Ride report. DR650 Yes/No
It all started a couple of weeks ago, jammed under a fallen tree in the rain struggling to “clutch ride” the RMX450 out the other side of the log without damage or personal injury. I’d not had a lot of fun on the 90k loop the day before and this one was turning out to be as much fun as licking a 9 volt battery. For some reason I was struggling, there was nothing wrong with the bike, the company was the usual good mix, the trails were the bomb as normal but I was over it. I mentioned it to a few of the blokes at one stage and got the anticipated response so I was left wondering on the drive home what was going on. For the first time I had a genuine feeling of having had enough.
Without wanting to bang my drum, I’ve done a bit of riding. I started racing at club level back in the early nineties and have held a race license ever since. From Thumper Nats to State Enduro and Aussie Offroad I’ve had a go, in the last few years I even ran a couple of AORC and State rounds as a private promoter. I’ve spent over 20 years banging between the trees and now here I was, wondering where to from here.
I knew I needed to do something different. My young bloke rides and like most blokes in my position I love sharing that time with him, I knew that if I was to tell him that I was finished riding it would be like setting fire to his Xbox. So there I was standing in the garage with a stubby of commonsense contemplating the options for a 41 year old washed up enduro rider. It was then that the dirt bike god spoke “Adventure riding Protty”.
I had never really understood the idea of taking an already heavy bike, bolting any array of parts onto it then piling a heap of gear on top and heading off to share your trails with Mum, Dad and the kids in their 100 grand four wheel motel. Maybe it’s the old age, maybe it’s that god has spoken but it was all making sense. If I needed a change, here it was and so the plan was hatched, adventure riding here I come.
Being an avid Suzuki fan the obvious bike of choice was the DR650. It must be said I’m the type of bloke to not procrastinate if I decide to do something, so the internet was being punished with google searches and forum inquiries. If I was going to do it I needed to do it soon before the off road blood drained from the veins. A few of the boys had good advice on the Old Bulls site, some old magazines were dragged out and bikepoint was getting hammered. The biggest decision was new or second hand. Turns out eBay had one waiting for me with some bolt-ons already attached. The previous owner turned out to be an old enduro boy and even did a halfway run to Buladelah to save me the drive. For under 5k I figured I had coin left to spend on extras. So Friday night was spent in the shed putting the DR on a weight loss program while the empty bottles of weight gain lined themselves up on the bench.
I’m one of the unfortunates who is subjected to loosing my fulltime flat mate every second weekend, things get quite around here when he’s not about but not this weekend. Mid morning Saturday Mick was already onto it, “I’ve got a leave pass, when do you want to go”. Like I said, I’m not one to procrastinate “see you at 130”.
Now for those who don’t know him, Mick’s your typical dirt bike disciple. It’s in his blood, he has a shed devoted to his religion with all manner of bikes and parts hanging from the roof and walls. Mick’s bike of choice is the XR650 and I’ve previously learnt that the two of them love to throw rocks, big rocks! I was a little unsure of his plan for the afternoon and to be honest a tad apprehensive given that my bike preparation had consisted of bolting on some new Tag bars and acerbis hand guards.
Five minutes of tar and Mick turns onto the dirt. I was happy for him to lead while I learnt the finer attributes of the new girl. A matter of metres onto the dirt and the first cricket ball sized rock came past from the back of the big XR, note to self, always maintain a safe distance.
Remember the quite kid on the school football team who was never picked first, hardly spoke but could tackle like a train when he had to and would often make the try saving tackle to win the game? This DR was him, it wasn’t big noting it wasn’t shouting “watch this”, it was just quietly going about doing it’s job. I soon learnt that she had an interesting personality, not once did she stand up and say “watch this”. Nothing like the RMX450 that carves it’s way across the landscape screaming for every living creature to watch as the rider struggles to simply stay on board. The DR was wanting me to ask the questions and I found that she was only prepared to give a yes/no answer.
The trees soon narrowed and I could picture the grin on Mick’s face as he led through the bar width saplings. It was then I asked a question of the big girl and the answer was NO, well the standard size mirrors gave that answer. Soon after the steep down hill single trail had me asking another question as the engine braking gave a similar effect to dragging a block of flats behind us. The question related to ground clearance and the answer was NO. Next question was over a 6 inch log laying on the ground at pace in fourth gear, the front forks answered NO.
The strange thing about it all was at the same time I was getting all those negative answers, the big girl was quietly getting the job done. The power was smooth, strong and useable, the steering was typically Suzuki, the clutch and shift action was positive, the brakes gave perfect feel and worked well. For every NO, there were also plenty of boxes being ticked. Just like a first date with a hot chick it was a matter of working out what she liked and didn’t like. The DR was loving the long up hills and sweeping bends, shifting through the gears was more fun than trying to slow her down but we were growing together and starting to bond.
Carrying a GPS and speedo on the bars is novel to me and I must say on the odd occasion I found myself checking speeds of over 80k’s on what were effectively single trails. This thing is fun, but pedaling one at speed required a different approach. The super soft suspension needed to be respected but at the same time it would lull you into a false sense of security. I found myself a few times comfortably slouched into the soft seat with the elbows down. It was only when I realised that Mick had pulled away that the DR would instantly respond to the basics, elbows up, head forward and weight the outside peg. In one section I found myself clutching out of the corners in a fashion reminiscent of the CR125 days, fact is the big girl responded and we were both loving it.
Mick knew the area well and on a couple of occasions he’d stop for a photo or two and his mandatory lung buster. “How’s she handling the tight stuff” Mick asked in the type of tone that allowed for a negative response. “Yeak it’s ok, just got to remember what it’s designed for” was my response. The fact is I couldn’t pay out on it, it was doing it all just that it was doing some things differently to what I use to.
We continued on and Mick continued to throw rocks at us, it wasn’t until later Mick tells me he was trying to get full value out of the last ride on his rear Perelli, least that’s what he reckoned. Out over the top of Comboyne and onto a short tar section before a quick blast down the Oxley Highway. It was here that the DR gave me a look at her manners on the black stuff. I’ve seen to many results of things going wrong on the bitumen and must say I’m not a big fan but the DR was again manageable and gave no grief as we headed to the next section of dirt.
Mick pulled to a stop before the freshly graded Pipeclay road, “You want to lead and get out of the dust for a while” he shouts, my instinct wanted me to say yes but maybe it’s the old age thing cutting in again “Nah you’re right, I’m happy to just cruise back here”. I know Mick well enough to know that his apparent kind intention was only an invitation to race home. I grinned to myself as Mick powered off in a shower of gravel, I wasn’t going to fall for that one on my first date with the new girl.
I had recently driven a piece of machinery along Pipeclay road at a top speed of about 13kmph, now here I suddenly found the speedo well into the three digits as I struggled for vision in the trail of dust left by Mick. Gravel has it’s own way of reminding you of the perils of high speed and after a few nasty braking moments I decided to ease it up a little. I couldn’t help but chuckle at some of the braking and acceleration marks left in the gravel by Mick and the mighty XR, they’d checked out and were obviously engaged in some weird form of truth or dare together, I just couldn’t work out who was asking the questions especially when I saw tyre marks leading out over the shoulder of the road in a few spots.
At the 145km mark on the odo the DR coughed and spluttered, she was in need of a drink and it was reserve that was going to give it to her. We were soon back on the tar and rolling into Beachwood Mick was reading my mind as he pulled over, “you wanna have a beer at the pub or my place, the beers cheaper at my joint”. Minutes later we rolled into Mick’s driveway, I reckon he should get that shed licenced as a bar, he’d make a fortune. We debriefed the ride, had a look over Micks latest project for the Scrapheap challenge and it was time to call it a day.
Our first date was over, like a few I’ve had myself it wasn’t what I expected but there was a lot to like about it. The DR had said NO on a few occasions but only when I’d asked the wrong question or not given her time to explain. In the end I liked her and I’m hoping she liked me, I’ve got plans to give her some love and see where things go after that. A long range tank and decent suspension are the priority at this stage but it’s fair to say I’m happy to make room in the shed beside the 450 and young blokes 250F. Thanks Mick, as always we covered some country I’d not seen and had a ball. Would I recommend trying something different if you’re done banging between the tress? YES. Would I recommend the DR? The answer to that question is an undoubted YES.
perhaps not that of a twenty year old but 20 year olds are young and stupid anyway 
and don’t go at a bulls roar at the beginning and you’ll still be there at the end 
