Motorcycles come in all shapes and sizes, arguably with even more variation than cars, which we cover here more frequently. This usually helps convey their purpose and intended use even before the rider climbs on them. And, ever since their inception, the luggage they carry in terms of stories is frequently larger than their physical carrying capabilities. This very specific 2010 Hyosung GV250 is a case in point.
It came to me through a pretty special connection too, loaned by the lead host of the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride here in New Zealand, which I had the honour to attend last weekend. This was a bike with many stories attached to it, this being the fourth time it has attended the event being ridden by other people, dressed in tweed and ties, raising awareness for men’s mental health and prostate cancer research under the banner of the 1737 movement. And if you’ve read my previous pieces on the DGR, you know how much that matters.
And the funny thing is that the GV250 suits that role perfectly. It has, of course, the vintage style associated not only with most cruisers, but also with the event itself, but it does that in a more subdued way that some other bigger bikes sometimes do. That, and the 1737 livery are immediate conversation starters, as I can attest to after being approached by many during the event.
Visually, I’d even say that the GV250 punches above its weight. With cruiser proportions, long wheelbase, a low seat, and a chunky tank, it has more presence than other similarly sized cruisers I’ve ridden (my father owned a couple of Viragos over the years). Parked beside larger displacement machines, it doesn’t disappear nearly as much as you’d expect from a 250.
This combination of a 250cc carbureted engine and a five speed gearbox is something I’m very familiar with. The characteristic behaviour of not having electronic injection reminded me of my machines of old, with the raspy and rough nature of the sound, and the lack of computers that made it easy to push start the bike when successive starts drew from the battery a bit too much. Once back on the move, it goes well, revving high all the way up 12K rpm, with a clear crescendo from the DOHCs as you twist the cable. But do that with caution, as the single front disc and rear drum brakes are, let’s say, just adequate.
Which is okay, because it forces you to slow down a bit. You won’t be rushing anywhere, and you will notice more of what’s around. The upright bars and very low seat make it feel approachable to almost anyone, and a machine this simple (in the best way possible) provides a welcoming approach to the entire experience, especially in between driving brand new, tech-laden cars. No ride modes, no complicated electronics, and a non-hydraulic clutch that got me on my tennis elbow a little bit.
Again, all of that fits the spirit of the DGR beautifully. And, as the name says, it is a ride, not a race. It is about presence, community and participation. About motorcycles as conversation starters, and indirect mental health advocates. The 1737 GV250 understands that assignment perfectly, and we haven’t even talked about the livery yet.
Because what makes this particular bike special is knowing the history behind it. Knowing other riders had already taken it through previous DGR events around New Zealand. Getting a genuine “Hey! 1737 made it again!” as I was ushered into my designated spot by one of the volunteer staff. Knowing it had already been part of that sea of polished tanks, classic bikes and dressed-up riders gathering behind a cause that genuinely matters. The 1737 movement has become such an important conversation locally, especially as awareness around men’s mental health continues to grow. Seeing motorcycles used as a platform for that is something pretty powerful. Add to that the Every Sunday Moto Club nods, the stickers from previous rides and the reading material tucked away in the road-shoulder-sourced cargo box, and this GV250 starts feeling less like somebody’s motorcycle and more like a rolling scrapbook of the community around it.
Because bikes create community in a way very few hobbies really can. They get strangers talking, they create spaces where people naturally open up. And events like DGR channel that energy toward something genuinely meaningful. So while the GV250 itself is a modest machine on paper, the role this particular one plays elevates it far beyond its spec sheet.
By the end of my time with it, and after a few vulnerable and honest conversations throughout the week, I realised it reminded me a lot of my other mechanical obsession: watches. The engineering matters, of course, but what gives these objects real value are the stories attached to them. The people, the memories. That is probably why this little Hyosung stuck with me the way it did.
In my other write-up, I talked about the importance of showing up. And in a way, this bike became the perfect embodiment of that idea. I showed up to help shine a little more light on an amazing event and an important cause, while the lead host himself showed up by handing over the keys to his own motorcycle so I could be part of it in the first place.
There is a camaraderie to motorcycle riding that constantly reminds people why they fell in love with it to begin with, and why movements like Movember fit so naturally alongside it. This GV250 mattered not because it was the fastest, rarest or most technically impressive bike I have ridden, but because it reminded me why mechanical things become meaningful in the first place. Thanks, Bradley, for the opportunity, and thank you for reading this far!
Photos are courtesy of Bradley Patten, Beny Faulkner, Aaron Staples;
