R 12 G/S (KR2)

This motor runs two moods and reads the room every time. Come down a gear without the courtesy blip and the rear steps in with a hard, unapologetic thump, zero electronic cushioning between me and the driveline, just honest mechanical weight I'd almost forgotten a motor could deliver. Wind it out to a relaxed highway lope and it turns civil, no droning at a steady throttle, no mechanical griping, content to reel in the miles. The same engine that dares you in the twisties is calm as you like when the job is distance.

The headline is that narrow spoked front. Aim it at an apex and it drops in on the first request, quick and eager, and within a few miles I quit bracing and simply leaned on it. The rear preload dial deserves a nod too, tool-free and falling right under my hand without cluttering the bike's silhouette. Honesty catches up after that. Hold a genuine pace and the calm drains away; sat bolt upright in the airflow, any tightness in my grip writes itself into the steering until holding a line becomes labor. Link fast switchbacks and that willing front turns obstinate, so I plan each transition a beat ahead rather than flick through. And the firm, fixed chassis feels locked and clean on good tarmac yet punishes over broken surfaces, where the ride stops being fun and turns into something to endure.

There's exactly one piece of good news, and it's the saddle. It looks like a parts-bin afterthought and proves to be anything but; the detail work shows once a day runs long. After that, comfort asks for patience. The wide handlebars feed engine tremor into my hands the moment the revs climb; a short hop registers it as texture, but a few hours in my palms are constantly working against it. It's a bigger, taller machine than any photo admits, and with nothing aboard to lower the seat, a shorter rider is stranded on tiptoe while wrangling that mass at walking pace eats real concentration. The sharp peg edges nip my calves every time I duck-walk it, nothing on day one and quietly maddening by season's end. And it never lets me coast; keeping that unfiltered boxer tidy through hard braking into a throttle-on exit is my job alone, the deliberately light electronics leaving that finesse to me.

Point it down a twisting road and something wakes up in me. It breeds a real appetite to carry more corner speed, to treat every bend like it counts, to keep making the move. Most polished bikes slowly wear that instinct down until even a brilliant road feels like an errand. This one hands the hunger straight back. For the right rider, that quality alone carries it.

Bolt on the optional top case and the capacity is genuinely there; it took two full-face lids and a loaded camera bag without a grumble, so hauling is never the problem. What hauling does to the bike is the problem. This machine was drawn as a statement, not a workhorse, and every case and bracket I hang off it quietly siphons away the exact character I'd buy it for, with nothing that fully hands it back.