Benda Redstone 1000 R2 tested

I come off the table and already know mid-air: that was a bit too motivated. In moments like this you have surprisingly much time to think. About why a farm boy with almost half a ton of ATV under his backside absolutely has to fly, for instance. So I wait for the impact, the metallic slam, and the subsequent appointment with the orthopedist. The landing comes hard and straight into flat ground. The Redstone compresses, settles its mass, and just keeps going as if nothing happened. Only the rider briefly looks a bit dazed.

Right then it was clear: the real sensation of this machine doesn't sit between the frame tubes, but underneath them. Strong ATVs have plenty of power these days. What matters is whether the rest of the vehicle can actually do something with it. The Redstone feels planted, massive, and confidence-inspiring. And because Benda wraps the whole thing in a pretty futuristic shell, this rig looks almost like a prop from a sci-fi movie next to many a conservative work machine.

At its heart works a liquid-cooled V2 with 997.1 cc, 102 hp, and, according to Benda's global spec sheet, 92 Nm at 6,500 rpm. Power goes to the wheels via a CVT with L, H, N, R, and P. If you're now thinking that's "pretty decent for an ATV," you might want to briefly recalibrate your idea of decent. This thing really shoves. On asphalt this force fits surprisingly well, because you always feel plenty of reserves when accelerating and never have to squeeze the engine to its last breath.

In tight terrain the picture looks different. There, 102 hp is about as necessary as a flamethrower for lighting a candle. One careless twitch of the thumb and the rear tires immediately start a little geological survey of the ground. So power isn't the problem, its metering would be. That's exactly why the three riding modes aren't just brochure filler, but genuinely useful. They turn the same power beast into three surprisingly different machines.

Work mode was the best choice for me in tricky off-road sections. Throttle response becomes softer, the Redstone can be guided slowly and cleanly over obstacles, and you count centimeters rather than km/h. It also makes sense for work tasks with frequent starting, maneuvering, and stop-and-go. Standard mode is the golden middle and was therefore my most-used setting: powerful and spontaneous, yet still controllable enough that your thumb doesn't need its own emergency plan for every bump.

Sport does exactly what it says on the tin. Throttle response becomes decidedly aggressive, and on grippy ground that's glorious. On loose terrain, though, you should have feel in your thumb, because "a bit more" turns into "now it's really going off" remarkably fast. Ride-by-wire makes this possible: the thumb only announces the wish, the electronics translate it depending on the mode. So the same V2 can putter around delicately in Work mode and keep the farm boy properly busy just a few button presses later.

The chassis is tuned on the firm side, but not needlessly harsh. On the road this brings a lot of calm to the heavy machine. Where soft ATVs start to wallow and float at higher speed, the Redstone stays planted on course. The 1,500 mm wheelbase naturally helps here. Even approaching the 110 km/h stated for the T3b version, it doesn't start nervously hunting for its own line. For a big ATV with knobby tires and a high center of gravity, that's anything but a given.

Off the asphalt it gets even more impressive. Potholes are swallowed up, whoops can be attacked at decent speed, and even my rather inelegant landing onto flat ground didn't bottom out the suspension. Yet enough precision remains that the whole thing doesn't turn into a spongy bouncy castle. So the chassis doesn't just soak up a lot, it also conveys security while doing so. For me it's clearly the star of the Redstone - and that on a vehicle that screams for attention with 102 hp.

Steep, loose, and barely any grip: that's exactly where an ATV has to show whether all those buttons are just there for the brochure. On the Redstone you can choose between two-wheel and all-wheel drive, and locks for the front and rear axle are also on hand. On loose climbs, chassis, all-wheel drive, and locks mesh together cleanly. In particular, one muddy rock slab, where tires and rider would normally jointly consider a detour, the Benda took without much drama.

As a second line of defense, beadlock rims and a winch are standard equipment. With the beadlocks you can run very low tire pressures without the tire immediately parting ways with the rim. And if physics wins anyway, the front winch with synthetic rope and remote control is waiting. All that's missing then is a tree sturdier than your own bad decision. This is how the sport machine convincingly transforms into a tool for difficult terrain.

On the road, the Redstone feels surprisingly little like a necessary compromise. Of course it remains a big ATV and doesn't suddenly turn into a naked bike. But the long wheelbase, the firm chassis, and the mighty V2 add up to a composed package. This is actually where the enormous power fits better than in tight off-road passages: you accelerate briskly, have reserves, and drive at higher speed without constant small steering corrections. So the power beast can not only dig dirt but also handle a brisk connecting stretch.

My biggest criticism is, of all things, the ABS. In sporty off-road riding it sometimes intervenes more than I'd like. On loose ground you sometimes want to deliberately allow some slip during hard braking and let the vehicle work. There the system sometimes takes more control out of an experienced rider's hands than it adds in extra safety. On asphalt this criticism naturally becomes much less relevant. Off-road, though, the wish remains to be able to send the electronic supervisor on a coffee break every now and then.

With many ATVs, the big accessory shopping spree only really starts after purchase. Winch, rims, heated grips, and comfort gear migrate onto the vehicle piece by piece, while the wallet keeps getting thinner. On the Redstone, surprisingly much is already fitted: seat and grip heating, TFT display, beadlock rims, winch with synthetic rope and remote control, and three storage compartments. The genuinely large 30-liter tank for an ATV also fits well with this versatile approach. The electric power steering can be adjusted in three stages. For work use, Benda also states up to 980 kg of braked trailer load.

Build quality also left a strong impression. Clean welds, solidly dimensioned wheel suspensions, and robust bumpers don't feel as if someone just wanted to tick as many boxes as possible on a feature list. The components make sense in real-world use. In the morning the Redstone can be a work machine, in the afternoon climb a forest track, and afterward still drive home on asphalt. For a first big appearance in this class, that's not a bad statement.

With its 102 hp, the Redstone rides right into a field of established power beasts. The Can-Am Outlander XT-P 1000R T ABS is practically neck and neck for 2026 with 101 hp. Polaris takes a stronger off-road focus with the Sportsman XP 1000 S, with 952 cc, 89 hp, and generous suspension travel. The European CFMOTO CForce 1000 Touring brings 85 hp and 85 Nm, while Segway's AT10 pulls 97 hp and 92 Nm out of 999 cc. So the Benda certainly isn't lacking company.

It doesn't find its own niche through engine power alone. The interesting part is the combination of the sturdy, firm chassis, the locking-diff technology, and an unusually complete standard equipment. Anyone who only works slowly will barely need the 102 hp. Anyone who wants to handle work, sporty terrain, and fast connecting stretches with a single machine can actually make use of the reserves. Exactly this range is the Redstone's greatest strength - provided the thumb knows what it's doing in Sport mode.