Kawasaki Z 650 Custom

'IF IT DOESN'T go, chrome it' has been a sturdy pillar of both car and bike design philosophy for years. Recently the principle of 'If It Doesn't Sell, Limit It' seems to have taken over in biking circles at least; witness the Honda Cold Wing Executive, the Z1000 LTD, even the Jubilee Bonny. Models nearing the end of their sales life are given a boost by a special paint job, odds and sods like different wheels and tanks and a hand-on-heart promise from the manufacturers that only a limited number will be produced. That number usually nearly always coincides with the number of bikes lying around the factory at the end of a production run, or that are sitting around in importers' warehouses and can be easily converted (did anybody mention the Phil Read Replica? no, surely not).

Why do people buy them? Any thoughts that manage to penetrate most bikers' 100 proof cranial fluid go something like this: 'It's a bit special' (it is), 'it's exclusive' (it isn't), 'it'll increase in value' (it won't). Or at least it might increase in value but I wouldn't exchange my Andy Warhol original for a Lead Wing Executive to test the hypothesis. All those dealers seen wrapping Jubilee Bon-nevilles in greased muslin and storing them in brass-cornered mahogany boxes must know something I don't. Still, essentially it's marketing.

I therefore approached the Z650C with extreme caution even though Kawasaki haven't tried to make out that each individual Z650C is lovingly hand-crafted and numbered. But the rest of the formula is there — smart alloy wheels, special paint job (with real pinstripes painted on by a guy in a brown coat with horn-rimmed spectacles), locking filler cap and an extra disc on back and front. However good looking this package is it didn't seem to me to be enough to transform the fortunes of a bike that, by the mere expedient of being 100cc too small, has failed to sell in large enough numbers to pay for the expensive carpet it stands on in yer average Kawasaki showroom.

It really does look good though, particulary parked under a sodium street lamp outside your favourite real ale pub. It's sort of subdued — but shiny. The engine cases are highly polished, Jhe wheels mainly matt black and menacing, the tank/seat unit pearlescent. I'm told it looks equally good in daylight, but I do my best not to look at bright things during the day as there's a severe danger that I might wake up.

There are two ways that the Custom might stimulate sales of both itself and the standard Z650 on looks alone. It may well drag people in from the streets to have a test ride, just to pass the time while the local Suzuki dealer's GS750/1000 waiting list slowly reduces. These people will discover, if their nervous system is not permanently disconnected, that the Z650 is one hell of a bike, Custom or standard.

It won't beat the 750s in the battle of the brochures or road test figures, but out there on the road, it feels good and much better than a lot of the big bikes. It feels good when you slam into a sharp bend and wind it on just after the apex, when you brake hard and yank the bars to get round some car-borne oaf, when you scream it up a slip road and have to back off because you're going faster in 100 yards than guys who've been building up speed since Birmingham. It's got that tight, zippy feeling that makes you want to screw it even on a Monday morning through the thick sludge of traffic on the way to work. So quite a few people may swallow their pride, decide that riding a mere 650, especially a good looking one, is not too demeaning to their manhood and proceed to scare hell out of the local megabike owners.

The other market that Kawasaki may well get a slice of with the custom is the elusive executive motorcyclist. That's a horrible classification; what it really means is the guy with a car who would like a bike for kicks and/or posing purposes, not the true 'I wouldn't touch it with sterilised gloves on unless it's got two wheels, I love the rain, isn't crashing fun? purist, although the latter often turns into the former!

I discovered the undoubted attraction of the Z650C for this type of guy through what is laughingly called my job (which is not professional Ace Road Testing as must be obvious). It actually involves selling a commodity which is very expensive, and which no-one can see the true value or purpose of. Anyway, it involves me in a lot of travelling around plush central London offices which is usually done either in the company car, venting my spleen at the impenetrable wall of traffic surrounding me, or in a taxi venting highly imflammable alcoholic fumes from every orifice. Both are time consuming and expensive.

One morning however, I abused th Cortina once too often and just after starting up the water pump exploded, shrapnel shredding the radiator. The resulting cloud of steam was spectacular, but not a lot of help in getting me to a very important meeting in half an hour across the other side of London  which was then totally paralysed by traffic. Enter Z650C, lurking in the garage. I expect a certain traffic warden is still wondering what the hell the loon dressed in a filthy, fly-bespattered Bell Star, immaculate Parisian suit and soft Italian slip-on shoes was doing smoking the back tyre across her toes as she twitched her thumb in preparation to waving the traffic on. Well, I got there, and on time dumping the bike on the pavement. Imagine my surprise when, instead of being directed to the tradesmen's entrance because of the crash hat, the guy I had come to see came rushing through reception saying, 'Saw you arrive old chap, splendid idea, thinking about a bike meself, mind if I have a sit? Looks well, no oil underneath like my BSA used to have years' ago, how much are they?' Sold, one Z650C. It happened time and time again as I trolled about town on the Custom. It promoted interest from the most unexpected quarters. Perhaps it was nostalgia for the traditional size, perhaps it was the looks, I dunno but it sure got noticed.

The most impressive thing about the tartingup process the Z650 has undergone is that, with one notable exception, all the structural changes make it a better bike to ride faster. The front end has had considerable attention, with another disc and different calipers which are mounted behind the fork legs together with the superb-looking fake Morris Mag cast wheels. The extra disc was a must as the original was very close to being underbraked. The calipers have also been improved and, although single piston, they are, I,believe, Girling designs made under licence in Japan. Their main advantage is that the torque reaction on the pads is fed straight through to the fork legs or torque arm rather than through the caliper which can then do its job of squeezing the disc without binding on its pivot pins. They also stop you rapidly and without drama, at least in the dry. The rear end is an entirely different matter, and I reckon that the rear disc is the curse of modern motorcycles. The marketing men who specify them for new models ought to be forced to walk blindfold across greasy wet roads in front of hordes of bikes so equipped. If any of them survived they would soon change their minds, and their trousers. A rear disc can only be of use to somebody who commutes across the Moroccan High Atlas mountains every day where its superior heat dissipating properties might help and it doesn't rain. I didn't fall off the Custom because of the rear disc, but came very close to it. It locked up the back wheel at the drop of a toe nail in the wet; not too pleasant.

The rear shocks work tolerably well, but now the front fork has been slightly redesigned and improved they do feel slightly shaky in comparison. The handling generally is extremely good but not in the 'solid as a rock, you can't ride me anywhere near my limits' class, much more the 'I might move around a bit 'cos I'm enjoying the ride, but I'll end up where you want me to go' sort of deal. There's loads of ground clearance, the foot-rest touches on the right and slightly more seriously the centre stand graunches on the left, but only close to the limits of sanity. However, it was while approaching these limits that the Custom did give me a scare.

The scene is no doubt familiar. Car in front doing 85, you want to do 90, you wait for a gap, blast past at around 100, bright boy in the car puts his toe down as you flash past The Bends For % Mile Reduce Speed NOW signs. The particular bends in question were fairly wide radius and nothing dramatic except for an odd camber and disturbingly dented Armco on both sides. A nice vigorous wobbler ensued, not terminal but close enough to remind me that I was riding a motorcycle, not a magic carpet, which the Custom often felt like. This behaviour was out of character, so when I stopped for petrol a quick check showed that the rear tyre had been almost totally rubbished by speed testing earlier that day and now looked like a sidecar cover. Riding on the corner of a square tyre is enough to start any bike off, and I expect the extra weight of disc and wheel on the front made the wobble feel worse than it was. With reasonable tyres there should be no problem.

The frame seemed a workmanlike item tacked together from the requisite number of tubes, and with the welcome addition of a swinging arm supported on a double row needle roller bearings complete with grease nipple to jnject grease onto same. A change from the laughable plastic bushes found on some other big Jap bikes.

The engine is almost identical to the standard Z650 except for heavier flywheels and highly polished cases. And one hell of a unit it is too. Fairly conventional, with chain driven double overhead cam, Hy-Vo chain primary drive and wet sump lubrication, it produces a very unconventional amount of usable power. With this sort of top end performance — not far off 117 mph — available one would expect it to be a red-line screamer needing Light Pedal Assistance anywhere. Not so, because power comes in low down and just keeps coming in that lovely endless gush Z1000 owners keep on about. It's very easy to throw caution to the winds and just keep it wound on well past the 9,000rpm blood line which it will exceed even in top. Funnily enough, despite extra flywheel weight, the engine does get fairly rough, producing a sort of throbbing vibration, from about 4,500rpm to about 7,500 when it smoothed out. Is it coincidence that four and a half grand is exactly 55mph in top, the American blanket speed limit up to which the ride is oily-smooth? Still, most British riders will operate in the 7,500rpm-plus smooth range, much to the disgust of the local constabulary.

Hand, foot and bum contact points are all pretty much in the right places, the bars being commendably low and narrow, though straights would suit the character of the bike even better. Instruments are the usual Nippon Denso which look as if they're telling the truth even if they don't, switches are operable with an over-mitted hand which must be good, and the array of idiot lights between the dials shine with great authority. One novelty in the controls is the hazard flasher switch which operates all four flashers at once, believed by many to hide a magic anti-parking warden ray. They actually proved very useful while exiting from a recent David Bowie concert in London as the road was temporarily closed for the milling crowds to disgorge from Earls Court which they did, blocking the road. Flashing all four indicators obviously gave the bike a quasi official appearance causing people to leap out of the way, which was all very satisfying.

Ironically, the only place the Custom failed to cut it was among the custom crowd, probably the very market Big K was aiming at. For our photo session we went along to the Saturday nite cruise from Battersea Park to the King's Road with the wide wheel and diffraction tape set. You get zilch reaction down there if you're not covered from head to foot with Flip-Flop or Eeriedess or sport an unmuf-fled four-into-one. You're no-one; subtlety or real performance mean nothing in the King's Road. In fact we thought the Custom had become invisible at one point. There we were taking pics parked on the pavement when a cretin on a grotesque water-pumper Suzuki drove up the kerb, along the pavement and straight into the bike. No, the Z650C doesn't need to impress people like that. It does its business in the streets of the City or on the twisty lanes of the home counties. It's a class machine.

STOP PRESS: Another variation of the Z650 has been announced Stateside, the KX650SR. It has a 5.10 x 16in rear wheel, really high wide bars, a weird Siamese exhaust system, semi King 'n' Queen seat and chromed instrument nacelles. Thank Cod it didn't happen here . . .

Source  bike 1978