The Yamaha FZ6 - Nothing But the Bare Essentials

Back when I started riding motorcycles in the early 90s, I had a theory. I believed that motorcycles - sportbikes, in particular - were the staple of my happiness. According to my theory, a sportbike, a twisty road, and some fresh tires were all I needed to be happy. With the FZ6, I was inadvertently able to test that theory.

Yamaha's FZ6 is built on the same sort of minimalist idea. It has no roadracing credentials. It lacks the sleek, fully faired lines of the ultra-aggressive supersport machines. It doesn't boast class-leading lap times, top speeds, or dyno room numbers. It was designed to be a simple, practical, fun bike of sorts, a machine that could do a little bit of everything - the Swiss Army Knife of sportbikes, so to speak.

Given the popularity of supersport machines these days, it's easy to question the motive behind a minimalist sporting machine. Are they for newer riders who want machines without the "edge" of today's supersport machines? Are they for practical riders who don't want to deal with the aggressive ergonomics and peaky powerbands of today's rocketships? As a guy who talks to riders on a regular basis at work and at play, people often ask me about my opinions of and experiences with different bikes. Last year, there was one bike that more people asked me about than any other machine - that bike was the FZ6. I had to get one - for the people!

After making a few calls and sending a few emails, I made arrangements to grab a test unit from Yamaha headquarters. It first fell into the hands of fellow CityBike contributor Jim Thurber, who thrashed around on it for a few days. Eventually, it made its way into my own greedy clutches. Given the fantastic weather and the fact that my personal steed was having carburetion issues, I couldn't have been happier. Before taking the keys from him, I took a moment to look it over.

I remember spending a lot of time looking at the frame, formed through a "controlled fill" mold process that involves no welds. The result was a lightweight, rigid chassis - something that has generally been used only in high performance track machines. The dual exhaust added an element of style to it, an element missing from past sport standards. In the past, "economical" sportbikes with partial fairings have had a bit of a "parts bin special" feel to them, as they were essentially detuned supersport motors jammed into econobox frames with budget suspension components. By comparison, the FZ6 had a finished feel to it, and an - something previous middleweight sport standards have lacked.

The heart of the FZ6 is the R6 motor - which propelled the blue team to the AMA 600 Supersport championship in 2004. The FZ6 supposedly contained the same R6 motor, detuned for midrange and low end.

My first thought when gassing the throttle at 4000 rpm was "Wow, if this is an R6 motor detuned for midrange and low end, the R6 must be suck below 7000 rpm!" Truthfully, it wasn't a complete dog - but I did expect something more. At lower speeds and in lower gears, the FZ6 sprang out of corners effortlessly with the motor buzzing along in the midrange. Similar fists full of throttle at similar rpms in 5th or 6th gear didn't result in much of anything - the revs had to be up for it to get going.

On paper, the brakes aren't anything special. Rubber lines, two piston calipers, 298 mm discs. No six-piston calipers, no braided lines, no radial mounts - just a good set of stock pads. If I really wanted to test the brakes, I probably could have throttled up to triple digit speed and hauled on the binders, just to see how well they would scrub the speed. I could have done it a number of times in succession, just to see if they would fade. But that's not real world street testing - my world, anyway. For the way I ride a motorcycle on the street, the brakes of the FZ6 were nothing short of excellent.

The biggest issue people seem to have with the FZ6 is the vibration in the bars. Jim pointed it out to me before handing it over, while others have brought it up on different internet forums. While it wasn't hand numbing, I could see it becoming somewhat of an annoyance on longer rides. Supposedly it's only an issue on newer bikes, and goes away in time. I tend to think people's hands eventually numb up and get used to it.

The vibration seems to give the impression that it's working harder than it actually is. Before riding the FZ6, I read a few descriptions of its powerband, with a few riders commenting on the strength of its top end. It had a strong, linear pull above 7 or 8000 rpm, but without it never took off the way supersport machines do. As much as it seemed to buzz

Before handing me the keys, Thurber also told me about his qualms about the LCD tachometer, and its apparent worthlessness. If I regularly used a tachometer, I'd probably think it was pretty worthless as well. My seat of the pants tachometer seemed to work fairly well though. If the bike wasn't really going anywhere, it was probably under 7000 rpm. If it was vibrating like something you can buy at an adult accessory store, it's probably over 7000 rpm.

The handling seemed light enough on the trip home, prompting me to plan out a number of different road trips through different twisty backroads. And then someone pointed out the nail in the back tire. I didn't think it was too much of a setback at first - I just needed to take the tire off, throw it in the back of the truck, and swap it out at work.

But then my truck died. Seven days, one new Bridgestone BT020, and one new truck later, I once again looked forward to doing the backroad boogie - when the skies started pissing down on me. Eventually, the skies cleared up and the roads up. Unfortunately, it happened exactly three days before I had to return the FZ6. I had barely ridden the thing, and I already had to bring it back. I called upon my powers of management, and put together a plan.

My imagination went into overtime as I attempted to plan the weekend out. I thought I could pull off a 450-mile ride down the scenic route to Southern California. To add to that, I hoped to pull a 200-mile loop in the mountains between San Diego and LA with some riding buddies in the southland. The icing on the cake would be a 100-mile, two-up jaunt with a very attractive girl I met the last time I was in LA. On paper, it was a dream weekend.

But once again, things failed to add up the way they did on paper. My three-day weekend was cut short by the fact that we had no photos of the FZ6 - day one would be dedicated to a photo shoot in the local hills. Then my riding buddy cancelled out, as his truck experienced some sort of clutch failure. Lastly, the girl I was supposed to meet with had a personal crisis of sorts, causing her to cancel out as well. I wasn't left with much, but I was determined to make the most of it.

On my trip down to Los Angeles, I managed to unload the FZ6 at the intersection of Highway 58 and I-5, about 15 or so miles from one of the best sections of road in the state. With the sun approaching the horizon, I hustled along the 10 or so miles of bee-line straight roads on the floor of the valley, hoping to get a little bit of the backroad boogie in before the lights went down. Buzzing along (and I do mean "buzzing") at 80-90 mph, I played around with my riding posture for a bit, in an attempt to get both my helmet and body out of the windblast. I say attempt because no matter what position I was in, the stream of air blasted me all the same. It wasn't a turbulent blast of air, but it was a blast nonetheless. If an FZ6 were to make its way into my hands, the higher OEM Yamaha windscreen would be one of the first modifications I'd make to it.

Eventually, the road climbed off of the valley floor in a series of smooth curves. Not just any curves, but smooth, banked, looping arcs of pavement - the kind that would make most racetracks jealous. Positive camber, cherry pavement, long strings of transitions - the road just had a rhythm to it.

Together, the FZ6 and I danced to that rhythm. Left, right, up, down, the FZ6 playfully carved its way through different bends. It was almost like a kung-fu movie, the way the road seemed to strike at me with a relentless series of curves, chutes, and hairpins. The FZ6 was undeterred, handling every shot with its lightning quick handling, striking back by carrying speed through different bends before throttling out of them. I couldn't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much on a public road. Or for that matter, on a motorcycle.

As much fun as it was, the FZ6 still had its faults. The electronic fuel injection system felt a little less than perfect, making it a little tricky to be smooth in the low speeds. The transition from off-throttle to partial-throttle (and vice versa) was a little bit less than smooth. The tires left something to be desired as well, as the stiff sidewalls of the BT020s caused bumps upset the handle anytime the road was less than perfect, if the bike was anywhere but vertical.

I eventually made my way back to the truck stop, laughing, grinning, and giggling. Rides like that are what drew me into motorcycling in the first place. Actually, it was more than just the ride - it was the whole experience. The warm climate, the smooth-yet-grippy tarmac, the picturesque backdrop - together, it all just overloaded my senses in a way that was nothing short of incredible.

After the weekend, I called the girl I was originally supposed to ride with in LA, just to tell her what she missed out on. I told her about the road, the sights, the sensations, and how I reacted to it all.

"No way," she commented. "Did you seriously laugh and yell in your helmet?"

As hard as it might seem for a non-rider to believe, I did. I had the perfect weather, the perfect road, and the perfect bike for it. It's as though I danced the evening away on the mountaintops, with absolutely stunning scenery in the background, with an incredibly capable partner. I couldn't help but smile when I thought about it.

In the end, things might not have worked out exactly the way I had planned them to. I didn't get the statewide, weekend-long sport riding adventure. I didn't get the girl in the end. But I did get the chance to ride an absolutely fun motorcycle on one of the best roads in Central California, and I walked away with a smile. I can't ask for much more than that.

And according to my original theory about bikes, roads, life and happiness, I don't need to.

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