A true modern classic: Kawasaki Z900RS reviewed

I’ve always thought ‘classic Japanese bikes’ an oxymoron, like Theresa May dancing, Boris Johnston’s hair stylist or rap music.

There are exceptions, even if they’re retro machines tapping into the zeitgeist rather than true classics.

One is the lovely Kawasaki W800, dropped in 2016 thanks to Euro4 emissions strangulation, and now thankfully back in the range.

Of course, it does have historical kudos, since it’s a modern version of the Kawasaki W series bikes produced from 1967 to 1975, which in turn, were based on the BSA A7.

And the other is the one I was sitting on, the Z900RS, which pays homage to the Z1 of 1972 which was the most powerful Japanese four-cylinder bike of the time.

The original Z1 in the same colour scheme available on theZ900RS

That looked great and the Z900, like the W800 designed by the brilliant Norikazu Matsamura, looks even better, especially in the retro orange and deep brown colour scheme of the one I was about to ride.

That teardrop tank is so gorgeous that if I wasn’t married, I’d propose to it, and the riding position is superbly comfortable – upright and neutral, giving you a nice view of suitably classic round mirrors and matching instrument cluster. It has an analogue speedo and tacho, using the same typeface as on the Z1 and flanking a discreet digital panel showing gear, fuel temperature, time and which riding mode you’re in:

a) Normal.

b) Oh dear, the road’s a bit slippy, innit?

Start up, filling the air with a delicious burble, ride off, and acceleration is lusty enough to satisfy all but the most ardent superbike hooligan, with the engine pulling cleanly from 3,000rpm all the way to the redline at 10,000rpm, accompanied by a glorious soundtrack, with all four cylinders singing in harmony as sweetly as a barber shop quartet.

On a sweeping country road, joy unbounded was to be found between 6,000 and 9,000rpm in fourth gear, although it tended to drink fuel a bit at higher revs. In normal riding, you should get 160 miles or more out of a tank.

Only complaint was slightly snatchy fuelling when opening up from a closed throttle, but you can blame the Eurocrats for that, with their insistence on running the fuel/air mixture as lean as possible, and it’s a very minor complaint in what was a deliciously linear delivery of oomph.

Handling is about the best I’ve found on any machine – the bike’s so perfectly balanced, and a remarkable 31kg lighter than the original Z1, that it only takes the slightest shift of weight on the seat and the gentlest of touches on those wide bars to leave you tipping into bends so effortlessly that after a while you feel you’re cornering, rather than by conscious thought, by instinct.

Or perhaps the Force, if strong with you it is.

Braking, with two hefty discs up front, is as powerful and progressive as acceleration, and the back brake has a lovely linear feel for trail braking into downhill corners, while the suspension manages to be both simultaneously plush and firm. Good trick, that.

Even better, a U-bolt for security comes with it, tucked neatly under the seat.

The best word I can find to sum up the bike is effortless – after a while, you feel as if rather than riding a motorbike, you’re wafting along on a magic carpet of happiness.

So it’s now my favourite Kawasaki. And here’s a message for Theresa and Boris respectively – on a bike, no one can see you dance, and in a helmet, no one can see your hair.

There’s nothing I can do about rap, sadly.