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It must be said that we're not really into cruiser bikes here at BikeNet. We do a lot of miles, whether touring, racing, testing, commuting or just scratching around - but somehow we don't have time to use "custom" bikes at what they do best - posing. It would seem that UK bikers aren't like their German or US counterparts in this, however - the German market in particular is massive as far as sales of "custom" bikes is concerned, hence the large numbers of such bikes in Yamaha's range, for instance. Kawasaki were among the first with the cruiser styling, with bikes like the 550 and 750 LTD series - but the big V-twin engines from Harley Davidson still attracted the "true" cruiser enthusiast. The Japanese factories have responded with ever bigger engines and more chrome in an attempt to capture sales from H-D (witness the Yamaha Royal Star and Honda's Valkyrie) and the VN1500 is Kawasaki's H-D clone; and a pretty damn good one at that. There's no denying that the Classic is a well-built motorcycle with all the cruiser features present and correct - but in the UK at least, it has an attitude problem, as we found out... The Kawasaki VN1500 Classic is the largest capacity bike we've tested so far; but capacity isn't really what the VN is all about. With a top speed of probably just over a ton (see below for the reason for the "probably"), performance isn't the issue either; but one look at the masses of chrome, wide-swept bars, fat grips, big "fenders" (mudguards to the Brits) and footboards, it's style that's the key. And size, of course. When you walk up to the VN for the first time, it's the sheer length of the bike that hits you, and then the width - the Classic must possess the Widest Fuel Tank Known to Man. This elephantine slab spreads into the distance as you sit in the driving seat, and contains the speedo and warning light cluster in large chromed surround "just like a Harley". Almost hidden beneath the tank, is the big V-twin engine. Chrome covers, chrome "air filter" covers (on both sides, unlike a H-D), chrome exhaust pipe covers and silencers (sorry, mufflers...) all add to the effect, and dummy fins give a silhouette which is so close that you almost miss the fact that the engine isn't made in the US of A at all - and it's water cooled. The camouflage works pretty well - the radiator is profiled to fit tightly along the downtubes and being black in colour hardly shows at all. I'm not too familiar with the many and varied model designations of the American machines, but the overall styling is reminiscent of a Heritage Softail (without the softail bit) or perhaps one of the Glide models of the 50s - big deep fenders, wide bars, big chrome covers over the forks, you know the sort of thing. Then you notice another departure from Harley practice - shaft drive. Shaft drive? Water cooling? Is this an attempt to bring reliability and practicality to the poseur market? Well yes, I think it is, and it's fully understandable. After all, if you buy a bike like this you don't really want to spend your time getting oily with a chain, and water cooling allows the engine to be made with tighter clearances and more reliability than would otherwise be the case. So Samantha on the back isn't going to get oil on her dress, and Tarquin knows the bike won't overheat as he watches his reflection in the Kings Road shop windows on a sunny Saturday afternoon. On the move
Settling back into the sofa-like seat, and reaching forward (and outward) to grab the fat bars, I thumbed the starter button - and then realised I hadn't put the key in yet. Hang on - where is the ignition switch? Just like the "real thing", Kawasaki have decided that the ignition switch is so ugly that it can't be mounted on the forks like most bikes; instead it's mounted on the front down tube beneath the tank - ideally placed to make it impossible to locate from the saddle, and just right to collect any dirt and grime that flies up off the road. Oh well, that's "style" for you... A pull on the choke, hit the button and the big engine lumbers into life with a quite reassuring off-beat rumble and a satisfying boom from the silencers - that's one benefit of the water cooling, which makes the engine so mechanically quiet that you can hear the exhaust note despite being stifled by noise laws. That's the best it gets, though - above about 20mph wind noise quickly muffles any exhaust sounds from the rider leaving only a very muted induction roar to let you know it's a twin. Grab the clutch, snick into gear - hang on - where's the gear lever? It's then you realise that the bike doesn't have footrests, but what appear to be skateboards mounted to the front wheel, with car-type pedals springing up from them. The gear lever is a heel and toe affair - to stop your cowboy boots getting marked no doubt - and the stretch is very strange at first. Turning round in Kawasaki's car park was the next trial - the bike has the turning circle of a small car, and with the unfamiliar riding position it required a fair bit of concentration to avoid dropping the thing in front of amused Kawasaki staffers. Once on the road though, the bike was surprising easy to get on with. You soon get the feel of the footboards, and the steering is light due to the width of the bars. Gear changes required a firm foot (remember the shaft) and the brakes were adequate, if not startling (single disk on a bike of this size?) - the rear in particular getting some heavy use, which is a complete contrast to normal sport-bike riding. The bike was most satisfying when put into top as soon as possible, and then ridden on the throttle. While marginally more performance could be gained by revving the engine (no rev counter), the bike always felt rather breathless and unhappy when revved unnecessarily. Besides, the soft suspension and shaft drive reaction conspire to make gear changing uncomfortable - so why bother? Cruisin'
Of course as soon as I got underway, the rain came down - and there's nothing more distressing on a bike like this. Not torrential, mind you - just enough to make all the chrome go spotted and dirty - I found myself sitting at traffic light wiping the smears away with my hands (it's a slippery slope...). About 5 miles down the road came the first chance to pose - a major accident had blocked the dual carriageway, but cars in both lanes had pulled over to allow the emergency services to drive down between them. Off I go - nonchalently chugging along with one hand on the bars, other on my thigh, at about 15mph - right between two miles of captive audience; cool or what? It all ended when I reached the head of the queue though - and joined a couple of despatchers on a CX500 and GT550, along with someone on a BM. The balloon burst when I saw the mocking looks on their faces, and it was only when I explained the bike was a loaner that I managed to gain some cred' back. "It's not even a real Harley" said one, as though that would be an excuse. Once the carnage had been cleared and we were free to go, I took my chance and decided to show the mockers that the VN could go alright after all. Much crashing of shaft and revving of engine, and I beat them on the drag up to the next roundabout, and late-braked to throw the thing round - only to be completely foiled by the dreadful graunching sound as the footboards made hard contact, forcing me to lift the bike up and take a more sedate route. Fair go to the CX rider though - I couldn't see the smirk as he went up the inside... Naturally riding a VN like that is pointless - it wasn't made to do it. Nevertheless the engine's got a reasonable turn of acceleration, and the handling and tyres are good enough to easily use up the ground clearance (which is better than some). Out on the motorway shows another facet of the VN's character - it turns you into a parachute. By 50mph all the gearchanging's done, and you just wind the big, fat grips open and hang on. At 80 your arms are being pulled apart and off the down-pointing ends of the bars, and by 90 you're feeling like one of those G-force films - your legs and arms are stretched out in front, while the rest of your body does it's best to pull you off the bike. This also has a negative effect on the steering, which becomes even lighter than before. I saw a ton on the clock, but by then the bike was starting a slow, wandering motion, a bit like a boat, which warned me not to try any harder. With lower bars and ordinary footrests, 110 plus wouldn't have been a problem. City life
The city is where the VN is king - so long as you're not in a hurry. The bike looks the biz, and turns heads wherever it goes. The width removes any chance of squeezing through the gaps between cars, but then you don't really want to do that, 'cos you're posing. However the light steering and mid-range from the engine come it to their own, and make the bike pretty fast in the metropolis. And then attitude strikes again. This time it's Joe Commuter on his CB500/GPzsomething who always gets from the office to home in 17 minutes, (15 if the lights are with him). Knows all the dodges, faster than a despatcher ( he says), and he's buggered if he's going to let some nancy yuppy on a Harley lookalike get in his way. Except that the "yuppy" is an ex-despatcher and magazine road tester, and he's not all that easy to overtake... In the end I got fed up with playing the games and let him go, only to find another one cutting and diving to get past - get a life boys, please! Country roads, take me home
The best habitat for the VN (other than the city streets) is definitely the country lane. Pick a nice sunny day, don't set any deadlines, and a potter amongst the hedgerows is a delight. The gentle throb of the engine lets you know it's there but doesn't disturb the wildlife, and leaving the bike in top and just riding on the throttle can be good fun. The suspension is soft and bouncy, but the forks are surprisingly well controlled, and you can corner with confidence (allowing for the footboards). It's only when you stop after 100 miles to fill up you realise how much pain you've been in, and how you really don't want to get back on again. The riding position is such that it places all your weight squarely on your backside, and straight into the big fat saddle. Except that the big fat saddle is a big fat soft saddle, and all your weight ends up on the base of your spine. The furthest I managed in a day was 150 miles - after that I was worried that I'd done permanent damage to my body! Not the bike's problem
Looking at the complaints, you might think the bike isn't all that good. Wrong - the bike's well made, goes well, stops reasonably well, handles alright, and looks good. The complaints I have could be levelled at any one of a dozen bikes with this styling, from your genyoowine Harley to a Yamaha Virago. As far as the VN goes, it's probably one of the best in it's class - and you can bet it'll be reliable, shiny and last well. But it has an attitude problem. It's not one of it's own making, but it suffers nonetheless. In the UK, riders of these bikes will be classed as poseurs and the assumption (like Joe Commuter above) is that they can't ride, or aren't "real" bikers. And even amongst the riders who like this style of machine, a VN rider will suffer because "it's not a real Harley" despite the fact that in every facet other than name it's probably a better bike. Oh - and one final small detail: I asked everyone how much they reckoned the VN cost, and most estimates put it between 10 and 12 grand. Kawasaki UK claim to have sold every one of them at their retail price of £8695... Engine:Liquid-cooled SOHC V twin
Bore x Stroke:102 x 90
Displacement:1470cc
Compression ratio:8.6:1
Carbs:Keihin CVK40 x 1
Max. Power:64PS @ 4700RPM
Ignition:Transistorised
Starter:Electric
Transmission:Four-speed
Dimensions (LxWxH):2500mm x 965mm x 1100mm
Wheelbase: 1660mm
Seat Height:700mm
Ground Clearance:125mm
Fuel Capacity:16 litres Tyres: Front - 130/90 x 16
Rear - 150/80 x 16
Suspension:
Front - Telescopic, coil spring
Rear - Swingarm, twin shock absorbers
Brakes:
Front - single hydraulic disc
Rear - single hydraulic disc
Dry Weight:292.5kg
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