“What is the perfect adventure bike?” The frenzy of varied recommendations that this question usually sparks, proves the cliche: there is no such thing as the perfect adventure bike. There is only the one that’s right for you.
Some might reply, “it’s the one you have, the one you feel comfortable with.” And there is some truth to that. You’re used to how it handles and know its niggles, maybe even its mechanics. Some have traveled the world on something unusual, like an R1 sports bike, just because that’s what they had and loved. And why not. But what if you are planning to buy a bike specifically for the trip?
My partner and I had decided to travel the world by motorbike before we had ever ridden, let alone owned one. So there we were, scouring the internet, hungrily looking for the answer as to the perfect travel bike.
The GS seemed the obvious choice
We were clear on one thing: we wanted to each ride our own bike, but they were to be the same, so we could share spare parts. Beyond that, it ideally had to be one that never needed fixing, and that was to be small enough for short 5’3” me to handle, without making my partner fold up like a monkey on a grindstone. In the end, we settled on the reputably reliable 2004 model BMW F650 GS, for its combination of decent power with a relatively low seat height.
I had no idea about bikes, but there was a low mileage used one on the Welsh coast that started on the button. So I bought it and rode it back to London. Rookie mistake: as a seaside bike that lived outdoors, it was in bad shape, and everything was rusted shut and rounded off. In short, I must have bought the only unreliable BMW F650 GS in the world.
The wrong bike
This didn’t become apparent until after we commenced our round-the-world trip. The closer we got to crossing from Europe into Asia, the more frequent the breakdowns. To be fair, inexperience made even the basic stuff seem fatal. We had our trusted London mechanic on speed dial and learned a lot about fixing an F650 GS. But it became clear that my bike would not make it through the tougher regions of the Stans, where there would be few BMW parts available. With a heavy heart, we gave up on our plans to ride overland via the silk routes to Australia and returned on our bikes to Germany, where I sold mine and went in search of another.
To be honest, part of me was relieved. Without luggage, I could happily throw the GS around. But with all our gear and only the tip of my tippy toes on the ground, I had been falling all over the place. You’d think I would have gotten good at picking the bike up, but I never mastered it and always had to wait for my partner to come to my rescue. My confidence had plummeted, and I’d started refusing to explore any unpaved roads. Instead of offering freedom, the choice of bike restricted where I would go. Defying all our careful research and the successful test trip from London to Portugal, the GS was not the perfect travel bike for me, after all.
An unusual choice
Armed now with a bit of experience, and with better knowledge of my riding ability and my mechanical prowess, I set out to find my new perfect adventure bike. My choice fell on the unlikely, but simply phenomenal Honda NX250. If anyone knows of this bike at all, it’s often a vague ‘oh, I think that was my mate’s first bike’ memory. First released in 1988, this little dual sport adventure bike was ahead of its time – these were early days for the adventure motorcycling market; and unable to sell this seemingly confused specimen, Honda ended up stopping production after just a few years in Europe and the U.S.. Not a fully specialized off-road bike, and not a street bike either, people weren’t sure what to make of it. But those who took one for a spin, all seemed to agree on one thing: it’s a super fun bike.
And I couldn’t agree more!
I found a 1991 model with about 19,000 miles on the clock that had just passed the very strict bi-annual Gaman safety check, so I could be sure that it was in as excellent condition as it looked. With ample ground clearance, a short wheelbase of 1,350mm (53.2 in.) and a 19-inch front/16-inch rear tire combination, it’s joyously nimble and does anything I ask of it. The dry weight of a mere 123kg (271 pounds) and the low seat at 82cm (32.2 in.) make for easy handling, even fully loaded. At 239cc it isn’t particularly fast, but we like to travel slowly anyway, so that’s a plus, not a draw. And rather unusually for a bike that size and age, it is water-cooled and has 6 gears, making it perfectly capable of sitting on the highway at top speed for hours, without overheating.
No longer able to afford the overland journey, we decided to ship the bikes to Australia, and wow was it a blast braaping around the outback on the NX. Far from shying away from a bit of unpaved road, I was now happily blasting into the trackless desert just because it looked inviting. Not that I was suddenly a better rider or anything. But what a difference the right bike can make!
No bike is perfect
Of course every bike has its drawbacks. A bit like a relationship, it is not about finding flawlessness, but rather about finding a combination of desirables and imperfections that you would love to live with. The usual niggles for an NX250 are a fast-tiring cam chain tensioner, awfully soft suspension, and the fact that the exhaust end-can, which eventually rusts through, cannot be replaced because it forms part of the frame’s structure. The odd-sized tires can be tough to come by, and being out of production for so long, some parts are difficult to get hold of.
Curiously, the little-known NX250 has a devout following – it’s almost like if you know, you know. And that community is always able to source things, from exchanging used parts to 3-D printing new ones. To be honest, I didn’t know all of this when I bought the bike. And by the time I was finding out the hard way, I was having such a good time with the NX that I was willing to live with its quirks. I was totally smitten.
Which bike to ride the length of the Americas?
There was no question then, that this was the bike I was going to ride from Vancouver to Argentina. On exiting Canada, the border guard was sure I’d never make it to South America “on that thing!” Challenge accepted!
Over the two and a half years it took us, there was a fair bit of work to do: the exhaust needed welding, and I replaced the valve seals, the clutch plates, and the cam chain, to breeze over just some of the more major repairs. Most of these are long term consumables and expected when the bike clocks over 100,000 kilometers (currently at 128,000!).
We also had quite a few unplanned breaks due to ‘bike problems.’ But the NX250 did no worse than my partner’s F650 GS. I counted. The BMW had fourteen show-stopping breakdowns, and the Honda only had twelve. (By ‘show-stopping’, I mean being unable to carry on with just a quick zip-tie and duct tape kind of fix.)
We got infinitely better at roadside repairs, and I’ve come to realize that pretty much no vehicle will keep going for years, over hundreds of thousands of kilometers, without the occasional major maintenance. So, when choosing a travel bike, it’s not a question of whether repairs will be needed, but more one of what kind of repairs. And for me, the mechanical simplicity of the NX, incorporating the Japanese philosophy of making everything as user-friendly as possible, makes it a real pleasure to work on.
I am now a much better mechanic for it, if not a better rider. Not that it matters. The unassuming little Honda NX250 has given me the confidence to attempt tricky tracks to nowhere, knowing that I can handle the loaded bike, despite my mediocre-at-best off-roading skills. If I did fall, I often managed to pick it up by myself, before my partner even noticed I’d gone missing. With the NX, I truly have the freedom to go anywhere. Including Ushuaia. Of course the bike made it all the way there, just like I knew it would. It is, after all, the perfect adventure bike.
Photos by Aidan Walsh & Maria Schumacher