#royalenfield

derganzerest:

Schöner Ride!

Let’s just get this out of the way, I wouldn’t buy the GT 650 or INT 650 as my second bike. I’d buy it as my first.

Up to this point, I’ve been judging motorcycles based on my personal search for a second motorcycle. My criteria consisted of 4 qualities: cheap, dirt-capable, lightweight, and powerful (added after I rode the Himalayan). On that note, neither of Royal Enfield’s new Twins meets those standards. Let’s just get this out of the way, I wouldn’t buy the GT 650 or INT 650 as my second bike. I’d buy it as my first.

Due to my first experience with Royal Enfield’s Himalayan, I had low expectations for the brand’s new 650s. The underwhelming power delivery, over-anxious brakes, and inconsistent suspension of the mini-ADV left me skeptical of Royal Enfield full lineup. It’s safe to say that I reeked of a dismissive air when I swung a leg over the INT, but my generalization of the brand was quickly remedied with the first whack of the throttle. 

Every motorcyclist knows the feeling of a good pull. It’s when the acceleration pushes you back in the saddle, when the rear shock compresses and the fork lightens, when you tighten your grip on the handlebars for fear of sliding off the back. My first pull on the INT 650 delivered such a sensation, so much that I said (out loud), “Whoa! That’s more like it!”

That 648 cc, single overhead cam engine that sent me hurtling through space and time happens to be the heart of the new Twins. With a torquey low-end power delivery, the engine boasts an exciting edge yet retains an affable disposition. Whether you’re running the Twins through their paces or cruising about town, the middleweight mill is happy to comply. For those hipsters looking for a CB750 or XS650, you no longer have to sacrifice reliability for aesthetics. The GT and INT 650 gives you the best of both worlds with smooth, efficient EFI fuel distribution and cafe racer styling. 

In my short time with the models, engine heat never factored into the equation either. Even with that day’s temperature topping 90° F, the oil/air-cooled mule inside the Twins never skipped a beat, even when the pace hastened. Although Royal’s 650s did get up to interstate speeds without hesitation, I should note that both models feel more at home on surface streets. The torquey motor benefits the urbanite from stoplight-to-stoplight and the lack of wind protection would quickly fatigue riders on longer journeys. 

Along with the punchy power delivery, the width of the frame, handlebars, and pegs allow the commuter to squeeze through the narrowest of spaces. I wish Royal’s Twins were on the market when I started riding because they’re great options for those just starting out, especially when it comes to the controls.

Like all of Royal Enfield’s lineup, the GT & INT opt for simplicity. The company tends to label its approach as “Purist” and a quick glance at the controls will drive that point home. Without the luxury of a TFT display, cruise control, or heated grips, the controls of the Twins are minimalist. That facet helps developing riders concentrate on the road instead of fiddling with menus and settings, allowing them to get comfortable with the clutch, throttle, and most importantly, the brakes.

Both models boast a single 320mm floating rotor with a two-piston ByBre caliper up front and a 240mm floating rotor clamped by a single-piston caliper out back. ByBre, the Indian subsidiary of Brembo, provides the braking components. I know what you’re thinking (Indian-made Brembos?), but the stopping power achieved with these “budget” calipers really do the job. Coupled with the 41mm fork and piggyback shocks, the braking system brings the hefty 450 lb bike to an even and controlled stop. Yes, neither component truly stands out on these bikes, when it comes to brakes and suspension, that’s usually a good thing!

It’s true that the INT & GT 650 share the same 648 SOHC engine, ByBre brakes, double-cradle steel frame, 41mm conventional forks, and coil-over rear suspension. However, they do differ in two major categories: aesthetics and ergonomics. The INT opts for a pseudo-scrambler look with high-rise handlebars (w. crossbar), bench-style seat, and mid-mount pegs. While the GT sports proper cafe racer cosmetics with clip-ons, single-seat (w. cowl), and rear sets. 

Despite the ergo divergence, both the Twins handled responsively, although I wouldn’t call them lithe. The added girth of the larger engine means that the supporting package needs beefing up (compared to other Royal Enfield models). As a result, the 650s weigh more than any other Royal Enfield and the extra poundage is evident in the corners. I wouldn’t label the Twins as unwieldy, but I also couldn’t praise them as flickable.

As a cruiser rider, the upright posture of the INT felt more natural, but the GT also proved the advantages of aggressive body positioning. With my abdomen lower to the tank, wind resistance was less of a factor and the direct input of the clip-ons resulted in a more reactive quality from the front end. Though the INT responded well to all of my inputs, I could dart through traffic on the GT (even if that feeling is primarily psychological - due to the ergonomics). For that reason, I think I’d side with the GT, as I’d primarily use both of Royal Enfield’s 650 in the city - and that’s where most consumers will ride these bikes.

With a base MSRP of $5,799, the GT & INT would be a viable starter bike for commuting students and city-dwellers. While most people warn novice riders against buying a 600+ cc motorcycle out of the gate, the 42 horses and 37 ft-lb of torque make the Twins manageable for newcomers. 

The retro-styling of the models will definitely appeal to a younger crowd and the affordable price point keeps them within reach. New riders tend to focus more on the aesthetics, but they will inevitably drop the bike (…a few times) and a lower price tag always helps to cushion those falls. If I were in the market for a first bike now, I would seriously reconsider buying the Harley-Davidson Sportster Iron 883, and I LOVED that bike.

If you’re new to the sport or searching for your first bike, I’d strongly suggest a test ride of the GT/INT 650. The combination of aesthetics, price point, approachable demeanor, and simplicity make Royal Enfield’s Twins a very attractive package. Not to mention, the 3-year, unlimited miles warranty with roadside assistance, reinforces the build quality of these machines. Believe me, If the company released a dirt-capable twin at a lighter curb weight, I’d be all over it. While that’s irrelevant when it comes to these models, the experience wasn’t for not. 

For me, Royal Enfields Twins were cheap, they were powerful, they just didn’t have taller suspension and knobbies that I’m looking for. Though I don’t plan to purchase the GT or INT 650, I learned that I will need my second bike to be commute-capable. The narrow footprint of the controls illustrated the importance of squirting through tight spaces in an urban environment. I guess my next bike will not only have to be cheap, dirt-capable, lightweight, and powerful but also commuter-friendly. I’m sure I’ll find that package in time, but for now, it’s on to the next bike!

Would you ride a Cafe Racer?

Why or why not?

The tach needle bounced off the red line. The motor screeched. My hands clenched the grips. An 18-wheeler barreled by with a gust of displaced air, pushing the bike - and me - to the side of the highway.

In my quest to find the perfect second motorcycle, I’ve rented an FZ-07. I’ve test ridden Zero’s naked bike, the SR/F, and demoed their dual-sport, the FX. While all of those bikes were great in their own respects, none of them met my criteria: light, dirt-capable, and cheap. So when I heard that Royal Enfield was launching a nationwide tour featuring some of their newest models, I knew there was strong potential to find my scrambling side piece. 

Titled Pick Your Play, Royal Enfield’s demo ride event brought me to the highly revered Southern California Motorcycles in Orange County, CA. If you should know anything about Royal Enfield, it’s that the Indian company relies on classic styling with no-frills engineering. You won’t find traction control or TFT displays on their motorcycles. Liquid-cooling and heated grips aren’t featured on any Royals. Shoot, most of the models don’t even have gear indicators.

It’s this unabashed appeal to the “purist” that differentiates the brand from its competitors while keeping their prices low and their “cool” factor high. However, harkening back to yesteryear not only attracts hipsters it also attracts the riders that were around for the original Cafe-styled bikes: old dudes! And if you’re looking to attract aging gentlemen, you’d be smart to host your demo rides in the bastion of affluent retirees - The OC. 

 Aside from the 3-4 participants that were in my age group, I’d estimate that the majority of the attendees were collecting Social Security. Let’s just say that there was an abundance of high-viz gear and modular helmets. One of my favorite guys was even sporting a shirt with the term “Air-cooled” emblazoned across the chest. Now, please don’t read any of the previous statements as ageism. I LOVE old dude shit (I mean, I ride a Harley). I only point out the age discrepancy because Royal Enfield specifically cast the spotlight on the INT 650 and GT 650 for the Pick Your Play event, two models aimed at a younger rider. 

Though attendance was strong, I’m not sure if Royal Enfield expected this turn out when they pushed off on their 8-city tour. To the company, these retro-cool, city-dwelling models cater to a younger demographic. If I can’t convince you of that fact, maybe the event flyer can…

With all of that in mind, when I approached the sign-in desk to reserve my first demo ride, I did the most “old dude” thing possible, I asked to test out Royal Enfield’s adventure bike: the Himalayan.

The Himalayan was dirt-capable. Check! The Himalayan was light (well, lighter than my Harley). Check! The Himalayan was cheap. Check!  So when I threw my leg over the 31.5 inch-high seat, I couldn’t help but have high hopes for Royal’s compact off-roader.

As the instructor hollered liability terms and the obligatory sales pitch, I looked over the bike. The simplistic, classic lines spoke to my minimalist preferences. The lack of gadgets and rider aids made the model feel immediately approachable. 

With its metal tank, bare-bones instrument cluster, and halogen headlight, the vintage-styled dual-sport looks like it could have been a contestant in the original Dakar Rally of ‘79. Based on looks alone, it would be understandable if you confused the Himalayan for BMW’s iconic R80G/S. But Royal Enfield isn’t sharing market space with Beemer’s first GS, it’s up against a much more advanced generation.

Unlike the leader of the adventure class, BMW’s R 1250 GS, the Himalayan doesn’t boast a navigation system with Bluetooth connectivity, you won’t find a quick-shifter on it, there isn’t an Electronic Suspension Adjustment system, it doesn’t need Hill Start Control (does anybody?). But also unlike the GS, Royal’s ADV isn’t ugly as sin, and that may be the bikes biggest appeal, its aesthetics.

From the exposed sub-frame to the fork gaiters, from the skid plate to the ‘HIMALAYAN’ branded side panels, from the cafe-esque gas tank to the aluminum panniers, Royal Enfield’s thumper is easy on the eyes (as far as adventure bikes go…). The single-cylinder engine, tank guard, and high front fender complete a very tasteful package. But once I finished ogling the thing, I wondered to myself, ‘would function live up to form?’

I settled into the ultra-comfortable seat, grasped the handlebars, and retracted the kickstand. With my right boot resting on the peg, I jammed the shifter into first gear, revved the engine, and slowly released the clutch. To my surprise, the friction zone didn’t engage until I was about 3 quarters of the way out. I’m sure this was a result of tens of thousands of miles racked up on a nationwide demo tour, but it certainly brought back a long lost feeling, as memories of stalling out flashed before my eyes. I thought of the time I bogged the engined and dropped the bike in an intersection. I cringed as the sound of honking horns came rushing back. Thankfully the power kicked in just in time, relieving me of that dreaded “novice” embarrassment (especially in front of these seasoned riders). 

Once I got up to speed, I repositioned my feet, a necessary adjustment on the Himalayan. With the pegs residing directly under the rider and the pedals at a level angle, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to scoot fore or aft on the saddle. I eventually sided with a forward-leaning posture, but that left me feeling as if I was mounting a rocking horse. 

Luckily, I was able to work myself into a passable position as we approached our first light. At a slow roll and with the relatively low seat height (for an ADV), I could duck walk the bike, a comforting attribute when you’re new to adventure riding, even if it makes you feel like a toddler on a pushbike. But it’s when you twist the throttle on the Himalayan that it makes you feel like you’re actually on training wheels.

Touting 25 HP and 20 ft-lb of torque, Royal Enfields little 400 felt like it was running through mud, despite the fact that we were rolling over fresh pavement. Though I didn’t record the time any of my 0-60 mph pulls on the single-cylinder scoot, the combination of the stocky frame and the anemic motor allows me to comfortably hypothesize that it was well into the double digits (in seconds). 

The inherent sluggishness of the Himalayan was most evident in one of the worst places possible: the freeway onramp. As the group merged into the congested lanes of Highway 57, I cranked on the throttle. The tach needle bounced off the red line. The motor screeched. My hands clenched the grips. An 18-wheeler barreled by with a gust of displaced air, pushing the bike - and me - to the side of the highway. 

Luckily our freeway run only lasted a quarter-mile, as the fleet of Royals exited at the very next turnoff. Re-entering the comfortable confines of surface streets allowed me to re-gather my wits and put the Himalayan back where it belonged, on roads with speed limits below 65 mph. At this point in the demo, I saw RE’s little adventurer as a glorified moped with taller suspension and better ergos. It didn’t help that in addition to the unenthused acceleration, the bike didn’t receive any help from the clumsy gearbox. 

At only 5-gears, the transmission felt like an accurate reflection of the Himalayan’s $4,499 MSRP. I found myself unintentionally shifting into neutral several times throughout the ride. It was quite amazing that I could find neutral not only during my upshifts but also during downshifts. The problem is, I was trying to find 1st and 2nd, not neutral. On the other hand, I’m grateful that Royal Enfield outfitted the dash with a gear indicator so I could quickly identify any hiccups with the shifting. That feature was certainly handy when I rolled to a stoplight in 3rd gear, but that’s where the bike really performed - while braking.

Though the engine was more worthy of a golf cart, the brakes felt like they came off a Mack Truck. Sporting a 2-piston caliper up front and a single-pot caliper out back, the braking system of the Himalayan may have been the most impressive aspect of the mini-ADV. While the braking components don’t sound powerful on paper, in concert, they performed with a high level of efficiency and effectiveness, bringing the bike to a halt with immediacy. At times, it felt like the braking power was almost too effective, especially given the bike’s suspension.

Fork dive never results in a good feeling, but with such powerful brakes and flimsy 41mm fork legs, the sensation was inevitable on the Himalayan. Coupling two incongruent systems usually highlights the deficiencies of the pairing rather than the benefits of the exceptional component. Yes, the brakes of Royal’s ADV stood out, but the collapsable front suspension only turned that positive into a negative. 

At the rear, the monoshock exhibited stiffer, more responsive reactions to braking/acceleration and road irregularities, but the inconsistency of the unit also plagued the ride. For a model that’s supposed to spend a good portion of its life in the dirt, I doubt the combination of the underpowered motor, 420lb+ curb weight, and remedial suspension would be helpful off the pavement. I wouldn’t feel comfortable tackling anything more challenging than a fire road on the Royal. That’s especially sad for a bike named the Himalayan. 

On that note, I was relieved that we never rode the bike in the brown. Although you don’t need all the power in the world when you’re riding off-road (in some cases it can be a detriment), you do need to be able to get yourself out of tight spots and over obstacles, two things that seemed daunting to me while riding atop the overweight/underpowered ADV.

The sub-500cc dual-sport market is dominated by motocross-inspired machines originally designed in the ‘90s (& unchanged since) and the Himalayan is a breath of fresh air - even if its design plays on a past era. With retro styling and fuel injection, it’s ironic to say that the Royal Enfield is enlivening the segment. But with most of the models in the category approaching 3 decades of continuous production, it’s nice to see someone trying something different. Even if the dual-sport consumer focuses more on specs than looks, the Himalayan may attract an audience due to the simple fact that it is different.

For me, I don’t think the concessions made in function are worth the nominal boost in form. Weight to power ratios reign supreme in the dual-sport world and RE’s thumper resides at the losing end of both spectrums. Weighing in with the 600s and generating the power of a 250, the only saving grace for the Himalayan is its aesthetics and price. 

I’m not a rider that needs (or wants) Bluetooth connectivity. I’m happy to go without traction control. However, opting for the “purist” route shouldn’t mean sacrificing the performance of the machine. There should be a mean between maximal and minimal, a median between overpriced and underperforming, a middle ground of handsome and hideous. If BMW’s R 1200 GS is the thesis of the Adventure market, the Himalayan is the antithesis, and what I’m looking for is the synthesis of those two ideas.

With that, my search for a perfect second bike will continue. What I thought was an easy feat, seems to be more elusive than I anticipated. Along with light, dirt-capable, and cheap, I’ll need to add a few other attributes to my criteria, and of course, that means I’ll have to test out more motorcycles… 

Poor me ;)