The Kawasaki KLR650 has always lived squarely in that last category.

For decades, it’s been the bike leaned against gas station walls, strapped with mismatched luggage, carrying riders who may not know exactly where they’re sleeping, but know they’ll get there. It’s never been glamorous. It’s never pretended to be cutting-edge. And that’s exactly why it’s earned its place in motorcycling culture.

The tricky part is this: when someone asks, “What’s the best KLR?” the honest answer is usually another question.

What kind of riding are you really going to do?

Before talking generations, it helps to understand what the KLR isn’t.

The KLR is a tractor. A single-cylinder machine built to accept compromise and keep moving anyway. That truth hasn’t changed since the late 1980s, even as the bike itself has evolved.

The earliest KLRs, what most people call Gen 1, are lighter. They’re simpler. They ask more of the rider and give less back in comfort. But they’re also refreshingly honest. What you see is what you get.

They’re easy to work on. Easy to modify. Easy to forgive. You can feel the engine working beneath you, feel the suspension reaching its limits, feel the terrain instead of filtering it away.

For someone new to motorcycles, this generation represents a budget-friendly entry point into long-distance dreaming, but it also demands respect. There’s no traction control safety net. No electronic smoothing of mistakes. It’s a bike that teaches you why technique matters.

When Kawasaki updated the KLR in the late 2000s, the bike didn’t lose its soul, but it did grow up a bit.

Wind protection improved. Seats got wider. The bike became more willing to sit at highway speeds without feeling like it was being punished for the attempt. For riders who wanted to commute during the week and disappear down a forest road on the weekend, this generation quietly became the sweet spot.

Veteran riders will notice the added weight immediately. Newer riders might just notice that the bike feels more stable and forgiving on pavement. These years also introduced some well-known quirks, oil consumption on certain models being the most talked about. This era of the KLR feels like a handshake between generations of riders: still mechanical, still analog, but more accommodating of long miles and tired backs.

When the KLR returned in the 2020s, it came back with fuel injection, modern lighting, digital displays, and optional ABS. On paper, it looks like a major leap forward.

On the road, it still feels unmistakably like a KLR.

The engine hasn’t transformed into something aggressive. The chassis hasn’t become razor sharp. What has changed is the day-to-day experience. Cold starts are easier. Elevation changes are less dramatic. The bike asks less from the rider in exchange for reliability and predictability.

The tradeoff, of course, is weight and complexity. The KLR has never been a lightweight, and the modern version embraces that reality fully.

So which is best?

That depends on how you define success on a motorcycle.

What unites all of them is this: none of these bikes are trying to impress you. 

In a world where motorcycles keep getting faster, taller, heavier, and more complex, the KLR remains stubbornly focused on a single idea: go where you want, at your own pace, and don’t overthink it.

For riders with half a century of stories, it’s a reminder of when motorcycles were tools first and statements second.

For riders still dreaming, it’s proof that adventure doesn’t require perfection; just get out and ride.