Imagine the year 1992. You’re a young rider in the UK or Australia. You’ve just bought a grey-import ZZR400. You clip the key into the ignition, swing a leg over the wide, plush seat, and sink in. The clip-ons are low, but not punishing. The footpegs are rear-set, but your knees aren’t in your chin.
They love the sound of the gear-driven cam whine (on early models). They love the way the twin headlights illuminate a dark backroad like a pair of guiding eyes. They love that their 30-year-old bike can still run all day at 180 km/h without breaking a sweat, then idle in traffic without overheating. zzr 400
This is the story of a machine that taught a generation that speed could be comfortable. Imagine the year 1992
Here is the mechanical heart of the story: the frame. You clip the key into the ignition, swing
It will start on the first crank. And it will whisper, "Where to, captain?"