Copyright (c) 2008 GoodMotorcycles.com
The cost of insurance meant I was stuck with bikes around the 250cc mark. For once I wanted something nearly new, having spent too much time up to my elbows in grease and oil in the past. Flipping through MCN I spied a 3000 mile old EL250. It was only down the road so I thought I might as well take a look, even though I wasn’t too sure what I was looking at.
The bike was long, low and lean. Pull-back bars, a seat only just over two feet off the ground and a watercooled, twin cylinder DOHC engine. The overall appearance was a bit ruined by a massive radiator and some misconceived panelling around the headstock. I sat aboard the beast, with a meaty throb out of the slash cut mufflers, and somehow felt right at home. A brief wobble around the streets had me sold!
New they are just under £3000, I was quite happy to pay £2100 for a mere five month old bike. Riding home my thighs felt a bit cramped but the seat was jolly comfortable and the suspension was amazingly compliant after the string of old hacks I’d owned in the past.
The motor needed revs to move. With 27hp at 12000 and 13ftlb at 10,000 revs, Kawasaki obviously didn’t design the motor with low end grunt in mind. It had an extremely short stroke which didn’t help with low speed running. Below 3000 revs there was naff all power and the chain seemed to whip around in the taller gears. Extravagant use of the clutch, throttle and six speed gearbox would make it flow ahead of the traffic, helped by a minimal mass of 310lbs. Surprisingly low given its looks.
I actually found myself stalling the bike a couple of times when I used insufficient revs on take-off. It would have been very embarrassing had not the starter put it back into life first press of the button. It would run quite happily between 3000 and 8000 revs with sufficient power for town work, but only really came in hard between 8 and 12000rpm.
Because the suspension was good, the riding position laid back, town riding was a joy despite the need to play games on the gearbox. Great big pot-holes would wobble the front end a little but most of the shock was absorbed by the forks. The rear suspension was good old twin shocks. I say good because my last bike had a mono-shock arrangement which ruined its bearings every six months. No fear of that with the resilient shocks out back and not a linkage bearing in sight.
I had a 15 mile commute each way to do every day. I thought the EL was ideal, rolling up to work in record time with a big grin on my face. With a 59 inch wheelbase, the Kawasaki was a bit long to swing around the narrower gaps but its easy manoeuvrability and light weight meant that for most of the time I could flick, brake and accelerate with the best of them.
The brakes were perfectly matched to the chassis and performance. A sensible rear drum that was able to provide sensitive braking just up to the point where the wheel was about to lock up. A single front disc brake that needed more power than most but at least was unlikely to lock up the wheel unless a desperate need for stoppies was in the rider’s mind. In fact, it was very hard to get either the front or back wheel off the ground.
The first month of ownership was miraculously dry, so I was used to the bike by the time the first showers hit our great country. My infatuation quickly did a runner. The Dunlops were quite worn but I had not expected them to skate all over the road. And the sit up and beg riding position meant that it was the quickest way known to man to become completely soaked in even the mildest of downpours.
Arriving at work I was shaking from the combination of cold and damp. Cursing the bike like I used to an old vibratory CB125 I once owned. After recovering, returning to the bike at night I was even more annoyed to find that some of the fastenings had a bit of surface rust on them. I’d been quite fastidious about cleaning the EL, there seemed little excuse for such degradation.
The next day was a Saturday, so I headed for the tyre shop, not too happy to find that the rear 140/90x15 wheel was an extremely rare size. I ended up with a 150/90x15 Pirelli that was meant for a bloody great Goldwing. This was so expensive I had to live on beans for the next week, but along with the new front tyre, made it safe on the wet roads and doesn’t seem to have worn at all. It seems a bit strange to have a 15 inch wheel when even Harleys have 16 inchers!
I had to resort to some really heavy nylon waterproofs during the winter. It was the only way to stop the water getting in. I ended up looking like the Michelin Man, making a nonsense of the stylish silhouette of the Kawasaki. I liked the reassuring growl of the twin and the relentless way the EL ran through the worst weather the winter could summon up. Its only foible was reluctant starting, needing the throttle juggled to keep the engine from cutting out until it’d had ten minutes to warm up. The engine was very cold running, the coolant rarely getting hot and bothered.
I gave a few mates in work a pillion ride, trying to educate their cage trained minds. One fell right off the back when I gave her a bit of throttle. Poor guy was still sitting on the ground mouth agape when I came back to see what the hell he was doing. Another got off after a mere ten minutes, with a John Wayne stagger, complaining about the damage done to his wedding tackle. The EL has a pretty minimal pad for pillions to perch upon, which even the frailest of women have problems accommodating. But it’s all part of the style of its cut down rear end!
Two up riding also put some stress on the suspension. It didn’t take much weight to get the shocks so far compressed that the footrests started scraping in bends, although solo it seemed to bank over far enough to start me worrying about going off the edges of the tyres!
Fuel was another downer, coming in at about 50mpg. With just over two gallons that doesn’t give much of a range for a machine, solo, that would probably be capable of doing 200 miles in a session. The back end was so shaped that it made anything bigger than a lunch box very difficult to tie down. As someone used to carrying bags of cement on the back of ancient hacks this was a very real limitation to the EL’s practicality.
The clock now reads 13000 miles. All I’ve done to the motor is add oil and change the filter. I can’t afford dealer services and the valvegear needs a hell of a lot of stripping off of bits to access, but it still runs as well as ever. It seems that modern, watercooled motors, especially when they are mildly tuned like the EL (Honda were making the same power in 1968 from their CB250K1 twin), run on regardless of neglectful maintenance. It does seem strange that such a mild motor has such poor economy, but that’s probably down to its high revving nature and lack of aerodynamic efficiency. It doesn’t consume or leak oil, which is nice after some of the bikes I’ve owned.
With the spring, the bike’s getting back into its element again. Warm weather, dry days and a bit of spirited riding are much more to the taste of the EL. Just before writing this I took it for a run down some favourite country lanes, 70 to 80mph on the clock for most of the time and lots of throwing from side to side. Came back as high as a glue sniffer and with a smile as wide as a comedian in the middle of a hit run.
The EL250 obviously won’t be to everyone’s taste. I’m a bit on the short side so it’s a great relief to find a bike on which I can firmly plant both feet on the ground. I’ve seen a couple advertised around the £2000 mark, so £1750 in used fifties will probably buy a low mileage one. Can’t be bad!
Richard Trellis
Return to Contents for Kawa Customs
One of my mates was taking a month long holiday in Cuba (alright for some) and demanded that I look after his VN1500. The alternative was leaving it shackled to the railings outside his fourth floor flat. No way it would fit in the lift and certainly no way I was going to help him push 550lbs of watercooled vee twin up the stairs. I had to promise, on pain of a vicious beating, not to take the Harley imitator despatching.
Take it despatching? I chortled, trying to direct the head high bars with a semblance of accuracy. Thud, thud, thud, the torque seemed to roar in from tickover revs, a great wave of energy that strained my arms, churned my guts and brought a wide, wide grin to my face. 5000 revs was more than enough, this was a narrow angle vee with a lot of vibration trying to get out, especially with the massive slugs of pistons powering the 1500cc leviathan.
The only way to connect an engine of this mass and capacity to the back wheel is by shaft drive, I consoled myself, after suffering the embarrassment of a false neutral as I tried to snick up to second gear. The best thing that could be said about the gearbox was that there were only four ratios and that once into fourth and out of town there was hardly ever any need to change down. The elephant torque of the engine is mightily impressive, so much so that I didn't really worry about the less than perfect gearbox.
With just 70 horse from 1500cc, the engine is exceedingly lowly tuned and as low revving as a Harley - from a distance it's quite easy to mistake the Kawasaki for the American iron, as the radiator is slimline and the barrels finned. The first time I parked up in town some young lady nearly swooned, under that mistaken impression and I did little to dissuade her of the notion.
The clock read only 4500 miles, which for a watercooled Kawasaki is just run in. The motor was quite noisy but ran perfectly, with no carb glitches and moved with all the steadfastness of a steam engine. That I didn't have to worry about the motor, just tap into the throttle for forward momentum, was just as well because, along with most other custom cruisers, the handling was strange, sinister and savage.
It wasn't bad at low speeds, just a little on the heavy and vague side. It took me a couple of days to become used to it, to become willing to go for the narrow gaps that I wouldn't normally think twice about taking on nominally wider fours. Despite have a big front wheel there was a lack of willingness to track on the required line, quite minor road imperfections had the front wheel skipping off on an unexpected line, the bars flapping in my hands. The front end seemed both heavy and light at the same time.
The bars didn't help, giving a far from natural riding stance, that threatened the integrity of my spine and left my wrists screaming, even at low speeds in town, let alone on the wide, wild highway. Most cruisers are similarly afflicted but the mass, and its distribution, seemed to make the Kawasaki heavier going than most.....after two weeks, though, it felt like the most natural thing in the world and jumping back on to my racier bike became an agony I tried to avoid!
The VN1500 certainly ain't a fast machine. 110mph on the clock was the most I was able to achieve. That needed a most strange stance, with my head between the clocks and my hands a good foot up in the air. The forward mounted pegs were, of course, entirely unsuited to such abuse, and my legs became so cramped so quickly that I sought relief on the pillion pegs. The tank was so thrilled by this excess that it tried to vibrate apart and, for once, the silencers let loose a gravelly noise that knocked pigeons off their perches. Five minutes was the most I could hold speeds above 80mph, 70mph, with those bars, being the most practical cruising speed.
The vague steering never really went away, but a steady 70mph on a smooth motorway proved tolerable, although going any faster made the VN do a passable imitation of a Z900 on stock suspension. By the time the ton was on the clock I wouldn't have let go of the handlebars for anything.
Cornering was another matter. In town it felt okay once used to the mass and a slight tendency to fall into the bend. A couple of times I had to risk breaking a leg by dabbing down a boot to stop the heap falling over when I took a corner like I would on a 125. Slow and steady was the watchword. Turning in narrow gaps was limited by the VN's excessive length and I only had to try once, to push it backwards a bit, to realise that it was a two, or even three, man job!
It took a while to become used to the effort needed to flick her through fastish bends. A lot of its 550lbs mass is carried quite low, but the suspension always seems hard pressed when it's thrown from side to side with any amount of gusto, although after a month I have the bulging forearms of a professional tennis player. As with the straight line stuff, it was tolerable up to 70 or 80mph, thereafter it was too easy to overshoot the required line and end up testing the off-road capability.
Twin rear shocks and conventional forks are, within the context of the cruiser idiom, reasonable but they are set up more towards absorbing bumps than ensuring that both wheels remained pointing in the same direction. If it was my bike, I'd put on some proper bars and stiffer suspension; I had no intimidations that the frame had any inherent weakness, would expect these mild mods to make the Kawasaki much more useful. As it was, I never came close to checking out the limits of the ground clearance. Cowardice ruled - both of being beaten up by the owner on his return and from a total disinclination to test my body against the tarmac.
The front brake was rather too inspired by Harley myths, HD discs being renown for their inability to lose speed in desperate circumstances. I'd become pampered by modern bikes that just need a finger or two on the lever to howl the front tyre. On the VN, it needed a full grip and fear assisted muscle to haul up in time, although in the wet this lack of fierce power was as welcome as the excess of engine braking. A rear drum gave the back end a nice clean appearance but could've been a bit more sensitive; there was little hope of locking the wheel with so much mass.
The first time I rode at night was a bit of a shocker, the front headlamp would've been very impressive for an Iron Curtain hack, but for a six grand motorcycle was pathetic. After a bit of eye strain, it turned out to be safe for 40mph country road saunters and just adequate for warning other road users of my presence (the horn could've been louder, too).
After ten days, the chance to ride up to Manchester occurred. The VN was an obvious choice for a laid back A-road sortie. No haste, just a nice summer day to enjoy with a bit of fluff on the back. I checked the oil and bunged two and a half gallons in the petrol tank. It was nice not to have to worry about a chain, the lack of oil being thrown all over the place made a significant difference to the ease with which the bike could be kept clean.
The woman was quite impressed with the seat and backrest, whilst I cursed having to wear a helmet, otherwise my head would've found a nice soft spot, a natural pillow on the moll's chest. Mind you, that would've been such a distraction that I'd have ridden right off the road.
Lots has been written about the joys of low revving big singles and vees. Most of it seems to excuse mediocre, agricultural engineering that should have died an early death long ago. The Japanese are experts at producing sophisticated engineering, are often accused of killing the soul of motorcycling in the process, of making engines that are a touch too electric and bland. The VN1500's an interesting blend of advanced engineering and basic motorcycle grunt, that with the right attitude works exceedingly well.
That attitude involves riding at speeds that wouldn't trouble a sixties British twin, lining the thing up well in advance for corners and enjoying the scenery. Brief bursts of acceleration to remove erring cagers from the scene were often necessary but consisted of nothing more than opening the throttle and holding on to the bars. That great flow of torque brought a smile to my face every time.
And, yes, it was a pleasant way of doing a few hundred miles. Motorways I tried to avoid as hardly anyone runs along at a mere 70mph, and any more than that for more than a few minutes was likely to lead to a quick trip to the loony farm. The only real trauma that I suffered happened when we ran over a rough patch of tarmac at about 60mph. I wasn't expecting the sudden change in surface texture, the Kawa was so shook about that at first I thought it'd blown a tyre! Hitting both brakes with brute force saved us, but for the next couple of miles the chewed up road surface had us down to a pathetic 30 to 35mph. Even at that most moderate speed, the beast wanted to run wide in the bends.
The other thing to look out for on long runs is the fuel, which at 50mpg wasn't unreasonable for such a huge heap but it meant that come a 100 miles of happy cruising it was time to start looking for a gas station. The comfort factor was fine for that kind of mileage at the enforced low speeds we were doing, and I could've probably lasted for two times that distance without developing a serious case of piles.
With a woman on the back, there were several shopping and food stops, so it took us a good ten hours to reach Manchester from London, which was okay as I'd left at dawn and didn't end up riding in the dark. Surprisingly, we were both in excellent spirits with no nasty cramps or complaints. And believe me if the seat had been less than plush my pillion would've let me know in no uncertain manner - she still went on for hours about the time I took her on the back of a GSXR750 for half a day!
She had loads to complain about on the journey home, though it wasn't really any fault of the VN that it poured down all the way. It was raining when we left Manchester, so we had the chance to get togged up, and it didn't stop until we reached the capital. It took two hours to prove that my waterproofs were not aptly named, mainly a result of riding position encouraging the water to concentrate itself on the front of my person.
There was nothing for it but to carry on regardless, something helped by the mellow beat of the big vee and the reasonable grip of the Japanese tyres; the mass of the machine ensuring that it felt well planted on roads awash with water. Vision was so poor that only an idiot wouldn't have tried to do more than 50mph and the caged morons who shot past at twice that defy definition!
About 120 miles from home the engine started to run funny, cutting out on to one cylinder and, a little later, going completely dead. Clutch in, freewheel to the side of the road, the woman swearing like a docker at this unscheduled stop. I hoped it was something simple, like water in the electrics. I emptied a can of WD40 over the engine and switches, said a couple of prayers and tried to get the shivering fit under control. Pressed the starter - cough, cough, cough then boom, boom, boom; we were back in business.
It did the same trick on the outskirts of London, sent the back wheel into a locked up skid as there was a sudden massive mismatch between engine revs and road speed. For once, I gave thanks to the leverage of the bars and twitched the mammoth back on line, the drenched woman going into another swearing fit. Luckily, the engine caught on its own accord, so all I had to do was make it back to base on autopilot.
It was then I'd realised that my own machine had been nicked. Again! There was nothing for it but to use the Kawasaki as a DR tool, despite my fervent promises and the threat of being torn limb from limb. My appearance at the office was greeted with much hilarity, especially after I'd tried to manoeuvre the VN up on to the pavement and ended up being thrown into the gutter as it toppled over.
As anyone who's despatched in London knows, it's damn hard work hurtling a motorcycle between cages even on a lightweight cycle. The VN's a big bugger and after two hours I had to have a break. My delivery times were way down and I felt like I'd done a round in the boxing ring.
I'd soon found that the best way to ride the Kawasaki was to leave it in second, ignore the vibes and shaft chatter, just ride it everywhere on the throttle. That meant I could devote my full attention to avoiding the cages. Doing something normal, like running up on to the pavement wasn't possible, the front wheel tried to dig in, the forks felt like they were going banana shaped and the bars tried to leap out of my hands. Too many times I ended up trapped in traffic, screaming abuse at the cages at the top of my voice. By the end of the day I was a nervous wreck and completely hoarse.
None of my so-called friends would lend me a more suitable machine, so I had to hustle the wretched VN for a whole week. The poor thing was encased in grime by then with a clutch that had become a bit vehement and an engine that sounded more like a thirty year old diesel than a nearly new piece of Japanese high technology. I decided I was going to have to change my address to avoid retribution but, amazingly, all it took to put her back in order was a jetwash and an oil change, the lubricant coming out murky white and as thin as water.
I became so horrified by the near misses I was having that I bought a two hundred quid Superdream, which seemed wonderful as a despatch hack. Couldn't fault it for the first week until I became completely enraged by its lack of power. No pleasing some people.
After the DR debacle the VN, totally unfairly (but then who thinks it's a fair world?), was consigned right to the bottom of my list of desirable motorcycles and I only had one more serious ride on the thing. That was a motorway saunter down to Bristol, 70mph all the way, playing it safe in the slow lane. I tried to think cool, to get in the mood to enjoy the cycle but it didn't work. I haven't got the imagination to transform the boring M4 into Route 66, and, deep down, I don't have the patience to enjoy the cruiser experience.
The best thing about the VN1500 is the engine and its 90ftlb of torque. Installed in a proper chassis I could get very interested, but as a cruiser it seems way out of place in the UK. Like the current crop of retros, why bother when you can buy the real thing (Triumph or Ducati), when a big Harley twin can be acquired for the same kind of money, and even if it's inferior in every area no-one's going to give a damn when a hard used, hard charging 125 replica can burn these old hulks into the ground.
Dick Lewis
Return to Contents for Kawa Customs
Some custom styles work very well, others come out as a complete mess, defining the difference between American and Japanese tastes. The EN450 is, of course, an example of the latter. It's not all bad, the watercooled vertical twin motor's reasonably tough and the thing more or less goes where it's pointed, unlike many customs. And, it's significantly cheaper than the GPZ500.
I bought my 1987 example in 1992 for only 700 sovs. I thought it was a real bargain as the condition was immaculate, the mileage a mere 8000 and the engine ran as if new. The owner had tried to off-load the Kawasaki for a whole six months, the price coming down each time he advertised. I still believe that if I wanted to sell then I could do so without incurring a loss.
A lot of my biking is in town, the cruiser riding position being a bonus rather than a liability. What a delight to swing through traffic in armchair comfort, yet on a bike that was nicely narrow and had a lot of grunt. I was never tired or stressed, even after a cross London run that had cagers eating their suits in sheer frustration.
Fuel was quite poor, though, around 45mpg, the EN needing a steady dose of 70mph cruising to improve frugality to 50mpg. Unlike some bikes, it never had a speed range where economy became excellent. Cruising at over 80mph turned in only 40mpg and I even managed 30mpg on one memorable motorway thrash.
Memorable because it involved an hour's worth of 100mph cruising with my head in the clocks and feet on the pillion pegs. When the devil drives needs must, so to say - I was late for a job interview and had to make up time somehow. Usually, discomfort stopped me going much above 80mph.
The EN450 remained pretty smooth, actually feeling better the harder the motor was revved. Pistons move up and down alternatively and a gear driven balancer takes care of the remaining out of phase pulses and secondary imbalances. The only odd part of the motor is that rather than long lasting gear primary drive there's a hyvoid chain, albeit a bloody big one, which adds to the engine's rattles rather than threatening longevity. Considering that sixties Japanese twins had gear drive this is a totally incomprehensible piece of design but one that should not put you off purchasing one of these bikes.
Naturally, part of the charm of cruisers is the ability to load up with the camping gear and beautiful bimbo, to head into the sunset with a song in my heart and bulge in my trousers. Women were not immediately won over by the appearance of the EN but quickly became reassured by the relative comfort of their perch and the gentle nature of the acceleration, which often meant excessive play on the gearbox two-up to avoid being seen off by rat 250 Superdreams and the like.
Handling remained tolerable up to 80mph, the greatest threat to life and limb coming from the compressed suspension letting the undercarriage ground into the tarmac. This sent shivers of fear through the girlfriend who would hang on for dear life, not realising that such intimacy was so distracting I was more likely to ride off the road than pull the bike back from the hereafter.
Any kind of motorcycle adventure requires faith in the bike and the EN never gave a moment's cause for concern, the watercooling and advanced engineering living up to their reputation for durability. I never broke down once, even when riding through the most torrential rain that made me think we were in the tropics rather than England's green and pleasant land. High mileages in a day were much more limited by the comfort (good for 200 miles before I started squirming around) than any thought of the engine giving up in despair.
Of course, there were the odd occasions when I yearned for a bit more top end power. Aren't there always? The worst obstacle was shooting past convoys of caravans moving in both directions. This was real frustration country and the lack of go above 80mph meant that the girlfriend came close to being knee-capped a couple of times when I misjudged the time it would take to cover the distance between two converging caravans.
I made one chap veer off to the side, the huge caravan on the back of his Volvo (smirk) seemed to wobble like a giant, terrifying blancmange. I glanced at the beetroot red face of the driver who was either fuming with anger or fear; then screamed as the caravan seemed to totter over towards the bike. Somehow it flicked back the other way in time and we literally scraped through the gap, the girlfriend gaining a layer of white paint to her black leather jeans (so sexy, man!) and ageing about ten years.
Generally, she seemed in favour of the pillion perch and was even persuaded to give the controls a twirl. The EN450's light, narrow, and well balanced with a low seat height and easily controlled power output - in other words a much better learner than many a stroker 125. She got on fine with the bike and I rather enjoyed taking her from behind (at least in my mind) as we lurched along. Her only real fault was that she forgot to put her feet down when we came to a halt; luckily, I was quick enough to save us.
She was slightly less impressed by the motorcycle experience when some clown in a Metro compensated for the pathetic nature of his cage by ramming the side of the EN. The disturbing shudder of violence threw the bike down the road. It was so unexpected, so impossible to believe that anyone would do something so stupid that I was absolutely gobsmacked. One moment all was well with the world, the next I was rudely thrown on to the tarmac. The girlfriend's leathers saved her from any serious injury and the EN survived with a bent peg and lever (thanks to the engine bars) but that didn't stop a deep rage and consequent slugging match with the cager.
As I was wearing leathers and helmet I was quite well protected from his blows whilst my motorcycle boots were brilliant at enhancing my kicks. He was bigger than me but after five minutes he was crying like a baby after I delivered a vicious kick to his balls, the echo of breaking bones staying with me for a long time. I gave his car a few kicks for good measure and rode off full of macho pride, etc, etc.
The EN wobbled away for a few miles but that was just the aftershock of the violence leaving me shaking....I'm normally an easy going kind of chap. Which is why the Kawasaki suits me fine for most of the time. The only major improvement I yearn after is a bit more midrange grunt, rather like a 650 Bonnie without the shakes which would probably mean a 600cc version of the EN or radically retuned version of the GPZ500 (both engines started out as a 400 to meet the Japanese home market requirements). Overall, though, the 450's not so bad that I would be willing to spend loads of dosh upgrading.
My bike hasn't even worn out the final drive yet, although the exhaust is becoming a little louder. The only engine maintenance I've done is 3000 mile oil changes (and one oil filter), although the valves are screw and locknut adjustable they are a real pain to get at so I've never bothered (which may explain why some bikes have top end problems). The EN450 may not quite make it amongst the Easy Rider crowd but it's been a very easy ride so far!
Dave Late
Return to Contents for Kawa Customs
A three month old, really immaculate VN750 fell into my hands at a price I couldn't turn down. I'd been wandering around the grey importers looking for a steal but it was the same old story. Overpriced relics from the seventies in the form of Yank cruisers that would throw you off at the first sign of an English back road. Or race replica imports from Japan that were too silly to contemplate. The VN came along just as I becoming desperate, but I didn't let on to the guy who was selling.
The VN's a relatively rare cycle in the UK. An 749cc vee twin but as complex as such a device can get - watercooled, four valves, DOHC's, shaft drive...at least the valves were hydraulically adjusted (as per Harley) and the mill knocked out a reasonable 65 horses - any more power in a custom's damned dangerous. The power delivery's somewhat muted by the fact that the Kawasaki weighs close to 500lbs, an outrageous excess for a 750cc vee twin but pretty normal for this kind of custom.
Styling's everything with this type of machine. The VN has a nice chunky engine that looks butch and defines its general outline but the airfilter's a mess, the seat looks rather odd (couldn't they have copied Corbin's excellent stuff?) and some of the detailing's poor. From a reasonable distance the Vulcan impresses, though the name does cause nerds to come up through cracks in the pavement to sprout Star Trek jokes, but close up it begins to fall apart.
The rider's view is reassuring but the laid back riding position, with the pegs so far forward I felt I was on a reclining armchair, takes some time before it becomes natural. Comfort's okay up to about 60mph. 80mph's possible for very short periods and putting the ton on the clock is close to purgatory - the wind blast was so strong that I had visions of being whipped out of the seat and hanging on for dear life with my whole body parallel to the machine.
With its weight and oddly shaped bars I had trouble posing in town, though the overall feel's well balanced and I could rumble down to 5mph with both feet still up on the pegs. It was, however, dead easy to make the bike whip over on its side when trying to navigate tiny gaps between cars. The length of the thing didn't help, either, though it undoubtedly aided stability on motorways and the like.
One curious moment was when I found myself amidst a pack of Harleys, all ridden by hard men in cut-off denims and identical beards with old slags on the pillions. I shocked them by accelerating away - the VN does have a grunty engine with scads of torque - and wobbling through a series of bends with sparks flying from the exhaust, the fifteen inch back wheel trying to skid off the road. The Dunlop tyres were made from a particularly hard compound that showed as little sign of wear as grip!
I rode as fast as I ever had on the Vulcan for the next five miles until I was assured that the 'Hells Angels' weren't going to catch up with me. I was impressed that I'd managed to burn off those stonking great 1340cc monster bikes, though they'd all gone the low rider route and had insufficient ground clearance to avoid being decimated by raised manhole covers.
One strange aspect of the VN was that it made an awful lot of mechanical noise, especially when warming up, yet was smooth - Kawasaki had combined rubber engine mounts with a balance shaft. The exhaust had the same kind of soul stirring note as a big Harley (it came with non-standard slash pipes), although it never made the earth shake the way a big Harley managed (there, that should stop them stringing up all VN owners after I said they sounded similar).
The exhaust note, and the beat of the engine, are all important on a custom as they are supposed to be ridden in a laid back manner - ie slowly. Here the Vulcan wasn't quite right. Where most Harleys feel dead on at 60mph (in fact, they feel as if they are falling apart if you try to go much faster), the VN felt a touch impatient. The motor seemed to run best, most naturally, at 70 to 80mph, which strained my whole body with the way the riding position conjured up a howling gale. I certainly had a good work out in exchange for avoiding being run down on the motorway.
Different gearing would've been the answer. Yeah, dead easy, just tear off the shaft drive, fit a sprocket on the gearbox's output shaft and bung in a new back wheel. I don't think so! The shaft was pleasant enough, with minor miles on the clock the UJ's hadn't had a chance to wear and all the spines still had plenty of grease on them. There was insufficient ground clearance (and a lack of suicidal instincts) to really test the final drive in extremis but I had no nasty moments, even on some vilely wet, slippery road. The total lack of maintenance was nice.
I'm not so effusive about the gearbox. It was by no means bad yet was a tad unpredictable. Some days it was as slick as a Thai masseur, others' there was some crunchiness and the need to take particular care on the throttle. Though it might appear, at times, agricultural it never actually missed a change. Maybe a good bargaining point when buying a used one, but nothing to cause sleepless nights.
The twin discs out front proved shockingly powerful when used in anger, but once I was used to the lack of pressure they needed, performed so well that the forks could be made to leap about in the headraces - may just've been the legs flexing! Remember when chop builders thought it was neat to use a tiny drum front brake right out of a moped? Dangerous days. The rear brake was a drum but as I hardly used it I can't really comment on its ability, though it made the back end look much cleaner and neater - mightily important on a custom.
Suspension wasn't total mush and seemed to complement the comatose-inducing riding position. It would be easy enough to get it seriously crossed up but that's not the point - the comfort it affords is much more important than any proficiency it might lack as a back road hustler. Don't blame Kawasaki for this, Harley Davidson has defined the criteria by which customs are judged and manufacturers who ignore such constraints don't sell many bikes - the market rules!
Given the slowness of the pace, economy was poor - 40 to 50mpg (worse than an 883 HD) - but the three gallon petrol tank was quite generous, gave more than enough range. By then I was all for a quick stretch of my legs. At petrol stations some cager would often come up to me and express admiration for the glossy lines of the Vulcan. A hit with the car world, then, or maybe I just looked a lot less threatening than your average Harley rider.
In six months I did 4500 miles. Didn't touch the engine, didn't even have to put any in oil, The clock read 8300 miles when one of the aforementioned cagers decided he just had to have it. I walked away with a grand's profit. Probably, the greatest thing against the VN's that it's similarly priced to an 883 Sportster, which possesses all the street credibility. It obviously doesn't have the same technological advances as the Vulcan's engine, but then in a cycle which is designed for cruising rather than speed, who needs them? The vintage feel of the Harley's all part of its charm but the VN's more civilized.
Ed Jacks