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.
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