Suzuki managed to produce a whole range of plastic covered 'tourers' that were deemed too ugly to succeed in the market even though any of them (600, 750 or 900) had bags of power and reasonable handling. The upshot, deliriously low prices on the used market as no-one really lusts after them. When an RF900 showed up in the bike classifieds not too far from my house I was on the blower within seconds.
Sounded too good to be true. 7500 miles, one owner, sixteen months old and described as in showroom condition. This didn't mean much if the local dealer's showroom was anything to go by, loads of old slags in there. Worth a look, decided I. The figures were also promising, 110hp, 165mph and 450lbs. Whichever way you want to play with them you won't get away from the fact that they add up to loadsa fun.
The bike wasn't in showroom condition. The area around the petrol cap was faded and there was some crazing where plastic panels were attached to the frame. At least the exhaust was stock, the very muted howl at tickover unlikely to cause my neighbours to rant and rave. A brief blast through suburbia on the pillion revealed nothing amiss; a bit of a haggle and the machine was mine for 3450 sovs.
The ride home was sedate but slightly unsettling as it's undoubtedly a big brute of a motorcycle to straddle and all that plastic vibrates away merrily at certain revs. Peak power's at ten grand, not a lot of action below 4000 revs, the response a little bit jerky from the throttle. Put a bit of effort in and the engine sings, nay howls, away nicely. A light spattering of rain was neatly displaced by the fairing and I arrived home dry if not entirely sober.
The next day the bike was thrust into the city commute to work, making me aware of how wide it was as I couldn't slice through the smaller gaps. The gearbox was surprisingly crunchy for a Suzuki unit, meaning I left it in third gear for most of the time, relying on a touch of clutch slip at really slow speeds. The slightest bit of empty road was eaten up extremely rapidly. I had the feeling that the bike was trying to get away from me at times, thankful for the four piston caliper front discs that were firmly in stoppie territory yet had plenty of feedback when the road surfaces were less than ideal.
Triumphantly turning into work, some bugger in a Volvo did a fast reverse act just as I was leaning into the turn. Maximum throttle made the back end twitch ferociously and almost catapulted my breakfast out of my mouth but the back end of the car missed the bike by about a millimetre. I must've looked far gone in work because I got a few comments about spending the previous night out on the town. If only they knew.
Quite a crowd gathered to watch me start the Suzuki that night, which, of course, meant that it wouldn't start. Buggeration! All systems dead. After some investigation I managed to locate the battery, fitted the earth lead back on and got her running. By then all my work colleagues had gone home. In fact, the work gates were fastened shut with a large chain and padlock! After revving the Suzuki furiously for five minutes a couple of dishevelled security guards appeared and let me out. God knows what they were up to - well, He probably doesn't want to know.
I cleared the cobwebs away with a first gear blast of throttle that had the front wheel going airborne. Felt like it was going to loop the loop, I shut the throttle down and the front wheel slammed back down on to the tarmac. The tyre squirmed as it hit the ground and I had to put my boots down to stop it flying off at an angle. Two nearly broken legs later I was back on the straight and narrow with new respect for the RF's 110 ponies.
This aspect of the machine kept intruding. You have to pay attention to what you're doing with the throttle, dead easy to highside the bike in bends. This is true for all big bikes but the RF seemed a bit more deceptive than most. Going from cool and collected to highly dangerous without much warning. The bike felt quite heavy at low speeds, lightened up with a bit of throttle but was quite resistant to the muscle needed to get it back into line. A bit of a tussle needed.
The nature of its relatively budget price turned up in the way the plastic vibrated away above 7000 revs, thrumming with a violence that would have an Honda designer sticking a knife in his heart. As mentioned, there was some minor crazing around the mounting holes, so I found some rubber washers to put behind the fairing. Helped a little but I found that the fairing was vibrating against itself where the various panels met. Filled it with cheap mastic using a gun. It peeled off when the fairing was taken apart and had to be reapplied but it made a huge difference to the level of the vibration getting through.
This helped the long distance touring gig. The bike would basically howl along at whatever speed I wanted to dial in, only limited by the curvature of the roads and the presence of the plod. There are so many ways that they can get you that these big bikes are becoming dinosaur-like. Most of the time I whizzed down the motorways at 90-100mph, pretty relaxed behind all the plastic. It would cruise at a ton-fifty if I wanted, though it made 90mph cars seem like they were going backwards, making me feel like I was experiencing a weird kind of time travel.
Fuel was poor, 35-40mpg on the open road and up to 45mpg in town. The Dunlop rubber could've been a bit stickier on wet roads but would've had to be made out of Superglue to survive full throttle in corners on wet roads. Though I was relatively dry behind the plastic, the bike didn't sit too happily on damp roads. It's hard to make hugely powerful machines feel settled on slippery going.
After seven months the tyres were down to the carcass (about 4000 miles, they were newish when I bought it) and the handling was very twitchy indeed! Apart from a bit of oil, this was the only sign of wear on the machine, so, apart from the fuel, it hadn't been too expensive to run.
Stupidly, I didn't replace the tyres at that point and not too surprisingly slid off on some damp tarmac. The only good thing was that I was only doing 20mph. The plastic took the hit, the rest of the chassis survived without any damage. Some cracked panels needed repairing with a bit of plastic welding (wonderful what modern technology can do) and a quick respray.
Yes, I went out and got the tyres replaced with a new pair of Metz's but they weren't much of an improvement over the Dunlops (when they were newish), so the feel of the bike is down to its own characteristics rather than the rubber. A certain amount of disdain for the machine set in after the accident, although as it was my own fault this had the kind of logic only my wife would approve of (...ouch!).
Basically, I just rode the bike for the next few months in total neglect mode, the machine collecting loads of road grime and the engine's tapping reverberating through the plastic! Oddly, the rattles and taps were louder with the helmet on than with it off! A few near misses on the same day brought me back to my senses but rather than rebuild the calipers, replace the pads and chain, I decided to jet-wash and see what I could get for a trade-in. The RF plus 1500 notes bought me a brand new 1200 Bandit. A whole new way of killing myself!
R.Y.
****************************************************
Many people believe that Suzuki reached the height of their styling abilities with the old GS550/650 Katanas. Certainly, the GSX600 didn't impress and at a first glance the RF900 is just more of the same blandness. However, the more I looked at the bike the more its appearance grew on me, until suddenly, almost out of nowhere, there descended on me a desperate need to own one. Motorcycles grab you like that.
I had a pile of money but insufficient to buy a new one, even at Suzuki's relatively reasonable prices. I hated hp with a vehemence that was usually reserved for Volvo drivers, so no way I was going to sign away on the doted line. MCN was consulted, two bikes on offer, both low miles and around £5000. I chose the two month year old as it's owner was mature and willing to take £4750 for the as new bike which was only just run in. This turned out to be excellent value for money.
The centrepiece of the RF is a 900cc watercooled motor that as well as putting out a 125 horses revels in low and midrange power. The bottom half of the engine is derived from the mighty GSXR1100, therefore very strong with excellent potential longevity. The top half is unique to the RF but to the usual 16 valve, DOHC spec with four 36mm Mikuni carbs that are angled upwards to improve the efficiency of the flow.
The dry weight of 460lbs quickly escalates to a whopping 520lbs when a full complement of fluids is added, but initial impressions were of an easy turning, easy running motorcycle that needed only a moments worth of adaptation. Only when I tried to push the machine did its heaviness come home, the usual three dragging disc brakes not helping one bit. A bit of care in parking's needed to ensure the bike can be pulled, or preferably ridden, back out - but the same goes for any across the frame four.
The sensible riding position and comfy, if a touch narrow, seat helped that feeling of instant oneness. The riding position veers towards the sporting but isn't in any way extreme or threatening to limbs. The 31 inch seat height helped remove any feeling of intimidation and the engine mounted as low as possible removed the expected top heaviness. Overall, the bike felt more like a 600 than a 900!
The secure, glued to the road, feel comes from a massive wrap-around steel frame that eschews downtubes by using the engine as a stressed member, mated with an aluminium swinging arm and high quality Showa suspension. The 17'' wheels were already fitted with fat Metzeler radials that seemed to have a divine connection to the tarmac. They were given a relatively easy time by the controlled nature of the power output and good chassis dynamics.
If the plastic makes the RF seem large from a distance, once sat within the sculptured bodywork the feeling is of a much narrower and more compact machine (wheelbase's 57 inches). Steering accuracy is immediately impressive, even via laminated rubber mounted bars that do not entirely remove the odd tremor of vibration. Like few other bikes I've encountered, the Suzuki inspired instant confidence that seemed to heighten the faster we went.
There were only five gears to play with - I suspect that four would've been quite sufficient. Maximum power punches in at 9500 revs but the flow of torque is very strong from as little as 3000rpm, although it actually peaks out at 8500 revs (65ft-lb). Top gear roll-ons from 3500 to 10,000rpm were blistering with no need to change down to make cages seem as if they were standing still.
The transmission was actually smooth down to 1500 revs in top, although it balked when the throttle was hammered open, sulked for a while until a little more momentum was gained. Of course, racing up and down the box was also great fun and made the old girl accelerate that bit faster.
The RF was adaptable, then, turning from a headbanger's delight to a tourer's friend on the whim of the rider rather than trying to impose its own needs over and above those of its owner. The suspension, for instance, would soak up the bumps without totally isolating the rider from the road, there was always a grand amount of feedback that made riding on typically wet and slimy English roads more of a pleasure than a pain.
Wet weather riding would've been even better had the screen been higher, stock it was perfect for throwing a deluge of water at my neck, where it invariably soaked through my scarf. On the good side, hand protection was better than on many a quasi-sportster and my gloves were never left wringing wet. The fairing did keep a lot of wind pressure off, making 120mph cruising quite feasible and even at 160mph I was quite relaxed, only having to go into a mild crouch to avoid having my helmet torn off my head.
Stability remained good as long as the rear shock had its springing and damping turned up to their higher settings - the multi-adjustable shock is quite easy to set up all wrong and can cause the back end to bounce about over bumps. The front forks only have preload adjustment, so are easier to set up, although they do have a hard time as a lot of the engine's weight is forward biased. With 6000 miles now on the clock there is no sign of the suspension going off.
I found that the riding position suited me so well that 600 miles in a day was no problem. My neck felt a touch stiff, for sure, but it was nothing an hour's worth of rest couldn't cure. Out on the open road average fuel consumption was around 45mpg, with a best of 55mpg (just ride legally) and worst of 35mpg (ton plus cruising). I'd usually do 200 miles before having to worry about finding some fuel.
The brakes were initially a disappointment, not having the kind of power that made stoppies a one finger caress. A bit more exploration of the front twin discs, controlled by four piston calipers, revealed that they were highly effective stoppers, just needing a full hand's worth of pressure. They had plenty of feedback, worked extremely well in the wet and always gave the impression that I had fine control over the front wheel's antics.
The one time I had to do an emergency stop, due to the unbelievable antics of a bus sized Volvo (surprise, surprise), both tyres howled and the bike pulled up dead straight with space to spare. My heart was in my mouth and I'd caught my balls on the back of the tank which took so much wind out of me I couldn't even scream for a few moments. The tank driver motored serenely off into the distance without a care in the world.
The rear disc had the caliper mounted on the bottom of the swinging arm, a strange practice as virtually every other bike in the world has it tucked away on top of the arm. It was perfectly positioned to pick up all the road grime. Its performance has noticeably gone off over the last 1000 miles, becoming very grabby, so much so that I don't use it much, which will probably cause the whole thing to seize up solidly.
Such stupidity was mitigated by a beautiful exhaust system that should last the life of the bike! The silencer was made out of aluminium and the four into one downpipes from stainless steel. The exhaust note was quite eerie, soul stirring, under throttle but never loud enough to annoy anyone - I would've preferred a bit more noise as it gave cars a warning of my presence. I think stainless steel and/or alloy should be compulsory in exhaust systems as it stops all the bodging that goes down when normal steel rusts through.
Also on the plus side, so far the RF's cost hardly anything to run. I changed the oil every 3000 miles but the valves don't need doing for 7500 miles, the carbs have stayed in balance and all the consumables have a few thousand more miles of life left in them, even the tyres.
That means I have more money to pay for fuel so can ride the bike much more than something like Honda's CBR900, which is lighter and faster but goes through tyres in a few thousand miles and lacks the relaxed, versatile nature of the RF. Suzuki have cleverly blended relatively low running costs, superb power delivery at road speeds (even when speeding indecently) with an agile chassis that can hustle or tour with the best of them. In fact, the nicest compliment I can think of is that the RF's the modern incarnation of the Universal Japanese Four!
Tim Lloyd
Sounded too good to be true. 7500 miles, one owner, sixteen months old and described as in showroom condition. This didn't mean much if the local dealer's showroom was anything to go by, loads of old slags in there. Worth a look, decided I. The figures were also promising, 110hp, 165mph and 450lbs. Whichever way you want to play with them you won't get away from the fact that they add up to loadsa fun.
The bike wasn't in showroom condition. The area around the petrol cap was faded and there was some crazing where plastic panels were attached to the frame. At least the exhaust was stock, the very muted howl at tickover unlikely to cause my neighbours to rant and rave. A brief blast through suburbia on the pillion revealed nothing amiss; a bit of a haggle and the machine was mine for 3450 sovs.
The ride home was sedate but slightly unsettling as it's undoubtedly a big brute of a motorcycle to straddle and all that plastic vibrates away merrily at certain revs. Peak power's at ten grand, not a lot of action below 4000 revs, the response a little bit jerky from the throttle. Put a bit of effort in and the engine sings, nay howls, away nicely. A light spattering of rain was neatly displaced by the fairing and I arrived home dry if not entirely sober.
The next day the bike was thrust into the city commute to work, making me aware of how wide it was as I couldn't slice through the smaller gaps. The gearbox was surprisingly crunchy for a Suzuki unit, meaning I left it in third gear for most of the time, relying on a touch of clutch slip at really slow speeds. The slightest bit of empty road was eaten up extremely rapidly. I had the feeling that the bike was trying to get away from me at times, thankful for the four piston caliper front discs that were firmly in stoppie territory yet had plenty of feedback when the road surfaces were less than ideal.
Triumphantly turning into work, some bugger in a Volvo did a fast reverse act just as I was leaning into the turn. Maximum throttle made the back end twitch ferociously and almost catapulted my breakfast out of my mouth but the back end of the car missed the bike by about a millimetre. I must've looked far gone in work because I got a few comments about spending the previous night out on the town. If only they knew.
Quite a crowd gathered to watch me start the Suzuki that night, which, of course, meant that it wouldn't start. Buggeration! All systems dead. After some investigation I managed to locate the battery, fitted the earth lead back on and got her running. By then all my work colleagues had gone home. In fact, the work gates were fastened shut with a large chain and padlock! After revving the Suzuki furiously for five minutes a couple of dishevelled security guards appeared and let me out. God knows what they were up to - well, He probably doesn't want to know.
I cleared the cobwebs away with a first gear blast of throttle that had the front wheel going airborne. Felt like it was going to loop the loop, I shut the throttle down and the front wheel slammed back down on to the tarmac. The tyre squirmed as it hit the ground and I had to put my boots down to stop it flying off at an angle. Two nearly broken legs later I was back on the straight and narrow with new respect for the RF's 110 ponies.
This aspect of the machine kept intruding. You have to pay attention to what you're doing with the throttle, dead easy to highside the bike in bends. This is true for all big bikes but the RF seemed a bit more deceptive than most. Going from cool and collected to highly dangerous without much warning. The bike felt quite heavy at low speeds, lightened up with a bit of throttle but was quite resistant to the muscle needed to get it back into line. A bit of a tussle needed.
The nature of its relatively budget price turned up in the way the plastic vibrated away above 7000 revs, thrumming with a violence that would have an Honda designer sticking a knife in his heart. As mentioned, there was some minor crazing around the mounting holes, so I found some rubber washers to put behind the fairing. Helped a little but I found that the fairing was vibrating against itself where the various panels met. Filled it with cheap mastic using a gun. It peeled off when the fairing was taken apart and had to be reapplied but it made a huge difference to the level of the vibration getting through.
This helped the long distance touring gig. The bike would basically howl along at whatever speed I wanted to dial in, only limited by the curvature of the roads and the presence of the plod. There are so many ways that they can get you that these big bikes are becoming dinosaur-like. Most of the time I whizzed down the motorways at 90-100mph, pretty relaxed behind all the plastic. It would cruise at a ton-fifty if I wanted, though it made 90mph cars seem like they were going backwards, making me feel like I was experiencing a weird kind of time travel.
Fuel was poor, 35-40mpg on the open road and up to 45mpg in town. The Dunlop rubber could've been a bit stickier on wet roads but would've had to be made out of Superglue to survive full throttle in corners on wet roads. Though I was relatively dry behind the plastic, the bike didn't sit too happily on damp roads. It's hard to make hugely powerful machines feel settled on slippery going.
After seven months the tyres were down to the carcass (about 4000 miles, they were newish when I bought it) and the handling was very twitchy indeed! Apart from a bit of oil, this was the only sign of wear on the machine, so, apart from the fuel, it hadn't been too expensive to run.
Stupidly, I didn't replace the tyres at that point and not too surprisingly slid off on some damp tarmac. The only good thing was that I was only doing 20mph. The plastic took the hit, the rest of the chassis survived without any damage. Some cracked panels needed repairing with a bit of plastic welding (wonderful what modern technology can do) and a quick respray.
Yes, I went out and got the tyres replaced with a new pair of Metz's but they weren't much of an improvement over the Dunlops (when they were newish), so the feel of the bike is down to its own characteristics rather than the rubber. A certain amount of disdain for the machine set in after the accident, although as it was my own fault this had the kind of logic only my wife would approve of (...ouch!).
Basically, I just rode the bike for the next few months in total neglect mode, the machine collecting loads of road grime and the engine's tapping reverberating through the plastic! Oddly, the rattles and taps were louder with the helmet on than with it off! A few near misses on the same day brought me back to my senses but rather than rebuild the calipers, replace the pads and chain, I decided to jet-wash and see what I could get for a trade-in. The RF plus 1500 notes bought me a brand new 1200 Bandit. A whole new way of killing myself!
R.Y.
****************************************************
Many people believe that Suzuki reached the height of their styling abilities with the old GS550/650 Katanas. Certainly, the GSX600 didn't impress and at a first glance the RF900 is just more of the same blandness. However, the more I looked at the bike the more its appearance grew on me, until suddenly, almost out of nowhere, there descended on me a desperate need to own one. Motorcycles grab you like that.
I had a pile of money but insufficient to buy a new one, even at Suzuki's relatively reasonable prices. I hated hp with a vehemence that was usually reserved for Volvo drivers, so no way I was going to sign away on the doted line. MCN was consulted, two bikes on offer, both low miles and around £5000. I chose the two month year old as it's owner was mature and willing to take £4750 for the as new bike which was only just run in. This turned out to be excellent value for money.
The centrepiece of the RF is a 900cc watercooled motor that as well as putting out a 125 horses revels in low and midrange power. The bottom half of the engine is derived from the mighty GSXR1100, therefore very strong with excellent potential longevity. The top half is unique to the RF but to the usual 16 valve, DOHC spec with four 36mm Mikuni carbs that are angled upwards to improve the efficiency of the flow.
The dry weight of 460lbs quickly escalates to a whopping 520lbs when a full complement of fluids is added, but initial impressions were of an easy turning, easy running motorcycle that needed only a moments worth of adaptation. Only when I tried to push the machine did its heaviness come home, the usual three dragging disc brakes not helping one bit. A bit of care in parking's needed to ensure the bike can be pulled, or preferably ridden, back out - but the same goes for any across the frame four.
The sensible riding position and comfy, if a touch narrow, seat helped that feeling of instant oneness. The riding position veers towards the sporting but isn't in any way extreme or threatening to limbs. The 31 inch seat height helped remove any feeling of intimidation and the engine mounted as low as possible removed the expected top heaviness. Overall, the bike felt more like a 600 than a 900!
The secure, glued to the road, feel comes from a massive wrap-around steel frame that eschews downtubes by using the engine as a stressed member, mated with an aluminium swinging arm and high quality Showa suspension. The 17'' wheels were already fitted with fat Metzeler radials that seemed to have a divine connection to the tarmac. They were given a relatively easy time by the controlled nature of the power output and good chassis dynamics.
If the plastic makes the RF seem large from a distance, once sat within the sculptured bodywork the feeling is of a much narrower and more compact machine (wheelbase's 57 inches). Steering accuracy is immediately impressive, even via laminated rubber mounted bars that do not entirely remove the odd tremor of vibration. Like few other bikes I've encountered, the Suzuki inspired instant confidence that seemed to heighten the faster we went.
There were only five gears to play with - I suspect that four would've been quite sufficient. Maximum power punches in at 9500 revs but the flow of torque is very strong from as little as 3000rpm, although it actually peaks out at 8500 revs (65ft-lb). Top gear roll-ons from 3500 to 10,000rpm were blistering with no need to change down to make cages seem as if they were standing still.
The transmission was actually smooth down to 1500 revs in top, although it balked when the throttle was hammered open, sulked for a while until a little more momentum was gained. Of course, racing up and down the box was also great fun and made the old girl accelerate that bit faster.
The RF was adaptable, then, turning from a headbanger's delight to a tourer's friend on the whim of the rider rather than trying to impose its own needs over and above those of its owner. The suspension, for instance, would soak up the bumps without totally isolating the rider from the road, there was always a grand amount of feedback that made riding on typically wet and slimy English roads more of a pleasure than a pain.
Wet weather riding would've been even better had the screen been higher, stock it was perfect for throwing a deluge of water at my neck, where it invariably soaked through my scarf. On the good side, hand protection was better than on many a quasi-sportster and my gloves were never left wringing wet. The fairing did keep a lot of wind pressure off, making 120mph cruising quite feasible and even at 160mph I was quite relaxed, only having to go into a mild crouch to avoid having my helmet torn off my head.
Stability remained good as long as the rear shock had its springing and damping turned up to their higher settings - the multi-adjustable shock is quite easy to set up all wrong and can cause the back end to bounce about over bumps. The front forks only have preload adjustment, so are easier to set up, although they do have a hard time as a lot of the engine's weight is forward biased. With 6000 miles now on the clock there is no sign of the suspension going off.
I found that the riding position suited me so well that 600 miles in a day was no problem. My neck felt a touch stiff, for sure, but it was nothing an hour's worth of rest couldn't cure. Out on the open road average fuel consumption was around 45mpg, with a best of 55mpg (just ride legally) and worst of 35mpg (ton plus cruising). I'd usually do 200 miles before having to worry about finding some fuel.
The brakes were initially a disappointment, not having the kind of power that made stoppies a one finger caress. A bit more exploration of the front twin discs, controlled by four piston calipers, revealed that they were highly effective stoppers, just needing a full hand's worth of pressure. They had plenty of feedback, worked extremely well in the wet and always gave the impression that I had fine control over the front wheel's antics.
The one time I had to do an emergency stop, due to the unbelievable antics of a bus sized Volvo (surprise, surprise), both tyres howled and the bike pulled up dead straight with space to spare. My heart was in my mouth and I'd caught my balls on the back of the tank which took so much wind out of me I couldn't even scream for a few moments. The tank driver motored serenely off into the distance without a care in the world.
The rear disc had the caliper mounted on the bottom of the swinging arm, a strange practice as virtually every other bike in the world has it tucked away on top of the arm. It was perfectly positioned to pick up all the road grime. Its performance has noticeably gone off over the last 1000 miles, becoming very grabby, so much so that I don't use it much, which will probably cause the whole thing to seize up solidly.
Such stupidity was mitigated by a beautiful exhaust system that should last the life of the bike! The silencer was made out of aluminium and the four into one downpipes from stainless steel. The exhaust note was quite eerie, soul stirring, under throttle but never loud enough to annoy anyone - I would've preferred a bit more noise as it gave cars a warning of my presence. I think stainless steel and/or alloy should be compulsory in exhaust systems as it stops all the bodging that goes down when normal steel rusts through.
Also on the plus side, so far the RF's cost hardly anything to run. I changed the oil every 3000 miles but the valves don't need doing for 7500 miles, the carbs have stayed in balance and all the consumables have a few thousand more miles of life left in them, even the tyres.
That means I have more money to pay for fuel so can ride the bike much more than something like Honda's CBR900, which is lighter and faster but goes through tyres in a few thousand miles and lacks the relaxed, versatile nature of the RF. Suzuki have cleverly blended relatively low running costs, superb power delivery at road speeds (even when speeding indecently) with an agile chassis that can hustle or tour with the best of them. In fact, the nicest compliment I can think of is that the RF's the modern incarnation of the Universal Japanese Four!
Tim Lloyd