The motorcycling world has one truth: Everyone loves to make their motorcycle their own. No matter the category, no matter the rider's personal views, no matter the state, country, or locale, it's the tie that binds us all. Even more so than the camaraderie of enjoying two wheels. 

Why? Because we're individuals and our motorcycles are mirrors to our individual tastes, loves, and passions. Even among singular categories, no two motorcycles are the same. Hell, even among the same make and models, you'd never find the same bike in the same configuration, as even the most protestant of motorcyclists has to inevitably leave their fingerprints somehow on their motorcycles. 

But few motorcycle manufacturers offer the level of customization directly from the factory, and from a singular lineup, as Harley-Davidson's 2025 Softails. These are, by far, the most custom off-the-shelf motorcycles in existence. And no matter the whim of the rider, there's a Softail for you. 

Seriously.

There are gadgets and gizmos aplenty, whosits and whatsits galore. Wait, wrong crowd.

But the idea presented in that classic Disney song accurately describes the Softail lineup. Do you want technology? You can have it. Do you want a skinny tire bagger or some fat tire bar hopper? Harley has you covered. How about a bobber ready to cruise on over to your favorite overlook? Yeah, that's available to you. And all of these are available directly from the factory and before you even crack open the brand's 800-page accessories book, as there are five models to start your dream build from. 

What's cool about the new Softails, however, is that while they are absolutely blank canvases for all of us to put our own personal touches on, they're also ready from the factory to just ride, too. You don't have to touch them if you don't want to, as the five models are so diametrically opposed to one another, and speak to different riders, you could ride them right off the showroom floor and most folks would likely assume you had modified them. 

They're also not the most expensive cruisers around, as they start at a pretty reasonable $17,199 for a Street Bob. I'd, personally, go for the Lowrider ST which commands a slightly higher $24,199 MSRP if I had the money, but that motorcycle is the sort of menancing coolness I absolutely adore in a cruiser. But again, that's the beauty of the Softails. They're ready to become yours, however you want. 

You can hear more of my thoughts in the video above from my first ride review. Also, don't forget to like, subscribe, and share the video as RideApart is back on YouTube and we've got big plans for the platform. 

The Motor Co. News

Today's truck market is, well, insane. Even something like my Honda Ridgeline is nearing $50,000, and there are those who wouldn't even consider it a truck. And that's largely because full-size and heavy-duty trucks cost so freakin' much to buy, maintain, and fix when things go badly. 

It's honestly no wonder that more and more counties and states across the country are implementing new road-legal laws surrounding side-by-sides. It's more cost-effective for those who are needing something like a truck for farm, ranch, or outfitter work. 

But as truck prices seemingly don't have any signs of coming back to Earth, that's left a gap in the market that a utility side-by-side can fill, especially one as capable as the 2025 Kawasaki Ridge Crew, a four- to six-person UTV that's as capable as your 1995 Ford Ranger, built tougher than that OG work truck, and won't put you in the poor house if you throw a full grown elk into the back of it. 

At least that's my thoughts after thoroughly putting it through its paces at the Ranch at Rock Creek in Montana last month. 

My day consisted of a full-blown snowstorm, a plow demonstration, stacking a handful of hay bales in the bed (not the best way to test its payload rating, TBH), and driving it through some seriously rutted, snowy terrain as we tracked a herd of elk along the spine of some mountains—I wish I had the Christensen Arms Ridgeline FFT in 7 PRC I'm building with me that'll be featured in these very pages next month. 

We also employed its standard Warn winch, and used its awesome HVAC system, which I cannot overstate how nice it is. Seriously, when the temperatures kept fluctuating between bitter cold to whiteout conditions, then properly sunny, all within a few hours of each other, having the ability to close the windows, use defrost, and turn up the heat felt like a godsend to those who have to go into the elements day in and day out. 

Full stop, if I were working outside every day, I wouldn't have purchased my Can-Am Maverick X3 Max, but instead something with a freakin' enclosed cab. But enough written words, click the video above to hear me talk more about the new 2025 Kawasaki Ridge Crew, what's offered, what's available, and more about what I think of the new side-by-side. 

Team Green for Lyfe

I recently had the pleasure of riding Triumph's 2025 Speed Twin 1200 and Speed Twin 1200 RS in Majorca, Spain. I was hot off the launch of Yamaha's MT-09 SP and trying to wrap my head around why anyone would buy the standard model, unless, of course, they were completely stretched for cash. But this wasn't the case with Triumph's latest modern-retro motorcycles. 

After spending the day swapping between both motorcycles, it became clear that the RS model wasn't simply better in every way, as most high-spec variants are. The RS is better in many ways, depending on what you want from your bike or what type of riding you do.

But those who can be totally honest with themselves about what they'll do on their bike might find that the standard Speed Twin 1200 is better for them.

The standard model has a more comfortable riding position, tires that heat up more quickly, and softer suspension. The bike lends itself to being ridden in the way you imagine someone would want to ride a modern retro motorcycle. On the flip side, its RS sibling has much sportier tires in the Metzeler Racetec RR K3s, a sportier riding position that puts you more over the front end, Ohlins rear shocks, Brembo Stylema calipers, and a Sport mode that makes the throttle response more aggressive.

The question is: are you going to ride this modern retro aggressively enough to get the benefit from the sporty features on the RS, or will they detract from your everyday riding and bank account to the sum of $2,500? I'm not sure if I ever truly got those Metzeler Racetec RR K3s up to their ideal working temperatures on the roads around Majorca, but that doesn't mean this bike doesn't have a place in the niche—far from it.

The reality is, the RS has the shiny parts we want and conjures images of the type of riding that we want to do, but whether we'll actually ride like that is another story entirely, and when there's $2,500 on the line, that's a valid concern. But, I need that Baja Orange paint scheme, that much I know.

Watch the video and let us know what Speed Twin you want and what one you need, and if they're the same model.

Modern Retro

Socks are socks, right? Wrong! Socks aren't just socks. They're a part of nearly everything we do in a given day. They protect our feet from blisters, from pulling out the insoles of our shoes, they provide cushion and moisture-wicking when we're hard at work—or hard at play—and they can make or break a day out riding. 

That might sound weird, but I'm particular about my socks because I've had terrible experiences with some. I've seen socks shred after only a handful of uses. I've seen them give me blisters the size of silver dollar pancakes. And I've had them fall down my moto boots while out blitzing trails, as happened when I went on my backcountry trial of my Lord and Savior, the Royal Enfield Himalayan 450. 

So socks aren't just socks. 

That's why when I find a good pair of socks, which is rare, I tend to get a couple pairs. And recently, I found such a pair when prepping for a few stories that'll hit RideApart in the coming weeks and months. Funnily enough, they aren't from Alpinestars or Dainese or any of the big moto apparel brands. They're from the hiking company Meindl, and the specific ones are the MT6 Mid-Weight Merino Wool Hiking Socks from the brand. 

If you ride, you should buy a pair. Or three. Your feet will thank me later. 

Merino Wool is the key to these socks' success, as it wicks away sweat—and I sweat a lot—is cushy right out of the box, and even after a number of washes, and have enough elasticity to stay up on your calves even when you're putting them to the test. I've now worn these socks with my new Meindl hunting boots, my Altra trail runners, and a handful of different moto boots, and they've been perfect all the way through. 

"These are our go-to socks when traveling light and fast on the trail, or simply knocking around in the outdoors," says Meindl about the MT6s, adding, "These 10" tall, 3mm thick, 3-ounce technical trekking socks are designed and built with Meindl's legendary quality and attention to detail. Made with two-layer construction that combines just enough Merino Wool to get all the soft, moisture-wicking and odor-absorbing benefits and an organic bioceramic yarn that helps wick away moisture and regulate temperature of your feet."

Basically, the socks are designed for heavy, hard use in the rigors of the outdoors, making them perfect for off-road motorcycling or just regular motorcycling in general. 

See, despite being great at keeping your feet safe, motorcycle boots, shoes, and full-size ADV boots aren't really designed for comfort. It's a weird thing to say, but the fit and fitment is there to encase your foot if you fall off your bike. That means that there's room where there shouldn't be, no room where there should, and the overall fit isn't the best for everyone's feet. And so, when you throw on some socks, you tend to find yourself adjusting them mid-ride or cursing the heavens that they're now balled up beneath your heel. These, somehow, don't do that. 

Maybe I'm still in the honeymoon phase of our relationship. Maybe they'll fall apart after another couple of months. But I don't think they will. As I've said in these pages before, I'm incredibly awful to my gear. Engineers fear me and my hatred toward using things for their intended purpose and their intended purpose alone. Yet, these socks have given me exactly what I've been looking for in a sock; a sock that does it all. 

Doesn't hurt that they're only $25 a pair either. 

Gear You Can Actually Use

Let's talk scooters.

In places like Europe and Asia, scooters are practically a way of life. They're affordable, efficient, easy to ride, and small enough to zip through traffic and park just about anywhere. They make a ton of sense in crowded cities where roads are tight and fuel is expensive. Over here in the Philippines, scooters are pretty much the kings of the road. They're everywhere—from delivery riders and students to parents running errands and office workers in button-downs weaving through traffic.

And honestly, it's starting to make sense to more Americans, too. Scooter sales have quietly been rising in the US over the past few years. With gas prices fluctuating and more folks living in cities, people are finally seeing what the rest of the world has known for decades: you don't need a gas-guzzling truck or SUV to get around.

But let's be real—a scooter is a scooter. They'll all get you from point A to point B without much drama. So what actually sets one apart from another?

It's the looks.

That's why there's so much hype surrounding Vespa. It's more than just a scooter—it's a statement. The brand carries this aura of Italian cool and timeless design that people love. But that style comes at a cost. In the US, a new, fully optioned Vespa Primavera can easily run over $5,000. And in developing countries like the Philippines, that's just not realistic for most folks. It's hard to justify spending that much on a 125cc scooter, no matter how pretty it is.

This is where the Honda Giorno+ enters the picture.

This definitely isn't your cheap, run-of-the-mill scooter.

It's Honda's answer to the whole "I want a retro scooter that looks great but doesn't cost a fortune" problem. And while it's not sold in the US (at least for now), it's been making waves here in Southeast Asia—and for good reason.

Let's rewind for a sec. The Giorno name has been around for a while. In fact, Honda has sold a scooter called the Giorno in various markets for years, but the Giorno+ is a new-ish 125cc model designed primarily for markets like Thailand, Vietnam, and the Philippines. It takes that same old-school Vespa-inspired design and wraps it around practical, reliable, and wallet-friendly Honda engineering.

Now, for readers in the US, you can get something close—the Honda Metropolitan. It shares a similar retro style, but it's a 50cc scooter with way less power and utility. It's cute, sure, but the Giorno+ is just... more scooter.

Powering the Giorno+ is Honda's advanced 125cc, four-stroke, four-valve, SOHC, liquid-cooled eSP+ engine. This setup delivers a maximum power output of 11 horsepower at 8,750 rpm and peak torque of 8.5 pound-feet at 5,250 rpm. This means the Giorno+ offers brisk acceleration (compared to a 50cc scoot), making it adept at navigating through city traffic with ease.

It gets retro styling that's clearly inspired by a certain Italian manufacturer

An LED headlight ensures optimal visibility even in low light conditions.

But this isn't a scooter you ride to go fast. It's a scooter you ride to enjoy the world around you. It's relaxed. Friendly. It reminds you to take things slow and soak in your surroundings.

And it's practical, too. Under the seat, there's a generous 30-liter storage compartment, ample enough for a helmet or your daily essentials. There's also a convenient hook between your knees to hang a grocery bag, backpack, or even a takeout order. The LED lighting system enhances visibility, ensuring you're seen during night rides. The seat? Super comfortable for city riding.

When it comes to stopping power, there's no fancy ABS here. Instead, Honda employs its Combi Brake System (CBS), which distributes braking force between the front and rear wheels, ensuring stable and safe stops even during sudden braking. It's simple but effective—especially for new riders who might not be used to separate front and rear brakes.

Honestly though, the spec sheet isn't what makes the Giorno+ special. Like most scooters in this category, it's intentionally straightforward. There's no TFT display, no riding modes, no traction control. What you're really paying for is style. And in that department, the Giorno+ absolutely shines.

The fuel filler cap is hidden behind a panel on the apron which slides aside with the flip of a switch.

All the controls are easily accessible on the switch cluster on the front apron

The bodywork is curvy and elegant without being overdone. The paint options are clean and premium-looking. There are neat little chrome accents, a sleek LED headlight, and even a flat, vintage-style floorboard. It's not trying too hard—it just looks right. Put it next to almost any other budget scooter and it immediately stands out.

And hey, it's a Honda. That means you're getting bulletproof reliability and easy maintenance. These things are built to survive potholes, rainstorms, and years of daily abuse without breaking a sweat. I've seen similar Honda and Yamaha scooters with upwards of 100,000 kilometers on them still purring like kittens.

But here's the kicker. In the Philippines, the Honda Giorno+ sells for P101,900—that's just under $2,000 USD. For a beautifully styled, reliable, and practical scooter that'll likely outlast you and your grandkids. That's pretty insane value to me.

It kinda makes you wonder why Honda hasn't brought it to the US yet. Sure, the scooter market isn't as big there, but with the growing popularity of urban mobility and retro-styled bikes, the Giorno+ would be a hit in places like New York, LA, or Miami.

Until that happens, though, you'll just have to admire it from afar. Or, you know, plan a trip to Southeast Asia and rent one for a few days. Trust me—it's worth it.

So yeah, while most Americans are still catching on to the scooter lifestyle, the rest of the world's already cruising around in style—and the Honda Giorno+ is a prime example of how good we've got it.

Take It From Us:

I hate to start anything with a "Back in my day!" type sentiment, but do you realize how freakin' expensive pickup trucks have become? I mean, we were just talking about how you could get a Toyota Tacoma into the $70,000 range on Slack and asking, "How have we come to this?!" 

Across the spectrum, pickups have skyrocketed in price, both due to corporate greed and inflation, which really go hand in hand. But that leaves truck customers with both staring down the barrel of a $1,000+ a month car payment, as well as a truck worth so much, you don't even want to use it for truck things. You think you're going to throw gear or motorcycles or ATVs into the bed, or maybe take it out into a pasture to feed cattle, horses, or get out into the backcountry to hunt with something that costs what a family starter home used to cost in the '90s?

Absolutely not. 

Folks are going to baby those machines. They're going to keep them pristine. They're going to fear damaging them, both because that'll plummet the truck's value—making them upside down on their loan—as well as cause repair bills that total thousands for something that used to cost a firm handshake and two nickels. I jest, of course, but most modern headlights are sealed units that cost thousands to replace. Do you really want to risk that?

This is where the new four-door Kawasaki Ridge Crew comes into play, as it takes the old-school formula of a pickup truck—four doors, spartan interior you can wash out with a hose, work truck capabilities—and brings the price down to reality. In essence, the new Ridge Crew is a pickup from the late '80s or early '90s, capable, affordable, and has the creature comforts you'd want when the weather goes bad, but you have to still get after it. 

Ford F-150 who?

Kawasaki's Ridge Crew is based on a stretched two-door Ridge, the same that our very own Robbie Bacon had so much fun with last year. It's powered by a 999cc four-cylinder engine, and based on which model and trim you get, you'll have access to either 92 horsepower or 116 horsepower. Seating can be had for up to six passengers, and payload remains a whopping 1,000 pounds, with a tow rating of 2,500 pounds. 

That's good enough to tow a trailer of Kawasaki dirt bikes, ATVs, or the brand's Jet Skis. Not that any of that was mentioned by Kawasaki at our introduction, but I did the math. 

Creature comforts abound within the cabin, too, as you get full HVAC including heat and A/C, the former of which came in handy during our trek into the wilderness of a Montana spring—there were two instances of whiteouts followed by wind and sun. Cameras can be had both at the front and the back, giving the driver almost a 360-degree view around the machine, and you also get niceties like Apple CarPlay, Android Auto, or, if you spec it up, Garmin's Tread infotainment center. 

There's also 14 inches of suspension travel and clearance, an assisted bed piston to help drop whatever payload you're hauling, and a coffee table book's worth of accessories so that you can get up to whatever you need all within the confines of the UTV. All while not worrying you're going to bend sheet metal, break a lamp, or get blood on your seats—whether it's animal or your own. And it lived up to everything promised as we toured, and put it to use, Montana's epically beautiful Ranch at Rock Creek resort just outside of Philipsburg. 

The Ranch at Rock Creek is a working ranch that encompasses a total of 6,600 acres. In those confines are one of the best trout streams in the West—I caught three during my first ever fly fishing trek with Field & Stream's Sage Marshall—horse pasture, open range, and pine-encrusted wilderness that holds towering meadows, steep cliffs, and all the animals you'd care to chase.

I was especially enamored by the massive elk herd I spotted from high atop one vantage point, but I might have an addiction to chasing these particular critters.

Our romp took us through it all, as well as across trails with deep snow ruts and icy bends, testing the capabilities of both our Ridge Crews, their tires, and our bravery in certain sections. I was pretty impressed by the clearance and ride quality over the bumpy terrain as it transitioned between rocky ruts and mud wallows to snow-shod ruts and slippery ice. And that's with the tire pressures being slightly higher than I'd run them for this particular sort of work—we were at the manufacturer-recommended 30 PSI. 

But nothing seemed to phase the UTV, as Kawasaki did an admirable job engineering the package as a whole. As is my belief in the space as a whole, the brand also really aimed to showcase just how much this UTV could be used to replace your truck. Which is why we also threw a handful of hay bales and snow into the bed, we saw it plow a small section of sugary-hard snow high up at elevation, and then backed the machines into a trailer that'd be perfect to tow whatever you needed either into the backcountry or around the farm. We also moved some "fallen" trees in the middle of our path with the Warn winch that comes standard on the XR trim, which it did with ease. 

And we did so all while being extremely comfortable inside the cabins. 

As I mentioned earlier, a Western state spring is one that involves gray skies in the morning, freezing cold wind in the late morning, sunshine for about twenty seconds, a whiteout blizzard for an hour, sunshine again for 12 minutes, another whiteout, the wind dying down, and finally ending on either a spectacularly beautiful sunset filled with pinks and oranges, or another blizzard. We had all of that and the latter of the two end options. But through it all, I stayed warm inside the Ridge Crew. As would whoever you decide to bring with. It really checks off every box. Or, at the very least, can be built up with certain accessories to check every box. 

About my only complaint throughout the day was the Kawasaki's seating height, and that was something I wasn't alone in. 

See, Kawasaki erred on the side of giving the Ridge Crew a pretty high seat height. This was to both make ingress and egress more easily handled, as well as allowing those of an average stature a pretty great seat height. But in doing so, anyone that's shorter than average, or taller than average in my particular case, will likely find that the seat height could be improved by making it adjustable. I, personally, would've loved to have seen an adjustment to reduce the overall height by two to three inches, and one of the other folks there who's on the shorter side said she'd like to see it lowered in the same fashion, too, as her feet were somewhat danglin'. 

As such, with a helmet on—though I never wear one while driving myself in real life—I was hitting my visor and the top of my helmet against the roof. So an adjustable seat height would go a long way in making it more comfortable. But that's about it in terms of annoyances you should be aware of. But what about pricing? Easy, think 1990s Ford F-150. 

Now, when you consider the Kawasaki Ridge Crew is powered by a 999cc inline four-cylinder engine and only puts out, at most, 116 horsepower, a starting price of $31,000 might seem pricey. But the whole thing weighs under 2,000 pounds. And because the body panels are plastic, parts are easily replaced and cheap, but the powertrain, suspension, and everything else is made to get beaten on, well, that starting price is absolutely in line with what a couple generations of pickup ago used to cost before every truck maker lost their minds. 

Could you imagine the sales if any of the Big Three started offering a $31,000 work truck these days? And no, I don't count the Maverick as a truck. I do count the Ridge Crew as one, though. One that I'm unafraid to beat on, get dirty, and put away wet. A truck that I can actually use for truck things. A truck that won't be a garage queen. An actual truck.

Albeit, a truck that suspiciously looks like a new side-by-side and says "Kawasaki" along its bed. 

Do Truck Shit

Not many motorcyclists would argue if you called your motorcycle “therapist” or described riding as a “therapy session”. I certainly wouldn’t, and I’ve been living with some relatively serious mental health issues for the past decade. It’s not something I speak about on RideApart too often, but for this article, it’s important to note.

Therapists, psychiatrists, and even monks: I’ve seen them all. I looked for answers from Eastern and Western medicine, plenty of things in between, and took what worked for me where I found it. 

But I’ve always had one sanctuary, a remedy to my issues that has never failed to take some of the load off—going for a ride. 

Whether that ride takes the form of railing my Street Triple around my local canyon roads for three hours, lapping Willow Springs on a BMW S1000RR, or hitting a motocross track, it always felt like a fairly similar therapy session. When I’d get off the bike, I’d feel brighter, lighter, and able to face life’s problems with a more optimistic approach.

But after riding Honda’s 50th Anniversary Gold Wing from Birmingham, Alabama to Daytona, Florida, and covering around 700 miles, I saw a side of motorcycle therapy I’d never seen before because I’d never ridden a bike like this before.

Unbeknownst to me, I was the perfect person to test out this two-wheeled therapist because I’d been dealing with a couple of personal issues right before the ride.

Never Ending Roads

Seemingly endless straight roads lay between the start of my ride and my final destination, but thankfully, I got to hustle the 2025 Gold Wing and 1975 Gold Wing GL1000—the inaugural model—around Barber Motorsports Park before we set off, relieving any pent-up curve-related anxiety. 

Long, straight stretches of pavement are the kinds of roads I’d usually think of as a means to an end, with the end being twisties. But, on the Gold Wing, I came to see through new lenses.

Instead of impatience or borderline annoyance—as I’d usually feel on these roads—I felt a sense of zen once I let the Gold Wing do what it does best—glide. I crunched miles upon miles in this state, watched the leaves change shape and color, and got lost in the strobe light effect the sun had as it came through the trees around me. 

It was like uploading artwork onto an empty hard drive. 

But, eventually, my brain fired back up and the thought factory was in full flow. You see, I rode for a few hours, which is about as long as I’d normally ride. When I snapped back into, well, myself, I did so with all the serotonin that a normal ride would give me.  But I was only a third of the way into a near-400-mile trip, so what was I supposed to do now?

Well, those personal issues I mentioned earlier sprung to mind and now seemed a lot more approachable.

The road didn’t stop, so neither did I. That forced me to sit with my issues, but thankfully with an optimistic mind, gifted by the previous few hours of serotonin-producing riding. I even came up with some possible solutions for said issues. That’s about as successful a therapy session as you can hope for, but I still had several more hours left in the saddle, so back into zen I slipped. 

After logging around 300 miles my brain switched back on, again brimming with even more dopamine and serotonin, and with the memories of the solutions I’d come up with for my issues, a thought said, “What are you waiting for? This is where we’re going to be for the next few hours.” With the use of my Cardo, the bike’s built-in Android Auto system, and the Gold Wing as my life coach, I started making calls.

I made more progress with problems during the two days I spent on the Gold Wing than I would’ve in two weeks had I been left at home. 

The updated user interface and wireless Android Auto deserve a shout-out here because I don’t like messing around with settings while I’m on the move unless it’s incredibly intuitive, and while I feel there’s potential to further refine the system, it didn’t take long to get to grips and use it while riding.

More than progress with problems, I made some life decisions, but not because of time spent on the road—I believe it was the Gold Wing itself that empowered me to make them.

Flying On Golden Wings

Riding an Ocean

Normally, when I come back from a spin to clear my head, I have high, positive energy but it’s frantic because that’s how I rode—it's the energy my Street Triple calls for. But my state of mind after spending hours on the Gold Wing was completely different.

I felt both the calm and power of the ocean were on my side because that’s what the Gold Wing has. 

It was as though the characteristics of the motorcycle crossed my brain/blood barrier, and I was embodying it—I suppose that tends to happen when you spend 11 hours a day on a motorcycle.

More than anything, I felt empowered and I know that’s coming from the relentless, yet smooth, 1833cc flat-six motor, which puts out around 125 hp and a frankly ridiculous 125 lb-ft of torque and sends you forward with a woosh rather than a frenzied pull. But when you’re riding an 800 lb-plus motorcycle, you need more than bottomless power to feel confident.

Honda’s leading link front suspension setup and linked braking system gave me more stability than I imagined when hitting the brakes or performing low-speed maneuvers. Keeping its composure is one of the bike’s strong points, and it helped me do the same as a result. 

But comfort, bags of power, and an easy-to-manage package was what I was expecting. What I wasn’t expecting was something that’d like the corners as much as I do.

After a long stretch exploring the open road and my open mind, I came upon a series of fast-sweeping bends and said to myself, “Oh yeah, corners, I love these.” Once I tipped into them, it was as though the Gold Wing responded with, “Oh, yeah, you’re not the only one.” I felt as stable nearing the bike's 40-degree maximum lean angle as I did upright on the freeway at 70 mph.

In every sense, I felt both the calm and power of the ocean, whether performing a u-turn, cruising the highway, or eking the cylinder heads ever closer to scratching their casings. It meant that 350-plus mile days in the saddle didn’t pass in the blink of an eye, but rather with the presence that they deserved. 

Humble Pie Never Tasted So Good

I’ll hold my hands up and say I’ve made jokes about Gold Wings and Gold Wing owners in the past, but I’m happy to have egg on my face because I understand now. I understand how this model has outlived almost every other, why it has sold more than 700,000 units, and garnered a cult following around the world.

I’ve never experienced long-distance two-wheeled travel like I did on the Gold Wing. Mentally, it brought me to new depths and physically to new places. I happily took long, straight roads that I’d never have dreamed of riding for fear of boredom, and I was all the better for having done it.

I used to think that Gold Wings were for old people, but I was wrong. This is a bike for motorcyclists with time and money to spare, they just happen to be two things retirees often have in abundance. If I had the time and money to buy a Gold Wing, I’d be right there with them. And Honda is making sure by the time I’m ready for one, it won’t disappoint in terms of sporting ability.

The Gold Wing is unquestionably comfortable—Honda would have to really fumble the ball to mess that up. But a presentation before riding the latest model around Barber Motorsports Park, revealed that engineers focused on making the model sportier for the last several iterations in preparation for the next generation of Gold Wing riders, and I can tell you it was energy well spent.

If you have the time to take off for days on end and can afford the Gold Wing’s starting price of $25,200—although the one I’d opt for is the 50th Anniversary Gold Wing Tour DCT, which has a base MSRP of $29,700—go to your local dealer right now and test ride one. At the very least it’ll rewrite your definition of what it is to ride a refined motorcycle.

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. 

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.

Ride All The Things

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.

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