Call this ‘naked’ bike a pleasure model

I’ve never ridden blindfolded. But for argument’s sake, let’s say I was riding blind and plopped atop Kawasaki’s new Versys. Italy would be my first guess as to the bike’s origin, followed by Germany, then Japan. Kawasaki’s new 650 cc naked bike is that premium of a ride.

Only after the blindfold was peeled away to reveal the reasonable $6,899 price tag would I have suspected it traveled over the Pacific instead of the Atlantic. I don’t mean this as a dis to the Japanese but a compliment for building the sort of bike that made me want to take the long way home.

Kawasaki is billing the Versys as a “naked” bike, but it’s wearing at least a string bikini’s worth of body work. There’s an adjustable, pint-sized windshield and a small front fairing to keep the wind at bay on this do-it-all street bike. The Versys may be a stripped-to-the-skivvies version of the Ninja 650R sport bike, but as its name indicates, it’s been tamed and finessed into a more versatile machine that’s equally at home on canyon roads, congested streets, even cross-country hauls, thanks to a host of travel accessories.

The Ninja 650R and Versys share the same liquid-cooled, parallel twin powerplant, but on the street-savvy Versys the torque and horsepower have been dialed back a notch and the suspension’s been upgraded. The upside-down fork is now adjustable, as is the shock out back; both ends feature an extra inch of travel to manage not-enough-money-in-the-budget-to-keep-them-up public roads. The proportions on the Versys are also a nudge longer, heavier, wider, taller and more upright than they are on the Ninja -- further indications that this isn’t a bike for the track.

Though it may be just as fun. I picked up the Versys from Kawasaki’s Irvine digs just as rush hour was kicking in, but that didn’t matter. Before the carpool lane got too congested, I was riding giddily along, equally impressed with its light weight and agility, and its frisky torque and twang, which didn’t let up until I was approaching the red.

Even in slower moving traffic, it was a pleasure. The saddle height and width of the Versys are both 33.1 inches -- tall enough to look through the windows of pickups and SUVs but narrow enough to slip between them without knocking off mirrors.

Shorter folks, take heart: In a move that seems to have been ripped from the BMW playbook, Kawasaki offers a lower, slimmer gel seat.

I found the stock seat to be comfortable to the point of being tour-worthy, which is another possible use for the Versys. The stock windshield is a little on the short side for riders who like to cross state lines on two wheels, but Kawasaki offers a taller one -- as well as saddlebags and a top case.

Kawasaki claims the bike gets 55 to 65 miles per gallon. Call me a punk, but I was getting something on the order of 46 to 47, which is still quite good. It means that filling up the 5-gallon tank would get me to the Nevada border.

The Versys was first introduced as a 2007 year model in November 2006, but it was only available in Canada and Europe, where the market for naked bikes is stronger than it is in the U.S. At the time, Kawasaki didn’t plan to bring its Versys to the U.S., but American dealers were fielding lots of phone calls, so voila. Ten months later, the Versys is available in the States.

Make that 49 states. In Kawasaki’s rush to meet unexpected American demand, the manufacturer wasn’t able to meet California’s evaporative emissions regulations. The Versys meets EPA, CARB and Euro 3 standards for emissions from the tailpipe, but it doesn’t have the charcoal canister California requires to capture fumes from the tank -- a requirement that necessitates some frame and tank changes to make room. Those changes will be made for an as-yet-undetermined future model year; Californians who want the bike before then will have to wait until someone out of state racks up 7,500 miles and decides to sell.

The new Versys is so fun that racking up those miles should be easy. Getting someone to part with the bike? That might be tough.

susan.carpenter@latimes.com