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.