Motorcycles are simple machines, really. Two wheels, an engine, a handlebar, some brakes, a seat—and you’re off. But the feeling of riding one? That’s harder to pin down. It’s personal. Immersive. Less of a “let me explain” and more of a “you had to be there.” 
 

Some bikes, though, go beyond the mechanical—they become memories. The new-gen KTM 390 Duke, for example, felt like watching Avengers: Infinity War. Big, ambitious, tightly executed. It raised the stakes, dropped jaws, and ended with a kind of swagger that left you wondering how they’d ever top it. The 2025 KTM 390 Adventure, too, promises to be the endgame of what came before, fixing what needed to be fixed and building on its hype. But the real question is: can it be the ultimate chapter in the tale of sub-5 lakh Adventure motorcycles here? 

Looks Like Hulk, Feels Like Bruce Banner 

It’s hard not to feel a little intimidated when you first lay eyes on the new 390 Adventure. It’s tall, it looks heavy, and it carries the kind of silent swagger that whispers, “You sure you can handle me?” But don’t let that mirage fool you. 

Sure, it looks like a hulking Dakar monster—and that’s by design. It borrows from KTM’s rally-winning DNA. But despite the raging bull aesthetics, the 390 Adventure is surprisingly approachable. 

Don’t get me wrong—it still feels big. With a 21-inch front wheel and a 1470mm wheelbase, this thing has presence. But my 183cm (6-foot) frame sat flush on the seat, flat-footed and confident. 

And while it looks heavier than its predecessor, it tips the scales at only 182kg (kerb)—barely 5kg more than the visibly smaller last-gen model. The riding triangle is narrow, the cockpit feels focused, and the 5-inch TFT display sits bang in your eyeline, controlled by chunky switchgear lifted from the third-gen Duke. 

ADV Assemble  

The most surprising thing about the new third-gen 399cc, single-cylinder engine (46PS, 39Nm) is how easy it feels to ride—which is both a blessing and a bit of a curse. 

On one hand, it’s instantly approachable. You settle in quickly. But maybe too quickly—the kind of comfort that can blur the line between confidence and over confidence. On the sharper, smaller 390 Duke, that can be risky. Its compact, eager nature tempts you into... let’s say, questionable behaviour. The 390 Adventure? Not quite. Not because it lacks agility—it’s plenty nimble—but because its presence makes you want to ride smoother. More fluid. Less stabby, more steady. It encourages patience, not provocation. 

That’s not to say it can’t move. Trust me, it can. I rolled over the gravelly, broken tarmac outside my house, thinking I was taking it easy. By the time I hit the toll booth, I glanced down and saw I was deep into triple digits—all while my brain was convinced, I was doing a calm 70kmph. 

Even though it’s more tractable than the previous-gen model, it still isn’t what you’d call slow-speed friendly. It grunts and groans but never throws a full-blown tantrum. The low-RPM crawl function is the hero here—it’ll chug along at around 2200rpm in the first three gears without fuss. No clutch juggling, no nervous throttle work, no drama. Just let go of the lever and let it walk. 

Chink In The Armour 

Reviewing motorcycles means putting yourself in situations you’d normally avoid. For me, that’s the hair-pulling pain of bumper-to-bumper traffic. Thankfully, the low-RPM assist comes in clutch (pun intended), and the bike is nimble enough to dart through gaps and pull quick lane changes with ease. 

Then there are the adventure bits—the unsung heroes of urban chaos. With 200mm of front wheel travel (up by 30mm), 210mm at the rear (up by 28mm), and 237mm of ground clearance, the 390 Adventure handles potholes, dividers, and Pune’s “spontaneous off-road zones” without breaking stride.   

The light clutch pull is another underrated win—your left hand will thank you, especially compared to some… other bikes in the segment.   

Now, about that suspension. I’m a little torn. It’s not quite as plush as the Royal Enfield Himalayan 450’s, but it isn’t bad either. It rides firm—a little stiff, slightly bouncy—but it’s fully adjustable, so you can dial in a setup that suits you. Props to KTM for that.  

The only real dealbreaker? Not quite but the vibrations do creep in. Through the bars, the tank, and the foot pegs. Wear thick-soled boots. The quickshifter, too, feels a little janky at times— not unrideable, just unrefined. Probably early-production quirk more than a red flag. 

The Feeling 

Numbers, niggles, and analysis aside—there’s just nothing quite like riding this KTM. And I say that as a nerd across disciplines. I’ve watched films that made me cry quietly in a theatre. Listened to albums that rewired my brain. Read books that cracked something open in me and made me want to write better, live better.   

Somehow—and I can’t fully explain this—a ride on the 390 Adventure feels like that too. 

It’s not just mechanical. It’s emotional. Spiritual, even.  

As cliché as it sounds, it’s like becoming a Tron character—glowing, tuned in, fully synced. You don’t think about your next move; you are the move. The throttle doesn’t just respond—it anticipates. The bike doesn’t follow instructions—it reads intent.  

Sometimes, it feels like there’s a mythical presence riding pillion—a spirit straight out of Vikram-Betal. But instead of riddles, it teases you with a whisper: “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”  

And it’s addictive—the kind of ride that ruins you for everything else. It’s a walking, talking superlative on two wheels—and even as a writer allergic to hyperbole, I’ve run out of restraint.  

At Rs3.67 lakh (ex-showroom), the new-gen KTM 390 Adventure doesn’t just punch above its weight — it barges in, flips the table, and asks, “Who’s next?” When a bike can carry both your soul and your saddlebags without breaking a sweat, the debate sort of rides off into the sunset. In the overcrowded mid-capacity ADV segment, the 390 feels like the endgame. Looking at the company’s future, just pray KTM doesn’t enter its own post-endgame era.