Original Retro

Original retro

When Kawasaki copied BSA

THE NEW/OLD W650 MAY INDEED BE A BETTER Bonneville, but this isn’t Kawasaki’s first foray down Retro Road. Witness the W2SS Commander 650, sold in this country during the swingin’ Sixties.

You are forgiven for not knowing about the SS—not very many were purchased and even fewer have survived intact. It’s the rare concours d’elegance today that lists a Commander among its spit-shined ranks. Actually, Kawasaki inherited the design in 1960 when it swallowed up Meguro, a small, home-market bikebuilder that met with

success by selling the Kl Twin, a faithful copy of a mid-’50s BSA A 7 right down to the separate gearbox, rightside shift lever, primary chaincase and—presumably-oil leaks. In 1965, this was joined by the W1, a 624cc version, at the time Japan’s largest-capacity motorcycle. Still trying to gain a foothold in America, Kawasaki shipped W1 650s over here the next year.

While Cycle World labeled the effort “on balance, a very good motorcycle,” buyers were less impressed. A single carb meant it was slower than hotrunning Triumphs and BSAs, and its styling already looked dated— even the Brits had moved on to unit-construction engine/gearboxes by then.

Then there was vibration, that traditional bugaboo of all parallel-Twins. Cycle feature writer Byron Black called the Kawasaki a “reliable and trustworthy mount,” but noted that “the considerable vibration of the 650 occasioned a merry flinging-off of bits and pieces every once in a while.”

An attempt at revamping came in 1967 with the Commander SS. Bumped compression and twin carbs knocked a second off quarter-mile times (14.5 sec. @ 91 mph) and boosted top end by a full 10 mph (to 112). Shorty mufflers, cut-down fenders, a lower handlebar and a tuck-n-roll seat all added a degree of flair, but it wasn’t enough. Kawasaki’s 650 Twin didn’t live to see disco.

Lessons were learned, though. Kawasaki got serious about the American performance market, setting buyers up with the screaming HI 500 Triple in 1969, then spiking the point home with 1973’s mighty 903 Z-l. The rest is history. —David Edwards