A Tale of Two Suzukis

A Tale of Two Suzukis

LEANINGS

Peter Egan

NEVER HAS THE OWNERSHIP OF A WELL-liked motorcycle been so tragically brief.

As mentioned in this column a few months ago, I bought myself a leftover 2001 Suzuki dual-sport DR650 last winter, as a critical part of my grand scheme to take a long off-road Baja trek next fall. That, and do some trail riding in northern Wisconsin with my friend (and ace drummer in our garage band) Paul Roberts. Paul’s family owns a 300-acre farm there, with lots of woods and a cabin on a lake, right next to the Chequamegon National Forest trail system.

After riding the bike for a couple of weeks, I decided that it was (a) one of the funnest, most carefree, go-almostanywhere road bikes I’d ever owned, and that (b) it was a little large and heavy for the dirt riding I had in mind.

So I went creeping back to Tym Williams, my salesman friend at the local Suzuki shop and said, “Just for the sake of conjecture, how much would it cost me to trade the DR650 in on one of your leftover DR-Z400S models?” He took this proposition to the unseen sales manager in the glass booth and came out with a trade-in deal that was only about $300 above the “No way, no how” maximum I’d contrived on my way to the dealership.

I stared blankly into space for a moment and then said, “Oh, what the hell. Sure, let’s make the trade.” Then I added, “Life is short.”

This is a phrase people my age use to talk themselves into almost anything. It’s probably sold more Harleys, among other things, than all the advertising on Earth. No one above the age of 50 wants to waste a summer (especially a short Wisconsin summer) riding almost the right bike. We have to make lightning decisions here.

Anyway, I made the trade, signed the papers on the 400, and five minutes later my friend Doug Haltine, who is a complete Singles nut, walked into the dealership and bought my “old” DR650 before the engine had a chance to cool. It’s a crazy world.

So away I rode on my new blue DR-Z, heading home in a misting rain. The 400, I quickly verified, is nowhere near as pleasant on the highway as the DR650it’s more wound-up and edgy, higherstrung and lower-geared, with a bit more vibration and less roll-on torque. It likes to hum down the road at 60 or 65 mph, while the 650 wanted to cruise at 80. The 400’s also about 3 inches taller, and more awkward at stop signs.

But a quick run down some pathetically short trails I’d cleaned up around the edge of our property (two days with a rented Brush Hog) revealed I’d made the right decision for serious woods riding. The DR-Z is simply lighter (33 lbs.), narrower and more agile, with better gearing for the dirt. As a friend of mine said, “The 650 is really a streetbike for people who like to ride trails once in a while, and the 400 is a dirtbike that can legally cross the highway.”

Except for the dual-sport tires, of course, which are no great shakes in the dirt. I got out my fine collection of longneglected tire irons and installed a set of Pirelli MT-21 DOT knobbies-without pinching the tubes, for once. Then, with Baja in mind, I ordered and installed an IMS 4-gallon plastic gas tank (which almost fits, after much grunting, shoving and filing of mounting holes, befitting the imprecise nature of plastic) and put on a set of Moose brush-cutter-type handguards. Ready to roll.

And roll we did. Paul invited me and three of his long-time dirt-riding buddies-Dean Ellison, Larry Wiechman and Brian Barker-up to the cabin for a weekend of trailriding. Not to mention watching the sun go down over the lake, listening to the loons and standing around a bonfire at night while drinking the random beer and/or margarita and watching Monty Python’s Holy Grail on the rustic VCR in the cabin.

Despite this riotous northwoods nightlife, we managed to rise and ride early both mornings. On Saturday we hauled our bikes to a trailhead, suited up and hit the trails. A 65-mile loop of them, with a stop for lunch at a lakeside bar-and-grill. Paul rode (should say, “rode the wheels off”) his Polaris four-wheeler, Brian the Honda CR250 he motocrosses regularly, Dean an elegantly simple, fast and hardstarting 1982 Husky 430 two-stroke and Larry his trusty 1983 XR500 Honda. These guys have been riding dirtbikes all young lives and they ride like bats out of hell, while I’m just getting back into it, so I had to ride my butt off to stay within dust-eating range. But pushing yourself is how you learn, and I picked up some speed and had a great time, on two fronts.

First, I was unprepared for the general wonderfulness of the trails. Wide, sweeping corridors through the forest with tight turns, fast turns, S-bends, dips, hills, hard-packed dirt, loam, rocks, sand, water crossings and mud wallows. Mile after mile of uncrowded trails hard enough to be challenging, but not brutal enough to ruin the day for a novice.

The other nice surprise was the DR-Z. The motor, which packs only moderate wallop on the street, works superbly in the dirt. It pulls with almost electrical smoothness from no revs to its considerable redline, and buzz-saws up steep climbs and through heavy mud (except when you high-side while cleverly switching ruts in the middle of a bog) with a kind of intrepid, unstoppable tenacity.

Handling? Accurate, easy-turning in the rocks, stable in fast turns, with a plush ride that seems to soak up anything. At the end of the day, I couldn’t think of a single complaint, and the bike had already come to feel like a good friend.

Now that I’m home, I must admit that I miss the smooth, torquey DR650 a bit as a backroad-exploring bike. If I were a richer guy, I would have kept it for just that, as I am not tempted to ride the knobby-shod DR-Z much on the street.

But for the woods of the north, the switch was a good one. And probably for Baja as well. When you are truly off-road, lighter weight is always the vortex with the irresistible draw. The DR-Z400S is no featherweight motocrosser or pure, stripped-down enduro bike, but it’s very good indeed for a bike that can legally cross the highway.