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! Read the rest of this entry »