I’ve long been fascinated by what makes a bike special and why some speak to your soul while others have all the emotional allure of a bucket of wallpaper paste.
After 6500+ miles with the EVO, I’ve become very aware of something rather illicit happening between us. What started as interest and curiosity (love the visceral nature of big KTMs and the performance adventure sector – but doubt about being denied a clutch lever) then developed into disappointment and frustration (recurring cam sensor failure) and has recently burgeoned into not just respect and enjoyment but a pervasive sense of adoration.
So, how has this synaptic success story managed to emerge from the mucky miasma of imperfection? The answer lives somewhere in the overlapping sweet spot on the Venn diagram where exposure, mileage, capability, personality, comfort, performance and joy overlap.
Not all bikes manage to deliver an area where all those circles meet, which means even an objectively competent and accomplished bike could still leave you somewhat cold. The 1390 Super Adventure isn’t perfect. It’s not the best-in-class, the cheapest, the most expensive, the best or worst spec’d, the prettiest, or ugliest… It’s definitely the most orange, though.
But when your brain syncs with it, it starts to feel utterly glorious. Its imperfections are casually relabelled in your brain as ‘character’, and frustrations are forgiven as the price you pay for something that speaks to your soul.
I feel the 1390 in my muscles now; it’s become an extension of my thoughts and mood in a way that some bikes never achieve (like last year’s Tiger 1200 ). Someone in the pub the other night asked me to home in on its standout attractions, and I boiled it down to three key statements.
First, its dynamic performance is addictive – but it’s also not ‘too much’. You can use so much of what it offers you that you feel connected and complicit in its delivery. Impressive for a 173bhp bike packing endless electronics.
Secondly, it’s got a cheeky but supportive personality. It’s your mate who always inspires you to have a little more fun – but isn’t that dodgy one who leaves you gaffa taped naked to a lamppost in downtown Magaluf.
Third, it’s a chameleon. If you need a polite and low-stress tourer, it does that. If you need a cocoon against inclement elements, it does that. If you need to ‘make progress’, it does that. I’d even love to do a track day on it. Whatever your mood or need, it’ll match. It’s a two-wheeled empath.
The Dunlop Meridien OE tyres are now past their best. But with over 6500 miles covered, they’ve coped incredibly well with the power, the load (often with a pillion), and a wide range of riding environments. I’d happily fit the same again – but won’t, in favour of trying something new.
Group Editor - With over 40 years of riding experience and 21 years as a bike journalist, Rich has ridden nearly every new bike of the past two decades and many historical models dating back to the 1930s. He is particularly passionate about sportsbikes from the 1990s and early 2000s, and he loves big bikes that handle well and are suited for long-distance travel. Rich enjoys challenging rides, such as a non-stop 1703.5-mile trip from Land’s End to John O’Groats and back.In his personal collection, Rich owns a 2007 Honda VTR1000 SP-2, a 1998 Ducati 996, a 1986 Suzuki GSX-R750 ‘Slabby’, a 1998 VFR800FiW, and a 1975 Honda CB750 SOHC Dunstall.
Over 40 years of riding…