When I first saw the BSA Gold Star 650, I wanted one for myself. I’m a sucker for retro bikes as well as big singles, and it’s unlikely that a bigger single will be made in India. So what if that Lucas-inspired tail-light looked too Japanese for its own good? That was an easy fix. All I wanted was an honest retro big single, and the Gold Star promised to be just that. The fact that it carried one of the most famous names in motorcycling history, from one of the most special machines I’ve ridden in my life (a DBD34), was just the pinstripe-icing on the metal-cake. And since nostalgia is always special, a motorcycle channelling it must also be so. Right?
So, it was a bit underwhelming when I rode it for the first few kilometres in its low- and mid-range, and found it to be rather… flat. I can’t describe the feeling any other way. A thought surfaced, though I brushed it away. There was plenty of useable torque, of course; a big single will always have it, but I still felt like it was missing something. The thought called out again.
Ignoring it, I wound open the Gold Star’s throttle on an empty fast road. The lovely meters harnessing the anti-clockwise spirit of ye olde Smiths Chronometrics smoothly swung around until the speedometer pointed at 140 kph. Like a proper Gold Star, this one made the most sense when the going was fast, too. This was more like it. And yet, it… wasn’t. Now, the aforementioned thought was back, shouting at me to stop right away and undertake a quick Google search. And I did.
You see, I’d expected/assumed that the new Gold Star’s engine would be a long-stroke unit like every Gold Star ever made — which it’s not. The new one’s 100-mm piston oscillates along an 83-mm stroke. Ah, there we go; no wonder it didn’t feel like I expected it to. Then I remembered that while the piston diameter was proudly mentioned at the bike’s launch, the stroke never was. As everyone knows, the engine is the heart of every motorcycle and the core of its character. Or lack thereof.
And that brings me to the Gold Star’s sound. I expected Leonard Cohen but instead got a disqualified contestant from Britain’s Got Talent. It lacked the thundering resonance of a big single at all speeds, and so I thought it was too polite for its own good. It had a pea-shooter exhaust, sure, but not one that roared on the throttle and twittered when I rolled off (like the old Goldies). Heck, not even a half-decent burble. Clearly, this was not quite the resounding thumper I’d hoped for. And I feel there are two major reasons for it — its 201-kg kerb weight and a performance-strangling emissions-compliant state of tune. Not much can be done about either, I suppose. It’s a shame because the Gold Star is indeed a rather likeable motorcycle.
I certainly didn’t expect handling to be the standout aspect on a big single. However, the Gold Star’s on-road behaviour could well be the standard for this segment. It was clear that the chassis-suspension setup favoured stability over plushness, but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. If anything, it only encouraged me to keep winding the throttle open, safe in the knowledge that the rest of the bike was always up for chasing speed. There was no undue pitching or wallowing, just a straightforward point-and-shoot ease to every manoeuvre, and it swept through traffic and around fast corners well enough to do its race-winning ancestors proud. Oh, how I wished there was a Clubman version already.
The gearbox was excellent, too, with lovely snappy shifts both ways. The lack of a positive stopper, though, always felt like missing half a step on a flight of stairs. Nonetheless, the ’box made great use of the 652cc single’s 45 bhp and 5.60 kgm; the transmission’s well-spaced ratios and the engine’s mapping produced a linear and relentless shove from a standstill to well beyond legal speeds, though hitting the claimed 160+ kph top speed might require a lot of road. However, I think that’s besides the point for an all-rounder proposition like the Gold Star.
In the real world, the Gold Star was an easy bike to just get on and go, whether fast or slow. And I imagine a lot of people will like it for that. And if you were concerned about vibes and heat, well, don’t be. The Gold Star ran smoother than I’d expected, and the engine never threatened to roast my legs, either. Also, over the course of two tankfuls, I got 20 kpl, which should be regarded as the worst-possible figure because I rode it with a liberal right hand as much as possible. That’s a bit over 200 km of range, which is about the amount of time I’d want to spend on the wide and flat seat before stopping to let the blood reflow into my backside. And every time I was off the bike, my eyes were riveted to that beautiful engine.
The Gold Star’s Rotax-derived engine is an example of how to make a beautiful engine. It echoes BSA’s pre-unit era, and every detail is remarkable. That pseudo timing-wheel cover looks spot on. The deeply finned barrel and head more than look the part. And then there’s the beautifully finished exhaust pipe with its pea-shooter end. Anyone could be fooled into thinking this motorcycle doesn’t come with fuel injection and ABS, it looks that authentic.
However, that gorgeous engine absolutely should’ve been as shiny as possible, not coated with various drab shades of paint. There is indeed such a thing as too much paint, especially on a retro motorcycle named after one of the most legendary bikes of all time. I suppose the shinier Legacy Edition addresses some of this, but not to the extent that I’d like. Also, some of the components used — levers, switchgear, grips — also fell short of living up to that.
In fact, at least for me, ‘fell short’ was the phrase I was left with for the whole motorcycle. And that was long before the one occasion on which the bike started spluttering past 4000 rpm, and I had to stop and restart it. It wasn’t what I expected on a brand-new bike with less than 500 km on the odometer. But I’d forgive all of this in an instant if only it had the sound and soul that a big single must emphatically possess.
Even so, as a 650 single, the Gold Star stands in a category of one; that’s not likely to change any time soon, and comparisons to other motorcycles of a similar displacement are futile. It is light on its feet, quick and fast enough, and has that hallowed star logo on its tank. Whether it deserves that last bit or not depends on your own experience and perspective, and on whether you believe or not that an oversquare engine can really be the heart of a Gold Star.
In the end, I found myself looking at the Gold Star with a ‘Hmm. Interesting…’ and not the wide-eyed ‘Whoa! What a motorcycle!’ that I’d been looking forward to. Perhaps expectations are the root cause of disappointment, after all. Nonetheless the fact remains that mere competence never translates into desirability, and the Gold Star isn’t quite the nostalgic statement or the family heirloom that I’d want. It is a good and solid motorcycle, it’s even fun to ride, but it falls short of feeling special. And as I mentioned at the beginning, nostalgia can’t be anything but special. I still like it, but the want is gone. Now to see if history can sell itself.
