Suzuki TL1000s
Is it as mental as we remember?
Back in 1997, Ducati’s V-twins had been clearing up in WSB for years and, through greater availability, were starting to make an impact, not only in the British market, but in the British Superbike Championship too. Japanese manufacturers tried, but failed to get the big twins outlawed, so Suzuki and Honda started to look towards producing their own. And instead of diving straight into racing, and potentially looking silly by not getting it right, they opted to produce sports focused road bikes first.
Suzuki’s offering was the TL1000S with its High Tech fuel injection, F1-inspired rotary damper rear suspension, light weight (for the time) and a powerful engine; on paper it promised to be a Ducati Killer. I was still a spotty faced teenager just itching to turn 16 so I could get on the road and I spent all my pocket money on sports bike magazines, partly because back in those days they were an easy way to see boobs, but mainly it was for planning which bike I would have when I finally got a full licence. I can remember the Suzuki TL1000S’s infamous arrival and all the negative press that surrounded it and proclaimed it an unashamed serial killer that would eat babies, refuse to hold the door open for old people and so on.
The main problems were supposedly a tendency to perform impromptu tankslappers at the slightest hint of throttle or tiniest of bumps in the road, as well as lots of other little niggles. I suppose I should have realised at the time that I maybe wasn’t wired up like most people because the bike’s bad reputation only made me want one more; I mean, what fun is riding a bike that does what it’s told all the time.
Over the next few years the TL’s foibles were addressed and it was toned down with the addition of a steering damper and a new CDI, which dulled down the low end punch and top end power of the engine. By this time its bad reputation had already hampered sales and production stopped in 2001. Skip forward a few years and I still had the TL itch to scratch from my youth, so I set about finding one. It had to be the original ‘mental’ one and I managed to get hold of a mint low-mileage bog stock one in red, complete with the Suzuki pillion seat cover. I rode it 20 miles home and that was enough to convince me the bike was no monster (within 10 minutes of getting home the steering damper was binned).
I did about 5000 miles on it in the year I had it and during that time I found out most of its killer tendencies appeared to be wildly exaggerated or probably happened due to bad maintenance (incorrect chain tension causing the suspension to lock or the slipper clutch not operating properly, for example). My local Lincolnshire roads are mostly twisty, bumpy, up and down ones; everything one might expect would send the bike into a hissy fit, yet I never had anything more than a gentle weave and that only tended to be when the rotary damper started to overheat.
Yes, it was lively out of corners but what do you expect a lightweight and powerful twin to be? I think a lot of the problem was down to it being the first time a big twin was available at a price affordable to the masses (around 5k less than the less powerful 916) and the low down punch catching out those that were used to screaming inline fours.
Many of the niggles were easily fixed too, a set of race cans, performance filter and a TRE (Timing Retard Eliminator – old-school go faster goodie) really helped the engine run sweetly, and a stiffer rear spring and some thicker oil in the rear damper (as well as having the suspension set-up) did wonders for the handling. Regrettably, I ended up having to sell my TL to fund my racing at the time and I was sad to see it go.
In with the old
So what was the point of all that reminiscing? Well, fast-forward a bit more and I found myself at Cadwell Park for the Team Classic Suzuki Trackday. While I was there I was honoured to be asked if I would like to take the Suzuki Vintage parts built TL1000S out for a session. Does a bear crap in the woods? It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up on. When else would I ever get the chance to ride a brand new TL again?
The bike was built at the Motorcycle Live bike show in 2014 from over 1200 entirely New Old Stock parts in an effort to show the extent of parts that are still available to buy. Since then it has been on display at numerous shows and events. Seeing the bike in the flesh, with its understated black colour scheme, its big aluminium trellis frame on display, the oh-so-Nineties bulbous curvy bodywork complete with single seat hump and the headlight that looks like the bike is scowling and angry, it still ticks all the right boxes for me.
I was like a kid at Christmas when I heard the thing getting fired up, as I knew that before long it would be my turn to take it out for a blast. It was checked over, carefully warmed up by the Suzuki technician and I was given the nod to go. As I jumped on, everything felt instantly familiar – slightly top heavy and a bit softly sprung, but a fairly comfy riding position; sporty but not too extreme. I was so keen to get on track that I arrived in the collecting area first and, as I came to a stop, the engine cut out (a typical early TL trait). I had a little chuckle to myself, likening it to a dog not wanting to go out in the rain. A quick prod of the starter and it was happily ticking over again.
As I waited for everyone else to turn up I looked down at the odometer to discover there was less than 10 miles on it – this
wasn’t just a virtually new bike, I was going to be the first person ever to ride it in anger.
A quick glance at the tyres showed they weren’t scrubbed in and looked more like a sports touring tyre than super sticky trackday rubber. I was actually getting a bit nervous. I wouldn’t be too popular if I threw it at the scenery but the noise of other bikes arriving brought me back to my senses.
Soon enough the collecting area was full and we were being waved out onto circuit. Straight away I got a bit of a warning to take it steady as the front wheel tucked a bit on the first time into the Hairpin. I spent the rest of the lap tootling round quite tentatively before starting to pick up the pace, until after a few laps I was a bit more relaxed.
As I started to feel a bit more confident, the bike started to bed in too, which allowed me to start seeing what it was really capable of. For the most part it was everything I expected it to be – handling wise, weighing over 210kgs fuelled up and with the factory steering damper slowing things down, it took a fair bit of muscling round, especially in fast direction changes. But once over on its side it remained pretty planted and stable, and like most bikes of this era, getting your line right into a corner was essential – changing mid corner is not an option.
The USD Showa Forks and Rotary damper were doing a reasonable job of soaking up the bumps, even though it was a bit soft for pushing really hard. The same was true of the brakes, the conventional master cylinder and four-pot Tokico calipers had enough power to scrub off speed fairly quickly, but lacked the initial bite and outright power of modern radial brakes.
Fast enough?
The only thing about the whole riding experience that seemed a bit off was the punch from the engine – while it delivered nice seamless power all the way through the rev range, it felt a bit lacklustre compared to how I remembered. Just as I was getting reacquainted the session was over and it was time to pootle to the pits and hand it back over. However, that was not to be the end of my TL reunion...
Having seen that I had blown my own bike up, Tim Davies, the Suzuki Vintage Parts boss, was quick to offer the use of the TL for the rest of the day – what a top bloke. I ended up going out for another three sessions and the more time I spent on the bike, the more fun I had. By the end of the second session I was dragging my knee on the floor and getting massive air over the mountain (2mm of lift off at least, I reckon). The motor also seemed to be loosening up a lot, pulling harder than previously and more like I remembered. There was instant smooth power on tap all the way to the limiter. The previous 10 miles it had covered were probably not quite enough to run it in sufficiently, but a few sessions at Cadwell seemed to do it good.
When I went out for the third session I was really feeling it and after a couple of warm-up laps I was pushing the bike pretty hard when, right on cue, the bike’s Achilles heel showed itself – the infamous rotary rear damper. It quickly stopped being a damper and instead opted to be more of a pogo stick (the lack of oil capacity and its proximity to the rear exhaust pipe mean it overheats quickly when worked hard). This wasn’t in a particularly dangerous way mind, the rear end just starts to undulate a little bit in long fast corners and squirm a bit when hard on the gas. I had to remind myself this bike wasn’t built as a track weapon and I heeded the warnings and didn’t push any harder, and in all honesty there wasn’t a lot left in the tyres at this point anyway.
My fourth and last session was pretty similar to the third, as by the time I had got the tyres up to temperature, the damper was starting to overheat. In my mind I was a WSB rider with a one-lap window to string together the perfect Superpole lap, as that’s all I had – one lap in which everything was working as it should – one lap to go as fast as possible. And once I’d finished pretending to be a hero, I dialled it back and enjoyed the rest of the session at a slightly slower pace.
I was enjoying myself and I could have stayed out all day, but the fuel light signalled the end of the day and I had to reluctantly hand the keys back to the Suzuki technicians, who I’m sure were more than a little relieved to see it come back unharmed after a day of abuse at the hands of yours truly.
IT NEVER ONCE TRIED TO MURDER ME.
Conclusion
Having spent a day hammering around Cadwell on what is almost certainly the world’s most pristine example of a TL1000S, I am again left wondering how on earth the bike got its bad reputation. It behaved impeccably all day and even with my inept ham-fistedness around one of the most technical and undulating tracks in the UK, it never once tried to murder me. I never expected it to. What it did do is rekindle old memories and take me back to a time when bikes were simple, uncomplicated things built with fun in mind instead of lap times.
The bike left me chuckling in my helmet and grinning all day, not because it was particularly fast, or because it handled really well (remember it was never intended for track use in its day), but because unlike modern bikes that do everything for you and can be ridden to their limits with your eyes closed (figuratively speaking), it was me making it go, stop and point where I wanted it to. And doing all that took real effort and concentration. It’s a really satisfying feeling and for me, particularly in a trackday environment, enjoyment like that is what it’s all about.
All that’s left to say is a big thanks to Tim and the Suzuki Vintage Parts team for building such a magnificent bike and for giving me the opportunity to ride it – it was certainly an experience to remember.