Popular Mechanics (South Africa)
"THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME!"
Four men (and a boy) find out if it’s possible to have too much horsepower.
IGREW UP riding ATVS. My pre-driver’s-licence formative years were spent traversing the local woods aboard a Kawasaki Mojave 250 and a Honda 250X. These 1990s sport machines had manual transmissions, kick-starters, and a top speed just beyond 80 km/h, which seemed fast enough when you were cutting through the trees like you’re Luke Skywalker on his speeder bike.
In the modern ATV universe it’s hard to find a clutch, let alone a kick-starter, and a 250cm3 engine is laughably puny. The distinction between sport bikes and rack-wearing utility beasts has blurred, with a proliferation of 1,0-litre 4x4s that are equally happy hauling trailers or pulling wheelies. Side-by-sides have likewise mutated. Even the ones maintaining that golf-course-maintenance look pack upwards of
60 kilowatts plus long-travel suspension.
To navigate the landscape of today’s ATV, we assembled seven of the best all-terrain vehicles we could get our hands on at Monticello Motor Club’s off-road park 140 kilometres outside Manhattan. The 120 hectares included tight, wooded trails, deep mud and water obstacles, and wide-open gravel roads that proved to be the perfect setting to assess the state of the ATV.
We had a little bit of everything: big-bore quads, side-by-sides, and even a youth model for our most enthusiastic tester, ten-year-old John. His repeated mantra of “This is awesome! This is awesome! This is awesome!” set the day’s standard for unabashed enthusiasm.
John’s steed is the Polaris Outlaw 110, a sport ATV bereft of cargo racks and wearing low-profile, square-shouldered rear tyres that look borrowed from a dirt-track racer. After an acclimatisation wherein John is subjected to the tyranny of the built-in speed limiter – which
An ATV staple for decades, the continuously variable transmission (CVT) is what makes them so novice-friendly. The basic idea goes back to Da Vinci: two sets of cones move a belt to adjust the gear ratio, keeping the engine in the heart of the powerband. It also means no shifting necessary. Just hit the throttle and go.
resolutely holds the Outlaw to a downright lawful walking pace – we unscrew a wire under the seat to unleash the Polaris’s full 112 cm3 of fury, along with a much more exciting 46km/h top speed. This proves fast enough for thrills, but not so fast as to trigger parental forbiddance from US Popular Mechanics editor-in-chief Ryan D’agostino, John’s father and my boss.
As our group picked our first ride, I grabbed the Honda Fourtrax Rancher 4x4. As the smallest-displacement quad in our (adult-size) fleet, I figured it would most closely approximate my beloved 250X. But the difference is like that of an ’80s CRX to a new turbo Civic. The Rancher’s liquid-cooled single-cylinder displaces a healthy 420 cm3, routing its power through a five-speed dual-clutch transmission. The rear end has independent suspension and the steering is power-assisted. Despite all the options, the Honda weighs only 260 kilograms with a full tank of fuel. That’s about a hundred kilograms less than the 1 000 cm3 machines, endowing the Honda with an agility that compensates for its lack of outright power – think of it as the Mazda MX-5 of the trails. After a few drags down the dirt quartermile straight, we leave Monticello’s staging area and the trails grow technical in a hurry. We’re stopped as John loses traction in a deep-water impasse designed to test Land Rovers, and debate going back for the Polaris General; it has a winch, and we’re dying to winch something. But I climb aboard
the little Outlaw and with side-to-side rocking, the tyres find purchase and it clambers out on its own. Impressive.
On the other side of the water, I swap rides, climbing onto the Kawasaki Brute Force 750. While the Rancher’s 420cm3 displacement felt like enough muscle for me, the twin-cylinder Kawasaki feels altogether too powerful for the tortuous woodland trails. I head back out to the access road, pin the throttle, and discover that 90 km/h arrives just as quick as it would in a reasonably powerful car, call it seven seconds or so. Suitably windburned, I stop, put the Brute in twowheel drive, and kick the rear end out in riotous, gravel-roosting power slides. I almost forget that this thing is actually useful, capable of carrying 110 kilograms on its racks or towing a half-ton trailer.
Aboard the Arctic Cat Alterra TRV 1000 XT, I experience the opposite sensation. It’s refined and luxurious by comparison. It’s no 7 Series, but the rear backrest for passengers is a standout amenity, and the Alterra’s 25 centimetres of travel smothers the big hits you’d expect to toss you sideways.
The Polaris Sportsman XP 1000 happens to be the e last of the ATVS to ride,
and I’m immediately thankful that I worked up to this one. A toggle switch selects three increasingly powerful modes: Work, Standard and Performance. Since we’re a bunch of maniacs, we leave it in Performance at practically all times. With 67 kilowatts, the Sportsman will accelerate out from under you if you’re not paying attention. Instead of worrying about getting soaked in puddles, I skim across them.
I climbed into the Pioneer 1000-5 Deluxe ready to explore more. But minutes down a new trail, a fallen tree partially blocks the way. The ATVS squeeze through, but the wider side-by-side’s tyres are forced to claw over the fallen limb on one side, taking advantage of its 314 mm of ground clearance. Like the Honda Rancher, the Pioneer uses a dual-clutch transmission (this one a six-speed), but the steeringwheel shift paddles are far more intuitive than the ATV’S handlebar-mounted buttons. Compared with the ATVS, though, the four-door Pioneer’s tall roll cage feels like a liability out in the woods, smacking every overhanging branch like a sloppy high-five.
Dirt fatigue was setting in as I got to the Polaris General 1000 EPS, the final vehicle. So I jolted the ol’ adrenaline glands with an open-throttle run down our main drag. The General is a sleeper with its winch and a dump bed. It also has 75 kilowatts and all-wheel drive. I see 108 km/h on the speedo before an electronic limiter kicks in – that’s better than any cup of coffee.
By the time the sun is setting on the Catskills, we’re all caked in dust, thoroughly exhausted, and still mildly giddy. To be honest, I’d forgotten how much fun I had on four-wheelers, back before I got my licence and my attention turned to cars. The brand of visceral excitement that you get from riding an ATV doesn’t change, whether you’re ten years old or, ugh, a grown-up. John’s initial assessment was absolutely right. This is awesome.