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| Review |
I wasn't after a new bike, although I'd got a vague idea an R1 would probably be next. Not new - too expensive - I'd aim for about five years old and trailing well behind the pointy end of depreciation. Ride for a year and part-ex without losing too much on the deal, following the well-established pattern that has been my biking history. It works for me: I'm not fussed about latest and shiniest and there are fantastic bargains to be had in the low-mileage, never-seen-rain, no-longer-quite-fashionable big sportsbike market.
If my GSXR1000K1 hadn't developed a persistent fault with the exhaust servo, that probably wouldn't have changed. As it was, I found myself spending a lot of time at my local dealers while my bike sat on the bench. Nothing much in the showroom that appealed, so I found myself hovering around looking at bikes I wouldn't normally pay attention to.
The all but brand-new GSXR600K7 squatting purposefully in iconic and angular black was one such. Nice lines, exquisite engineering, reasonable price...but only a 600. The last middleweight I owned was a steel-framed CBR600FP, back when 600s were the poor relations to manufacturers big-bore flagships, just a class to go through on the road to proper hypersportsbikes.
It was partly curiosity, partly something to do while waiting and partly the cheerfully enthusiastic hype from the sales department that had me taking a test ride. November in the rain isn't necessarily the best time to assess a bike's outright capabilities, true, but it'll tell you a lot about it's real-world usability. And the little Gixxer had plenty of that. I wouldn't say I was absolutely smitten, but I was thoroughly and rather surprisingly impressed.
What it did do was make me think. After years of litre bikes, it's easy to get used to the endless speed and power: complacent with it, almost. Any gear, any time, roll on and go, undisputed king of the road. The bike won't break sweat, even with somewhere way past go-directly-to-jail numbers on the speedo. And, be honest, that isn't even where it spends it's life, is it? Commuting, town, in traffic, somewhere around (ahem) the national speed limit is what it does most of and that, all of that, has simply become too easy - so far within the bike's ability it almost rides itself. Which may be an exercise in brilliant design, refinement and evolution but isn't necessarily that much fun...
So, there was a decision. Something that is still fast but can be abused, bent out of shape and worked hard for a living without the need to actually own a racetrack. Plus, as my only transport all year round, something that offers a degree of practicality and reliability. Time to empty the piggybank.
And how does the six measure up?
Pretty well, actually. As with all my bikes, the practicality aspect is covered by fitting a Renntec sports rack (good enough for carrying a week's shopping, with strategic use of bungies), Scottoiler (possibly the most useful device of all time), crash bungs (just in case) and Datatag (good for insurance and piece of mind).
The standard decals are horrible and cheap, so I spent an afternoon steaming them off. Then, in a fit of childish exuberance inspired by the pointy matt-black stealth-bomber looks, I designed and ordered up a set of custom military-style vinyls online. More personalised than a number plate and at least I'll recognise it in the bike park at Brands amongst the thousands of others...
Handling-wise, it's a sublimely capable roadbike, unruffled and stable even in the poor conditions through the heart of winter. Easily as good as any bad-weather bike I've ever ridden, with an inordinate amount of grip and feeling through my preferred Bridgestones. The slightest hint of a warmish day is enough to shave all but the finest of chicken-strips away. Ground clearance is good, but I can still get my sparky titanium toe-sliders on the deck whenever the urge to be exuberant is upon me. The stock steering damper doesn't achieve much, but then, the bike is so poised it simply doesn't have to. I haven't found any need to fiddle with the suspension, either: seems fine on factory settings.
There's no real lack of power or torque in the mill, either. It is a noticeable step down from the thou, and needs the right input from throttle and super-slick gearbox to get properly on song. I'd guess the outright performance is somehere around what I used to get from my EXUP1000 or 96 'blade: a little down on their absolute power, but compensated for by being lighter and more aerodynamic. It makes a fantastic noise, too, even on a stock pipe - somewhere between a snarl and a howl that seems far too loud to comply with legal decibel limits!
For a physically small bike, the riding position is quite roomy - even though tucking in behind the bubble means resting my forearms on my knees, it isn't an uncomfortable posture. Weather protection is fair, if not brilliant: the fairing's just too narrow to provide complete shelter.
Aesthetics are obviously a personal thing: I think it looks great (apart from the dog-ugly front indicators, which will need replacing with something more discreet) and don't particularly care whether people agree or not! Finish overall is pretty good, with just the slightest hints of corrosion on some of the untreated aluminium (like the steering damper body). A more considerate owner probably wouldn't see that, but I can rarely be bothered to clean bikes: twice a year seems about right. Spray everything with WD40 in the Autumn, ride through winter and don't clean it until the spring. Pretty much every bike I've owned has come through with no more than a few fluffy bits, sorted with a couple of hours elbow-grease.
In terms of engineering, it's easy to tell that supersports is a popular racing class nowadays: the quality of parts easily rivals those on the litre class. Clutch, gearbox, motor, levers, brakes, suspension - all work with a smooth, quiet efficiency. Instruments are clear: the usual analogue tacho/digital speedo with gear indicator and a choice of trip counters, odometer or clock. It's a bit fiddly to swap between those last while on the move, but not outrageously so.
There are a couple of bad points to mention. Tank range verges on dismal, with 95 miles to reserve on an average mix of commuting and pleasure. It gets better at constant motorway speeds, but not that much better! The fuel injection is, by and large, smooth and linear. However, it does glitch sometimes when held at constant throttle, with the revs dropping away of their own accord. It can be annoying, as it tends to do it at bang on 30mph in town. That means riding in a lower gear and revving higher to avoid the dead spot, which no doubt contributes to the poor fuel consumption.
Most importantly, though, it's more consistently involving to ride than the last few litre bikes I've owned. In many respects it is quite similar in philosophy, but shaving 40 or so horsepower off the engine makes that so much more accessible. It requires more effort from the rider in the fair-to-fast road-riding zone where I spend my time and delivers correspondingly more reward for getting it right. That said, it wouldn't be a bad bike for an inexperienced rider, either: it isn't hard or threatening to get along with and still has plenty to offer as confidence and ability improve. In many ways, that sums it up - it's built around exactly what the rider wants to get out of it. For me, that's being no slower getting from A to B and getting a lot more enjoyment along the way.
So, not an outright love affair to begin with, but it's certainly blossoming now. |
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| endemoniada_88 in Littlehampton, West Sussex on 03/05/2008 |
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