Reasonably stylish, reasonably fast - but above all, reasonable.
Something along those lines must be PostIt-noted to the wall of the fluorescent-lit cubicle forest where the "Fazer" series of motorcycles was first developed back in the '90s. The design philosophy seems simple: First, domesticate an R6 sportbike by detuning the engine and adjusting the ergonomics to fit homo sapiens. Then, swap out some of the R6's exquisite chassis components for...whatever's cheap, and add a few creature comforts to help the thing work in the real world. Now market what you've just created as an entry-level sport tourer; a grown-up commuter with a dash of sporting feistiness. Ta-da, you have the early FZS600 Fazer, then the follow-up FZ6 and the follow-up follow-up known as the FZ6 S2. (pay no heed to the steel-framed pretender coated in ugly plastic, known but rightfully ignored as the FZ6R)
Despite humble origins as the R6's nerdy fraternal twin, the modern FZ6 S2 amounts to more than the sum of its parts. It was priced at just over US $7k back when it was new in 2007, but used examples in near-perfect condition can be found in the sub-$4k range. Even at that price point, you're not buying some sacked-out beater with a sputtering carburetor and the engine from a tractor. This is a Yamaha, and Yamahas don't age. 36,000km and over 10 years on my particular example, and it feels like new. The fit and finish is exemplary and the mechanicals are virtually faultless (we'll skirt around the rear ABS pump for now). A decade of riding and the engine still fires up on subtle suggestion from the starter before settling into a happy idle purr.
Under 6,000 RPM there's enough grunt to keep pace with traffic, though your pals on torquier v-twins will beat you across the intersection nine times out of ten. The effects of long-term exposure to the 5,000+ RPM vibrations are not well studied, but anecdotal evidence suggests they cause you to wear sideways baseball caps and address everyone as "dudebro".
Do you even shift, dudebro? Yes, on the FZ6 you shift a lot. Why do the gear ratios have to be sogoddamnclose on a bike with no racing ambitions whatsoever? First gear is way too tall and sixth is too short; no matter the speed, I'm in either first, second or sixth depending on if I want adequate power or feeling in my hands and feet. At least snicking through gears is clean and tidy once you're past the clunktastic 1-2 shift. The mechanical clutch, like every Yamaha I've ever ridden, is relatively heavy and has a narrow friction zone.
Though that inline-4 engine is buttery smooth, in my view it tries too hard to be like its racy frat bro relative, the R6. It screams all the way up to 14,000 RPM with the fury of a hundred angry Japanese horses. That kind of power delivery on this kind of bike is as out of place as that one Hawaiian shirt that Dillard's still carries amidst its fields of solid-color dresswear. You can forego your custom "J4CK4SS" license plate - we all know what you are when we hear that whiny I-4 dopplering by at 2am.
Now, chassis - the rear shock is a willing partner in your spirited adventures through spiraling roundabouts, and the brakes are sharp. The front fork, a conventional damper rod setup devised by contemporaries of Plato, is terrifying. The spring rate seems fine for a 90kg rider, but you can't tell because the damping...what damping? There's no damping. Handling during aggressive riding is therefore squirrelly - mid-corner adjustments, road imperfections or choppy inputs to any of the controls can upset the chassis.
So, all these dynamic characteristics - the revvy engine, the sharp brakes, the snatchy clutch and throttle, the sketchy suspension - can we really write them off as flaws? Well, yes we can, but somehow they actually make aggressive riding more engaging. The FZ teaches its rider to be smooth and it rewards good technique. Every green light is an opportunity to create the perfect magic potion of throttle, clutch and body position. No bike will give you an A+ for being heavy-handed with your controls mid-corner, but the FZ6 is the English teacher who triple-underlines your non-ironic use of the word "plethora" and writes "REALLY?" and a frowny-face in the margin. And for all its front-end flakery, it seems to be mostly bark and little bite - the few times when some German road imperfections swiped my front end from underneath me mid-corner, the wheel rediscovered grip quickly rather than sucking me into a low-side. So far so good. *knock on wood*
For touring, it's a mixed bag. It has no trouble powering through wind at highway speeds, the tank will take you 250-300km between fillups and the seat isn't bad. Taller riders should consider a (much) taller seat and a dopey-looking touring windshield, as the stock fairing is worse than useless on the motorway. The tingly vibrations at motorway speed are pretty much unavoidable (let's blame the gear ratios again) and of course, don't even think about going offroad.
On the mid-range commute, it feels at home. The factory center stand means it parks in the footprint of a scooter, and the helmet lock is an everyday convenience you won't find on a $25,000 Multistrada. If you're gentle, you'll get decent fuel mileage - I can't say exactly how much, but I will say I spend a little more on fuel per unit distance in the Netherlands as I did in the USA with a 20mpg Mustang. (fuel here is about 1.50 euro/liter, which works out to $6.20/gal)
Speaking of the Multistrada - am I crazy or do these two bikes look quite similar at first glance?
As eye candy, the FZ6 works OK - especially next to other bikes of the mid-2000s such as the cyclops-inspired Kawasaki ER-6N or the Suzuki Gladius *wince*. The underseat exhaust, diamond-shaped swingarm and the blacked-out engine are nice touches. Upon its saddle, you need not worry about being mistaken for a fashion-deaf fan of wearable technology.
All in all, it was cheap and it was good.