Zero Motorcycles has released its first new model since 2016, the 2020 SR/F, and with its streetfighter look and steel trellis frame it’s blurring the styling lines between gas and electric motorcycles.
The SR/F, powered by a new ZF75-10 IPM (Interior Permanent Magnet) motor and ZF14.4 lithium-ion battery, delivers a claimed 140 lb-ft of torque and 110 horsepower. Go ahead and read that again. Yes, that’s more torque than any of today’s top-of-the-line 1,000cc superbikes, and it beats Zero’s own personal best of 116 lb-ft and 70 horsepower, as seen on the 2019 DSR we reviewed last November.
With twist-and-go operation and no transmission, Zero’s controller quickly doles out power in a smooth, linear fashion all the way up to the peak, with response, power and regen (battery regeneration and “engine braking” function) regulated via Street, Sport, Eco, Rain and up to ten additional custom riding modes. The SR/F is also the first electric motorcycle to be integrated with a Bosch Motorcycle Stability Control (MSC) system, which works with the SR/F’s Cypher III operating system to optimize cornering ABS, traction control and drag torque control.
Zero says the SR/F is the first fully “smart” motorcycle thanks to the Cypher III system, which now offers comprehensive rider connectivity. SR/F owners can monitor the bike in four ways:
Bike Status and Alerts – This includes tip-overs or unexpected motion notifications, plus interruptions in charging. In addition, the “Find my Bike” function allows the rider to keep tabs on the SR/F at all times.
Charging – The rider can remotely set charging parameters, including targeted charge levels, charge time scheduling, charge tracking and more.
Ride Data Sharing – The SR/F records bike location, speed, lean angle, power, torque, charge level and energy used/regenerated, and riders can replay and share the experience via the app. Riders also have the option to keep this data anonymous.
System Upgrades and Notifications – Riders can remotely download Cypher III OS updates to stay up to date and ensure optimal performance.
Battery life and charging time are two of the most important concerns in this early stage of electric motorcycle development, and as the newest Zero product the SR/F seems to be showing steady improvement. Despite the massive increases in power and torque, claimed range from the standard battery (without the optional Power Tank installed) is 161 miles (city), 82 miles (highway, 70 mph) and 109 miles (combined). This is roughly equivalent to the less-powerful DSR we tested in November.
The SR/F, like all Zero electric motorcycles, can be plugged into a standard 110V wall outlet to charge the battery, but it’s the first to come standard with a Level 2 Rapid Charger. So while you could plug it into a wall, using a Level 2 station will net serious reductions in charge time.
The standard SR/F, which retails for $18,995, comes with a 3.0 kW Rapid Charger that Zero says will charge to 95 percent in 4 hours, and to 100 percent in 4.5 hours. The premium SR/F, which also comes with heated grips, a fly screen and aluminum bar ends, is equipped with a 6.0 kW Rapid Charger that charges to 95 percent in 2 hours, and to 100 percent in 2.5 hours. It retails for $20,995. Both models can also be upgraded with another 6.0 kW Rapid Charger that drops charge time (to 95 percent) to as little as one hour.
Both SR/F models are available in two colors, Seabright Blue and Boardwalk Red, and will be available in dealers this spring.
The year was 1963 and American Honda, which opened its doors in Los Angeles barely four years prior with eight employees, wanted to change the way car-loving Americans saw motorcycles. When Honda came to the United States in 1959, fewer than 60,000 motorcycles were sold here annually, with most of those being domestic and European models larger than 500cc.
Dealers were skeptical of this bold, upstart new Japanese company, essentially telling 39-year-old General Manager Kihachiro Kawashima, “Good luck, but you’re just splitting a small pie into even smaller pieces.” Undaunted, Kawashima responded: Fine, we’ll make the pie bigger on our own. And the key to that bigger pie was the 50cc CA100, the “nifty, thrifty Honda Fifty,” known in Japan as the Super Cub.
“To succeed in the U.S. is to succeed worldwide. To take up the challenge of the American market may be the most difficult thing to do, but it’s a critical step in expanding the export of our products.” –Takeo Fujisawa, Senior Managing Director and co-founder of Honda Motor Co., Ltd.
The Super Cub was designed to be accessible: a bike anyone could ride, rugged enough to handle the rough unpaved Japanese roads and with a quiet, fuel-efficient engine. Honda fitted it with its first-ever semi-automatic centrifugal clutch transmission, meaning gear changes were initiated by simply toeing the gearshift lever, no clutch required. The Japanese model was painted a lovely “sea and sky” combination of dark and light blue with a contrasting red single seat, reportedly inspired by Mr. Honda’s penchant for wearing a red shirt and driving a red sports car.
The American version, meanwhile, had two-up seating and a bright, toy-like red and white paint job that reflected American Honda’s strategy of marketing the Super Cub as something fun and unthreatening, the perfect accessory for modern youths of the Jet Age. It was a marked departure from the image most Americans had of motorcycles and “bikers” in general, personified by somewhat dangerous, black leather-clad young men, a la Marlon Brando in “The Wild One.”
And it was a booming success. In 1961 Honda sold 17,000, in 1962 35,000 and in 1963, the year of the “You meet the nicest people” campaign, 90,000 CA100s were sold in the States.
The Super Cub’s new image was “unlike anything that Americans had imagined before. It was that of a completely new vehicle; a motorcycle that simply didn’t seem like one.” –Kihachiro Kawashima, General Manager, American Honda Motor Co., Ltd.
Unfortunately, like most booms the Super Cub ran its course in the U.S., with sales peaking in 1965 and then declining until the model was retired in 1974. It was replaced by the larger displacement C90 and C70 Passport, the last step-through Honda motorcycles sold in the States, which themselves disappeared from our shores after the 1983 model year.
The Super Cub lived on elsewhere, however, especially in Southeast Asia, where reliable, efficient, rugged and inexpensive two-wheeled transportation is a necessity. As of October 2017, more than 100 million Super Cubs had been sold worldwide, the most by far of any motorized vehicle in history. Meanwhile, the unassuming Super Cub had started a revolution, introducing Japanese motorcycles to the American masses and throwing the door wide open for the “Japanese Invasion” that swept the U.S. motorcycle and automotive markets in the late 1960s and beyond.
Return of the Super Cub
The year 2019 marks American Honda’s 60thanniversary and also the return of its breakthrough model, now dubbed the Super Cub C125. Based around the air-cooled 125cc single used in the Grom and the Monkey, the 2019 Super Cub is almost as much a time machine as it is a motorcycle.
Fuel injection replaces the carburetor, 17-inch wheels are cast rather than spoked and carry modern tubeless tires, the front disc brake has standard ABS, there’s no kickstarter and the instrument is a combination LCD fuel gauge/odometer/tripmeter/gear indicator with analog speedometer. But the bike still uses that same semi-automatic centrifugal clutch–since utilized in everything from Honda’s mini dirt bikes to ATVs–and it looks almost exactly the way it did 60 years ago, in the classic Japanese “sea and sky” livery.
Since every story must start at the beginning, our press launch ride started at the original location of the American Honda Motor Company, a small, nondescript white building on Pico Blvd. west of downtown Los Angeles, where we swung a leg over our time machine–er, motorcycle.
The first clue this is a 2019 model, not a ’62, is the key–or lack thereof. The proximity-sensing fob locks and unlocks the side cover storage (large enough to hold the owner’s manual and not much else) and seat, under which are two helmet lock hooks and the fuel filler, and enables the ignition. Turn the ignition knob to “on,” thumb the starter button and the Super Cub purrs to life.
For a rider used to clutching or even Honda’s own automatic DCT transmission, it takes a bit to get used to the lack of a clutch lever while continuing to toe a shifter. Neutral is at the bottom, then it’s all up from there, gears one through four. The lever itself is a heel-and-toe design, and a couple of testers remarked that it was easier to push the heel plate for upshifts, especially with thick boots on.
The transmission uses a centrifugal clutch and a standard spring-loaded clutch plate; when you toe (or heel) the shifter the clutch plate pulls away, the gear changes and the plate returns. The system responds best to an easy-going pace, befitting the Super Cub’s personality. I found that pushing rather than jabbing the lever and operating the throttle just like I would on a traditional bike–rolling it closed slightly during shifts–resulted in the smoothest operation.
Like the Grom and Monkey, the Super Cub isn’t designed for speed–55 mph is about the most you’ll comfortably do, and 45 is even better–but the larger 17-inch hoops bestow a stability the other two lack and make it feel more like a “real” motorcycle. Our test ride meandered south and west, including plenty of impatient L.A. traffic, hills, road construction and even a police escort along the sandy boardwalk in Redondo Beach. The Super Cub handled it all with charm and grace, coaxing smiles from scowling, gridlocked drivers like a lion tamer soothing a roaring beast.
The little single, which probably generates 10 horsepower on a good day, feels smooth and comfortable, thanks at least partially to rubber pads on the rigid-mounted footpegs and the thickly padded red solo saddle. There is no adjustability to either the 26mm inverted front fork or the twin rear shocks, and no passenger accommodations (Honda does offer a nice accessory chrome luggage rack, however). Parking involves dismounting while holding the 240-pound bike upright, then lifting it onto its centerstand (there is no sidestand, nor is there a parking brake).
After rolling through the green hills of Palos Verdes, we turned our backs to the sea and cruised to the Honda North America campus. Our time machines had brought us full circle, from 1959’s single, humble storefront with eight employees to the sprawling, 101-acre North American headquarters of the largest motorcycle manufacturer in the world. Honda had one more surprise for us, however.
Blocks away from the main campus, it maintains a private collection of cars and motorcycles, from the first Civic to milestone motorcycles to the latest IndyCar racecars. There they wheeled two bikes out of the museum, a 1961 Japanese-spec C100 Honda 50 and a 1980 C70 Passport, and let us take them for a quick spin. Pull the choke knob and give it a kick–the smooth purr feels immediately familiar. Three gears instead of four, a drum brake up front, but otherwise these were the same fun, easy to ride motorcycles we’d been traveling on all day. The circle closed, the story begins again.
The Super Cub represents everything Honda was and has become, especially in the U.S. where it, aided by some deft marketing moves by American Honda, almost single-handedly altered American motorcycling culture forever. We’re happy to see it again, and maybe it will even inspire a whole new generation of “nice people” to take up two wheels.
2019 Honda Super Cub C125 ABS Specs
Base Price: $3,599 Website: powersports.honda.com Engine Type: Air-cooled single, SOHC, 2 valves Displacement: 125cc Bore x Stroke: 52.4 x 57.9mm Transmission: 4-speed, semi-automatic centrifugal clutch Final Drive: Chain Wheelbase: 48.9 in. Rake/Trail: 26.5 degrees/2.8 in. Seat Height: 30.7 in. Claimed Wet Weight: 240 lbs. Fuel Capacity: 1.0 gal. Avg. MPG: NA
Bigger doesn’t always mean better, and fortunately for those of us looking for a fun, affordable motorcycle there are more choices than ever. Nearly every manufacturer now offers at least one model that will fit just about any rider’s size and/or budget.
Scroll down for Rider’s 2019 list of Best Bikes for Smaller Riders and Budgets. When possible we’ve included a link to our review, making it easy for you to get a real ride evaluation. We’ve also included the 2019 model year’s U.S. base MSRP (as of publication), seat height and claimed wet weight (when a wet weight was not available from the manufacturer, the claimed dry weight is listed). For more details, you can read our review, which includes comprehensive specs, or click on the bike’s name to be taken directly to the manufacturer’s page.
BMW F 750 GS
BMW F 750 GS
$10,395
32.1-inch seat w/ optional 31.1-inch seat or 30.3-inch seat
493 lbs.
Here we are, at the beginning of a new year and the end of an era. After a 32-year run (1987-2018), Kawasaki has ceased production of the KLR650. After tens of thousands of units sold and millions of miles ridden around the globe, the legendary dual-sport has been retired. A victim of ever-tightening emissions regulations, the KLR and its lone carburetor are being put out to pasture.
In its early days Kawasaki billed the KLR not as a dual-sport but as a “triple-sport,” a motorcycle good for street, dirt and touring. That aligned perfectly with Rider’s focus on touring, travel and adventure, and since the KLR has always been reasonably priced, even more so when purchased used, it also fit within the limited budgets of staffers and contributors. Editor-in-Chief Mark Tuttle, Managing Editor Jenny Smith and Senior Editor Yours Truly have owned, and loved, KLRs. And long-time dual-sport contributor Arden Kysely owned not one but two KLRs, racking up more than 65,000 miles.
In the October 2013 issue of Rider, Clement Salvadori wrote his Retrospective column about the 1993-1996 Kawasaki KLX650, a more powerful, more off-road-oriented spin-off of the KLR, and he summed up the icon’s early history:
“On the conservative end was the venerable KLR650, which began life as a 600 in 1984 and showed a very modern approach to dual-sporting as it had the first liquid-cooled engine, with a kickstarter and a smallish gas tank holding just three gallons. For 1985, the engine-starting procedure got an electric leg, and sales showed that customers liked this innovation, the first in the single-cylinder dual-sport world. This 600 grew into a 650 in ’87, and the gas tank grew to 6.1 gallons. This was followed by the brief one-year appearance of the Tengai version in 1990, essentially a restyling of the standard KLR with a Paris-Dakar look and a bigger fairing. These bikes were directed at riders of modest accomplishments who liked to ride 50 miles to a national forest and then potter along dirt roads for half a day.”
Salvadori was on hand for the KLR650’s first test in Rider, a three-bike tour test comparison with the Honda Transalp and BMW R100GS published in the April 1989 issue, two years after the KLR650 was introduced. (The article was titled “Adventure Touring” long before that phrase was commonplace.) With Editor Mark Tuttle and Technical Editor Bob Price in tow, Clem led the gang through Death Valley–up Goler Wash, out to Aguereberry Point and through Emigrant Canyon–back when the area was still a national monument (it became a national park in 1994). The KLR proved to be the best off-road bike of the three thanks to its generous low-end torque, 9.1 inches of suspension travel and comparatively low weight. On the road, however, its 651cc single was buzzy (despite having dual counterbalancers) and its front brake was woefully underpowered. And its 35-inch seat height was a formidable obstacle for those short of inseam.
In the years that followed, Rider selected the KL650 Tengai as the “Top Adventure Touring Motorcycle” (May 1990 issue) and published touring features in which the KLR650 played a leading role (“Dirty Duo,” August 1993; “A KLR in Color Country,” May 1995). The KLR soldiered on, selling well and building a loyal following.
Rider published its first solo test of the KLR in the November 1997 issue, written by Arden Kysely. Having gotten the formula right out of the gate, the KLR underwent few changes during its first two decades. A rare round of updates for the 1997 model year were limited to a lighter flywheel, an extra clutch plate and a more conservative color/graphics package. About the KLR’s brakes, Kysely penned this memorable line: “…the front and rear discs muster all the enthusiasm of a teenager cleaning his room.” Weak brakes aside, he praised the KLR for its affordable price, good midrange power and torque, nimble handling, ample range, comfortable seat and ability to carry lots of gear.
With fond memories of his years, miles and adventures on KLRs (he put 40,000 miles on his 1989 KLR and 25,000 on his 1997 KLR), Kysely had this to say: “The KLR is no beauty queen, lacks modern electronic rider aids and won’t win many drag races, but there’s no better bike for newbies and veterans on a budget to take exploring. The KLR is for riders who want to enjoy the country they’re riding through, not just blast through to check another route off the list. And it’s the ultimate workhorse–just keep it shod and fed and a KLR will be your faithful companion on many adventures. Compared to more modern bikes, this one-lung adventurer may seem lacking, but it’s simplicity and ruggedness are virtues not found in the high-dollar machines.”
With so many KLRs on (and off) the road–by some estimates, nearly 150,000 were produced–the venerable dual-sport fueled a veritable cottage industry in the aftermarket. In the May 1999 issue of Rider, EIC Tuttle wrote a project bike feature called “King KLR.” Starting with a stock 1998 KLR650, he upgraded the suspension (including an Öhlins shock), handlebar, seat, exhaust, clutch, tires and various odds-and-ends, such as the infamous “doohickey,” the name the KLR community gave to the notoriously failure-prone “balancer chain adjuster lever.” He also swapped the steel gas tank for a lighter plastic one (being translucent, it also provided a low-tech fuel “gauge”) and added hand guards, a taller windscreen, cleated footpegs, a centerstand, a skid plate and soft luggage.
Having turned the KLR into a more comfortable and versatile adventure tourer, he bought the bike from Kawasaki and kept it in his garage for more than a decade, occasionally using it for two-up camping trips with his wife, Genie. Looking back, Tuttle muses: “Since 1987 the primary benefit of the KLR650 has also been its biggest weakness: size and comfort. Though far lighter than contemporary liter-class ADV bikes, compared to most dual-sport 650 singles the KLR is heavy and has less ground clearance, so it can be a handful in sand and on big hills. At a Jeep-like pace it tackles moderate single-track trails and fire roads just fine, though, and its bigger seat, road-hugging weight and liquid-cooling make it a far better companion on long road rides than its air-cooled competitors.”
Tuttle continued: “My most memorable KLR650 experience was road-racing one on a 150-mile white-knuckled sprint from Ensenada to San Felipe in Baja, Mexico, a La Carrera homage probably put on by the late great Loyal Truesdale. Even though the road was closed and the bike topped out at the ton, I lost count of the close calls after the fifth burro encounter….”
When I joined the Rider staff in 2008, I convinced EIC Tuttle to let me borrow his kitted-out KLR for an adventure-bike ride with a group organized by our local BMW dealer. After borrowing it a couple more times, scratching it up and developing a genuine fondness for the KLR, I pestered Tuttle for months to sell it to me. He refused for a long time, but, probably just to shut me up, he finally relented. Most of my buddies rode expensive BMW GSs, but I loved my low-tech KLR.
Thanks to the KLR, I learned how to ride a big dual-sport/adventure bike, tackling sand washes and technical hill climbs, crashing more times than I’d care to admit. I referred to my KLR as the Mountain Goat because it would go just about anywhere…not particularly fast, but it was a trooper. And riding the KLR wasn’t “work.” I didn’t have to worry about damaging a test bike or evaluating the bike I was on, so I could just ride for riding’s sake. Riding the KLR on national forest roads and trails throughout the Angeles, Los Padres and Sequoia national forests and all over the Mojave Desert reminded me of my high school days, when I would explore trails on my mountain bike. And I met a lot of great people on group rides, several of whom are some of my best friends to this day.
King KLR and I had eight good years together, but the reality was that it spent much more time parked in the garage than it did out on adventures, and today’s ethanol-blended gas (and my neglect) took its toll on the fuel petcock and the tiny jets in the carburetor. With a twinge of sadness, I sold it to a good friend–the very same guy who led the first and many of the best rides I had on the KLR. It’s still in the family, so to speak, and I think of that bike every morning when I drink coffee out of my KLR650 mug.
The KLR got its first and only major update for the 2008 model year, with engine tweaks for smoother and stronger power delivery, better suspension and brakes, a more supportive seat and new switchgear and bodywork. Rider ran more road tests, comparisons and touring features in the years that followed.
Managing Editor Jenny Smith, who joined the Rider staff in 2016, owned a second-gen KLR: “As a dedicated sport rider, dual-sport motorcycles were never on my radar–until I moved to Colorado. Suddenly I found myself and my Honda RC51 left behind while my new group of friends hit the myriad of forest roads and trails on weekends. When I expressed interest, they were nearly unanimous: buy a KLR650. I found a bone-stock, low-mileage 2009 at the local dealership and will never forget my first foray off-pavement. We pulled to a stop at the open gate to ‘air down’ (what in the world??), then I followed them into the forest and onto a rollercoaster of a jeep trail, laughing in amazed, unbridled joy as we splashed through puddles, clawed up rocky hills and paused regularly to soak in the scenery. I was hooked, and for the next four years the KLR (soon outfitted thoroughly with crash protection, lights and luggage) was my ticket to some of the most challenging and beautiful rides I’ve ever experienced. I saw what was at the end of those dirt roads, camped in the wilderness, fell down (a lot), picked the bike back up, learned to carry a quart of oil on any long trip and fell back in love with motorcycling.”
One of my fondest memories of the KLR was a two-day ride through Death Valley for the press launch of the 2014 KLR650 New Edition, which got firmer suspension, a new seat and new color options. Twenty-five years after the KLR first appeared in Rider, a group of us covered some of the same terrain on bikes that, apart from minor updates, had essentially the same liquid-cooled 651cc single, same frame, same 35-inch seat height and same 6.1-gallon fuel tank. KLRs made in the final years of the production run were certainly better than the early models, but in some ways the KLR has been timeless. And it’s even cheaper now than it was three decades ago.
Back in 1989, when we published our first comparison test featuring the KLR650, its MSRP was $3,499 ($7,164 in 2018 dollars). MSRP for 2018 KLR650s that remain on dealer floors is $6,699, a savings of $465 in current dollars from the 1989 model. But on the Cycle Trader website there are scads of new, 0-mile KLR650s going for less than $6,000, with some even listed for less than $5,000. And if you’re in the market for a used KLR, the possibilities are nearly as limitless as the aftermarket products designed specifically for the crowd-pleasing dual-, er, triple-sport.
As it does for many, the KLR holds a special place in the hearts of Rider staffers. Hearing the distinctive tweet from the exhaust of a KLR riding by immediately transports us back to memorable adventures, carefree days and campfire nights.
Will we see the KLR return in a year or two, minimally updated with fuel injection and an emissions-compliant exhaust system (like the KLX250 did)? Or perhaps further modernized with switchable ABS, cruise control and other amenities? Whether or not Kawasaki revives the venerable KLR, its legend is secure as one of the most affordable, reliable, versatile and enjoyable motorcycles ever produced.
Glittery, feature-laden flagship products may be sexy, but in today’s world the bread-and-butter models are the ones that return the most bang for the least buck. So it’s no surprise to me that the roughly $5,000 YZF-R3 was the top-selling Yamaha motorcycle overall in 2018, a spot it swaps regularly with another inexpensive grin factory, the FZ/MT-07 (read our Road Test Review here). The R3 debuted in 2015, a bit late to the lightweight sportbike party, but it immediately impressed us with its fun factor and everyday usability.
For 2019, the R3 got a makeover that included a new upside-down 37mm KYB fork with revised settings, new triple clamps, an updated KYB rear shock, new radial Dunlop Sportmax tires, a redesigned fuel tank, lower clip-ons and a facelift that ties it to its YZR-M1 (much bigger) brother. While we like the new look, it’s the suspension updates that take the littlest YZF to the next level.
Up front, the spring rate was increased by 20 percent and both rebound and compression damping were also dialed up, addressing our complaint in the 2016 test above that the fork was “spongy, with weak rebound damping letting the front-end recoil too fast from impacts.” A new cast-aluminum top triple clamp and forged-steel lower triple clamp combine with the stout USD fork to create a much more planted feel that provides better feedback than before, an immediately noticeable improvement. It’s also a better match for the 7-step preload-adjustable rear shock, which got an 11-percent stiffer spring, 10mm higher preload, increased rebound damping and, interestingly, slightly decreased compression damping.
Overall it works very well in combination with the steel trellis frame; as I tossed the 375-pound (claimed, wet) machine through the banked corners of Palomar Mountain, feedback from the front end let me focus on having fun rather than worry about running out of talent (or traction).
Speaking of traction, for some reason the first-gen R3 wore bias-ply tires rather than radials. An easy enough aftermarket swap, but for 2019 Yamaha has sensibly shod the R3 with proper radial Dunlop Sportmax GPR-300 rubber. We’ve had good experiences with Sportmax tires in the past, and this is no exception; the R3 stayed glued to the pavement even on damp mountain roads and when keeled all the way over on a favorite set of technical twisties. If there is a sport riding shortcoming, it’s the brakes; the meager two-piston caliper at the front and single-piston at the rear just aren’t up to the demands of what is otherwise a very capable machine.
Under the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” category is the 321cc liquid-cooled, DOHC, 4 valve-per-cylinder parallel twin, which spun out 35 horsepower at 10,600 rpm and 19 lb-ft of torque at 9,200 when we last put it on the Jett Tuning dyno. Gears first through fourth are rather low, maximizing grunt, but there’s an interesting bump in both power and torque right after 6,000 rpm.
The result is impressive roll-on performance even at a high gear-to-speed ratio. For example, I found myself traveling at just under 30 mph in fifth gear, when suddenly our ride leader poured it on and pulled away. Without downshifting I whacked the throttle open, and the little R3 responded by pulling hard (relatively speaking of course) all the way to 11,000 rpm. Highly entertaining, but also practical for freeway commuters.
And I suppose that’s the point of the R3: it’s affordable, but now it’s an even more capable sportbike that should lengthen its buyers’ “out-growing” timeframe. Yamaha’s research indicates that the average R3 owner is 32 years old, and for 63 percent of them it’s their first motorcycle. For more than three-quarters of them, the R3, likely their only bike, does double-duty as a commuter, a fact supported by my own anecdotal evidence as seen on my daily commute.
The trick is walking (riding?) that fine line between sporty and comfy, and even with its 20mm lower clip-ons that now attach under the top triple clamp, I found the R3’s ergonomics to be a fantastic balance between the two. The day after our 140-mile press launch ride, I logged more than 154 freeway miles riding from Oceanside, California, to my home in Camarillo, and despite wearing a backpack I experienced no ill effects: no pain and no numb hands, bum or feet. Plus, despite keeping up with 75 mph California traffic, I only went through 2.4 of the 3.7 gallons in the tank, for a respectable 65 mpg.
There’s a lot to like about the 2019 Yamaha YZF-R3: good looks, sporty yet comfortable ergos on a well-balanced chassis, vastly improved suspension and a price that’s unchanged from last year ($4,999/$5,299 for the ABS model). We’ll continue to put miles on our test bike, so look for updates and a full Road Test Review in the coming weeks.
2019 Yamaha YZF-R3 Specs Base Price: $4,999 Price as Tested: $5,299 (ABS model) Warranty: 1 yr., unltd. miles Website: yamahamotorsports.com
Engine Type: Liquid-cooled, transverse parallel twin Displacement: 321cc Bore x Stroke: 68mm x 44.1mm Compression Ratio: 11.2:1 Valve Train: DOHC, 4 valves per cyl. Valve Insp. Interval: 26,600 miles Fuel Delivery: EFI Lubrication System: Wet sump, 2.7-qt. cap. Transmission: 6-speed, cable-actuated wet clutch Final drive: O-ring chain
In Triumph’s nomenclature, some motorcycle names result from a mix-and-match game using four simple words–Speed, Street, Triple and Twin. Models with “Speed” in their name tend to be larger than their “Street” counterparts, while “Triple” and “Twin” refer to the number of cylinders. Combinations of these four words identify three-cylinder naked sportbikes–the 1,050cc Speed Triple and the 765cc Street Triple–as well as the Street Twin, a “modern classic” Bonneville with a 900cc parallel twin.
The newest member of the Bonneville family, the 1,200cc Speed Twin, not only adds the fourth and final piece to the name-game puzzle, the appellation holds a place of reverence in Triumph’s long history. Developed by legendary designer Edward Turner, the 1938 Speed Twin was a lightweight 500cc parallel twin that set new benchmarks for power and handling and established a template for British motorcycles that spanned decades. In the spirit of the original, Triumph developed the new Speed Twin to offer engine performance and handling comparable to the Thruxton café racer but with an upright riding position, less weight and a lower price. Claimed dry weight for the Thruxton is 454 pounds and for the Speed Twin is 432 pounds, which even undercuts the smaller-displacement Street Twin by 5 pounds. And at $12,100, the Speed Twin’s base price is $900 lower than the Thruxton’s.
Though not a parts-bin special per se, the Speed Twin nonetheless shares engine and chassis features with other Bonnevilles. Like the new Scrambler 1200, the Speed Twin is powered by a “high power” version of Triumph’s liquid-cooled, 1,200cc parallel twin with a high-compression head, a low-inertia crankshaft, a lighter clutch assembly and lightweight covers, and the engine is carried in a tubular-steel frame with aluminum cradles. But the Speed Twin’s “Thruxton tune” delivers more output than the Scrambler 1200–96 horsepower at 6,750 rpm and 83 lb-ft of torque at 4,950 rpm (claimed).
Like other Bonnevilles, the Speed Twin’s 270-degree crank generates a robust rumble from its 2-into-2 exhaust and power is sent to the rear wheel through a 6-speed transmission and chain final drive. In addition to the aluminum frame cradles and “mass optimized” engine, further weight savings come from a lighter battery and new cast aluminum wheels. Compared to the Thruxton, the Speed Twin’s front wheel and disc assembly save 6.4 pounds and its rear wheel saves 3.7 pounds, reducing both unsprung weight and inertia for better handling.
To put the new Speed Twin to the test, Triumph invited us to the island of Mallorca, off the coast of Spain, for a first ride. The cold, blustery January day made me wish for some wind protection, but at least Triumph was kind enough to install accessory heated grips on our test bikes. And I was fortunate enough to grab the key for a bike with the gorgeous Korosi Red/Storm Grey paint job on the tank, which adds $500 to the price (same goes for the Silver Ice/Storm Grey paint scheme; base price is for Jet Black).
With its round headlight, sculpted tank, bench seat and dual shocks, the Speed Twin has the stance of a classic sport standard, and its bar-end mirrors, fork gaiters and analog gauges give it some café racer flair. Perched at 31.8 inches, the flat seat is supportive, and the tapered aluminum handlebar is positioned at a comfortable height and reach. The footpegs, well forward and a tad lower than those on the Thruxton, contribute to a natural riding position.
As with other modern Bonnevilles, there’s plenty of 21st-century tech, tastefully applied so as not to interfere with the essential riding experience. Things like LEDs for the daytime running light, taillight and rear turn signals; ABS and switchable traction control; riding modes (Sport, Road and Rain, which adjust throttle response and TC); an assist-and-slipper clutch; dual multi-function LCD panels in the instruments; a USB charging socket under the seat and an ignition immobilizer. Alas, no cruise control.
With cold pavement it took a while for the Pirelli Diablo Rosso 3 tires to warm up, but once they did grip was spot-on and cornering response was smooth and predictable. Squeezing the tank with my knees, keeping a light grip on the bars and applying feathery pressure to the rear brake, the Speed Twin masterfully negotiated the many hairpins and first-gear corners carved into the rocky mountains of northern Mallorca. With a wheelbase of 56.3 inches, 22.8 degrees of rake and 3.7 inches of trail, the Speed Twin is slightly longer and more relaxed than the Thruxton, giving it a bit more stability through fast sweepers. Although Triumph says tuning is unique to the Speed Twin, the suspension–a 41mm non-adjustable fork and dual preload-adjustable shocks, both with 4.7 inches of travel–is essentially the same as that of the Thruxton, with well-controlled damping that’s a happy medium between tautness and comfort. Twin Brembo 4-piston, 4-pad front calipers gripping 305mm discs and a single Nissin 2-piston rear caliper provide responsive braking, backed up by ABS.
With the big parallel twin generating a fair amount of engine braking, I found the Sport riding mode to be too abrupt for my taste. Rain mode was too dull, for obvious reasons, but Road mode felt just right (all modes provide full power). The Speed Twin was well-mannered in the best English tradition thanks to excellent fueling, a linear increase in power and a wide, flat torque curve. No dips, no flat spots, just smooth, steady grunt whenever you need it and an exhaust note that’s assertive without being rude. A light pull from the clutch and a buttery transmission further add to the Speed Twin’s polished demeanor.
Filling the shoes of a legend is no small task, but Triumph’s new Speed Twin honors the original’s reputation for being light, powerful and dynamic. It also provides yet another option in Triumph’s burgeoning Bonneville family, which now includes 14 models. Bigger and more powerful than a Street Twin, lighter, more comfortable and less expensive than a Thruxton, the Speed Twin is a one sweet machine.
The Spanish Civil War ended in 1939, and then the rest of Europe spun out of control. Spain sensibly decided to stay neutral in World War II. With a limited domestic market, business stagnated. But by 1944, with the end of that conflict in sight, Spaniards started thinking about the future. A couple of like-minded fellows, Pedro Permanyer and Francisco Bulto, met up and decided that providing their countrymen with basic transportation could be profitable. They built a factory in Barcelona and began producing Montesa motorcycles, little two-stroke singles under 125cc, and had great success. But the partners had their differences, and in 1958 Bulto went off on his own to found the Bultaco motorcycle company.
Permanyer persisted, built larger engines, and in 1965 showed the 247cc engine (21 horsepower at 7,000 rpm) in a Scorpion motocrosser. Several years later a mildly detuned version appeared in the Cota trials bike, and in 1968 the Cota won the Spanish Trials Championship. It should be noted that trials competitions were very popular in Europe, less so in the U.S.
In the early 1970s the Japanese OEMs began modifying some of their competitive 250 dirt models into more civilized trail bikes, or as we might say today, dual-purpose. These had two-up seats, lights, a horn, whatever it took to make them street-legal. Permanyer took note. He had a great 250 engine, seen in motocross, roadracing, enduro and trials versions, so why not turn that trials bike into a trail version for the European street crowd; those countries weren’t quite as fearful of two-stroke emissions as were the Americans. The Cota 247-T (for Trail) was born.
Montesa had about 300 dealers in the U.S., who were doing well with some of the competition bikes. Apparently the importer thought this 247-T could be an added attraction. According to sketchy records the factory produced some 2,300 of them, with very few coming to this country. One reason being that it was expensive compared to the competition.
The Owner’s Manual, in Spanish, English and French, begins well: “The MONTESA motorcycle which model is introduced here do (sic) not require an excessive care for maintenance, only a minimum attention is required to ensure a long and perfect serviceable time.” Truth, as the Cota is a delightfully basic machine.
The oversquare piston-port single cylinder has a bore of 72.5mm, stroke, 60mm, with a compression ratio of 10 to 1, generating some 19 horsepower at 6,500 rpm. Ignition is via a flywheel magneto/alternator and coil. The header pipe goes out the left side, high up, with a two-part muffler and spark arrestor. A respectable muffler, too, the two-stroke pop-pop being pleasantly muted.
The air cleaner is under the seat, with a Spanish-made 27mm Amal carburetor carrying fuel into the engine. A previous owner of this bike has replaced the Amal with a Mikuni. Should there be a need to remove the carb, the manual says, “Have in mind that you must shut the entrance of the admission pipe while the carburetor is out, in order to avoid the entrance of odd objects in the interior of the cylinder.”
Primary drive is via spur gears, 22 teeth off the crankshaft, 64 teeth on the clutch, which uses “multiple steel discs in oil bath with constant tension springs….” That power goes through a five-speed transmission to a 10-tooth countershaft sprocket and a 40-toother on the back wheel. A very nifty chain-oiler has been built into the right arm of the swingarm, which holds a supply of oil that drips onto the chain just as it enters a tensioning device.
The engine/transmission unit sits in a tubular steel frame, with bolts holding it steady fore, aft and top. A single tube comes down from the reinforced steering head, spreading into a cradle at the front of the crankcase, with a sturdy skid plate built in. A small hole in the skid plate allows access to the drain plug. The rear section, holding the seat and upper shock absorber mounts, is built into the main frame, with a strong pivot point for the swingarm. The shocks on this model have no identification mark, but are probably of Telesco making. The telescoping fork is Montesa-made, with a 29.5-degree rake, 5.6 inches of trail.
A 21-inch wheel at the front wears a 2.75 tire, an 18-incher at the back has a 4.00 tire. Small 110mm single-leading-shoe full-width drum brakes are at both ends. When inspecting the wheels it is advisable “to slightly grease all the whirling points with SAE-40 oil.” A short 51.5 inches lie between the axles.
The bike has an attractively slim look, having a narrow 2.14-gallon fiberglass gas tank with wings extending under the long saddle. Fenders are lightweight alloy. A small headlight, horn and taillight make it more or less roadworthy, except there is no battery. The speedometer is missing from the photo model. A modest toolkit fits into a cylindrical container beneath the seat. Dry weight, according to the manual, is 200 pounds…lightweight fun!
The last 247cc 247-T was built in 1977, the similarly branded 1978 version having a slightly smaller 237cc engine. That model was then dropped, but the 348-T version kept on for two more years.
Postscript: In 1980 a trials version, the Cota 348, won the World Trials Championship, but Montesa was running into serious financial difficulties. The next year Honda essentially bought the company in order to have better access to the European market, and Montesa Cota models are still being built–albeit with four-stroke engines.
Harley-Davidson today announced pricing for the 2020 LiveWire, its first electric motorcycle, which is now available for U.S. dealer preorder. MSRP on the LiveWire is $29,799.
The LiveWire, which Harley says represents the next chapter in the 116-year-old company’s history, offers the benefits and performance of an electric motorcycle, with signature Harley attitude and style. Its H-D Revelation electric powertrain promises 0-to-60 acceleration in less than 3.5 seconds, with no clutch and no gear shifting, and an urban range of about 110 miles.
The powertrain sits low in the LiveWire’s chassis to lower the center of gravity and helps the motorcycle handle well at all speeds and make it easier to balance when stopped. The motorcycle also sports standard cornering ABS and traction control.
It also features H-D Connect, which pairs motorcycle riders with their bikes through an LTE-enabled Telematics Control Unit coupled with connectivity and cloud services using the latest version of the Harley-Davidson app. With H-D Connect, data is collected and transferred to the app to provide information to the rider’s smartphone about:
Motorcycle Status: Information available through H-D Connect includes battery charge status and available range from any location where a sufficient cellular signal is available. This allows the rider to remotely check the charge status including charge level and time to completion. Riders will be able to locate a charging station with ease thanks to an integrated location finder built into the H-D app.
Tamper Alerts and Vehicle Location: H-D Connect indicates the location of the parked LiveWire motorcycle and alerts can be sent to the rider’s smartphone if the bike is tampered with or moved. GPS-enabled stolen-vehicle tracking provides peace of mind that the motorcycle’s location can be tracked (requires law enforcement assistance; available in select markets).
Service Reminders and Notifications: Reminders about upcoming vehicle service requirements, automated service reminders and other vehicle care notifications.
Interestingly, while the electric LiveWire will of course produce minimal vibration, Harley says it’s designed a new “signature Harley-Davidson sound” that “represents the smooth, electric power” of the motorcycle. Whether or not that will be enough to satisfy riders looking for the classic “potato-potato” rumble remains to be seen.
To find a LiveWire dealer or place a preorder, visit h-d.com/LiveWire.
Here was a delicious little machine, a transversely mounted 231cc in-line four, putting out some impressive horsepower and weighing, fully fueled, a modest 269 pounds. With a top speed of more than 90 mph. However, in 1980 Benelli dealers also had 500 and 650 fours, along with an impressive six-cylinder 750, on the showroom floor…and Americans interested in Italian motorcycles did not care for these tiddlers. Anyone wanting a 250 could get one much cheaper from a Japanese dealer.
Cosmopolitan Motors was importing Benellis, and in 1980 the factory apparently told Cosmo that in order to get a few 750s they would have to take some 250s as well; Cosmo did so. Actually, when this 250 was conceived it was aimed strictly at the European market, as Italy and some other countries gave sub-250 bikes a good tax break and insurance costs were lower. The American market had never been seriously considered, but when 250 sales in Italy and elsewhere were not doing well, the company decided to foist a few off on the Yanks.
A little Benelli history: In 1911 the six Benelli brothers set up a garage in Pesaro, Italy, and specialized in fixing motorcycles—and soon started fabricating their own spare parts. In 1921 they built their first motorcycle, the 98cc Velo, and like any good Italian manufacturer took a big interest in racing. In 1937 they hired a young engineer named Lino Tonti in the racing department, and two years later he presented his 250 DOHC, in-line-four racebike, which was liquid-cooled and supercharged, ready for the 1940 season. Unfortunately Mussolini signed up with Hitler in June of 1940, and the rest is history.
War ended, Allied bombing had flattened the Benelli factory, but the boys—now older gents—got to work and had a pair of 250 and 500 single-cylinder street bikes for sale by 1947. When the GP races began again in 1949, they had a DOHC 250 single ready for the fray. In 1960 a new DOHC 250 four was at the track, winning a World Championship in 1969.
But the company was in financial trouble, due partially to racing expenses and the unexciting two-strokes they were selling to the public. Then a wealthy Argentinian businessman of Italian origin, Alejandro de Tomaso, showed up, acquiring 85 percent of the company in 1971 and then buying Moto Guzzi in 1973. Coincidentally, Lino Tonti was working for Guzzi at the time, and de Tomaso said he wanted some multi-cylinder bikes for the market. In 1974 the Benelli 500 and 650 fours appeared, which were closely patterned after some Japanese fours. But the next four-banger, the 250, was said to be very Italian, as nobody had made a road-going four that small. But it cost 30 percent more than Benelli’s 250 two-stroke twin.
The 231cc wet-sump engine was of the oversquare, short-stroke design, with a 44mm bore, 38mm stroke and a compression ratio of 10.5:1, happily revving to 10,500. All this was done using one overhead camshaft, two valves per cylinder and four 18mm Dell’Orto carburetors; 27 horsepower at the crankshaft. Ignition was done via battery and distributor, with the battery also powering the electric starter. Hardly necessary on such a small engine, but deemed essential in the modern market.
Primary drive was by a combination of chain and gears, a wet clutch putting power through a five-speed gearbox, with another chain going out to the rear wheel.
The open tubular frame was light, using the engine as a stressed member, and sportily rigid. A single downtube was bolted to the engine between the second and third cylinders. The front fork was a Benelli design, with the damping oil inside the cartridge, the oil in the fork legs for lubrication only. A pair of shock absorbers suspended the rear. The alloy wheels, both 18-inchers, had six twin-spokes, a 260mm disc brake on the front, drum at the back. Wheelbase was a modest 50 inches.
In 1977 similar models were sold by both Benelli and Moto Guzzi. With styling focusing on the sport rider, the Benelli was labeled the 250 Quattro; the Moto Guzzi 254 was aimed at the touring rider..
The styling fellow who did the Benelli bodywork had been charged with making the bike look modern, as well as appearing sleek. The end result was not very aesthetic; light thermoplastic panels, using straight rather then curved lines, covered the small gas tank and then angled down to where separate side panels would normally be. Moto Guzzi, on the other hand, had more traditional styling, with small panels making the gas tank look normal. Long panels traveled under the seat to a curved tail section, creating an attractively sporty look.
In an attempt to declutter the handlebar area on both bikes the speedo, tach and warning lights were positioned flat on top of the gas tank, requiring the rider to take his eyes off the road to see how fast he was going—not a good idea. Much better to have the instruments up by the headlight. For further decluttering, the reservoir for the front brake fluid was also tucked under the top of the tank.
Time went on, neither 250 selling well, and in 1980 the Mark II version came along. The Guzzi-labeled 250 was dropped, with the new Benelli 254 retaining the better-selling Guzzi styling and adding a little quarter fairing. The only picture we could find of the little Benelli sold in the U.S. was in the “1982 Motorcycle Buyer’s Guide” and it showed that slab-sided 250 Quattro model (the bike pictured in this article was imported to the U.S. from Europe). Cosmo dropped the model after 1982, while the factory went on producing the 254 version in Europe for another two years.
This is the final video in our three-part series about our Yamaha Star Eluder project bike, a collaboration between Rider magazine and Jeff Palhegyi, owner of Palhegyi Design. The goal of this project was to enhance the Eluder’s functionality and style in a way that any owner could do in his or her own garage.
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