Road test of KawasakiW 800 Cafe Style 2013 The pleasure of time

"Hey!!! A motorcycle from the '60s. But, it looks new". That's the phrase I've heard most this week. The Vintage trend is gaining momentum, as evidenced by the spotlight on the Honda CB 1100, Guzzi V7, 900 Thruxton, 961 Commando and our muse from another time: the W 800 in its Edition Speciale Cafe Style outfit.

with this combination of elements, we have in our hands a motorcycle that will not be common to come across. And so much the better. Park your streetfighter in the town's main square and it'll go completely unnoticed. Drop this lady off in the same place and she'll be the only one to be noticed. Allow me to take you into another dimension of motorcycling, far removed from screaming engines, flush elbows and burnt rubber. Welcome to the world of flavors so many have forgotten.

this W 800 Special Edition Cafe Style is a bike you want to ride before you start. The overall line, the small fork head, the sparkling chrome accents in the distance... It takes you back in time several decades. For Kawa, this is a rebirth of the W1, Akashi's iconic model from the late 60s. However, the first onlooker who accosted me didn't have this kind of retinal persistence:
-"Oh! Beautifull! It's a Triumph Bonnie?"
Lost. Which just goes to show the extent to which the English brand has left its mark on the history of motorcycles. And Japanese as it is, the W 800 is easily confused with the famous Bonneville.
The English are moving away; I'm getting closer to the Japanese. In this category of machines, you're not looking for horsepower, performance or efficiency. It's all about beauty, patina and detail. It's not about the whole, it's about the whole. Once you've passed your hand over its bountiful, egotistical buttocks, the eye naturally looks for the little extras.
That's where the W comes into its own: the spoked rims, the big chrome ogive indicators, the fork gaiters, the metal mudguards, the big (plastic) badge on the fuel tank, the bevel gearing - it's not much, but it makes all the difference.
The quality is there, the attention to detail a little less so. On a bike like this, we're a little worried about certain elements. Wires that dangle to attach to the horn... not so good. The visible injector connectors are also a pity; the manufacturer could have hidden them behind fake carburetors.

our special edition adventure companion raises the bar with a black-painted engine whose cylinder head fins have been cut away. The material appears bare; the visual effect is as subtle as it is stunning. Symbolic graphics featuring a pair of lions come as standard. As an option, a pair of conical pots with a matt black coating add a sporty touch, reminiscent of the days when names like Dell'Orto and Conti were the benchmark. The range is thus complete and seduction is at its best. The W 800 can do no better, and is waiting for you.

don't look to this article for a polished analysis of the riding position. You'll feel right at home straight away, and this feeling of obviousness means you won't be looking for the little thing that could spoil the picture. Easy to ride, with a straight back and naturally positioned legs, you feel like you're on a bicycle. You sit on the W 800, but you're not one with it - it's a dance, not an embrace.

with its 773 cm3, the twin makes a mockery of its age, from its bevel gearing to the optional W 800 Cup exhausts. It smells like the mechanics of yesteryear, so retro that time seems to want to bypass it. You can't help but contemplate it before getting on the handlebars. In fact, the right-hand side is the most delightful part to look at.
The effect continues on the dashboard console. Gone are the digital tablets, bar graphs and telemetric indicators. In their place are two beautiful dials encircled in chrome, with mirific calligraphy. A small digital display has been added to the tachometer, with good intentions. It displays the time, a partial trip or the odometer. It's frugal, limited to the essentials.
Once in the saddle, low and padded, you put the key (without electronic anti-theft device) in the ignition, you feel like kicking it, and... Bzjjjiiittttt. The magic takes a hit when the injection pump wakes up. A little too much, in fact. This whistling noise remains present throughout the ride, transparent when you're on the move but back in your ears at every stop. Almost annoying.
something's wrong! Something's gone wrong since I left. The bike? The road? The weather? No, the helmet. I put down the full-face and started on the Jet. And then everything becomes clear. The tank opens up before my very eyes, and the twin's song takes on its full meaning, with an added touch of freedom. On the downside, the hiss of the injection system, mentioned a short while ago, takes on a different dimension. It's with this type of helmet that annoyance takes on its full meaning, not so much with a full-face.Ploum-ploum-ploum. Once the twin-cylinder is awakened, the smile returns to the lips. With this pair of pots, the muted, pulsating sound promises a good melody to accompany the ride. However, it's not enough to give this engine more depth. Its inertia is enormous. One throttle in the vacuum gives you the measure of an amorphous blood pressure. Engine revs drop so slowly that the crankshaft feels like it's turning in molten lead. Quite linear, it lacks character, especially given the vintage spirit and sound of the mill. On the other hand, it's docile, easy to handle and very smooth. Even in fifth and final gear at 1,500 rpm, there's no hiccup. Without really punching up acceleration, the engine is willing and responds as valiantly as it can.
This rather placid temperament is a good thing when the crew wander between vineyards and groves, waving at cherry trees and overtaking a pair of cyclists taking up the full width of the road. Power is modest. But when you start to tease the twin, it's the melody that makes you want to play. Let's drop down to the intermediate gears and screw on the throttle. And then things change. Without ever being overwhelmed by watts, the pots distribute rock and good. it growls, it grumbles, it hums; it spits out brouhaaarrpppp, it farts on deceleration at around 2,000 rpm. A real drone, and a big one at that, seems to cross the landscape, scraping a few bits of road as it goes. As a result, the engine is teased not for its power but for the vocals it belches out.

the leitmotif of the W 800, whether standard, Edition Speciale or Cafe Style, is to offer sensations from another time. emotion, power, pace, it's all there. And it's even truer for braking. What a thrill! Those accustomed to finger-licking the disc can dig out the lumberjack's manual. The single disc and two-piston caliper offer little response when the lever is gripped. You really have to squeeze hard to get any braking action, which lacks consistency in both form and substance. You soon get used to taking a bit of leeway, but it's not the ideal tool for emergency braking. The Classic rear drum brake offers a better feel and more conviction. For decent results, it's almost imperative to combine the two. So much so, in fact, that this chapter brings us back to the essentials: a flowing ride, so as not to ruffle the chassis, the brakes or the spirit of the W.

the road undulates through the vineyards, and the Kawa follows it in a relaxed manner. Look, they've repainted their gate here... It's poetic, this little stream between the dandelions... 4, 5, 6: there's one more goat at Mr Seguin's... It's not easy to appreciate all this on bikes packed with character, power and the will to fight. Sometimes, on the edge of a crossroads, the nose is distracted by a breeze or the opiate scent of engine heat (I didn't say it smelled hot, mind you). Stopped at a red light and set to idle, the mirrors vibrate to the rhythm of the twin's bowls. the mirrors samba, then flicker as you ride. Retro vision is good, but the autofocus can't focus. The driver can see the road and the cars, without being able to distinguish the make of the following vehicles.

Direction Apremont and the heights for a few shots. The perfect opportunity to bring along a passenger, the photographer, and let him enjoy the rear hump of the single-seater saddle. And there's no doubt about it, he enjoyed it, to say the least.
The seat is thick, much softer than it suggests. The shape, on the other hand, only serves the style. The passenger is wobbly on it, always rocking under acceleration or braking. Perched on the hump, my guest is higher up than on the standard W 800. As a result, the handles are too low, and it's impossible to find a comfortable position. This seat will only be a makeshift solution. In any case, with two people on the W 800 Café, the charm of the ride is less appreciated. it rubs at the slightest bend, the slightest bump, and the braking doesn't even try to be effective. But I've been telling you all along that this Cafe Style is a bachelor's bike.

the W 800 isn't much of a touring bike, but you can enjoy it every time you take it here and there. A ride to work, a ride back through the city center, an evening lost in the countryside with friends having a barbecue - the Special Edition does it all nicely with Style. The damping is just as supple, with just the right amount of damping to take the anxiety out of every bump in the road. Are you going off-road? No big deal. Turning around is a breeze, because the machine is easy to handle and steers very well.

but looking good doesn't mean sacrificing practicality. There's an adjuster for each lever, a helmet clip with lock, angled valves on the rims, lashing hooks to secure bungee cords, and a central stand that's always handy for maintenance operations. Accustomed to crutching my old VFR 750, I developed a similar effort to lift it on the "middle footrest", as my photographer calls it. Pay particular attention to the fuel filler cap. Its old-fashioned shape suggests a screw-in model, very classy, but you always wonder where you're going to put it when you fill up. By ingenuity, it's hinged. When looks and function cohabit, it's happiness. Looking for protection? Does the fairing end protect as much as it looks? A little, but not much more. It spares the belly and a bit of the torso.

is this vintage Kawa top of the line? It's not without its faults (no one is). These come to the fore when the rider takes control. But I'd like to warn you before I start the next paragraph: the way it behaves in the lines you're about to read is not its personality. An enthusiast won't buy it for that, won't ride it like that, it's not made or sold for what follows!!!

A W is not a Z, nor a ZX-R. So there's no point in trying to make it look sporty. But since we're curious by nature and a bit stubborn, we tickled it a bit to find out if the machine would bend to the exercise. It obeyed, pulling its punches all the way.
First of all, the W 800 likes to go up to 130 kph. After that, she'll let you know that it's no picnic for her or for you. It weaves its way from 140, incites you to fight at 160, seems to be in turmoil beyond that, and yet continues to accompany you. The W 800 did a blistering 170 km/h, head and arms tucked in. A speed that no one will be tempted to discover on this bike, and indeed, the desire isn't there.
The small road that I won't point out, but that everyone knows near where I live, allows me to wander a bit for 5 km. Which is already too much for her. At a forced pace, the only thing that helps is the narrowness of the tires, which makes for good agility. But then things start to go wrong. When you enter the bend hard, it moves, it buckles, it hesitates. We knew it wasn't made for this, but we thought we'd give it a try. The funny thing is the impression of speed: with the W 800, you feel like you're going faster than you actually are. Let's set the record straight once again: nobody will buy a W 800 to ride like that. There are ZX-6s and 10Rs for that kind of exercise.
After all, the machine's charm is distilled through relaxed riding. At this pace, it takes you along without a false note and accompanies you without moving, without frightening, without trapping. The footrest embraces the road without needing to exaggerate the ride. A sign that you're driving too hard? Not necessarily.

one rainy evening, I confess, I forced myself to open the garage to test lady Kawa on a night out... On the W 800, there are no LED headlights, laser diodes or infrared sensors with rotating telemetry. A vintage bike can only be conceived with a good big porthole, as all motorcycles were once equipped with. I wasn't too keen on the idea of testing the lighting on this cool night. But enjoying the night alone with this charming lady could be full of surprises. A short detour via Le Moutaret quickly convinced me of the virtues of the lighting: it's enough, although I would have appreciated a wider, more powerful beam at the front of the road. As soon as the street lighting disappears, you instinctively switch to full headlight. On the road lined with fir trees and winding along the banks of the Bramefarine, the codes are not really compatible with a playful rhythm. It's best to just wind on. Further on and later, the full moon winks at us, its brilliance attracting the eye more than the bike's beam.

riding a W 800 SE Cafe Style means treating yourself to a little moment of happiness on every outing. It means forgetting about radar, taking the time to feel the sun on your cheeks and the gaze of many an enthusiast. If you've been put off by its limited touring skills, you'll have to move on. This is not the uncomfortable ball of nerves with teeth ready to eat up the asphalt. This Classic wants to caress it, with a very appreciable level of comfort (except for the friend behind). Far from a basic roadster, it's a toy, a beautiful toy that appeals to the heart more than to the mind. And you know what, it's the first time the sun has winked at me in the blinker.

M.B - Photos Greg and De Malfin