I have already mentioned that the Versys strikes me as the Subaru of motorcycles. No, it’s not all-wheel-drive, but – like Subarus – it does seamlessly blend sporty road performance with practicality, character, and all-road capability. It’s a sport bike at heart, but it’s so much more, and with almost none of the drawbacks inherent to more narrowly-focused canyon-carvers.
It is a bit tall, though. Bob at Montgomeryville Cycle Center forewarned me that Kawasaki made one mistake with the Versys: they built it about two inches too tall for the average rider. The first time I threw a leg over it before driving off from the dealership, I had to more or less throw my knee onto the seat, and then slide my leg across. My 30-inch inseam will not allow me to just jump onto the Versys. Later, I found myself doing the ballet mount, tossing my leg onto the seat heel-first, then hopping closer to the bike on my other foot, much like one is forced to do when the passenger seat is loaded with a ton of gear. While the ballet method felt more comfortable, I felt a little weird mounting the bike like that in front of other people; I already pulled some laughs from strangers while getting on my loaded VFR that way last year. If it only had a center stand, I’d feel most comfortable mounting it like I would a horse, stepping onto the left foot peg before throwing my right leg over.
The most amazing thing about the height of the Versys, though, is that it doesn’t feel at all top-heavy. Other bikes of similar weight – shorter bikes – have felt much more unstable at low speeds and at rest. Harley Sportsters, Suzuki Bandit 1200, and others have felt as if they had an anvil mounted on top of the tank by comparison. The Versys’ compact motor, mounted low, lends itself to a low center of gravity despite the ride height, not unlike the low-slung boxer motor from Subaru.
2009 Kawasaki Versys. Driving it off the lot.
Once on the Versys, though, the reach to the ground is not so bad. Sure, the first time I stopped in the parking lot I found myself frantically reaching for the ground; it wasn’t where I was used to finding it, but rather a few inches past that. A few more stops and I had learned to put my foot down toe-first instead of heel-first or flat-footed. On the road, I realized I had to start making conscious decisions on which foot to put down at a stop when the roadway surface is slanted. I’m a strong proponent of stopping with my right foot on the rear brake and putting the left foot down. This was almost my undoing at one intersection where the roadway sloped away to the left. Luckily, I was able to drop my right foot and shift my weight before the whole shebang drifted too far to the left. It’s a small thing, really, to get used to, but there’s always the option of a lowering kit available from Motowerx if I find myself continuing to curse my dwarfish legs.
The cockpit is comfortable, with a wide seat and wide handlebars that provide a natural reach. The rider’s foot pegs are a little high, compared to the relaxed upper-body ergos. After a full day of riding, I found my right knee hurting a little, like it does occasionally on the VFR. While I never found myself needing to shift my body to lean into a corner, even at brisk speeds, I would imagine the position of the foot pegs was intended to allow for that, just as it does on more common sport bikes. The dash layout is spartan by today’s standards: a big analog tachometer flanked by a simple LCD speedometer that also switches displays between the odometer, trip meters, and clock. The usual idiot lights are present, but are recessed behind a tinted cover, and really give off a modern feel to the minimalistic display. The switchgear includes four-way flashers, as well as the ultra-cool trigger-actuated high-beam, for shooting slow cars out of the way. “Pew! Pew! Pew!” Crash and burn into the right lane, so I can pass!
Idling in the shop’s parking lot, I blipped the throttle. The parallel-twin motor has this nice lumpy idle, and a pleasant beat to it when the cans are made to accelerate, not unlike the Subaru’s boxer motors with their unequal-length headers. And the exhaust note is much more of a low growl than I would have expected from a middleweight twin with stock exhaust. It smooths out as the rpms rise, so highway cruising is relatively quiet and vibration-free.
Clicking the Versys into gear for the first time, I initiated forward motion very gently as I had read somewhere that this bike had a surprising amount of torque, and combined with the height it was a handful to launch quickly without the front end coming up. I don’t know about all that – I wasn’t trying to “launch” it – but the new clutch and the low-end grunt made for a surprising start. No real drama, but it moved – quickly – and rolled on smoothly from low rpms.
When running into Versys owners over the past few months, one of my regular questions was about the power. Even from riders that looked much larger and heavier than I am, and with their bikes loaded with luggage, not one of them said they felt the Versys was low on power. The overwhelming consensus was that it has just enough. Riding around eastern PA for two days – a combination of back roads and highways – I never found myself feeling the Versys was short on power, but rather blaming myself for not downshifting more often. There IS just enough power, but the rider needs to know how to access it. While the majority of the motor’s maximum torque comes on very early, steep hills and quick passes do require some action at the shift lever. But that’s to be expected at this displacement; liter-bikes are for lazy riders and those that don’t know how to pack light.
I read on the Versys forums (www.kawasakiversys.com) someone described the Versys as “a sportbike on stilts.” After hitting some twisty roads around Hawk Mountain, I can see how that description applies. The feel from the cockpit is like riding a light and nimble dual-sport on the road; the wide handlebars give plenty of leverage, making steering inputs feel very light. But once the bike enters a turn, it’s planted as well as any sport bike that was built for the street. A sporty 160 rear tire provides plenty of traction, and the adjustable suspension (preload and compression damping) keeps everything in touch with the ground. Many roads in southeastern PA get left in various states of disrepair for years at a time, victims of occasionally brutal winters, but the Versys handles them all just fine. The suspension stays taught like a budget sport bike, but without the punishment of a harsh ride over broken pavement. No more jarred joints because I failed to spot the sunken manhole cover in time. Even though it requires the use of the spanner wrench to adjust the preload, with the rear shock being side-mounted, adjustments are easily made on the side of the road.
Despite the width of the handlebars, the Versys still allows me to sit straight up, placing nearly all of my upper body weight square on my butt where it belongs. Even with the Heli-Bars fitted on my VFR, I used to find myself slipping the transmission into neutral at every stoplight, so I could relax my hands and wrists. In an 8-hour day of riding the Versys, only twice did I shift into neutral and release the clutch at a stop. The lack of weight on my wrists while riding, as well as the light pull on the cable-actuated clutch, meant my hands were never in need of relief.
Sitting straight up in the saddle is a new trick for me. Even the “standard” bikes I’ve owned in the past have mostly been fitted with low handlebars that pulled my short frame forward over the tank. The first time I looked back over my shoulder to see if the next lane was clear, I realized how much of a chore that simple task was on other bikes. Hunched forward on the VFR, I had to lift my head up and look OVER my shoulder, a process that left me depending more and more on my little mirrors towards the end of a long day. Sitting upright on the Versys, putting my head on swivel is as effortless as it is when I’m off the bike.
With my head in the wind, I expected some helmet buffeting, but it never came. The oem windshield has three positions, and is held in place with hex-head bolts and nuts, requiring the toolkit to adjust it. In the middle position, I had some wind hitting my upper chest and helmet, but it was never turbulent. Even when the wind was gusty in the wake of a storm that had just passed, my head didn’t get knocked around at speed. I’ll play around with it at all three height settings to see if any of them seems better than the others, but I have no complaints as it is now.
My Versys came with the Kawasaki side cases and rack already installed. The luggage is built by Givi – the bags are their V35 model, believe – and has the color-matched panels which really add to the overall aesthetics of the bike. The soft Givi bag liners I’ve been using with the E45 cases on my VFR don’t seem to fit very well in these cases. The rectangular liners have a semi-rigid bottom to help keep their shape, and it doesn’t jive with the shape of the Kawasaki bags too well. I found myself stuffing the corners of the liner bag into the case. I’m thinking I might want to pick up some more generic soft waterproof bags of a more appropriate size to use as liners before I go taking a long trip loaded up.
I gave some thought to what I would want to modify on the Versys prior to a trip to Canada we have planned for two weeks in September. The list ends up being very short. I’ll start next week with some clear adhesive film to protect the beautiful paint on the tank from my legs. Definitely some kind of heated hand grips before heading into cooler areas, but that would be on the list with any bike that didn’t come with them. The Versys’ fairing and windshield, while effective at smoothing the air flow, don’t appear to be significant enough for keeping harsh weather off of me, so I will peruse the aftermarket for a larger windscreen. To further the weather protection, I may invest in handguards, if only to make use of the plastic covers for keeping cold air and rain off of my hands. I couldn’t really come up with anything else, unless I find myself in need of more carrying capacity, in which case I’ll pick up the rear luggage rack. Time will tell if I need the lowering kit or not.
The long and short of it: The Versys has plenty of power, if you know how to shift. Despite the ergos, it can definitely be considered a (very forgiving) sport bike. It’s a sport-tourer for the real world. It will go on any road, at any speed. Carve up that canyon without worrying about every little crack and bump in the road surface. It’s a great tool for just getting on-board and twisting the throttle.
If you absolutely must have your Subaru turbo-charged, you may want to wait and see what Kawasaki has up its sleeve in terms of a Versys 1000 (or check out the liter-bikes from the competition like Triumph’s Tiger 1090). I’m thinking a 1000cc version will lose its light and nimble personality in exchange for forward thrust; a compromise that I would not welcome at this point. I love my “little” Versys just the way it is.
Keep an eye out for some Versys-specific aftermarket items from Todd – such as driving light mounting brackets – in the near future!
