SUZUKI GT185
This month Scoop is hooning around on one of the 1970s’ seriously overlooked strokers, the GT185. But why this cubic capacity Suzuki?
Steve Cooper rides a relative rarity from the 1970s.
How come you rarely see a Suzuki GT185 these days? I ask out of genuine curiosity, as the sub 250 twin from Hamamatsu was once a common sight hurtling along Her Majesty’s finest Tarmac. For a machine that had a solid six-year production run, there are precious few around now, or so it seems. Perhaps it’s an ego thing. When the classic scene really got going, it was the big bikes that everyone wanted, and few paid much heed to sub 250cc machinery, viewing them as nothing but mere stepping stones to the bigger, grander and more ostentatious tackle they aspired to as teenagers. Many a smaller bike was robbed of its key, precious parts and/or sent packing to the knacker’s yard. Thankfully, owner Mal Williams has a history with smaller Suzukis and was more than happy to rescue this one from a small mountain of cardboard boxes, so we can now report back on one of the 1970s’ hidden gems.
The bike may ‘only’ be a 185, yet what it might lack in terms of cubic centimetres it more than makes up for in looks. It may very well be pure bling, yet it’s bling for all the right reasons, as the Suzuki GT185 was designed to get teenage pulses racing via acres of chrome plate festooned from every angle, some suitably buffed semi-satin alloy and, of course, that gorgeous candy red paint set off by silver decals and pinstripes. Say what you will about some of the more obscene excesses of the 1970s, but chrome and silver do go together rather well when augmented by a decent cherry red. The bike’s lines hark back to the earliest days of Suzuki’s GT range, circa 1972, when details such as faux air inlets in the side panels, exposed satin black air-box covers and bold decals were all the rage. Even if the later GT185S had more reserved paint schemes, they are still children from the early psychedelic age. And if that small portal of aesthetic exuberance was often powered by certain chemical stimulants, then possibly the Ram-air cylinder head was an artefact of those illicit pick-me-ups. Despite being ridden within inches of its life, fed dubious bottles of cheap 2T, run on a diet of two-star leaded petrol and wheelied to impress the Saturday schoolgirls working in Woolworths, the GT185 didn’t really need that curious alloy cowling. The jury is, and will remain forever, out on that divisive device. However, that said, it did give the bike additional bragging rights against the likes of Honda’s CB175. There’s no debate as to the bike’s cosmetics. Suzuki’s styling teams were at the top of their game during this period, and knew almost instinctively how to make a bike look greater than the sum of its parts. The headlight looks large and thus suggests the bike isn’t a tiddler. If chrome plate equals sales appeal, then the diminutive GT must have flown out of the dealer’s showrooms because the damn stuff is everywhere. In a period where many were either painting headlamp bowls and brackets satin black or the same colour as the panels was the norm, Suzuki was laying on the shiny stuff by the shovel load… even the horn and the bases of the gauges are covered in it! The one-piece exhausts, similarly bedecked, are set at a subtle, yet rakish upswept angle implying speed, and run parallel to rear of the seat, which mimics the same angle. Satin black switch gear ties in with the main body of the gauges, whose faces promise nigh on 100mph potential and redline in excess of eight grand. Yes, the bike is a learner machine and below the quarter litre mark, but nothing has been skimped on here. We’re talking pure 1970s teenage class… an
“Designed to get teenage pulses racing via acres of chrome plate festooned from every angle! There's no doubt that Suzuki's styling team were at the very top of their game with the GT185!”
oxymoron if ever there was one! At the heart of the bike lies an apparently simple, piston-ported, two-stroke twin motor, which lacks the techno-fest of the Yamaha RD200’S reed-valve set-up. Quite why Suzuki chose the odd capacity of 185 cubic centimetres is perpetually up for discussion. Whilst it aces similar Hondas by a whole 10ccs, it gives away another 15 to the aforementioned Yamaha. The previous, outgoing, T200 Invader had sported a full-on 196cc mill, so what the logic is to opting for 185ccs is anyone’s guess unless, of course, it was simply to distinguish the bike within its peer group. Suzuki had built their reputation on quality two-stroke engineering, and the GT185 was no different. Key to the bike’s reliability was the oil-injection system, once known as Posi-force, and latterly CCI (Crank Case Injection), and those three letters carry significant meaning. Arch rivals Yamaha had traditionally run a single oil line into the inlet tract of the engine. Whilst that might have worked for Suzuki’s engineering team, such a set-up was perceived as adequate at best. On most of its twin cylinder strokers the company ran one pipe per pot to the main bearings and another to the back of the cylinder. With this set-up, logic argued that both the piston/rings and the main bearings were being fed fresh, clean oil. In comparison, Yamaha’s chuck-it-in approach was almost cavalier… in theory at least. Sitting on board the 185, the immediate impression is one of size. It doesn’t carry the mass of a GT250 or stack up to its bigger brother in terms of feet and inches, yet it gives you the feeling of being a decent-sized piece of kit. As the bike is part of that small, but elite ‘200 Club’, the rider is presented with a dilemma – stand on the kick-start or push the button on the right bar? Either will have the same, almost instantaneous, effect, but firing a 1970s stroker up without lifting a leg does have a certain cachet about it. Quite why the 175s/185s/200s of the period had an electric foot is still, four decades on, an engima. If owners of 125s, 250s and 350s were able to fire their bikes up without electrical assistance, why were these tranche of sub-250s thus graced? If anyone knows the answer, please tell us. Regardless of starting MO, the twin fires up in a moment and quietly chortles away to itself with an almost liquid burble. It takes but a few moments before the choke can be flicked off and after several considered handfuls of throttle the exhaust is now striking a purposeful note with more than a hint of
what’s to come. With the bike eager to get underway we’re in gear and off, getting a feel for both brakes and handling. Rattling around South Wales’s famous Black Mountains on a busy Saturday means I need to have faith in what I’m riding and keep my wits about me. Not that I needed to worry, to be honest. The bike is predictable and controlled, yet surprisingly precise in its handling. There’s not a huge amount of mass here, yet the front-end that felt light at low speeds doesn’t feel flighty as we up the pace. The drum rear brake is dependable and offers a decent amount of feel, whilst the front disc is totally trustworthy, if a little wooden in feel. Given some fairly fierce gradients to contend with allied to numerous blind bends graced with adverse camber, it’s reassuring to know and rely on the bike’s road manners, which means I can now open the taps. As the revs mount the immediate impression is just how smooth the motor is; practically turbine like and certainly not redolent of the hard, almost racer-like buzz of a Yamaha RD200. Pushed towards the upper echelons of the rev range there’s some vibration through the foot pegs, but it disappears when you click up a gear and this is, perhaps, the bike’s only real foible. Although you can always select whichever gear you need, there’s an odd remoteness to the process. According to owner Mal Williams, there’s an unnecessarily complicated linkage behind the rear left outer engine casing, and to coin that well-known phrase… they all do that, sir. Not that you automatically need to dance on the gear pedal to get the best out of those 185 cubic centimetres. From 4000rpm and above the motor is surprisingly flexible and not at all what I was expecting. If truth be told, I’d assumed the GT185 would simply be a larger version of the physically similar GT125: wrong! Whereas the 125 needs to be worked hard, revved almost to the point of apparent destruction, then hoiked abruptly into the next ratio, the 185 will breathe deep and just get on with the job if you want to ride on the torque. Of course if
you want to get a wiggle on, then the motor will happily comply. Chase the tacho needle towards the red and the exhaust delivers a high-pitched growl as the carbs hurl air and fuel into the crankcases. Keep the motor on the boil, ride on the throttle, then pitch the red and chrome mini-missile into a bend and it comes alive. Practice your lines through a series of bends until well-rehearsed, and the bike’s appeal is only to obvious. That super-smooth engine, allied to the well-built chassis, facilitates some potentially seriously stupid cornering speeds for a small bike. And yet, as you catch up with some local slow speed tourist and have to slow down, the dynamics of the stroker’s various ports confers a surprising degree of mid throttle flexibility. Pretty much any gear above that four grand engine speed will do whatever you want, with the notable exception of top (fifth), which is very much more of an overdrive than a super flexible ratio. Comparisons to its obvious market place rival, the Yamaha RD200, are inevitable. The Suzuki’s piston ported motor is almost as tractable as the Yamaha’s more technically sophisticated reed valve mill. Handling-wise, there’s really not much in it. Even though the Suzuki runs a theoretically more robust frame, with a semi-cradle running under the motor and bracing the swing arm pivots, the Yamaha’s road manners are as good, if not slightly better. However, where the GT185 aces, the RD is in that impossible to define and nebulous quality, feel. If the Yamaha comes over as clinically precise, the Suzuki offers an almost visceral edge. It may all be down to perception, but for me the GT185 has an undefinable, almost animalistic, side to it that somehow just gets under the rider’s skin. I’d approached the bike with a half-suspicion it’d be a frenetic buzz bomb, but I’ve come away more than a little impressed. The Suzuki GT185 may very run an odd-sized engine, but there’s nothing strange, abnormal or eccentric about the bike. It really is one of the best ’70s strokers you rarely ever see. cmm
“As the revs mount the immediate impression is just how smooth the motor is, practically turbine like and certainly not redolent of the hard, almost racer like, buzz of a Yamaha RD200.”