Road test of KawasakiW 800 2011 Charmer of the years

the important thing is to enjoy yourself". This notion takes on values as different as they are extravagant, depending on the individual who utters the phrase. It can be defined by an unreasonable top speed, a crazy angle, belonging to a tribe, or a taste for adventure between the teeth. And for some, it's a philosophy of life. This is the niche that the W 800 has chosen to occupy.

you know it well. Well, almost: it's the legitimate (and almost cloned) daughter of the W 650, which has been on our roads for almost a decade. And if you missed (which I doubt ;-) the excellent contact summary written by... me, let me remind you of the main points. The Kawasaki W 800 is a motorcycle in the purest vintage style, reminiscent of the W1 of the 60s, and a direct competitor to the Triumph Bonneville. The 650 version from 1999-2006 failed to meet the Euro3 environmental standards, and so this proud-looking lady had to be withdrawn from dealerships. Just enough time to sigh, and it's back with a cleaner, bigger, chubbier engine.

the technical base is very similar to that of the 650. So much so, in fact, that we're going to dwell on THE change to this machine: the engine. Its ribs have been beefed up thanks to a larger bore. This is all to the benefit of torque, since power isn't exceptional - a fact that isn't really important on this type of machine. Injection, an indispensable feature, reminds us of its presence through both the good and the not-so-good. Which is? Come closer, bend your knee and let your gaze wander around the cooling fins. So, isn't this parallel twin a pretty face?! It's nostalgia at its best, a pleasure to look at, and any biker who rode in the 60s will approach this W with curiosity. As for the finish, you can tell that the bike wasn't built in a hurry. On the downside, there are a few bits of electrical wire running around the injection system - perhaps a little embellishment to hide this (like fake carburettors, to take the vintage spirit to the extreme) wouldn't have been superfluous.
Drum brakes, sausage pots, flat saddle with flanges, fork protection gussets, some very nice details like mudguards, oil filter cover and chrome-plated metal chain guard, bevel gearing, and the promise of bucolic rides.... Come on, go, I've got to try this at all costs.

key, ignition. The needles wake up with a hangover. The time needed for their check-up seems to last as long as a Microsoft hourglass. No doubt an initial wink of the "relax, we'll drive" variety. Even the controls seem to be from another time. The engine starts up with a muffled ploum-ploum that's almost too discreet. We let it warm up gently, then take off. And the feeling of relaxation is immediate. Easy and maneuverable as we like it, we don't dare ask it to be any easier as it already is. The W 800 immediately puts its rider at ease, like a young girl who wants to accompany you everywhere during your stay. A flick of the wrist puts it on the road, and it weaves in and out so smoothly that you don't even feel its weight. The natural riding position continues to put you at ease, while the twin vibrates gently, reminding you without disturbing you that it lives just below.

the road goes by itself. The temptation is simply to stall at 3000rpm, forget about the speedometer and forget about 90km/h, put time in your pocket and forget about chasing it. But here's the thing: up ahead, Brigitte is waiting for us, and behind her, a VN 1700 Bagger is pushing ahead. Now might be a good time to get the W 800 out of its shell and into a field for which it wasn't designed: the arsouille. This will allow us to grill this freshly discovered meat.
Gazzzz! We turn the handle more sincerely, fork off onto a winding road and... improvise. I'd like to point out that the ride just turned into a little rally between friends.
A little hollow below 3,000 rpm, the 773 cm3 isn't a monster of power. Its fifty-odd horsepower and average liveliness when revving up are nothing to write home about. But that doesn't mean it's bored; it takes the right measure of its effort, so as to be ready when it approaches the red zone. Around 6,500 rpm, a slightly raging growl is heard, accompanying the connecting rods in a final assault to the breaker 1,000 rpm further on. The thrust isn't exceptional, but it's deliberate and almost charismatic, like a well-bred English bourgeois in an Irish bar. On the way down the hill, deceleration is accompanied by a pleasant hum. Yet this engine wants to tell us more, to express itself more. It's clear that its voice is castrated, that its character is distilled more than it expresses itself, that Madame wants it to be presentable for social occasions, while the Ace Café is giving it a hard time. Before we think about freeing the garden gnomes, how about freeing the pots?

short stop to refuel. No one had a flowmeter to hand... which wouldn't have been much use anyway, as the W wasn't very thirsty. Her fuel consumption must be barely 5 liters. A tap of the throttle at standstill gives a different gauge of the engine's inertia: I throttle up, the needle goes to the zenith, then it takes a good 5 seconds for the engine speed to return to idle. The needle seems to flow in honey, so placid is its descent.
Let's take this opportunity to review the practical aspects. Equipped with two kickstands, the W requires a slight effort, but nothing superhuman, to get on its power plant. Under the seat, there's plenty of room for a tool kit, papers and chewing gum, but don't expect to find much more. At the end of the rear frame, it's possible to fit a U... small model. The rear rim is fitted with an angled valve, handy for engaging the inflator. Ah, if all wheels were fitted with this appendage, we wouldn't have to worry so much about tire pressure.

we're off again, briefly in pairs. The passenger is also well seated, with no worries, but unless you have oversized arms, the passenger grips are too low to be used properly: either you touch them with your fingertips, or you arch your back to hold on. It's best to be of the opposite sex to the rider and hold on tight. Big feet may stumble on the side amortos.
The time for playful rhythm has returned, the passenger has regained his mount, and the troop ventures into the Maures massif. Set off at a good pace, it's like a small squadron of bees pursued by that big VN 1700 drone, frolicking in the land of cicadas. The W 800s twirl with glee, regardless of the road surface. The Kawa is at ease on roads good and not so good. The more you ride, the more you discover a comfortable, good-humored motorcycle that's very healthy to ride and not at all tricky to ride (although be careful on wet roads). At the bend in the road, it can venture lightly onto a path if you find a spot for a picnic.
A scrape of the footpeg to the left, a roll to the right... although it's mainly at home in touring mode, bubbling along at between 3 and 5,000 rpm, it'll follow you with a smile when the symphony is in full swing. Braking, with a disc at the front and a drum at the rear, proves satisfactory, in line with what you'd expect from a vintage bike. The rear element is more than just an extra. Pleasantly surprised by its feel and responsiveness, we use it at will, as it's quite pleasant overall. The gearbox is almost oblivious in its use, signalling its presence with a little click when upshifting and a slight clack when downshifting - if you don't pay attention, all you'll hear is a dale.

not only does the W 800 ride well and pleasantly, it's also comfortable. The more you ride, the more you like it. Very supple, the mill is willing to drop below 1500 rpm in 5th gear. The top speed is rated at 180 rpm, but frankly, who cares? Pleasure comes first, light years away from sporting and timekeeping considerations. Oh, sure, it gets a bit disjointed on the big bumps taken on the attack (but I told you it's not made for that!), it wobbles a little after 140 km/h because of the wind pressing on your arms (drop a hand, it'll pass), and it carries off virtually nothing apart from a couple of bikers. But it doesn't care, because it exudes what's essential: a charm that begins with a wink, continues when you're riding, and defends itself when you're downshifting. A little more voice, passenger handgrips at the right height, and it'll be perfect.

M.B - Photos Eric Célis