Too quiet for Bucharest
After 4,500 kilometers through Europe, my conclusion about Pan America was quite simple: I like it.
I like it very much.
I feel great on it, I like how it rides, I like how it looks, and after days of riding through the Dolomites, highways, trails, and a thousand kilometers a day, I had reached that very good point in my relationship with a motorcycle where you no longer have to constantly analyze what it's doing.
Just go.
And, honestly, I couldn't really find anything I didn't like.
Or almost nothing.
Because, isn't it, nothing is perfect.
After returning home, I continued to use Pan America almost daily, including to go to the office. Beyond the obvious pleasure of riding a motorcycle, in Bucharest there is also a more pragmatic argument: time.
By car, I have to set aside about an hour, sometimes even an hour and a half, depending on traffic, to get to the office. By motorbike, I can get there in a maximum of 35 minutes.
You don't have to be very good at math to understand the advantage.
And after a few days of commuting, I discovered something that I had never noticed in the Dolomites.
The Pan America is almost invisible in traffic.
Actually, "invisible" is not the right word.
It is "inaudible".
Or "inaudible", if you allow me to invent a word.
And here I don't want to get into the eternal discussion about traffic filtering, legislation, who is right and who is wrong. That's not what the story is about. Let's stick to the practical side: one of the great advantages of a motorcycle in the city is precisely the fact that you can slip through traffic more easily.
And Bucharest, at least in my experience, is actually quite friendly to bikers. If drivers see or hear you, they usually try to make way for you. I'm not saying that everyone does this, nor that we live in a biker's paradise, but I very often meet people who move a little to the side when they see me coming.
The problem was the "I see myself coming" part.
Because the Pan America, with its original exhaust, is so civilized that often the drivers only found out I was next to them when I was already there.
So the solution seemed obvious.
I had to make myself heard.
But I didn't want a motorcycle that would constantly roar. I like my neighbors and I guess they also like to sleep at seven in the morning when I leave for the office.
I wanted, in other words, to be able to choose.
When I was at Faak, I had stopped by the Dr. Jekill & Hyde booth. I had known about their systems for a while and the idea of a flap exhaust seemed exactly what I was looking for: civilized when it needed to be civilized and much more present when you wanted it to be.
I just had two problems.
The first was the price.
The second was that, in terms of design, the evacuation for the Pan America was quite similar to the original.
And the original evacuation of Pan America...
Let's just say I don't think it'll end up in an industrial design museum anytime soon.
Then, almost by chance, I came across MCJ .
An Italian producer that, I admit, I had never heard of before.
And surprise: they had exactly the kind of system I was looking for for the Pan America. Exhaust with flap, homologated, the ability to control the sound and, very important for me, a completely different design.
Plus, at a considerably lower price.
I liked it immediately.
But what finally convinced me wasn't just the appearance.
It was the sound.
It has a deeper, more guttural tone and, at least for my taste, seems to have more personality. It sounds like a big engine, without turning the motorcycle into a very effective way to find out how many neighbors can get off in front of the block at once.
So I ordered it.
And now he's on a motorcycle.
In my opinion, the exhaust fits the Pan America very well. Very well indeed. It visibly changes the rear of the bike and gives it a look that I think is much more appropriate than the original exhaust.
There is also something that doesn't completely convince me: the LED at the end of the exhaust.
He's not really my type.
But it doesn't bother me enough to ruin the relationship over that.
The really interesting part, however, is what happens when you start the engine.
With the flap closed, I can leave home in the morning without announcing to the whole neighborhood that Prof' is going to work.
But when I need to be heard, I press the button and the engine immediately gains a voice.
And the difference in traffic is obvious.
I approach between the columns of cars, open the flap, and suddenly the drivers start to know I'm there. And the reaction I see most often is the same: a little left, a little right, and the place appears.
Thank you.
However, there is one more detail that I really liked.
The system automatically opens the throttle when the engine exceeds approximately 4,000 rpm.
And this is where things get fun.
Because it's not just about being heard in traffic anymore. When you accelerate more decisively, the engine changes its voice just when it starts to get interesting.
Pan America seems to be gaining a little more personality.
No imaginary horsepower, no miraculously missing seconds from acceleration, and no other phenomena that we can only measure after installing a new exhaust.
It just becomes more fun.
And, in the end, that's why we ride motorcycles.
So with just one change, I solved three things: I can be heard better in traffic, I like the way the bike looks even more, and, bonus, I seem to be having even more fun with it.
I knew almost nothing about MCJ before I started this story.
Now I can say that they made a product that I really like.
It's not perfect. There are a few things I think I can improve on, and I'll tell them, just like I always do with the products I use. But maybe that's what I find interesting about a smaller manufacturer: you get the feeling that somewhere, on the other side, there's actually someone who might be listening.
And if they grow up, I hope they do exactly that.
To listen to the people who use their products, to keep the things they do well and improve the others.
I, for one, gave them a chance.
And now my Pan America isn't so quiet anymore.
Only when I want to.
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