Think back to when you were a kid. Do you remember those old Choose Your Own Adventure books? The ones where you could pick a detail, jump to a specific page in the book, and continue on following the story after you'd chosen what to do. For a while there, those books were all the rage. 

I remember going to book fairs in school and picking out new Goosebumps stories that had that feature, and recall countless others that would engage the reader in similar practices. They taught children the choices of their actions, and how you can affect the outcome of a story through those choices. 

And all of this may seem to be an odd way of starting a review of Harley-Davidson's 2025 Softail lineup, but I don't do anything just to do it. I make choices, just like those books helped teach me. And so, the outcome of this storytelling is that after two days riding in Texas' hill country, I found that, like those Choose Your Own Adventure books, the new Softail's big attraction rests on similar attributes. 

There are Softail baggers, Softail cruisers, Softail classics, and Softail go-fast models. You can have Softails with big engines and Softails with little engines. There are wide-frame Softails and narrow-frame Softails. Softails with mini-apes and Softails with regular bars.

And there are countless, and I mean countless, accessories that one can choose to further customize their Softail, if one of the six models offered from the factory isn't up to their own specifications.

This is a motorcycle that can be almost whatever you want. It's all in your choices. 

Hog Heaven

Now, as some of you might know from my prior coverage, I'm not much of a cruiser kind of person. I prefer dirt to pavement these days. But the newest Softail lineup has the sort of customization capability that would allow me to build my perfect on-road bike. And that all starts with the individual models. 

As mentioned above, there are six different Softail models to choose from this year. These are, in no specific order: Breakout, Fat Boy, Street Bob, Heritage Classic, Low Rider S, and Low Rider ST. And each of them is powered by Harley's 117 ci Milwaukee-Eight V-twin motor, which can be had in three different flavors; the 117 Classic, the 117 Custom, and the 117 High Output. Power output from those motors ranges from 98 horsepower and 120 pound-feet of torque to 114 horsepower and 128 pound-feet of torque, respectively. 

This range of models do get different drivetrains. The Fat Boy and Breakout both get the brand's 117 Custom (104 HP and 126 lb-ft); the Street Bob and Heritage get the 117 Classic (98 HP and 120 lb-ft); and the Lowrider S and Lowrider ST get the 117 HO (114 HP and 128 lb-ft).

There's also a wide frame and a narrow frame, offering customers the choice between a small tire and fat tire bike. Everything in the Softail lineup, however, gets Harley's new rider modes and safety systems, ala the new traction control setup that I tested first-hand with the outriggers (linked above). 

"But, Jonathon," you ask, "how do they ride and which one would you pick?" I'm glad you asked, fake internet person. 

A few miles outside of Austin, Texas is practically another world compared to the hustle and bustle of that burgeoning city. This is Texas' hill country, where winding roads, stubby trees, and BBQ joints litter the landscape. It's where you can put miles on a bike, cruising from one coffee shop to another, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of this beautiful landscape. It's slow rolling, but a perfect area to see how these cruisers cruise. 

I started out the first day on the Street Bob, as its yellow hue drew me in. The mini apes likely had something to do with it, too, as the whole bike has a menacingly fun quality to it. This is a motorcycle that says, "Look at me, I'm the captain now." And that's complimented by the thrummy V-twin between your legs—I always forget how great a V-twin's vibrations make a motorcycle feel after not riding one for a while. But that's something that translates to the bars, too, as it connects you further with the motorcycle's beating heart. Though at the same time, it never begins to tire your hands out. 

Through the miles in the saddle, I was actually pretty surprised at how much I didn't grow tired of the mini apes, either. Those tend to have a habit of killing your arms—but luckily, that never arrived in this case. What I would change slightly if it was my bike, however, is the angle. From the factory, they're a little further back than I would want them. Still, that's an easy hex wrench adjustment away from being perfect. 

From there, I hopped onto the Breakout, and then the Fat Boy—both of which caught me off guard. 

They didn't do anything wrong, nor was I thrown off of either of these bikes. Rather, I was caught off guard by how different the two felt compared to the Street Bob.

Despite originating from the same Softail platform, the Breakout and Fat Boy both feature the wide frame, which allows for a way wider tire. Whereas the Street Bob wanted to lean over through a corner, both the Fat Boy and the Breakout just want to stand up straight. These motorcycles were clearly built for long-hauls, or flat land.

Still, by no means did I feel as though it was a danger or an issue. I could still lean both of them over through a corner, and routinely did along our route. Though I'd also hazard against choosing the floorboard options with the forward controls. In fact, I may owe Harley a few bucks from grinding down the bottom bolts.

It's just something to be aware of if your home riding area has twisty, carvy corners. I found the same issue with the Heritage Classic the following day, as these particular Softails are absolutely not meant for anything resembling a spirited canyon or corner-carving ride. 

The two motorcycles in the Softail lineup that are meant for that type of riding, however, are my favorites of the bunch: The Lowrider S and the Lowrider ST. 

Now, I could've ridden these two Softails forever. Not only are they the most powerful of the bunch, and feature a higher RPM redline, and are the loudest, but they're also the most comfortable for my 6'4" frame. Also, they both have front-mid controls, and—in my opinion—look the best out of the bunch. There's a menace to them that I strongly feel all Harley-Davidsons should have.

Like, if you were to close your eyes and describe a Harley, it'd probably look like these two bikes. 

You've got the Lowrider S, which has all the hallmarks of a classic sporty Harley. It has a small front cowl headlight, the large tank, the full rear fender, and a single seat. And with the Lowrider ST, well, you've got the full front fairing and bags. If I had to pick between the two, it'd be the Lowrider ST every day of the week. It not only fits me physically, but it also fits my personality, my style, and more of my street riding habits. I could easily see riding this thing 1,000 miles and not batting an eye. 

And if I picked that bike, I could further make it my own with all the Harley accessories available. No, seriously, all of them. While I was in Texas, a Harley representative told me that the company's accessories book is 800 pages long. 800 freakin' pages of aftermarket parts. Imagine the Lowrider ST you or I could build with an 800-page book of parts. Is a Harley rifle case that connects to your bags available?

"How much do those adventures cost, though?", I hear you asking.

The cheapest 2025 Harley-Davidson Softail is the Street Bob, which has a starting price of $17,199. The Lowrider S brings it up to $20,499, and the Fat Boy follows in line with $22,599. From there, the Heritage Classic rings in at $22,999, and the Breakout comes with a $23,099 MSRP. Up at the top of the list, the Lowrider ST rounds out the lineup with a $24,199 price tag.   

But again, that's the beauty of this lineup. There are just so many starting places for you. You can lead with looks or power; you can start with a price; you get something that's classically good looking; or you can snag a bar fighter. Whichever you choose, the end product will be something unique, bold, and definitively yours. You can make multiple decisions, and then see how the story ends.

You can choose your own adventure. Are you ready?

Common wisdom holds that you never get a second chance to make a first impression. And while a smart person might gather the facts over time and let those color their opinions appropriately, that first impression will still probably take up mental real estate, whether you want it to or not. 

Take, for example, the brand new Kawasaki NAV 4e.

Down to a person, everyone I know who's seen this thing has asked me about Kawasaki's new golf cart. To which I, since I attended the official launch for this vehicle, have responded that "Kawasaki stresses that it isn't a golf cart." And have then told them that Kawasaki's official website for this vehicle is located at notagolfcart.com.

Yes, for real. Someone really registered that domain name. 

So, since I've now driven the Kawasaki NAV 4e Limited for myself, you might ask me if I think it's a golf cart. And my answer is that, technically, it isn't. For legal classification purposes, it's a Personal Transportation Vehicle, or PTV, which usually have slightly faster top speeds than golf carts.

Since the Kawasaki NAV 4e can do at least an indicated 19 miles per hour, it's just under the 20 mph top speed cap for a PTV in many legal jurisdictions, such as Glynn County, Georgia. Furthermore, the NAV 4e is not quite fast enough to meet the definition of a Low Speed Vehicle (LSV), which is typically between 20 and 25 miles per hour and may be regulated differently.

But those are nuances, and we all know the Internet doesn't like nuance. So, will people call it a golf cart? Absolutely.

And maybe that's what Kawasaki is counting on, for all its protests to the contrary. If the Internet loves something more than cat videos, it's absolutely controversy. Keyboard warriors clacketying about how "ackshually, your RONG" in comments sections everywhere; not to mention whole bot armies summoned into battle for those unlucky enough to not have strong comment moderation policies. 

Ride All The Things

Apart from Kawasaki's strategy in its insistence that the NAV 4e isn't a golf cart, though, I'm here to tell you that there are substantive differences between the NAV 4e and, say, the Club Cars you might see roaming freely at RV campgrounds and other places where low-speed transportation is most commonly used. Such as, say, golf courses. 

Sure, the NAV 4e has a canopy, and it can comfortably seat multiple people. The running is also super quiet, because it's electric. But if you've ever gone over a curb or tree root or speed hump so hard on a golf cart that you're worried you may have incurred spinal damage, I have good news for you: The suspension on the NAV is definitely a step up. Maybe even a couple of steps up. You'll still feel it, but it'll probably be a far cry from what you're used to. That's true even if you're in a NAV 4e that's fully laden down with all four seats filled, and maybe (just maybe) towing an unlucky friend whose e-bike battery ran out.

Plush digs, indeed!

By the way, it's "NAV," not "Nav," because the name is an acronym, which stands for "Neighborhood Activity Vehicle." Kawasaki's vision for the NAV 4e is that, in communities (gated or otherwise) where PTVs and LSVs are able to be driven on public roads, this will be the ne plus ultra version of a PTV. The Ineos Grenadier of PTVs, if you will. So hot, all the families will want it. 

I can't tell you whether they will or not; what I can tell you is what I experienced in driving it, and that's that it seems to be a solid, thoughtfully built machine. From the front, you can see the family resemblance between the Kawasaki NAV 4e and other Kawasaki four-wheeled off-roaders, like the Kawasaki Ridge. The NAV 4e was built from the ground up as an entirely new vehicle, though; and while it may retain styling cues from other Kawasaki vehicles, it did not explicitly repurpose items from those other vehicles—save for just one, and it's a really important and intriguing one.

See, if you're already up on your Kawasaki UTVs, you may already be familiar with Kawasaki's Quick Release Mount system. It's a cool little system that's used to lock a host of Kawasaki accessories into place on its UTVs, using a set of proprietary little locking mechanisms that secure your chosen accessories to your vehicle. Those, Kawasaki also integrated into the NAV. 

I asked if that meant there will be crossover compatibility of accessories between Team Green's UTV lines and the NAV 4e, and was told there won't be. Which kind of makes sense, just talking in terms of scale. The NAV 4e is a different size; luggage racks and other things meant to fit it probably wouldn't be a good fit for a Ridge. That's reasonable.

But still, if you're the type of person who has a Ridge or a Mule, and you also pick up a NAV because you're all about that active neighborhood life, then you might be happy to know those KQR mounts will work across all your vehicles. 

The Driving (And Living) Experience

The Kawasaki NAV 4e is operated using a standard key; no electronic key fob here. The nice, bright, 7-inch, full-color LCD dash display can show you navigation, as well as facilitate smartphone pairing with either your Android or iOS device of choice. Both Android Auto and Apple CarPlay are included if you're driving the NAV 4e Limited, which is the unit I tested. That's Kawasaki's top-of-the-line NAV 4e variant, and the one with the most bells and whistles straight from the factory in Nebraska.

It's also the only one that comes with speakers built into the canopy, so you can appreciate the sweet tunes you crank through your Apple CarPlay or Android Auto pairing. One of the available accessories is a subwoofer you can stick up where the frunk is on an unmodified NAV 4e. Is there street glow? I mean, you could totally find some elsewhere if Kawasaki doesn't sell it, right? It is, after all, all about customization and making it your own.

Naturally, I cranked some tunes for part of the ride, and they sounded pretty decent through the stock speakers. They're placed at all four corners of the canopy, so both driver and all three passengers should be able to hear the music well. That's especially true since it's a super quiet, belt-driven EV. Listening to music or having conversations while the vehicle is in operation is a breeze.

The foot pedals are simple; there's a brake pedal in the middle, with a lockout/emergency brake just in front of that. If you push it down when you're parking, it clicks into place with a satisfying clunk so you know it's really locked in, and your NAV 4e isn't going anywhere you don't want it to. The go pedal (guess it's not gas, given that it's an EV) is on the right, and is pretty easy to modulate in operation. 

Handling is surprisingly good. The NAV 4e comes equipped with 14-inch wheels (niceness varies by trim level, along with 23-inch off-road tires. Steering inputs are good and responsive, and you can make surprisingly tight turns as long as you aren't afraid to really crank that steering wheel full lock in either direction.

I know this because Kawasaki thoughtfully provided a little autocross course for us to check it out. Clearly, the engineers are very proud of what they've accomplished here, and from what I experienced, they should be. The autocross was probably a little more spirited than you're likely to experience cruising around your neighborhood. But hey, I don't know how you live your life, so maybe I'm wrong!

Storage space is both capacious and thoughtful. After all, if this is meant to be a Neighborhood Activity Vehicle, you'd better be able to take some stuff along with you, right? And also, you'd better be able to hydrate. Especially since we were driving these guys in the desert to test them out, where hydration is absolutely key. 

There are no less than six cupholders built into the Kawasaki NAV 4e, on all trim levels. Each one can accommodate up to a 30-ounce tumbler, so all your Stanley cups and Yeti tumblers and any other big bois you might have should fit nicely. Maybe not one of those absolutely ginormous Big Gulp mugs, but you get the idea. There are also plentiful USB-C and -A mounts, so you and your posse can all charge all the things, all the time. Yay. LED lighting front and rear come standard.

The NAV 4e is rear wheel drive, and the electric powertrain and battery setup doesn't involve the front at all. So naturally, Kawasaki turned that area into a nice storage space, a little frunk that can fit a good amount of groceries, or a couple of backpacks, or your pickleball set (they're big on pickleball, Kawasaki's envisioned NAV 4e buyers are), or you name it.

There's also a locking glove box, as well as a small (but open) storage space in the back, just above the rear bumper. If you're not traveling with passengers in the rear seat, you can also fold it down flat for even more storage space. Incidentally, that's where the KQR mounts can come in handy; available accessories include a cool metal storage rack that can handily corral your grocery bags or whatever else you're carrying back there, so it doesn't fall out if you decide to drag a knee through a corner. I kid; you probably won't be dragging knees. Or elbows. Or maybe you will; I don't know how you're going to modify this thing, and I'm not your mom. 

Anyway, speaking to Kawasaki's accessories folks also revealed the degree to which they put thought into accessories for the NAV 4e. Say you decide to use the little storage rack and the KQR mounts, but then you get somewhere, unload, and you no longer need them fully set up. And say you'd like the use of your rear seat back.

No problem! There are nice little recesses where you can store the KQR mounts when they're not in use. And there's also a little rack where you can stash the storage bars, so they're up and out of the way, and you can carry people in the back seat again without having to worry about leaving your storage bars somewhere! Since my least favorite thing about a parcel shelf in a hatchback is having to figure out where to put it if I'm carrying something too big back there, I don't know about you, but I definitely appreciate this level of attention to detail.

The rear seat on all NAV 4e trim levels flips down so you have a flat surface to carry cargo if you want.

Other OEM accessories we saw include available side mirrors (the stock NAV 4es only come with a rearview mirror as standard), additional LED lighting cubes, a big plastic zip top to protect occupants from rain (the sides zip away and roll up, so you can have ventilation too if you want), storage racks for the back, a rearview camera (yes, the NAV does have reverse), and more. 

When asked if there's a mount for wheelchairs, I was told that one isn't currently available. I was also told that I was the second person to ask about it, and that they thought it was a good idea. Incidentally, I also suggested how useful a bag hook in the front passenger footwell would be, much like the ones offered on a lot of small scooters (particularly ones sold in Europe and Asia). If you're driving a NAV 4e out by yourself, having your bag near to hand instead of in the back seat or frunk is something a lot of people (myself included) prefer. Kawasaki told me that a hook like this doesn't currently exist, but that it's a good idea and they may take it into consideration in the future.

It may not be a golf cart, but the accessory rear storage rack can easily accommodate your golf bag contraband, should you choose to flout categorization with your NAV 4e. As far as I'm concerned, your NAV 4e, your rules. Stick what you want in your rack. Go wild. Grow your grass above HOA regulation height, or grow native plants and encourage your local monarch and native bee populations. I'm not the boss of you!

The seats are simultaneously plush and firm, and definitely look nice. Since we only had a few hours with the NAV 4e, I'm not sure how well they'd hold up to the elements. I can tell you that they do get very toasty in the sun, but that's to be expected. Everything is IP67-rated, so Kawasaki says that it's well protected against both dust and precipitation incursion.

All That Info Is Great, But What About Charging?

The Kawasaki NAV 4e comes in three trim levels: NAV 4e, NAV 4e LE, and NAV 4e Limited. The base NAV 4e comes with a lead acid battery, while the other two come with lithium ion batteries developed in cooperation with Inventus. But no matter which trim level you choose, charging is a simple matter of plugging it into a standard household outlet and leaving it alone for some time (exact amount varies based on battery, as well as how depleted you allowed it to get before charging). 

The base 2025 Kawasaki NAV 4e (with lead acid battery) starts at an MSRP of $12,999. Move up to the LE, and it's $15,999. The top-of-the-line fancy NAV 4e Limited that I drove and cranked BTS and Blackpink out of starts at $19,999. These are all prices in US dollars, incidentally. 

Considering what new cars cost these days, is there a place for a $20K not-a-golf-cart in today's market? Maybe, depending on where you live and what your daily driving needs are. I will say that speaking to the Inventus folks about their lithium ion battery technologies was super interesting, because they told us that they tested the batteries at super cold temperatures. And also informed us that there's an integrated battery heater (and smart charging system, so fire worries are minimized) to keep your battery performance optimal even in Minnesota winter temps. 

The fit and finish is indeed what you'd expect from Kawasaki, if you're familiar with any of its other products. It's quite nice, and is both well- and thoughtfully made. For certain people, in certain applications, it could make sense, no matter how you categorize it.

There's a lot to be desired in the motorcycle pants world. Some legs are too narrow. Some waists are too wide. Ankle widths vary greatly. And the fit, finish, and durability is just all over the place. Add to that the fact that I burn through pants generally due to some quirk in my stature—holes form near my undercarriage after only a few months of wearing them—and you start to get a sense of the fact that I sorta despise the whole industry. 

"Why can't anyone get this right!?" I've cursed repeatedly to random passersby. They then tend to look at me funny, but based on conversations with others within the industry and other regular riders, my sense of consternation isn't alone, even with the available breadth of motorcycle jeans and pants. 

That's led to deep skepticism of any manufacturer claims of comfort and durability whenever I get sent new pants. See, I've been down this road before, guys. Everyone says their pants are the best and most comfortable and can stand the test of time. They never do. Pando Moto's, however, seem to actually live up to the marketing. Right out of the box, these are the most comfortable motorcycle jeans I've ever worn. 

In fact, I found myself stretching in ways I've never stretched in motorcycle jeans before. And after riding with them, and switching from one Harley-Davidson Softail to five other Harley-Davidson Softails over the course of a couple hundred miles of hot Texas tarmac, I'm pretty sure I might just make these both my go-to motorcycle jeans, as well as my normal everyday non-riding jeans, too. 

Where have you been my whole riding career, Pando?

Gear Galore

Full disclosure, Pando sent me these jeans to review. And, actually, the company had been asking if I wanted to test something for the last year. I'd put it off largely due to the aforementioned relationship I have with both riding and regular jeans as a whole. But my time through Texas' hill country just outside of Austin with Harley-Davidson was finally the catalyst I needed to take the Lithuanian company up on its offer. 

And, again, I'm so glad I did. 

Pando's Karl Devil 9 jeans use Cordura denim with built-in stretch, along with Kevlar-reinforced lining in the major impact zones of the pants themselves. Think in the knees, hips, butt, and calves, or really where you tend to hit the pavement and roll around on when you crash—ask me how I know. They also come with four removable pieces of armor padding; two for the knee and two for your hips. The armor itself is SAS-TEC TripleFlex CE level 1 for both. 

What's cool about the armor, however, is that you can remove them from the outside. That means if you want to ride to some fancy pants restaurant or event, but not look like a dork with armored moto jeans, you can just snatch them out in about a minute and look as if you're just wearing some cool dark jeans. Putting them back in is also super easy, so you don't have to worry about the hassle of installation after you attend the Oscars with Keanu as your date. 

But more than that, Pando has something that I feel should be far more prevalent in the space: a lifetime "Crash and Burn" warranty. 

According to the brand, "If you’ve got into a road accident wearing PANDO MOTO gear, send us your detailed story and some pics with your mailing address and we’ll replace your damaged gear with the same new one (or equivalent if we won’t have it anymore)." That's pretty cool of the brand, honestly. It's also a testament to the strength of its products and dedication to its customers. I mean, if you get into a wreck that shreds your gear—a major wreck given the strength of these—and the company says it will replace them, that's pretty cool. And it should keep you safe for years to come. 

But let's talk turkey. 

I've now worn these jeans over a lot of miles in the saddle, as well as out and about. I've worn them with and without the armor plates. To really test their comfort, I also wore them on a plane, sitting in economy. I'm 6'4" with long legs, so that's definitely a test of a pair of pants' comfort.

I wore them in the hot Texas sun—it got up to about 80 degrees while I was bumming around on new Harleys—as well as the cool mornings. And through twistys, long, flat stretches, and also sitting around waiting for photographers to do their thing, I never got uncomfortable. Indeed, I was moving around and stretching and all the other riders kept asking about the Pandos. I was able to move around in these jeans as if I was wearing my running base layer, which came in handy after hours of riding as my back and neck started to tire and I had to move around. 

I mention my back and neck in a jeans review as, ages ago, I got into a gnarly moto crash that screwed both up. They get sore both after and during most rides, even if I'm not actively carving corners, shredding dirt, or popping wheelies. So being able to move around on a bike after hours of riding is important to me.

But most motorcycle jeans and pants are pretty restrictive in how easily you can shift around on the bike. And that's especially true since I've found resting a knee on a seat as if you were riding a snowmobile is the best way of reducing those pains for me. The Karl Devil 9s, however, let me switch from one knee to the other quickly and without issue. Again, the range of movement was astonishingly good. I felt like a gymnast, though I'm absolutely not. 

So where does that leave us? 

Well, I usually find something to complain about with any gear I test. There's always room for improvement. But in this case, I can't seem to find any. Which, admittedly, is odd. The jeans have the safety level I'm after for riding street. They have the stretch I want them to provide so that I don't feel like I'm encased in concrete. Pando's warranty is one of the coolest around. The fit feels like a baselayer. And the price, which is $285, is hella reasonable for something with these attributes. I feel like they're perfect...

Maybe let's call out the name? Little too aggro for my taste. But still, I also just might order myself another pair, so I have two in my closet. 

When it comes to helmets, Bell is one of those legacy brands that have been around forever. If you’ve been riding for a while, you’ve probably worn or at least considered one. I’ve been a Bell fan for years and have a few in my rotation—my Qualifier for daily commutes, my Eliminator when I’m in the mood for a retro vibe, and my MX9 for off-road fun.

I think that the brand has always been about blending safety, style, and performance, making their helmets a go-to for riders of all kinds.

But recently, they dropped something new: a touring helmet called the Lithium. And, lucky me, I got my hands on one early. At least I did here in the Philippines. I do have some caveats to this helmet's otherwise pretty solid performance. 

The Bell Lithium: A New Take on Touring—For Bell, At Least

Bell designed the Lithium as an entry-level touring helmet, sitting just above the Qualifier in the lineup. It’s also one of the few Bell helmets to feature a drop-down visor, making it more versatile for changing light conditions.

But perhaps more importantly, it’s Bell’s only true-to-form full-face touring helmet, which fills a gap in their lineup. Touring helmets need to be comfortable for long rides, have solid ventilation, and offer a good field of vision—all things the Lithium aims to deliver at a budget-friendly price.

First Impressions

Take It From Us

Right out of the box, the Lithium’s design is a noticeable departure from Bell’s usual look. It’s more angular, a little sharper, and honestly, if not for the Bell logo, you might mistake it for something from AGV. Bell usually leans towards a more rounded or classic aesthetic, so this fresh, modern design is a bit of a curveball.

But it’s not a bad thing, and that’s because it actually looks pretty sleek. The sharp lines and aggressive shape make it look sportier, which, to be fair, some riders will love, while others may not find to their liking. The drop-down visor is a welcome feature, as no more fumbling with sunglasses or swapping visors when the sun sets. That little touch alone makes it a practical choice for everyday riders.

As for the overall fit and finish? It’s okay, and that’s about it. It’s noticeably better than the Qualifier, but nowhere near the premium feel of the Eliminator, which is twice the price. But at this price point, you can’t expect top-tier finishes. The exterior shell feels solid, and the gloss finish with red flames on mine gives it a bit of a retro feel.

First Wear

Now, about the fit. This thing was tight. I’m a size large across all my Bell helmets, but the Lithium was almost uncomfortably snug at first. I could barely move my cheeks, and it felt like my head was being vacuum-sealed into place. But after a few wears, it started to break in and conform to my head shape, making it much more comfortable.

In hindsight, I should’ve gone for an XL, but given the limited availability of this particular model at the time of review, this simply wasn’t an option. So yeah, take note of this. If you’re an intermediate oval like me, and you’re usually a size large across Bell’s lineup, you may want to consider going up one size specifically for the Lithium.

Nevertheless, the helmet feels light, sporty, and offers great visibility thanks to its large eye port. I appreciate a good field of view in a helmet, especially for long rides, and the Lithium delivers in that aspect.

One thing that caught me off guard, though, was the main visor’s locking mechanism. It’s positioned in the center rather than off to the side, which takes some getting used to. The first time I tried opening it, I had to come to a complete stop just to figure it out. Not a dealbreaker, but definitely something that takes some muscle memory to get right.

As for the drop-down visor, it works well, but Bell really dropped the ball on its lever placement. It’s on the left side, right where most folks install their comms systems. That means your Bluetooth unit will either be awkwardly far back or way too close to the front—not ideal if you like a clean, seamless setup. I personally like my comms system to blend in smoothly, so this placement irked me a bit, so much so that I didn’t even bother installing a comms system. Looks like I’ll be using this lid on my solo rides.

On the Road

Once I got rolling, the Lithium felt light, breezy, and overall comfortable. The cheek pads are snug, but not uncomfortably so after the initial break-in period. The ventilation is decent, though not mind-blowing. It keeps air circulating well enough for city rides, but on hotter days, I could see some riders wanting a bit more airflow.

The main visor is Pinlock-compatible, which is a great touch for all-weather riding. I’m always a fan of helmets that come ready for Pinlock inserts because nothing ruins a ride faster than a fogged-up visor. However, once I hit the highway, I quickly noticed one downside—noise.

The Lithium is noticeably louder than I expected. Wind noise creeps in at higher speeds, and while it’s not unbearable, it’s definitely there. If you’re sensitive to helmet noise, this might be a downside. That said, I found wearing a pair of earplugs helped reduce the whistle significantly. Given the price point, some compromises were expected, and noise isolation seems to be one of them.

To Buy Or Not To Buy?

So, who is the Bell Lithium for? If you’re after a neutral-looking, versatile, and relatively affordable helmet from a reputable brand, this is a solid option. It offers a lightweight feel, good visibility, and practical touring features like the drop-down visor and Pinlock compatibility.

At $160 USD, it’s one of the cheapest full-face touring helmets from a big-name manufacturer. The price alone makes it appealing for riders looking for a budget-friendly option without sacrificing safety or brand reputation.

It’s not perfect—there are some quirks, like the visor lock placement, the tight initial fit, and the higher-than-expected noise levels. But for the money, it’s a solid first or second helmet for both new and experienced riders.

Would I recommend it? Yeah, with some caveats. If you can live with the quirks, it’s a practical, well-rounded lid that covers all the basics. If you’re looking for a near-silent touring helmet with premium materials, you’ll need to shell out more cash—maybe even double or triple the amount. But if you want an affordable, do-it-all helmet from a legendary brand that continues to stay relevant today, the Bell Lithium is a great choice.

Source: Bell Helmets

One of the first years we had our Can-Am Maverick X3, I took my wife and three kids into the woods in the middle of winter. We'd already run a few snowy trails that season and were heading to a spot we could take the kids sledding deep in the backcountry. But it was later in the season, the weather had turned slightly warmer, and while the start of the trail was pretty packed, once you got further, only the top layer was hard. 

Beneath lie essentially quicksand. I think you know where I'm going with this. 

After sledding and a nice backcountry lunch, we went a little further down the trail to see if we could get to another sledding spot, but we began slipping and sliding and sinking as we ventured further and further. I made the brilliant executive decision to then turn around, but almost immediately sunk the entire thing up to its frame rails. I wasn't super panicked about the situation, as we had plenty of sun, the weather was warm, and I had a set of MaxTrax hooked up to the top of the side-by-side. 

Yeah, uh, those weren't enough. It took my wife and me over an hour to dig out the tires and frame, wedge the MaxTrax and a handful of large dead tree trunks underneath the tires for added grip, and a lone ratchet strap to finally get out of the situation. It wasn't my brightest moment. 

That's why I was so keen on testing Can-Am's new Apache XC track system up in Northern Utah a few weeks back. To see whether or not I, a man who has a habit of getting side-by-sides stuck in snow, could do just that. I'm happy to report that I couldn't and now see why they're a thing. 

Plus, you turn your rig into a tank, and that's just plain cool. 

Snowfun

Our destination was Beaver Creek Lodge, as Can-Am was introducing us to the redesigned Apache track system. New on the tracks are, well, a new track design for better "traction, flotation, and lateral
stability" thanks to more aggressive lugs, more heavy-duty wheels that have a new optimized location for better rolling resistance, a higher top speed, and better longevity, reduced NVH, and an added center slide that "allows for optimized track alignment and reduces the occurrence of de-tracking."

We actually got up close and personal with the prior system, too, and the two systems look only vaguely similar, denoting how much work Can-Am's engineers put into these new Apache tracks. And according to our hosts at Uncharted Society, it only takes about a half hour to install the new set of tracks, compared to the two hours the old system used to take. All you need other do is install an adapter plate and then bolt the tracks right up. 

Easy-peasy.

As for operation, our journey took us through the Cache National Forest—something the state of Utah's legislature hates is public—and into the quakie aspens, up into the dark timber, and onto a large plain of freshly fallen snow. It was spectacularly beautiful as we zig-zagged through the public lands and zipped up and down mountainsides, the snow shimmering brightly in the morning sun. 

I'd never driven tracked vehicles before, apart from snowmobiles—and these aren't snowmobiles—so I wondered how the whole thing would feel, especially having driven a number of Can-Am Defenders in my life. The experience wasn't out of the normal feeling of a regular side-by-side, though you definitely felt the increased ride height and taller center of gravity with the tracks on it. But it didn't feel tippy, as I would've expected. Instead, the weight of the tracks made you feel far more connected to the snow and trail. I felt more the suspension rolling than anything else. 

At one point, we had to traverse a pretty steep hill. Something on the order of over a 15-degree decline, and I was sure that I'd feel unsteady in the Defender. But that wasn't the case. At least not after the initial dip. It just leaned a bit more onto its front shocks, settled, and we puttered down the face of this edge. 

Speed, however, is a thing to know about as the top speed of these Apache XC tracks is about 29 mph. On a downhill. That's designed that way as to not burn out the tracks, blow up components, and reduce the risk for drivers of doing something outside the limits of their vehicles. Backcountry tracks are available, however, both for the Defender and Maverick platforms, which will allow for faster speeds. 

These tracks did, however, deal with some pretty deep snow without issue. 

As we crested over a rise, and passed the timbers, we found ourselves in what appeared to be a large meadow. In fact, the snow was just so deep, we couldn't see that this used to be a small grove of trees that had been cut down. We were told we can "Go play" in the field and play we did.

Hand on heart, I figured someone was gonna flip a Defender, as the cuts and hard corners we all took seemed primed for flippage. Yet, despite our best efforts, I mean, our expert driving, none of us managed to put a Defender on its side. What I learned, however, was that you can get yourself out of just about anything with these tracks, as even when you're just gunning it from a stop in soft, deep snow, the new lug pattern and tread design will claw their way out as if there's nothing in their way. They just eat and eat and eat. 

And that's perfect for those who use these machines daily. 

There are plenty of places all around this country where outside work doesn't stop just because it starts snowing. Where work doesn't stop just because you'll get your tire-driven side-by-side stuck in a snow bank. You still need to get shit done and these tracks are a way you can still do that. You can also use them to have fun, mind you, as we did. But for the vast majority of folks who are buying tracks for their side-by-sides, you want something that'll work day in and day out, to get you into the snow, out of the snow, and get work done. These do that. 

What does hurt my brain, though, is the pricing. The Apache XC track system will set you back $5,549. Granted, they essentially allow you to only need one vehicle to rule them all, but the price is a hard pill to swallow. That said, its utility makes it an invaluable tool for someone who absolutely needs to get out into the snow for work or play. And on the day I got our Maverick X3 stuck, as my kids cried they wanted to go home, I would've absolutely said it was worth it. 

Part of the reason I’m in my line of work is so that I can someday justify having a three-bike garage. I mean, if I could ever afford it or ever have a partner who questions my spending—two big “ifs”—at least I could try and argue I need them for my job. Unfortunately, I know most of my brethren don’t have that excuse.

Forget three-bike garages, it’s getting harder and harder to justify a one-bike garage given inflation, recession-wows, and generally financially stressful times. With all this in mind, I can’t believe I let my experience of spending four days on Honda’s XL750 Transalp fly under the radar for so long because it makes such a strong case to be a member of most gearheads’ garages. 

Last June, when I needed a bike that could haul a week’s worth of stuff, be easy to manage in a super busy, unfamiliar city, and generally be comfortable on longish freeway stints, the Transalp gave me all that. 

And, unexpectedly, so much more.

Awkward Start

My introduction to the Transalp wasn’t smooth. I had to drop the largest suitcase airlines allow, before it became “special luggage”, off at a luggage holding facility. I’m not joking when I say I had to kick this bag into the largest-sized locker to get it to fit. Then, I took an Uber to pick up the Transalp and ride it back and fill it with all my crap.

The Transalp was fully loaded with panniers and a top box, but I couldn’t have been more nervous as I was bringing enough motorcycle gear to fuel a Moto3 team in preparation for my stint at the California Superbike School. And if it didn’t all fit in the in the bike, well, I was screwed. 

Yet, I couldn’t believe how much I squeezed into the Transalp’s panniers, and there was very little Tetris involved. If I hadn’t needed all the bulky race gear, I could have easily loaded up for a month-long adventure.

Honda Happenings

But now I had a new-to-me bike with 40-plus pounds of gear to complete my first-ever trip across Los Angeles. Until now, I’d only heard about how bad traffic in LA was, and I was on a press bike. If I said I wasn’t a tad nervous setting off, I’d be lying.

It Doesn’t Get Easier

I’d hoped the Honda would be friendly enough to get me and my gear around LA and out to Willow Springs Raceway without too much hassle, but I didn’t expect how much more it had to give.

Around the city, this bike was a doddle to ride thanks to its predictable responsiveness, light clutch, and friendly low-speed handling character. At 856mm—33.7 inches—its seat height is a tad tall for those who are vertically challenged, but at six feet, I’m not, and its armchair-like riding position left me feeling commanding yet comfortable whether I was lane splitting through busy traffic or cruising on the freeway—and the latter half of that sentence is the most important.

Riding back from Willow Springs Raceway after spending a day at the California Superbike School had me drained. Mentally and physically, I was exhausted. Each day, I burned around 6,000 calories, according to my Garmin, and needed my hour-and-a-half ride home to be as effortless as possible. The Transalp obliged.

The bike was surprisingly nimble through the city and unsurprisingly stable on the highway, thanks to a combination of well-thought-out engineering decisions. Sitting at highway speeds, the 755cc liquid-cooled 24.5-degree parallel-twin put me into a meditative-like state with its effortless smoothness. And I couldn’t have asked for much more from the non-adjustable windshield at the Transalp’s $9,999 price tag. But what caught me off-guard was the seat. 

Initially, it was a tad firmer than I’d expected from an adventure (ADV) bike, but it’s so damn spacious that I found myself moving around in it almost out of instinct and never got a hint of iron butt. 

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that a middleweight ADV from Honda has such good around-town manners and is blissful on the highway. But, again, what came as a shock was what happened when I took a spin up Angeles Crest with another moto journalist friend who was aboard a much sportier machine.

Pushing Comfort Zones

I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t want my first time riding such a famous motorcycling road to be on a middleweight ADV. 

If there’s one place you can go to push an ADV bike’s comfort zone, it’s a seriously twisty road, and in this sense, there aren’t much better proving grounds than Angeles Crest Highway. Considering its 21-inch front wheel, 18-inch rear, and long-travel suspension you’d think this is where the Transalp would finally be out of its comfort zone, but you’d be wrong. 

I ramped things up until the feeling through the non-adjustable 43mm Showa SFF-CA inverted fork became a tad sketchy, before toning my riding back a bit. And the most wonderful thing happened—the thing you always want to happen on a twisty road—I felt like I was pushing the bike and myself to the same tune. 

The Showa forks and Pro-Link rear suspension gave me a surprising level of confidence when railing the Transalp around the canyons, and rail it I did. This model has 91 hp and 55 lb-ft of torque on tap, but unlike most ADVs, the Transalp likes to be revved out. You won’t hit its peak torque until 7,750 rpm and it produces peak hp at 9,500 rpm.

It was here, unbeknownst to me, where the Transalp should’ve been out of its comfort zone, that I was quietly falling for it. And it’s taken some reflection and new experiences to realize just what an electronics package is on offer at this price point. There are five riding modes, engine braking can be adjusted on the fly, along with the traction control and ABS. All these modes can be adjusted individually from each other, which is something I longed for on the Triumph Speed Twin RS I tested recently, which also costs around 50% more than the Transalp.

While wringing its neck I began to appreciate the quick-shifter, which is standard on this model. My first upshifts around the city were jerky, but once you get the parallel twin spinning, both upshifts and downshifts are on the money. In fact, downshifts are on point throughout the rev range and make you think twice about how a stock 755cc parallel twin sounds so good.

I think this is a good time to put out a PSA about the Transalp because if you’re not careful, you might start having too much fun on it. The ADV suspension means rolling off before cracking the throttle will result in effortless front-wheel airtime. But the real fun starts if you accidentally turn on the off-road rear ABS while riding on the street. This mode is minimally intrusive and means fools like me can, again accidentally, back it in with no backing-it-in skills required.

But it was a wrong turn that showed me what the XL750 Transalp was made for.

On my way to Streets of Willow Raceway, a wrong turn left me on a dirt road, and I'm using the word “road” lightly. On any other motorcycle, this would’ve been a disaster, especially since my panniers were loaded up with track gear. But on the Transalp, it was a delight. The bike was so much more capable than I was off-road and made me sorry to see asphalt after a few minutes of ripping dirt. 

The bike excited, delighted, and gave me the comfort and relaxation I needed when I needed it. In today’s economic climate, this puts the Transalp in the discussion for a place in most motorcyclists’ garages.

Forget Your Car

Motorcycles have always been my main mode of transport, and thank God for that because I don’t even know how I’d afford to buy and maintain four wheels. At $9,999, the XL750 Transalp makes a great choice for those who want to live on two wheels rather than four.

There’s no commute that can trouble it. It’ll wake you up in the morning before work if you choose to ride it with a touch of vigor and unwind you on the way home after a stressful day if you let it. Unlike some motorcycles, which force you to ride their rides, the Transalp lets you decide how you want to tackle your journey and then delivers—that’s just your Monday to Friday commute.

Anyone who’s rocking a motorcycle as their sole mode of transport isn’t just commuting on midweek—they’re getting frisky on the weekends too. As long as your friends aren’t supersport maniacs with death wishes, you can happily hit the canyons and raise your heart rate, or if you want to send it through the roof, go off-roading. 

One of my favorite things to do on a motorcycle is get the hell out of Dodge for the weekend, and with the 50-liter top box and combined capacity of 59 liters from the panniers, you could realistically take off for as long as you want. Although all that luggage space will tack on around $1,545 to the MSRP. 

Those who know me know I’m all about finding the best one-bike garage, and I know that the answer takes different shapes for different people. I say confidently that the Transalp is one of those shapes and one of the best value propositions in the one-bike garage category.

They say you eat with your eyes first. I’ve never experienced that through the lens of a motorcyclist until I was walking toward a Triumph Speed Twin 1200 RS on a cool, November morning in Majorca, Spain.

There was just one problem: I wasn’t riding the RS model just yet, as I was starting my day on the standard Speed Twin 1200.

Now, if you haven’t already read my Speed Twin 1200 review, you might think that I didn’t enjoy the bike. But in reality, “enjoy” is an understatement for the time I spent on the standard model, and this should give you your first insight into how I felt once I got to throw my leg over the RS.

The RS is just objectively better in almost every measurable way, but that doesn’t mean it’s the best bike for you between the two options. Much like its standard sibling, the experience of riding the RS begins before you get on it.

The ride starts when you get your first glimpse of the bike.

Bling Bling

The Speed Twin 1200 RS is dripping in all the parts that stick out to us gearheads: Brembo, Ohlins, Marzocchi. It’s hard to know where to look, and the problem is that the more you look, the more you find.

It has all the stylistic features I praised on the standard model and then some. And it's rare for me to pay a huge compliment to a paint scheme, but the Baja Orange/Sapphire Black combo is bloody breathtaking. Bright, golden trick parts beautifully contrast the black paint before you’re simultaneously blinded and excited by an orange tank. The brushed aluminum fender is the chef's kiss.

Even the bench seat gets the RS treatment, as it’s finished with suede and has a stitching detail not seen on the standard model. But this isn’t a strictly stylistic feature, as the seat grips your legs that bit better than the one on the base Speed Twin 1200. 

In fact, everything that makes the RS look better makes it perform better—except that sweet, sweet paint scheme, which is a purely aesthetic gift.

Made To Push

Some differences took a while to shine through as I switched between riding the standard and RS models throughout the day. But one thing was obvious from the get-go, the RS is far more composed, and when you want to get moving, it makes you feel more encouraged to test its composure. 

The majority of said composure comes from the upgrades at the front end. The Brembo Stylema M4.30s put the “hit” into hitting the brakes, and instead of the bike struggling under heavy braking, the fully-adjustable Marzocchi 43mm forks ensure the bike stays just as sharp as you tip in and begin to release brake pressure.

2025 TRIUMPH SPEED TWIN 1200 & RS

Ohlins RSUs with piggyback reservoirs made sure the back followed suit mid-corner, and when I cracked the throttle upon exit. Although all the suspension is fully adjustable, I didn’t feel the need to tinker as the bike handled everything I threw at it perfectly well.

All these trick parts made the RS instantly feel so much sharper on the road, but my inclination to push its abilities came from changes that are practically invisible to the naked eye. The ergonomics on this model are sportier, as the bars are 16.2mm lower and 9mm back compared to the standard, while the footpegs are 6.5mm higher and 40mm further back, which made me want to tip in with more ferocity.

The Ohlins rear shocks put the rear higher than the standard Speed Twin 1200, which adds 5mm to the seat height and put me even further on top of the bars, which gave a tad more front-end feel. When you catch and follow the scent that the RS is leaving for you, its added electronic features will come into play.

2025 TRIUMPH SPEED TWIN 1200 & RS

Unlike the standard Speed Twin 1200, which only features Road and Rain modes, the RS has Sport mode, too. Sport makes the throttle response sharper and turns down the traction control (TC). Maybe some of you who rail a road that you know almost too well, time and time again, will like Sport mode, but it was a tad too aggressive for me given the torquey nature of the 1200.

I wish Triumph enabled riders to use the Sport TC mode while riding in Normal mode, as the TC is wonderful in Sport mode but too intrusive in Normal. Adding to its sporting nature is Triumph’s Shift Assist quick shifter, which couldn’t be physically fitted to the standard model due to the footpeg placement.

Again, like Sport mode, if you’re absolutely on the boil, the quick shifter works as you’d hope. But I found it a tad unrefined when riding the 1200cc parallel twin because of the way you ride it: short shifting and staying in the meat of the torque between 3,500-5,000 rpm. For reference, the RS puts out the same 103 hp at 7,750 rpm and 82.6 lb-ft of torque at 4,250 rpm as the standard model.

Everything, from the hardware to the software, and ergonomics encourages you to go for a Sunday blast instead of a Sunday spin. But, you have to want it.

Do You Want It?

I think you can almost sum up the RS by the tires it wears: Metzeler Racetec RR K3s. This rubber is a solid option for beginner track day riders or serious canyon riding. Think of that, and now look at the RS again. You need to push these tires to generate the heat that’s required to get the benefit of such sporty rubber. And you have to want to push the RS hard enough to get what the motorcycle has to offer. 

Otherwise, you might be happier on the standard Speed Twin 1200 because you’ll be going just as fast and probably feel like you’re having a more engaging ride at those speeds. So just ask yourself, “Do I want this?”

If you psych yourself up before every Sunday ride, this is the model to go for, hands down. It’s notably more composed and encourages you to rip. But if you also “want it” because it looks so enticing—I’m trying to keep my language proper here—I wouldn’t blame you for a second.

The added hardware is worth more than the $2,400 price hike over the standard Speed Twin 1200, which gives the RS its $15,995 price tag. But unlike some models, where getting the up-spec edition is a no-brainer, this isn’t as obvious. It’s all down to the riders being honest with themselves.

All truth told, when I was riding the standard edition and looking at the RS, I felt like a jealous lover just looking at the other journalists on “my bike”. So you can probably guess where I’d put my money.

All Things Triumph

I'm finally aware of when I engage in self-destructive behavior. After years of therapy, I can feel it coming on in times of stress. This tingly anticipation of the oncoming adrenaline spike. One I'll inevitably chase until my muscles cry "No more!"

My breathing shallows. I can feel my heartbeat become more pronounced in my fingers and ears. And the sounds of the world around me become muted. There becomes nothing around me. There's only whatever machine I've chosen to satiate the behavior. I don't not want to let loose. I don't not want to risk everything. 

And while I've done a lot of good work in therapy, working to overcome the need of this feeling to cope with life's stresses, I also know that sometimes, every so often, there's no denying the breathless primal desire that's been ingrained in me for decades. There's no denying the need to take the sort of risks that quell the rampant stressful thoughts I can't—in that moment—overcome with positive reinforcement. 

Risk assessment goes out the window; there's only the moment I'm living in. Thus was the case as I set off into the woods with Ski-Doo, where prior to embarking on our ride, the safety of my world shattered. And while I attempted to cope with the mantras and mechanisms I've learned in therapy, things designed to forsake my need for self-destruction, all my brain could think was "Send it."

It was exactly what I needed. 

Ostensibly, I'd been invited up to Beaver Creek Lodge in Northern Utah by Can-Am to test out the brand's new Apache tracks designed for its Defender UTV models so as they could conquer the snow. But as they were limited to 27-ish mph, the morning's ride in the mountains did little to tamp down the rampant dark thoughts swirling in my brain. It actually felt as if it amplified them, the slow hum-drum of speed limited adventure. 

I wanted throttle. I wanted wheelies. I wanted powder.

And, luckily—or maybe not—the latter half of the day was one scheduled for snowmobiling. But while the rest of our little group chose trail sleds with engines of the 600cc variety, I went to a sled I'm familiar with. A sled that induced manic giggles last season. A sled with a turbocharger, a 154-inch track, and Fox shocks. I chose the riotous Ski-Doo Summit X. And with the push of the sled's starter, all self-preservation thinking went out the window. 

It was immediate poor-ish decision making, too, as the trail had enough undulations and whoops that jumping the big snowmobile was instantaneous. They weren't big hucks by any stretch of the imagination, but starters, precursors to the woods and fields and mountains that lay further back where I could stretch the Summit X's legs and lose control. Just a taste of the unhinged. 

While the snow hasn't been as plentiful as other years, this part of Utah had fairly fresh powder. Crystalline, beautiful, and dry, the top layer felt perfect beneath the sled's skis as I scythed back and forth, carving my way through the snowpack. The turbocharger hissing and sputtering with its wastegate. I slid effortlessly between the trees, up the sides of hills and faces, and did my best wheelies in a handful of spots. I'm not good at them, for what it's worth, as our guides were far better spending 100 days a year on the back of a sled. But with them also on Summits, they did little to quell any sense of reigning my behavior in as they showed off their skills.

I mean, if they're going to go into that powder, I'm going to follow. 

Through the latter half of the day, each time our guides said, "Go play," I did. There was no thinking involved. I jumped the Summit X more. I sped through an open field as fast as the sled would allow, kicking up a massive plume behind me as our photographer snapped pics. I threw myself into the snow, jumping from the sled as if it were a diving board, and generally just sent it as best I could. And I fell. A lot. I got stuck a lot, too.

I went as hard as I could, leaving myself breathless, tired, and generally not thinking of anything but the second I was in. There was no thoughts on the intricacies of life. No thoughts of work, of home, of my family. There was only the sled and I and that moment. That fleeting second of shredding powder. Of the hillclimb. Of the bowl with a large hole in the middle of its face I didn't see until it sent me skyward. There was only the moment I was living in. 

But I did away with the darkness clouding my mind. I wasn't concerned with the "What if?" of it all. I just sent it. 

While I don't necessarily believe that was good or right, in the moment, even after everything I've learned in therapy, it's what helped me center myself. I legit could've injured myself, I know that. But there's something about being out of control so as you can return to be in control that's still alluring to my broken brain. I went off and railed on the Ski-Doo, lost most function of my thought processes, only to get back to the land of the living with ideas on how to overcome the stresses I'm facing. 

It may have not been right. It was absolutely self-destructive. But that snowmobile and those mountains helped me calm everything down by spiking my heartrate to the tune of 180 beats per minute. Sometimes, for me, self destruction can be a good thing.

At least when I don't get hurt. 

Therapy Is Good, Two Strokes Are Better

It's not often that a tire manufacturer enters a new market these days. Pretty much each one has its niche or already has a tire for every machine out there. But every so often, a new player enters the fray and does so with such zeal you have to stand up and take notice. 

Enter Yokohama's Geolander M/T G003 SxS tire. 

But more than just a new side-by-side tire on the market, and bringing with it the normal new market expectations, I'm switching my Can-Am's BFGoodrich KM3 tires, the go-to tire for nearly every side-by-side on the market for go-fast shenanigans, as well as rock crawling and more, to the Yokos. That means they have to compete against the best in the business. They have to compete against the tires that helped me get further into the backcountry than ever before. They have to compete against the tires that helped me find hunting success. 

That's a tall order. 

Yet, when they arrived at my house, and I stacked the Geolander M/Ts up against the BFGs, well, there might be a new big dawg in town. At least just based on looking at the Yokohamas sitting idly against the BFGs. But let's talk about the details of these new tires and see if there's a little more than just me being beguiled by the new-new. 

According to Yokohama, "The G003 SxS is designed to be tough and bring a new sense of confidence to off-roaders,” said Drew Dayton, Yokohama Tire’s senior product planning manager, consumer tires. “It’s built to fit today’s most popular side-by-side models and has the same durability, cut-and-chip resistant compound, and tenacious traction as its big brother, the original GEOLANDAR M/T G003." That original is what Yokohama offers for off-road trucks, things like Ford Raptors and Ram TRXs. So there's some pedigree there. 

The construction includes multi-ply sidewalls, a full nylon cap, and a turn-up carcass, all of which are designed to provide me, the UTV'r, with strength, durability, and wildly good traction on a myriad of surfaces. Good, cause I go places even most UTV drivers hate. See my bow hunt from late last year. 

Yokohama also states that the company included "sidewall armor" to protect against lateral impacts, along with a "higher density" tread compound to prevent chipping and cuts. Again, all in the name of longevity and rugged durability. The brand also said it optimized the tread pattern, along with the voids within, to more easily eject rocks, while simultaneously giving the driver enhanced grip on mud, sand, dirt, gravel, and likely even snow. 

The tires themselves will come in a few different sizes, with diameters for both 15- and 17-inch rims. I have a set of Black Rhino La Paz UTV rims in the 15-inch size in a square setup. And for the Yokohamas, I went with a 32x9.50R15. That's two inches taller than the 30x10R15 BFG setup I have on currently, so I'm gaining a little weight, along with some height. Fingers crossed the X3 fits in my garage with the Pelican top box on after all is said and done...

I can take it off, I'm just lazy. 

As for price, the new Yokohama Geolander M/T G003 SxS tires will cost you about $260 a pop, so a few bucks more than the BFG KM3s. But not unreasonably more expensive, in my opinion. 

I'm set to install them likely this week or next, and I'll be putting them through their paces over the spring, summer and fall before I really get into my thoughts. I'm going to be testing them through mud, rain, water crossings, and during my fall elk hunt. Maybe even a deer hunt, too. Finger's crossed. But before all that, what would you like to see from my review? What sort of nerdy questions can I answer and keep at the top of my mind while I'm testing them? 

Sound off in the comments below and I'll make sure to jot them down to answer once my review goes live. 

Tires, Tires Everywhere!

Retro is cool. It always has been, and it always will be. Your dad's old watch will shine through an outfit, shell tops rock, and a 1992 Olympics jersey hits harder today than it did three decades ago. And in the world of motorcycles, nothing is as full of retro nostalgia as Triumph's Bonneville engine, which the Speed Twin 1200 is built around.

But the Speed Twin line isn't just retro, it's a modern retro, which brings with it, well, it's in the name—Speed.

There are other modern retro motorcycles today that will turn heads, but I'd argue that none would fool the uninformed as much as the Speed Twin 1200. And that's where this model's deception starts, as Triumph's engineers have played a blinder in terms of the trickery that's gone into keeping this motorcycle's retro style and how it makes the rider feel. Old-school cool is built into every millimeter of the Speed Twin 1200; it's in every essence of its design, but at the very same time, it's not old-school at all, and that's what makes it a fantastic modern retro.

In this fiercely competitive niche, it's all about which model can pull the wool over your eyes the most while still giving riders as much performance as they'll realistically ever need. 

Well, damn, if the Speed Twin 1200 didn't make a case for itself on the mixture of fast-flowing and tight twisty roads that sprawl Mallorca, Spain. The journey begins as you walk out to the bike and catch your first glimpse.

Deceitful Designs

In the best possible way, Triumph's engineers have put their all into deceiving us with the Speed Twin 1200. One dead giveaway that a motorcycle is from this era is the trash-can-sized exhausts that desecrate the side of most bikes—emissions regulations, blah blah—but the uninterrupted brushed stainless steel pipes on the Street Twin are even more compact than the previous iteration, and set the tone quite literally.

All the technology needed to meet emissions regulations is hidden under the bike, leaving us with an exhaust system that looks like it could've been lifted from a Bonneville decades ago. On the bike, the pipes deliver a nice audible punch, but the sound seems almost directed toward the rider's triangle because this model won't make your ears ring if it passes you by. 

The idea of a solid punch, like the note produced by the exhausts, continues throughout this bike's redesign.

The stonking fat 1200cc, liquid-cooled, eight-valve, 270-degree crank, parallel twin at the heart is even more visually striking because everything around it has become more compact and angular. Again giving the impression of a solid machine. A punch.

The bench seat, which was just adequate for the 120-odd miles I spent on it, is narrower and more sculpted, and both the fuel tank and engine casings are more angular. Everything looks a bit tighter except for the rider's triangle, which has been made roomier. The handlebars are 17.8mm higher and 13.4mm more forward when compared to the previous generation, and the 805mm seat height, combined with an accommodating footpeg position, let me decide when I wanted to get into a sportier position or relax.

Although most people, including myself, agree that the analog clocks on the previous model better represent what this unit should embody, adding a digital element to the cluster was deemed necessary to accommodate the new tech features.

The Modern Part

The IMU-based electronic system means that cornering ABS and TC feature on the latest iteration of the Speed Twin, as to two rider modes: Road and Rain. These are expected features on any motorcycle in this class, although I found the cornering TC to be too intrusive and frustrating.

It felt as though it was kicking in based on an algorithm between lean angle and throttle rather than an actual loss of traction. Whatever the case is, I felt like the TC light was illuminated way too many times throughout the day. But if this is a turn-off for you, know you can disable the TC with a few clicks on the switchgear.

If you decide to turn off TC and unleash the beast, your right hand will be in total control of 103 hp at 7,750 RPM and 82.6 lb-ft of torque at 4,250 RPM. And I'd argue that there's more deceit from Triumph here because, although the Speed Twin 1200 produces an extra five hp and has an even higher redline of 8,000 RPM—which would fool you into thinking you'll want rev it out—you'll actually want to play in the middle.

That's where the fun is.

At the start of the day, I revved out second gear before selecting third and then dropping back down again, but before long, I just left it in third and loved every minute. With its mountains of torque, I let the bike pull me out of every corner and sent it to the redline if the road was long enough. Of course, there were more than a few delicious short shifts thrown in, which are obligatory with an engine like this.

Even more deceitful is how smooth this 1200cc lump is. I thought it was going to be agricultural or brutish, but thanks to a low-inertia crankshaft and well-mapped ECU, it's so easy to get on with and will happily take you home from work after a long day without white-knuckling it.

But if you want to up the ante, the Speed Twin 1200 has a crafty way of making you feel like you're really pinning it, even when you have more to give.

Almost Pinning It

Once you flick that switch on the right road and decide to lay into the Speed Twin's sporting prowess, you'll find a package that perfectly matches a rider who wants to give a good 70%. You're encouraged to give this level of performance because that's when all the parts gel nicely. 

The non-adjustable 43mm Marzocchi USD forks and twin Marzocchi RSUs with piggy-back reservoirs handled my 185 lb body and spirited riding with relative ease, although they didn't encourage me to push beyond 70% of my riding capability, which is perfect for the road and suits the semi-lazy way you can ride the 1200cc powerplant.

Similarly, the Triumph own-brand 4-piston radial brakes were more than adequate for this type of riding; I'd even say they bit on the twin 320mm discs with more eagerness than I was expecting. So props to Triumph for that. But again, you'd want more stopping power if you were coming into a corner too ambitiously. Speaking of corners.

The Speed Twin didn't surprise me by how well it held its line because I was expecting it to do a great job, and I wasn't disappointed. What did surprise me, however, was how eager it was to tip in. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not dying to create lean angles like a supersport, but it doesn't protest when you push on the handlebars—It stays stable but inviting.

The chassis, combined with the powerplant, and quick-to-heat Metzeler Sportec M9RRs, all lend to an experience where you feel like you're really riding the bike, which is a rare experience at this model's $13,595 price point.

But, of course, like most modern motorcycles, the Speed Twin is more capable than most motorcyclists and certainly more capable than anyone should test on public roads. Knowing this led me to the question: Who's riding who?

Master of Deception

The Speed Twin laid a trap, and I was entangled in it, whether I knew it or not. From the moment I saw those uninterrupted pipes, I had already started to think differently, more nostalgically, and at a slightly slower pace.

I was no more than a pawn—putty in the hands of the Speed Twin 1200—and a fool to think I was going to ride my ride. Every time I "decided" to change my riding style, be it when I "let" third gear lug me out of corners or flow with the roads and let the engine braking do more of the heavy lifting, I was riding a predetermined ride.

I didn't notice at the time because I liked it.

Some bikes will let you decide whether you just need to survive a trip through the city or obliterate a canyon—Yamaha's MT-09 SP is a good example—but once you throw a leg over the Speed Twin, you're riding its ride, and it oh-so-cleverly deceives you into thinking you've decided to ride this way. Ultimately that's what made it such a rewarding day in the saddle, for me.

For once, I didn't feel pressured to push harder because I could feel how much more capable a bike is. The Speed Twin 1200 almost gives you an excuse to tone things down and take more of the ride in. And the bike's trick, the thing that makes you happy to ride this way, is that you feel like you are pushing.

This model is a welcome deception in the era of two-wheeled insanity we live in, and undoubtedly the reason I took in more of the beauty around me while I was riding, but still feeling like I was doing just that—riding.

Tidy Triumphs

Trail bikes, pshhh, not exactly where your mind goes when you’re daydreaming of your next motorcycle purchase. 

But, then, have you actually seen the new 2025 KLX230R? When the hell did Kawasaki decide to go and make trail bikes look slick? I’ll tell you when: this year. I jest because this is coming from someone whose off-road ability verges on novice.

So, when I got the invitation to test Kawasik’s 2025 KLX230R and saw the launch would encompass a full-on off-road variety pack, I had two thoughts: “How the hell is a $4,999 bike going to do all this?”, and secondly, “Am I going to be able to do all this?”.

In an instant, I was transported back to the launch of Kawasaki’s Ninja 500. I’ve been on very few launches where I’ve heard so many adult motorcycle journalists giggle. It was a bike that could imprint a smile on the most seasoned rider’s face, while also making itself available to new riders as a tool to accompany them as they grow.

And so I wondered, since we were apparently going to what seemed like an off-road all-you-can-eat, would the KLX230R be a kind of dirt bike version of the Ninja 500? If so, my skill level and eagerness to progress on dirt—a current side quest—would make me the perfect person to tell you if the KLX230R does what Kawasaki says it should: inspire confidence while remaining more capable than the terrain you throw at it. 

If the KLX230R could give me the ability to put my off-road knowledge into practice, progress, and feel like there’s still more on offer, I’d consider this a real win. But, if I wound up dominating the bike in just a day, then it’d be hard for me to recommend it to anyone who wanted to do anything more than potter around farmland. Those were my parameters. 

To the proving ground in the Hollister Hills State Vehicular Recreation Area (SVRA) I then went.

Small Package, Big Confidence

At the SVRA, there were more trails than you could cover in days of riding, from wide, fast open dirt roads to tight, nadgery single tracks that forced you to keep your head down or get flatlined by a tree branch. 

It was on these tracks that Kawasaki’s new off-road ergonomics made me feel like I was riding the bike with confidence in the front end, and not playing a guessing game of grip. 

Compared to the previous model, the handlebars are 25mm farther forward and 13mm higher, and the footpegs are 9mm rearward. All this puts you in a more commanding position over the front wheel, and anyone who’s ridden off-road knows how important it is to have confidence in the front. 

But if it wasn’t for a major chassis change, the new ergonomics might have had me feeling a little too aggressive than I was comfortable with. The KLX230R’s seat height now sits at 905mm, which is 20mm lower than the 2024 model, and from the first moment I threw my leg over and felt both feet touch the ground, I started to do away with the insecure thoughts I was initially having. 

Kawasaki achieved this confidence-inspiring upgrade by redesigning the rear subframe to trace a lower line, all without removing seat padding—there’s actually 6mm more padding—or sacrificing suspension travel. And thank god for the second part, because we sent this model down some scarily steep terrain. I needed all 9.8 inches of travel from the 37mm non-adjustable Showa forks to ensure I had enough for any unexpected dips while on the brakes.

It was a mixture of the KLX230R’s new chassis and ergonomics, which include a steeper rake and shorter wheelbase, that made the bike feel so nimble even in my relatively untrained hands. And although I’ve ridden full-fat 250 and 450 motocross bikes, not once did the KLX feel like a bike for a teenager. It simply felt more manageable—I had more confidence in sticking it where I wanted.

If the tweaks to the KLX’s chassis gave me more confidence, it was the new fuel-injected 233cc air-cooled engine that allowed me to exploit it.

All The Fun, None of The Fear

The KLX230R puts out just shy of 19 horsepower at 8,000 rpm, which isn’t going to set anyone’s hair alight, in theory. But what this engine lacks in out-and-out power, it makes up for in usable torque straight from idle.

I cannot overstate how tractable this bike is in low to mid RPMs. This, combined with how freely it revs, means you can happily run it a gear high, find traction, and still let 'er rev out, which puts far less stress on the rider in tricky terrain. This is such a stark contrast to some of the more “serious” off-road motorcycles that are seemingly one RPM away from stalling or ready to tear the bike out from under you. And it’s no accident the KLX behaves like this.

2025 Kawasaki KLX230R

For the 2025 model, Kawasaki used a narrower intake port and smaller intake valve in addition to a new ECU tune, which was created especially to match the increased low-mid range torque.

The fact that I more or less knew the KLX230R wasn’t going to stall but wouldn’t leave me on my back if I was a bit more aggressive with the throttle, gave me the confidence to start being playful with it. 

I was popping the front wheel over obstacles on the enduro course and slinging the bike out of turns on a mini motocross track by dumping the clutch with a fistful of throttle. These are two things I never would’ve imagined saying if you’d asked me what I’d be doing on the KLX230R launch, but they’re areas I needed to progress in, and the KLX provided that platform.

For 2025, the KLX230R features a Uni-Trak rear suspension unit that offers 9.8 inches of suspension travel to match the front forks. As my confidence grew on the mini motocross track, I edged closer to finding the limiting factor of the relatively basic suspension. But that’s not a slight on the KLX. Far from it. 

I was asking things from this suspension that I had no right to and it was still putting up with the abuse happily enough. In fact, for the latest model, the suspension is even firmer, which is partly why the majority of the day was spent asking this bike to do things it shouldn’t, and it never complained.

But it’s not just an agricultural workhorse that can take a beating, for 2025, the KLX230R comes with the technology you’d expect from a new motorcycle, and the style you’d expect on a premium bike.

What More Could You Ask For?

Let’s remind ourselves again that this bike costs less than $5,000 and features an electric start, a keyed ignition system, a low-fuel warning lamp, and FI warning lamp at the center of the cockpit. I wouldn’t want any more tech than that on this bike, but I wouldn't want one feature less if were exploring some new trails and leaving my bike unattended on public lands.

As cool as the tech is, however, there’s no escaping the fact that trail bikes have a history of, well, not being or looking cool. But if you really think that about the KLX230R, I reckon you’re being a bit of a hater because for 2025 it’s not far off looking like something from the KX lineup.

There’s a new front fender that was stolen straight from a KX and the rest of the bodywork got a refresh too. It’s not just more modern, it’s been designed not to catch your gear while riding, and I can say I didn’t get caught between the plastics once. As a relatively novice off-road rider, that’s the last thing I’d need to distract me. Even the brake and clutch levers got shortened to add some style.

But the best and, in some ways, most subtle stylistic feature on this model are the black rims, which are 21 and 18 inches. So you’re not limited when it comes to tire selection on the KLX230R.

Perfect To Start or Finish

By the end of my day on the KLX, I felt like it was the stepping stone I didn’t know existed toward the world of more extreme off-road riding. I don’t reckon most people think about trail bikes when it comes to serious riding, but if you don’t take my word for it, just know Axel Hodges was at the launch and absolutely ripping around the motocross track on a bone-stock KLX230R.

I could see myself learning a lot on this bike before progressing to something more performance-orientated, but when I asked Kawasaki’s Media Relations Supervisor who was the KLX’s most common buyer, it was the opposite of me. I was told it’s usually people over the age of 40 who’ve been through the motocross ringer and don’t want the hardship of a bike that’s barking mad anymore. Instead, they want to put their skills into thrashing a bike if the mood takes, and something that’s capable of taking it.

So, whether you’re looking for a route into the world of off-road riding and want something that’s more than capable of letting you find your way, or you’ve done your time and want to rip on a bike that’ll happily take the abuse, don’t overlook the KLX230R. 

The biggest takeaway from my day on the KLX was just how much fun it was to ride, and not just for me. Every journalist was grinning and generally hooning. And I say there’s an argument to have this inexpensive, playful bike in practically any gearhead’s garage.

Team Green

What's the first bike you ever saw yourself on?

Not whatever you ended up actually getting, necessarily. I mean the first bike you saw yourself riding in your brain, whether it ever actually materialized or not. The kind of bike where it didn't matter whether it was even practical for you; the one where the heart wants what it wants, and damn the consequences. Have you got it in your head?

For me, my first moto-crush was a mid-2000s Triumph Scrambler. The styling absolutely spoke to me; those high-mount pipes, the saddle, and everything else were just perfect. It was a time period before there were scramblers and retro-styled bikes everywhere, so it stood out a little more than it would later on. To my eyes, the styling was everything I wanted. Eventually, new-rider me would go to a Triumph demo truck event and ride a whole bunch of bikes. That's also when I'd come to realize that my short little corgi-esque legs and the Scrambler were absolutely not a match made in heaven.

But at that demo truck ride, I also found that parallel twin and those standard ergos to be pretty darn agreeable and accommodating, even when I was a relative newbie. Isn't that what you want? Well, even though I may not have wanted to admit it, the real-world experience of throwing a leg over a Scrambler back in the day made me quickly realize it wasn't the right bike for me. But it's hard to deny the supremely agreeable nature of a Triumph parallel twin, particularly in the Bonneville family. Some might even say it's too agreeable. Too safe. Too friendly, if such a thing is possible. Not exciting enough. 

In the intervening years, I've ridden plenty of other bikes, both from Triumph and other manufacturers. My 2024 moto-BFF, as I've previously gone on at length about, is a Street Triple. And at first glance, apart from both bikes being made by the same manufacturer, you wouldn't think the riding experience would be that similar between the two.

You'd, however, be wrong.

In terms of the engines, they're nothing alike, of course. There's something incredibly appealing about the Street Triple's power delivery, not to mention all those delicious triple noises it makes while it's giving you all that perfectly applied power and torque. Meanwhile, bikes in the Bonnie family might make some great noises, depending on the tuning and what exhaust is installed. But it's decidedly not a triple noise, you know?

And for good reason. The 900cc liquid-cooled parallel twin in the 2025 Speed Twin 900 has a completely different character and feel. It makes a claimed 64 brake horsepower at 7,500 rpm, along with 59 pound-feet of torque at 3,800 rpm. And it's just...smooth. Goes where you want, when you want. No fuss.

Riding a bike I haven't ridden before is always an interesting experience, because both my brain and my body need to acclimate to the newness of any given machine. And that's where the 2025 Speed Twin 900 differed. When I threw a leg over, the only new piece of information I had to take in on this bike was where the optional heated grip controller was, and how it worked. 

It's rare for me to slip into a motorcycle cockpit anymore and not really have to acclimate myself to a set of new quirks. I'm not talking about the usual things, like adjusting the mirrors or the levers; I'm talking about the entire operational experience. Not so with this bike, though; everything just immediately felt like I've been riding this bike for years. Like we've known each other forever, and we're just going out for yet another bit of fun on some new roads. Supremely chill.

And there's that word again: Agreeable.

Granted, as we've also discussed in the past, I am admittedly and unabashedly a naked bike fan. I love 'em, even if I have to hop on an occasional highway and get buffeted mercilessly since I stupidly forgot to ride a bike with fairings. But I've ridden other naked bikes, even, and not had them immediately feel as familiar and comfortable as the 2025 Triumph Speed Twin 900. So, you can make of that what you will.

It's at this point that I must call out two key options that were both installed on the 2025 Triumph Speed Twin 900 that I rode. One was the heated grips; a factory Triumph accessory, and one that everyone in my group was grateful for. We were riding in some gorgeous Spanish mountains, during what's normally considered to be winter months back home. Yet, even though it was quite a bit milder than the weather in the northern half of North America, the wind in the mountains was still considerably chillier than it was at lower elevations.

When we started out, I wondered if I'd made the correct choice of gloves for our day of riding. Thanks to the three levels of heat available from the heated grips, though, I needn't have worried. While I do have thick winter gloves, I didn't bring them because I don't love the way the controls feel through the thick Thinsulate padding. But with heated grips that work this well, it's possible to have warm fingers and still have good control feel. 

The other key option installed on my Speed Twin 900 was the low seat. The stock 2025 Speed Twin 900 has a reasonably approachable seat height of 780mm (about 30.8 inches), but the low seat option reduces it to 29.92 inches, or about 760mm. The bike already has a narrow standover, but for the extremely vertically challenged, every little bit counts in building confidence.

There are plenty of shorter riders who find ways to make bikes work for them. On the extreme end, you even have next-level badasses like Jocelin Snow, who can bend giant GS bikes to her will and successfully compete in the International GS Trophy even though she's about my height. 

Those riders are unbelievably amazing, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't wish I was even half that much of a badass. But at the same time, I'll also maintain that I don't think you should have to be if you want to ride a bike that isn't an ultra-low-seat-height cruiser. After all, a lot of riders of multiple heights and levels of riding experience will never, ever compete in a single off-road rally. And that's OK. 

That shouldn't stop you from being able to throw a leg over a bike and instantly feel at home. And if people (and motorcycle manufacturers) mean what they say when they say they want to grow motorcycling and invite more new riders in, we need more bikes that are so instantly comfortable and encouraging. Not fewer.

Once you seat yourself on the 2025 Triumph Speed Twin 900, the entire motorcycling experience feels like it's second nature. If you want to feel like you're one with your motorcycle, it's a bike that makes you feel like this that's going to do it; not something that wants to bite your face off. One that feels like an extension of your own body, only moving with more ease and grace than you might manage at such speeds.

The key to updating modern classics isn't only new paint and graphics, though of course the 2025 Speed Twin 900 gets some of those, too. Instead, what it's really about is tiny refinements. When you get the rough shape hewn out of a block of wood, it's then up to you and your discerning eye to go back in and carefully carve out all those tiny details you see in your mind's eye. 

That's why, for 2025, Triumph added a six-axis IMU to the Speed Twin 900. Did it have to? Probably not. And it's not like the OEM has suddenly gone out of its mind and added a whole bunch of electronic rider aids that no one needed or asked for on their Speed Twin 900. Instead, you get the benefits of carefully dialed-in optimized cornering ABS (OCABS) and traction control. You also get two ride modes: Road and Rain.

They're useful, and most of all, they're unobtrusive. On our test ride, we didn't encounter any mega-slippery conditions. There was one bit going past a quarry, though, where there was quite a bit of dust and sand on a decent stretch of road. The weather, which we were told had been rainy in recent days, was dry while we were out—and so were the roads. While I can't give you an experiential stamp of approval, as a former commuter who used to ride in almost all weather, I can say every little bit of unobtrusive help is nice to have.

Suspension-wise, the 2025 Speed Twin 900 gets a Marzocchi upside-down fork unit (nonadjustable), twin rear suspension with preload adjustability, and a larger 320mm front brake disc with a radial front brake caliper. The new cast aluminum wheels shave around 100 grams off the weight of the units used on previous years, and come shod in perfectly confidence-inspiring Michelin Road 5 rubber.

Looks-wise, there are three paint schemes to choose from: Aluminium Silver/Carnival Red/Jet Black, Pure White/Maui Blue/Tangerine Orange (which is what I rode), and Phantom Black/Aurum Gold. The Aluminium Silver/Carnival Red/Jet Black starts at US $9,995, while the other two colorways come at a $500 premium above that, starting at US $10,495. 

For those keeping track at home, the 2025 Speed Twin 900 price only rises by $100 above the previous version. And for that price, you get the updated IMU, suspension, front brake, and a host of styling tweaks. This includes clutch, alternator, and sprocket covers, not to mention throttle body covers, reshaped fuel tank, fuel filler cap, footpegs, and more. Oh, and you also get a shiny new LED headlight and bracket. That seems like more than good value for your $100 extra.

In the current Triumph lineup, the Speed Twin 900 sits between the Speed 400 and Speed Twin 1200 in the family. While it's undeniably more powerful than the diminutive 400, it's still a friendly, chill ride. Only, it has enough power that you could hop on highways if you needed to and not have to worry about whether you have enough power. 

This is a bike for anyone who just wants a chill vibe on their ride, likes looking good while doing it, and also appreciates the admittedly rather nice purr emanating from that engine and exhaust setup. The sound is quite nice, but the thrum also isn't excessively or uncomfortably vibey through the bars or the rest of the bike. 

Overall, the 2025 Speed Twin 900 is your chill moto friend who's up for anything, ready for a good time everywhere. It's an everyday companion; refined and eminently accessible for a wide cross-section of riders. To make it even more accessible to as many different riders as possible, there are a slew of OEM Triumph accessories that can be pre-installed on the Speed Twin 900, as well.

The bike I rode had the accessory low seat installed, which adds $250 to the cost. The heated grips we got to experience add another $300 to the stock price of your chosen colorway. You can also add options like cruise control, ribbed bench seats in black or brown, Fox adjustable RSUs, aluminum sump plates, windscreens, luggage, and more.

If you have any questions about the 2025 Triumph Speed Twin 900, feel free to leave 'em in the comments and I'll try my best to answer. 

More Lasting Impressions

When we think Royal Enfield, we think of one of two things. Either you’re a diehard off-roader and the only bike worth buying from the brand is the Himalayan, or you’re a laid-back rider who appreciates simple, barebones machines with tons of customizability.

Given the fact that I’m neither of those, I must admit that Royal Enfield’s bikes haven’t always been top of mind for me. That is, until now.

You see, I love performance-oriented motorcycles. And while I love liter-class hypersports pushing upwards of 200 horsepower as much as the next guy, performance can mean different things to different people. For me, my definition of performance is more about balance—a lightweight, flickable chassis, mated to a peppy engine that provides just the right amount of power and torque to have a good time out on the twisties.

Little did I know that with the Royal Enfield Guerrilla 450, I’d find just that.

The two test bikes we'd flog on track pretty much all day

I was invited by Royal Enfield to try out the new Guerrilla 450 in a very unique way—a chill track day on a tight and technical race track used mostly by go-karts. Quick side note here—track days in the Philippines are very much different from track days in the US. Everything’s much more chill, almost to a fault. You’re not required to wear leathers, there aren’t any safety inspections, and heck, there aren’t even any marshals out on the track. You simply head over there and ride as if you were riding on the street. Pretty crazy, right?

At my disposal was not one, but two brand new Royal Enfield Guerrilla 450s. For those unfamiliar, the Guerrilla is RE’s newest naked bike, scrambler, street bike thing that’s set to go up against the likes of the Kawasaki Z500, KTM 390 Duke, and Husky Svartpilen 401. Styling-wise, it came across to me as a sort of confused bike. Is it a naked bike? Yeah, sure. But its scrambly tires suggest that it’s willing to go off-road. But wait, it’s also rolling on 17-inch wheels front and rear—so is it a flat tracker? I didn’t know anymore. All I knew was that I wanted to ride.

And ride I did.

The Royal Enfield Guerrilla 450 is a very big deal for Royal Enfield. Not only is it based on the Himalayan 450’s brand-new platform, but it’s also the sportiest on-road motorcycle in RE’s catalog to date. I get it, the Continental GT650 exists, and while that’s a full-blown cafe racer, this thing’s nothing short of a hooligan masquerading as a retro-inspired scrambler.

Swinging a leg over this thing and taking it out for its warm-up lap immediately reminded me of my first “real” motorcycle, the KTM 390 Duke. Yep, it’s that good.

Guerrilla 450 branding on the top Flash model

A full LED headlight with DRLs adds a premium touch

Royal Enfield's Sherpa engine yet again showcases its capability

The engine, as those who’ve ridden the Himalayan 450 would be familiar with, is eager to rev, has a healthy spread of power and torque from the bottom of the rev range up until the middle of the powerband. It’s only when you wring it out to redline that you notice all 40 ponies and 30 pound-feet of torque tapering off. Speaking of power, this thing has two ride modes—Power and Eco—which you can switch between on the fly. But given that we were on a race track, I made sure to leave it on Power mode pretty much the entire time.

The track we were on was called Tarlac Circuit Hill, and its name is pretty much self-explanatory. It’s a tight and technical circuit situated on the hills of Tarlac City, around a three-hour drive from Metro Manila. And as it would turn out, it was the perfect proving ground for a fun and agile bike like the Guerrilla 450. Going through the corners, the Guerrilla 450 felt surprisingly stable. I found myself backing it in through corners, getting the tail out by overpowering the ABS by downshifting twice without rev-matching.

And when you wanted to ride it like a sportbike, well, you could. I found myself adjusting my body position from leaned-in to a leaned-out in the middle of a turn, and the bike didn’t get upset at all.

You can flick it into a turn like a supermoto

Getting a knee down on this bike would've been easy in leathers

Now, Royal Enfield offers the Guerrilla 450 in three variants in its home market of India—Analog, Dash, and Flash. But here in the Philippines, only the Analog and Flash versions are available. Luckily, I was able to run both models through their paces, and right out of the gate, it was clear that if it was a fun and hooligan-esque ride you were after, you’d be an idiot if you didn’t spend the extra bucks to get the Flash.

The top-of-the-line Flash variant not only comes with the fancy Brava Blue colorway, it also gets better tech. It’s rocking a full-color TFT, which makes it easy to see what mode you’ve set the bike on at a glance. As for the Analog model, the tiny Casio calculator-like display in the middle of the instrument cluster will have you squinting to decipher the information. Like the Flash model, it also gets Tripper Navigation, but it’s mounted on a separate pod beside the main cluster. So yeah, a clean and well-integrated dashboard is yet another reason to splurge on the Flash variant.

The top of the line Flash model gets a TFT display with integrated navigation

The Analog dash on the base model gets a basic LCD cluster in the middle

The top of the line Flash model comes in a swanky Brava Blue colorway

As for the bike’s on-road manners, well, it’s clear that this thing’s a traffic buster. The stuff you’d complain about on the twisties are actually the stuff that make it easier to ride on a daily basis. The footpegs, whose feelers I managed to grind all the way down on the track, are low enough to keep you relaxed, while just the right height for you to be able to grip the tank with your knees. The tall handlebars and the tight turning radius give you a commanding stance on the road, while making filtering through tight traffic a breeze.

And of course, the single-cylinder Sherpa engine has a lot of potential. It has proven itself as an off-road capable mill in the Himalayan 450, and now, with the Guerrilla 450, it’s proving that it can hustle on the street, too.

Now, as of the moment, the Guerrilla 450 isn’t available in the US just yet. It’s expected to land stateside in the spring of 2025, and so official pricing has yet to be revealed. Nevertheless, it’s more than likely that this machine will provide some very attractive value for money—some say close to the $5,000 mark. And it’s only a matter of time until a bustling aftermarket scene will pop up specifically for this model.

Personally, if I had this bike in my collection, I’d swap out the stock foot pegs for higher rearsets, slap on a clubman handlebar, fit a set of Bridgestone Battlax S23 rubber, perhaps throw on a slip-on exhaust for good measure, and hit my favorite set of twisty roads. But hey, that’s just me. And the Royal Enfield Guerrilla 450 proved to be quite the capable bit of kit straight out of the box.

Towards the end of the day, I found myself second glancing at this bike and asking myself if this really was a Royal Enfield. All my previous experiences with Royal Enfield’s bikes (except for the Himalayan 450) tamed me and taught me how to appreciate riding at a leisurely pace hopping from one coffee shop to another. But the Guerrilla 450 was something else. It was the first time that a Royal Enfield made me feel like popping wheelies at stop lights and sliding the tail out when taking corners.

It’s a bike that I actually want for myself, and one that just might find its way to my garage sooner or later.

Take Our Word For It

I’ve always enjoyed going for long walks. When I briefly held a desk job, I’d go for a stroll every day during my lunch break. On my motorcycle travels across the United States and around the world, some of my fondest memories are of exploring destinations on foot, even when exhausted after spending hundreds of miles in the saddle. When not traveling, I’ll explore local parks and forest preserves. A ten-minute drive to the library or post office? It’s a beautiful day, let’s turn that into an hour plus walk!

But modern life being what it is, time constraints left me somewhat limited to the nearest local trails and suburban sidewalks, and I wanted to explore further. We have plenty of preserves and trails in the Chicago area, but the idea of “driving somewhere to go for a walk,” emitting exhaust fumes and mentally absorbing the stress of traffic on either side of my trek through nature always felt hypocritical and somewhat counterproductive.

I could’ve taken a pedal bike, but I was never comfortable being associated with the established bicycle tribes. Between the Lycra-clad wannabe road racers, Critical Mass activists, and extreme mountain bike bros, there seems to be some real gatekeeping issues in the bicycling community, and I wanted no part of it. Additionally, while I’m in pretty good shape, I am by no means an athlete and some of the inclines on our local trails can be a bit daunting. I was looking for a mobility solution that existed adjacent to the realm of cycling. Something that could take advantage of cycling infrastructure, offering the benefits of biking without all the baggage.

Enter the Aventon Aventure.2.

The handsome styling is welcoming and unaggressive. Its rugged good looks are both tempered and accentuated by the pleasing curves of the frame and fenders, the satin green paint, and utilitarian luggage rack. Despite the almost cartoonishly fat tires, the proportions somehow work, and the Aventure.2 successfully exists comfortably in its own skin without pretense and carries none of the cycle-bro baggage. I ride in cargo pants and hiking boots so that at any moment, I can pull over, park the bike trail-side out of the way, and wander into the woods snapping wildlife and nature photos.

The hardcore bikers would say e-bikes aren’t real bikes, and I’m not a real cyclist, and to that I say “perfect.” In a world of five-figure pedal bikes, could this $2,000 e-bike be the egalitarian solution to two-wheeled (sub)urban mobility?

Sporting a 750w motor, 15Ah battery, and torque-sensing electric assist system with 4 levels: Eco, Tour, Sport, and Turbo, there is a genuine accessibility to “casual cycling” on offer here, presenting a solid and viable alternative to automotive transportation for those previously uninterested or unable to pilot a motorcycle or scooter, or to pedal a traditional bicycle.

About accessibility, the Aventure.2 is offered in two frame sizes: regular and large. We chose to experiment with our frame size selection. Despite my 6’2” height and 34-inch inseam placing me near the top end of the “Large” frame on Aventon’s size chart, we opted for the “Regular,” which my partner is near the bottom of on their size chart with her 5’3” height and 27-inch inseam.

There is actually enough adjustability with the seat post that both of us are happy astride the “Regular” sized frame. The saddle offers a good compromise that’s both supportive and comfortable enough for my skinny, thinly padded ass while never interfering with a smooth pedal stroke.

The bars are damn near perfect. Not too high and wide, nor overly low and aggressive, and offering plenty of leverage and front-end feel. The reach is just right, giving me a bit of forward lean with a slight bend in the elbows, mimicking my preference for Naked and Sport-Touring motorcycle ergos. The left thumb-operated throttle is intuitive and makes way more sense to me than a twist grip on an E-Bike. Just gotta remember – we’re on a bicycle, so the front brake is on the left!

Regarding range, I was never able to achieve Aventon’s claimed “up to 60 miles.” Fully-charged batteries reliably returned 37 miles before hitting 0%. This has been consistent over nearly 1,000 miles and a wide range of temperatures, using either ECO or Touring mode. Surfaces were mixed, split evenly between hard (concrete and asphalt) and soft (gravel and grass), and mostly level with some inclines ranging from gradual to steep.

Even in an attempt to extract maximum range—sticking exclusively to ECO mode and turning E-assist off on level ground, with the fat tires aired up to decrease rolling resistance, and always contributing pedal power—I would consistently deplete the battery at 37 miles. Turns out that Aventon’s claimed range is determined over flat terrain using a rider weight of 160 pounds. I’m a few pounds heavier than that, usually packing water, snacks, and camera equipment, and ascending some hilly terrain, so there you go.

Also, the battery gauge is not linear, giving a false sense of range when first setting off on a full charge. Below 20%, power delivery seems to be limited. At 10% and below, you’re practically in “limp-home mode.” With a nearly depleted battery, even the slightest incline becomes a real chore for the electric motor. Moderate or steep grades become simply impossible for the E-assist system, and you’ll be lugging all 77 pounds of the Aventure.2 up that hill exclusively on pedal power.

Once you understand these limitations, it just takes a bit of route planning to avoid leaving yourself on a super steep incline at the end of your ride. Fortunately, the 48-tooth crank and 8-speed rear derailleur with cogs ranging from 12-32 teeth offer plenty of ratios to make unassisted pedaling manageable in most conditions.

And that’s the great thing about e-bicycles. Unlike offerings from Cake or Ubco, which leave you helpless once the battery runs flat, an e-bike like the Aventure.2 gives you options. You can dial in as much electric assistance as you want, or none at all.

You want a strenuous workout? No problem. You want to take it easy? You got it. Just pin the throttle wide open and give your legs a rest. Oops, you miscalculated your route and ran the battery flat? Just pedal home using the traditional 8-speed rear derailleur to select the appropriate gear ratios along the way.

Assist settings can be adjusted on the fly using the d-pad-like control cluster on the left handlebar. Power mode, speed, mileage and other trip data are easily read on the backlit LCD full color display, which is bright enough for the sunniest days, and suffers no problems with glare.

Not interested in trail riding, and you want to use the Aventure.2 for a quick run to the shop? I’ve done that, too. The included standard rear rack appears to be compatible with the Ortlieb QL2.1 mounting hook system, giving you a wide selection of panniers to choose from. The E-assist helps me feel much less vulnerable sharing the road with cars versus riding a traditional pedal bike. The reduced speed differential and agility to quickly accelerate out of a dangerous situation is reassuring and confidence-inspiring.

Regarding speed, the Aventure.2 ships from the factory as a Class 2 e-bike, which limits electric assist to 20 mph. Aventon’s app (iOS or Android) allows you to quickly pair your device via a QR code on the bike’s LCD display. This app gives you the ability to enable Class 3 operation of the Aventure.2, so electric assist can be dialed up to a maximum of 28 mph.

A pop-up in the app warns users that doing so may violate local laws, so be sure to check the regulations pertaining to e-bikes within the jurisdiction you’ll be operating one.

Regardless of the assist level, there is no “speed limiter.” The calipers won’t automatically clamp down on the disc brakes. You can go as fast as you’re capable of on pedal power; you just won’t get any more thrust from the motor beyond the maximum setting. So far, I’ve gotten the Aventure.2 over 29 mph on a moderate downhill.

Aventon Aventure.2 - Headlight On

Aventon Aventure.2 - rear lights with left indicator

Aventon Aventure.2 - LCD Panel

The Aventure.2’s battery also powers an LED lighting package comprised of rear running lights, brake lights, and indicators integrated into the frame just above the rear axle. There is a front headlight, but no front indicators. The headlight and turn signals are operated through the same d-pad control used to adjust e-assist levels and cycle through the trip computer.

The placement of the rear lights looks attractive and seems clever at first glance, but perhaps too clever for their own good. Their low placement can make them difficult for drivers to see and can be further obscured with panniers fitted to the rear rack.

E-bikes really seem to be where two-wheeled electrification makes sense. The overall practicality of this package makes for a legitimate contender as a car/motorcycle alternative for commuting, leisure, and light shopping runs.

The removable and quickly field-swappable battery pack opens a world of options for long-distance rides, as well as simplifying life for those who don’t have easy access to power where the bike is parked. Just pop the battery out, bring it in, and charge it at any regular household outlet. Makes a good theft deterrent too. Who would want to steal an e-bike without its proprietary $500 battery?

Aventon Aventure.2 - Hilltop Sunrise

Aventon Aventure.2 - Steep Descent

Aventon Aventure.2 - Sandhill Crane

The Aventure.2 has given me the ability to go further and explore more of our local trails than I ever could have on foot. Like when I first got my motorcycle, I’ve found myself excited to ride, looking for reasons to take the e-bike out, scouring maps for new trails and different ways to get there.

Riding has given me a new appreciation for the little patch of the Earth I call home. The trails through our local forest and prairie preserves often feel magical, whether a disused old rail line tunneling through a lush green canopy of trees, or a gravel trail snaking its way through a sun-drenched expanse of tall prairie grass and native wildflowers. 

Through riding, I’ve discovered an oasis of calm seclusion hidden right in the midst of our frenzied, chronically connected modern world. I’ve encountered wildlife I never would have otherwise met, watched vibrant hilltop sunrises overlooking mirror-like reservoirs, and snapped pictures that have reignited my interest in photography. I’ve started looking at my surroundings differently, and with a youthful fascination and excitement that this jaded Gen-Xer hasn’t felt in a long time. 

The Aventure.2 is a fascinating dichotomy within itself, striking a charming balance between polar attributes. It accelerates your ability to explore your surroundings while slowing things down enough for you to appreciate them. It’s both cute and capable, welcoming yet rugged, confidently stylish while unpretentiously understated. I find myself grinning while riding it, and queried by smiling strangers curious to learn about it. 

The Aventure.2 is the Suzuki Jimny of e-bikes, and I’m grateful at least one of them is available for purchase in my market. 

We'll Try It

My favorite place in the world is away from civilization. That won't come as a shock to anyone who knows me. But whether it be some dark woods, excruciatingly tall mountains, the vast open deserts, or golden plains, when I get to be alone and experience the natural world around me, I'm happy. 

But I haven't had the chance to indulge in that lately as life has been busy. Parent-teacher conferences, dance recitals, soccer and gymnastics, the endless hours of work I do here to make RideApart the best place on the internet, and countless other pieces of life haven't let me get outside. These are facts of life, ones I signed up for, but they can take a toll on you and your soul after a while. At least, that's the way for me. 

I needed a break. I needed time away. I wanted to stand out on a mountain's knob, stare off into the distance, close my eyes, breathe a deep breath, and exhale, letting my anxieties and fears and tension free. Setting them aloft to make myself lighter. And I got that in the deserts just outside of Las Vegas, a desolate place that further bred my need for adventure and time away from people. A place gorgeous in its starkness.

Yet, I was also reminded that we must still do better in keeping those wild places pristine. I shouldn't have had to pick up a garbage bag's worth of trash. 

I was set into the desert to experience Destination Yamaha's latest foray, an introduction in UTVing with its partner Eagle Rider. The route set us off into the deserts outside of Las Vegas, where newcomers can experience the brand's RMAX Compact UTVs, wild horses, as well as the beautiful desolation of those deserts that surround Sin City. 

Out of town and into the mountains surrounding the Red Rocks National Conservation Area, the route zig-zagged through the mountain's cliffs. The route penned by Eagle Rider gave allowed me to experience sandy washes, steep inclines and declines, big boulder rock crawling, tight canyons, and all the crystal clear blue skies you could ever want. There were wild horses, buzzards, and coyotes yowling in the distance, as well as new and old mines, the tantalizing possibility of a WWII-era crashed plane, and one of the locations for the video game Fallout. 

And there are stops along the way. Stops where you get vistas stretching clear across the horizon. Places where it feels as if you're alone and everything is right in the world. Knobs where I could quiet my mind, close my eyes, listen to the rustling of the wind, and breathe deeply. I could connect with the world around me, ground myself, and clear out those worries and issues I still needed to solve. Push Slack and my email away. I felt lighter again. 

And the whole thing is a brilliant marketing move by Yamaha, as it's way more likely for folks to do this trip and then go look at buying one themselves. It's hard to justify an expensive purchase like a side-by-side these days, what with interest rates being as high as they are, and everyone's lack of disposable income. But when you can experience it firsthand, and do so in a place as beautifully stark as Las Vegas' surrounding wilderness, it's hard not to fork over your money to a Yamaha dealership. 

But an issue kept creeping into my serenity: Trash. 

I want my three kids to enjoy the same wild places I have. I want them to have the ability to go out and explore and get lost and do so for all of their lives. That's why I've been teaching them since they were old enough to talk that whenever we leave the woods, backcountry, or any wild place, "We leave it better." It's something I've drilled into their heads so much, they get mad at people whenever they see trash along trails, at campsites, or anywhere else we visit. It's why they each have their own Tread Lightly!-branded garbage sacks stored in our UTV and why we routinely pull out anywhere from 5 to 10 pounds of trash whenever we go exploring. 

And while the vast majority of folks who come and enjoy the Destination Yamaha route will be captivated by the beautiful scenes, the wild animals, and the history of the landscape in front of them, I kept being distracted by the trash. I will make it clear that it wasn't like we were driving through a garbage dump. Most of the route was pristine. But each place we stopped there were beer cans and broken bottles, leftover plastic bottles and spent ammunition, and other trash littering the landscape. It likely wouldn't bother anyone, but it did bother me. 

In total, our guide from Eagle Rider and I pulled out a full garbage bag's worth of trash. And that'd likely be the case with any off-road trail we visit in nearly every state, so I'm not just picking on Vegas. I just wish people were better stewards of the land, and wanted to note it so maybe it gets through to someone else.

Despite my impromptu clean-up, I enjoyed Destination Yamaha's ride. Any time I can leave the hustle and bustle of daily life and tamper down my anxieties is a good time. And I did quell them. 

I remember one particular spot along the trail vividly. It overlooked Red Rocks in the distance, the high desert sun baking the crimson sediments. The wind whipped through the air, cooling the warm autumn temperatures. We were high up this steep and rocky trail with a valley below us and a rising steppe to the left. And not another soul was around save for our group. The Yamaha's got us there. They got me there. And for the first time in a while, I could breathe.  

So if you need a second to reclaim some sanity, I highly recommend this Destination Yamaha experience. 

To the Outdoors!

Maybe it'll sound a little naive to say this out loud, especially in 2024. But I'll say it anyway, just for giggles: It's nice when it feels like a company whose products you like is listening to what customers want, isn't it?

Far too often, it feels like companies, broadly speaking, are just out to do whatever they think will rake in the most coin for themselves and any shareholders they might have. And yes, I know companies want to make money—of course they do. But I think it's also possible for both companies and their customers to win at the same time.

Indeed, companies can win by inviting their customers to help them improve and then iterating to give customers what they want (well, within reason). Make customers feel like they're being listened to, and that they're improving to meet what customers want. That's how you build brand loyalty. Not by beating everyone over the head with a really terrible, annoying ad involving some singing sitcom stars from 20 years ago at every single commercial break on a given streaming platform.

Annoying people doesn't make them give you money; giving them products with features they want does. And that's why I think that Insta360 has been interesting to see evolve over the past few years. From the time I reviewed the One X2 a few years ago to its most recent 360 camera, the X4, there's been a clear throughline. And it hasn't just been that the company keeps putting out new and/or limited edition versions of its cameras just to put out something new for people to buy.

No, it's steadily been integrating improvements into its products; listening to customer feedback, and making changes to newer versions of things that customers actually want. Imagine that!

For those who haven't used one yet, 360 cameras are cool because they offer you a nearly uninterrupted 360-degree field of view. Sure, if you look carefully, sometimes you can see the stitching. But for most practical purposes, they let you capture everything they can see (obviously, they can't see through or around you or other objects), then choose your point of view in post. 

But because they have big glass bubbles as part of their lenses, it can be easier than you'd like to damage them. And if you damage one (or both), then the point of having a 360 camera in the first place is kind of moot. Suddenly, if you want to replace it, you're out a few hundred dollars.

Now, the One X2 had lens protectors. There were these little stick-on ones that didn't do much, and that users complained about. There was also a much more robust tempered glass premium lens guard system for the One X2,  but because it was essentially a clip-on hinged single unit that clamped over both 360 lenses at once, it also hindered One X2 functionality unless you wanted to take the lens guard off. 

Still, having to pop it off to plug in a USB-C cable sure beats accidentally scratching your lens, right? Right.

Then came the X3, which offered improved image quality and battery life, but didn't offer a robust lens protection solution. I remember having a conversation with another journalist at a press ride once, after the X3 came out, and she was eyeing my X2 and its lens guards a little bit enviously. "I wish the X3 had something like that available," is a rough paraphrase of what she said when I explained that she was looking at an X2 mounted on my handlebars. 

Insta360 BMW Motorrad X4 Limited Edition - Standard Lens Guard Installed

But by the time the X4 launched, Insta360 was back at it with a new, improved lens guard solution. Now, if you buy an X4 (including the BMW Motorrad Limited Edition I'm about to tell you about here), it comes with Standard Lens Guards, but they're not the flimsy, stick-on units seen on the One X2. 

No, instead, they're a clear plastic unit that neatly and reassuringly snicks into place with a standard bayonet-style twist connection. You'll know that they're where they're supposed to be, because you'll hear (and feel) a little click once they lock into place. 

For even more protection, you can purchase the new X4 Premium Lens Guards for an additional charge. Those operate using the same twist-on bayonet connection, but swap out the plastic for tempered glass. Visibility, accessibility to all the buttons and ports on the X4, and protection are all present for owners to enjoy. And that's how you iterate in a customer-inclusive manner. Funnily enough, if I recall correctly, the new Premium Lens Guards for the X4 are priced about the same as the bulkier old unit for the One X2, which is an extra bonus. 

I've already talked about how pleasantly surprised I was at the impressive battery life of the X4 after I took it out for the first time. That's the type of practical, real-world improvement that riders enjoy. Sure, on paper the 8K possibilities are impressive, but how often you'll use it depends on how robust your computer is. We're not quite in an 8K-standard world yet, so while it's a cool party trick, most users will probably find the 4K and 5.7K options more useful for everyday purposes.

But the Insta360 BMW Motorrad X4 Limited Edition brings something else to the party, and it's not just the new paint and graphics on the thermo grip case. What's something that riders unfortunately deal with on a regular basis, especially if you ride on public streets with other traffic?

That's right; you want a dashcam. Maybe not always, but there are definitely a lot of times when it would really come in handy. And now, with the introduction of the Insta360 BMW Motorrad X4 Limited Edition, it gets a brand new Dashcam Mode. 

To be clear, the X4 did previously have a Loop Recording mode. There, you could set it to record in a loop for a set amount of time, like 5 minutes or so, after which time it would automatically stop and record over the footage once your chosen amount of time had elapsed. 

Dashcam Mode works a bit differently, in that it lets you select a percentage of your installed microSD card that you want to dedicate to recording dashcam footage. I got to test a beta version of this firmware update before it was released, and if you watch our video about it on the RideApart YouTube channel, you can see and hear my thoughts on it there.

It's potentially useful, but in practical use, I feel like it needs a few tweaks to really be helpful to riders. In my experience, there were two things I felt could be improved. One has to do with recording functionality on the camera, and the other has to do with editing the resulting footage using the phone app.

Regarding functionality, the Dashcam Mode as tested required me to pull over to stop the recording when an incident occurred that I didn't want to record over. The X4 offers both voice and hand gesture controls for other features, so it would be a no-brainer to see this offered for stopping Dashcam Mode and starting a new file recording, as well. 

As for editing in the phone app, it's something I actually enjoy doing with 360 footage in the Insta360 App. Having used the app for a few years, on multiple mobile (and desktop) devices, and through various software updates, I can say that it, too, has improved mightily over that time.

And here in 2024, I genuinely enjoy using it to edit 360 clips on my phone because of its available Quick Edit Mode. I go into this a bit in my video about Dashcam Mode, but basically you can use your phone to look around whatever the video has recorded from every angle.

In Quick Edit mode, where you point your phone is what's recorded. No need to set tracking targets manually; just point your phone where you want the video to look. It's super intuitive and dead simple, even for a non-video-pro like myself. For some reason, the Dashcam Mode videos I recorded don't offer you this option. Instead, you only have AI and Pro Modes to edit in, and I think that's likely to turn a lot of potential users of this feature off.

If you have an incident on the road and you need to pull footage from certain angles to file an insurance claim or police report, making it as easy as possible seems like the best-case scenario.

When I asked an Insta360 representative about it, they told me that this was a good idea, and that they'd pass it on to their dev team. Given the company's previous history of integrating user suggestions into future updates, I won't be surprised if we see that as an improvement down the line, but it's not currently available at the time of writing.

Insta360 BMW Motorrad X4 Limited Edition - Official Poster from Insta360

There's also talk of an Automatic License Plate Blurring feature coming to the Insta360 app sometime soon, but I haven't been able to test it yet and so can offer no observations. Once I'm able to test it, I'll be sure to add an update to this review, just to keep everything easily accessible in one place. 

One other thing I'll note about the X4, as a camera, is that it does heat up pretty readily. On a motorcycle or other wide-open powersports application (like, say, in/on a UTV/ATV/snowmobile), all the fresh air rushing past it can only help with keeping the unit cool. In more heavily enclosed environments, you may need to take additional precautions to keep it from getting too hot to function properly. That's another reason why 8K recording all the time might look less attractive to users, because that seems to make it heat up more quickly.

Overall, the X4 is probably the most capable 360 camera that Insta360 has made to date. And the BMW Motorrad Limited Edition offers a nice tie-in for BMW Motorrad fans, but also brings Dashcam Mode functionality to the party if that matters to you. It should be rolling out to other X4s in the future, as well, according to Insta360.

What would you like to see in a 360 Dashcam Mode? Are you looking forward to Automatic License Plate Blurring for future motovlogging purposes, or does it not matter to you? Let us know in the comments!

More Gear Reviews

“What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” I thought, looking at the 2025 Can-Am Outlander XT-P 1000R. Do you know how many production ATVs have triple-digit HP figures? 

One. This one. 

I’ve been face-to-face with a lot of crazy machinery throughout my career. I won’t say that riding the world’s fastest production personal watercraft (PWC) or a race-prepped Yamaha YXZ1000R SS around one of the most famous race tracks in the US didn’t dilate my pupils. But at least I knew what I was supposed to do with those machines to put them to the test.

As I hopped on and looked around the densely-packed woodlands of British Columbia for the entrance to a trail, I couldn’t imagine a world where I could open this monster up, or ride it in an exciting way without hitting every tree in the province.

I felt like a baby who’d been given a bazooka. 

Although I wasn’t ripping the Outlander as I learned the trail with one of Can-Am’s brand ambassadors, I very quickly began to see that I possibly could. And, before long, I was. 

But, first, I had to mentally get over the size of it. All 1,000 pounds of it.

Tight Trails

There is no getting around it, when you climb onto the Outlander it’s a bloody beast. And if I had seen the trails before heading out on them, there’s no way I’d have thought myself capable of conquering them on this behemoth. But once I was out there in the group, there was literally no going back, and thankfully so.

I set the 999cc V-twin powerplant’s delivery to Normal mode, so as to hopefully not get caught off-guard by the 101 HP or 69 lb-ft of torque on tap. In case you can’t already tell, I was nervous. I love all powersports, but I think I give ATVs far more respect than any other vehicles because growing up, these are how most of my friends hurt themselves. But this nervousness couldn’t have been more misplaced.

Staring at an off-camber turn that dropped by about four feet, I paused and thought, “Just take it like you know you should, and if it starts to roll, jump.” When I tell you the Outlander didn’t blink, I mean that it felt like it could’ve almost taken the turn without me operating it. And that’s when I realized just how far ATVs had come since I last rode one, and began questioning where this one's limitations were.

Steep elevation and camber changes, along with tight full-lock turns and literal jumps, followed. As things got more difficult, I became even calmer. The trail was physically demanding with so many full-lock turns mixed with flat-out open sections, but since I put the power steering to its easiest setting, my arms weren’t getting tired at all. 

Another movement that’d normally drain me would be loading up the rear tires to get enough traction to make it up some of these slippery inclines. But with 4WD, so much torque on tap, and a new pulley in the CVT that gives about 20% more torque to the rear wheels, I really just had to point and shoot.

For a bazooka, this thing somehow navigated its way through a tight forest untouched, and I doubt I was very much help. But it’s one thing lugging this beast around a relatively tight trail, and another entirely when you get onto a fast, sweeping gravel road. 

Thank God for Sway Bars

The next treat Can-Am had in store for me was the open road, well, a gravel road. And after becoming comfortable on the Outlander XT-P 1000R through the trails earlier in the day, I was giddy to open it up and find its limitations.

There’s so much initial torque—rolling burnouts on tap on pavement kind of torque—that you don’t expect what’s waiting for you high in the rev range. That’s where Can-Am has hidden the XT-P 1000R’s industry-leading 101 HP. So, even though I’d flicked it into Sport mode, when I was expecting the power output to calm down, it only got more intense.

This thing will get from 0-60 mph in 5.9 seconds, so when our group was making its way up these relatively fast gravel roads at anywhere between 20-40 mph, deciding to drift was just that—a decision. And it all started with little blips.

A blip here, a blip there, and before too long, I was in full opposite lock wondering if three or four wheels were in contact with the ground. I can say categorically, that there’s no way I’d have gotten this comfortable so quickly unless the Outlander XT-P 1000R had front and rear sway bars.

It sounds strange to say, but at times this thing handled like a car. I mean, that tipping point that you feel when you lean too far back on a chair, the one that sometimes comes on ATVs, well, it never came. That’s partially down to the sway bars and also a new chassis design—this generation of Outlander is about 95% new. But, the change that likely kept me right side up was the new double A-arm system that replaced the old torsion trailing arm.

Without getting into the nitty gritty of physics, the new double A-arm system keeps the ATV’s actual center of gravity closer to the rolling center of gravity when rounding a bend. This along with the Fox suspension all round is what prevents that moment of tipping-point anxiety when you throw the Outlander into a fast corner. 

By the end of my time with the Outlander, I dared to wonder how good I could get at drifting if I had one for a while, and I thought the same about jumping. 

Utility By Name, Not By Nature

There’s something disconcerting about jumping a vehicle, which is basically made for one person, that weighs about half a ton. It’s like jumping the heaviest Harley you can find. And those uneasy feelings are multiplied when there’s a gap to jump over—come up short and you’re straight over the handlebars. But when it came time to jump the Outlander XT-P 1000R, I wasn’t even sure that I’d gotten air, that’s how smooth the landing was.

I went back to the photographer to make sure that I was actually in the air, and he assured me I was. And he wasn't lying. But that’s how good the FOX† 1.5 Podium† QS3 shocks are, with the front having 10.8 inches of travel, while there are 12 inches on offer at the rear. These shocks, which you can adjust with the turn of a clicker, combined with the way the negative camber works with the double A-arm suspension make for eerily stable landings.

Again, this thing is a bazooka, and everything we threw at it was treated as childsplay. 

So much power, so much cornering ability, and performance suspension—if the Outlander XT-P 1000R didn’t look like it could invade a country, you’d swear it was an overweight sports ATV. In fact, I think it is. 

Sport ATVs are more or less dead, save for Yamaha’s Raptor. But it doesn’t feel right to call the Outlander XT-P 1000R a “utility ATV”. Yes, it’ll tow up to 1,830 lbs. But it’ll also drift around corners at 40-plus mph before happily becoming airborne. Hell, it’ll get to 60 mph just half a second after a Subaru BRZ.

The ATV For Me

I lost a lot of interest in ATVs a long time ago when the sporty models were dying off one by one. I get them as a utility vehicle, in fact, they probably make more sense as utility vehicles than UTVs for lots of folks. But it’s hard to see where they fit into a gearhead’s life—my life. Yet, the Outlander XT-P 1000R made me get, and even want, an ATV again.

The last thing my group did was go on a golden hour ride to the top of a mountain. It took about 45 minutes and had just about every type of terrain you could imagine, from shale to jumps and natural sections of whoops. In a truck, this would’ve been hell. On the Outlander XT-P 1000R, it was an adrenaline junkie’s heaven and highlighted its sporting prowess and capability. The way back down showed the vehicle’s other side.

With the engine braking mode on full and a gel seat to relax into, I was able to make my way down the mountain in a relaxed state and think about who’d benefit from spending $20,199 on an Outlander XT-P 1000R. And here it is.

If you’re just looking for a utility vehicle, save thousands and get one. If you need a utility vehicle and also have access to land that you can rally across, and want to rally across, the Outlander XT-P 1000R will let you do all that with just one vehicle. It’s an ATV for those of us who don’t mind taking it easy when work calls, but want to be able to annihilate terrain on a whim with child-like exuberance. 

It’s for the babies who want bazookas. 

Four Wheels And Dirty

Lazy, boring, and impractical.

Three things I want absolutely nothing to do with when riding a motorcycle, and three things I tend to associate with cruisers. Now, before you Harley die-hards come at me with pitchforks, hear me out.

I live in Metro Manila, one of the most densely populated cities in the world, and a city with some of the heaviest traffic on the face of this blue Earth. As such, a low-slung cruiser with a wide turning radius and massive engine simply doesn’t make sense to me. And given the fact that I ride on a near-daily basis, a light and nimble scooter, as well as a sporty and engaging naked sportbike, seem like the perfect duo of bikes for me.

There’s a place for cruisers anywhere in the world. Here in the Philippines, the wide open freeways are the perfect proving ground for massive cruisers, especially on fine Sunday mornings when traffic’s incredibly light. But in tight city traffic and twisty mountain roads? Maybe not so much.

And so, when Royal Enfield invited me to test out the new Shotgun 650 on the twisty mountain roads of Real, Quezon, I must admit that I wasn’t too hot about it. Nonetheless, I thought to myself, why not? After all, I just turned 30, and maybe it was time for me to develop a more mature taste in motorcycles. Plus, it’s a new bike and a bunch of my friends were gonna be there, so I might as well make the most of the trip, right?

And as the bike was revealed, it became clear that this thing wasn’t your ordinary cruiser, and it wasn’t just any other Royal Enfield, either.

This thing’s pretty big on customization, with a wide selection of official Royal Enfield accessories and upgrades. You can slap on engine guards, auxiliary lights, and a bunch of luggage and turn it into a laid-back tourer. You can swap out the wheels and tires, and fit a lower handlebar and turn it into a sporty canyon carver. Or, you can leave it as is, and gradually add your own upgrades and accessories as you see fit. Really, the sky’s the limit.

And when time came to swing a leg over it and take it for a spin, I must say that this thing changed the way I think about cruisers.

Lazy, boring, and impractical. Three things that, surprisingly, do not define the Shotgun 650. Let me explain why.

Lazy

Having ridden other Enfield cruisers like the Classic 350 and Super Meteor 650 in the past, I was expecting the Shotgun 650 to feel similar. And while it retains the same heavy-feeling build quality like many other Royal Enfields, the Shotgun is actually surprisingly nimble. And I think it all boils down to the ergonomics.

You see, when compared to the Super Meteor 650, the Shotgun is far sportier thanks to its mid-mounted controls and lower handlebar. It puts you in a slightly hunched over stance, giving you a good field of view of what’s ahead of you. The mid controls, in particular, allow you to grip the tank with your knees a little better, giving you some leverage to take corners at a higher speed than you normally would on a bike like this. In fact, I might’ve gotten a bit too carried away, as the demo bike assigned to me had run out of footpeg feelers by the time I got back to the resort.

Boring

So yeah, the Shotgun 650 definitely isn’t boring, especially when you’ve got a practically empty mountain road all to yourself. Its air-cooled 270-degree parallel-twin engine sings a beautiful song, making all the right gurgles and crackles.

It has just enough power and torque to get you up to a spirited pace, but not enough to get you in trouble, either. It feels very similar in performance to smaller bikes—think the Honda Rebel 500 or Kawasaki Eliminator, so it could very well be a beginner-friendly bike.

Impractical

And when it comes to practicality, well, as I mentioned earlier, the Shotgun 650 comes with a wide selection of upgrades and accessories, all of which serve one purpose or another. Whether it’s for protection, comfort, performance, practicality, or looks, there are endless ways to personalize this thing.

Heck, it even comes with an optional pillion seat for folks looking to ride two-up. All this adds up to a pretty versatile machine, if you ask me.

Now, I don’t think the Royal Enfield Shotgun 650 has done enough to make me consider owning a cruiser, but it sure has made me look at cruisers from a different perspective. The years I’ve spent riding have almost always been around performance-oriented machines; liter-class superbikes, hyper-naked bikes, sport-tourers, and adventure bikes. And I must admit that I didn’t really pay attention to cruisers because I thought they were lazy, boring, and not that good at doing anything.

But the Shotgun 650 made me realize that it doesn’t always have to be about performance. Sure, if I joined a group ride with R1s, CBRs, and Panigales with this thing, I’d be left in the dust, all alone, and probably bored as hell. But with the right company and on the right roads, this thing is actually pretty fun.

So, would I ever consider owning a bike like the Royal Enfield Shotgun 650? Maybe not now. But perhaps in a decade or so, I’ll have one sitting in my garage.

You Read It From Us

Where I grew up in Ireland, there was a very easy backdoor entry into off-road driving. OK, that’s a massive stretch. Teenagers used to buy retired postal vans (Renault Kangoos) and drive them until the wheels literally, sometimes figuratively, came off. This all happened on bog land. 

And, in some ways, it was great. But in most (all) ways it was illegal.

On the upside, teenagers got to learn about what it was like to manually shift through a gearbox and experience how a vehicle reacts when there’s almost no traction, making them somewhat competent behind the wheel before they even had a driver's license. On the downside, there were bits of, and sometimes entire Kangoos, scattered across bogs. 

Oh, yeah, and it wasn’t the safest thing to do, but the Kangoos rarely got up to much speed.

When I tested Yamaha’s latest YXZ1000R SS XT-R on some fun off-road trails, and a modified YXZ1000R SS around Crandon race track, I couldn’t help but think back to rallying Renaults around bog land. Except I learned so much more about off-road driving, and although it was much faster, I felt a lot safer. 

Driving Yamaha’s latest side-by-sides was everything I’d hoped driving around bog land would’ve been when I was a teenager. The YXZ1000R SS XT-R is a backdoor entry school for off-road driving, and when you’re ready, it turns into a supersport-style racer.

Gaining Confidence 

Crandon Airport has to be the most relaxing and easiest airport in the country, yet I still landed feeling equal parts nervous and excited. I knew that this was definitely going to be the fastest and most extreme side-by-side test I’d done. Knowing that invited a level of tension, but the YXZ had a trick up its sleeve to quell that, even in less-than-ideal conditions.

It had rained so much the night before that we weren’t sure if we could ride on the Crandon International Off-Road Raceway, so although we could drive the XT-R on the nearby off-road trail, you can imagine how slippery the conditions were even there. I wasn’t there to go slow, but the trail was pretty diverse, consisting of a mixture of flat-out fast sections and tight, rutted turns.

At no point did I know what was coming next during my first few laps, making this the perfect time to test out the YXZ100R’s least aggressive automatic shifting mode: Auto.

Auto is as simple as it sounds, it shifts for you automatically. But these shifts are more relaxed, as it short shifts, and never nears the YXZ’s 10,500 RPM limiter. The engine didn’t lure me like the devil on my shoulder that I’m so often, easily led by. It didn’t produce a sonic attack on my ears in the cabin. It was like a free pass to go slow, survey the track, and get to know the machine.

Sometimes being encouraged to take it slowly and get familiar with the fundamentals of what you’re doing is exactly what you need. This is the start of the backdoor entry school to off-roading.

Turning Up The Pace

Auto was by no means slow if you mashed your foot to the floor but, before long, I was ready to progress to Sport Auto. This mode still shifts automatically but will hold the revs all the way to redline or drop gears when necessary to keep you in the peak of the meat. But having a direct connection to the machine via a manual transmission is what intrigued me about the YXZ1000R versus its competitors, so it was going to take a stellar performance from the Sport Auto mode to stop me from just opting to use the manual transmission all the time.

“Ask and you shall receive” is what the YXZ would’ve said to me if it could make any other noise than that of a howling triple.

I did a better job navigating the diverse off-road trail in Sport Auto than I ever would have by shifting manually. It shifted up when I would have and it shifted down when I needed it to, no matter how harshly or unexpectedly I applied the brakes or throttle. Since there was no chance of me intimately learning more than a few sections of the vast trail, I was faster, more confident, and most importantly having more fun in Sport Auto than if I was in Sport Shift (full manual using paddles).

As I became more comfortable in the YXZ1000R, I found myself loving an open, flat part of the trail that invited four-wheel drifts, and this was the only time I found myself preferring Sport Shift to Sport Auto. Sport Auto was upshifting, as it should, right before I was bouncing off the limiter. But I wanted to bounce and slide and keep that triple howling to indulge the devil on my shoulder. 

Now, think back to when I was pottering around the trail in Auto. After learning my bearings in Auto, I was rallying in Sport Auto, before finding spots where I could let it all hang out in Sport Shift. This is what the YXZ’s backdoor entry school to off-roading looks like, and I was graduating.

If any of you were worried that the inclusion of automatic shifting modes on the YXZ1000R SS would dull the YXZ’s edge, fear not. It’s exactly as it sounds: inclusion. Yamaha hasn’t made a softer, cushier version of the YXZ, but included more features while making it even more capable in experienced hands.

More Hardcore

The 29-inch Yamaha-exclusive Maxxis Carnage tires locked in by beadlock rims on the XT-R demolished the path ahead, even as ruts became increasingly deeper throughout the day. The 4WD system in combination with these tires simply hooked and ripped even around the tightest, most nadgery parts of the trail. As for the suspension, well, I couldn’t fault it on the trail, and when you know what it’s packing that’s understandable.

There are Fox 2.5 Podium RC2 shocks on all four corners. At the front, you get 16.2 inches of travel and that goes up to 17 inches at the rear. The suspension was so capable that I had no need to tweak it, but those who like to tune can get to work on the fully adjustable spring preload, dual-spring-rate adjustable crossovers, rebound and both high- and low-speed compression damping. 

I couldn’t find any jumps on the trail, but there was a huge braking bump that preceded a sharp left-hand turn. As I’ve said before, anything hit fast enough becomes a jump. 

I launched it on one of my last runs, blew the next turn, but not the suspension. Nothing about this jump was skillful and I was fully ready for a decent jolt up my backside, but the YXZ1000R more or less laughed it off.

But once Crandon International Off-Road Raceway began to dry out, I got to see what these machines were capable of, albeit with around $10,000 worth of aftermarket parts to make them suitable to tackle such an extreme track. This is where Sport Shift shined. 

As the track dried out and conditions changed, so did the optimal lines. Having total control over gear selection was key when figuring out what line was best. And if you wanted to have a blast with total disregard for lap times, the ability to manually shift was even more crucial. 

I launched those YXZ1000Rs and didn’t make a dent, but they had upgrades, so I needed to head to the rock section of Crandon’s Ultra4 course to find where the standard YXZ1000R XT-R’s limitations might lie. 

Rock Crawling

Rock crawling an Ultra4 course isn’t the first thing that comes to mind when you see the YXZ1000R XT-R. It’s probably not even on the list. And as I sat at the bottom of what looked like a 30-foot wave made of boulders, I hadn’t a bloody clue how this mid-size sporty side-by-side was supposed to get to the top.

My nervousness showed, and instead of crawling, I sprinted. But once I got to the top, I felt like I’d done such a disservice to the engineering that’d gone into this model for 2025. 

First gear is a staggering 40% lower than the previous model, specifically so that if you happen to come across a massive boulder field in the YXZ1000R, you won’t need to sprint. You can get technical and take advantage of all the power and traction on tap in first gear.

So, I asked if I could do the rock crawl again, this time with the intention of taking my time and tactically choosing my line. I had never been rock crawling prior to this, and the YXZ1000R made me look like I knew what I was doing. But it didn’t spoon-feed to the top, quite the opposite.

This model has the tools to do the job, will give you the confidence to do it, and take you most of the way, but to finish the job you need to be involved. The people who want to know their input was the deciding factor in the experience will get more enjoyment out of the YXZ1000R than any other model in this class.

You Know If It’s For You

I get what draws people to the YXZ1000R SS, and apparently, that’s because I’m exactly the type of person who would be. While chatting to the engineers behind the YXZ1000R, they told me many of the people who buy this model are motorcyclists, and the fact that you can manually shift gears is what draws us in. 

I can’t disagree. I’ve never cracked nearly as much fun out of a side-by-side with a CVT.

It’s not just like a motorcycle, it’s specifically like a supersport 600cc track weapon of old (RIP Yamaha R6). It wants to scream, that’s the nature of its 998cc inline-three-cylinder engine, and if you’re not wailing on it, you’re not getting rewarded. But unlike the supersports of old, you can learn with this machine using its Auto, Sport Auto, and Sport Shift modes. They let you work your way up, and reward you along the way.

This is not the UTV for everyone, though.

It’s fast, exciting, and sharp but it yearns for someone who’s willing to put in the effort. If you just want to put your foot down and watch the world warp, regardless of the terrain you’re on, there are better (much more expensive) machines for it. But for a starting price of $20,899 and $23,699 (as tested), this is arguably the most engaging, exciting side-by-side you’ll get.

Side-By-Side Shenanigans

Ever since I started riding, I’ve been a big fan of full-face helmets. Generally speaking, I won’t even ride to the gas station without one. And considering that I have been dragged across my face in a crash once, but managed to walk away uninjured because I was wearing just such a helmet, I consider it a pretty good choice on my part. 

Modular helmets make a ton of sense, though, depending on the kind of riding you’re doing. From the ease of chatting with riding buddies at stops to being able to simply pop your chin bar up over your head to run inside a convenience store for a bathroom key or a snack, there are so many scenarios where having to take your helmet all the way off and then put it all the way back on again are less than ideal.

Sure, they have a reputation for being noisier than a nice full-face helmet. But if you also tend to wear earplugs on your rides (and if you value your hearing, you should, because wind noise is no joke), I don’t necessarily feel like it matters all that much. 

But what if you also want to do all kinds of modern things with your modular helmet? Like, say, listen to music and have it sound good, take navigation instructions from your app or GPS unit of choice in your ears, and/or chat with your buddies via Bluetooth or MESH comms? 

That’s where the Sena Impulse modular comes into play. While you could, of course, install your favorite Sena comms unit (or one from a competitor) in any modular helmet you want, the Sena Impulse is meant to simplify things so you don’t have to mess around. It’s a one-stop solution that comprises a modular helmet with a Sena 50S comms unit already built in.

Features on the helmet include a drop-down sun visor, Pinlock-ready clear visor, plush removable cheek and head pads, and a micrometric quick-release closure that seems pretty secure, even if you tug hard on it. To open it, you have to press the red lever down. Skip that step, and the thing doesn’t seem to want to budge—which is how it should be. I haven’t crashed in this helmet, so I can’t say for sure how well it would hold in such a situation, but the fact that I can’t simply pull it apart seems encouraging.

In the box, you’ll find a helmet sock, the appropriate Pinlock shield that fits this visor (which you’ll have to install yourself; a normal occurrence for most Pinlock inserts), the proprietary USB cable that you’ll need to charge your helmet, and an inflatable Sena helmet donut that you’ll be glad you have when it’s time to charge the thing. 

Yes, You Have To Charge Your Entire Helmet

Honestly, that’s my least favorite thing about this helmet: the fact that you have to plug the entire thing in any time you want to charge the comms unit.

If you have a comms unit that mounts on the outside of your helmet, you can usually just pop it off and plug it in wherever. It’s simple, it’s easy, and it doesn’t require either a great deal of counter space—or thought, really. You just do it. The light turns blue (if it’s a Sena, anyway) when it’s ready, you take it off the charging cable, and you pop it back on your helmet. No worries.

Not so with the Sena Impulse, except for the blue light part once it’s fully charged. Because the comms unit is built into the helmet, you can’t just pop it off and plug it in independently. Instead, you have to use the proprietary USB cable, which is a little magnetic thing that would be a nightmare to lose. 

Also, because this cable attaches to the helmet magnetically rather than plugging in, and the port is located on the base of the helmet near the back of your neck if you’re wearing it, that means the ideal position to charge your helmet is upside down. If you were wondering why Sena would give you an inflatable helmet donut with this helmet, here’s your answer.

If that’s not a deal-breaker for you, though, the Sena Impulse isn’t a bad helmet to wear or to use. Obviously, your mileage will vary on both those points. Not everyone’s head is the same size or shape, and different helmets fit different people comfortably. I have a round earth head shape, and I found the suggested measurements to be accurate when selecting the proper size Impulse for my head. 

The speakers, provided by Harman Kardon, sound great, particularly if you’re a fan of listening to music on your rides. Navigation comes through clearly, as well. The first few rides out, I did experience a sound issue with Bluetooth comms between myself and my partner, who was using an older Sena Bluetooth comms unit. While everything sounded good on my end, he had nothing but crackly, loud comms where my voice was barely audible.

We tried cleaning the contacts on his BT unit, where it snicks into place on the base plate. That didn’t help. 

But then, I tried playing with the settings on the Impulse via the Sena Motorcycles phone app and that seemed to do the trick. Very specifically, I had to switch the HD Audio toggle to “Off,” (by default, it’s switched On) to get it to sound decent. It seems a bit counterintuitive, but it worked. Sound quality issues were then resolved, and we’ve been able to communicate on multiple rides ever since, for months now. 

He’s also got a different comms unit on one helmet, provided by Midland. After following their instructions, we were successfully able to get it and the Sena Impulse to pair. It’s a bit of a fiddly process, but it will do the job that you want, as long as you have the patience. 

I’ve been riding untold miles on multiple bikes with the Sena Impulse for months now, both rain and shine. One thing I particularly like about it is that the lowest visor detent is exactly where I want it when I want to crack it open for a little bit of additional airflow. That might seem like a small thing, and it probably is, but if you’ve ever had a detent put the bottom of your visor right where the wind is going to hit you in the eyes, then you know it’s a definite mark in the plus column.

If you’re ever trying to store the Sena Impulse in a pannier, you’ll appreciate its lack of external comms unit bulge. There’s also no need to worry about accidentally banging up a base plate for an external comms unit if you take it off, either. So there’s that.

The one significant issue I’ve had over the months that I’ve been riding with the Sena Impulse was the time that it randomly unpaired with my phone. The re-pairing process was much more difficult and frustrating than it should have been, mostly due to incorrect instructions in the Sena Motorcycles phone app at the time. I wrote about that entire situation here, but I’ll also add that we did eventually manage to resolve the issue.

Since re-pairing the Impulse with my phone, I’ve used navigation, made phone calls, and listened to music in the Impulse while riding. After not having listened to music in this helmet for over a month, I have to say, it was a particularly nice treat to experience again. It truly sounds fantastic, no matter what kind of music you’re into. Almost good enough to want to be a complete weirdo at your desk, wearing a helmet while you type instead of normal headphones like most other people slogging away at their computers. The Harman Kardon speakers remain fantastic (they’re also quite good in the Forcite MK1S that I had on loan for a review a while back).

Am I ever going to love plugging an entire helmet in every time I need to charge the comms unit (which was, to be completely fair, also a thing with the aforementioned MK1S)? Probably not. 

But if that’s not an absolute dealbreaker for you, it’s functionally quite a good and comfortable helmet, and the sound is great if you like listening to music. As long as your helmet and the app are successfully paired, it’s a nice experience. 

At the time of writing, the MSRP on the Sena Impulse is US $599, and the color selection is very limited (solid matte black and gloss white are basically it), with no graphic options available. However, that does also make these an ideal canvas if you were to, say, want to put some custom paint on your Sena Impulse.

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