The Zero S is a bike that gets one thing right immediately. It looks like the future – a future in which everyone is a badass.
The energy transition in the automotive industry has been something of a disaster. Not only are four-wheeled EVs and hybrids expensive, but manufacturers have somehow managed to make them ugly and dull to drive. We can't even blame AI for the design slop taking over our streets. It's the humans.
What should have been a glorious renaissance of electric technology has become an avalanche of tedium and complexity. Nobody understands hybrids, everything is expensive to repair, and charging infrastructure is ropey and inconsistent. Society's addiction to dinosaur juice seems difficult to shift.
I don't want, in this review, to get into the stale tropes which irk me about EV writing. There is no need to evangelise a type of power unit or take an ethical stance on batteries. I'm not going to complain further about broken charging points, or that it takes more time to charge a battery than fill up a tank.
Enough TED talk. What matters on a motorcycle is how a bike moves and feels. Fitzroy Motor is hardly a policy think tank. If you met the editorial team in person, you'd be surprised that a fully formed thought ever passes through our heads.
But one thing we do know is that incentives work. I'm not talking just about money. I'm talking about creating gut feel. Want people to get excited about a technology? Make it... gorgeous. Make it inspiring, aspirational, poster-worthy. Give it a vibe. Make it resonate at the frequency of a Bugatti EB110, a Ferrari Dino, a Fiat 125P. Build it with taste and love, and they will come.
The motorcycling community is a great place to conduct these experiments. We have two fewer wheels, one passenger at most - with many of us preferring to ride alone, please and thank you. Our fun comes from a power unit with some rubberised circles attached.
With that said, we were very pleased to have the Zero S to ourselves for an extended test: an 11kW, 220-ish kilo, Pirelli-shod slice of Things To Come from Santa Cruz, USA.
The Zero S isn't innovation theatre. It's a bike designed very much in the tradition of lusty naked motorcycles which, when stationary, make you wonder why you aren't on the back of them and moving at speed.
Whoever did the design work on this bike deserves fulsome praise. The Z-Force lithium-ion power unit and lightweight 75-7 motor are cocooned in a steel trellis frame connected to a beefy custom swingarm, with the power and drive components integrated in a way that gives the Zero S a subtle aggression. It's an almost identical setup to the more powerful sibling SR/F, so visually you're not missing out. From the stark monoshock to the angular shaping of the tank and the wheel fairings, and the way the motor and swingarm integrate the drive belt, finally we get a nod to futurism without cliché. Those with a penchant for detail will enjoy the battery air inlets on the underside of the bike, quite literally the coolest parts of the chassis.
Some people in the reviewing business say looks are subjective and its only performance that matters; I say the looks are the performance when you're not on the thing, which is most of the time. It's like going to an opera and closing your eyes or plugging your ears. A piece of technology you ride has to excite you viscerally. The Zero S pulls a backwards glance out of you when you're walking off, and that is a huge plus.
One thing that surprised me about riding the Zero S around town and on the highway was not missing engine noise. This is always touted as one of the main draws of petrol motorcycles. It's another stimulus - aural and physical - alongside gyroscopic sensation and the bodily experience of G-forces on acceleration and turning.
I didn't however yearn for background roar and vibrations between my legs. In fact, I found riding the Zero S close to the national speed limit a strangely zen experience, in which I noticed everything else around me just that little bit more vividly in the absence of other distractions. It's like the difference between blasting around in a speedboat and surfing. The sensation of speed is not dulled; if anything, without constant revs, you feel like you're going quicker than you are. You may well be, in fact, so easy is it to wind the throttle up a bit more and watch the numbers tick up on the dashboard.
And wind the throttle up you will. There's no denying that the Zero S is objectively quite heavy for its looks, given the weight of the battery and the electric power unit. This cuts both ways.
On the move, the S feels planted when carving, even if it is not the most agile motorcycle to turn. The Showa suspension seats the S nicely on the road while cruising, stiff enough to feel sporty but without making the ride feel brittle. At rest, it's a chunky thing to wheel about. The upside is that in town, the low centre of gravity alongside the very high amount of torque on offer makes it a very pleasant and effective urban motorcycle, steady at very low speeds and easily controlled in filtering.
I quite enjoyed flipping the bike into Eco mode while riding in the city and seeing just how virtuous and sensible I could be, using every change in elevation to squeeze a bit more goodness back into the power unit. That is, before blasting off at the lights using all 132Nm of direct drive torque (the wildly punchy Triumph Scrambler musters 110Nm). If you do ever get bored of straight-line thrills - you probably won't - there are other cool electric features to play with, like a reverse mode for parking and built-in navigation with a customisable dashboard.
In the UK, the Zero S also somewhat bizarrely falls into the A1 licence category thanks to its 11kW motor, despite having 60hp equivalent of peak power on tap. A curious proposition for a 17-year-old who would otherwise be doomed to a puttering 125cc.
All this makes the Zero S a very pleasurable urban riding and point-to-point commuting machine. For longer motorway trips, what you can achieve is really dictated by realistic range, riding style, and ease of charging at either end. Zero suggest a 'City' range of 163 miles, with low speed and high-speed highway commuting ranges of 120 and 102 miles on a full charge respectively. Our review model had the Power Tank upgrade which extends range even further at the expense of on-bike storage. Could you get 140 real-world miles out of it? Quite possibly, but as with all battery powered vehicles it comes down to the constant power demand you put on it. The faster you want to get there, the greater the drain.
There are a few lessons you learn on the Zero S. The first is that pedestrians will be blissfully unaware of your silent progress. Get used to planting yourself in peripheral vision and using the horn to alert the least observant. The second is how keeping charge in the battery becomes an obsession. Where instant torque is fun, harvesting energy through engine braking is the minigame you never realised would get you hooked.
Third and last is the most shocking revelation of all: the Zero S feels like just another motorcycle you want to spend time on. The ease of turning the key and just moving off is dulled only by the occasional need to check where the chargers will be at your destination. I felt like a motorcyclist on this bike, not an eco-crusader - and didn't feel like I was losing any of the soul of a petrol-powered machine. In some sense you swap a little bit less noise of your own for greater immersion in your surroundings, which is not an unpleasant trade-off.
So, the Zero S looks cool, makes you look good, saves the planet. What's the catch? Well, the MSRP of just under £16k means it is not yet in the realms of affordability for the average motorcyclist.
However, for that you do get a rare Californian machine and a genuinely new experience on the road. If you have easy charging at home or work, don't mind thinking ahead a little, and like the idea of owning something uncommon, the Zero S is a serious contender.
And if you're leaving fossil fuels behind, you may as well look damn good doing it.
