In 2010, we heard about a “new” Horex
It was a whisper at first, revived branding, grand ambitions, a new six-cylinder motorcycle, and, intriguingly, the mention of a supercharger. It was like someone had unearthed a forgotten relic and infused it with science fiction. The Horex brand dates back to the 1920s, but it vanished in the haze of post-war decline. When the name resurfaced in 2010, it was with bold claims: a VR6 engine, an optional Rotrex supercharger, and nearly 200 horsepower. That supercharger never made it into production, probably for good reason. The VR6 motor was already pushing the envelope. At 1,218cc, naturally aspirated, and good for 161 hp and 135 Nm of torque, the Horex VR6 didn’t need forced induction to demand respect. I remember when the delivery van rolled up in front of our workshop in Kochi. I swear the air changed when the door dropped and that sculpted roadster emerged. Midnight black with exposed machined aluminum, an oversized rear tire, a brutalist exhaust system, and that unmistakable engine growl. Ralf, the guy from Horex who’d come along for delivery, turned the key and thumbed the starter. It didn’t just start, it woke up. The VR6 idled like a muscle car, metallic and rhythmic. I had goosebumps. I couldn’t wait to climb into the saddle.
The VR6 is almost as narrow as a conventional inline engine
Now here’s where the tech nerd in me gets giddy. Horex didn’t just slap six cylinders into a frame and call it a day. They engineered something completely unique: a VR6 layout. Unlike a traditional inline-six (which would be too wide for a motorcycle), the Horex uses a staggered V layout with just 15° between the two cylinder banks. This clever design gives you the power and smoothness of a six-cylinder engine but with nearly the same width as an inline-four. That narrowness has real-world benefits, better weight distribution, less heat on your inner thighs, and more nimble handling than you’d ever expect from a 250 kg motorcycle. And trust me, this thing does not feel like 250 kilograms when you’re riding it. More on that later. The VR6 also uses three overhead camshafts, a pretty unorthodox setup. That adds to the complexity but also the performance. Each of the six cylinders gets three valves (two intake, one exhaust), and the whole thing spins up like a turbine when provoked.
The Horex goes off like the devil!
I took the Horex out at dawn, aiming it toward Munnar, a hill station known for its winding roads and lush vistas. The first few kilometers were within city limits, and the Horex was surprisingly tame at low revs. The throttle response was linear, the clutch a little firm but manageable. It didn’t lurch or buck like some big bikes do in traffic. But I could feel it straining at the leash, like a tiger pacing inside its cage. As we cleared the town and climbed into the hills, I finally gave it some room to breathe. At around 5,500 rpm, the engine’s tone changes. A wheeze becomes a trumpet blast. At 6,000 rpm, a second wind hits you. It’s like the bike takes a deep breath and says, “Let’s go, buddy.” There’s a full-bodied roar that pours out of the twin exhausts, echoing off the valley walls. Tourists walking the plantation trails turned their heads and smiled, even if they had no idea what was coming, they felt it. The gearbox is slick and tight, with short throw shifts that make quick work of hairpin corners. The frame stays neutral under load, and the bike tips into turns with surprising agility. It’s not featherweight, but it hides its heft beautifully. The WP front forks and Sachs rear shock are fully adjustable and did an incredible job keeping the ride composed, even when the tarmac turned into patchy concrete slabs or gravel-sprinkled bends. This is a bike that feels like it’s been set up by people who ride, not just engineers. It lets you dance, not wrestle.
Conclusion
The Horex VR6 Roadster isn’t for everyone. It doesn’t try to be. It’s the kind of motorcycle that seduces you with noise, then earns your loyalty with engineering. It speaks to the rider who’s tired of carbon copies and wants something with both pedigree and personality. Out here in the Kerala hills, surrounded by low clouds and steep ravines, it felt alive. Every downshift echoed like a warning across the valleys. Every tight bend was a chance to feel the bike lean deeper and push harder. And every time I twisted the throttle, I remembered why I ride. It’s not perfect. It’s expensive. It’s unconventional. But it’s also unforgettable. The Horex doesn’t just take you places, it makes damn sure you enjoy getting there. Would you ever take a 250-kg, six-cylinder brute through mountain switchbacks? I did. And I’d do it again tomorrow. Have you ever ridden something that felt more machine than motorcycle?
