Kawasaki Z1000.
At some point in recent years, apparently when I wasn’t paying attention, styling of your basic street motorcycle (call it a standard, a naked bike, or whatever you prefer) split into two distinct branches. Now, those branches have grown so far apart, with just about nothing in between, that they hardly seem like they could fit into the same category.
And maybe they don’t.
Look at the Kawasaki Z1000 above, for example.
This is a model that would have had straightforward styling not that many years ago: a powerful motorcycle tuned for street use, with moderate ergonomics. Not a race replica built only for going as fast as possible on a track, with the engine turning near redline. Not a cruiser with a feet-forward riding position that puts style first, style second, style third and performance ninth. Not a touring bike that puts comfort first, cargo capacity second, comfort third, gizmos fourth, and comfort fifth.
A few years ago, in explaining the styling of the Z1000, Kawasaki used images such as a crouching predator. Envision a cougar stalking its prey, head low, muscular shoulders rippling as it slowly moves toward some doomed creature, and it’s easy to see the inspiration in the low, evil-eyed headlight nacelle and the curve and bulge of the tank.
This is an honest street motorcycle, with a big, powerful engine that’s rationally tuned for street use, ergonomics that give me the best chance of controlling the bike and the least chance of being in pain after 100 miles, and little in the way of frippery I don’t need. This is the kind of motorcycle that resonates with me. My longest motorcycle relationship in life is with a 1997 Speed Triple that I still love and nurse along. I want to love bikes like the Z1000.
Instead, I have doubts. Do I really want to ride a puma?
If it’s not big cats, it’s big bots
Japanese stylists apparently grew tired of turning out great motorcycles that consumers first called “boring” and then ignored. I don’t blame them. Think of a bike like the Honda 919. It worked just fine. Consumers strolled right past it in the showroom without a second glance to buy race replicas and cruisers that didn’t work half as well on the street but had more style.
“Standard” was the kiss of death, not that many years ago. Who wanted a “standard” bike? Maybe we wanted some of what those motorcycles offered, such as sensible ergonomics and an engine tuned for real-world performance. But dammit, we’re talking motorcycles, here. Most consumers, in the U.S. market, at least, put style ahead of other considerations when buying a motorcycle in a way that doesn’t apply to most car buyers. The best-selling car in the United States is the Toyota Camry. Very functional. Reliable. A safe bet.
How many people ever walked into a motorcycle showroom looking for the two-wheeled equivalent of a Toyota Camry? A handful, maybe. Not many more. Motorcycle buyers in general are like car enthusiasts. They’re looking for a certain style, a certain kind of performance. Not an anonymous appliance. Not something that can be called “standard.”
So we ended up with crouching predators.
Now, however, we’ve moved on from Kawasaki’s curvaceous predators and seem to be in the land of evil bots. Take a look at the 2017 Yamaha FZ-10.
Yamaha FZ-10.
On one hand, I have no doubt this is a fantastic motorcycle by all functional measurements. My RevZilla correspondent Spurgeon got to ride it at the press intro in the North Carolina mountains, and he was not disappointed. In terms of performance, you have that great engine from the Yamaha YZF-R1, sophisticated electronics and ergonomics suited for the real world rather than Valentino Rossi at Mugello.
But… but… the styling.
BMW S 1000 R.
It looks like the carcass of the bike was magnetized and dragged through a junk yard. Whatever stuck, they left. All these bits and pieces stuck on like metal shavings on a magnet. And the fake air scoops. I’m already on record about what I think of those.
The European bikes don’t go to the extremes of bots and predators that the Japanese bikes assume, but even the relatively straightforward styling of the BMW S 1000 R, for example, shows the kind of lop-eyed face that makes it look like it went a few rounds in the ring and is losing on points with the judges.
I not only understand, I also sympathize. Nobody wants to pen a bike that’s boring. But I feel a little self-conscious throwing a leg over a crouching predator or a rejected extra from “Transformers.”
And that leaves me with the other, equally uncomfortable styling branch: nostalgia.
On the other hand… we’re stuck in the 1970s
The other styling branch of standard, unfaired motorcycles has taken a hard left turn into nostalgia. This is a classic case of large corporations coming late to a grassroots trend and trying to cash in on it. I knew this trend was ripe when I had three different young urban women telling me their stories about buying a 1970s Honda CB350/360 for their first-ever motorcycle. That’s not coincidence. It’s a fad. No wonder the prices of used 1970s Honda “standards” went through the roof.
Ducati Scrambler Flat Track Pro.
I’ll give Ducati credit for moving first, fast and hard with the Scrambler line. The best part was that these new motorcycles were not just exercises in nostalgia, which could be said of the porky Triumph Scrambler that preceded them. The Ducatis were actually fun, functional bikes that looked really good, at least in the eyes of those with the right aesthetic perspective.
Personally, though, I’m just not into nostalgia. I don’t dislike the looks of the cool motorcycles from the 1960s (the cafe racer craze of recent years) or the 1970s (the scrambler wave now crashing on the shores). I’m less on board with the 1940s (see the Triumph Bonneville Bobber unveiled today). I just prefer something with modern looks to match modern performance. Just an honest motorcycle that looks like what it is.
BMW R nineT Racer.
Some believe the nostalgia trend is played out, and it’s often the case that by the time large corporations spot grassroots trends (the cafe racers, street trackers and scramblers the kids love) and tool up to capitalize on them with mass production goods, the trend has ended. Ducati has added Scrambler models, Triumph has doubled the size of its Bonneville line and BMW is quickly turning out new models in its “Heritage” line, beginning with the R nineT, continuing with this year’s R nineT Scrambler and adding next year’s R nineT Racer and Pure. I wonder if they’re all late to the party.
My 1997 Triumph Speed Triple.
A motorcycle, not a statement
For me, riding a motorcycle is about the act, not the symbolism. I’m not projecting an image or rebelling against anything. I just physically enjoy riding far more than I’ve ever enjoyed driving a car. Now I admit that I don’t mind the fact that it puts me in the minority and differentiates me from the herd, but if I moved to Saigon, where more people ride motorcycles than drive cars, I wouldn’t switch to a car just to be different.
I guess that’s why I gravitate toward bikes like my Speed Triple. Sure, it has a distinctive style, but it’s not pretending to be anything it isn’t. It’s just a motorcycle, one that works well.
Several years ago, on one of my regular trips back to the Appalachian foothill borderlands of West Virginia and Ohio where I was born and mostly raised, I stopped at a local motorcycle dealership for something or other. As I was leaving, a local walked in and in his thickest hill accent (my first language) said, “You sure got a weird-lookin’ motorcycle.”
I just laughed and rode off on my Speed Triple. No offense intended, none taken.
Now, I think I need to go find that guy. I really want to know what he thinks of an FZ-10.
Nighthawk 750, ZRX, Suzuki GS line… I miss those bikes. And they’re expensive now. I knew it would happen, but sort of hoped it wouldn’t.