Being 17, I am not legally allowed to ride a motorcycle. At least that’s who I think I am, mentally. In reality, I was 17, well, 18 years ago. Falling, evidently, in the bracket of the firmly delusional, I genuinely cannot assess how much space I take up in a cab, for instance, or comprehend why my perfectly nice Kushitani jacket from ten years ago won’t fi t anymore. Or, for that matter, understand why things like getting out of bed quickly or drying my hair too enthusiastically feel like a near-death experience. In my mind, I’m 17, skinny and a complete riot on a motorcycle. A motorcycle on dirt, at least.
I, therefore, really like motorcycles that validate this delusion. Like the Hero MotoCorp Impulse, for one, which has faithfully kept at it for the 13 years it’s been around. I’m not kidding you — the parcel of land my apartment building stands on today was the exact same place we shot the Impulse for its first appearance in this magazine, back in 2012. That’s how long the Impulse has fueled India’s off-roading pursuits! But 13 years is a long time to have spent in the dirt and, anyway, we were ready for an evolution of the Impulse about three days after it was launched.
I hope your patience has survived the last decade or so because that evolution is here at last, in the form of the Kawasaki KLX 230. It may not sound like much of an evolution on paper — it makes 4.8 bhp more than the Impulse and weighs 5 kg lesser — but, I must assure you, it really is one. However, while I am very excited to tell you more, let me stop pretending you don’t already know what the KLX is priced at. Kawasaki, which has so far built quite a reputation for making performance motorcycles accessible to India, will sell you a KLX for Rs 3.30 lakh, ex-showroom. In most states, this translates to an on-road price of Rs 4.40 lakh. Okay, I don’t know how to engineer and assemble a KLX — or whatever it takes to import it — but to argue in favour of its price is beyond my abilities.
Story’s over, then? For a lot of us, yes. However, let’s consider you have very generous parents or a spouse who spoils you silly, or that you’ve had a windfall that beggars belief — what then? Since I’ve begun this story on the theme of delusions anyway, there is, perhaps, some merit in fi ling the rest of this story. Humour me, please?
Having parked the two alongside for the static shots Kaizad diligently set about to capture, I stared intently. They’re quite alike in philosophy, as two motorcycles that belong to the same class should be, but clearly separated by time. You see, the Impulse was already a dated motorcycle when it was launched in India — by a whole decade, seeing as it was essentially an Indianised version of Honda’s made-in-Brazil NXR 160 BROS from 2003. In effect, it’s a two-decade old design today and, so, it’s surprising it still looks quite modern in the way its bodywork flows. The KLX, on the other hand, underplays its modernity by opting for understated styling that wouldn’t make it look out of place even, say, in the late ’90s. Parked ’bar to ’bar, they make for a cool pairing — bikes of an ilk, you could say — that can co-exist in your garage, giving that sacred space a theme that would define you as a rider. I love the idea.
Said co-existence disappears as soon as you hit dirt, though. A dual-sport motorcycle, in order of priorities, has to be nimble, quickish, highly intuitive and, of course, seriously durable to withstand the torture your learning curve subjects it to. The KLX is all of that. And fun. The Impulse inverts this checklist, starting out with being fun and tapering off as your needs get more academic. In other words, the KLX is a product of research and expertise while the Impulse is largely a beneficiary of intent.
Riding the two in quick succession makes this convincingly clear. The smaller contribution to this inference is down to the nature of their engines. While both sport 2-valve, SOHC, air-cooled engines, the KLX’s 233cc mill feels noticeably more urgent and responsive, its fantastic 6-speed gearbox always precisely doing what is asked of it. The Impulse’s 149cc engine, while making, both, its power and torque at lower revs in comparison, lacks as much of the tractability as the KLX manages. To give you the numbers, the Impulse produces its 13 bhp at 7500 rpm — the KLX’s 17.8 bhp comes in at 8000 rpm — and its 1.3 kgm of torque is produced at just 5000 rpm while the KLX makes its 1.8 kgm at 6400 rpm.
Of course, the KLX has an output and displacement advantage, and that surplus is further aided by the gearing. Thanks to its higher final reduction ratio (3.214) the KLX lays down its torque to a more usable effect than the Impulse (final ratio: 2.941), with the latter being comparatively more road-oriented. To be fair, the Impulse feels perfectly zesty and tractable in isolation (yes, even today!) and it held the title of the quickest-accelerating motorcycle in its displacement class for years, but with the KLX around, it can no longer conceal its age or its relative lack of pedigree.
The more apparent — and easier to decipher — dissimilarity between the two is, of course, down to the chassis and suspension. The Impulse’s semi-double cradle frame has its roots in the third world, having been designed more for enduring the inefficiencies of your government than to win you rallies, which is what the KLX’s high-tensile-steel perimeter frame is built for.
Out on Pro Dirt Adventure’s fantastic dirt track, the Impulse impressed with its agility but not as much as the KLX. The latter, with its 21-/18-inch wheels gives you that crucial extra bit of stability and confidence, even as it readily wags its tail under hard acceleration, while the Impulse feels less talented in comparison, its 19-/17-inch wheels proving adequate but, obviously, not enough. The KLX brakes much better, too, thanks to sporting a disc at either end (the Impulse gets a drum at the rear); you also get an easily-disengageable ABS, something the Impulse makes do without.
On the suspension front, it’s an easy win for the KLX which, while featuring the same configuration as the Impulse, boasts contemporary internals and, of course, is made to today’s standards of suspension performance. While you will find the front a bit too soft and dive-y on the road, perhaps a bit disconcerting, too, in combination with the pathetic (for tarmac) tyres, off the road, you’ll see exactly why it’s an ideal setup. The KLX isn’t a hardcore bike — it’s what you’re meant to cut your teeth on, and have a laugh with your friends as you slide and tumble as you muck about. As such, firmer suspension would have made it sharper but at the expense of its addictive friendliness which, invariably would eat into your learning curve.
The Impulse is only let down by age, to be honest, and for what it has proven over the years, as a motorcycle that can withstand a ton of abuse, it deserves its place on India’s motorcycle wall of fame. Also, when you consider how well you can spec an Impulse today (think aluminium rims, proper knobbies, an MX seat, suspension upgrades) for less than a quarter of how much a new KLX will cost you, it’s impossible to relegate the Impulse to history. For most of us, it continues to remain relevant.
While it’s also true that the KLX has no contemporary competitor (the KTM 390 Enduro isn’t exactly going to be learner-friendly, I suspect), the dearth of options doesn’t automatically qualify it as your best bet. And to think it’s not really very well-specced for road use either — the MRF Mogrip Meteor FX1 tyres are hilarious on the road, the engine is unusually noisy, the 7.6-litre fuel tank gives you a range of roughly 200 km (if you choose to run it dry) and the seat is usable for an hour, or a little more, at best. Also, what use is a headlight if it performs nearly the same function as a DRL? The Impulse, with money set aside for upgrades, is a more practical bet when it comes to versatility.
But wait — this was never meant to be a comparison test! The idea of bringing these two motorcycles together was to celebrate them; the Impulse for having earned its retirement and the KLX, for promising us the wings we’ve so patiently waited for. It was meant to be a moment of ecstasy, of unfiltered happiness, until reality, in the form of the KLX’s price tag, got in the way. Are you still surprised some of us choose to live in delusions?
