What's the Best Maxi-Scooter for a Tall Rider? My Real-World Test

It all started with mountain bikes. Back when 26-inch wheels were the only option, I was a 6-foot-3 racer competing against guys a foot shorter, all on the same-sized wheels. The physics seemed off, but it was just the way things were. Then, in the early 2000s, the 29er arrived, and a lightbulb went on. Suddenly, on a bike that fit my size, I was more stable at speed, more confident on jumps, and I realised a truth: bigger wheels need less suspension to feel just as smooth.

Years later, that lesson was front and centre as I began my search for a maxi-scooter. I knew that wheel size wasn't just a spec, it was the key to handling, stability, and ride quality.

My search quickly led me to the Italian brands, specifically Piaggio, renowned for their large-wheeled scooters, or "high-wheelers." To prove the theory, I tested a Piaggio Beverly 300 (16/14-inch wheels) back-to-back with a beautiful Vespa 300 GTS (12-inch wheels). They shared the same heart, the same engine and mechanicals, but the difference was staggering. The Vespa was pure joy in town, a style icon at slow speeds. But as the pace picked up, that joy turned to nervousness. The Beverly, on the other hand, was utterly planted, stable, and confidence-inspiring.

The die was cast. I was officially in the market for a high-wheeler. Living in Ireland, where maxi-scooters are a rare sight, I took my search to Spain, their natural habitat, to find my perfect ride.

The Contenders: A Tale of Three Scooters

First Up: The World-Beater (That Wasn't for Me)

My first test was the undisputed king of sales, the Honda Forza 350. I have to be honest; I wasn't a fan of the futuristic, front-heavy styling, which seemed to be trying too hard to mimic a motorbike. Still, you can't argue with popularity, so I swung a leg over.

My first thought? "My goodness, this thing is small!" At 6-foot-3, it felt tiny. The issue wasn't the scooter's overall size but the rider cockpit. The handlebars were so low they were in danger of hitting my knees in a tight turn. And the secondary feet-forward riding position, a key selling point for many, was useless for me, cramping my legs even further. It's a brilliant machine for millions, but for me, it was an immediate "no."

Next: The Adventurous Sibling

I moved on to the Forza's rugged sibling, the Honda ADV350. It shared the same engine as the Forza (350cc) and I liked the styling more; it still had that motorbike look, but it was purposeful and backed up by a more motorcycle-like riding position. The first thing I noticed was the handlebars. Not only were they higher, but they were proper, exposed motorbike bars. Coming from mountain biking, this was a huge plus. My mind immediately filled with the possibilities for customisation: wider, higher, a different sweep. This was promising.

The specs were equally impressive. The ADV350 features high-quality, long-travel USD (Up-Side-Down) forks made by Showa, offering 125mm of travel, the twin rear shocks were Showa too, language I understood and appreciated. The ride was undeniably smooth, probably the plushest of the lot, and it was packed with features. I took it for a proper spin, genuinely thinking this might be the one.

On the open road, it was a blast. But it lacked punch. This was a sticking point. Back when I was testing the Beverly 300 (300cc), I'd also managed to get a brief try on its bigger sibling, the Beverly 400. With its more powerful engine (400cc), it felt like a rocket for a scooter, and even on that short spin, the difference was obvious. The ADV350, despite only having 50cc less displacement, felt sluggish by comparison. Worse, around town, it felt big and clumsy. Where the Beverly felt like a nimble city scooter, the ADV felt long, wide, and heavy. I returned it to the dealer, surprised to be walking away empty-handed.

The Decision: Finding "Just Right"

The process had clarified everything. I needed to get back on the Piaggio Beverly, but this time for a proper test ride on the 400. The brief taste I'd had of its power had stuck with me, and I needed a proper test to be sure.

A few days later, my wife and I took a Beverly 400 S for a test ride. A stupidly long test ride. So long, in fact, that the dealer called to make sure we were okay. Oh, we were more than okay; we were sold.

In town, it was a revelation. The Beverly felt as light and nimble as the small Piaggio Liberty I’d owned previously. Then we hit the motorway to Malaga. With both of us on board, it effortlessly climbed to 120 km/h, the engine humming away at barely half its rev range, with plenty of power left for overtakes. It was stable, comfortable, and powerful. It also had a look I liked; it's a scooter, but a bigger one! It was perfect. We rode back to the dealer and sealed the deal.

Living with an Italian: The Verdict?

Before buying, every biker I knew warned me: "Don't buy Italian, buy a Honda." Did I make a mistake ignoring them?

Well, it hasn't been plain sailing. Shortly after its first service, the scooter died on the motorway, a scary "new pants please" experience. The dealer fixed it quickly, but I never got a clear answer on the cause. Now, six months later, the keyless ignition switch has failed (I'm currently awaiting a warranty replacement). And the little shopping bag hook has mysteriously broken.

So, the jury is still out on the old adage about Italian build quality. Perhaps time will make me regret my choice. But for now, even with these frustrations, the answer is no. Every time I ride the Beverly, it confirms that it fits my size, my needs, and my riding style better than any other maxi-scooter out there. It’s the high-wheeler I was looking for, and for me, it’s still the perfect gambit.