Writing fiction about motorcycles is a hard thing to pull off. First, you’ve got to actually know what you’re talking about, and most schlockmeister authors don’t know a thing about bikes. Second, if you’re writing a book about one-percenters or other unsavory characters, it’s hard to avoid Sons of Anarchy-style silliness. I’m happy to report that Running On Empty, Mark Richardson’s latest novel, avoids both those dangers.

If you pay attention to ADVrider, you might remember Richardson’s appearance on The Lowdown Podcast. His written work has also appeared in the ADVrider Journal printed magazine. Although most of Richardson’s writing has been about cars (he ran the Wheels section of the Toronto Star for years), he is an avid motorcyclist and has crossed North America twice on a DR600. Once, he even wrote a non-fiction book about it, and it’s pretty good.

Mark Richardson on his second cross-US journey on his DR600. Photo: Courtesy of Mark Richardson

Richardson’s latest fiction work draws heavily on his own experiences traveling the States on two wheels, and I think that’s what I like about it best. Running On Empty opens by weaving together the story of two characters; Zack, a stereotypical North American “biker” (scruffy, blue-collar, kind of shady, but not a gang member) and Grant (a wet-behind-the-ears new rider, who works as a sort of auto journalist/influencer). Zack’s a new character; Grant appeared as a secondary character in Richardson’s previous novel.

Both riders are headed to Sturgis on Harley-Davidsons for very different reasons when their paths collide in South Dakota. From there, the tale heads in a direction very unlike most biker fiction, which generally revolves around silly, made-up one-percenter gangs, with lots of gratuitous sex, drugs and violence. This book isn’t really like that; it’s more of a standard thriller, not unlike something you’d get in a Jack Reacher novel, but thankfully not that dumbed-down. There are no brawny super-fighters here, but also no super-smart former secret agents or anything else like that. Zack and Grant are average people; you probably know somebody like them.

At its core, the story revolves around Zack running from debts incurred from nasty, violent people in the present, while trying to sort out the mess of his past, when he was part of an extremist religious cult (also nasty and violent). I won’t spoil the entire plot here, but it has plenty of twists you don’t expect. And like I said, although it’s biker-focused, there’s no one-percenter stupidity here.

My favorite parts of the book are the description of Grant and Zack’s ride to Sturgis and then beyond to California to straighten out family ties that were destroyed by Zack’s past in the violent cult (shades of Waco, Texas for sure). The descriptions of riding through places like the Million Dollar Highway are accurate, and Richardson says that’s because he based them on his own experiences. The characters may be fictional, but the places and the bikes and the descriptions of life on the road are not.

This is Richardson’s second novel, and I hope it’s not his last. The end of the tale leaves a door open to future adventures, perhaps involving these characters again or using them to springboard new characters in a new book, like Richardson did in his last book. Maybe his next tale could be of somebody riding their ADV dreams, moving beyond the world of Harley-Davidsons and bikers? I think people would welcome a good novel along those lines, and he certainly has the travels to base it on, just like this book was based on real-life trips taken.

Running On Empty is currently listed on Amazon.com for $14.99 in paperback, $6.99 in Kindle e-book format for US customers. Canadians pay $8.99 for the Kindle e-book, or $19.99 for the paperback.

Richardson’s also launching a new non-fiction book right now, about the Trans Canada Highway. It’s called The Drive Across Canada, and if you like the fiction of Running On Empty or his earlier work Zen And Now, I presume you’ll like this one as well. It’ll be available in the US in June of 2025; see more here.

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Here’s what we told you about the machine at its debut:

The Moto Guzzi V7 Sport model has returned to their lineup, integrating the latest-generation air-cooled transverse V-twin engine.

That means an 853 cc engine with 67.3 horsepower at 6,900 rpm, with six-speed gearbox and shaft final drive as standard. Max torque is 58.2 pound-feet at 4,400 rpm. It now meets the Euro5+ emissions regulation, and comes with Sport, Road and Rain riding modes, thanks to a ride-by-wire throttle that let Guzzi manage the power delivery more precisely. This is currently the only V7 model with Sport mode; the company’s PR says it “offers minimal traction control intervention, designed to enhance thrilling rides on dry asphalt with added safety. It also includes an engine map with a more responsive and dynamic throttle feel.”

The new ride-by-wire throttle let Moto Guzzi tune the engine to have more aggressive valve lift. Other changes include a new airbox, new oil jets for better piston cooling and a third lambda sensor in the exhaust that improved emissions while also allowing for a boost in torque.

There’s also a six-axis IMU that let Moto Guzzi include leaning-sensitive ABS and traction control (you can turn TC off, but you can’t turn ABS off).

And as to how the bike works in the real world: See a summary of Nic’s review below.

The full story is here at Motorcycle.com

Photos by Milagro (Cervetti – Eletto – Martino – Zamponi).

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A couple of years ago, three friends and I set off on a journey from the Netherlands to the end of Kazakhstan, with the goal of re-creating a portion of the Silk Road. We ultimately got turned around by Azerbaijan (a story of geo-politics for another time) and ended up riding a loop through the best terrain that Türkiye and the Balkans had to offer, with Romania as the crown jewel. 

Sean and his riding mates used these bikes for a long-distance trip that put the bikes to test in every environment. Photo: Andy Cochrane

Leading up to this trip, the biggest unknown was what motorcycle to use. We had done rides like this before– including a month riding across Africa– but nothing that would ask this much of one motorcycle. Our baseline requirements were admittedly a bit unrealistic: we wanted a bike that could comfortably hold 90 MPH on the Autobahn and get us and a month’s worth of four-season gear up technical enduro tracks that were better suited for two-strokes. 

To our delight, the Yamaha Tenere 700 World Raid ticked these boxes, and so many more. Yamaha’s official specs (below) laid out a pretty picture of everything we wanted, all in one place:

• 23-liter (6.07 gallon) capacity dual side-mounted fuel tanks 
• Flat rally inspired two-piece seat 
• 5-inch color display with smartphone connectivity 
• 3-mode switchable ABS 
• High specification 43mm KYB front fork 230mm travel 
• Öhlins adjustable steering damper 
• Aluminum piggyback rear shock long 220mm travel 
• High-torque CP2 engine – two cylinder, four stroke, 690 cc 
• 72.4 hp @ 9,000 RPM
• 50.2 ft -lbs torque @ 6,500 RPM
• 455 lb (wet)
• Off road designed air cleaner box
• 21’’ front wheel / 18’’ rear wheel 

Early Apprehensions Put To Rest 

When we picked up the bikes in Amsterdam, we were all a little surprised. The massive 23-liter tanks made the World Raid feel way bigger than the standard Yamaha Tenere 700 we had tested back in the States. Additionally, we had a lot of questions about hopping on a new bike you’re about to ride twelve hours a day for a month straight: how will it feel with all the luggage? How will it handle a steep, rocky, and rutted hill climb? Will it vibrate too much at highway speeds? And so on.

In its World Raid spec, the T7s required no massive pre-trip prep to get them ready for the overland journey. Photo: Andy Cochrane

Fast forward just three days and we had already ridden through the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Italy, and crossed into Slovenia via a remote World War 1-era mountain pass. At that point we knew that the World Raids were comfortable and smooth at highway speed and could carve tarmac at a surprisingly high level. We were having the time of our lives pushing them to their limit – to the shock of the countless GSs, MultiStradas, and Africa Twins that we passed on our knobby Michelin Anakee Wild tires. 

Dirt Joy and Revelations 

Soon after entering Slovenia we hit our first dirt roads of the trip. The experience was one that I’ve had trouble describing without sounding hyperbolic. It was as if I suddenly found myself on an entirely different motorcycle than the one that felt so at home on tarmac. 

Although the T7 World Raid was based off the CP2 platform, originally made for the street, Sean’s group found them excellent for their off-road sections. Photo: Andy Cochrane

The power delivery was fantastically smooth, allowing us to predictably break the rear wheel loose on turns. The KYB fork and Ohlins steering damper created a joyous off-road experience, making the small bumps nearly disappear, absorbing big hits with ease, and energetically responding to throttle engagement and braking to make the most out of every type of terrain.

From this moment on, we didn’t think twice about road selection. We sought out the best dirt we could find and hopped back to tarmac when we needed to make up mileage. We spent the next month defying what we thought was possible as we traversed rock gardens, crossed rivers, climbed hills we could barely walk up, and generally had the time of our lives. 

KYB fork and an Ohlins steering damper helped keep the bikes upright and headed straight. Photo: Andy Cochrane

After 6,500 miles any apprehension we had was a distant memory – these bikes were the perfect tool for this job. 

Pros: Cross-Continent Reliability 

If you can’t tell already, I love this motorcycle. Here are some features that stood out to me after a month of riding it everyday: 

• Range: For a cross-continental trip like ours, the standout feature was the size of the tanks. This allowed us to make fewer stops and not stress when we ventured off into remote sections on the map.
• Off-Road Handling: The combination of the Ohlins steering damper, the 43mm KYB fork and the rear shock allowed us to ride off-road confidently despite having bikes loaded with 50+lb of gear. While navigating technical rocky or muddy terrain requiring slower speeds, the dampener helped mitigate the impact of quick bar movement as a result of front tire deflections.
• Reliability: We picked the bikes up with 0 km on the odometer, rode them like we stole them, and dropped them more than a dozen times (thank you crash bars!) All we had to do over the entire trip was check the oil, lube the chains, replace rear tires, and clean the air filters.
• Comfort: We routinely spent twelve hours a day on these motorcycles. The geometry was well suited for long highway days as well as days on dirt where we rarely sat down. This was true for all of us and we ranged from 5’10’’ to 6’2’’.
• Footpegs: I hate footpegs that are not wide or don’t have big enough metal teeth. Once the vibration dampening rubber inserts were removed– which we did immediately– the footpegs provided a wide and stable platform, 10/10.

Cons: Selectable ABS Modes Are Only Nice If You Can Select Them 

On the right side of the handlebar, below the start/stop switch, is a small thumb-operated wheel. In theory you roll the wheel with your thumb to navigate through a menu on the display. Then you push the wheel in to make a selection. But, in reality it didn’t work at all.

The fatal flaw of this interface is that dirt and dust can easily clog it. After just two days of off-road riding, it stopped working on all four of our motorcycles. We later learned that this is a known issue. The suppression mechanism gets clogged with dust, rendering it inoperable. 

Aside from some issues with the switchgear, the ABS system’s lack of an offroad mode was an issue for the crew. Photo: Andy Cochrane

The most damning result of this failure was the inability to turn ABS off. We’ve all ridden long enough to be able to adapt to something like this, but if you’ve ever had rear-ABS on while navigating technical downhill descents, you know how unfortunate this can be. Let’s just say we all became experts in engine braking by the end of the trip. 

Lastly, the World Raid version of the Yamaha Tenere 700 isn’t available in the States (yet?!). 

Verdict: The Motorcycle That Can Actually Do It All 

For many years I commuted, explored, and camped all over Uganda on a 1994 Honda XLR250 BAJA. I rode from Kilmanjaro to Cape Town on a first generation Royal Enfield Himalayan (it’s a tractor, but made the trip without a hitch). I’ve spent countless days across California and Baja on my trusty (and old) DRZ400S. My current bike is a KTM 500 EXC-F (the perfect bike if you don’t have to go on the autobahn). 

My perspective on what you actually need to have fun or even ride across a continent is grounded in these experiences. That is, I generally don’t think you need what motorcycle companies are selling. One of the reasons why I love the Yamaha Tenere 700 World Raid so much is that it feels like you’re still riding a proper motorcycle, not a piece of tech that tries to do everything for you. I prefer to use a clutch and shift gears myself, thank you very much. I don’t want 10 different riding modes or the myriad of settings that many modern “adventure” bikes have. 

Sean’s takeaway: For him, this is the one bike that can do it all. Photo: Andy Cochrane

Most of us can’t afford more than one motorcycle– I know I can’t. If you only want to carve canyons on the weekend, you’ll probably love a Yamaha MT-09. If you are exclusively riding technical terrain and single track off-road, maybe a KTM 300 XC-W is right for you? If you are traveling across your country or your continent only on tarmac and tame gravel roads, then the new BMW GS 1300 is pretty compelling. 

But, if you want the option to do anything mentioned above at a level of performance that will shock you, then I think the Yamaha Tenere 700 World Raid is the best option on the market. 

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Dango Design Gripper Mount: The deets

• Easy to deploy
• Mounts on a wide variety of surfaces
• Rugged enough for off-road use

Keep It Simple, Stupid

The Dango Design Gripper Mount is a very simple piece of kit. Basically, it’s a massive claw with a three-tab GoPro mount integrated. The claw has small rubber teeth that help it hold irregular-shaped surfaces better, and the claw is held shut by an extremely beefy spring that is doubled-up so that even if one end breaks, the other should keep it in place.

That black material on the end of the claw is flexible, which helps this mount grip a variety of surfaces. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

This means that as you ride along, if you’ve got this installed on the lower section of your helmet, it will stay in place unless you shift it yourself. I can’t speak to what happens under the G-forces that a Baja racer might encounter, but for everyday touring and dual sport riding, this stays in place unless you shift your head around in such a way that the claw gets bumped off-center by your body armor’s shoulder pads or something like that.

That is pretty much unavoidable unless you use a mount that glues or bolts into place, and a lot of riders don’t want to use those kinds of mounts on their helmets. And those kind of mounts can’t be removed to use elsewhere, while the Dango Designs Gripper Mount can also be used on your bike, or somewhere else; a bridge railing, an overhanging branch, whatever. It can also function as a crude tripod in a pinch, or a stabilizing handle for handheld filming.

The three GoPro-style mounting tabs can be oriented in different positions to give you the camera angle you need. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

If you decide to use this mount on your motorcycle, make sure you use the retaining strap if at all possible. When you wear this mount on your helmet, you can thread your chinstrap through that retaining strap to stop from losing your camera if the mount became detached. That might be tricky, depending where you mount the camera on your bike, but the danger is still the same, so think it through. Action cameras are expensive and you don’t want to lose one to carelessness.

Years of use

I’ve used this camera mount for three riding seasons now; I bought it after recommendation from a serious YouTuber. I think I paid $39.99 USD for it, and in 2025, the price is $49.99. I consider it money well spent.

I have never had this mount fail, and because the three-tab GoPro camera base can be rotated 180 degrees, I’ve been able to jury-rig the angle it to fit any action camera I have, and any helmet that has a chinbar (obviously, you can’t match this to an open-face helmet).

The Dango Design Gripper also works as a handle for filming. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Because I use a wide range of helmets over a season and ride a wide range of bikes in a wide range of environments, I much prefer this easily-adapted mount to any other I’ve used, even the GoPro Chesty mount, which itself is very good. Like the Chesty, the Dango Design mount lets you shoot horizontal fly-by footage as well, not just POV footage. With the Chesty, you can just grab your camera and turn it sideways; the straps have enough stretch to allow the movement, and you can get video footage of what you’re riding by without having to get off the bike, detach the camera, and so on.

With the Dango Design mount, it’s not hard to detach from your helmet (if that’s where you’ve got it mounted) and hold it in your left hand for flyby footage. It doesn’t work as well, but it does work, and if you want to shoot from the saddle, this is a useful feature. And unlike the Chesty mount, which I’ve probably used more than any other mount except for the Dango Design mount, the helmet-attachment position of the Gripper means you aren’t interfering with your jacket’s airflow by tightening it up with criss-crossed straps. In mid-summer heat, this matters more than you’d think.

For $49.99 USD, this thing does exactly what you need it to do and I would buy it again. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

To sum up: For $50ish, I think this is a good price; I spent my own money on it, and I would do so again. It’s well-made, tough, versatile, affordable, and does exactly what it was built to do with minimal fuss. I can only wish that every other moto farkle and accessory was the same.

See the Dango Design Gripper at Amazon.com here.

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SJCAM C110+ features

• Small form factor
• 4K/30fps resolution
• Low price

The C110+ is small, roughly the size of the Insta360 GO series cameras, which it is probably inspired by. It’s about half the size of your common GoPro camera; about the size  of a grown man’s thumb. It will record in a range of video resolutions, including 4K/30fps as the highest possible quality. It has no external screen; the only controls are two buttons, which serve to power the camera on/off, to start/stop recording and to connect/disconnect wi-fi. To switch recording modes, and to use other controls, you must connect the camera to your phone via the SJCAM app; it connects via wi-fi, not Bluetooth.

The camera only has two buttons; most control happens in the app. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

The camera comes some mounting equipment including a magnetic pendant; a charging cord; and a basic instruction manual in the box.

Using the C110+

To mount the camera on your bike or riding gear, put it into either the clear plastic case that’s included, or the bracket; both have mounting tabs underneath. There is no mounting option built into the camera’s body, except for using the magnetic pendant. The case and bracket both will fit most three-tab GoPro-style mounts.

SJCAM packages a few mounting accessories in the box. Note the white bracket-style mount on the left, and the full case on the right. The case offers far more protection to the camera’s lens, and also cuts wind noise down. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Once mounted, it’s an easy camera to use, if you’re controlling it with the app. The app shows your field of view, shows your recording mode (you can do standard horizontal video, vertical video, slow-mo, still photos, photo or video timelapse, loop-style recording at 3-, 5- or 10-minute intervals, or dashcam mode). The app also lets you tweak the camera’s light balance settings and other basic details of the recording, and select your recording resolution.

The app really is key to getting the most of the camera. You can stop/start recording without it, by using the button on camera, but the app works better.

The capability to take a removable SD card sets the SJCAM C110+ apart from some similarly tiny competitors. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Eventually it will be time to download the files off your camera. At first, I just downloaded straight to my computer via USB connection, as the app is clunky and I had a hard time figuring it out. Later I figured out how to use the app as well. While you can do many of the same things that you can with GoPro and Insta360’s apps, even share to YouTube or social media, you will have to do some thinking and digging to find some options. I actually think the app is not terrible for many users, as it’s so basic that you don’t get bogged down in the options like you would on a more expensive camera. But you will have to do some thinking and use trial and error to figure it out.

And then, once the files are downloaded, you’ve got your raw footage to deal with. The camera records to an onboard microSD card, and I know that it will accept a card of at least 128GB, because that’s what mine came with.

The camera’s limitations

This is where the limitations of the SJCAM C110+ become evident. See in the footage below; when used with just the bracket, hanging off the side of the bike, there appears to be no wind cancellation at all, by the sound of the audio. Even when the bike isn’t moving, the engine sounds weird.

Also, note that while this does have image stabilization, it appears to be limited in its capability when hard-mounted to the bike.

Here’s a look at what the slow-mo footage looks like on 8x (the most slowed-down it can go).

Later, I tried wearing the C110+ camera on a GoPro strap-on chest rig, in the full case and not just the bracket. This meant the mic was fully encased. Having the camera behind my Super Tenere’s windshield cut down wind noise dramatically, as you’d expect, but other weird noises seemed to be distorted instead. And when I stood up and the C110+ was back in the airstream, the case did cut down on wind noise a bit, but it was still there.

And here’s a look at what the camera can do when it’s not at speed. In this clip, my battery died and I was pushing the bike uphill.

Looking at it all, you be the judge as to whether this would work for you or not.

One other note: When using the camera in low temperatures, I felt the battery drained very quickly, as in, from 75 percent to zero in an hour or less. That might be fine for shorter rides, but it won’t work for longer rides. Of course, if it was warm out, that might be different, but unless someone wants to fly me to California to test this in a better climate, I can’t comment for sure.

The bottom line

I think that if you were wearing this camera on a chest or helmet mount, you could probably use it as a basic trip recorder; just don’t expect to use the audio. The video won’t be top-tier quality, but then, you can’t expect that for a $149 MSRP.

I also think that it has some value as a dashcam-style video recorder. In this role, you don’t need to have top-tier footage that lets you see a gnat on the backside of the deer that you almost ran into. You want a cheap camera that you don’t mind taking a bit of a beating, and this camera would work for that.

If you’re looking to seriously document your rides, and break into YouTube, a bottom-tier camera from Insta360, GoPro or DJI will only be a little bit more money. Those companies’ cameras will give you access to a far more powerful app.

My bottom line is this: There are far better cameras for not that much more money; if this is all you can afford, I’d counsel you to figure out how to get a few extra shekels and wait. But if that’s not an option (everyone’s situation is different), you could still use this camera, but you must be ready to work around its hardware and software limitations. People have documented RTW rides on potato cameras that were far worse than this, and still made good stories of it.

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High-pressure coffee

The AeroPress works by combining the pressurized action of something like a moka pot with a paper filter, like your standard household countertop percolator, all operated similar to a French press.

Operation is simple. First, heat up some water. Most of us will just boil the H20, but AeroPress actually has a recommended temperature slightly under the boiling point that will make your coffee taste better. You can obviously warm the water up however you want, but this means you’ll need a camp stove or some other heat source as part of your coffee-making apparatus.

Then, take a look at the Aeropress components. You get two main parts. First, a reservoir that holds your water and coffee grinds. The top is open; the bottom screws off, so you can place a paper filter inside.

Looking at the main body of the AeroPress, you can see how the bottom assembly locks on and holds the filter in place. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

The second main part is a plunger with a rubber flange at the bottom. This fits inside the reservoir.

There’s also a plastic stir stick and a measuring spoon included. In theory, that ~15-gram measuring spoon should get you the proper amount of coffee for the perfect taste every time, but of course owners will tinker with putting more or less into their brew. That spoon will get you into the right ballpark, though.

With your water heated up, place a filter into the AeroPress and set it over a coffee cup. Measure out your grinds, stir them, and wait for a short time, then push the plunger down into the AeroPress, pressurizing the water through the grinds and out the bottom of the AeroPress body, with the paper filter keeping the grinds out of your cup. Easy-peasy.

Put the main body of the AeroPress on a coffee cup and dump a scoop of coffee in. Then add hot water, and use the plunger assembly to pressurize the water through the filter. Presto, great coffee. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Does it make good coffee?

AeroPress users often rave about how good their coffee tastes, and I was skeptical until I got my own (my wife bought it for me; it was not a freebie). Now, like the Monkees sang, I’m a believer. The AeroPress has a good all-round blend of features that makes it an excellent coffee maker for campers.

I will say that I’m not some high-falutin’ coffee purist who insists on roasting their own green beans grown with only the finest mountain rainwater and blah blah blah. You know that type. In fact, I will be perfectly happy with instant coffee if that’s all that’s available. But my preferred coffee production method has been a moka pot for years; this method allows you to make a strong, flavorful cup with very little fussing, once you’ve figured out the grind that works best for you.

The AeroPress makes a coffee that tastes much the same as a moka pot’s results, but without as much sludge. I like the taste of the sediment that you get in a cup from a moka pot or in an espresso cup, but other people don’t, so they would prefer the AeroPress’s production. Of course, if you messed around with the size of the grinds (AeroPress reccomends a fine espresso-style grind) you might see this change, and the flavor will change with it.

How well does it work for moto camping?

This is a very compact kit that makes very good coffee, but it’s certainly not the most compact option. My GSI Ultralight Java Drip filter takes up a fraction of the space, and makes a pretty good cup of coffee as well. And with the GSI filter, I don’t have to remember to bring the paper mini-filters that fit into the AeroPress. There’s less clean-up afterwards.

GSI’s Ultralight Java Drip filter is probably the smallest coffee making system you can bring, except for instant coffee. It folds up to the size of a jam jar lid, taking no space at all.

But I like the AeroPress taste better, and it’s not that much more complicated to deal with. I think that’s what it comes down to: If you’re looking for a good cup of joe and it’s worth giving up roughly half a liter of luggage space, this is the way to go.

One other thing to consider is that the standard AeroPress only makes one cup of coffee at a time, and not a very big cup of coffee at that (8 ounces). If you’re traveling with a buddy, you can only make coffee for your campsite at a rate of one-cup-at-a-time, unless you buy the larger AeroPress, and then you’ve got to haul that larger equipment around, taking up space in your panniers.

So there are trade-offs to consider. However, I personally have been very happy with my AeroPress and plan to use it regularly going forward.

Amazon pricing for the original AeroPress is currently $33.95, with plastic body. You can pay more if you want larger, or if you want other materials. See more details here.

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A DIY solution

For years, I’ve used the Big Ears earplugs that you see sold at motorcycle shows. You know the type; you go to the booth, they squeeze some goop in your ears, and after a few minutes, it hardens into roughly the shape of your auditory canal.

Earplugs like this aren’t quite as expensive as those made by an audiologist, and a lot of people say they aren’t quite as effective either, but I have typically found them to have the best noise reduction. But what happens if you lose one or both of them, and there’s no upcoming motorcycle show to get a replacement set?

Log on to Amazon, and you can find DIY equivalents, similar to the earplugs that used to be advertised in those small ads in the back pages of newsstand moto mags. In late 2023, I’d bought a set of Decibullz, with a claimed NRR of 31 decibels. I’d paid $27ish CAD; I think the price has risen about ten bucks since.

The earplugs ship with multiple tips, to get a good internal fit to your ear canal once the main section is molded.

According to their marketing blurb, the buyer can easily get a perfect custom fit, offering superior noise isolation, etc., etc., etc.. Well of course they’d say that. But the description of the custom-fit process sounded simple enough:

Simply heat the Decibullz thermoplastic molds in boiling water, let them cool for a bit, and shape them to your ears. That’s it, and if you don’t get the perfect fit the first time Decibullz are the only custom earplugs that are re-moldable.

With reckless abandon, I splurged the $27 plus tax and put in the order. It was worth a try. They showed up a few days later, and I totally forgot about them until I was packing for that spring moto ride, and threw the package in my tankbag.

Molding the earplugs

So, there I was in a motel room with custom-fit earplugs that hadn’t been custom-fitted before I left. I needed them for the next day’s ride, so I had to come up with a solution.

The answer was: Take one of the coffee cups from the room’s table, fill it with water and put it in the microwave. That heated the water enough that I was able to throw the earplugs in one at a time, and push them into my ears for fitting.

You can see how the design works; there’s an internal core to the plug with the moldable material fitting around it. Then there are interchangeable tips that fit the end of the plug to your ear.

The Decibullz claim that these plugs are re-shapeable is correct; on one of the plugs, I noticed I hadn’t got the fit quite right, and I was able to warm it up again and get it better-molded to my ear’s shape. However, I do think that this one is not quite as noise-tight as the other.

Honestly, this was an incredibly easy process; I think that a lot of motorcyclists might be put off by the DIY factor, but it’s almost no hassle at all, considering I was able to do it in a motel room with a microwave and a coffee cup.

How they worked out

I used the earplugs through thousands of kilometers over that weekend and over the months since. I’m very happy with their performance.

I don’t think these earplugs offer the same noise reduction as my Big Ear plugs, but it’s pretty close, and if I reheated them and tweaked the mold, I might be able to improve them a bit.

The molded black section of the earplug is not as soft as my Big Ear custom-molded plugs, but it didn’t bother me. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

But as they are, they’re more than good enough. They offer far better protection than an ill-fitting one-size-fits-nobody earplug from Wal-Mart, and they even seem to offer a bit more noise reduction than Loop earplugs (more on them in a future review). I don’t use the Decibullz on every motorcycle trip; the Loops are my go-to. But the Decibullz are comfortable for a day’s ride of reasonable length, despite their non-cushy molded part; they don’t fall out, or rotate in place, or otherwise become dislodged.

With all this in mind, I think these are a good buy for the price. If you don’t get the fit quite right, you can re-shape them; if you don’t like them after that, well, you’re only out a few bucks. On my part, I wish I’d known about these earplugs years ago. They would have saved me a decade of hearing damage on the bike.

The post Decibullz Custom Molded Earplugs appeared first on Adventure Rider.

When specialization took off, motorcycles split into as many categories as you cared to make up. One of the more interesting was sports tourers. Mildly detuned from sports bikes and equipped with a bit of wind protection as well as being capable of carrying panniers and other luggage, they seemed the best of both sports and touring worlds. And they were.

Gravel road capability makes the Versys one of the most useful sports tourers.

Sports tourers are thin on the ground these days, and on the market. Off the top of my head, I can think of only four or five full-sized ones. Manufacturers all over the world are playing follow-the-leader and building adventure bikes. I guess something had to give in their ranges to accommodate these, and sports tourers lost the toss. This is not entirely surprising, since adventure bikes with their large fuel tanks are really just a different kind of tourer, and they bring the kind of power to the table that would make a sports tourer proud.

I don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with this change. After all, anything you can do with a sports tourer you can do with an adventure bike, and the extra ground clearance and suspension travel of the latter allow gravel and dirt road travel that would be difficult on the former. There are some relative drawbacks, true: adventure bikes aren’t especially aerodynamic or comfortable, their pillion accommodation is rarely particularly good and they often have 21 inch front wheels.

I rode an Africa Twin for a couple of weeks in the Canary Islands with their endless and wonderful hairpin bends. Well, wonderful if you have a bike that likes hairpin bends. The Africa Twin, or rather its front wheel, does not. I consistently ran wide unless I pressed the bike into corners. Not a lot of fun when the whole point of flying halfway around the world is to have fun. Not the AT’s or Honda’s fault, just the wrong bike for the job.

On the ferry to adventure: the bike is limited mainly by its tires. Lose some weight, Bear.

As well, many big adventure bikes don’t really see much adventure – i.e. dirt. Sure, their riders could tackle those fire trails or remote tracks. If they wanted to; but they don’t. The V-Strom 1050s, R 1250/1300 GSs and Super Ténérés are mainly travelling on sealed roads as if they were intended for that job – as if they were sports tourers.

Enter the Kawasaki Versys 1100 S. This really is a sports tourer, not a gravel bike although earlier and smaller Versys’ (Versi? Versuses?) did make some concessions to adventure riding. It is also just about the closest we have today to a UJM. I mean that as a compliment. The bike provides just about everything that we expect from a large Japanese bike. And it provides more, namely a welcome feeling of familiarity. I did not ride the previous model, but most of the changes are quite unobtrusive.

When I climbed aboard, I knew where everything was, I knew how it was going to work and feel and I knew that I could rely on it. As well, the bike just drips quality. The special long-wearing Kawasaki paint is beautiful and deep, the black engine treatment looks permanent, the instruments are predictably laid out and everything (except the USB C socket, which looks like a wobbly afterthought) looks right in a classy kinda way.

Instruments are exactly as I like them: analog for rev counter, digital for speedo with a clean easy-to-see layout.

The right-hand switch block is totally uncluttered while the left features only vital controls. Even the fog light switch (fog lights are standard) is on the facia, not the switch block. There’s a Bosch as well as a USB C power socket. Further back the panniers are convenient and easy to use, although they have an odd rear that robs space. The top box is huge but not entirely out of scale with what is after all a big bike. Accessories fitted to this bike for me included the tank pad, panniers and top box with fitting kits as well as the lowered seat. Prices are very reasonable.

As you’d expect, the 1099cc engine fires up straight away and settles into an easy idle. The gearbox is terrific, and the wide torque range means you’re not changing gear more than necessary. Turn in is very predictable and easy, although it becomes a little too enthusiastic at very low revs. I liked the seat very much. Kawasaki had fitted the accessory low seat, which I found welcome even with my long inseam – I’m 5’11”. At about 4,000 rpm you can feel a surprising amount of fine vibration if you touch the hand shields, but it doesn’t make it through to the hand grips. The quickshifter seems fine, but I’m not a fan of these things so don’t take my word for it.

The bike suffers from a common fault these days: its fuel gauge claims an empty tank when there is plenty of gas left.

Range from the 21-liter tank would be more than 400 kilometers (about 250 miles), although like many modern bikes the Versys has a fuel gauge that is seriously pessimistic so I kept fueling up at 300 kilometers. It shows near empty when the tank only takes 16 liters. The fairing and adjustable windscreen are outstanding and offer protection not only to head and torso but also the sides of the body, helped by the side air passages.

Panniers are spacious and easy to open an remove. Shape is a little odd, but luggage is keyed alike with ignition.

All-LED lighting includes very clever cornering lights which do not involve motors to move the main lights, but simply a panel of lights that shines into the corner. The instruments include a full-color TFT screen, the assist and slipper clutch is terrific and suspension is not really terribly long travel, but it’s fine for potholes and mild gravel. Yes, I did take the bike out on some dry dirt and gravel back roads, and as expected the limits were set by the tires. No complaint about the brakes on any surface.

I won’t go into the full electronic package; be assured that like other modern big bikes, the Versys 1100 S has all the electronics you might want, with the strange exception of a tire pressure gauge. When I mentioned this at Kawasaki, my friendly contact thought they might add it to the accessory range.

USB-C socket looks like an afterthought but is very welcome.

This bike, the S model, has the second highest level of equipment. Going down the range, the cheaper Versys 1000 lacks a few bits and pieces, while going up the main thing the SE has over this S is Skyhook suspension. Also on the SE, a Bluetooth chip built into the instrument panel lets you connect to your motorcycle wirelessly. Using smartphone connectivity several instrument functions can be accessed allowing you to view vehicle info, riding log, phone notifications, tuning of general settings, Kawasaki Riding Management, and navigation.

Call me a Bear of Little Brain, but I can’t tell the difference between the SE and the US model, the SE LT. Can you?

Specifications

Maximum Power: 99.0 kW {135 PS} / 9,000 rpm

Maximum Torque: 112.0 Nm {11.4 kgfm} / 7,600 rpm

Engine: 4-stroke Liquid-cooled In-Line Four, DOHC, 16 valves, wet sump

Displacement: 1,099 cc

Bore x Stroke: 77.0 x 59.0 mm

Digital Ignition, Fuel System: Fuel injection: ø38 mm x 4, Compression Ratio 11.8:1

Transmission: 6-speed, wet multi-disc clutch

Final Drive: Chain

Frame: Twin tube, aluminium

Front Suspension: 43 mm inverted fork with rebound damping (right-side) and spring preload adjustability

Rear Suspension: Horizontal Back-link, gas-charged rear shock with rebound damping and remote spring preload adjustability

Front Wheel Travel: 150 mm

Rear Wheel Travel: 152 mm

Tyres: Front, 120/70ZR17M/C (58W). Rear, 180/55ZR17M/C (73W)

Brakes: Front, Dual semi-floating 310 mm discs, Dual radial-mount, monobloc, opposed 4-piston calipers. Rear, 260 mm disc, Single-piston caliper

Wheelbase: 1,520 mm

Ground Clearance: 150 mm

Seat Height: 840 mm

Curb Weight*: 257 kg

Fuel Capacity: 21 litres

Price: AU$21,499. In the US, only the SE LT is available at MSRP US$19,499.

*Curb weight includes all necessary materials and fluids to operate correctly, full tank of fuel (more than 90 percent capacity) and tool kit (if supplied).

The post Kawasaki Versys 1100 S: A Touch of the Universal appeared first on Adventure Rider.

Go to almost any motorcycle dealership or a rally with vendors, and you’ll see people selling ROK Straps. But do they actually work as well as the salesmen and devotees claim?

What are ROK Straps?

ROK makes a few different products, including stuff aimed at pet owners and the tacticool crowd. ROK Straps are made for the powersports sector, specifically intended for securing loads to motorcycles, snowmobiles or ATVs.

For their moto-specific purposes, ROK Straps are built a bit differently from the el-cheapo bungees you find at Harbor Freight. They’re flat-wound, which is supposed to reduce their tendency to bite into your bike’s bodywork when they’re under tension and to minimize chafing on the cargo they’re securing, and reduce the chance of it slipping around.

The two-part design with three eyes (an eye at each end of the non-stretchy webbing on the left) lets you attach these straps to a very wide range of racks and motorcycle chassis components. Photo: ROK Straps

Also, there are no hooks. Most bungees use some sort of hook to secure the ends. ROK Straps have eyes sewn into the ends, using a two-part system. One part of the strap is non-stretchy, with an eye sewn into each end, and half a buckle in the middle. The other part of the strap is stretchy with an eye sewn into one end, and the other half of the buckle at the other end.

You can use ROK Straps’ eyes at the ends to secure them with a girth hitch. Or you can use the eyes to loop around hard points on the frame or a rack, as seen here on the luggage mounting points below the pillion seat. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

This means you can secure the ROK Straps to either two or three points on your bike, using either a girth hitch, or by hooking the eye around some solid part of your machine’s chassis. See it demonstrated on a bicycle rack below:

There are three versions of ROK Straps aimed at riders: The Motorcycle Stretch Strap, that can adjust to as long as 60 inches; the Pack Stretch Strap, that goes to 42 inches; and the Commuter Strap (as demo’d above) that goes to 28 inches. ROK sells some versions with fixed length, but the only ones I’ve ever seen used are adjustable-length. Slide the buckle around on the non-stretchy section of webbing, and you can make the strap fit as needed.

You can get ROK Straps in a wide range of colors. Photo: ROK Straps

All these straps come with a lifetime warranty. Several are available with reflective thread included, for more nighttime visibility. The longer threads are also made of beefier material; the shorter straps are thinner.

My own experience

I used a lot of different straps over the years before trying out ROK Straps, and had heard all the warnings of “don’t use a standard bungee, the end will come loose and put your eye out.” I always reckoned such predictions were somewhat overblown, but nevertheless, switching to ROK Straps with their better system of securing the ends, not to mention a lifetime warranty and the ability to adjust the length, makes ROK Straps worth spending the extra money on. At this point, I have two of the shorter Commuter straps and three of the Motorcycle Stretch Straps that I use regularly on my motorcycle.

On duty down in Nevada. Note that I’ve run the ROK Straps through the MOLLE webbing on that bag in multiple places. This helps keep things from shifting around. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

In general, I find the lighter Commuter straps aren’t ideal for full-sized motorcycle luggage. The plastic buckles don’t seem to have the grip I want for heavier luggage, probably because the straps themselves are smaller and therefore offer less resistive friction. I use them, but don’t rely on them.

Instead, I use the longer-and-beefier Motorcycle Stretch Straps—and I’ve used them a lot. On the back of my Bandit 1200, attaching camping gear to the Ventura rack. Attaching the Turkana Duffalo 25L and 40L bags to the back of my Super Tenere, my WR250R, and loaners like the CFMOTO Ibex 800, GasGas ES700, etc.

At the Cape Clear lookoff in summer of 2024. For easy forestry roads, where high-mounted weight isn’t as big of an issue, these straps make it easy to haul a bag on just about any motorcycle. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

This includes a lot of pavement and a lot of dual-sport riding too. In all that time, I’ve never been let down by these straps—but that’s partly because I don’t put all my trust in their elasticity.

Be realistic

A lot of the time, when I use ROK Straps, I back them up with a cambuckle strap (typically the trusty “BMW Strap“). Not always; if I’m going to only be on the street, I might be OK with just the ROK Straps. But if I am going to be off-pavement, I want to have a more solid connection to the bike, with no stretch, so it won’t shift around as the bike bounces. And if I’m going to be only using ROK Straps, I will make sure to loop them through MOLLE webbing or some other solid point on the bike, so if things shift around a bit, my luggage won’t fall right off the bike.

You can’t see the ROK Straps, but they’re there, attaching my sleeping bag and pad. What you *can* see is that BMW strap over the whole lot, serving as a non-stretching backup in case a plastic buckle breaks. I don’t always use a cambuckle strap, but I do like to at least carry one with me, just in case, if I’m using ROK Straps. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

I’ve known people who poo-poo’d me for my caution… and then lost luggage that fell off their bike when they didn’t exercise the same caution. And there are enough such stories that I am a firm believer in ROK Straps, but will always advise users to think through their use carefully, and remember they’re only as strong as the plastic buckle used to connect them.

One nice thing about ROK Straps is that the elastic has enough give that it’s usually easy to slip a pair of shoes, or a beach towel, etc., into the straps and have them secure it to the exterior of your luggage, instead of having to take the straps off to stuff the gear into your bag. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

But overall: ROK Straps work so well with such a wide range of gear that I spend my own money on this stuff and would recommend them to any motorcyclist, as long as you use them cautiously. They fit just about any kind of motorcycle and any kind of luggage; buy ’em once, and you should have them for life.

Check out ROK Straps at Revzilla here, or here at RMATV. Pricing is usually around $25ish for the medium-length straps.

The post ROK Straps: Good Equipment, But Use Them Carefully appeared first on Adventure Rider.

What’s new?

The third edition of Morocco Overland came out in 2017, and if you’ve been paying attention, you know Morocco’s road system has changed a lot since then, with constant roadbuilding (as Scott wrote about in Volume 8 of the printed ADVrider Journal).

If you only had this book, you’d learn enough to get around Morocco just fine, minus perhaps the difficulties posed by the language barrier. But the practicalities in this pages will help you even get through that issue.

Scott has this new book packed with updated maps as a result, with the country chunked up into seven regions, and coverage of each. There are new routes in this book, and 20 additional maps that will take you anywhere from the dunes at the edge of the Sahara to the mountains of the High Atlas.

Morocco has experienced some terrible rainstorms and flooding in recent years, impacting its transportation network, but many of these routes were scouted after the torrential downpours of 2023, and the book directs you to Scott’s website Adventure-Motorcycling.com for up-to-date details on the latest conditions.

The meat of the book

Flipping through the book, you’ll note that this is intended not just for motorcyclists but also for 4×4 drivers and also bicyclists, but the information for each of these parties is useful for all—terrain conditions, distances between towns, availability of supplies, it’s all important no matter what vehicle you’re using. There are chapters that deal with bicycles, motorcycles and trucks specifically, letting you know how to set your ride up for the trip, and what you need for riding and camping gear and other supplies. While not an exhaustive or comprehensive list, you will get a good idea of the basics required for survival at least. And then you get to the really good stuff: How to get to Morocco, and where to visit once you arrive. And what to do about your cellphone, where you can find a motorcycle rental, what paperwork you need, what maps you need, and so on.

Even these details on basic bike setup are a huge help to a lot of riders.

Do not discount the usefulness of such information, even though it might seem very basic. There are very good, free-of-cost places to find such information online, but gleaning through forum posts will chew up a lot of time, while Scott’s book only costs $34.95. Read it, and then go online with questions. It’s worth the price simply in time savings alone, and with Scott, you know you’re dealing with an expert with more than 40 years of adventures in Morocco, someone who knows the ground there better than maybe any other motorcyclist on the planet. You’re not taking advice from a random Internet contact who might have one trip to Morocco under their belt… or less.

The maps accompany turn-by-turn details on all the routes.

This book is also quite useful for when you’re on the road, maybe without reliable Internet access. Pack it in your panniers for when the trip is underway, and it might save your butt when you need to make a mid-day route change. I’ve been in this sort of scenario in the past, and will always recommend a good guidebook in your saddlebags if you have space. The turn-by-turn guide through the different routes will reassure you when you’re on the right track, and help you get sorted when you’re off.

The book, including the pages covering route details, is filled with gorgeous photography showing what to expect along the way.

Remember that Chris Scott and his pal Ed Gill also spent quite a bit of time scouting the Trans Morocco Trail while researching for this book (see the website here). While the TMT is free for all, buying the book helps pay Scott back for his work, and also gives you insight into what’s needed to tackle Morocco all on your own. Nearly all of the TMT is covered in the pages of this book.

The pages are interspersed with blurbs describing special-interest stops that you might want to take extra time to visit.

The bottom line

I’ve heard it all my career: “Print is dead.” But they’re still printing useful books like this, and I think thirty-five bucks is a small price to pay for 280+ pages of expertise on every single thing you need to know for a trip like this. I read through it on a cold winter day and while I had never seriously considered a Morocco trip before, left with the idea that maybe I should get over there myself. I think most competent motorcyclists could sort out some kind of adventure trip in the North African country based off this book, and the inspiration to head out like that might be the most valuable thing the book holds. Buy a copy for yourself, and maybe I’ll see you there next winter…

Buy the fourth-edition version of Morocco Overland at Amazon.

The post Morocco Overland: Making The Hard Work Easy appeared first on Adventure Rider.

While I’ll focus on the 9.5 Carbon helmet that I have, much of this also applies to the 8.5, which is the same basic design with a composite shell instead of carbon fiber. Each is available in six sizes and three shell sizes. The medium/large 9.5 Carbon weighs 1,490 grams (about 3.28 lbs), while the same size 8.5 weighs 1,575 grams (3.47 lbs). I’ll mention the other differences in these helmets along the way, but there aren’t many.

The Helmet Kit

Photo: Justin Hughes

It’s important to note that Leatt doesn’t sell the 8.5 or 9.5 Carbon helmets as standalone items. The only way to buy them is as a complete kit. These include both photochromic (which automatically darkens in sunlight) and clear face shields, one Pinlock 120XLT MaxVision anti-fog shield, a helmet bag, spare parts, and a pair of Velocity 4.5 goggles, all of which come standard with the 8.5. The 9.5 Carbon kit upgrades the bag to one I’d be happy carrying on an airplane with me, and the goggles are upgraded to the Velocity 4.5 Iriz. While $799 is a hefty price tag ($599 for the 8.5 kit), you do get quite a lot for that money.

Features and Safety

Image: Leatt

Leatt has always prioritized safety, starting with its first product, a neck brace. That focus continues in today’s gear. In addition to a tough shell (a six-layer carbon matrix in the 9.5 Carbon or a three-layer composite matrix in the 8.5) and standard EPS foam, Leatt uses its unique 360º turbine technology throughout the helmet. These small round blue pieces may look like they’re there for ventilation or even just decoration. However, they are specially designed to reduce peak brain acceleration in the event of an impact. In other words, they help your head slow down more gently as it impacts the inside of the helmet, which, in turn, reduces the force transferred to your brain, reducing the chance of concussion, among other injuries. Additionally, the cheek pads in both helmets feature an emergency quick release, enabling rescuers to easily remove the helmet once they have determined that doing so is safe.

Both helmets have excellent ventilation. A large front vent brings air straight in the front through a filter to help keep the dirt out. Two small vents on top of the helmet, under the visor, bring in more air to cool the top of your head. All of these vents can be closed, though the top ones are a little awkward to operate with the removable visor on. Six exhaust vents, always open, keep the air flowing freely. Since I tested the helmet during a southern winter, I did not have the opportunity to see how it performs on particularly hot days, but I was perfectly comfortable even at low speeds in temperatures up to the 70s.

Photo: Melissa Leger

The 8.5 has a standard D-ring for the chin strap, while the 9.5 Carbon includes a magnetic Fidlock buckle. At first, I was skeptical that a mere magnet would be strong enough to keep my lid on, especially under the extreme forces of a crash. However, the design has grown on me. The magnet just holds the parts together, while the force to pull the helmet off is at a right angle to that connection and quite secure. It’s very easy to remove when you want to, though contrary to Leatt’s claims, I still struggle to find the pull tab with gloves on. That’s probably my issue, not theirs.

Leatt’s helmets do not have provisions for a specific brand or model of helmet communicator, instead supporting any Sena, Cardo, or other brand you wish to install. I had no trouble installing my Cardo on the 9.5 Carbon, with my speakers replacing pads in the EPS foam cutouts designed for this purpose. There’s even a small notch in the rubber trim along the bottom of the helmet specifically to guide your wires inside. It fits perfectly, works perfectly, and I have no problem hearing it, even at highway speeds.

On the Road

Photo: Justin Hughes

The photochromic face shield comes already installed on the helmet. I used it for most of my testing and installed the Pinlock anti-fog shield on it. It transitions from almost clear to fairly dark rather quickly. It worked wonderfully in sunlight but was darker than I prefer when it darkened itself on cloudy days. This is when I would switch to the clear face shield.  I find that I prefer an integrated sun visor that I can flip up and down manually, but I understand that Leatt tried hard to keep the weight down in these helmets and that such a mechanism is much heavier than a photochromic face shield. The viewport is quite large, to the point where I could barely see the helmet itself in my peripheral vision. This also helps accommodate the goggles, which I’ll get to later.

Photo: Justin Hughes

The face shield is easy to change without tools or even a coin, as I’ve used on some helmets. Simply twist a plastic piece on each side and everything pops off easily. Installation is the opposite of removal. An extra pair of these connectors is included in the kit. This is a good thing, as one of mine broke one of the first times I swapped shields. I was home when it happened with the helmet bag right there, so I popped the spare on and have had no trouble ever since. It’s possible that colder temperatures may have had something to do with why the plastic broke.

Photo: Leatt

Angular ADV helmets are not nearly as aerodynamic as smooth, round street helmets. I’ve definitely noticed my head getting blown around a lot more by the wind in every ADV helmet I’ve ever used. Leatt has gone to great lengths to make the 8.5 and 9.5 Carbon as slippery as possible through the air, claiming 38% less lift and 8% less drag than the industry benchmark. I can’t validate these exact numbers, but I can say that the Leatt 9.5 Carbon is the least susceptible ADV helmet to wind buffeting I’ve ever used. The only exception to this is strong crosswinds, which still blow my head around a bit. This is hard to avoid in any helmet with as large a side profile as an ADV helmet. I run a large Givi windshield on my V-Strom during the winter, but even on my wife’s KLR with minimal wind protection, I don’t fight the wind at all, even at highway speeds. Between this and the low weight, I’ve ridden for several hours a day with no head or neck fatigue.

On the Dirt

Photo: Justin Hughes

The dirt county roads I live on were still pretty muddy, but the first warm day of the year was the perfect opportunity to steal borrow my wife’s KLR with its knobby tires and go exploring in dirt mode. I put the Velocity 4.5 Iriz goggles to use, though I left the face shield attached instead of removing it entirely. The goggles fit perfectly on the helmet, which makes sense because they were literally made for each other.

I didn’t grow up on dirt bikes, so this was actually my first time using goggles on the bike. I have little to compare them to, but I can say there was no fogging whatsoever. Leatt says there is a permanent anti-fog function built into the inner lens. I also wasn’t breathing into the goggles. Again, I was unable to test them in hot weather because I tested them in winter. They did fit over my glasses pretty well, though I would’ve been more comfortable without the goggles’ pressure on my glasses frames. It wasn’t bad, but I did notice it.

Photo: Justin Hughes

Once again, the excellent ventilation kept my head cool, even at slower speeds on the rough county roads. Breathing was easy, especially without the face shield in place and my nose exposed directly to the outside air. I didn’t notice the weight of the helmet at all as I bounced over bumps, something I can’t say about some heavier helmets I’ve used. I spent a couple of hours exploring and felt no weight or fatigue at all. I left the goggles on for a short pavement sprint from one county road to the next, and there was quite a bit of wind noise and buffeting at 55 mph. That’s only to be expected in this configuration. In the future, I’ll take off the goggles and flip down the face shield for a smoother, quieter ride when it comes to pavement.

You Get What You Pay For

I’ve put most of my ADV miles on a pair of Scorpion EXO-AT950 helmets. It is a perfectly good helmet, but certainly on the more affordable end of the spectrum, currently selling for $199 on Amazon. It weighs about 4 lbs, significantly more than even the Leatt 8.5, never mind the 9.5 Carbon. That weight difference adds up over a long ride. All of the touch points on the Leatt helmets are of higher quality, except perhaps the mechanism to open and close the front air vent. (According to Revzilla’s review, this is a known issue on preproduction models that Leatt is aware of and intends to improve in production. It may already be fixed by the time you read this). After installing my Cardo, the Scorpion’s pads have never fit quite right, while the Leatt’s fit just like new. Then, consider all the extra goodies that come in Leatt’s helmet kits. With all that in mind, these helmets are well worth their not-insignificant price tags.

Photo: Justin Hughes

The only additional thing I wish was included in the helmet kit is a second Pinlock for the included second face shield to make swapping on the fly that much easier. Otherwise, you either have to swap the Pinlock back and forth or put up with fogging on the shield that doesn’t have it. It fogs up pretty badly without the Pinlock, but it is not a problem at all with it installed. You can see the difference in this picture, where the shield is rather foggy up until it meets the Pinlock, where it disappears completely.

I freely admit that I’m nitpicking here. A second Pinlock costs $39.99, and though I don’t see it listed on Leatt’s website, it’s available elsewhere online. Leatt’s helmets are still a great deal for what you get. If $799 for the 9.5 Carbon is too much, you certainly won’t be settling if you get the $599 8.5 instead.

The post The Leatt 9.5 Carbon Helmet Is Worth the Premium Price appeared first on Adventure Rider.

In 2025, Fox is branching out beyond berms and whoops, building a new line of ADV gear. I had one of their Defend suits to try on a recent jaunt through the southwestern US. Here’s how it worked for me.

Construction

The Defend jacket and pants are made of heavier-weight material, which is why I selected them for this cold-weather trip—although they have some very useful venting, which I got to try out towards the end.

Their shell construction is mostly nylon, with a bit of polyester thrown in, and some elastene for stretch. The road-rash-resistant exterior is bonded to Gore-Tex for a two-layer material with sealed seams to keep water out. This is about as good weatherproofing as you’ll get in a mass-market ADV suit.

I opted for the orange gear, because… I like orange. But the Defend suit also comes in basic black, which is probably a better choice for a lot of riders. Photo: Fox

The cut of the jacket is streamlined. I don’t mean it’s a snug fit (it’s cut for American sizes. not the leaner cuts like you get on some Euro stuff). I mean I’m used to ADV jackets with lots of buckles and pockets and other stuff hanging off the front, and the Defend jacket doesn’t really have that. There are handwarmer pockets, but they’re integrated more into the side of the jacket. The waterproof vents on the front are sleek. The whole thing is much more sporty and enduro-ish looking than older touring-oriented jackets. It looks more like a weatherproof shell jacket that you’d throw over armor than an actual protective layer itself, almost futuristic.

Speaking of the built-in protection: There’s a CE-certified Level 1 D3O Viper back protector, and Level 2 D30 LP2 shoulder and elbow protection in adjustable pockets, so you can set the padding where it fits best. The pants come with removable Level 2 CE-certified D3O LP2 knee armor, also in adjustable pockets for a better fit.

For night-time visibility, you get the usual scattering of reflective trim. The fabric is reinforced in high-wear areas so they don’t wear out as quickly, and to offer better protection in a slide.

This picture actually *is* me, zipping around Historic Rt 66 to Oatman, Arizona. It’s the sort of road where you’ll want to move around on the bike, and the Fox Defend gear worked nicely, with lots of stretch in the material. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

The jacket has adjustability tabs on the sides and on the sleeves, but they’re very discreet, not the flappy monstrosities you see on some designs. On the pants, an adjustable tab at the waist as well as tabs at the bottom of the legs help you get a fit that suits you.

Fox knows that you need to have plenty of venting if you have a suit that relies on heavy fabric bonded with Gore-Tex, and that’s what we see here, with underarm vents, on the jacket, large vents at the front with hooks to hold them open channeling air through, and a vent built into the full-length front zipper closure. If the temperature rises, you can convert that front zipper into a massive intake vent for immediate cooling.

The pants have similar large vents on front and back. This kit is made to flow as much air as is reasonably possible. See Fox’s demo of this gear below for a better idea of how it all fits together.

Two thousand miles of testing

I wore this gear on a recent run through Arizona, Utah and Nevada over the end of January and start of February, for nearly 2,500 miles of everything from desert dirt roads to high-speed highways and everything in between. That meant a wide range of temperature changes, from well below freezing to the low 70s Fahrenheit (low 20s Celsius). It’s hard to find gear to accommodate such a wide range of temperatures well, and the Defend jacket and pants have no thermal liner to keep you warm in colder temperatures. I’m totally fine with that, because I almost never wear the liners included with gear anyway. On this trip, I wore an electric heated vest and layered a few shirts against the cold under the jacket, and wore a set of merino longjohns under the pants. It worked fine, and for most of the trip, when temperatures were closer to the 50 Fahrenheit/10 Celsius mark, I was plenty warm. When the temperatures were colder, a warmer set of base layer bottoms would probably have made more difference than more layers on my torso.

When the weather finally heated up at the end of my tour, I was happy to find the Fox Defend gear flowed air very well. While nothing will beat the comfort of mesh under a blazing sun or in sticky humidity, this suit was still comfortable when things got warmer, and I would have no hesitation to wear it on a cross-country tour unless it was the heat-warning time of year.

Initially, the Defend gear was just a tad bit stiff, but much better than textile jackets used to be. In the past, it could take weeks for riding gear to break in—does anyone remember putting their new Aerostich into the dryer with some tennis balls, to speed up the break-in period? Thanks to the stretch material in the Fox Defend’s fabric, that process is a lot quicker now, and moving around the bike and climbing into the saddle was comfortable after only a few days. Heavier fabric like this will never move quite as freely as lighter gear, but I felt this was very comfortable very quickly. Armor placement felt good, there was no chafing or other annoyance from the collar, no stitches of Velcro poking into me anywhere.

Hot desert days. Or at least, it felt hot; compared to the near-freezing temps of the week before, the toasty sun in Valley of Fire left me opening the zips to cool off. The Fox Defend gear seemed to flow air pretty well.

I did a lot of long-mile days on this trip, and that gave me a lot of time to think about the jacket’s design. At first I was not a fan of the streamlined layout, with pockets on the side instead of the front; when I’m on the road, I like to have my pockets quickly accessible for equipment I need (notebooks, pens, camera), and I have long found slit-style pockets on the side of pants or jackets are a sure-fire way to lose stuff. As well, stuffing gear into the internal front pockets did nothing to slim down my Dad bod look.

However, after using the jacket for a while, I came to appreciate the well-designed pockets on the inside of the front, on both the left and right of the zipper. On the inside, it’s easier to keep their contents dry, and less openings and stitching on the front of the jacket means better waterproofing on the exterior as well. Not that I had the chance to test this—it didn’t rain during my 11-day trip.

The leather on the pants’ lower legs keeps you from scorching them on your exhaust. The Velcro adjustment tabs on the back allow you to cinch them down very tight, which is nice if you’re trying to keep from catching on trailside brush.

It might seem silly to make this much ado about pockets, but pockets and zippers are the parts of your jacket that you’ll actually use the most on the road. And speaking of the zipper, I will say that despite Fox using a high-quality YKK AquaGuard zipper on the front, I did find it a bit finicky to use. All the other flaps and openings and vents on pants and jacket were flawless, but sometimes when I went to connect the two sides of the front zipper, it felt like there was an alignment issue when getting them to actually connect, and it took some fidgeting. Once zipped together, there were no issues. I don’t think this should concern potential buyers, because Fox’s lifetime warranty guarantees they’ll make something right if it has a manufacturing or material defect. In this case, it was YKK’s product anyway, not a function of Fox’s build quality. On the contrary, for a first-time effort, I think the Defend’s build quality was pretty good—I’ve had textile gear from established OEMs that came with far rougher construction.

The bottom line

The price of quality ADV gear keeps rising; the Fox Defend jacket sells for $699.95 in the US, and the pants are $649.95. That’s in line with lower-priced Klim kit and higher-priced REV’IT! stuff; it’s right around where mid-range Alpinestars MSRPs sit.

I think that’s about fair for the Fox gear, but it will take a few years on the market for the majority of ADVriders to decide whether that’s true for them. Fair enough, but Fox does have a long history of producing gear for motocross and downhill MTB, and that has held up well for countless riders. If their new stuff does the same. I think they’ll be a serious competitor in the ADV gear space—and from what I’ve seen so far, I think buyers will be happy with their gear.

Revzilla has the Fox Defend jacket here, and the pants are here.

The post Fox Defend Jacket and Pants: Good Gear, Right Out Of The Gate appeared first on Adventure Rider.

What should you do when you have five free days mid-winter in the southwest? You should head for the hills, pronto, and that’s what I did in early February aboard a CFMOTO Ibex 800 E. I was very curious to see how this Chinese/European collaboration would work over some long-haul riding, and even though my time aboard the bike was short, I think I packed enough miles in to get an answer.

What’s a CFMOTO Ibex 800 E?

Of all the major players in the Chinese moto market these days, CFMOTO is one of the most interesting. Back when other Chinese companies mostly focused on bike exports to the west in the 200cc class, CFMOTO had a 650 parallel twin that looked very similar to Kawasaki’s Versys powerplant. I read good reviews of the bike from Europe, but we never saw those machines in North America in large numbers. But now, in 2025, CFMOTO is taking North America’s motorcycle market seriously. One of the cornerstones of their plan is a middleweight adventure bike built with technology borrowed from their partner, KTM.

Yeah, we’ve seen that engine before. This is basically the same powerplant as KTM’s 790, but with some different tuning, probably mostly because it uses a different EFI system.

Taking a close look at the CFMOTO Ibex 800 E, it is obviously very closely related to the KTM 790 Adventure, but this isn’t a case of CFMOTO sneakily copying KTM’s homework. CFMOTO is actually KTM’s manufacturing partner, and builds the 790 Adventure for KTM in China. As part of that deal, they also have the rights to build their own take on this design—the 800 Ibex. But take note; there are many similarities between the “European” 790 and the Chinese 800, but there are also several significant differences.

Muscle-building

Those changes start with the parallel twin engine. Make no mistake; this is an LC8c design, just like the KTM 990 and 890 and Husqvarna 901 are all LC8c designs, with DOHC and four-valve heads. Displacement is the same as the 790 engine, and peak horsepower kicks in at 9,000 rpm, same as the 790. Peak power is basically identical, at ~94-95 ponies—basically, it’s a rounding error. But the 800 is rated for just under 57 pound-feet of torque at 6,600 rpm, while the 790 is rated for 60 pound-feet of torque at the same mark.

The 800 engine feels almost identical to the 790, with a quickshifter included at no extra cost. Bonus!

Really, that just sounds like a rounding error as well, and few Average Joe riders will notice when they’re in the saddle. I’m just noting it here to say you may get a slightly different power curve than the 790, but it’s basically the same idea.

The CFMOTO 800 has a slipper clutch with up/down quickshifter included as standard (it’s a pay-to-play option on KTM’s lineup). The Chinese engine uses a Bosch EFI system where the KTM version uses DKK Dell’Orto EFI, which is probably the explanation for any significant differences in the power delivery of the respective bikes.

Chassis change-ups

The basic frame design is pretty much the same for the 800 and the 790, but there are other noticeable changes to the hard parts.

The KTM’s low-slung wraparound tank design carries fuel lower than the Ibex’s traditionally-mounted tank. But if you aren’t off-roading, this is less of a concern, and the Ibex is a street bike first, not intended for the same off-road pace as the 790.

Right away, you’ll notice the Ibex has a gas tank in the traditional over-the-engine mounting position where the KTM’s tank is low-slung along the sides of the engine. This changes your bike’s center of gravity; remember, that unique tank design was one of the most significant features of the first-generation 790 Adventure due to its desirable handling benefits. Fuel capacity on the CFMOTO is 5 gallons, where the KTM claims 5.3 gallons, so there’s no significant difference in volume.

The Ibex also has KYB suspension, with fork adjustable for preload, rebound and compression; the shock is adjustable for preload and rebound. The spec sheet doesn’t list travel length, but it’s obviously different from the 790’s WP APEX suspension, as the 800 also has a 19-inch front wheel and 17-inch rear, where the 790 comes with a 21-18 wheelset. The CFMOTO has spoked aluminum alloy rims set up for tubeless tires.

A USB-C port in the fairing beside the screen will keep your phone powered up, or maybe even a GPS in a pinch.

Other details

Bosch cornering-sensitive ABS is standard, along with traction control and wheelie control. The 800 comes with six ride modes built-in. Here’s CFMOTO’s explanation of the modes to their Australian customers:

SPORT: provides the sharpest throttle response and maximum torque output with a low level of TC intervention. Perfect for experienced riders out for a spirited ride on the tarmac.

OFF ROAD: provides a softer throttle response than SPORT with the lowest level of TC intervention.

OFF ROAD+: provides a softer throttle response than SPORT with the lowest level of TC intervention. The rear wheel ABS is also deactivated.

ALL TERRAIN: provides a softer throttle response than OFF-ROAD with no TC intervention. The rear wheel ABS is also deactivated.

ALL TERRAIN+: provides a softer throttle response than OFF-ROAD with no TC intervention. The front and rear wheel ABS are deactivated.

RAIN: provides the softest throttle response and the gentlest power curve with the lowest maximum output and the highest level of TC intervention best suited for wet and slippery conditions

There’s an 8-inch MMI screen on the bike instead of the trim, futuristic TFT that KTM is putting on all its new machines; basically it looks like the previous-gen KTMs. Using Bluetooth, you can connect your phone to the bike with CFMOTO’s RideSync app, and Apple CarPlay is also available, allowing navigation functions, music playback control and incoming call control. Of course you can also see your speed, odometer, rpm, and other useful details, and in conjunction with the left-hand switchgear or the dash’s touchscreen capability, you can switch between ride modes and other electro-safety features.

The dash also offers a proximity warning system, displaying a visual alert when another vehicle is in your blind spot or behind you. There’s a TPMS read-out, and a display for remaining fuel range. Mostly very useful stuff, although I will say that I was unable to get the CFMOTO app working for me—but I think that was a compatibility issue with my Android phone, which had no 5G data as I was roaming out-of-country.

CFMOTO’s dash offers the same trickery and tweaking as the competitors. I prefer KTM’s menu system, but this works fine. Photo: CFMOTO

The dash allows you to turn on the adjustable-level heated grips and seat. Foglamps are controlled by a button on the left-hand switchgear, as is the cruise control.

Finally, taking a step back, the bike does not look like the copy-and-paste design that Chinese manufacturers used in the past, mixing and matching Japanese styling cues. You could argue that it is quite similar to an Africa Twin’s general aesthetic, but it certainly isn’t an egregious copycat. KISKA, the same people who design KTM’s motorcycles, also designed the Ibex 800E’s aesthetic. I believe it; it looks great in-person.

Riding the CFMOTO Ibex 800 E

I jumped on the Ibex just as nightfall and rush hour hit Las Vegas at the same time. On my cross-town jaunt to my extremely shady motel in an extremely shady part of the city, I figured one thing out quickly. Despite the naysayers who poo-poo the bike’s weight after quickly glancing at the spec sheet, the 509-pound-wet machine handles very well in herky-jerky urban traffic. It’s no supermoto, but compared to my bulky old Super Tenere, this thing is a dream to push around.

The Lake Mead route was a far preferable option to the Route 15 interstate on my way north to proper riding grounds in Utah. Note that bag strapped to the back; while a sturdy aluminum rack is always a worthwhile addition, the plastic rack that comes stock on this bike will work just fine for casual weekend touring like this. And those side pannier racks come standard as well, so it’s easy to add your own luggage of choice.

That was the theme for the next thousand miles of riding: Myth-busting. The peanut gallery says this bike can’t be reliable or fun because it’s made in China. I can say otherwise. It has plenty of jam, and frankly, the engine feels just like a KTM 790 when you’re in the saddle and that’s a good thing to me because I enjoy the 790 more than the 890. With the smaller engine, you might not have the same muscle available, but you can tap into the available power more quickly and feel like you’re getting more out of the engine.

This, of course, is just my opinion, and a Professional Hoon (which some readers are, and many other readers think they are) will squeeze much more out of the 890 than I will. If they’ve got a need for speed, they will prefer the bigger engine, no doubt. For my money (which I keep a very tight hold on), the 790 is Where It’s At, and I like CFMOTO’s take on it. I did everything from high-speed highway touring to tight parkway lollygagging to twisties in the mountains to backroad bombing across northern Arizona, and I had no niggles at all. No fueling burps, no missed shifts, and plenty of power in every gear. I have ridden other far more expensive motorcycles that I cannot say the same about. This is a great motor for the sensible grown-up who still likes to flog their bike when they’re far from Johnny Law’s prying eyes—civilized for legal speeds, but capable of uncivility if required. All while getting reasonable fuel economy, and without any frustrating vibration.

Unfortunately for me, some of the best riding I saw was through areas filled with ice, and I had to keep the pace down as a result.

Also: If you can believe the experts of Facebook, the CFMOTO version of the 790 engine has a lower failure rate than the KTM version. I’m not sure about this, as the engines appear to be essentially identical, but some people say this is the case. YMMV.

On to the chassis. I did not futz around with any of the suspension settings fore or aft, because it felt fine for the legal-ish pace I kept up most of the time. If I was heavily loaded down, or bombing around off-road, then maybe I would have felt the need—but most riders aren’t buying this to tackle dirt at speed anyway, with the 19-17 wheelset.

When I did head off-pavement, I felt the bike was very sure-footed and if you did want to ride the dirt, I think you could push this a lot farther and harder than some of the other bikes on the market with similar 19-17 wheels. Despite a bit more weight and other differences from its progenitor the 790, the CFMOTO still has excellent handling, quality suspension, an electronics package that can be dialed in for the dirt, a good skidplate and basic crash bars and hand guards included as stock. I wouldn’t push the Michelin Anakee Adventures super-hard in sloppy conditions but they were OK on the recreational and farm roads I was on. They are a good compromise for a stock ADV tire, and much better than the no-name rubber that used to come on Chinese bikes. However, I’d replace them if I was serious about off-roading this machine (see this multi-year thread for ADVrider inmates’ insight into these tires).

That seat was mucho comfortable for me, and the built-in heater was scorching-hot.

However, I don’t want to leave you with the impression I bashed this thing around in the desert for endless miles. The off-pavement riding I did was limited, and for the most part, at low speeds. I can only say that based off my limited time on desert ranch roads, I would say this bike is probably far more capable in the dirt than most of its buyers will be, even though it’s primarily a street tourer. The few miles I did certainly left me wanting more.

I don’t think it’s a bad thing that CFMOTO built a street-oriented take on the 790 platform; for years, I have wondered why KTM doesn’t do the same. They have S and R versions of their 1390 series and the 1290s before that, and those see limited sales compared to the LC4c engines. Whatever the reason, CFMOTO has beat them to it, and the Ibex 800 E is a fine street bike. The weather worked against me when I was in the twisties (I thought it unwise to push my luck on the high-elevation corners of Utah Route 14, considering it was mid-winter and the passes were full of snow, with thawing run-off streaming across the road). But with the quicker handling of the 19-inch front wheel and suspension that ate up every bump while keeping the rubber planted, I think the Ibex is going to capture the attention of a lot of the back-road touring set.

The windscreen and bodywork do a great job of keeping you out of the weather, although I’m sure the aftermarket will quickly offer over-sized options for this machine. And under-sized options, too. That’s how the industry is. But I think the adjustable screen is realistically all that most riders will need.

It might grab the attention of the long-haulers, too, because it’s pretty comfortable on the highway. I did have one day’s ride in southern Utah where a combination of crosswinds, windscreen angle and my helmet position worked together to make a rather horrid screeching sound. If it was really a problem, I could have reconfigured the windscreen to stop the whistling, as it’s manually-adjustable. Aside from that slight niggle, I found the Ibex comfortable, with heated grips keeping you roasty-toasty and a heated seat that I could not run above the Medium setting, as it would start to bake my buns otherwise. I’m not sure what kind of element they used in the seat, but it sure pumps out the BTUs.

As the ultimate comfort test, I did a there-and-back run from St. George, Utah, to Monument Valley on the Arizona/Utah border in a day. That’s about nine hours of riding in mid-winter cold that turned into early-spring warmth at day’s end. It was only at the very end of that day, riding back into St. George in the dark, that I finally felt some saddle cramps, and the rest of my upper body was fine—the screen had broken the windblast nicely all day. For a bike with minimal bodywork, I think the Ibex 800 E keeps the weather off you nicely. I certainly wouldn’t be rushing out to replace the seat either, unless I wanted a flatter one-piece saddle for off-roading.

Yeah, you’d probably want new tires if you were pushing this bike off-road, but then, how many stock dual sports and ADVs is that not true of? I think the stock tires are excellent street rubber and good enough to get you started on the gravel.

At the end of five days’ riding, I dropped the bike off with about 1,200 miles racked up on the odometer. I would have liked more time to try a bit more off-roading and to enjoy the twisties of the southwest as the weather warmed that week, but it wasn’t possible. But my time with the CFMOTO Ibex 800 E did leave me convinced of one thing: With a $10,299 MSRP (including a two-year warranty), I think the only factor left to convince a lot of riders to buy this bike is a test ride. With options like quickshifter, pannier rack and skid plate included, which would quickly add up to hundreds of bucks on similar machines from other OEMs, the deal just looks better and better. If I was on the market for something like this, that sales pitch would probably work on me.

It makes me wonder just how good the MT-X, which CFMOTO is basing on the same platform, will be…

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Here’s what Mike told us about the Tiger Sport 800 at its debut:

The heart of the new Tiger is an entirely new liquid-cooled, fuel-injected 798 cc triple-cylinder engine.  And if Triumph’s claimed specs are correct, this engine obliterates the performance of the previous Tiger 850 Sport’s 888 cc powerplant. Triumph says the new Tiger Sport 800 triple-cylinder engine makes 113 hp (@ 10,750 rpm) and 61.9 lb-ft of torque (@ 8,500 rpm). Compared to the 2024 Tiger 850 Sport’s 84 peak hp and 60 lb-ft of torque, the new machine’s engine opens a chasm of more than 34 percent more horsepower than its predecessor, using 90 cc less displacement.

and:

The new Tiger still has a tubular steel frame but gets an upgraded suspension setup for 2025. The bike’s fork and shock now feature Showa components, replacing their predecessor’s Marzocchi fork and shock. Up front, you will now find a Showa 41 mm upside-down separate-function cartridge fork, which offers 5.9 inches (150 mm) of travel and is adjustable for compression and rebound damping. At the rear, a twin-sided, cast aluminum swingarm attaches to a Showa right side up (RSU) monoshock. It features adjustable rebound damping and remote hydraulic preload adjustment, as well as 5.9 inches (150 mm) of travel.

See his initial write-up here, and see MO’s photos from the launch below, with Nic de Sena’s observations:

See Nic’s full review here at Motorcycle.com.

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Wait—who’s Benelli?

Most Americans probably know the Benelli name from shotgun manufacturing. The motorcycle side of the company was once attached to the firearms manufacturer, but they’ve been separate entities for a long time now. For years, Benelli made exotic, sporty motorcycles in Italy and sold them worldwide. Now the company designs and markets their bikes in Italy, but they are owned by a Chinese company and their bikes are built there as well.

The Benelli TRK502X sits near the roadway outside Arivaca, Arizona. I spent about 1,400 miles on this machine, mostly on small, narrow back-country two-laners. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Initial impressions

Walking up to the Benelli TRK502X, it is obvious that the Chinese motorcycle industry has come a long way since the days of the Lifan GY-5 and similar el-cheapo machines. It looks properly put-together. The only real immediate giveaway that it’s not a more expensive brand is the round Benelli decals on the tank—they aren’t integrated into the finish the way you’d see on a more pricey bike, and I expect they’d peel off quickly if you wanted them too. The other decals on the bike are not like this, and I actually thought the accent trim on the bike’s tank looked pretty classy, with little travel-inspired designs printed on the decals that look like something you’d see on a Husqvarna 901.

Jumping in the saddle, despite a 19-17 wheelset, the bike has a 33-inch seat height and it felt like just a bit of a climb at first, after months out of the saddle thanks to Canadian winter. Part of this is because the bike is compact, and that makes it harder to throw your leg over the seat. Having a topcase and duffel bag strapped down to the tail also made it feel a bit tricky to climb aboard, but after a few days, this was no longer the case. Once I was sitting on the bike, I was able to flat-foot it, something that’s important to many beginning riders, smaller riders and older riders—the kind of riders looking to buy this bike. Unless you have a super-short inseam, shorter than my 31 inches, you should have no issues here.

Initial impressions: The Chinese motorcycle industry has come a long, long way from its beginnings. While fit and finish on this bike are not quite at the level of the big-name Euro and Japanese OEMs, you have to look very closely to see the small details that make the difference. Most riders legitimately won’t care, and probably won’t notice. And over my test, nothing rattled loose, no stickers peeled, etc. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Back the bike out of the parking spot, roll on the throttle (which had a bit too much slack in it, but that’s easily fixed by an owner), and I was stoplight-to-stoplight on a secondary road out of Las Vegas, headed towards Kingman, Arizona.

Highway riding

With less than 250 miles on the clocks when I picked up the Benelli, the machine was still in its break-in period, but it had no problem dealing with all highway speed traffic. Loaded as we were, the machine and I caught a bit of side wind coming through the hills around the Hoover Dam, but certainly nothing I wouldn’t expect on any loaded-up ADV.

A USB adapter on the left-hand side of the fairing let me plug in my phone for nav; there’s no high-falutin’ TFT screen on the 502, just an analog tach and an LCD speedo with read-outs for temperature, fuel level and a few other minor details. No problem, navigating with the phone was easy, and Google Maps is certainly more stable than a lot of buggy OEM proprietary apps.

A relatively un-cluttered dash. No TFT for this bike, and no ABS “off” switch. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Desert adventures

After a relaxing night of listening to Interstate 40 traffic, trains stacked with Amazon containers and late-night revelers checking in next-door to my Motel 6 accoms, I headed towards Oatman, AZ in the morning. Due to my hubristic assumption that I knew the way just fine, I soon ended up in the middle of nowhere, far off the Oatman Highway (aka Historic Route 66). When I found out my mistake, I saw I could backtrack several miles on pavement, or I could cut across the desert on a series of un-maintained dirt roads

The choice was easy, and I headed out on the dirt tracks. The Benelli finds this kind of unpaved riding very easy, and although the suspension and tires are certainly aimed at street riding, they were just fine at 45 mph across the desert dirt road. If I didn’t have luggage on-board, I think I could have held a faster pace.

However, the dirt road eventually turned into ATV two-track filled with washouts and baby-heads. The 19-inch front wheel was at a big disadvantage here, and with the bike loaded top-heavy, I was in some tough spots before I finally extricated myself onto the Oatman Highway, promising myself I wouldn’t try that again.

Unpaved, well-used farmland tracks like this, or similar forestry roads, are no problem for this bike. It was only when the terrain turned into washed-out culverts and baby head-sized rocks that the Benelli found the going tough. The luggage on-board didn’t help, and that’s not the bike’s fault. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

While the Benelli TRK502X will handle a moderate pace off-roading, proper tires and better luggage setup would make a big difference. Also note that you can’t disable ABS with a dashboard switch; you’d have to pull a fuse, so take that into consideration before launching yourself down a steep, loose incline aboard this bike. And if you were doing a road with any amount of rocks, you’d want more skid plate coverage than the stock G-string they bolt under the sump.

Despite all this, I actually think this would be more than enough bike for most ADVers who just want a machine to connect asphalt to asphalt with the occasional dirt road. It will haul you along just fine as long as you take your time and have realistic expectations. If you want to push harder, buy something with a 21-inch front wheel.

On to Oatman

The road into Oatman, Arizona has beat-up pavement, tight sight-lines and killer corners. The Benelli chewed this stuff up. Or at least, it ate it as fast as its horsepower and weight allowed.

Stock skid plate protection is minimal. You’d want to upgrade that, if you planned on riding any amount of time off-pavement. The stock crash bars appear to be plenty rugged, though I didn’t crash the bike to find out for certain. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

No matter which spec sheet you believe, this is a heavy bike for its size (the best guess we’ve seen at wet weight is just under 550 pounds). But I actually found that it handled very nicely for all that weight, and didn’t find it overly porky because the wet weight includes 5.3 gallons of gas plus crash bars and a fairing/windscreen, and I don’t think most 650 dual sports would weigh much less if similarly equipped. It also helped that despite its weight, I found the bike’s mass well-centralized and the 19-inch front wheel helped steering in the tight stuff.

One thing I would probably change if I owned this bike—I think I would have gone with handlebars a little wider, and set further forward. This is a subjective question, but I think I would have preferred to try a wider bar to see its affect on handling, particularly in sweepers.

As for the engine: With about 47 horsepower on tap and 33.9 pound-feet of torque, this is not a powerhouse. But if you aren’t a jaded horsepower junkie, you should be able to entertain yourself quite nicely in the tight stuff anyway. I found the power delivery plenty for the Oatman run and the many other country backroads I tackled on this trip. If you want more power, Benelli has bigger bikes for you. With a predictable, linear power delivery profile and a relatively quiet, if uninspiring, exhaust note, it’s easy to ride the Benelli all day long without getting worn out. And if you have to shift gears a bit more frequently than you would on a literbike, so what? Working your machine is a big part of the fun, in my opinion.

Non-adjustable suspension on the left, a USB charging port on the right. The TRK502X only has one charging port in the fairing, so if you want to run juice to multiple devices on your handlebars, you might have to add some wiring. No big deal, this is standard on competing small-cc bikes as well. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

The highway run

Out of Oatman, I ended up on straight-run secondary roads to Quartzsite, then on to the day’s end along Route 10. The 502 will hold up with traffic on the interstates, but in its first hours on the freeway, the engine seemed a bit held-back as it broke in. Passing had to be done with care once you got to 75 mph, but it was possible, and there was very little vibration from the engine. Wind protection at these speeds was pretty good for a small bike, and overall, I found the machine’s ergos worked for me pretty well, even the stock seat.

The next few hundred miles

From there, I spent a few days banging around southern Arizona before returning the bike to Las Vegas, and came to like the Benelli very much. I hustled around quite a few backcountry miles along the Mexican border, through towns like Bisbee and Nogales and Arivica, much of it on tight two-lanes with cattle guards at regular intervals. Hit those guards at a good clip and you’d get a bit of a bump through the non-adjustable suspension, but otherwise, the suspension was well-suited to hauling me and my bags along these byways, with just enough squish for comfort.

The motor is well-suited to 50-70 mph back road action, but on the last day of the trip, I had to make up some serious time back along Route 10. I opened the engine up and pounded out hours at an indicated speed near 90 mph (probably closer to low-80s mph) and the bike handled it just fine.

Over hundreds of miles, much of it at extra-legal highway speeds, the TRK502X did not miss a beat. It was cheap on fuel, too, getting 50 mpg or better most of the time. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

The bottom line

I think the reason this bike sells well in Europe is because it offers Italian styling with a chassis that’s good enough for most users and a motor that’s A2-friendly, legal for beginning riders in Europe.

Here in North America, the A2 bracket isn’t a thing, and the Benelli’s main advantage is its pricing. It’s up against some tough competition in the small-to-medium ADV bike market these days, though. Honda just updated its NX500 last year, the Suzuki V-Strom still comes in at low pricing, KTM overhauled its 390 Adventure for 2025. All three of those bikes have had a strong reputation for several years, so the Benelli has its work cut out. Its $6,799 MSPR (plus taxes and fees) will help, as it’s lower than the Honda by $600, lower than the Suzuki by $2,500. The KTM is actually priced lower, depending which version of the 390 you get, but it’s only a single-cylinder bike with a smaller engine and less torque, and the base X model doesn’t come with spoked wheels or luggage rack, and comes with a much smaller gas tank. Plus, KTM’s brand is in turmoil right now, which may turn some riders away.

From my perspective, as long as my off-pavement riding was limited, I could be perfectly happy on the Benelli. It went everywhere I asked it to, and gave me no difficulties except a broken kickstand spring (which happened when it was in the delivery truck, I think). It’s a simple machine, with no TFTs or ride modes or quickshifter or any other high-tech trickery to complicate repairs or operation. To some people, that’s an advantage, especially if it keeps the price down. These days, a basic travel bike is harder and harder to find, and the Benelli appears to fit the bill well.

See more details on the Benelli TRK502X at Keeway’s website here.

The post 1,400 Miles On The Benelli TRK502X appeared first on Adventure Rider.

The basic details

The ZenBivy Ultralight sleep system is made of the same basic parts as the Core system. There’s a quilt (down-filled), a sheet that the quilt fits to, and a mattress that the sheet fits to. They also threw in one of their updated pillows, larger and more comfortable for 2024.

The system’s basic setup is the same as well. You blow up the mattress, fit the sheet to the mattress; two straps keep it in place, and the top contours around the tapered mattress, but because this is an ultralight design, the sheet only covers about half the mattress.

These two parts are the most important. They aren’t cheap, but they’ve been carefully designed for ultra comfort. Photo: ZenBivy

Once the sheet is on the mattress, you clip the quilt to it. Inflate the pillow, slip it into the top of the sheet, hop into bed, you’re good to go!

I’m not going to geek out over all the specs, but if you care about how many ounces it weighs and what materials it uses, see that info here. It’s super-light and super-compact, and I’m not an AT through-hiker, so it’s more than good enough for me.

See the system kinda-sorta shown off in their video below, for an idea of how it all fits together:

What’s new?

There are several improvements to this system, starting with the sheet itself (available in insulated and uninsulated versions). While it looks simple, the design is updated to be more draft-free, and a couple of tabs in the top give you a place to attach your pillow, so it doesn’t slide out of place when you’re asleep. This makes the system a lot more comfortable, at least to me.

The pillow itself comes with a new soft-top system that makes it feel a lot more like your trusty pillow from home—again, more comfort.

Like the Core system, the Ultralight sleep system uses little color-coded tabs to attach the quilt to the sheet, not zippers. These are easily repaired, if something comes apart. It’s a bit more fidgety to put the system together in the dark, but I think that’s a minor complaint. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

The new ultralight mattress has R4.8 insulation, and comes with diagonal honeycomb design that’s supposed to, you guessed it, make it more comfortable.

And the most expensive piece of the system, the quilt (available in 25F and 10F ratings). It’s designed very similar to previous ZenBivy gear, but with improved anti-draft design at the top, that doesn’t add constriction to the sleeper. This keeps it warmer, but you can still kick the sleep system apart at the bottom to cool off, just like previous ZenBivy designs.

How did it work?

None of these changes sound like much, but add up all these incremental changes, and you’ve got a bed that’s easily the most comfortable and versatile sleep system I’ve ever used.

The ZenBivy Ultralight bed system (mattress, sheet, pillow, quilt) easily fit into a 10-liter bag, with room left over. I used this sleep system on camping trips in weather from near-freezing early spring to muggy mid-summer to near-freezing early fall, and the only time I was uncomfortable while sleeping was when I put the bed together incorrectly on the first trip—I ended up a bit cold, because I’d put it together wrong.

Aside from that, whether I was tent camping, hammock camping or in a cold cabin on a fishing trip, it was a fantastic piece of kit. I’ve never had a sleep system that offered such versatility from such a compact package.

I think the standout was the night I took it hammock-camping in late July. Swaying in my Hennessy Explorer beside a remote lake, I had the most comfortable sleep I can remember in a hammock, in more than a decade. The ZenBivy’s ability to fit to your body and keep you warm with the mattress under you, even when you’re folded into a hammock, makes it work better than even the underquilt I used previously.

That diagonal honeycomb design on the ultralight mattress means it doesn’t “lift” at the edges when you put weight in the middle. This mattress gave me a great sleep even on rocky ground. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

I only had one issue: When at a remote fishing camp in the spring, and at Traction eRag’s cabins in the fall, I used the ZenBivy sleep system on top of a standard bed. For whatever reason, this left me with weird pains in my neck. But when I used the ZenBivy sleep system on my Helinox cot, I had no such issues.

The bottom line is this: ZenBivy’s marketing videos are filled with talk about how they tweaked this and that to make the system more comfortable and keep out the drafts. Usually, I’d cynically dismiss this talk, but I am convinced in this case. I expect I’ll be testing other sleep systems in the years to come, but it’ll be very hard to overcome this combo.

But, one final disclaimer: This is a very expensive system. Pricing starts at $409 for the 25-degree quilt and $89 for the ultralight sheet. Add another $199 for the ultralight mattress and $75 for the large soft-topped pillow. That’s a huge chunk of the travel budget for most of us, especially in these days of tight budgets. I will always tell you to prioritize your road expenses before you go for premium gear.

But if you can afford the best, and you want it? Then you should consider this system next time you’re looking for camping comfort.

See ZenBivy’s Ultralight bed here.

The post ZenBivy Ultralight Bed: The Best Sleep System I’ve Ever Had appeared first on Adventure Rider.

The Original Aerostich Roadcrafter One-Piece Suit

When Aerostich’s Roadcrafter one-piece suit was released, it was designed to protect motorcycle-riding commuters who wanted to ride to work in their work clothes. The suit had to fit over their regular attire, be comfortable, easy to get in and out of, and provide the degree of protection necessary for highway use. It was made from a mix of Cordura and Goretex (current ‘Stichs use TLTex), with foam and plastic armor (now there are two different types of armor to choose from) in the shoulders, knees, and elbows. In the so-called high-impact areas like the knees, shins, and shoulders, the thickness of the material increased significantly for additional abrasion resistance.

Stichs In North America

But what set it apart from most other gear out there was the way you could quickly put the suit on or take it off. Once you got the hang of it, it was easy to get into or out of the suit in 30 seconds or less, arriving at your destination in your usual work attire. As a bonus, the interior of the suit is fully lined. Because of this, the suit easily slips on over your street clothes without them binding up on your body and wrinkling the clothes underneath. That meant that you didn’t have to carry a separate set of work clothes and change out of your astronaut-looking gear once you arrived.

Making The Decision

I wanted to ride more, and the thought of commuting to work in business attire was very attractive. After all, I spent lots of time traveling to work, 5-6 days a week. It would give me more riding time than just on weekends and the few short weeks of vacation the company gave me. So why not add a moto component to that not-so-exciting journey? I decided to take the plunge and buy a Roadcrafter suit.

When it arrived, it was clear that it was a heavy piece of kit, heavy in material and somewhat heavy in physical weight. There was a short learning curve learning how to get in and out of it, but soon, it became clear that the claim that you could be in and out of the ‘Stich in less than 30 seconds was valid. Once the newness was out of the way and the suit broken in after a few rides, I was a believer. There would be many more day-to-day tests of the Stich, where I would learn more about the suit’s excellent attributes and little flaws. And because I liked the one-piece ‘Stich so much, I rode with everywhere I went. Commuting, sport touring, adventure riding etc. If I was riding on a motorcycle, I was almost always wearing my ‘Stich.

Wearing the ‘Stich

The more I rode in the ‘Stich, the more I liked it. Its positive traits far outweighed its negative ones. The suit’s utility became one of the biggest positives.

The thing is literally loaded with pockets. There are pockets on the front of your legs, on the sleeve of your left arm, just above your right knee, a small flap-covered pocket on your left chest, and a much larger zippered pocket on the right chest. I found the zippered right chest pocket excellent for holding documents that you need to get to quickly and want to be stored in a secure place. I’ll often put my passport or other “important papers” in there so I can get to them quickly without getting off the bike. Add in the two zippers that give you direct access to your pants pockets, and you have lots of places to put whatever you need to take with you.

There are also different Velcro patches on the suit where you can attach things like a map case (on your left leg), your emergency info (on your left arm), and a strap that secures the ‘Stich’s foldable collar in the closed position. There’s even an optional Velcro “shoulder mount” that you can attach your GoPro camera to. As a result, you won’t find yourself or your accessories flapping in the breeze as you ride along at reasonable or extra-reasonable speeds.

‘Stichs In South America

Hot/Cold Weather Riding

The ‘Stich is packed with zippered vents. There are two oversized vents under each arm and two zipper slider back vents that travel nearly across your entire back. Magnetic clasps allow you to secure the fold-down ultrasuede collar to either keep it open in hot weather or keep it closed when it is cold. It also helps seal out rain.

For hot or cold riding days, the ‘Stich is equipped with zippered vents that let in a reasonable amount of air and, when closed, block out cold drafts. That said, if it’s very hot outside, the thick material of most riding gear (other than open mesh) makes it challenging to stay cool. For temperatures over 85 degrees F (~30 degrees C) or so, if you are not moving, the ‘Stich gets hot, just like other riding gear. But for temperatures lower than that, the ‘Stich stays comfortable.

It also acts as a sound thermal barrier when it’s cold. I recently rode in Morocco in low 40-degree F (~5 degrees C) temperatures and with some thin layering. Other than my hands, I was warm and comfy, while some of my riding counterparts bundled up like Ralphie’s brother in the movie A Christmas Story, and even after that, some said that they were still cold. As we rode around Morocco and were able to put on and take off our ‘Stichs quickly and walk around in street clothes, many in the group wanted to know more about the Roadcrafter and said that they were interested in buying one for themselves.

‘Stichs In Europe

Riding In The Rain

If there’s one elephant in the room that people want to discuss, it’s whether the one-piece Roadcrafter ‘Stich is waterproof. Earlier versions of the classic Roadcrafter did have problems with water leaking through the large main zipper, leaving you with something that became known as “Aerocrotch.” When riding, water tended to pool at the base of your lap, and over time, water could seep in, leaving your crotch wet. I don’t have to tell you that it’s not a pretty sight when you arrive at your destination with the mid-section of your pants wet.

Over the years, Aerostich has tried to solve this problem by experimenting with different zippers, stitching, and sealing. They claim that their third-generation Roadcrafter 3 (R3) is 100 percent waterproof. Unfortunately, after more than an hour of riding in the rain, I occasionally still have a problem with rain seeping in. Part of the problem may be the way that the ‘Stich fits you. Sometimes, the ‘Stich’s material can form a little bowl around your crotch when you are riding. I find that if I ensure that the material is lying flat against my body, I don’t have a problem. As insurance, if I know I am going to be riding in the rain for more than an hour, I wear some cheap rain gear under the Stich, and I don’t have to worry about water, period.

Roadcrafter Variants

Over the years, the original 1-piece Stich has evolved into different models. Today, you can buy a Classic Stich, Roadcrafter 3 Standard, and Roadcrafter 3 Light one-piece suits. Without going into all the details (you can get all the info at Aerostich’s website), the differences are basically abrasion resistance, whether the suit is lined (Roadcrafter Classic) or unlined (R3 Standard and R3 Light), and the suit’s overall weight. The Roadcrafter Classic Stich offers better abrasion resistance due to its heavier fabric, but it wears warmer. The Roadcrafter 3 models are unlined and offer somewhat less abrasion resistance but wear cooler.  All three variants come with your choice of TF 3 or TF 6 impact armor in the shoulders, knees, and elbows. If you want additional spine, hip, and chest protection, it is available at extra cost.

Sizing

Roadcrafter ‘Stichs come in sizes separate sizes for men and women. Men’s sizing runs from 34 to 54 and is available in short, regular, and long. Women’s Roadcrafter 1-piece suits come in sizes 2 to 20 and are also available in short, regular, and long versions. If off-the-shelf doesn’t fit you, Aerostich has several adjustments they can make to make your suit fit your body. You can call them at +1 218-722-1927 (for men), +1 800-222-1994 (for women), or email them at service@aerostich.com, and they will be happy to help you decide which size will work best for you. To help you get started, they also have an online sizing tool where they take your info and suggest the best sizing for you.

Keeping It Personal

All Roadcrafter one-piece suits are made in the USA by craftspeople from the US. You can see that from the very tidy construction of the suit. Each person who has a literal “hand” in building your suit signs their name on a tag inside. In the case of my current R3, Bobbie, Fred, Jordan, and Karen G. used their skills to make my quality piece of riding gear.

Roadcrafter Uber Fan?

As you can probably tell from the tenor of this article, I am indeed an uber-fan of the Roadcrafter one-piece suits. As I said earlier, I have been wearing them for nearly two decades and have no real complaints. I still own my original Roadcrafter, and it still functions well. It’s been on the pavement, dirt, gravel, and sand of four continents and hasn’t missed a beat.

Interestingly, most moto-oriented pictures of my wife Kim and me show us wearing Aerostich Roadcrafters. Other pictures show the ‘Stichs draped across the bikes while we walk around in comfortable street clothing. Nearly everywhere we have gone, we have worn an Aerostich Roadcrafter. So much so that when I recently posted a social media picture of Kim and me at the top of a rainy Tizi n’ Tichka pass in Morroco, ADVrider editor Zac commented, “And representing Aerostich…” because we’re always wearing ‘Stichs. While we don’t represent Aerostich, we certainly like their Roadcrafters.

‘Stichs in Morocco

Other Things

It’s interesting to me that some people will not try or wear a Roadcrafter one-piece suit because they think it’s ugly. Personally, I don’t care what I look like in a ‘Stich. I want to be comfortable, wear street clothes, and have a degree of additional protection. For others, it’s more of a big deal, and that’s fine. But there is something to be said about being utilitarian and not a fashion model.

For example, about a year ago, I attended a manufacturer’s motorcycle launch. As we lined up to ride on the first cold morning, I emerged in my Stich, ready to go. One of the ride leaders knew me and knew that I was from Vermont. Without batting an eyelash, he said to one of the other ride leaders, “You know what I like about guys from Vermont? I like that they don’t give a (expletive) about how they look.” As I looked at many of the other riders with more “fashionable” gear, I quietly smiled to myself. Because you know what, he was right, and I was happy about that.

Full disclosure: My type of adventure riding concentrates more on traveling to unfamiliar places, visiting new countries, and interacting with different cultures than it does riding hardcore hero sections of hugely gnarly terrain at high speed. Nope, I’m not looking to race or severely test my riding skills (been there, done that). I’m looking for new experiences in new places regardless of what form the road in front of me takes. Whether it is paved, hard-packed dirt, gravel, or sand, I’m ready to go.

The post Nearly Twenty Years In ‘Stichs appeared first on Adventure Rider.

Basically, he’s saying motorcyclists today don’t appreciate just how well-made their bikes are, even the budget-friendly models, and how long they can last with proper mechanical attention:

Roughly a week or so ago, I read on a Facebook group guys mentioning their belief that motorcycles are basically done and old when they reach 100 000km, they got to be scrapped.

A few months ago, while doing some maintenance on our DR650’s I had to replace the Warp9 clutch levers. The pivot pinholes had become severely damaged and were in danger of breaking. They were just over 100 000km old. The clutch cables and clutches were still in great shape.

I called and emailed Warp9 and they were shocked they lasted so long. The guy kept on telling me that they have no records of bikes lasting that long. I can’t really expect more. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the original levers anymore and just bought and replaced them with cheap Chinese ones.

I asked the question in a DR650 Facebook group, and the collective experts lost their collective minds and shit completely. Telling me I was expecting miracles, bikes never last that long; it is unrealistic, a joke. They actually got agitated about me even expecting that. And I can be happy I got that much out of the bikes and the levers.

Both times I mentioned, I was under the impression that this belief is old-school considering our modern machines. And by the way, clutch levers should last the life of a bike.

Our own 04 BMW 1200GS is at 160 000km with the same engine, clutch, and brake levers. Our friend Hank’s BMW1100GS is on 965,606km same engine and levers. Many of his customers BMWs sit on well over 200 000km same engines and levers. Our other friend Dan racks up over 120 000km on his BMW each year riding the USA corner to corner. And it is not unique to BMW. Except KTM’s

(I am just kidding)

However, today’s motorcycles are built with advanced materials, precision engineering, efficient lubrication systems, and better cooling technologies, making them far more reliable. Modern bikes also feature electronic fuel injection and sophisticated monitoring systems that optimise performance and longevity.

I honestly think with these advancements, motorcycles today can surpass 100,000 km with ease, provided they are well-maintained.

The air/oil-cooled DR650 is the modern bike that’s closest to the simplistic airheads of old, and it should be able to do the same kind of mileage those machines did, with proper care. Photo: ghiz/Shutterstock.com

If you look at the comments below Michnus’ post, you’ll see mention of other DR650s that have gone well over 100,000 kilometers, and other bikes that have gone much further. Grant Johnson (founder of HUBB) said:

A friends DR650 is over 140,000km and the motor has never been opened, almost everything is original, except for chain and sprockets of course. And most of that is fire roads. It runs perfectly. My R80G/S is north of 160,000 and the levers are like new!

MOST owners today have no concept of maintenance, like lubricating lever and cable pivots. Amazing how long they last with a little oil.

So, again: Are we under-appreciating our motorcycles, not realizing just how long they can last with proper care? I believe this is the case. Another veteran traveler, Mark Powell (whose excellent work appears in ADVrider’s printed journal, just like Michnus’ work) converted me to thinking about a motorcycle as a lifelong investment, not a buy-it-then-bin-it purchase.

Of all the motorcyclist communities around the world, the BMW fans were usually the keenest to view their bikes as life-long machines, that could see the odometer run well into six-figure territory, even if that meant a bit of money spent on wrenching. Photo: James Hime/Shutterstock.com

Powell has had a fleet of BMWs over the years, airheads and oilheads, with the odometers running well over 100,000 miles. His concept of bike ownership isn’t “throw the bike out when maintenance gets expensive.” Instead, he gets the machine fettled back to life when it’s possible. Sam Manicom and other members of the BMW RTW community follow the same idea. But why does this have to just be a BMW idea?

I don’t know of any other rider who has flogged their Suzuki DR650 as hard as Egle Gerulaityte, and Egle has a lot more than 100,000 kilometers on her machine. Yes, she’s had to fix some major problems, like a cracked frame—but those problems were fixed and she is still riding the bike.

The DR650 is a good bike, but it’s very inexpensive and nothing terribly special as far as a Japanese bike goes. I don’t see how a modern Honda 500 shouldn’t do big miles as well, or a Kawasaki KLR650, or a Yamaha MT-07, with proper maintenance. And even if the machine does break down, fix it.

My old Bandit 1200S has 50,000 miles on the odometer (well over 80,000 kilometers, actually) and appears to be ready for a lot more of the same. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

In my own fleet, I have a Suzuki Bandit 1200S with about 50,000 miles on the clocks. Barring a catastrophic engine failure I don’t see how the machine shouldn’t do double that, and if disaster should strike, I can always rebuild it and do another 100,000 miles. My Yamaha Super Tenere has more than twice that mileage, with more than 100,000 miles on the odometer. I had to rebuild the ABS unit this year, and the previous owner did a top end refresh a while back, but the bike runs very, very well. If I keep the oil changes up and don’t ride it into a tree, I think my S10 will last me the rest of my life.

My old Super Tenere appears ready to run for the rest of my life. The only iffy issue on modern bikes is a reliance on electro-components which may not be OEM-available forever. Photo: Sean Doucet

And then there’s my DR650, where this all started with Michnus’ original post. Sadly, I blew my own ’03 DR up; the top end self-destructed on a tour. I believe this was almost certainly my fault, from either botching some maintenance task, or messing around with a hot cam when I should have left the bike stock. Lesson learned! This winter, I have a replacement engine slotted to go into that DR. It’ll be a long project because the rest of the bike needs some deferred maintenance done, but when I finish, I hope to start racking up the miles again. I want to see that machine’s odometer clear the 100,000 mile mark someday too.

The post DR650s, BMWs And Other High-Mileage Bikes: Do We Under-Appreciate Our Motorcycles? appeared first on Adventure Rider.

Photo: Aoocci

Like its predecessor, the C6 Pro came with a variety of mounting options, all based on the RAM Mount system. Initially, I tried the included handlebar mount shown here. It worked just fine, and I had no concerns about it coming loose or falling off, even over rough terrain. However, the plastic parts were not as strong as genuine RAM Mount components, allowing it to vibrate more than I preferred. It wasn’t bad, but since I already had a solution that I knew worked better, I switched out their mounting hardware for my own. No modification was required to use the ball mount on the C6 Pro itself with my own hardware.

Wiring up the C6 Pro was a simple but extensive process due to its features. Unlike the C5’s simple power/ground wiring, the C6 Pro connects to power, ground, and switched power (I used the tail light circuit for this). It boots quickly when you turn the ignition on, faster than the previous model, and gives a five-second countdown before powering down when you turn the ignition off. Beyond that, it was a simple matter of installing the TPMS sensors on my valve stems, figuring out where to mount the front and rear dash cams, and running the wiring. All plugs are color-coded, so it’s hard to mix them up.

Photo: Justin Hughes

Apple CarPlay functionality is simple and works well. Pairing the C6 Pro to my phone was easy, and unlike its predecessor, it has never lost its connection during the months I’ve been using it. The screen is clearer, sharper, and wider than the C5, enabling it to display more icons on the screen at once. Any CarPlay app will work, as well as Android Auto. Since I have an iPhone, I was only able to put CarPlay to the test, but it performed extremely well. My only nitpick, and it’s a small one, is that I wish the screen was more sensitive and responsive to gloves without capacitive fingertips.

Photo: Justin Hughes

After suffering a flat tire this past spring, I was quite interested in the tire pressure sensors that come with the C6 Pro. These simply replace the standard valve caps, and use a retaining lock nut to hold them in place. I was slightly concerned about the additional weight throwing off the wheel balance but noticed no vibrations or other issues. More concerning was how they’d hold up on rough dirt roads, but after many miles in such conditions, they showed no signs of falling off or having any other problems.

Photo: Justin Hughes

Pairing the sensors to the Aoocci C6 Pro is a simple one-time procedure. I’ve noticed their pressure readings differ by a PSI or two from my tire pump and gauge, but it’s certainly good enough to monitor the situation while underway. I set a low pressure alert of 30 PSI, which will display a warning on the screen no matter what mode the C6 Pro is in. Since my lowest recommended tire pressure is 33 PSI on the front, this will give me plenty of warning if I have a leak, and likely enough time to pull over safely before it’s completely flat.

It has also been interesting to monitor my tire temperatures as well as pressures while I ride. Naturally, both increase slightly once underway. I’ve done a lot of two-up riding this year, and even with the extra air in the back tire that Suzuki recommends (41 PSI rather than 36 for solo riding), I noticed much higher rear tire temperatures than in the front. This led me to try increasing the rear tire pressure to 43, which resulted in lower temperatures and a happier tire. Different tires work in different ways, and the Shinko 705s on my V-Strom are different than the original tires the recommended pressures were intended for.

Photo: Justin Hughes

One of the main features of the Aoocci C6 Pro is front and rear dash cams, which can be set to record your journeys continuously or on a loop. This requires the addition of a microSD card to the bottom of the unit. Front and rear video is recorded simultaneously in 1920 x 1080 at 30 fps.

Photo: Aoocci

Current models of the Aoocci C6 Pro come with a wired remote control. This lets you snap photos or videos anytime, anywhere, regardless of the mode the unit itself is in. My review unit came with a wireless remote. It was easy to pair and never gave me any problems, but Aoocci says they changed to a wired remote to solve customer complaints about the wireless remote. Good on them for being proactive about fixing reported problems, even though I didn’t have any.

Photo: Justin Hughes

One of my few criticisms of the C6 Pro is the accessibility of the microSD card and USB-C port hidden underneath this water-resistant panel. The C6 Pro has an IP67 rating, meaning it is dust-resistant and can be immersed in one meter of fresh water for up to 30 minutes. This is excellent for ADV riders. The cost is that you can’t just plug in or pop the memory card in and out on a whim. I had to find my eyeglass repair kit for a screwdriver small enough for these screws, then try hard not to lose them while the panel was off. I imagined that I could make great YouTube videos using footage from the C6 Pro, but not so much with such a process to get videos off the unit. However, it will work great as a regular dash cam, recording your ride continuously with the ability to lock and save clips if you happen to witness or be in a crash. This happens rarely, so retrieving the video is only an occasional inconvenience. Arguably, the IP67 rating this cover enables is far more useful in day-to-day adventure riding. I’d love to see a redesigned cover with easier accessibility and no tiny easy-to-lose screws, however.

Strangely, videos are saved as TS files, more appropriate for DVD and Blu-Ray video, rather than the standard MP4 format. While my laptop could play these files in their native format, I had to convert them to MP4 to throw this quick sample video together so you can see what the footage from these cameras looks like.

While not quite as sharp as a GoPro or a late-model iPhone, the image quality is quite good. It is extremely stable as long as the cameras are mounted to solid bodywork. I mounted my rear camera to the rear license plate bracket, which I later learned has rubber mounts and bounces around a bit on rough surfaces. That’s the only reason why the rear view on dirt is shaky and not a problem with the camera itself. I was particularly impressed with its performance in low-light conditions. The view ahead is excellent as I have bright LED headlights and spotlights, but even the rear view is pretty good in the dark, even when the tail light is the only illumination. The video switches to black-and-white when it gets too dark for color, which is perfectly fine. Wind noise overloaded the built-in microphone at moderate speeds, even behind my windshield, but you get a dash cam for the video more than the audio. I was unable to find a way to switch the telemetry from metric to Imperial units despite doing so in other functions, but Americans should know by now how to use the metric system.

Overall, the Aoocci C6 Pro is a significant improvement over its predecessor. I’m mainly interested in its Apple CarPlay functionality, but the safety of tire pressure warnings, as well as front and rear cameras to document any incidents I may encounter, are great benefits as well. The C6 Pro has many of the same features as the NaviCam CL876, but rather than being a Kickstarter project, it is on sale right now for $219, a much lower price. Even better, Aoocci offers inmates 22 percent off using discount code ADVRIDER, bringing the price down to $170.82 before shipping. I paid slightly less for the C5 CarPlay unit almost two years ago, but the C6 Pro packs more features and better quality. For me, it’s become an integral part of every ride.

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Let me start by saying I am a big proponent of polypropylene base layers. I like them because they are lightweight and comfortable, allow moisture to escape while keeping warmth in, and are easy to wash, like in a hotel room sink or stream bed kind of wash. Often, I can find polypropylene base layers cheaper than other base layer materials. That said, there is a downside: They can have a distinctly unpleasant odor that remains even after washing. If you are riding solo, it’s no big deal. But if you are riding with friends, your cheap base layers could help you become the odoriferous persona non grata of your group. Cheapness does indeed have a price.

So when I received an email asking me if I would like to try some Merino wool base layer clothing and write about the result, I quickly agreed. I didn’t know it at the time, but this clothing would change my decision on what to wear for base layers. Not long after, I received some ARTILECT base layer and outdoor clothing in the form of ARTILECT’s A/SYS-1 Boulder 125 1/4 Zip base layer, Flatiron 185 Legging base layer, and Quandary Peak Hoodie. I had not heard of ARTILECT, so I was interested in trying their clothing and comparing it to polypropylene.

The ARTILECT Boulder 1/4 Zip. Photo: ARTILECT

Merino Wool

All the above garments are made with merino wool. For base layers, the Boulder 1/4 zip’s fabric is a blend of 85% Superfine Nuyarn merino wool and 15% nylon, while the Flatiron legging is comprised of 91% Superfine Nuyarn merino wool and 9% nylon. Why the two blends are different between these two base layers is beyond me, but ARTILECT apparently thinks the blends should be different for upper and lower body parts. As for the Quandary Peak Hoodie, it is made from 78% Merino wool Nuyarn 220g Fleece and 22% nylon. Frankly, all of the clothing’s specs are a mumbo jumbo of words and numbers to me. But the result is that the combinations just plain work. As a matter of fact, they work very well.

November Morocco Testing

When the clothing arrived, I had already planned a two-week ride from Spain through and around Morocco. After crossing the Mediterranean, the route took me from Tangier in northern Morocco into the Atlas Mountains and as far south as Marrakech before returning north. The weather was mostly good, with temperatures in the mid-50s to mid-70s for most of the trip. And through all those times, under my Roadcrafter ‘Stich, I wore the ARTILECT Boulder 1/4 Zip layered under the Quandary Peak Hoodie. The fabric was comfortable against my skin, and my body temperature was always comfortable. I wasn’t ever too cold or too hot. In fact, I wore both garments layered for the entire journey.

The ARTILECT Flatiron Leggings. Photo: ARTILECT

But on the day we were going to ride the Tizi n’Tichka pass, the temperatures were in the low 40s, and there were rain showers. The cold and sometimes rainy weather had everyone except me donning multiple thick layers of clothing, including more and heavier garments like two shirts, along with a heavy sweatshirt under their riding gear. One person even donned another jacket under their riding gear.

Warm And Dry

It was the perfect time to put the ARTILECT gear to the heat retention test. So, under my ‘Stich Roadcrafter one-piece suit, I wore the Flatiron leggings under my jeans and layered the Boulder 1/4 zip under the Quandary Peak Hoodie. Looking at the other people in the group, I figured I might be in for some cold and damp riding. The nice part for me was while the others were all bundled up and squeezed into their gear, the thin and lightweight ARTILECT material still gave me the comfort and freedom of movement that the others in the group didn’t have. When the day’s ride was over, I decided I never felt cold, even when riding in the wet High Atlas Mountains. The only body part that was ever cold was my hands, and that was with the bike’s heated grips on.

No Stink!

If you were really paying attention, you might have noticed that I wore the Boulder 1/4 Zip and  Quandary Peak Hoodie every day while I was in Morocco. You may have also noticed that I didn’t say that I ever washed the ARTILECT base layers during the trip. Wearing the same base layer gear on the bike every day may not have been the cleanest way to travel. It also could have definitely been a very smelly way to travel.  Surprisingly (to me, at least), the gear never took on any body odor despite not having seen a rinse in two weeks. I don’t think I could say that about other polypropylene gear I own.

The ARTILECT Quandary Hoodie. Photo: ARTILECT

Some Nitpicks

As you can tell, I like the ARTILECT gear. But I do have a few nitpicks, which could mean nothing at all or a lot to you. Both the Boulder 1/4 and the Quandary Peak Hoodie are comfortable and easy to wear. The Boulder 1/4 Zip also has thumb holes to keep the sleeves down when used under other garments.

But both the Boulder and Quandary Peak Hoodies have a fabric zipper cover on top of the garment to ensure the zipper’s metal doesn’t touch your skin. While the cover is a nice touch, it also makes the zipper feel more noticeable against your neck.

I also noted that the ARTILECT material is lightweight, which is a significant plus. However, the material is light enough that when you are wearing the Quandary Peak Hoodie and not wearing the attached hoodie over your head, it can blow around your back and neck if it is windy. In those conditions, it’s probably best to wear the hoodie on your head.

Pricing

My only other concern is the product’s pricing. Quality gear costs significant money, and ARTILECT gear falls into that category. The Boulder 1/4 Zip retails for $130, while the Flatiron Legging is priced at $140. The Quandary Peak Hoodie will set you back $230. That’s $500 for three pieces of gear. So you have to ask yourself how much being comfortable, warm/cool, and dry is worth to you.

The Result

Over longer distances, especially in places with limited resources, the ARTILECT gear makes sense. It is replacing much of my polypropylene gear, which has an “aroma” to it. Since ARTILECT’s gear can be worn for several days, I can carry less gear without having to stop to wash things out every day. In the end, ARTILECT’s gear has made me a believer in Merino wool.

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When comparing the advantages and disadvantages of soft luggage vs. hard luggage, one major factor in favor of hard luggage is that it’s mostly quick to attach to the bike, and quick to remove. While I’ve long been a fan of soft bags, they almost always require a bit of faffing around each time you install them. Tighten a strap here, check to make sure there’s no chafing, and to make sure the bags can’t shift and get burned on the exhaust pipe, or work loose in-flight. You know the drill.

Our initial look at the Nelson Rigg plates came at AIMExpo in 2024. This view of the back of the plates shows how webbing threads through the plates to attach saddlebags.  Also note the three mounting clamps; two on the bottom of the plate, one locking clamp on top. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

So, many manufacturers are now offering a compromise—a hard plate backing that you attach your soft saddlebags to, instead of attaching them to the bike. The plates are able to be quick-mounted into place, and quickly removed when you come to accommodations for the night. This is the idea behind the new plates from Nelson Rigg, which we initially told you about here.

A few months later, they shipped me a set to test out on my Super Tenere. Here’s how that worked out.

Installation is easy

The plates are made of laser-cut aluminum, with slots cut into the plates that allow you to run attachment straps through soft luggage. The slots also let you mount quick-release clamps that grab onto your bike’s pannier rack.

Even if you don’t consider yourself a master mechanic, this is an easy installation procedure. Note how the slots allow multiple installation points for the mounting clamps. You can fit these to most *tubular* pannier racks. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Because there are several sets of slots built-in, allowing a lot of adjustability, Nelson Rigg mounting plates are near-universal; they’ll even fit those old Wolfman mini-racks that are much-loved but hard to find these days. My Super Tenere had an old set of old quick-release Givi racks, made of tube steel, and the mounting clamps Nelson Rigg used were a perfect fit.

However, note that Nelson Rigg says the mounting clamp “Fits most tubular pannier racks up to 18.8mm and 19mm – 20mm or 3/4″ racks with optional latch.” My WR250R had a Happy Trails rack with square tubing, and the mounting clamps included will not work with that setup. Before you order, make sure your parts are compatible.

Once you’ve got everything in-hand, it’s easy-peasy, with included written instructions that spell out the steps. Hold the mounting plate against your pannier rack to guestimate where you want the mounting clamps to sit, then install those. Then, use webbing and buckles to attach your panniers to the mounting plate.

You can see Nelson Rigg’s demonstration of the system below:

The plates are designed to work with Nelson Rigg’s own saddlebags, and that’s what I used. But you should be able to use saddlebags from a wide variety of manufacturers, if you are willing to do a bit of jimmy-rigging to make it work.

When the job’s done, you have a set of panniers with hard backing plates. You set the lower mounting clamps in place on your rack, click the top mounting clamp in place, and it’s all secure—even more secure if you add a lock, which is easily done (Nelson Rigg recommends a gun case lock from your local hardware store if you watch the video above). To remove the bag, just unlock the top mounting clamp and lift the bag off.

Instructions were simple and easy to follow. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

It’s all very fuss-free, although you do have to make sure the pannier itself is securely tightened to the mounting plate, with no errant straps flapping in the wind. Aside from that, there’s really little to go wrong with this design, and if a component breaks, it should be easy to replace as long as it’s available.

How did it work out?

Once installed, the system is dead-simple to use, and seems to hold together well through dirt-road riding. I had to take the Super Tenere off the road this summer for an ABS repair, but up to that point, the Nelson Rigg system worked well, handling some pretty tricky riding with aplomb.

Once the saddlebags were mounted to the plates, Nelson Rigg’s excellent cambuckle-equipped Rigg Straps made it easy to secure them in place. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Who is this for?

I don’t think this plate system will survive a crash as well as a soft bag system that’s strapped directly to your bike, as there are components that can bend or break under stress (the pannier rack itself, in particular). However, I do think it’s a better design for off-roading than hard-mounted metal panniers. Dropping a metal box on your leg, with the weight of a bike behind it, is no fun. A soft bag is safer, should you get entangled with your machine in a get-off (been there, done that).

Because the Nelson Rigg plates can be retro-fit to a wide variety of racks, I think this system appeals to a lot of riders who want to take their old ADV or dual sport and turn it into a more-friendly-to-live-with touring bike. However, it does come at a cost. Current Nelson Rigg pricing starts at $329.95, and rises if you add options like a latch extension (for working around exhausts on some bikes). That price is just for the plates and mounts, not including the pannier racks attached to your bike, or the bags to attach to the plates.

However, that pricing includes a lifetime warranty, and since this system is basically universal, you should be able to buy once, cry once, and use this on a wide variety of machines in the years to come, even street tourers.

For more details, check out Nelson Rigg’s website here.

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Sam’s new book follows the same pattern that the first Moment Collectors book took (see RTWpaul’s review of that book here). Once again it’s a collection of stories from Sam’s friends and contacts worldwide, but this time, it zeroes in on adventures on the Asian continent.

Some of the authors’ names are very familiar to North American readers—RTWpaul pens a story here, as does well-known YouTuber Candida Louis, and ADVMoto publisher Carl Parker, and many other names that are probably better-known to the Euro scene. Remember, Sam Manicom travels regularly in the US but is based in the UK and has deep contacts in the scene there. He’s leveraged those contacts well for this book.

The bikes featured in this book are as varied as the authors, from big Beemers to Dakar-style traillies to small made-in-Asia commuter machines. Image: The Moment Collectors

The great thing about having so many friends from so many diverse backgrounds is that it allows you to have a lot of different perspectives. You’ve got older riders, younger riders, people with families, people without families. One rider writes from the perspective of an HIV-positive traveler in the 1990s. Another rider explores her family’s 100-year-old history on the Korean peninsula. There are hardened, veteran RTWers and absolute beginners. They travel the busy streets of India, climb the cold mountains of Pakistan, tackle the Chinese border with iffy documents, blast across the Mongolian plains, and even brave polar sea ice in an effort to explore settlements that can only be reached by frozen ocean roads mid-winter.

This is great stuff. Some stories gripped me more than others, but that’s always the way with any anthology. I think my favorite tale might have been Sherri Jo Wilkins’ story of her ride along the old Road of Bones route with Walter Colebatch. She’d initially emailed Colebatch for some simple advice as a newbie rider, ended up joining a Siberian expedition, and then, to her surprise, ended up facing difficulties she couldn’t even imagine as Colebatch’s sole companion on the trip when everyone else pulled out.

Another good read was Anatoly Chernyavskiy’s story of riding the Siberian sea ice mid-winter. And this raises an interesting point: A lot has changed in our world since the adventures in many of these stories. The Ukraine-Russia conflict means it’s unlikely most of us will be riding the frozen Asian north anytime soon, and I’m glad we have tales of when it was possible. On the other hand, the winding down of the war in Afghanistan means that maybe some areas of that country might be more open than they were when these adventures went down. The world of adventure travel is changing all the time.

Comes in Kindle or Nook e-book or paperback format for now, with the e-versions much cheaper.

Most of the stories in this book challenged me to get out of my comfort zone, and once again push two wheels beyond the familiar, manageable territories close to home. They’re tales of regular people who did tough things, and succeeded. If you’re planning your own ADV trip anywhere, I recommend reading this book because no matter what jam you get into, the examples in this book show that people just like you have pushed through trouble that’s far worse.

The Moment Collectors ASIA is 416 pages long, with a few color photos in the middle and b/w illustrations for each story. You can order signed copies directly from Sam Manicom here, or get softcover or Kindle versions from Amazon here. And I’m wondering just when Sam will have his next Moment Collectors book out—maybe, when the series is done, we can get a box set edition?

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Who’s TekVest?

If you ride snowmobiles or you’re a Canadian off-road rider, you might know the TekVest name already. For everyone else—TekVest is a Canadian-based company that builds protective riding vests for off-road motorcycling and snowmobiling. They’ve been in business since the late 1990s. TekVest is based in Ontario, and I suppose you could consider them roughly analogous to Aerostich. They’re well-known in specific communities, try to do their manufacturing in-country, and rely on simple, robust designs.

They’re probably better-known in the States for their snowmobile gear, but in Canada, enduro riders are familiar with their equipment, and more aggressive ADV bikers have been wearing TekVest designs for years. Head to their website and you’ll also see they sell downhill MTB and e-bike protective equipment too.

I opted to have optional shoulder guards included with my Spokemaster Lite vest. They attach quickly and easily with snaps. Check out those *big*  holes all through the vest’s foam. They flow air very nicely. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

The TekVest Spokemaster Lite

This past summer, I finally got around to taking the long-range travel equipment off my WR250R, removing the oversized tank, windshield and pannier rack, returning it to more off-road configuration. And as I started focusing on the local forestry roads and trails, I realized dirt bike gear would often be a better solution than bulky, sweaty ADV jacket and pants. I’d spoken with TekVest’s reps at the Toronto Motorcycle Show and they’d been interested to see their equipment tested, so I called them up and told them what I was looking for.

I knew I wanted wraparound rib protection, so if I fell on my side, I’d be protected from one of the most common dirt biking injuries (oh, the irony!). I wanted lots of airflow, and I wanted shoulder pads. And I wanted easy zip-front access. They added it all up, and sent out the Spokemaster Lite vest with shoulder pads as an accessory.

Tek-Vest says this is their most versatile vest, and I believe they sent it because I wanted something cool-wearing. Originally designed for downhill mountain biking, this vest has 9 mm holes through the foam armor to flow a lot of air. Important when you’re pedaling up a storm, and important when you’ve got an almost-40-year-old dad bod who’s stuck his WR250R in a mudhole and is sweating up a storm dragging it out.

The side-fit is adjustable, just the thing if you plan to lose a few pounds (or put a few on). The 360-degree protection is welcome in even the smallest off-road scrape. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Looking at the Spokemaster Lite, you might think it looks a bit old-fashioned, belying the “Tek” name. Bulky foam armor is not as slick-looking as the sculpted body-hugging padding that you see on a lot of modern gear, and it’s certainly not as fancy-pants as the latest airbag suits. But TekVest’s armor is a proprietary design, based off Ultra-High Molecular Weight (UHMW) plastic bonded to closed-cell vinyl nitrile foam; this gives you high cut resistance as well as impact resistance and energy absorption. And thanks to the wraparound coverage, you get 360-degree protection to your ribs, spine, collarbone, and the rest of your upper torso, more than a protector with minimalized padding might offer.

In other words: It might not look high-speed-low-drag, but it works. And if you’re going to be going on a trip where recharges for your airbag vest might be few and far between, sometimes it’s beneficial to rely on robust designs like this.

Testing the vest

I wore the Spokemaster Lite for a few weeks before my trip to Utah this summer, but when I was packing for the Royal Enfield Himalayan 450 launch, I didn’t know how much off-roading to expect. I figured it would be mostly street riding, and left the vest home. Too bad, because the combination of street tires and slick mud left my ribs pretty banged-up (although nothing was broken). As I winced my way through a string of airports on my way home, I wondered: Would the TekVest have saved my ribs? From talking to other people who’ve had the same injury (landing on their arm and driving it hard into their ribs) while wearing TekVest gear, I believe it would have.

But I had plenty of riding ahead, and after a few days was able to get back onto the bike. The Spokemaster Lite almost feels like a set of broken-in hockey shoulder pads when you throw it on, and in my beat-up state, I was very grateful that I didn’t have to contort and wiggle my sore ribs to put it on.

I found the Spokemaster Lite made it look like I was wearing a squared-off cardboard box under my riding jersey. If you’re worried about that sort of thing, then maybe you could tighten it down more, or perhaps you’re better-off looking for some fancy-pants Euro-cut gear. Photo: Nick Dunlop

It only took a few days on the bike for the foam armor to break in and adapt to the shape of my body, just like TekVest says. As summer rolled on I was glad they’d sent this free-flowing vest, especially when I went to British Columbia in September. Riding around the trails and training facilities at Traction Erag’s XTADV camp, the high desert heat would have been much more miserable without the mesh-and-perforated-foam construction. But unlike other trimmed-down riding gear that sacrifices safety for comfort, I never felt like TekVest’s design had given up protection. They do have other designs that might offer more protection, but for dual sport riding and dirt biking, this was excellent.

I did end up removing the optional shoulder pads after a few days of riding with a Mosko Moto backpack. I found the pack didn’t always like to sit straight over the pads. Other packs might have been better, and I will experiment next spring to find a better fit, because I do think it’s worthwhile having the shoulder protection. Maybe I’ll just start wearing a waist pack while off-roading instead of a backpack.

Yes, you will still work up a sweat in the woods. You aren’t wearing a refrigeration unit, and you’re still getting a workout. But the airflow is excellent and you cool off quickly when you’re on more open trails. Photo: Nick Dunlop

Energy conservation on the trails is one of the mantras that Traction head honcho Dallas Shannon constantly preaches (see our interview with him here). This is one area where the Spokemaster Lite excels; at only three pounds, the added weight is barely noticeable whether you’re on the bike, off the bike… or picking the bike up. There’s no chafing. It allows plenty of ventilation. It’s easy to live with, all day long, and that is important with any safety gear, or you’ll be tempted to leave it home.

One other important point I really liked: The Spokemaster Lite looks very repairable. Too often, moto gear is designed to be cheaply-made throwaway stuff. TekVest’s equipment relies on simple snaps and big, beefy zippers instead of chintzy closures that fall apart. I believe I could wear this for the rest of my riding career, and indeed, TekVest says some of its customers have been wearing the same protectors for more than 20 years.

The only downside that I found? If you’re the kind of person who’s concerned about aesthetics, the Spokemaster Lite looks a bit bulky if you stuff it under a riding jersey. You’ll end up looking like an out-of-shape defensive lineman for the Hamilton Tiger-Cats.

Dad bod not included with your purchase… But I very much appreciated the Spokemaster Lite’s repairable KISS design, even if it didn’t sculpt my torso to make me look like a buff enduro racer, like some other gear tries to do. Photo: Nick Dunlop

Summary

At $499 MSRP (for US or Canadian customers), the Spokemaster Lite isn’t cheap, but it’s not prohibitively expensive either, and it is a lot cheaper than a trip to the doctor. It’s comfortable, made by hand by people who care about their product, and well-built to last for many years. I can appreciate not everyone has five hundred bucks laying around for new gear, but if you’re in the market for some upper body protection for dual sport or enduro riding, it’s well worth considering. See more details here.

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The HydraDri 7.5 boots are very comfortable

The new HydraDri boots are plenty big enough for my wide size 11 feet, and fit generally true to size. YMMV, as always. I particularly liked two things about the boots: They have a very comfortable mid-sole, something that a lot of boot manufacturers ignore. The reality is, many ADVers spend a lot of time walking around off the bike, and it’s  nice to have a set of boots that are made with this in mind. There’s a mid-sole that offers a lot more cushioning than any other dual sport or ADV boots that I’ve owned.

The boots are comfortable on the bike as well, not just because of that mid-sole but also because I felt they had good breathability. Too often, boots using a non Gore-Tex waterproof liner get disgustingly sweaty, hot and swampy inside when riding mid-summer. I wore these boots for days on end through the muggiest weeks of July, and I did not get the too-hot feeling that’s common with ADV boots.

If you’re the kind of person who likes to keep gear looking spiffy and also wants to ride off-road, maybe opt for the brown boots, as they show less dirt. Photo: Leatt

Leatt’s HydraDri material also seems well-regarded in the world of bicycle gear, so whatever the secret sauce is, it’s working.

Also, Leatt gave these boots’ nubuck leather exterior some sort of waterproofing as well, which doesn’t seem to interfere with the breathability. In the long-term, this may perhaps be less effective, but that is true of any waterproofing treatment.

So the fit and the waterproofing was good, but note this. The ankle of the right boot picked up a sort of crease in the interior protective foam material when I stuffed myself onto an airplane for a fly-and-ride, with my leg bent at a funny angle. It was mildly uncomfortable, but it vanished after a days’ riding. Since then, it’s been all-comfy, all the time.

So far, a few months in, the waterproofing is excellent, and so is the breathability. Photo: Leatt

The protection is standard ADV-level

Officially speaking, the Leatt HydraDri 7.5 boots have CE prEN 13634: 2017 safety certification. In the real world, this makes them great street boots, which is where many ADV riders are spending most of their time, but they don’t offer the same off-road protection as a set of true off-road boots. Leatt does sell those, if you want them. The HydraDri 7.5 boots are more intended for ADV touring, not bashing through tight single-track.

Having said that, if I’m doing the kind of riding that most KLR/DR/GS/T7/Transalp/etc. riders are doing, I would feel fine with these boots, because I tested them the hard way. I had a pretty hard low-side in the mud at the Royal Enfield Himalayan 450 launch in August. I got dragged badly under the bike, mangling my ribs badly and wrenching my wrist as well. However, my foot and lower leg were completely fine. Maybe this was just dumb luck, but I believe the flex-limiting design of the boot probably saved my ankle, and let me finish the rest of the day’s ride.

The tops of the boots stay tight to your legs; they’re considerably more trim-looking than a lot of other ADV boots. Photo: Leatt

The little things

I was impressed that Leatt got the small details right with their jacket and pants lineup, and it’s the same story with the boots. The forged aluminum buckles are high-quality and lock into tough stainless steel bases; they feel like they should last a very long time. The one-way Sidelock hook-and-loop closure at the top of the boots kept the tops nice and tight, without popping loose, a problem I’ve had with more expensive kit. The toes of the boots are carefully shaped to make it easier to use the bike’s controls. Unlike expensive boots I’ve had from other manufacturers, these were very quiet for me when walking around off the bike. They also lacked the sometimes-tasteless styling that other manufacturers often indulge in.

Those buckles seem to be very high quality, and that one-way hook-and-loop closure makes for a seamless closure. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

The treads strike a good balance between movability on the pegs and tread in the dirt. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

Conclusion

There are only two ways to properly test gear: To crash in it, and to wear it over a long period of time. I managed the first, but a summer isn’t long enough for the second. If these boots hold up over another couple of riding seasons, I think I’d rate them on-par with the most expensive ADV riding boots I’ve tested from Europe—which is to say, they’re right there with the best of the best. And here’s even better news: At time of writing, you can find the Leatt boots for ~$360 in the US, about a hundred bucks less than Euro equivalents.

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When the Japanese showed up in force in the 1960s, the British were selling brand-new versions of 30-year-old motorcycles. A 1968 Triumph Bonneville isn’t much different than a 1938 Triumph Speed Twin. Triumph had adopted rear suspension, sure, but the brakes on both were marginal and the lovely-to-look-at but leak-prone and vibratory engines remained. I guess winning a war or two gives a country the (misplaced) view that their position atop the marketplace is unassailable. Ditto for the American motorcycle. A 1948 knucklehead isn’t much different than a 1978 shovelhead—except that the knuckle is considerably more desirable than the shovel. But don’t believe me. Believe the Japanese, who, today, buy knuckleheads and panheads at an alarming rate.

Motorcyclists are romantics. We expose our bodies to the heat and the cold and to swarms of locusts and to drunk/high/distracted/incompetent motorists all because we want to be at one with nature. Or one with an SUV fender. Last week I endured three hours’ worth of monsoon-ish rain on a ride and ended up with a grownup’s version of diaper rash, a malady that took a good bottle of wine—or two—to fully cure. This romanticism explains why men who are satisfied driving ho-hum VW Golfs feel the compulsion to ride old Ducatis. Or why men—who would raise bloody hell at the dealership if the massage feature failed on the seats in their Mercedes—gleefully abuse their spines riding hard-tail choppers along a thousand miles of kill-me-from-boredom interstate highway. We want our motorcycles to be special because we believe we’re special.

The Japanese—this should be self-evident by now—are getting it all wrong. Just look at the brands we covet. Given this site’s predisposition to ADV-style motorcycles, let’s start with KTM. Camshafts made of butter mixed with sawdust haven’t hurt the ready to race brand in the least. Sure, the grumpy grouse about it in the forums but as soon as next year’s revised graphics appear all is forgiven. But there’s more to it. Poor metallurgy reminds us that KTMs are made by humans. The same humans at Aprilia (let’s also toss MV Agusta into the mix) who believe crankshafts—like oil filters or windshield wipers—are consumables. Japanese-style quality is sterile. If Honda or Yamaha dissolved Tang instant drink crystals into liquid metal as it’s about to be poured into the mold for the swingarm, the sugar-buzz failures would only benefit the brand’s mystique.

Great bikes that we can (mostly) afford have done nothing but hurt the Japanese big four. For how to do it the right way, we only need look to Ducati. Ducati has determined they can sell special editions in batches of 500, no matter how ludicrously expensive or ludicrously untethered to reality the motorcycle are. A quick look at the Ducati website lists an alarming number of special editions. First up is the Panigale V2 Superquadro Final Edition. Most products that come to the end of their production run serenely disappear with little fanfare. Typically, a company fires them out to dealers in the hope that deep discounts will clear them off the showroom floor so that the new better/faster/fresher/more expensive model that appears in its wake will garner all the attention. But not Ducati. They demand a premium for a model that’s about to be obsolete. How much of a premium? About $9,000.

But there’s more. Hipster, raspster, gangster clothing brand Supreme collaborated with Ducati on unquestionably the ugliest Ducati ever. The Streetfighter Supreme more than doubles the price of the base $22,000 Streetfighter with what is a supremely ugly sticker kit. I’m not making this up. When the marketing wizards are left to tout the merits of the handgrips and the stickers on the wheels you know the project is divorced from sanity.

Ducati special editions have no end. Another Streetfighter is the $68,000 Lamborghini edition. Again, predominantly a sticker and paint exercise. Then there’s the Ayrton Senna Monster. And the Bentley edition Streetfighter, priced “from $70,000.” If you think I’m making fun of Ducati, you’re wrong. They’re absolutely doing the right thing. They’re leveraging their brand prominence to sell absurdities to foolish rich people drowning in money. Call it a garishness tax. But if it bolsters the brand so that I can buy parts for my very un-special $4,000 900ss, then it’s good for me, too. A Ducati that you can’t get parts for very quickly becomes a lawn ornament.

Ducati just recently won its 100^th MotoGP race. You’d think, by its self-glorifying celebration, that they’d just cured the world of polio. Yamaha has twice as many victories. Honda three times as many wins. But do they make a big deal of it? No. And that’s the problem.

Back to Ayrton Senna, perhaps the most gifted of all Formula One drivers. He also rode motorcycles, and can be seen in an old photograph polishing his Ducati 851. But the engines that powered the cars that made Senna revered were made by Honda. If anyone has a right to flaunt Senna’s legacy it’s Honda, not Ducati. I’m aware that to Honda the idea of making a limited-edition model celebrating a dead driver could be construed as tasteless. (If, indeed, they feel this way they have a valid point.) But the marketplace for vehicles is tasteless. Just look at the supremely hideous Ducati Streetfighter. Business is business. The Japanese need to get over themselves and hire an Italian or an American to wave the flag. And they need to do it soon.

If one motorcycle model personifies the Japanese problem it’s Honda’s Fury. It’s the perfect chopper. It’s hard to believe it’s a production motorcycle. It’s clean, uncluttered, and the lines are perfect. If the Fury came from Indian or Harley-Davidson brand fans and the chopper mags would be doing backflips. Next to Indian’s Scout or Harley’s Sportster the Fury is the far superior machine. I’ve ridden one. And it’s comfortable in a way that a chopper shouldn’t be. It’s the greatest mass-produced custom motorcycle in the history of the sport, and yet it’s ridiculed more than a Miata—solely because it’s from a Japanese brand.

This is where Honda is in dire need of help. Why not the Fury Mar-a-Lago edition that comes with a (forged) document of authenticity? Or a Lance Armstrong iteration that comes with a hidden storage area to conceal performance-enhancing substances? Evolve or die, the mantra says—it’s time the Japanese get with the program.

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Arai’s helmet protection philosophy is based upon the theory of “glancing off.” What they mean by that is that their helmets have a rounder, smoother shape that allows the helmet to “glance off” the surface it comes into contact with, reducing the energy transmitted to the rider’s head. As a result, they forego other protection schemes that some helmet manufacturers have adopted, including “sliding” inner liners (such as MIPS), mini shock absorbers in the helmet’s liner, and “smart” helmets that can call for help. Whether all or any of these “new” technologies substantially increase safety is a subject of hot debate.

This is the helmet Arai sent in Discovery Blue. The fit and finish is excellent. Photo: Arai

So, let’s examine Arai’s XD5 and discover what’s new, different, and unchanged.

Revisions

Arai has made several changes to the XD, some of which I really like and others not so much. We’ll get into the “yays” and “nays” shortly, but for now, here’s a list of XD5 changes:

• There are now four different shell sizes depending on the size of the helmet chosen. The shell is an all-new design and uses PB CLC construction (peripheral belted complex laminate construction). The XD5 is wider side to side and shorter front to back than the XD4 it replaces and is designed for the common North American intermediate oval head shape.
• The face shield can now be removed without the use of any tools or a coin. To remove the face shield, you push a lever and pop off the side plate. It’s a similar process to re-insert the visor.
• The helmet peak has also been extensively redesigned to make it smaller front to back, reduce buffeting, and allow air to flow more smoothly. It is still removable with the use of a screwdriver or coin.
• The chin intake vent has been redesigned and is twice as large as the previous version. It can also now be set to be partially open, versus the XD4’s all-open or completely shut. You can also adjust the direction of the airflow into the helmet with a shutter on the inside of the helmet. The new chin vent cover is also removable, so the internal and external vent areas can be washed, which is very nice if you often ride in dusty conditions.
• Arai has redesigned the XD5’s face shield. It has a single detent position that keeps it open halfway at speed. At lower speeds, you can adjust the visor position and have it stay in place. However, with the redesign, the visor’s smooth surface has disappeared. It has been changed and now has a “stepped” area around the face shield’s perimeter. It can cause some distortion; more on that later. The eyebrow vents have also been removed.
• A new rear spoiler is supposed to reduce turbulence around the helmet and provide a better exhaust.
• Interior components like cheek pads, helmet liner, and neck roll are readily removable and washable.
• Larger speaker pockets accommodate larger and thicker speakers without removing the helmet cheek pad covers. There is now a dedicated area for them, and they allow the speakers to be placed more comfortably further away from your ears.
• The new XD5 design offers more internal headroom. This allows air to flow better inside the helmet. In addition, the inner liner can now be adjusted for a more personalized fit. Cheek pads can also be slimmed down by up to 5mm by removing the pre-scored cheek pad material.
• There are now 3 intake vents: one at the chin, one under the Arai logo, and one at the crown of the helmet. All but the vent under the Arai logo can be set to full, partially open, and closed. The vent under the logo is either open or closed.
• Four exhaust vents help keep the air cooler and moving. The rear exhaust ports have a new single spoiler replacing the two small separate switches and covers. Now, a single slide switch allows for open, partially open, and closed settings.
• The XD5’s standard face shield is now Pinlock ready. Arai provides one in the box with the XD5. Previously, if you wanted either one, it was at an additional cost.
• Larger speaker pockets accommodate larger and thicker speakers. There is now a dedicated area for them.
• Aria’s Hyper-Ridge has been revised to provide a flatter surface for easier mounting of communication devices.
• A new pocket has been incorporated into the neck roll for easier routing of communication device wiring.

Size and fit

Perhaps the most important factor in determining whether a particular helmet brand is for you is how it fits your head. A snug, comfortable fit is the key to ensuring there’s a lid on your head when you ride. If it isn’t comfortable, you won’t be wearing it. So make sure that the helmet fits your head with a snug, comfortable fit. In my case, the XD5 does both. It’s comfortable and snug.

The TLDNR: I’ve owned Arai’s XD3 and XD4 helmets in the past. But overall, the DOT and Snell  2020-approved XD5 is much more comfortable than its predecessors. However, there’s one exception. With its shorter front-to-back measurement, the helmet’s breath deflector is very close to my face. Sometimes, it would touch the bridge of my nose. As a result, I removed it, and the issue has been solved. Just be aware that the shorter front-to-back measurement will bring the helmet’s chin guard, and breath guard closer to your face.

Arai’s XD5 comes in many different colorways with solids being the least expensive. Photo: Arai

Aero qualities

The XD5’s shape change has also affected its aero qualities. While Arai has shortened the helmet front to back, it has also made it wider from side to side. Arai says the change was made to make the helmet easier to put on and take off. However, I didn’t feel much difference.

Unfortunately, the changes in helmet shell shape have resulted in more wind pressure on the helmet’s front and some additional turbulence, making my head move more from side to side. It’s not terrible by any means, but realistically, I found the XD4 to be more stable at speed than the XD5.

That said, the peak now is much smaller and sits higher than before. It has a much larger gap between the helmet’s surface and the back side of the visor. The redesigned peak also seems less prone to catching air during head checks to the sides and rear. So, from my perspective, the redesigned peak is a good improvement, while the new, more rounded, and larger helmet shape is less so due to the increased turbulence.

While the XD5’s new single rear spoiler is supposed to reduce turbulence, I didn’t find much difference with it compared to the other XDs. But its new single lever makes opening and closing the vent faster and easier. You don’t have to check two separate levers at the back of the helmet as in previous generations. You just check the large switch’s position for open, intermediate open, and closed settings with a glance.

While the XD5’s shell dimensions have changed, its weight is pretty consistent. The new XD5, in size medium, weighed 3 pounds 15 ounces, while the XD4 weighed 4 pounds. As you might expect, larger shells will weigh more since more material will be necessary.

Face Shield

The XD5’s face shield and its retention system have been revised. The changes bring some good and some not-so-good attributes. The best thing about the new shield is that it can be removed without using a tool (or coin). To remove the shield, you raise it to the full-up position and push a lever at the base of the visor and side plate. This allows the side plate to pop off, giving you direct access to the face shield. Reinstallation is basically the same, except in reverse.

Next, with the XD5’s face shield raised to its highest position, it now sits higher and out of your field of vision. With the XD4, the face shield was always at the top of my vision and was somewhat bothersome until I got used to it. With the XD5, this issue has been entirely resolved.

The face shield itself has also been redesigned. The eyebrow vents have been removed and replaced by a front vent placed under the Arai logo. The shield is no longer a smooth, flat piece of acrylic. It now features a “stepped” design that provides a better seal between the helmet and face shield. That’s good news, but on the flip side, when the visor is in its intermediate open position, it does distort your view somewhat.

For those of us who like to ride with goggles, Arai says that most goggles will fit into the helmet with the visor fully raised. My cheap goggles did indeed fit, but if you wear “large” goggles, be aware it might be a tight or even non-fit.

Inside the XD5

Once on, the helmet feels much more “airy.” There is more open interior volume, which makes it feel much less like having your head stuffed inside a mold. It just feels more open and comfortable. Part of the newfound space can be attributable to the much larger and deeper speaker pockets. As a result, your helmet speakers can be placed further from the ear for more comfort. With the XD4, I was consistently unfolding my ears after putting the helmet on. I am currently using the Cardo Packtalk Pro (review coming soon) with their larger 48mm speakers, and I no longer have this problem.

With all of the XD5’s vents open, it did seem that there was better airflow than in the XD4. I wasn’t able to ride in super hot weather to see if they provided more cooling, but it did seem that more air was moving inside the helmet. With the additional airflow inside the helmet and the more open interior space, the XD5 seems to be a bit louder than the XD4, and there’s some tradeoff to be made. More air and space inside the helmet means there’s more opportunity for sound to bounce around the inside of the helmet. However, with the increased sound, I felt that I could hear outside traffic sounds somewhat better than with the XD4. That’s a tradeoff decision that you will have to make.

Pricing

Aria helmets have never been inexpensive, nor have they ever exchanged quality for price. Pricing starts at about $840 for certain solid colors and rises to nearly $980 for helmets in bike-specific colorways. Any way you cut it, Arai helmets are pricey but consistent with “premium” helmet pricing. That said, Arai now offers a few no-additional-cost “upgrades” with each helmet, with each XD5 coming with a Pinlock-ready clear face shield, a Pinlock anti-fog insert, and a dark face shield.

Summary

For me, there are several gains and a few misses when comparing the XD5 to previous generations of the XD series. The XD5 is the most comfortable of them all and also flows more air than previous generations. It’s easier to install and remove the face shield without tools, and the revised peak catches less wind at speed.

Unlike previous generations of XDs, when the face shield is fully raised, it is now out of your field of view, giving you a nice clean sight plane. The new venting system seems to flow more air than previous iterations, and there is now more ability to adjust the airflow inside the helmet.  For those of us who ride with helmet communications systems or speakers in our helmets, the larger speaker openings and neck roll wiring space are a welcome addition. The higher sitting face shield also permits easier use of most goggles without having to remove the face shield itself.

On the “miss” side of the new XD5 equation, the new helmet shape seems to generate more turbulence at speed. Its additional airflow lets more outside noise inside. This can be a good or bad thing depending on your desire to hear the outside world while riding. The shortened front-to-back measurement also means the chin guard and breath guard are closer to your face. If you have a good-sized “snozz,” you may want to consider removing the breath guard.

Note: Arai provided the helmet reviewed here free of charge.

The post Arai XD5 ADV Helmet appeared first on Adventure Rider.

Now, after four months of use in all weather, and on a range of different bikes, I must say that I’m just as impressed with this smaller-sized bag as I was with the full-sized version.

I typically used two ROK straps plus a BMW strap to secure the Duffalo, but that might have been overly cautious. Photo: Zac Kurylyk

First, it has the same rugged construction, with an outer layer of what Turkana calls Rhinocote fabric. This is a ripstop synthetic material that appears to be fairly weatherproof on its own, but internally, there’s a waterproof liner bag that is removable. The Turkana Duffalo uses rolltop closure, and a Velcro-like material around the mouth of the bag attaches the waterproof liner, so it’s easily removable for repairs. It also lets you easily store something soggy and nasty (a wet tent rainfly?) between the two layers of the bag, keeping your socks and underwear nice and dry. I don’t think this was the original intention of this design, though.

Like the 40-liter version, the Turkana Duffalo 25L has no internal dividers and no external pockets, but a generous slathering of MOLLE panels lets you attach other accessories easily. In my case, I did run the bag with Turkana’s BushBaby utility pouches if I needed extra storage for tools, etc.; attaching/removing these accessories was easy.

Turkana’s stuff does go on sale from time to time, so you can get a better deal if you keep an eye out. Remember that this is made in South Africa and designed by ADV riders like us, made to hold up to the rigors of travel, not just grab a quick buck. It’s much preferable to the el-cheapo stuff you see on Wish or Temu or those other sites selling dodgy knock-off adventure riding merch. Photo: Turkana

Just like the larger Duffalo, the smaller 25L is easy to securely strap down to a rack thanks to those MOLLE panels. They allow you to securely run a ROK strap through the daisy-chain webbing and around a rack (BMW straps or similar also work). You could also use the MOLLE webbing to attach the Duffalo to a soft pannier base that’s designed with this in mind.

After thousands of miles all over the northeastern US and Atlantic Canada, some of it on gravel or tight, grown-in two-track, the Duffalo 25L has no sign of wear at all. I also used this duffel as a catch-all for overnight camping and fishing trips into the woods, so it saw lots of use this summer. There were no failures; nothing broke or leaked. I found the smaller size was very convenient for a fly-and-ride I did in July, as it fit into an airplane’s carry-on compartment nicely.

With all that in mind, I think you’re getting a lot of bag here for the $140 MSRP in the US (Canadian pricing seems to be about $200). The only thing I think that could improve this KISS bag is a shoulder strap, and you can add one of your own easily enough, if you want. I’d certainly spend my own money on this gear, if I was on the market, and since I’m a pretty thrifty guy, that’s about the best endorsement I can give it.

Find more details and colors at TurkanaGear.com.

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I don’t recall spotting many Tuaregs, though, not in 2021, and not recently; so when I went to rent one a couple of months ago for a week-long adventure stint in Southern Spain, I’ll confess I expected very little from it. I sort of thought it’d be a lot like the T7 – top-heavy, somewhat boring, and with a reluctant attitude (that’s my personal take on a stock Tenere 700; however, I only had a chance to test-ride it for a day, so there’s that).

But the Tuareg 660 was none of those things – and, frankly, it blew my mind.

Here’s why:

Stock Aprilia Tuareg 660

First off, it often feels like most, if not all, stock bikes are a little… lumpy, for lack of a better word. It’s either the suspension or the balance or the center of weight, so when I rolled out onto the backroads of Andalusia aboard the Tuareg, I had very few expectations. And yet, it instantly felt right: the weight was so low that the bike essentially could stay upright of its own accord, but, at the same time, it leaned into corners with gusto. It was incredibly steady and stable in traffic and on the main roads, but the second we hit the narrow mountain twisties, it’s as if the Tuareg was saying, “alrighty, let’s goooo!”.

And it did – effortlessly, but with a bit of a forgiving attitude, which I always appreciate. Some bikes are so sharp they’ll immediately teach you a lesson in humility if you’re even the tiniest bit clumsy; others, like my DR650 famous for its “tractor factor”, will be so steady it’ll lack that oomph. The Tuareg, to me, felt like it had the perfect balance between the two.

And, most amazingly, this was a completely standard, stock model. Not a single thing had been modified, but the bike felt great in all the right places – the throttle response, the corners, the braking, and the agility while remaining incredibly stable and forgiving.

Gravel Travel

While I had road tires and wasn’t allowed to hit any proper trails on the rental, I did have a chance to ride the Tuareg on a few gravel tracks. I’d switched the Urban mode into Off-Road, expecting nothing more than the ABS being disabled, but here, too, I was pleasantly surprised – the throttle felt sharper, the bike seemed to bite happily into the loose gravel, and I felt a lot more sure-footed and relaxed on it than I had on the T7. The Tuareg floated along the trail in an easy cruise, and the low weight, again, made all the difference.

The Schoolmaster Bike

As the week progressed, so did my newfound fascination with the Tuareg 660. It felt like it was equally happy with everything – paved twisties, steep gravel switchbacks, narrow, potholed backroads, light off-road trails, city traffic, Spanish cobblestone streets, and fast-flowing mountain roads.

In the horse-riding world, there’s a term “schoolmaster horse”: it’s typically a mature, well-mannered horse experienced in a variety of riding disciplines, steady and consistent; these horses are kind and sort of bomb-proof – they will gently respond to the right cues, correct the wrong ones, and won’t freak out or bolt if the rider is too green.

That, to me, was what the Tuareg felt like – steady, consistent, forgiving, comfortable, and well-balanced, but happy to go at it if you twist the throttle, whether on tarmac or gravel.

Now, that was just a week in Southern Spain, and I’m not a professional bike tester by any means; however, the Tuareg 660 seems to be doing just fine on long-distance trips, and while finding parts for Aprilia may be a tad more difficult than other makes, it seems to me that this is a fantastic schoolmaster motorcycle for ADV trips – and, yes, I would totally get one if I was in the market for a new adventure bike.

Quick Specs:

Price:   $11,999-$12,599

Engine Type:   4-stroke twin cylinder

Displacement: 659cc

Horsepower: 80 hp at 9250 rpm

Transmission: 6-speed w/optional Aprilia Quick Shift (AQS)

Final Drive: Chain, 15/42T

Electronics: APRC Suite: ATC (traction control), AEB (engine brake), AEM (engine maps), ACC (cruise control), 4 Riding modes (Urban, Explore, Off-Road, Individual)

Chassis: Single unit steel frame

Front Suspension: 43mm Kayaba, fully adjustable

Rear Suspension: Single Kayaba shock, linkage, aluminum swingarm, fully adjustable

Wheels: Spoked; aluminum drop center

Front Tire: 90/90-21 in., tubeless

Rear Tire: 150/70R-18 in., tubeless

Wheelbase: 60.04 in.

Seat Height: 33.85 in.

Weight (Wet, full fuel tank): 450 lbs.

Fuel Capacity: 4.75 gal.

What’s your take on the Aprilia Tuareg 660? Team T7 or Team Tuareg? Share in the comments below!

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The basic details

The Multitour 7.5 jacket and pants follow the usual pattern: An outer shell that’s made to protect you from road rash, with armor inserted into pockets at shoulder, back and elbow. The shell itself is made of a ripstop fabric, with Superfabric reinforcment in the areas that are most likely to be impacted in a crash. The outer shell isn’t waterproof.

Waterproofing instead comes from a HydraDri Max liner, which can be removed for airflow, or worn as a standalone rain shell. Styling is better than most of the removable rain liners that you see out there; no, you don’t look like a suave outdoors model, but it’s not bad at all.

I never needed the thermal liner in my spring-summer travels, but you might want to, if you don’t have a heated vest. Photo: Leatt

Then, there’s a quilted thermal liner. I almost never wear these, but they’re nice to have if you don’t run a heated vest. They really do help keep cold at bay, but once you get off the bike, they’re bulky and you heat up quickly as you move around.

Speaking of heating up: The jacket does have two mesh panels on the front that can be zipped open to get a breeze flowing through. There is a similar panel in the back, as you can see in the title image, where it’s unzipped fully.

The pants have the same three-layer design as the jacket.

The armor

The jacket comes with EN1621-2 Level 2 pads in back, shoulder and elbow. Unlike most ADV jackets, the Multitour also comes with chest armor, with EN1621-3 Level 2 pads in the front. The armor used is 3DF energy-absorbing impact foam, built in a sort of honeycombed design that allows it to spring back and resist multiple impacts instead of a one-and-done, cracked-and-broken design. The armor also molds itself to your body better, rather than the more rigid stuff that was common in the past.

Leatt used the same stuff to protect your hips and knees. Hip protectors are fairly common amongst ADV gearmakers, but they certainly aren’t universal, so it’s nice to see them include these in the purchase price—and using good ones, too, not the cut-rate foam that you see sometimes.

Enough talk—was it any good?

I wore the Multitour 7.5 over thousands of miles through Flugistan this spring and summer, tackling all the weather you’re likely to encounter in the northeast at that time. It was mostly muggy and hot, with the odd soggy, foggy day thrown in. At the end of it all, I can say that I think this is really good stuff. Not perfect gear, but impressive, especially considering it’s really the start of a new line for Leatt.

As soon as I pulled on the jacket and pants, I liked the Multitour kit for two reasons: The jacket and pants fit very well, and the pants were made to stay on.

Not shown: Removable suspenders that help keep everything in place, and comfortable.

Too many ADV pants are made with unreliable snaps or other chintzy closure systems; the Multitours come with a buckle system that you do see on some competitors’ gear, but it’s far from universal. The buckle is adjustable, so a steakhouse dinner doesn’t mean a gear blowout. It’s much more secure than the closure you see on a lot of other ADV pants, which have very little holding them closed around your hips in a crash.

I hope this adjustable, tough pants buckle becomes the industry standard soon.

The Multitour pants also come with removable suspenders. I realize that many riders may not like the Red Green look, but I’ve been married for 16 years, and I’m at the point where I value function a lot more than style now. Suspenders will also help keep your pants up in a crash, and they’re something I want.

Note the thigh vents; I think these could be redesigned for more airflow. The pockets on the pants were OK, nothing special, but I appreciated the grippy panels on the inside of the legs and the Superfabric on the knees. It would be stupid to have expensive dual sport pants that were write-offs because of a low-speed off, but it can happen if the knees aren’t reinforced well. These pants won’t suffer that fate!

As for the fit: As soon as I put this gear on, it felt broken-in. This is a rare thing with textile gear, or leather moto gear for that matter. Engineering flex and give into the right places, knowing the right areas for a gusset—this is the sort of expertise that a lot of companies don’t get right, even if they’ve been around for a long time. I don’t know who designed this gear for Leatt, but it was super-comfortable right out of the box. There were no tags, no Velcro sticking into me; I felt at home in it immediately.

YMMV of course, but for me, that’s a huge plus in itself. I had no major crashes in this gear, only the sort of slow-speed get-offs that come with dual sport riding, so I can’t say how protective it is in a serious accident. However, if your gear fits well, you’re more likely to be wearing it in the first place, so proper fit can itself be considered a safety feature.

I was a massive fan of the adjustability at the bottom of the pants’ legs. You can get these closed *very* tightly, which is a huge advantage when you’re riding off-pavement. Or even when you’re on-pavement; I’ve almost come to grief from baggy pants catching a footpeg, when I threw a leg over my DR650. That won’t happen here.

What I didn’t like

No gear is perfect, and the internal rain liner design is, in general, something I’ve complained about in the past. I’m not picking on Leatt here—all the OEMs have gear like this, and I realize that it’s an attempt at a compromise, to make equipment that’s comfortable on hot days where you can open the vents. It’s also probably better long-term waterproofing than a  integrated membrane, which can’t be replaced when it delaminates.

Dual sport features you want: Mesh panels for airflow, a clamp to hold a hydration bladder hose in place, and retention clips for a neck brace. Lots of adjustable straps, for fit. Oh, and decent-sized pockets. Good job on getting these details right, Leatt, although a bit more airflow would have been nice. That’s true of just about every jacket in this class, though.

However, I felt that Leatt could have improved the jacket’s airflow—it was good, but it could have been better. The chest pads somewhat restrict the airflow up front on the jacket, and I felt the pants could have flowed more air too.

Note that Leatt does have the Flowtour gear that has much more mesh built-in, if you really wanted that airflow. If you want to wear this gear a lot in the summer, and you’re OK with the trade-off in safety, you could consider that.

The final word

Ultimately, it’s very hard to make all-season moto gear that’s comfortable for an 8- or 9-month range of weather changes. I think Leatt nailed most of the aspects of this gear, and the hot-weather performance is as good as any other jacket in this style. You can find moto gear cheaper than the Multitour 7.5 jacket (about $650) and pants (about $450), but as far as I’m concerned, the features and fit are better than stuff than costs a lot more. I’m impressed with Leatt’s foray into high-end ADV gear, and am eager to see what they come up with next.

The post Leatt Multitour 7.5 Jacket/Pants: Excellent Out-Of-The-Box appeared first on Adventure Rider.

In the early 2000s, Bombardier spun off Bombardier Recreation Products, better known today as BRP, as it shifted focus to aviation. BRP then revived the Can-Am name, but on ATVs, UTVs and eventually the Spyder three-wheeled street machines. Now, motorcycles have rejoined the Can-Am mix – and more may be coming. However, there is a very key and controversial difference between the bikes of old and the new machines just introduced. The new bikes, a street machine called Pulse and an adventure-oriented model called Origin, are both based on an all-electric platform.

For a first ride impression, I recently traveled to the small town of Valcourt, Quebec, near Montreal, where BRP designed the bikes and builds the batteries for the new Can-Am models. Final assembly for the bikes takes place in Mexico. The base Pulse will retail for $13,999 USD while the more ADV-oriented Origin will start at $14,499 USD. Trim options and accessories will push those numbers higher of course.

Tech Overview: Innovation – and Cross-Pollination

Image: Can-Am

Both models are based on a common architecture BRP calls the PowerUnit Core, which is comprised of an 8.9 kWh battery pack, a melon-sized Rotax electric motor and a novel enclosed chain driveline that also forms a single-sided swingarm for the rear wheel. The DC to AC voltage inverter, motor controller tech and a 6.6 kW charger—all separate modules—are neatly bolted to the battery pack, which is painted yellow in a nod to Can-Am’s classic color scheme.

The PowerUnit Core powertrain (below) is not a clean-sheet design by BRP/Can-Am for the new bikes. The system is sourced from BRP’s now extensive and expanding line of electric Ski-Doo snowmobiles, which the company has been selling for several years. The system has been tweaked for motorcycle duty, but on balance, this is a drivetrain that has tens of tens of thousands of hours of use and years of refinement while operating under extremely harsh winter conditions. It’s proven.

Photo: William Roberson

The 47-horsepower electric motor makes 53 pound feet of torque and is built by BRP subsidiary Rotax, and is located very near the swingarm pivot. It is also partially integrated into the unique single-sided rear swingarm that houses a chain final drive. A single reduction gear acts as a torque multiplier and to be clear, there is no gearbox or clutch, a template common on most electric motorbikes (and snow machines). There are four ride modes on the Pulse including Eco, Normal, Rain and Sport. The Origin adds two more: Off Road and Off Road Plus (table below).

Image by Can-Am

Both the battery and motor are liquid cooled, and two small radiators ride up high on the chassis/battery casing. The PowerUnit Core forms the backbone of both bikes, with the steering head, rear swingarm and rear subframe bolted to the stressed-member battery case. Can-Am claims range of 71 miles from a full charge in mixed riding, and over 100 miles of range in city riding, which the bikes are clearly designed for. That said, both were able to easily top 90 mph in my time aboard, and exhibited acceleration on par with many modern 400 to 600cc class single and twin-cylinder gas-powered bikes. The Pulse model weighs in at just under 400 pounds while the longer suspension and some other bits push the Origin’s weight to 412 pounds.

The rear swingarm (below) is an unusual design, and not just because it is single-sided, which makes servicing the rear wheel an easier task, especially in the wild. As noted, the motor’s output shaft is located within the arm itself, and it drives an enclosed chain, not a belt.

Can-Am designers told me that they decided to go with an enclosed chain since a belt drive, common on Zero’s electric models and many other electric bikes, is more prone to failure if debris gets into the belt run and pulleys, which can lead to belt failure since belt drives require zero slack to operate correctly. The chain rides in an oil bath and an idler wheel keeps it taut and essentially silent in operation. Because it is sealed from contamination, maintenance requirements are very minimal, according to Can-Am.

Photo by William Roberson

One tech trick on both bikes that is unique is variable regenerative braking. While Zero and other electric bike makers typically include different settings for levels of “regen” for harvesting kinetic energy while braking, Can-Am has added a literal twist to the tech, called “active regen,” that allows riders to vary the level of regen in the moment by rolling the throttle forward while slowing. This effectively works as a second braking system, and as an electric car owner that uses the EV “one pedal driving” technique as a matter of course, this feature was instantly familiar to me.

However, Can-Am needs to finesse this feature by adding a few more degrees of forward rotation for smoother operation. It works as is, but requires a too-delicate touch for truly smooth operation. Of course, the regular disc brake systems with ABS work as normal, and riders also have the option to use two pre-set “passive” regen modes – or just shut regen off altogether and use the disc brakes as normal. As noted, I began using the “active” system immediately. Going forward, this kind of throttle-controlled active regen mode will prove popular on electric bikes of any brand, mark my words.

The primary differences between the two models includes the street-oriented wheel sizes and suspension on the Pulse, versus the 18/21-inch combo on the Origin, along with a more rally-style aesthetic on the Origin. The Origin sports taller, off-road capable KYB suspension with 10 inches of travel front and rear. The rear monoshock is adjustable, but the front forks are not. A single J. Juan brake rotor with ABS slows each wheel. The Pulse features cast wheels while the Origin gets spoked units that can accept tubeless tires. As stock, both bikes are single seaters, with a small cowling where a pillion would sit. There are no passenger pegs as stock.

Photo by Can-Am

From the seat, riders are greeted by a sprawling 10.25-inch wide cinema-format touchscreen display (above). It can project Apple CarPlay (below), including GPS routing, just like a car or truck’s display, with bike info like speed and charge level tucked to one side. In normal operation, the display shows speed and battery charge on two large clocks (above), and it is configurable to some degree as well.

Image by Can-Am

Touch screen operation is mostly curtailed for safety reasons while riding, but riders can toggle through screen options and metrics using buttons on a somewhat crowded left handlebar pod (below). If the rider is using a helmet with comms, volume, music track and speech recognition triggers are located on the bar pod. Can-Am plans to offer a helmet model with integrated comms, called Vibe, and an add-on module.

Photo by William Roberson

The bikes will also update software and firmware over the air using a wifi connection and an app. Another innovation is the Can-Am “LinQ” system for adding accessories, such as the rally screen seen on the Origin in some of these photos. LinQ essentially makes adding some accessories a snap-in (or on and off) affair, no tools required. It reminded me of assembling children’s toys, but felt secure and solid in action.

Ride Time

The Pulse (foreground) and the Origin with accessory rally screen. Photo by Can-Am

I started out on the more street-oriented Pulse (above, right), and put it in Eco mode as we made our way through Valcourt’s small city center. Eco mode is perfect for in-town riding, with soft acceleration and a lowered top speed. Once out on the small highways outside of town, I bumped output to Normal mode, which goosed acceleration, and eventually Sport mode for maximum thrust. Quick verdict on the Pulse? A lively, quick and good-handling naked bike perfect for city commuters and suburban explorations, just keep tabs on the battery level and plug it into a wall for a four-hour charge to 80 percent or a one hour charge on a Level 2 charger. Both bikes have a sleek, futuristic style to them that is easy on the eyes.

Photo: Can-Am

Transferring to the ADV-oriented Origin, seat height jumps from 31 inches to 34 inches, tall for most bikes but on par for many dual-sport and adventure bikes. Power output is identical, but the tall stance gives the Origin more lean angle – if you’re willing to push the more dirt-worthy tires to the limit. The taller suspension also gives a softer, slightly less precise on-road ride, but soon enough, we pull into a dirt riding park where Can-Am has set up a technical dirt course with numerous elevation changes, tight technical turns, loose dirt sweepers, sandy bits, a bit of mud and a few rises that with enough speed, courageous riders could catch a bit of air.

Photo: Can-Am

I dropped the Origin into Off Road Plus mode, and turned off both traction control and rear-wheel ABS. Front wheel ABS is reduced but can’t be turned off so the bikes still meet regulations in international markets. But otherwise, the Off Road modes make the Origin about as “analog” as possible. I entered the dirt track and spun up the rear wheel all too easily, flinging Canadian soil as the Origin shot down the entry straight. I then locked it up and slid it into the corner, turning with the rear a bit, the Origin feeling confident and balanced as it slid.

Photo: Can-Am

But heading into the more technical sections, I began to struggle as the full-power torque output of Off-Road Plus mode was borderline uncontrollable in slow going, resulting in choppy throttle control and a bucking ride. I worked hard to smooth things out and even caught a bit of air off a steeper rise – unintentionally – but the Origin landed softly and control was maintained.

Still, I was not having much fun. I came into the pits and talked to Can-Am about my struggles and we switched to regular Off-Road Mode, less the Plus. Traction control and rear ABS remained off.

Photo by Can-Am

The difference was immediate. Throttle action was smoother, torque output softened and peak power was backed down a notch or two. Let the fun begin. I slid the rear tire through a slightly sandy and muddy corner, and charged up the elevation rise to the whoops section. Happy to be back into at least much improved control, I immediately overcooked a tight corner and left the track (unintentionally), ending up in a forest of small pine trees. But the Origin remained upright, and riding in standover, I slowly picked my way back onto the track, easily surmounting some underbrush and soft dirt. The Origin displayed excellent slow-speed control (at least in base Off-Road mode), and I kept upright as I returned to the packed dirt on the track. I think Off-Road Plus is better suited for unpaved places like fire/forest service roads – or crumbling urban infrastructure – where you have a bit more room to run.

Photo: Can-Am

I circled the track several more times, gaining confidence and speed as I got a better feel for the bike, even catching a bit of intentional air. Soon enough, it was time to head back to the barn hotel and we traced around a small, picturesque lake on a curling two-lane road at a brisk pace, the Origin in Sport Mode, dialing up close to triple digits on some short straights.

On the road, both Can-Am models are comfortable going freeway speeds, but that of course is also the quickest way to suck the electrons out of the battery, so while highway travel is certainly possible, both bikes are best suited for more urban riding. Still, it’s nice to have the option to hop on the expressway if need be.

Conclusions

Both of the new Can-Am electric motorcycles felt well-built, were capable and comfortable to ride and display some worthy tech and innovation. Being an avid adventure rider, I was of course more drawn to the Origin with its off-road capabilities, and was happy to find a push-button solution when I struggled. Quite a bit more simple than tearing a bike down and changing carburetor setup, cam timing, throttle play and so on – and then hoping you got it right when it all goes back together. It’s the miracle of modern EV technology – even though related tech allows for similar flexibility with gas engines through fuel injection tweaks, variable valve timing tech and ride modes.

An original 1973 Can-Am MX 250 in the company design center, with concept drawings of the new bike on the wall behind it. Photo: William Roberson

In a round table discussion after our day of riding, we joined the principals behind the Can-Am bikes, along with some (very) senior BRP folks, for a review of our experience. All of us journalists had an almost unanimous question: Why electric motorcycles? Especially now, when electric motos remain handicapped (in comparison to gassers) by short riding ranges and long recharge times. Why not gas-powered machines that paid four-stroke homage to the frisky two-stroke race winners from Can-Am’s heyday?

The answer we received was interesting: Can-Am/BRP leadership said they are dedicated to the electric motorcycle market for several reasons. First of all, because they only had to essentially tweak their existing electric snow machine powertrain tech, they were able to bypass the huge R&D startup costs most electric motorcycle makers have to invest in up front, long before a saleable product appears. Second, Can-Am’s parent, BRP, is not a startup with startup issues. It’s a $5 billion USD multinational vehicle maker, with R&D facilities staffed with well-compensated design talent, and manufacturing capabilities already at scale. Developing a competitive new motorcycle isn’t easy, but if you already have those assets in place, much of the battle is won, and much money is saved.

Lastly, the grizzled, largely grey-haired moto journalists kvetching about electric bikes are not the target audience for the new Can-Ams. In reality, these are motorcycles for the next generation of riders, the young people who have now been rolling around in electric cars for a decade, riding e-bikes, e-scooters, e-skateboards and capturing the world with their phone cameras. We chuckle with misplaced superiority because they can’t drive stick – and they couldn’t care less. But offer them a fast, real-deal, cool AF motorcycle that’s as easy to ride as a scooter? And it talks to their beloved phone (iPhones for now)? And it doesn’t require a drop of gas? Needs practically zero maintenance? For a new rider coming out of school that doesn’t want a scooter and can’t afford a car, the new Can-Am bikes are compelling. Low monthly payments? Sign. Me. Up. The financing likely pencils out to be lower than the gas bill for a used Honda Civic, let alone the insurance and upkeep costs for a car. And if they are climate concerned – and many are – it’s just one more reason to go with an electric moto.

Sure, you can’t mount an RTW ride on the new Can-Am Origin (yet), but that rider (me) is not the target market. But a fun, fast and stylish motorbike to buzz around town, to work, to the coast, the lake or down a dirt suburban road gas-free and you just plug it into any outlet like a toaster to charge? A lot of people of any age would be willing to trade those charge times for gas bills, especially if it’s topped up and ready to go when they get up in the morning, at the end of a work day, or even after a movie. Level 2 chargers speed up the process even more, and the number of public chargers, while still insufficient in North America, continues to multiply aspace. In Asia and Europe, it’s a different story as chargers are already commonplace. In other words, it’s a problem that’s getting solved, and will be solved through a combination of pervasive chargers, better batteries and continued adoption of electric motorbikes, trucks and cars by people young and old who understand both the limits and advantages of EV technology.

Can-Am’s gamble is the long game, and they have a winning hand with the Origin and Pulse. More bike models are coming, and Can-Am’s electric motorcycle tech could be right on time.

The post Can-Am Returns With Electric Motorcycle Models, We Go For A Ride appeared first on Adventure Rider.