Highway 395 closed yesterday just north of Bridgeport due to snow. I know that road well. I’ve ridden it a bunch of times and it’s a favorite, but wow, the weather can turn on a dime up there. Once you leave Bishop heading north, the elevation goes up abruptly, and in the next 30 miles or so it can go from cold to damn cold mighty quickly.
I once rode my KLR 650 up to Lake Tahoe on a press junket and the weather was okay. Moderate, not too cold, nice riding weather on the roads in and around Tahoe. The ride home was something else, though. Tahoe is pretty high in elevation and I dropped maybe two or three thousand feet coming down the mountain to Highway 395. That’s when the cold really set in. I had good gear on, but no electric vest, and the cold was brutal. I stopped at the Bridgeport Inn maybe a hundred miles down the road and went in for breakfast. Well, that’s not entirely true. I went in to warm up, and I wanted to just sit there for a couple of hours sipping coffee after breakfast. It worked, but it took a while.
You know, the funny thing is that another hundred miles or so south when I rolled through Adelanto on the 395, it was so hot I took most of that gear off. The temperature had gone from near freezing on the 395 north of Bridgeport to nearly 100 degrees down in the desert.
The KLR 650 was a good road bike and a great traveling companion. I rode it all over Baja and through a lot of the American Southwest. It’s gone down the road now (I sold it to a friend of a friend who may still have it). Good fuel economy, it could touch 100 mph on a good day, and the thing was just comfortable. The ergonomics were perfect for me. It was was one of the great ones.
I remember the bad weather rides way better than any of the ones with clear skies and moderate temperatures. That ride back from Tahoe will stay with me for a long time.
This flew into my mailbox last week from Kawasaki. I’m still on their mailing list (I purchased a new KLR 650 in 2006). I’ll let the video do the talking.
I had good times on my KLR. I don’t see another KLR in my future, but if the new model is as good as my 2006 KLR was, I think Kawasaki will do well with this motorcycle. Both Gresh and I had thoughts about what the new model might feature; you can read those blogs here.
If I were going to buy a new KLR (I’m not, but if I were), I would probably wait until the 2023 models were out. When Kawasaki introduced the Gen II KLR back in 2008, the 2008 bikes had oil consumption issues. Kawasaki had a recall (if I recall correctly) and they fixed the problem in the 2009 model. I think it’s best to let others work through the new model teething issues.
I’m guessing the full-freight new KLRs (luggage, ABS, etc.) will push $10K, which is roughly twice what a new CSC RX4 costs, and for me, selecting the RX4 over the Kawasaki would be a no-brainer. For that kind of money, you could almost buy a new Sportster.
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This is a blog that is sure to be controversial and elicit a few comments. It attempts to answer a very specific question: Which motorcycles are best for Baja?
As a qualifier, let me mention a few things up front:
Most of my Baja riding is on asphalt, and that necessarily colors my opinions. Yeah, there’s a lot of great dirt riding in Baja, but I am a streetster at heart. Your mileage may vary.
You don’t need to spend $30K on a Baja blaster. What good is driveway jewelry if you are afraid to get it dirty and if you’re constantly worried about where you parked? In Baja, a big, heavy motorcycle (ADV-styled or otherwise) puts you at a disadvantage. I am not a fan of huge displacement, tall, expensive motorcycles. For real world riding (especially in Baja), monster motorcycles are more of a liability than an asset. Even that new one that’s 20 years late to the party.
What I think you need in Baja is a comfortable bike with range. There are places where you can go more than a hundred miles between fuel stops, and you need a bike that can go the distance. That means good fuel economy and a good-sized fuel tank.
Luggage capacity is a good thing, but if your bike doesn’t have bags, you can make do with soft luggage. In fact, I’d argue that soft luggage is better, because it’s usually easier to detach and bring in with you at night.
With that said, here goes:
CSC’s RX3
Say what you want about Chinese bikes, and say what you want about smallbore bikes, I’m convinced my 250cc CSC RX3 was the best bike ever for Baja.
The RX3 tops out at about 80 mph and that’s more than enough for Baja’s Transpeninsular Highway (the road that runs from the US border all the way down to Cabo San Lucas). The bike is comfortable and it gets 70 mpg. The fuel tank holds over 4 gallons. I could carry everything I needed (including a laptop, a big Nikon and a couple of lenses, and clothes) in the bike’s standard panniers and topcase. I also carried tools and spare parts, but I never needed them. It was superbly well suited for Baja exploration, as I and more than a few others know. One more thought…before you pummel me with the inevitable “Ah need at least a thousand cc” comments, take a look at our earlier blog, Why a 250?
Kawasaki’s KLR 650
I owned a 2006 KLR 650 Kawasaki for about 10 years. I bought it new and I loved the thing. I think it is one of the best bikes I’ve ever ridden in Baja. Yeah, it was a little tall, but once in the saddle I had no problem touching the ground.
The Kawi didn’t come with luggage, but I bought the cheap Kawasaki soft luggage panniers and a Nelson Rigg tankbag and I was good to go (I didn’t need the obligatory KLR milk crate). Although the KLR was heavy, it did surprisingly well off road (especially running at higher speeds over the rough stuff), and I did more offroad riding with the KLR than I have with any of the other motorcycles I brought into Baja. It averaged 56 mpg, and with its 6-gallon gas tank, I could make the trek between El Rosario and that first Pemex 200 miles further south without stopping for fuel.
I’ve never taken an RX4 into Baja, but I’ve ridden both (the RX4 and Baja) enough to know that it would do well down there. Think of the RX4 as an RX3 with more top end, more acceleration, and a bit more weight. It’s got the luggage and the ground clearance for extended travels with some offroad thrown in, and it also gets about the same fuel economy as the RX3. Fit and finish on the RX4 is superior (it’s almost too nice to take offroad). The RX4 is a lot of motorcycle for the money. The pandemic hit our shores not too long after the RX4 did, or I would have seen more of the RX4 south of the border.
Genuine’s G400c
I rode Genuine’s new G400c in San Francisco, courtesy of good buddy Barry Gwin’s San Francisco Scooter Center, and I liked it a lot. It’s compact, it has adequate power, it has an instrument layout I like, and it’s a fairly simple motorcycle.
I think with soft luggage, the Genuine G400c would make an ideal Baja blaster, and the price is right: It rings in right around $5K. With its Honda-clone 400cc motor (one also used in the Chinese Shineray line and others), it has enough power to get up to around 90 mph, and that’s plenty for Baja. I rode a different motorcycle with this powerplant in China and I was impressed. I think this would be an ideal bike for exploring Baja.
Royal Enfield’s 650 Interceptor
Yeah, I know, the new Enfield Interceptor is a street bike with no luggage. But with a Nelson Rigg tailpak and Wolf soft luggage, the Interceptor was surprisingly in its element in Baja. Gresh will back me up on this.
We had a whale of a time exploring Baja on a loaner 650 Enfield (thanks to Enfield North America and good buddy Bree), and I liked the bike so much I bought one as soon as I could find a dealer that didn’t bend me over a barrel on freight and setup. There’s one parked in my garage now. The bike is happy loping along at 65-70 mph, it’s comfortable (although I’ll be the first to admit it needs a sheepskin cover on that 2×4 of a seat), and it gets 70 miles per gallon. I wouldn’t take it off road (except maybe for that 10-mile stretch to go see the cave paintings in the Sierra San Francisco mountains), but like I said at the beginning of this conversation starter, I’m mostly a street rider.
Royal Enfield’s 400cc Himalayan
I’ve seen these but not ridden one yet. Good buddy Juan Carlos, a great guy with whom I rode in Colombia, has gone all over South America on Enfield’s new Himalayan and he loves it (that’s his photo below). Juan knows more about motorcycles than I ever will, and if Juan says it’s good, it’s good.
I like the look of the Himalayan and I like its single-cylinder simplicity (come to think of it, with the exception of the Enfield Intercepter, every bike on this list is a single). 400cc, I think, is about the right size for Baja. The price is right, too. Royal Enfield is making fine motorcycles that won’t break the bank. I think the Enfield Himalayan would be a solid choice for poking around the Baja peninsula, one that probably has the best off-road capabilities of any bike in this list.
I’m sure I’m ruffling a few feathers with this piece, and I’m doing that on purpose. I’ve been taking pot-stirring lessons from Gresh (that’s him in the photo at the top of this blog). We’d like to hear your comments if you disagree with any of the above. Do us a favor and leave them here on the ExNotes blog (don’t waste your time posting on Facebook as that stuff will scroll on by and be gone; ExNotes is forever).
All the above notwithstanding, I’ll add one more point: The best Baja motorcycle for each of us is the one we have. You can ride Baja on just about anything. I’ve been to Cabo San Lucas and back on everything from a 150cc California Scooter to a Harley Heritage Softail cruiser. They’re all good. Don’t put off a trip because you don’t think you have the perfect motorcycle for a Baja adventure. Baja is the best riding I’ve ever done.
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I’ve done a lot of riding on a lot of different motorcycles in Baja. You can read all about that in Moto Baja!
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An new exciting thing is that Kawasaki brought back the KLR 650. A review of the Kawi info makes it look like the big change is fuel injection, along with a few other things (like digital instrumentation, accessory and USB outlets, higher alternator output, optional integrated locking luggage, and optional ABS). Per the Kawasaki announcement:
The all-new KLR®650 dual-sport motorcycle is built to empower your passion to escape and explore. Featuring a 652cc engine, new fuel injection system, all-digital instrumentation, disc brakes, and optional ABS, the KLR650 is ready and eager to make new memories. Dual-sport capability allows the journey to go on- and off-road with all three available models, including two special edition models that are equipped with factory-installed Kawasaki Genuine Accessories. With the KLR650, KLR650 Traveler, and KLR650 Adventure motorcycles, your next great expedition awaits.
This is good; Kawasaki is finally catching up to CSC’s RX3 and RX4 series of adventure motorcycles. Don’t get me wrong; I owned a KLR 650 (first gen) and it was a stellar motorcycle. One of my good buddies is still riding it. They were fabulous motorcycles; I hope the new one is as good. By the way, if you’d like to read our comparison of the KLR 650 to the CSC RX4, you can do so here.
Pricing, per Kawasaki, is $6699 for the base model and $7,999 for the fully-loaded model, with a Kawasaki-listed destination charge of $410. There’s no mention of the setup fee. But they do mention in the small print that the dealer sets the actual destination charge and your price may vary. You think? Mark my words…dealers will throw on a $1500 freight and setup fee on this bike. When you enter the green room, be forewarned: Having worked in the motorcycle industry, I can tell you that actual freight (what the dealer really pays) is well under $400, and setup on a KLR 650 takes under an hour. And as point of reference, when I bought my ’06 KLR 650 new, it was $5200 out the door. Let the good times roll.
Good buddy J, with whom I’ve ridden a lot, is selling his old KLR. I had to laugh when I read his ad, and with his permission, I’m printing it here for you to enjoy as well (and if you ride a GS, my apologies in advance). J and I have ridden big miles in Baja (those trips were on the CSC RX3 motorcycles), as well as northern Nevada and California in the Lake Tahoe area (we both rode our KLRs on that ride). They were all awesome rides.
Okay, that’s enough of a stroll down memory lane. Here’s the ad for J’s KLR:
2005 Kawasaki KLR 650 project for sale – $800 (DAYTON)
2005 KLR650 project for sale
$800
49,509 miles
Do you have big adventure-bike dreams but a very small adventure-bike budget? Have you got some basic mechanical skills, a strong desire to learn more, and a dry place to work over the winter? If so, this is perfect for you.
This is a Kawasaki KLR650. The OG adventure motorcycle.
Show up at any gathering of adventure riders on a well-traveled KLR and hold your head high. While a guy on a BMW GS has to put up with constant Starbucks jokes, when you ride a KLR you just climb on and go look for a good taco stand. In Baja.
I’ve done this. I rode this bike all the way to Cabo San Lucas and back. In winter. To a Horizons Unlimited meet in Mariposa. I rode it to Overland Expo in Flagstaff a couple of times and had a beer with Ted Simon. All of those were amazing trips. I want you to have trips like that.
The best thing about this bike is that you’ll know everything about it. Because you overhauled it yourself. Imagine sitting around the campfire, under a big desert sky, telling the story of how you brought this bike home, tore it down, put it back together, and rode it to somewhere awesome, far away. You need that experience in your life.
The bike has been sitting in my garage since June, 2016. I haven’t tried to start it since then. It ran well enough when I stopped riding it. I know the clutch was slipping under load. And the fork seals were leaking. I quit riding this because I got something newer that I liked better. I’m not aware of any major issues that aren’t easily fixed.
Somebody who really knows what they are doing could probably have this thing roadworthy in a few days. I don’t have the time nor the motivation to make that happen. So I’m offering it as a project, at a price much lower than I would ask if I didn’t just want it out of my way.
Clean title in hand.
First person who shows up with $800 in cash, and a truck or trailer to haul the bike and all the extra parts away, gets everything.
Farkles:
Progressive Suspension adjustable rear shock with remote adjuster
Doohickey done at Happy Trails headquarters in Idaho
Happy Trails soft panniers with waterproof liners
Happy Trails pannier racks
Happy Trails engine guard and highway pegs
Happy Trails engine guard bags
Happy Trails skid plate
Happy Trails rear master cylinder guard
Moose Racing handguards
Bike Master heated grips
Powerlet accessory power outlet on handlebars
RAM mount ball mount and double-socket mount
Sargent gel seat, needs to be recovered
Spare parts and extras:
New Shinko 705 front and rear tires, still in the shipping packaging
Slightly used Michelin T63 front and rear tires, lots of life left
New clutch kit, still sealed in the original packaging
New clutch cover gasket, still sealed in the original packaging
New clutch cable, in original packaging
New front and rear brake pads, still sealed in original packaging
Spare engine, needs to be rebuilt
Spare carburetor
Lowering links
Shortened sidestand
Clymer shop manual
You know, after reading that ad, I’m tempted to buy that KLR myself. But I’m in the same boat as J: I don’t have the time or the motivation to bring it back to life. But wow, it’s one hell of a deal and the Kawasaki KLR was one hell of a motorcycle. I had a lot of fun with my KLR, and I often wish I still had it. But it went to a good home, and good buddy Daniel is putting it to good use.
The ride J and took with a bunch of other motojournalists in the northern Sierra Nevadas was grand. The riding through that part of the world is about as good as it gets.
When the Transpeninsular Highway continues south after leaving El Rosario, it crosses a long bridge across the dry Rio El Rosario and then winds into the mountains on the northern edge of the Valle de los Cirios. The wilderness starts here, and it is awesome. I love this area. It’s the first place you encounter cardon cactus and the cirios. These things grow only in Baja (you won’t find them anywhere else on the planet). The Cardon are the giant cactus that look something like the saguaro cactus in Arizona, but the cardon are much, much larger. The cirios are the weird-looking thin shoots that grow to heights of around 30 or 40 feet (maybe even more). Someone once wrote that they look like a plant that Dr. Suess would have designed, and I think that’s a good description. They have this kind of weird, whimsical, goofy look…the kind of thing one might create when under the influence of, well, whatever your preferred mind-altering substance is.
I grabbed a few shots of our KLRs a few miles into the mountains. You can see the cardon and the cirios in the background.
After rolling along the highway a few more miles, I saw something out of the corner of my eye on the road. At first I wasn’t sure, and then as I was playing back the image mentally, I decided I needed to turn around and take another look…
Wow, that was one monstrous tarantula! We parked the bikes and started taking photos. This spider was easily double the size of the tarantulas I’ve seen in California.
John got down in front of the tarantula. He squatted to get a closer look, and then something wild happened. The spider ran straight at John. We were both shocked at its speed. They normally seem very deliberate and slow, but I have to tell you, that one moved terrifyingly fast.
John jumped up, screamed, and propelled himself backwards faster than a Democrat mistakenly wandering into a Trump rally. John was paddling backward so fast he looked like an old Warner Brothers roadrunner cartoon.
We both laughed after it happened. Here we were, two guys old enough to know better, screwing around with a ginormous tarantula in the middle of the Baja peninsula, laughing like a couple of kids. Baja does that to you.
I think I already mentioned that I had my Nikon D200 on this trip and an older (non-VR) 24-120 Nikon lens. I mostly shot at f/8 (the 24-120’s sweet spot) in the aperture mode, which is a mode that works well for me. I also had the 12-24 Tokina wide angle lens along for the ride, but I never even mounted it on the camera. The 24-120 is not a macro lens, but it did an acceptable job here. The Tokina lens does a good job, too, but the 24-120 Nikon was handling everything for me on this ride.
Our next planned stop was the Mission San Fernando Rey de Espana Velicata. We almost didn’t go. I had been spooked by the dogs, and I told John the night before that I wasn’t too keen on rolling through any more little villages with dogs. John waited awhile and casually mentioned that he really wanted to see some of the sights accessible only by dirt roads. I acquiesced and I’m glad I did. We saw some amazing things…things we wouldn’t have seen if we hadn’t wandered off road.
Further down the Transpeninsular Highway, we saw the sign for the Mission San Fernando Rey de Espana Velicata and a dirt road veering off to the west. I took the turn first, and son of a gun, a dog materialized out of nowhere and started chasing me. This time the dog was so small it was funny. It was a little Chihuahua, and he looked anything but threatening. The little guy was behind me yapping up a storm and I was enjoying the chase. Those little legs were pumping for all they were worth and he still couldn’t keep up. It was me, the Chihuahua, and John (in that order) rolling down this dirt road. The pup was struggling to keep up, barking all the while and trying his best to be intimidating. I could hear John laughing behind me. I should have grabbed a picture.
The Mission San Fernando Rey de Espana Velicata was the only one in Baja founded by the Franciscans (the Jesuits did all the others). It only lasted from 1769 to 1818. It was built to convert the local Cochimi Indians to Catholicism (that was how it was advertised; basically, the missions were labor camps with a touch of that old time religion). Unfortunately, the Spaniards brought diseases for which the indigenous people had no immunity, and disease soon ravaged the area. The entire mission system in Mexico ended in the early 1800s, when Mexico gained its independence from Spain. It’s not a pretty story, but there’s a history here and it’s intriguing to visit these ancient places (especially when they are well off the beaten path).
The place was amazing. I’d seen the sign and the dirt road to get to the mission on each of my prior Baja visits, but I had never been to see it. Getting there and taking it all in was fun.
After visiting the Mission San Fernando Rey de Espana Velicata, we rolled south along the Transpeninsular Highway a few more miles and took another dirt road (this time to the east) to see the ruins at El Marmol. El Marmol was a world-famous marble and onyx quarry 50 years ago. Like the mission, we’d seen the signs for it on our earlier travels through Baja, but we had never made the trip out there to see it. I always wanted to see what El Marmol was all about, especially after reading about it in several Baja references. Carole Lombard had a bathtub made from El Marmol marble, you know.
The ride out to El Marmol was exciting. The road was rough and had deep sand in several spots. My friend Bob had previously told me that the best way to take this stuff was at high speed, and that’s what we did. It made an enormous difference. I could see the rough road beneath me, but the KLR’s long-travel suspension let me fly over it. It was almost an out-of-body experience. I enjoyed it. I was in the zone, and suddenly, we were there.
We stopped for a break on the way out of El Marmol where the dirt road rejoined the Transpeninsular Highway. We had a good conversation with Jose, a police officer from Catavina who consented to a photo.
There were two dogs hanging around the place watching John, Jose, and me. They seemed friendly enough when John gave one of them a snack. Then we got on the motorcycles and it was as if someone had flipped a switch. The dogs instantly turned mean, snarling and going after John, who was accelerating sharply way (a relative term, to be sure, when you’re on a KLR). There’s a rule in Mexico, I guess. If you’re a dog and you see a guy on a motorcycle, you’ve got a reputation to maintain. This time, though, both dogs went after John and ignored me. They chased John all the way back to the highway, with me following. Hey, that’s was okay by me. I’d already earned my combat pay.
The dogs chasing John, though, didn’t seem to have their hearts in it. They were chasing John like it was part of their job description and the boss was watching. Going through the motions. Phoning it in. You know the drill.
I thought about that as we continued south. I reasoned and hoped that as went further into Mexico (and we were about 350 miles into Baja at this point), the dogs might be nicer. Our next destination was Guerrero Negro, 500 miles south of the border. We would soon find out.
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When I left off with the last post about our 2009 KLR Baja trip, I had a dog hanging onto my leg on a dirt road just north of San Jacinto. It was terrifying, and what I was mostly scared of was that the thing might have managed to sink its teeth into me. If that had happened, there was no question but that I would have to undergo the rabies shots. In order to avoid doing that, I’d either have to know that it hadn’t penetrated my leg or I’d have to kill the dog and get its head to a lab to be tested for rabies (gruesome, I know, and don’t ask me how I know about such things). That second option wasn’t going to happen, and in any event, I had no idea where I could go in Baja to get the head tested. Nope, all my bets had to be on no penetration, or I’d have to go for the abdominal rabies shots.
When the dog finally released its grip, John and I slid to a stop a half mile further down the road and I frantically stopped to check my leg. I didn’t know if the thing had actually bitten me or if it had just got a mouth full of denim and boot leather. I didn’t feel the dog’s teeth penetrate me, but I was too adrenalized to feel anything.
It’s a good thing we were out in the boonies, and it’s a good thing no one was there to see what happened next. And what that was, well, let’s just say it was picturesque. It was me frantically undoing my motorcycle pants, and then my blue jeans, and dropping both, with John kneeling in front of me to look for bite marks. Anyone seeing this might get the wrong idea. I know, we’re close, but not that close.
I checked my leg and I didn’t see any bite marks. John examined me and it was official: I was unharmed. Had I not been wearing boots and my motorcycle pants, that probably would not have been the case. All the gear, all the time. It’s an adage that holds true. Dodged a bullet, I did.
So, toothmark-and-rabies-free, we rolled past another little cluster of dwellings, made a sweeping right turn as the dirt road followed the coast, and there it was…
We hung out by the Isla Del Carmen for a while and I took a bunch of photographs. The Isla Del Carmen sank right off the San Jacinto coast during a storm in 1984. I’d seen the wreck in another photograph, and now I was seeing it in person. It was awesome being there.
I like these photos, partly because of what we had gone through to get them (the rough roads and the canine assault), but mostly because it was a shot I had framed in my mind before we arrived and the actual photos turned out better than I had imagined. Indulge me. I’ll show you a few.
After spending a while taking photos, we took the direct route out of San Jacinto heading east. It was another sandy dirt road, but it was hard packed and it ran relatively straight to the Transpeninsular Highway north of Camalu.
We stopped in Camalu for lunch. John and I opted for the chicken fajitas at the Las Brisas, a small restaurant, and our mid-day meal was amazing. Octavio, the owner and chef extraordinaire, took good care of us. We had a two-hour lunch, and we spent a lot of that time chatting with Octavio. It was fun.
We got as far as El Rosario that second night, and we stayed in the El Sinahi hotel. It was an inexpensive, no-frills kind of place (exactly what I like in Baja).
We ate at a restaurant adjacent to the El Sinahi, and it was great. I don’t think it had a name, other than “Restaurant.” It didn’t need one. It was wonderful. You know, folks tell me I spend a lot of time talking about the cuisine in Baja. Guilty as charged. I love that aspect of exploring the peninsula. I guess there are bad restaurants in Baja. In 30 years of exploring the place, though, I haven’t found them.
I didn’t know it yet, but the rear window to my El Sinahi hotel room faced a neighbor’s yard. A neighbor with roosters. Lots of roosters. The kind that start cock-a-doodle-doodling at 4:30 a.m. Right into my window.
I had visions of making rooster fajitas, but I decided not to. Truth is, those things sounded so strong I didn’t know if I could take them in a fight.
There’s another abandoned mission west of El Rosario about three miles down a dirt road that winds through more small villages. We tried to find it that next morning, but we couldn’t. While rolling down that road, we encountered more Mexican dogs, and sure enough, the dogs came after us again. We outran them that time. We could have poked around longer trying to find the mission, but the dogs unnerved me. I reckoned that we had gone far enough to pass where the mission should have been, we never saw it, and I turned around. On our return through the area where the dogs chased us, we blitzed by at 60 mph. No dogs, no bites, and no problems.
Ah, but the day was just starting. A little further down the Transpeninsular Highway, in Baja’s Valle de los Cirios, we would be chased yet again. But this time, it would be by a titanic tarantula. But that’s a story for the next installment of our Baja KLR Khronicles.
This is a story about a 2009 Baja KLR ride. In Part I, we covered the ride from southern California to Rosarito Beach.
The breakfast at Velero’s in Ensenada was impressive (it always is), and it was a glorious morning as we rolled south.
We had several offroad explorations in mind as we rode deeper into Baja that morning, but our first stop was at a farmacia. I like Mexican pharmacies. Here in the US in 2009, all the stories in the news media were about the drug wars in Mexico. Right church, wrong pew, as they say: The US news media had the wrong story. The real drug story in Mexico was (and still is) how cheap prescriptions are down there. You don’t need a prescription in Mexico for many of the drugs that require prescriptions in the US (like penicillin, and prednisone, and Lord knows what else), and meds are trivially inexpensive. The drugs are the same as what we get in the US (literally, the same, from the same US manufacturers in many cases). I wish our so-called “investigative journalists” would write an expose on that topic, but they were too focused in 2009 on killing the tourism industry in Mexico with distorted news about the drug wars. Go figure.
We continued south on the Transpeninsular Highway. There’s about a dozen miles of traffic leaving Ensenada, and then Baja switches suddenly from squalor to splendor as the road climbs into the mountains and descends into Baja’s wine country. It really is spectacular. If you’ve never made this ride, or if you’re idea of going into Mexico is TJ or Ensenada, you need to venture further south to start to get a feel for the real Baja. Trust me on this.
Ah, Baja. It was beautiful. It always is.
Our first excursion in the dirt would be to the abandoned mission in San Vincente, well into the desert and well south of mountains. We saw a sign for the mission and took a dirt road heading west from the Transpeninsular Highway. As it turned out, there was a lot more out there than just an abandoned mission.
We first saw a building we initially mistook for the mission. It was a private home (one of several). We were stunned. The homes were magnificent, tucked away in the hills down a rough, soft sand road. I’d been by San Vincente on many prior Baja rides, but I had no idea the hills held such secrets.
We saw a young lady and asked her for directions to the mission. She pointed and told us to go over a hill. We did, and the first thing we found was a well-maintained rural cemetery.
There was something about the cemetery that was simultaneously captivating and tranquil. It seemed to come from another era, and after reading the headstones we saw that it did. It was meticulously maintained. It’s always nice to see that.
After the cemetery, we found the San Vincente Mission. The local folks are restoring it. I’d seen signs for the mission on the Transpeninsular Highway, but this is the first time I’d ventured off the asphalt to see it. John and I were the only folks out there that day.
The San Vincente Mission was built about 300 years ago. It’s one of several that run the length of the Baja peninsula. I’ve been to several, and a few are still working churches. What’s left of the San Vincente Mission is not.
We rode through the soft sand back toward the Transpeninsular Highway to the town of San Vincente’s contemporary church (which is visible from the highway). It offered great photo opportunities and we took a bunch. We wanted to enter the church, but it was locked.
It was fun being out in these remote areas on the KLRs. The experience was a lot different than seeing Baja from pavement only, and John and I were enjoying it. I’m normally not a guy who likes riding dirt, but John had talked me into getting off the highway and I’m glad he did.
Shortly after leaving San Vincente, it was time to check off another item on our wish list, and that was seeing the Isla Del Carmen shipwreck. I wanted to see it, but I didn’t know exactly where the wreck was other than that it was somewhere off the coast near San Jacinto, so we took another dirt road due west for about 8 miles and hit the Pacific coast. Our plan was to intersect the coast several miles north of San Jacinto, follow it south, and find what was left of the Isla Del Carmen.
The dirt road along the coast was rough, and I’m being charitable when I call it a road. It was mostly soft sand. At one point the sand was so deep it was nearly impossible to control the KLR, so I wrestled the Kawasaki up into the weeds. It was a marginal improvement. I couldn’t see where the wheel was going, but at least the sand wasn’t calling the shots anymore. And before you tell me the trick is to get up to speed and float on top of the soft stuff, all I can say is hey, I was there. You weren’t.
Then we encountered something we hadn’t expected: Dogs. A pack of dogs, actually. And they were pissed. At us.
Well, that’s not quite accurate. Their anger was focused on me. Specifically, me. At least that’s how I felt.
In California, you almost never see a dog off a leash. In rural Mexico, you almost never see a dog on a leash. Those things are aggressive, too. We were chased by more dogs on this trip than I have been chased by in my entire life. They weren’t just interested in scaring us or getting a good laugh. Those things wanted us for dinner. Or rather, they wanted me for dinner. I’ll tell you more about the angry dogs of Baja as this story progresses, but one dog story at a time for now. And this one was enough.
I don’t like dogs. I was mauled pretty badly by one when I was kid, and I still have the scars to prove it. I know that those of you who have taken the Motorcycle Safety Foundation course or who have read about such things are thinking that being chased by a dog is no big deal. I know about slowing down, letting the dog calibrate his intercept based on your reduced speed, and then accelerating to confuse the cantankerous canine. That works on pavement if there is one dog. Try doing it in soft sand when there’s pack of four or five that are fanned out along your flank. In that situation, you are not just a motorcyclist. You are a potential meal. And that was the situation I found myself in that fine Baja afternoon.
We were approaching a rinky-dink little fishing village, eyeballing the coast for the shipwreck, when the pack of dogs came after me. I think it might have been my green fluorescent riding jacket. Maybe they had an unhappy childhood. Maybe someone unfriended them on Facebook. Who knows. Whatever the reason, they were snarling and spitting and literally smacking their jaws as I tried to fool them with the slow-down-speed-up maneuver. In soft sand. Trying to keep the motorcycle vertical. Wondering what the hell I was doing down there.
Then it happened. One of the dogs got me.
I felt him crash into my right leg, and when I looked down, the thing had clamped down on my motorcycle pants just above my ankle. The dog was literally being dragged along for what seemed like an eternity. It locked eyes with me, and if there’s such a thing as telepathic communication, or maybe interspecies body language, the dog’s eyes said it all. It was not a pleasant message in either direction. The dog might have thought I was a sonofabitch; I had no doubts about him being one. I’ve known some SOBs in my life, but this bastard was the real deal. I didn’t feel any pain, but that’s normal in a traumatic situation. I didn’t know if the dog’s teeth broke the skin around my ankle, but I knew what it would portend if it had.
“Not good,” I thought.
I could see it all the while that miserable sonofabitch was clamped down on my leg, as he was being pulled along at 30 mph. What I saw was me making a beeline for the border to get medical treatment. Rabies shots, and who knows what else.
To be continued…
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In October 2009 it had been a year since my last motorcycle trip in Baja, and that was entirely too long. I was good to go, but most of the guys I hung out with here in So Cal were timid. They believed what they read in the LA Times. You know, about Mexico being dangerous. Me? I knew better. I needed to get my knees in the Baja breeze. My good buddy Baja John felt the same way.
My first journey into Baja was with John back in 1994, and it would be good to ride with him again. Our earlier trips were on cruisers…John on a Viagra (spelling intentional) and me on a Harley. We’d both be riding Kawasaki KLR 650s this time. I bought one, and after listening to me rave about it, so did John.
Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with a Yamaha Virago, and if driveway jewelry is your thing, there’s nothing wrong with a Harley (Harleys are the world’s most efficient machines for converting gasoline to noise and self-perceived status upgrades, you know). But the KLR 650s…those were real motorcycles. No pretense, all business. I wish I had kept my KLR. I let the guy who bought it know that I’ll but it back. But that will be a story for another time.
The plan for this trip was to explore places off the Transpeninsular Highway. On previous trips, we’d seen signs pointing down rough dirt roads to the ruins of various abandoned Spanish missions, the marble quarry at El Marmol, and a few other places promising adventure. On those prior trips we quite appropriately opted not to take our cruisers down those gnarly dirt roads. This time, though, we had the right bikes and we would go wherever we wanted. Dirt? Soft sand? Mud? Banditos? Rabid dogs? Hey, bring it all on. We were ready.
So, here we go.
John rode south from Tehachapi to meet me near the Cal Poly campus, and we left late on a Thursday afternoon (John worked his job at Palmdale AFB, and I taught that day at Cal Poly).
We made it to Rosarito Beach Hotel that first night, my favorite hotel in that town. It’s a classy joint with a great restaurant, but the adverse publicity and overall economic climate in 2009 were killing the place. Think unending stories about drug wars and purported lawlessness in Mexico, and the worldwide Great Recession. My guess is that fewer than 10 rooms were occupied that evening.
Our plans for this trip were purposely vague, other than to head south and consume large quantities of Tecate after the bikes had been put away. We briefly talked about doing a banzai run all the way to Cabo San Lucas, but that would have been a push. It was already dark when we passed through Tijuana, and south of TJ, the Pacific Ocean mist was fogging my faceshield. I thought about Susanna’s restaurant in Rosarito (more on that in a bit), and all thoughts of Cabo vanished. For that night, Rosarito Beach was it. And that was a good thing. I love having dinner in Susanna’s. Susanna’s is the best restaurant in town, and maybe the best in all of Mexico. A stay in Rosarito Beach without dinner at Susanna’s would be a crime against nature and good judgment.
After a five-star dinner, Baja John and I walked around downtown Rosarito Beach for a bit. It was deserted.
The next morning we rolled south along the Pacific coast to a great breakfast in Ensenada. Good God, we were packing on the calories. My favorite breakfast spot in Ensenada is Velero’s, a place near the ocean just behind the Corona Hotel. The clientele is mostly local business folks, the breakfasts are great, and it’s the hot ticket. They bring a large plate of light, delicious pastries as soon as you sit down. The coffee and the orange juice are superior. That’s followed by a tortilla with melted cheese and salsa. I could have (and should have) stopped at the pastries and the cheese tortilla, but I went for my customary two eggs over hard with the fixings you see below. It was as good as it looks.
After a great breakfast, we were on the road again, headed south out of Ensenada toward points south, including the aforementioned abandoned missions, a shipwreck on the Pacific coast, and more.
To be continued…
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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!