For Years, the mid-size motorcycle (400 c.c. to 600 c.c.) was the neglected child of the American market place. Not large enough to be called super-cycles, too large to be sold to most beginners, the bikes went through a variety of styling changes. For the past few years, it seems that the strategy has been to try to pass the bikes off as mini-choppers. They came with low-rider seats, ape-hanger handle bars and chrome everything. The bikes were impressive, as long as they were on their kick-stands. When it came to handling, all of those "big bike" touches added up to a less than coherent whole. The riding position was ridiculous. It felt as though you were sliding into a corner on your ass, spikes high. But the manufacturers probably figured that the guys who were buying their bikes (concluded on page 175) Middle-Size Sexy (continued from page 128) did so for the looks and not the handling. What the hell. The bikes sold.
With the gas crunch, everything changed. Riders began to view their motorcycles as a necessary form of transportation. Bikes are fuel efficient. The more miles riders logged, the more they realized that the bikes weren't behaving. There had to be something better.
In Europe, mid-size bikes are an end in and of themselves. They are not steppingstones to something larger. The typical European rider realizes that, like a Ducati 500 or a BMW 450, a mid-size bike makes a few trade-offs; it has half the displacement, three quarters of the weight and a sliver of the horsepower of a so-called superbike, yet, at 60 mph on a winding road, the lithe little bugger can eat a bigger bike alive, literally riding circles around the behemoth. For two thirds the price, you get a bike that delivers 80-90 percent of the performance of the superbike.
Japan responded, at least in part. You can still buy one of the custom specials, but it would be better if you checked out Japan's latest offerings. The new generation of mid-size cycles are high-performance bikes, styled in the tradition of café racers in Europe. The riding position is intelligent; the slight forward lean puts you right in the center of action, the sweet spot. You crouch into the curves, your senses open to the feedback the bike gives you about the road. A friend of mine once said that your riding experience is essentially your experience of the machine. Going 60 miles an hour on a chopper is not the same as going 60 mph on a KZ 550GP. A pound of pig iron is different from a pound of cast aluminum. The mid-size cycles are light, fast, effortless, responsive. When you throw a big bike into a corner, you have to deal with the sheer mass of the beast--the 500 or so pounds of steel longing to wander off on a tangent. You have to choose your line carefully, commit the bike and hope that nothing unexpected happens between you and the other side of the curve. It's not unlike maneuvering a battleship, or a battle star. In contrast, the mid-size bikes seem almost weightless. A ride becomes an exercise in speed, line, intention. The bikes do exactly what you tell them to--without complaint or ideas of their own. You feel alive. You scamper down canyon roads or tap-dance through city streets. What you lose in momentum, you make up for in magic. If you are content to exercise your skills, your powers of concentration and involvement at speeds this side of 100 mph, these bikes will suffice. Indeed, they will delight.
