Thoughts on the Fz6...

I've owned the Yam for almost two months now. I've done a bit of commuting, a bit of Sunday scratching and a 300 mile day around Wales. So I'm starting to recognise the good bits of the bike and also the more niggly bits.

First impression:

A bloke in his mid twenties reversed his van onto the drive. He greeted me with a firm handshake and introduced himself. Then the back doors of the van swung open. I remember telling myself not to get too excited about it because it may cause me to buy something I may regret. But as I got my first glimpse of those two underseat scorpion cans and that fat 180 tyre, the excitement got the better of me.

We wheeled the bike out onto the driveway and began to inspect it. There were a few stone chips on the tank, to be expected of a naked bike really, and a few wear marks on the grab rails. This really didn't bother me at all. It had full service history, receipts, the red master key - everything. With only 16,700 miles on the clock and a modest asking price, I knew I was onto a bit of a bargain.

It's dripping with extras, which is not bad thing in my book! It arrived with carbon fibre side panels, a carbon hugger and front mudguard, this compliments the metallic black colour scheme and (in my opinion) looks really trick - far from tacky. A Dynojet power commander is mapped to the twin scorpion exhausts, improving fuel economy and power delivery. Some of the more sensible extras include a smart looking bellypan, to keep the downpipes in good condition, and a decent sized, genuine Yamaha flyscreen - which makes so much difference.

It seemed a shame not to buy it eh?

First ride:

12 hours after buying it, I was finally able to ride it. After taking the fly screen off and the er... decibel killer out I started it up. It was so much louder than the Sv. It was a constant, noisy, buzzy engine and it sounded awesome.

I pulled off the drive and that's when I began to panic. I knew that riding an inline four would be different to a V twin but I don't think I realised just how much different it is. Used to keeping my revs low whilst trundling down my road, at 2,500rpm the Fz6 was spluttering and jerking all over the shop - it just couldn't do it like the Sv could.

I spent a good few hours embarrassing myself around my hometown before deciding to actually take it for a proper ride. So I headed down some familar roads to see how it performed... and performed it did. It is literally the polar opposite of the Sv650; gutless and jerky at lower revs, the Fazer struggles around town, overtakes have to be taken in lower gears and the bike just doesn't suit calmer riding.

However if you take the digital rev counter above 8,000rpm, it sure shows you what it's made of. If you really give it some wellie, the front end feels light and those ridiculously loud pipes are screaming at you, spurring you on. It is such a massive thrill. But what makes this acceleration feel faster than what it probably is, is the fact that you have no wind protection. So when you're pinning the throttle back, the wind is pinning you back. The first time I took it to high revs it took me by surprise and shifted me to the back of my seat, I was clinging on with all my might. It is physically draining. High speed riding is when my fly screen comes in handy, it eases so much strain on your shoulders and neck, you really will be thanking it after a day's riding, even if it looks a bit bulbous.

The first time I used the brakes I was caught out. Taken straight from the R6, these have great stopping ability, superior to the Sv650's poor Toxicos. It handles around corners well and I don't find it worse than the Sv, and that handled brilliantly. The previous owner had dropped the forks of the Fz by 10mm or so, to make it turn sharper. I haven't tried it standard yet so I'm not sure how big of a difference this makes. I've also recently added some flat renthal bars on it which has changed the riding position and handling significantly - I prefer it as it feels much more 'whippy' around corners even though it does lean you a little further forward. Besides - they look cooler and surely that's a good thing?

So how does it compare to the Sv?

On paper, the Fz6n is better in every way. It has over twenty extra horsepower, it's much comfier, better on fuel (but only with the power commander fitted), the brakes are better and it gives you so much more of an adrenaline rush. I personally feel and know that it is a much better bike. But I still feel like there's something missing.

It doesn't have the bubbly, lumpy quirks of that glorious V twin engine. The Sv's engine feels like a playful pet, purring along to that beautiful V twin beat. Whereas the Fz6 engine feels like an energetic insect - brutal and buzzy, must be raced otherwise sat in the garage. Anything in the middle doesn't work quite right.

It just doesn't quite have the character or personality that the Sv had. Maybe it's psychological. I might just be a bit strange, personifying bikes by using words like 'character' but I personally believe that is one of the most important things in motorbikes, it gives a bond between rider and machine. It's a good thing.

That's not to say that the Fz6 is a bad bike of course. As I've said, with decent brakes and a well performing engine, this is one cracking bike, much better than the Sv. With a few issues with snatchy fuel injection on the earlier models and a clunky gearbox being the only real problems, this really is a fantastic bike. The earlier Fazer's from 1998 onwards are brilliant too. There's a lot about and they've been tried and tested over time, meaning only one thing - they're ace.

The Sv still has a place in my heart though. You won't be forgotten.

The long Journey home...

I knew that the outward journey would always be simpler than the return journey. But I just didn’t realise how much more simple it would be. On my journey to the Charente, the 450 miles from Folkestone seemed like a daunting prospect in the mind of an eighteen year old on a 33bhp bike. But little did I know, the 680 miles I had to ride on the journey home would be so much more daunting, with all of my fears rolling into this one, epic journey home.

However, my father accompanied me on his G650GS on the trip down, which made it rather straight forward – follow the Beemer’s back tyre. Predictably, it was uneventful and everything went as planned, I didn’t even ride onto the wrong side of the road. The only things I had to complain about was the resemblance of my backside looking like a baboon’s and the 38 degree heat wafting through my helmet, feeling like someone was holding a hairdryer to your face.

After a week or so in the sun, exploring the country roads and the quirky French villages, it was time to start up the SV once more and ride back up to England – alone. I had just less than 700 miles to do today so sensibly, I decided to head off early to give myself plenty of time to reach Calais, in case any dramas occurred.

For some reason I had built up this terrific fear of the French Gendarmes. I don’t know why, perhaps it’s the guns on their guns on their hips or the stories I’ve heard of them seizing bikes for speeding – most likely the guns.

I was approaching Tours on the A10 toll road, and had just finished paying the 19€ when this Gendarme stood in front of my bike and pointed at me. I remember very clearly the two words that I kept repeating to myself: “Shit, fuck, shit, fuck…”

He shouted over in English, “Eh you, over here” And then gestured to this small layby where there were four or five Gendarme vans and a group of Gendarmes staring at me pulling up. I was the only vehicle that had been pulled to the side.

I was bewildered, had I been caught speeding? Is my Remus Revolution too loud? Is it my iPod headphones poking out of my jacket? All of these concerns and worries started hitting me as I started giving myself reasons to get in trouble. I even looked up at the sky and was praying for my bike not to be taken off me, I love it too much.

The man that had instructed me to pull over walked alongside my bike and asked me for my documents which, luckily, I had remembered to pack last minute. I decided to stay sitting on the bike as I had read somewhere that getting off your bike is a sign of aggression in foreign countries, I don’t know if that really is true but just this once I didn’t want to chance anything.

An attractive female dog handler walked over to me and told me to take my helmet off and step off my bike. I did so, sneakily tucking my headphones back into my pocket and turning them off. She then told me that the dog was going to sniff my bike and myself for drugs. I’m not a druggy but I was wearing second hand leathers and using a second hand tank bag - I hope that the previous owner wasn’t.

Luckily, the dog sniffed around and found nothing, so she smiled at me and told me I could go. I collected my documents and then nervously headed back onto the road. A sigh of relief fogged up my helmet as the Gendarme vans became small dots in my mirror.

I plodded on for another 110 miles and was approaching a petrol station but my fuel light hadn’t come on yet. And as soon as my front wheel had gone past the slip road, my fuel light started blinking at me. Sod’s law.

I began to panic again, how far will the next petrol station be? Am I going to get stranded in the middle of France?

I saw a sign for an aire in 10km, so I thought I wouldn’t be very conservative with my fuel. I sped off and arrived at the aire. It was two picnic tables and a car park. Oh shit.

My clocks were now on 115 miles and I’m pretty sure the reserve light only lasts 20 miles. I carried on the motorway searching everywhere until eventually I came across a sign indicating a fuel station in 38km.

I slowed down to 55mph to save some fuel and even tucked my head behind my screen to try and conserve as much fuel as possible. It was definitely not the most comfortable, fun thing that I’ve done - I even had caravans overtaking me it was that bad.

After half an hour or so, I finally arrived at the petrol station with my bike spluttering and coughing for fuel. Relief instantly swept over me. Somehow, I had managed to scrape almost 160 miles from a tank of petrol. It’s supposed to do 140 miles to a tank, so I guess the 55mph and head-down-action really helped me out there.

After the fuel experience, I vowed to always stop for fuel when I reached around 100 miles. Despite this, I still only stopped three times for fuel, in total, which I was quite proud of.

I arrived in Calais near 5 O’clock, so I decided to see if I could be put onto an earlier ferry. I rode into the port and was a lone bike in a sea of cars. After an hour of waiting to get to the booth, I learned that there were massive delays with all P&O ferries. It was horrendous. The bloke in the ticket box gave me a ticket saying “Depart: 18:10” – I boarded the ferry at nine O’clock…

I mustn’t complain though, whilst I was waiting I met a guy on an RSV1000 who had just returned from the Nurburgring and another bloke on a 1200 bandit who had rode from only 30 miles away from where I was staying.

We all sat in the cafeteria on the ferry, exchanging stories and drinking tea. It made the journey so much better, having someone to talk to, as I had endured a whole day of no conversation. We all said goodbye and jumped back on our bikes to carry on with the journey home.

I had arranged to meet Jamie, in Maidstone. So I pulled into the service station off the M20 and met my riding buddy for a bit of a morale boost and a good old McDonald’s. I even went to the shop to buy RiDE magazine and found a picture of myself on page 17!

We endured a four hour journey home in the rain and a feeling of achievement rushed over me as our wheels rolled onto my drive. It was done.

My hands were so cold; my freezer felt warm and my arse felt as sore as a convict’s but my 700 mile nightmare was over.

But when I think back about it, it was a fantastic journey. With it’s ups and downs, the sense of the unknown and the strangest feeling of being alone in a foreign country.

Just me, my SV and the long stretch of tarmac taking me all the way back home.

Fantastic.