Dancing the Polka

In October and November 2025, the UK’s best-selling modern classic motorcycle – of any capacity – was the BSA Bantam 350, according to statistics from the Motorcycle Industry Association (MCIA).

I will admit that my initial reaction to those numbers was skepticism. I did not love the Bantam 350 when I first rode it last summer. It was, I said, “good enough” but not necessarily a machine that deserved to top sales charts. 

But, 50 million Elvis fans can’t be wrong, as the old saying goes. Or, in this case, several hundred Bantam 350 owners. Maybe I’d overlooked something on that first go. 

So, I put on my best pair of Pretty Please pants and asked BSA to give me a second chance with the bike. I ended up spending a little over two weeks with it, making a point to ride it every day. The TLDR version of this article is this: I’ll concede that it’s better than I initially gave it credit for, but there are still issues.

Are they issues that you’d be willing to overlook? Read on.

2026 BSA Bantam 350 specs

STARTING PRICE	£3,499
ENGINE	334cc liquid-cooled single cylinder DOHC
POWER	21.3 kW at 7750 rpm (28.5 bhp)
TORQUE	29.62 Nm at 6000 rpm (21.8 lb-ft)
TRANSMISSION	Six-speed
SEAT HEIGHT	800 mm (31.5 in)
WEIGHT	185 kg (407 lbs)
FUEL CAPACITY	13 liters (3.4 US gal)
FRONT SUSPENSION	Telescopic hydraulic fork, 135 mm stroke
REAR SUSPENSION	Twin shock absorber, five-step adjustable, 100 mm travel
FRONT TIRE	18-inch, tubeless, 100/90
REAR TIRE	17-inch, tubeless, 150/70

How we got here

The BSA name can be traced all the way back to 1860, when the Birmingham Small Arms Company was established, producing everything from firearms to hand tools. It first put a motor into a bicycle – thereby creating a de facto motorcycle – around 1903 and began selling said product in 1910.

The company was successful through to the early post-WWII period, but things then went tits up – to use a British turn of phrase. BSA spent decades making bad decisions until going bankrupt in 1971.

In 2016, the name was purchased by India’s Mahindra Group, a massive everything corporation headquartered in Mumbai. Mahindra sat on the name for a few years before eventually releasing the retro-styled Gold Star in 2021. 

The BSA Bantam 350 was launched in July 2025 alongside the Scrambler 650, the two bikes representing the second and third machines in the resurrected BSA’s line-up. In my review of the bike, I criticised the overall fit and finish, the suspension, and the styling, and argued that the bike was largely unexceptional – lacking classic charm or standout character. Read my review of the 2025 BSA Bantam 350 to get my full first impressions.

Some things haven’t changed

I’m still not a fan of the fit and finish of the Bantam 350. 

I suspect that a major part of the bike’s success is down to its agreeable price tag. Bikes like the Zontes ZT350-GK manage to run neck and neck in terms of price, but the BSA easily undercuts other ‘modern classic’ motos like the Honda GB350S (£3,999) or Royal Enfield Bullet 350 (£4,629).

Unfortunately, you are able to see why BSA is able to charge less. You are able to spot cost-cutting from 15 feet away. The bike is plasticky. Its decals look like stickers from children’s toys. The fasteners are the sort bought by the palletload. 

It still has that infuriating pointless switchgear. The suspension is still budget. I still don’t trust the tires. And it still looks like a bike that goes by different names in different countries. That’s because it is. In India, it’s a Jawa 42 FJ. 

BSA talks a good game about ‘legacy,’ ‘history,’ ‘heritage,’ and all the other buzzwords, but that feels pretty hollow when you know this is just a rebadged Something Else. I have the same criticism for the BSA Thunderbolt that was unveiled at EICMA 2025; it’s a rebadged Yezdi Adventure.

On the plus side of things, the Bantam 350 still sounds fantastic. It is one of the better-sounding bikes I’ve encountered in a while. “Rorty” is the word I’d use if I were writing for MCN. It’s got depth that you simply wouldn’t expect from a 334cc single.

It still has a surprisingly comfortable saddle. Considering the budget nature of other bits, the cushiness of the bench seat is particularly unexpected.

And it still has ‘hop on and go’ ergonomics that make the bike easy to live with. Or, as BSA’s marketing copy puts it: “accessible, non-judgemental, and uncomplicated.” I’d argue that this spirit is its key strength, and the thing that helped shift my opinion of it.

The moment that changed my mind (sort of)

On an unseasonably warm afternoon, I decided to head to a nearby beach cafe for a cup of tea and slice of Victoria sponge – the perfect setting for a ‘British’ bike, one might argue. 

Running out the door with helmet and gloves in hand, I decided I was too lazy to go back upstairs to get a riding jacket. Instead, I threw on a heavy flannel shirt that had been hanging by the door. The cafe is only a few miles away, I reasoned, and down roads where the speed limit never exceeds 30 mph.

Equally, I eschewed other usual items: riding jeans, heavy boots, ear plugs, and neck buff. In other words, I was old-school and minimalist in my gear choice. Something that’s pretty uncommon for me. Feel free to tell me what an idiot I am in the comments, but not wearing my usual kit gave me a freedom of movement that was… liberating. It changed my perspective, oh so slightly.

And the feeling of being more free/vulnerable gave me a kind of connection with the bike that felt more… real. No, that’s not quite the word I’m looking for. Visceral, perhaps. Unfettered. Unrefined.

“This is what it was like to ride bikes in the 1970s,” I said to myself.

Which is a very silly thing to have said, because I wasn’t even potty-trained when the ‘70s ended, and I have never once ridden a motorcycle from the era. So how would I know? But the Bantam 350 gave me the impression of what it must have been like: snarling engine filling the air with noise, imperfect suspension bouncing me along the road, air-catching riding stance, and so on.

Over the time that I had the bike, I decided to lean into this aspect: its simplicity. Its inelegance that, in the right conditions, can feel like authenticity and character.

Exploring backroads

The Bantam 350, it turns out, is an ideal “Where does this lane go?” exploring machine. I live in Sussex, an area littered with disheveled, hedgerow-threatened country lanes that exude a kind of charm and mystery. I encountered a lot of similar backroad routes when I lived in Wales.

But things can get pretty narrow and muddy or broken up or uneven or all of the above on country lanes. They’re not the kind of roads you really feel like exploring if you usually ride, say, a 255kg Kawasaki Versys 1000, like I do.

The low seat height and relatively manageable weight of the Bantam 350, however, is perfect. It’s tractable. Its size isn’t imposing and you can easily tuck yourself into a hedge when you suddenly encounter a lane-swallowing tractor. Equally, turning it around in a dead end isn’t a nightmare. 

And at lower speeds, the bike’s sound is still throaty but “putt-putt” enough to be cheerful – earning a friendly wave from villagers or people out for a country walk.

In the city

For much the same reason that it makes a good backroads explorer, the Bantam 350 absolutely shines in urban environments. You’d have to step ‘down’ to a scooter or bicycle to find anything that can weave through tight traffic with as much ease. And the sound of the engine is delightful when it bounces off cars and buses, or the walls of an underpass.

At low speeds, visibility in the mirrors is good and the riding position is such that it’s easy to twist and turn your body – 1989 Batman-style – to improve your field of vision. You feel fully aware of your surroundings on this bike.

Assisting city riding is a very light clutch pull and reasonably slick transmission. 

That said, there is one aspect of the gearbox that’s offputting: it lacks feedback at the end of the gear range. There’s no ‘floor’ or ‘ceiling.’ So, if you’re in first and attempt to click down, rather than get the feeling of resistance that you’d get on literally every other transmission I’ve experienced, there is a kind of empty give – like when you’re stuck in a false neutral. The same thing happens if you attempt to click up from sixth.

At the top end of the gearbox, this sensation is just sort of weird. At the low end, it’s off-putting. I’d find myself about to take off from a stop, tap down expecting to feel that positive response, get nothing, and think: “Oh, hell, I’m not in gear!”

I was in gear. It just didn’t feel like it. Having this panic at pretty much every stop is tiresome.

On the highway

With about a mile of straight, I managed to max out the Bantam 350 at around 80 mph. Not a lot, but enough. And I will say that they were a very thrilling 80 miles per hour. With the outclassed suspension bouncing me around, the mirrors blurring everything behind me to oblivion, and the engine screaming, it was an experience that made me want to shout: “What a thing it is to be alive!”

Again, it’s a bike that matches with my (unfounded) impressions of what riding in the ‘70s must have been like. None of this slick electronically adaptive suspension nonsense, just hold on and go.

I really enjoyed it. In short bursts. On dry roads. Gamboling about in this way for more than 20 minutes on a winter road, however, would instill all kinds of anxiety, rage, and questioning of life choices.

On the plus side, however, the headlight throws a good amount of light – better than I would have expected.

Verdict

The Bantam 350 is not a forever bike. That’s a truth that’s sort of at the heart of my criticism of it. Which means that I’m possibly not being fair to the Bantam 350. The lack of forever-and-ever quality isn’t a criticism that I’d apply to any number of other bikes. The aforementioned Zontes, for example, or even a (markedly more expensive) Yamaha MT-03.

Sometimes a bike is just a bike is just a bike. And it can often be the case that a bike of 500cc capacity or less is a bike that is largely intended to be used to get from A to B. That’s it. It’s not an heirloom. It’s not a piece of art. It’s a tool. And, you know, if you put better tires on the Bantam 350 (and overlook its quirky transmission), it’s as good a tool as any.

But that’s not really a character that fits with BSA’s heritage. It certainly doesn’t fit with what BSA says about the Bantam 350 or about itself. BSA’s hype makes you think of brands like Royal Enfield, Triumph, Harley-Davidson, etc. But its build quality just isn’t on the same level.

There’s lots to like about the Bantam 350, but I think that how you feel about it will depend in no small part on how well you are able to mentally disconnect the bike from the name on its tank. Make the mistake of tying it to the storied heritage of British motorcycling and you’ll be disappointed. But if you just accept it as a simple, affordable run-around tool that you’ll probably get rid of in a few years, it is a very agreeable thing.