BIKE (UK)

Kawasaki Z H2

Cruise control, riding modes, colour dash, yeah yeah, all very good. But Kawasaki’s newest big naked also has a blower – and for us normal road riders this mechanical attachment means it’s a special thing indeed

- By Mike Armitage Photograph­y Jason Critchell

Supercharg­ed. There isn’t a more trouser-stirring feature on any bike than an impeller spinning at 100,000rpm and ramming charge down an engine’s throat. And Kawasaki’s new-for-2020 supercharg­ed Z H2 lives up to the mind-bending promise. The forcedindu­ction 998cc inline four wowed on its launch at the start of last year, and made even Ducati’s wild Streetfigh­ter V4 seem a tad less special during last summer’s group test. The Z H2 didn’t win that comparison test, though. In an assembly of supernaked­s the Kawasaki hasn’t the outright handling, aggression or skinny build to stand wheel-to-wheel with track-ready loons. Being a flexible, accommodat­ing road bike is a different fishy kettle, though – it’s got terrifying performanc­e potential, yes, but the Z H2 is designed for fullsize folk and real life.

Is life with this £16,747 wonder a boosted joy, or is living with a supercharg­ed naked all a bit much? 1000 miles of commutes, blasts, slogs, cleaning and whooping tells all…

Engine and transmissi­on

Wow. It feels a bit of a lame word, but seriously, WOW. What a sensationa­l, bewilderin­g, staggering thing the Kawasaki’s supercharg­ed inline four really and truly is. There’s so much thrust to hand it verges on laugh-out-loud comedy.

It’s not full-throttle, flat-stick shenanigan­s where the

Z H2 scores big. Sure, with a dyno-tested 185bhp at the tyre it’s ridiculous­ly fast and mixes it in a straight line with headcases such as KTM’S 1290 Super Duke R. It’s impossible to use all the performanc­e on the road unless you’re foolishly brave and certifiabl­y stupid. No, it’s the way the Kwak reacts to the tiniest movement of its twistgrip that’s so utterly astounding. Middle of the revs, what feels like no more than about 10% throttle, and the Zed puts the world in reverse. The merest input delivers lightning high-gear overtakes, tyre-scrabbling corner exits and, if you’re in Sport mode, accidental wheelies off the smallest yumps and crests – even in fourth and fifth gear. On roads I’ve ridden all my life, no other bike has ever been as keen to toss its front end into the air as this one. Not the original bullish Suzuki GSX-R1000, any feisty KTMS, or even BMW’S current mind-warp S1000RR. I expected the buzz from using this motor to fade as I acclimatis­ed, but after several weeks use it’s still overwhelmi­ng and hilarious. And yet the Z H2 is also fuss-free and a doddle to ride. At low revs the four is silky and as docile as you want, with smooth, predictabl­e fuelling. Sopping-wet ride in the cold? All the manners you could want. Certain combinatio­ns of revs, gear and hammy fists can cause the slightest off-on step in Sport mode, but you have to be riding hard to notice. ‘That it can be so stupendous­ly fast yet so civilised and usable is outstandin­g,’ gushed editor Hugo Wilson during a day cavorting around the Peak District. ‘It’d be an ace engine for pillions as the power is so smooth and you never have to change gear. I caught traffic on a narrow climb, did 15-20mph the entire way up and just left it in top gear.’

The oil level hasn’t shifted in 1000 miles. This is good – I’ve seen a couple of (heavily used) Ninja H2s that have puffed out a whiff of exhaust smoke, but our Zed is tight and clean. The drive chain isn’t though, as autumn’s wetness brought an orange hint to the links. Surprising­ly, given the locomotive pull, the chain hasn’t required adjusting in 1000 miles. The rest of the transmissi­on is gloriously slick – the sixspeed ’box slips up and down its ratios swiftly with the twoway quickshift­er. My natural pessimism means an in-built worry about mechanical longevity from constant clutchless shifting, but the Zed’s system works with such a light touch at all speeds and loads that it rapidly became second nature.

Handling and ride

Initially the Z H2’s chassis impressed. As I acclimatis­ed and it became familiar its handling and ride quality then started to seem a bit lacklustre… except now I’ve gone full circle and I’m happy.

Despite weighing in at an adventure bike-like

239kg the Kawasaki is easy to ride at low speed.

Helped by the purring smoothness of the engine, the bike rolls around easily with great ride quality and a superb sense of control. Well, once the front tyre’s warm – from cold the steering drops in like on an early Z1000SX, as if the tyre lacks a little pressure. Up the pace and the chassis is fabulously stable and the forks have a nicely-damped action, and it’s stable and reassuring on open A-roads. Really crack on and the Zed’s less happy. The shock becomes crashy on rippled lanes and is flustered trying to deal with bumps, huge torque and lots of kilos during hard riding; it’d be rude to call it crude, but it doesn’t have the quality expected on a sixteengra­nd bike – or that you get on rival machines. It doesn’t feel luxurious. ‘Though the engine is unbelievab­le, the rest is average,’ says Hugo. ‘The rear shock lets it down.’

While all these traits were evident in the first few hundred miles with the Zed, they’re all less obvious with more miles and time. Why? This isn’t a true supernaked. It’s closer to a stripped-down ZZR1400 than a naked ZX-10R, with a riding position that’s more pulled back and sat up than elbow-out aggressive. Once the urge to unleash the engine’s might at every opportunit­y disappears you settle into a calmer way of riding. Fluid pace and effortless roll-on progress are what the Kawasaki is all about, the ample chassis smoothly doing what it should with a fine mix of connection, control and comfort. The brakes are great at all speeds, though. Lots of power, fine feel, and no loss of either in grotty conditions.

‘It’s the way the Kwak reacts to the tiniest movement of its twistgrip that’s so utterly astounding’

Electronic­s

Crave tech? The Z H2 has oodles. The list is extensive: intelligen­t cornering ABS (where the anti-lock ECU talks to the engine ECU), traction control with Zx-10r-style control of slip as well as spin, three riding modes (Sport, Road, Rain), launch and cruise control, two-way quickshift­er, colour dash with a gizmo that shows and records lean angle, and a ‘BST’ readout showing boost. The Zed can also use blue teeth and connect to your phone, allowing you to set up the rider modes remotely (does anybody actually need this function?) or the downloadin­g of worryingly incriminat­ing trip data. Deliciousl­y light quickshift­er aside, nobody has noticed any of these systems doing anything in normal riding. Either they’re extremely subtle, or the smooth pace encouraged by the Z H2 means we don’t ride hard enough to activate them (more than likely). And my self preservati­on won’t allow the grabbing of the front brake -mid-corner to see if the electronic­s are as on the ball as they claim. The only time you are aware a black box is firing out its signals is during significan­tly hard accelerati­on, when the front wheel is prevented from lifting (and if it’s slippery the rear tyre is kept in check). Assuming you are in Rain or Road mode, that is – in Sport the preset electronic­s allow all manner of wheel-lifting, tyre-sliding shenanigan­s. Go into the self-set Rider option and everything can be turned off completely, should you have spent your early years being impressed by the cavorting mono wheel antics of Gary Rothwell.

Our bike has been left in Sport mode, as with the amazing tractabili­ty and smoothness of the motor there’s been no need to fiddle (you also have to press and hold the up/down mode buttons for ages to get the mode to alter, and half the time I can’t be arsed). The only thing we really use is cruise control. As with any bike it’s one of those features it’s hard to see the value of until you use it and realise it’s mega. What’s not mega is having cold hands. The Zed doesn’t have heated grips, and doesn’t have self-cancelling indicators either. I can live without the latter, but the former should be included on a £16k showpiece.

Controls and comfort

The regular Z H2 feels like a naked. There’s a toenail of plastic screwed to the clocks but it doesn’t do much. This bike is a Z H2 Performanc­e which means you get a better-looking Akrapovic exhaust and also a larger ‘meter cover’ with a bit of a flip-up. It doesn’t turn the Kawasaki into a tourer, but

allows a sustained 80mph. Set your speed with the easy-to-set cruise control, and try not to nod off as the barely-awake inline four whirrs soothingly.

The riding position is quite upright, and with the wide fuel tank and relatively short seat it’s quite a locked-in stance, perched where the Zed wants rather than where you fancy. It’s not an uncomforta­ble position though, and with a well padded seat it’s easy to see-off a tank of fuel. I’ve done long soggy commutes, a day slicing around the hillier parts of Derbyshire, sat on the motorway and enjoyed several-hour blasts, and haven’t had any comfort issues.

Both hand levers have plenty of adjustment, clutch and throttle are light, and the multi-button switchgear is easy to get used to and simple to use. The buttons feel squidgy, but the action is more positive.

Practicali­ty

Size, bump-absorbing mass, screen, cruise control and civility mean the Z H2 is more practical than full-on supernaked­s ever get. ‘It’s remarkable in the rain too,’ reckoned Hugo. ‘It’s flowing, safe and controlled.’

This is practical in the sense of not rattling your innards with a track-ready chassis or lumpy low-rev manners, rather than being appointed like an opulent tourer – bungee points are conspicuou­s by their absence (there’s just a hook on each

rear footpeg), there’s no accessory luggage available, and even the 12v outlet and USB charging point are accessorie­s and not standard fit.

The 19-litre tank is usefully sizeable, though, giving a 200-mile range on the motorway. But enjoy the Zed’s blown performanc­e too much on proper riding roads and its ability to devour air and unleaded means the fuel light is lit well before 100 miles. The Kwak’s astonishin­g midrange torque and response mean it also has the potential to chomp through rear tyres.

Quality and finish

Nicely made thing. Kawasaki used to have a deserved reputation for being a tad flimsy, but like the rest of their recent offerings the Z H2 has a pleasing level of finish. There are a few tacky-looking brackets, but you have to look really hard.

I’m not sure matt and satin help visual appeal (and this red-frame scheme is £450 extra), but castings, surfaces and finish are all good. It needs a layer of protective gloop in winter to stop the exhaust headers, brake banjos and shock quickly looking scrappy though, and like all bikes the brake rotors corrode after riding in muck. They clean up with use, but annoyingly this bike’s disc carriers show spots of rust too. Worryingly, the indicators stopped working too.

‘Soggy commutes, motorway slogs and several-hour blasts, and no comfort issues’

 ??  ?? Styling not to all tastes, but looks good from some angles – this one is lying on your belly in a puddle
Styling not to all tastes, but looks good from some angles – this one is lying on your belly in a puddle
 ??  ??
 ??  ?? Tweak your right hand and all that stuff ahead is suddenly placed very far behind
Tweak your right hand and all that stuff ahead is suddenly placed very far behind
 ??  ?? Big-brand end-can is standard on the Performanc­e version
Big-brand end-can is standard on the Performanc­e version
 ??  ?? This mechanical wonder is more desirable than any electronic­s you care to mention
Possibly the best bit on the entire bike, because the noise it emits is so damn addictive
This mechanical wonder is more desirable than any electronic­s you care to mention Possibly the best bit on the entire bike, because the noise it emits is so damn addictive
 ??  ??

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