holes, mandating a replacement windscreen. My RX3 never did that, and I suspect the RX4 won’t, either.
Having said all of the above, I liked the looks of my First Gen KLR. Yeah, it was a Tupperware Titan, but I liked it. It was a tool that looked like a tool. It was utilitarian and honest. I think the Gen II KLR looked like Kawasaki was trying to put lipstick on a pig. I like my pigs to look like pigs. The Gen I KLR did and I liked that.
I already mentioned that the RX4 comes standard with USB and 12V power outlets, and underseat accessory plugs. The RX4 has a 300-watt alternator; the KLR alternator output is substantially lower. A funny story about CSC’s practice of putting 300-watt alternators on their ADV bikes: When I was looking at the RX3 in Chongqing back in 2014, I saw a police variant. I asked the Zongmen how the police versions handled the extra police equipment. A Zongshen engineer told me that they install 300-watt alternators on the police bikes to support the added lights, flashers, radio gear, siren, speakers, etc. Hmmmm, could CSC get that on all of its bikes? No problemo, they said. And thus the 300-watt CSC legend was born. The TT250 has a 300-watt alternator, too.
The RX4 instruments are the same as those on the RX3. While the info is more complete than on the KLR, lighting for the RX4 and RX3 indicator lights (the turn signal indicators, the high beam indicator, etc.) is too dim to read in the daytime. My good buddy Rob Morel has relatively simple fix for this problem; he removed the sort-of-translucent plastic layer between the lamps and the dash cover, and oila, now you can see the indicator lights. Zongshen ought to spec all of their bikes that way.
Neither the RX4 nor the KLR has a centerstand. Both bikes have tool kits, but both are laughable. The stock tool kits are the standard cheap items you get with most new bikes, if you get anything at all (my umpteen-thousand-dollar Harley Softail had no toolkit whatsoever, which is kind of funny if you think about it).
So there you have it. Chris, my apologies for the longwinded response to your question about the RX4 and the KLR. Thanks very much for the suggestion.
Having said all of the above, I guess the obvious question is: What would I buy? I wasn’t riding my KLR very much the last few years I owned it because I had my RX3 and TT250. I finally sold the KLR, but I miss the bike and like I said, I enjoyed it. If I had to make a choice, would I buy a new KLR or a new RX4? A motorcycle is an emotional purchase and an individual decision, and it’s a decision not usually based on logic. My belief is that most people buy a motorcycle that projects an image they want to see of themselves, which is why the industry has tended toward oversized, overpowered, and ridiculously-tall adventure bikes. KLR versus RX4? I don’t think it would be a mistake going with either bike. But I am convinced the RX4 is a much better motorcycle.
Want to see the RX3 versus RX4 comparisons? You can do so here.
Want to read about the RX3 and KLR adventures in Baja? Pick up a copy of Moto Baja!