Kawasaki KLX650

From the moment I saw my first Supermoto, I wanted one. There was something so simple and so raw about the concept it captured my imagination like no other style of motorcycle I'd seen. For those who have been in a coma for the last 10-years, Supermoto racing began in America as TT, a course of half dirt, half bitumen where mentally fast dirt bikes with road wheels and rubber were hurled around, usually sideways in flat track style, by equally deranged dirt and road racers with a bit of spare time on their hands.

After a while the French, who have a deep appreciation of large capacity off-roaders, as well as anything new and fashionable, eventually caught on and the concept grew until it became the wildest form of motorcycle racing in Europe. From there, it was only a matter of time before the craze spread worldwide. And by the way, it was the French who coined the name 'Supermoto'for the hybrid motorcycle and 'Supermotard' for the rider. (Moto is the French word for motorcycle and motard the word for rider.)

Utterly gobsmacked by the staggering ability of Belgian, Eddy Seele, the Chambon brothers and KTM factory rider, Thierry van den Bosch blokes who can get their machines so flat sideways into corners they wear footrests in half I became convinced that my life would be incomplete without a Supermoto of my own.

WHICH BIKE?
I'd love to tell you that the choice of the Kawasaki KLX650C was the result of careful and informed judgement, but it wasn't. I chose it for no other reason than a mate was flogging one for $2000 and it seemed like a good choice. By happy coincidence, a few of what should have been considered requirements were in fact covered by chance. First and foremost, the KLX had electric start. My intention was to use the thing as day to day transport as well as weekend silliness, so the ability to start on the button if it stalled in traffic was pretty important. Naturally, it was a large capacity single-cylinder, but luckily it was liquid cooled, another plus in terms of city use on hot days. Finally, it had an effective 300mm front disc brake, which negated the need for a big-disc replacement.

About the same time, a mate who was similarly afflicted, and whom we will call 'The Riddler'decided on a similar course of action. It's his bike in the pictures, as I've since sold mine to another mate. That doesn't mean that I've given up on the concept. It's just that until a WR450/KTM450 and a shed load of cash comes my way, I've had to rationalise the fleet. 

NUTS AND BOLTS
The first step towards building the machines of our dreams was to secure a set of suitable wheels. The Riddler opted for a set of 17-inch Morad alloy rims brought over as hand luggage by a willing friend from Central Wheel Services in the UK. His preferred rim sizes were the obligatory 3.5-inch front and 4.25-inch rear, because that permitted use of a 120x17 front tyre and 150x17 rear. (Cost was around $700 including spokes, but not building.) Being the tight-arse I am, as well as unconvinced that a power output of about 35ps needed tyres that big, I opted for a 2.5-inch front and 3.5-inch rear. This choice allowed the use of (cheap) 110x17 rubber on the front and 130x17 on the rear. But more on this subject, later.

Most of the Supermotos getting around have very sexy billet hubs, usually from Pommie mob Talon. Due to the lack of funds, both The Riddler and I decided to retain the stock hubs. Justification was founded on the theory that Kawasaki were hardly likely to fit dodgy hubs to an off-road motorcycle and so far we've been proved right. Another advantage of the standard hub was that the brakes remained standard, but for braided lines, and the rear retained the civilised cush drive.

As far as suspension went, we stuck with standard, although 20mm fork spacers were employed in the front. The rear unit received a makeover from Melbourne suspension expert, Peter, at Promecha, in order to freshen things up and raise the rear of the bike, for the right look and to increase steering speed.

When it came to the engine, once again we left everything mechanically standard to avoid unpleasant blow-ups in embarrassing high-rev situations. Although mine received a top cam-chain and The Riddler's a top-end rebuild, the only other mods were the removal of the rubber elbow into the airbox lid and fitting a free-breathing and much lighter than standard muffler from the house of all good things stainless — Staintune. The Riddler decided to play with the jetting, which may or may not have had any effect since my bike was always faster than his by a significant amount, although we later discovered that my bike copped a high-comp piston somewhere along the line.

STYLE IT UP
The KLX isn't a bad-looking jigger in my eyes, so apart from junking the alloy rack, shortening the front guard a bit and fitting a KX rear guard, things were left pretty much alone. The fact that I just wanted to ride and was bored with messing around had nothing to do with it. The Riddler, on the other hand, who is far more patient in these matters, painted the chassis black and fitted rear plastic from a VOR motocross bike. The results are pretty good, I reckon. Owners of factory built motos probably think the KLX looks like shite, but hey, we made ours, and on a shoe string budget.

OUT AND ABOUT
Make no mistake, on really tight, bumpy, twisty roads, these things will cattle dog just about any sports motorcycle, regardless of capacity. There is something deeply satisfying in rounding up a $20,000 sportsbike on a 10-year-old trail bike with a quarter of the horsepower. Gravel on the corner, wet patches under the trees? Who cares. Ride over it anyway, just to feel the tyre scrabbling for traction. Ride over it just for a laugh. Ride over because you can, and then do it again! A Supermoto is punk rock on wheels. Snapping through corners in a heartbeat, light enough to muscle into or out of any situation. Knee-down track nonsense or sliding one or both wheels with amazing levels of feedback, a moto let you take the piss out of physics time and time again.

Single cylinder torque means it's rare to be in the wrong gear and that drive is instantly accessible. That there's only a small amount off horsepower means you can be brutal with the throttle instead of having to dial it in gradually. This is the only style of road motorcycle where riding in the rain is as much fun as riding in the dry, simply because any corner becomes an opportunity to provoke a slide.

Compared with my KLX, The Riddler's machine, with its fatter wheels, tends to steer much slower but feels more secure when leant over. Conversely, the narrower wheels steer ultra fast and in real terms, don't seem to give anything away in outright grip at speed. This is also the case on dirt roads which, on a Supermoto, are as much fun as the bitumen. And if this isn't enough versatility for you, a Supermoto is also a city traffic buster supreme.

But of course all this assumes you actually want to keep both wheels on the ground. A side benefit of the concept is that it's ideal for practising all those fun things that people who just don't get it tut-tut and shake their heads about. Naturally, mucking about in such a way should only done in the safety of an off-road area. Less tut-tutting that way. If this all sounds irresponsible, well I suppose it could be if you're dumb enough to do any of it in the wrong place. But here's the thing: in order to enjoy a modern sportsbike you have to go fast and that spells trouble with a capital Speedcamera. The same kicks, and more, are available from a Supermoto at half the pace, half the price, and double the time.

Have I enjoyed the KLX experience? Oh yeah! Having owned a few motorcycles over the years, the Supermoto has been the most fun out of all. It's two bikes for the price of one, and proof that you can make a good road bike out of a good dirt bike. Try doing the reverse with an R1.