I Sing a Song of KLR

 

I Sing a Song of KLR

 

Disclaimer - This is not to say that KLR is a great bike, or to say it’s the best bike I’ve ever owned, 

or even that it’s the best bike I own currently.  It’s none of those things.  But, it is hilarious!

Preface - Why do you ride motorcycles?  Really?  I’ll bet that most of us have more than 

one answer to that question.  One of the big reasons I ride is that it’s fun.  It’s that simple.  

There may be other answers too, but for many of us it comes down to it being fun.  Now, 

if you subject that answer to the old “five whys” analysis, you may find that there is texture 

to that fun.  The experience of moving through space in three dimensions, in feeling a range 

of forces acting on us, the feeling of successfully getting the bike to go exactly where you want 

exactly the way you want it to.  Fun can also include finding limits.  The KLR is all about limits. 

It’s not my first rodeo.  I’ve had a KLR before, an early Gen2 (2008).  At the time, I bought it to augment the 1100 

Hypermotard I had.  I know the KLR is slow.  I know its handling is, um, interesting.  I sold that earlier one 

because I was trying to use it to commute from the East Bay to Palo Alto, and trying to keep up with traffic on 

280 was abusive, so I traded it in for my first of three (so far) Versys 650’s.  No regrets.  For use on paved roads, 

the Versys is much more capable, and yet…

This past winter I was making plans for a visit of riding buddies from the UK, and I was hoping to arrange bikes 

for them.  At the time my garage contained a Kawasaki Versys 650, a Guzzi V85TT, and a Royal Enfield INT650 

(Interceptor everywhere but the US -  thanks Honda).  Last year when friends came over, I offered the Enfield to 

one of them, but he declined, so we arranged a different bike - a bike no longer available.  I rode the V85TT, one 

of my guests rode the Versys, and we borrowed the other bike.  

This year I considered several options for used bikes, including picking up another Versys 650.  Another obvious 

consideration was a 650 V-Strom.  There were other bikes on the list (e.g., air cooled Multistrada, Buell Ulysses, 

etc.), but none of them had very different capabilities compared to my existing bikes.  This led me to consider the 

other ways I’d use the bike, and I concluded that I’d like to do some more off-road riding, but to do so on a bike 

that I’d primarily ride on paved roads.  This resulted in my thoughts drifting back to my Gen2 KLR, its broad 

capabilities, and its incredible aftermarket support.  

Back in February, I saw a great deal on a leftover 2023 at my favorite Kawasaki dealer, Fremont Kawasaki.  As 

usual, they made it as painless as possible for me to give them my money.  Seriously, other dealers could take a 

lesson.  

Getting back on the KLR was not surprising, but still a little shocking.  It’s big.  It may “only” be a 650, but it’s 

physically large, though among adventure bikes it’s no more than average.  It’s slow.  No really.  Especially during 

break-in.  During those early days it felt like Kawasaki had sourced the engine from a lawn tractor, except less 

exciting.  The handling was odd.  Not terrible, but odd.  For instance, some newer bikes with 21” front wheels 

mask the feel of the big wheel rather well (Triumph Scrambler 1200xe comes to mind).  With the KLR there’s 

never any doubt that the front is a 21”.  Turn-in is, shall we say, languorous.  

That said, the riding position is lovely.  The position is open with lots of legroom.  You’re seated fairly close to 

the steering head.  Not nearly as close as a Hypermotard, but closer than my other bikes, and I like that.  It allows 

me to weight the front wheel as I turn the bike, making it more responsive than that bike front wheel and lazy 

geometry would lead you to expect.  It’s wider between the knees than I’d like, but such is the cost of carrying 

lots of fuel.  On a purely personal note, I don’t much like the seat.  That's very personal, and others may find it to 

be to their liking.  

When I bought the KLR, I developed a shopping list from all the opinions out there on the internet.  I haven’t 

bought most of them yet, but I have picked up a few.  One of the consistent recommendations out there is a 

replacement shift lever, so I ordered one even before I’d picked up the bike.  I have yet to install it.  Despite my 

big feet (13 US), and adventure boots, I have absolutely zero problems shifting the bike with the stock lever.  I 

guess I should validate information before acting on it.  

Let’s cut to the chase.  Knowing that the KLR would be the slowest of the three, I couldn’t give it to a guest, so 

I’d be riding it.  The others would use the Versys and the V85TT, neither of which is fast, but both of which are 

substantially faster than the KLR.  These guys are no slouches.  We met and became friends 18 years ago when 

competing the Centopassi in the French and Italian Alps.  They know how to ride quickly on technically 

challenging roads.  It was going to take some effort to make the ride interesting at a pace that the KLR could 

achieve.  

How did it go?  Thirteen days, something like 3800 miles.  Big days, day after day, riding all day, everything from 

the Little Dragon in California to the Little Dragon in Oregon, from the summit of Ebbetts Pass to Hells Canyon, 

from the Great Basin to the Lost Coast, from sagebrush to redwoods, technical goat trails to super slab.  The KLR 

did it all.  

How did it do it?  Let’s talk about power.  The gen3 KLR has no tachometer, but it does have a rev limiter.  I’ve 

caned the crap out of it, but never hit the limiter because the power notably drops off before you encounter the 

limiter, letting you know that it’s time to shift up.  If you cane it, grab great big handfuls of throttle, and hold it 

against the stop until it stops pulling, it will progress with surprising alacrity.  Not fast, just not glacial.  

As for handling, I remember the words of Peter Egan in an article for Road & Track in which he described 

restoring a Model A Ford.  He described its handling as, “Not so’s you’d notice.”  Applies to the KLR too.  Come 

on, a spindly frame, cost-defective suspension, semi-knobby tires, that big old 21” up front, you’re never going to 

mistake it for a Panigale.  But, that doesn’t mean it’s not fun.  

This is the beauty of a KLR.  Not much power.  Not much handling.  Not much brakes.  You can find the limits of 

everything at fairly low speeds, which makes it easy, which makes it fun!  Ever provoke your bike into a wobble?  

Easy on the KLR.  Ever bounce yourself out of the saddle on a long-ish travel suspension bike?  The KLR checks 

that box too.  Ever make the frame flex?  The KLR is your grocery store bucking bronco.  Ever make the back 

end step out under power on dry pavement?  Toss in some washboard road, and the KLR will oblige.

The KLR’s weakest suit is in making quick overtakes, but be prepared, be in the right gear, and when the 

opportunity presents itself, it can even pick off a poorly ridden Eye-Abuser (sound it out) on a twisty road.  Of 

course, lots of times the opportunity never presents itself, and that can be frustrating, so you have no choice but 

to chill out.  Plus, in my case it may be saving me from performance awards.  

Bottom line: the KLR makes you work for it.  Lots of riders out there on lots of bikes that require very little of 

them, and maybe they’re happy that way.  They ride bikes that don’t care what gear they’re in, bikes that turn-in 

easily and accurately with little in the way of technique, that accelerate easily in any gear at any speed, that brake 

quickly even with horrible technique.  None of those things are true of the KLR.  The KLR demands your 

engagement.  It demands your active partnership in any effort to go fast.  When you push it too hard, it lets you 

know.  It gives clear feedback regarding what’s working, and especially what isn’t working.  It makes you a better 

rider, and in the process it makes you laugh out loud, and I’m all for bikes that make me laugh out loud.  

What's Holding You Back?

If you're not riding the way you'd like, what's holding you back?  It's nice when we can externalize it, and say, "These tires are almost done.  This bike has no cornering clearance.  If I only had the latest magazine and webforum fodder under me, then I'd really be something."   Nice, but often untrue.

What if it's really internal rather than external?  Easier to fix or harder?  Easier to recognize and examine, or harder?

This question has been on my mind for the past month.  It started when I was behind another rider who appeared to be fundamentally competent, but excruciatingly slow (not hyperbole).  He appeared to look through the corner, push on the inside bar, accelerate on exit, and so on, but the bike barely leaned, and was even slow on the straights.  In my head I kept asking, "What's holding him back?"

It's an interesting question, because when you ask it in front of a mirror rather than in reference to someone else, it gets more challenging to answer.  The blanket answer really comes down to beliefs.  Do my beliefs hold me back?  I'm pretty sure the beliefs of the rider in question were holding him back.  Easier to say that than it is to identify which exact beliefs are culpable, and come up with a way to change those beliefs. 

If beliefs might be holding us back, one approach I'm experimenting with is to write down my beliefs about any given situation - riding or non-riding - and my beliefs about myself and my abilities.  Armed with that list, rather than ask myself how to change a belief, I ask myself what would happen if it's not true.  What if the tires will still grip past 10 degrees of lean angle?  Okay, how about 20 degrees?  How about 40 degrees?  How would the world be different?  How would I ride?

These beliefs and their questioning need not be limited to motorcycling.  You need to apply some judgment to the questions and the way you choose to test for truth.  For instance questioning your beliefs regarding gravity, or the solid nature of the oncoming bus should probably be tested in some way that won't lead to grave bodily harm. 

With the above caveat in mind, what do you believe?  How do you know it's true?  How would you ride and live if it weren't true?  How can you (safely) test it?  Challenge yourself. 

Do You Believe in Tar Snakes?

Sung to the tune of the Lovin' Spoonful's "Do You Believe in Magic?"

Sunday I was out for a ride, and when passing over a mid-turn tar snake, the bike got a little wiggle on.  Woke me up a bit.  Then it reminded me of the famous quote attributed to Henry Ford, "Whether you believe you can, or you believe you can't - you're right."

Say what?  Everybody hates tar snakes, right?  That's what I believed until I met someone who didn't, someone who seemed completely unperturbed by the presence of tar snakes.  How could that be?  They're slippery.  They're bad when they're hot.  They're worse when they're cold and wet.  They make your bike slide, your elbows stiff, your breathing stop, and other things pucker.  How could anyone not hate tar snakes? 

This guy didn't love tar snakes, he just didn't care.  Wasn't he afraid that tar snakes would put him on the ground?  That's what I asked him.  His response was to shrug his shoulders and say, "They just make the bike wiggle a bit." Wait!  These things put my heart in my throat every time the bike steps out over them, and he says it's just a "wiggle".  Does this guy have ice water in his veins?  If not, what explains his insouciance in the face of imminent disaster?

When I pressed him, he said it was pretty straightforward.  If it's just a snake or three that he's going to be crossing when leaned over, that he gets his braking done so that he can get smoothly back on to a positive throttle, keeping his eyes up and looking for the exit, and stay loose on the bike.  That way, when the bike moves it will only step out a couple of inches, then sort itself out.  On the other hand, if he stiffened up, looked at the front wheel, slammed the throttle shut, and grabbed some brakes, there would be a little more drama. 

The key insight that unlocked it all for me was the realization that most tar snakes are only a few inches wide, and this if your tire slips off of one that its next contact point will be asphalt, and grip will be restored.  Brilliant insight, huh?  The other stuff listed above is just good motorcycle fundamentals that I know I should be doing anyway.  The breakthrough was the belief that traction would be restored in a split second.  Just a wiggle.  On the other hand, if I believed that the tar snake would put me on the ground, I might still stiffen up, close the throttle, look at the ground, and have quite a moment. 

The usual caveats apply; if there is a whole nest of tar vipers, or a large tar patch, you will quite likely have a bigger slide, or even ruin your day, so deal with that situation accordingly.  If you're just dealing with the usual confederation of disorganized tar snakes, get your braking done before tipping in, get your eyes up and toward the exit, and smoothly apply a light throttle, and your belief will pay off. When it comes to tar snakes, do you believe you can, or do you believe you can't?  Henry Ford, nailed it - either way, you're right. 

Oh, and all you dirt riders in the back of the room, you can quit snickering now. 

Stirling Moss Said It. What's It Got to Do With You?

Stirling who?  Stirling Moss, perhaps the greatest racing car driver to never win the World Driving Championship.  An immensely talented driver who was particularly good at open road races back in the 50's, like the Mille Miglia and the Targa Florio.  These races favored drivers who could read the road effectively because of the challenge of "learning" such a course.  Stirling also raced Formula One, and endurance events like LeMans.

Once, Stirling was being interviewed by a motorsports journalist who asked him why he didn't late brake the same way many of his opponents did, and he quipped, "Better to go in slow and come out fast than to go in fast and come out dead."

Think about it.  Here's a guy who's getting paid to win, and his method is to go in slow and come out fast.  So many more choices that way.  So much better opportunity to respond to the unexpected.  So much more latitude to be on the gas to stabilize the bike once you get it leaned over.

You're not getting paid to win races down your favorite mountain road.  That makes taking Stirling Moss' free advice even more affordable. 

Want a Better Brain?

A couple of years back, my friend "Budman" Kobza told me about a study that indicated that riding motorcycles is good for your brain.  Who knew?  All about dealing with novelty, and solving problems, and predicting the future, and honing skills.  How cool is that?

Okay, so novelty, and solving new problems is good for your brain, right?  So, will you get that novelty and problem solving experience if you always ride the same roads?  What about if you ride new roads?  In new places?  What about if you ride new roads, in new paces, and on the wrong side of the road?  You'd be a genius, right? 

Welcome to riding in the UK (or Japan, or New Zealand, or Australia, or...).  Last month, we were in the UK for a bit of riding with friends, and a bit of race watching.  Learning to always keep yourself on the appropriate side of the road, even when you are dealing with junctions, driveways, roundabouts (not that hard, really), or meeting an oncoming vehicle coming around a blind turn on a very narrow road (can be quite hard, really) is a great way to exercise your brain.  Always having to hold part of your attention to one side to assure that "reflexes" don't take over and put you in exactly the wrong place.  It's a good mental workout.  Screw Luminosity!  This is REAL fun! 

Okay, so you can't hop across the pond to ride on the other side of the road, what should you do to stay sharp?  (Cue the broken record)  Yep, ride new roads.  Dig out your Benchmark Atlas, or your Thomas Brothers map, and look at little roads a couple of counties away.  Stuff running over ridge tops, or down in creek drainages will work.  Places you haven't seen before.  Roads where you don't know what's around the next corner.  Towns with cafes whose pie you haven't sampled.  You know, for science. 

And if by chance you do find yourself in the UK with a motorcycle, find the smallest roads you can see, and go play.  Not A roads.  Not even B roads.  Look for the ones that aren't even classified.  The local roads out to villages with 8 houses and 2 pubs.  That's where you want to be going.  After all, it's for your brain. 

Smooth Throttle - A Little Trick to Make it Easier

Smoothness, the act of riding smoothly is a topic for a whole host of potential blog posts, maybe even a blog of its own.  Instead of trying to address all that stuff that contributes to riding smoothly, here's a little tip to make it easier to be smooth on the throttle.

Ready for it?  Cover the front brake.  Come again?  Yep, by putting a finger or two of your throttle hand over the front brake lever you provide yourself a kinesthetic reference point that you can then move the throttle in reference to.  By looping a finger or two around there, you make it possible to consistently move the throttle in tiny increments, ever so important when:

• You're in a low traction situation, and you need to manage the throttle carefully
• You've got one of those new-fangled fuel injected bikes that lurches when opening up from a closed throttle
• You're deep into a turn and on the edge of the tire, and you need to feed throttle in smoothly
• You're riding one of those terrible, bumpy goat roads I'm always raving on about, and every time you hit a bump the throttle moves and the motorcycle lurches

Yep, I know that the MSF teaches its students to not cover the front brake, and I understand their pedagogical purpose in taking that out of the mix while on the range with rank beginners.  Are you a rank beginner?  I didn't think so.  Doesn't apply to you.

You're a big kid now.  Try it out if you aren't doing so already, and see how smoothly you can manipulate the throttle.  Keep it up and the next thing you know you'll be able to blip the throttle on a downshift while smoothly braking, astounding your friends and neighbors without the benefit of a slipper clutch.  How cool would that be?

Throttle Like a Rheostat

No, not a throttle like a Linda Ronstadt, or even a Heart Like a Wheel.  A throttle like a rheostat, sort of like the dimmer switch on the wall in your dining room, or the volume knob on your old Pioneer stereo receiver.  Turn it one direction, you get more.  Turn it the other direction, you get less.

Doesn't the throttle on your motorcycle already work that way?  Maybe.  Does it behave in a linear fashion in both directions so that when you roll the throttle on, the bike accelerates, and when you roll it off, it decelerates in a similar fashion?  Always?  Sometimes?  Never?  Is it possible that you're doing something else with the controls of your bike that influences whether your throttle behaves like a rheostat? 

I used to be a little lazy with my gear selection on my BMW R1150R.  It was pretty good at tractoring out of turns when I was a gear too high.  It was easy just to let it pull, even if it shook a bit in the process.  Besides, I didn't need to have it in the meat of the powerband to ride fast enough.  There was no issue.  Kind of freewheel in, managing my entry with the brakes, then tractor out.  Besides, all those guys on the forum said that I shouldn't slow by downshifting, or my bike would wear out, or I'd adversely impact the rotation of the earth, and that would be terrible.

One day I was following some fast, smooth guys, and I noticed their brakelights rarely came on, and that their bikes were always smooth going through turns, and they would accelerate away from me on the exits, so I began to carefully study what they were doing.  What I found was that even though some of them were riding big lazy twins like mine, they were riding them further up the rev band than I was.  Generally, they were riding their bikes with the motor revving in the vicinity of its peak torque, and what they got for their trouble was a bike that would smoothly and quickly accelerate when they opened the throttle.  Not only that, but because they were riding in a RPM range where their bikes generated significant engine braking when they rolled off the throttle, resulting in notable deceleration.  All this without touching the brakes, or in many cases, even the shift lever and clutch. 

So, I tried it.  What a revelation!  Holy smokes, now I didn't feel like the bike was running away on the way into corners.  Now I could accelerate smartly on the way out of corners.  And perhaps most importantly, now I could carefully adjust my line in mid-corner using the throttle as well as other control inputs, and small inputs yielded results.

But wait!  If I'm running near the torque peak so that if I open the throttle a tiny bit, the bike will accelerate, and if I close the throttle a tiny bit, the bike will slow, won't I just be a big, herky-jerky, wobbly mess out there?  Nope, see my earlier post on covering the front brake as a method to smooth throttle inputs, and all will be good.

You may already do this.  It's a common practice among racers.  However, if you don't already do this, give it a try.  I'll wager it will make you a better, smoother rider (with some practice), and that you'll be unlikely to stall a bike mid-corner because you were in a too high gear.