Royal Enfield Guerrilla 450 Review — Fighting Fit

I suppose one reading of the first paragraph when typing “guerrilla” into Wikipedia should be enough to make most people uncomfortable. Why anyone from a company as incumbent in the mid-capacity segment as Royal Enfield thought this name would be appropriate for a motorcycle that is the first real-world shot at an ever-growing significant chunk globally is beyond me. by me. Here’s my reasoning – RE’s J-series bikes are full of character, but leisurely; the 650 twins are fast but not everyone wants a twin; The Sherpa 450 is RE’s first true modern single in every sense of the word, and therefore the one that took the world by storm. It was not supposed to be named after some form of “petty war”. By the way, the quote bit is one of the ways Wikipedia defines it.

RE had to make this bike, of course – having developed an all-new platform for the Himalayan, another bike (and more?) based on its underpinnings was inevitable. Everyone also knew it since the popular Indian adventure bike was reincarnated. The fact that this new bike didn’t directly and emphatically provide a link to either of RE’s junior Scram or Hunter lines – is somewhat confusing. But I guess that’s what “differentiation” is about. And it’s a good thing the Guerrilla 450 is beyond such platitudes.

Now the phrase “real world” implies one’s ordinary environment. Mine certainly doesn’t include the twisty mountain roads near Barcelona, ​​Spain, but the Guerrilla never seemed out of place there. I rode it through more corners in a 160km day there than I had in the last six months, and the Guerrilla took it all in its remarkable stride. Remarkable, I say, because even though it was 11kg lighter than the Himalaya, it still weighed 185kg, and that’s not a light bike for me. And even so, it felt a lot lighter in motion than the spec sheet suggested, and that should encourage anyone swinging a leg over their low seat for a scramble.

Also, definitely don’t make the mistake of thinking this is just a Himalayan with smaller wheels. Through a series of subtle and obvious changes, Guerrilla boasted a personality that could be described as “quiet annoyance”. The latter part of this contrasting description was due to its nimble handling; the guerilla and track numbers translated into a bike that kept its nose to the ground, always hunting corners. And its fat tires and long wheelbase provided the confidence to put as much of the Sherpa 450’s power to the ground as I wanted. Or was capable.

On the twisty mountain roads we were on, one sequence quickly became a familiar one – the nudge of triple-digit speeds on the straights, the Guerrilla’s intake roar raising the speed signs; climbing a corner indicated by a chevron-laced sign, downshifting as needed, revs rising on entry; trying to draw a smooth line through the corner without worrying if it got tight as the Guerrilla would simply provide more lean angle to aim for the exit; taking a big hand on the throttle to let the engine scream into the next corner. And this sequence repeated itself about as many times as the number of Classic 350s sold each month.

However, I always had to be in the right gear(s) at the right time; The Guerrilla didn’t like it when I tried to pull away in third from a slow corner. This meant frequent taps of the gearshift, even though the rev band was quite generous. The good thing was that the engine stayed smooth all the way through the midrange, which was where it needed to be on the Guerrilla. And on the one occasion I saw an easy 140km/h on the speedometer, I felt a buzz all over the bike. Nothing went on the fritz when I slammed on the brakes, though; from all sorts of speeds, the Guerrilla was predictable and confident in its deceleration. Except that one time I tried to make him do something stupid and I succeeded almost too well.

Going into a fast downhill on the left, I braked, which caused the bike to rear up and head towards the Armco. All it took was a light pull on the bar though and I was headed in the right direction again. And at that moment, I knew the Guerrilla was a forgiving bike after all, and soon I was riding it harder than I had before. Yeah, he didn’t like being cornered, preferring a better set of inputs to a bunch of hamfisted ones, but that’s about it. Also, with the roads largely bright, the ride quality was excellent. However, the few bumps I did encounter left me wondering if things would be the same on continuously bumpy surfaces, i.e. back home roads.

Moreover, my back had begun to complain towards the end of the day and I was already making a mental note to ask RE for the optional taller and flatter seat for our test bike in India. It also looked better to my eyes with its undistorted profile. And that brings me to the appearance of the Guerrilla. There’s no mistaking it for anything other than a roadster, although the off-road vibrations of the tires might cause a curious frown or two. Also, of the five color options for the Guerrilla, we found the base version’s plain silver to be the most unassuming. From this you can deduce what I thought about the others. While we’re on the subject, beautiful motorcycles tend to look best in solid colors, right?

After all, what is Guerrilla? A Hunter or a Scram, or a bit of both? Well, it’s an option for those who find the Himalaya too intimidating, the Triumph Speed ​​400 too small, the KTM 390 Duke too shrill and the Husqvarna Svartpilen 401 too obscure. If you’re thinking of any other 400, don’t mind. It’s a modern RE single that can do so much more than previous RE singles could ever do. While other manufacturers are busy targeting its 350s, RE has gone and launched an attack on a higher battlefield for the first time. And don’t read too much into the bike’s name either – it actually takes the herd and does a good job.