YAMAHA V-MAX
The V-max redefined the term muscle-bike on its launch in 1985, and all these years later a full-power example of Yamaha’s mighty V4 still packs a punch.
Roland Brown rides the muscle-bound V4 from the 1980s.
One short blast was sufficient to be reminded of just what earned the big bad V-max its reputation. When the traffic briefly cleared on a wide A-road somewhere in Surrey, I wound back the throttle and the V4 engine went to work, revving hard to send the bike storming forward like a rampaging buffalo.
For the next few seconds it was a wild ride. I was hanging on tight, the cold wind ripping at my carelessly fastened jacket, no time to glance down at the speedo, let alone the tiny tacho set into the top of the dummy fuel tank. This sort of performance is exciting from a naked bike now, never mind when Yamaha’s V4 wheel-spun its way on to the scene 35 years ago.
And when riding a V-max, it’s a fair bet that you’ll soon be experiencing excitement of a different kind. Moments later a curve loomed up, so I shut off and squeezed the front brake lever.
As the raised handlebars twitched slightly from side to side due to the forces being put through them, the Yamaha slowed only reluctantly, its front stopper managing to feel wooden, then turn spongy when I squeezed harder.
I made the corner without problem; the V-max’s reputation, and my memories of testing one all those years ago, ensured that I’d allowed plenty of leeway. Because far from being unexpected, that feeling of being slightly on the edge of control is simply part of life when you ride an early V-max. Indeed, those few seconds of fast, but flawed, performance just about sum up a machine whose styling, powerful 1198cc V4 engine and marginal chassis put it in a different league from every other bike on the road on its release in 1985.
Back then it seemed unfair that the V-max was initially sold only in the States (at least officially),
but then again it was the most American of Japanese bikes. It had been designed and developed there, albeit having been conceived by one of Yamaha’s leading Japanese designers, and shaped with the help of British custom builder John ‘Uncle Bunt’ Reed. Its image as a two-wheeled Yank muscle-car was enhanced by the big alloy air-scoops jutting out from the side of its dummy fuel tank.
The scoops and tank were fake but the highoctane performance was real. The V4 engine was based on a liquid-cooled, 72-degree unit that had been designed for the Venture Royal tourer, but this made only 90bhp and developing it to power the new muscle bike was no easy task. Conventional tuning mods included bigger valves with slimmer stems, hotter cams, lightened pistons, and tougher crankshaft and con-rods. But Yamaha still needed more power. The inspired solution was V-boost, which paired carburettors’ intakes, so that at high revs each cylinder was fed by two 35mm downdraft Mikunis instead of one.
The result was a healthy maximum output of 143bhp at 8000rpm, with a significant step when the V-boost kicked in at 6000rpm. That ensured that the Yamaha stomped away from a standstill harder than any other production vehicle in 1985, frequently leaving a black stripe with its fattest-yet 150-section rear tyre. The fact that its chassis was barely able to cope simply added to the impact. The Max outclassed rival power-cruisers such as Honda’s VF1100C Magna and Suzuki’s GV1200 Madura. It was immediately popular in the States, despite a high price, and before long had begun to earn a cult following.
Yamaha had intended the V-max as a Us-market only model but Jean-claude Olivier, boss of Yamaha Motor France, saw its potential, and by the end of
1986 it was available there and in some other European markets too, albeit restricted to 100bhp by the V-boost being removed. That restriction didn’t prevent it becoming the machine of choice for posing in the coastal towns of Provence in the late 1980s, as Brits who visited for the Bol d’or might recall. The Max wasn’t officially imported to the UK until 1991, and even then arrived in restricted form. But by then many bikes had reached these shores as grey imports, most with a full stable of horses.
Fortunately there was no such handicap with the test bike, which dated from 1987 and was a Canadian market model, standard apart from a fly-screen and aftermarket stainless steel silencers. After I’d fired up the motor and set off through traffic, one surprising aspect of the bike’s appeal soon became clear. Its reflection in the shop windows was mean and macho, of course, but the Max was unintimidating and easy to ride. Its slightly raised bars gave an upright, roomy riding position that combined with fairly soft suspension to make the bike comfortable in town.
Sure, the Yamaha felt a bit tall and heavy, but its weight (254kg dry) was carried quite low down, thanks partly to the under-seat fuel tank, and the fat rear Bridgestone Exedra helped make the bike relatively easy to balance and manoeuvre. Low-rev
carburation was crisp; vibration minimal. The five-speed box shifted sweetly without too much clonking from the drive shaft, and the exhaust note through the aftermarket pipes was fruity without being particularly loud.
That’s until I found a straight enough road, wound back the throttle and held on tight as the needle of the tiny tank-mounted tacho hit 6000rpm, the V-boost kicked in, and the V-max reacted as though shot from a catapult. Like many V-max riders before me, I was glad of the heavily stepped seat as the bike ripped forward with increased enthusiasm, breathing deeply – although not, of course, through those dummy air-scoops.
Like most V-max pilots I backed off again before the distinctly un-aerodynamic bike reached its top speed of about 140mph. Back in 1985 that was more than fast enough, especially given that the US was still stuck with the 55mph speed limit that had been introduced during the previous decade’s oil crisis. Plenty of owners doubtless used only a fraction of that awesome straight-line performance, but that didn’t prevent them from enjoying the bike’s potential and the mean image that its heavy horsepower conveyed.
Although concepts like rider-friendliness were at odds with the V-max’s bad-boy appeal, ironically the big V4’s grunty nature meant that it was in some ways better suited to rapid road riding than sportier bikes. Its reputation as a drag-strip king couldn’t prevent it being put in its place in that respect by Suzuki’s GSX-R1100, which used its near 70kg weight advantage to post a 0.6-second quicker standing-quarter time when I tested them back-toback at MIRA in 1987. But in a top gear roll-on from 50mph the V-max stormed through the lights almost three-tenths quicker than the Gixxer.
The Yamaha’s speed and weight meant that you could quickly get yourself in trouble if you weren’t careful, but its handling wasn’t as bad as some reports indicated. Given the bike’s size, weight, performance and lack of fairing it’s not surprising that high-speed wobbles were a distinct possibility. Especially given that the chassis comprised a
conventional tubular steel frame, skinny 40mm front forks and a fairly basic pair of rear shock units.
But as my memory of riding it back then suggested, and my spin on this well-preserved bike confirmed, the V-max rarely tried to get seriously out of shape. It just felt big and cumbersome, steered slowly (thanks partly to kicked-out 29-degree rake angle) and lurched slightly through fast curves, especially with the throttle shut. A fairly substantial aluminium fork brace did its best to prevent the air-assisted front fork tubes from bending under the strain.
At least this bike’s Bridgestone Exedra tyres gripped well, and for what was basically a cruiser the V-max always had a reasonable amount of ground clearance.
One thing it didn’t have much of even when new was stopping power, as the fairly small front discs were gripped by simple opposed-piston calipers similar to those of the far lighter RD350LC. The intervening years had made things worse, but at least the rear disc was there to give some assistance.
Yamaha improved both brakes and suspension in 1993, fully eight years after the Max’s launch, when it gained thicker 43mm forks, bigger discs and four-piston front brake calipers. By this time the bike had become a cult vehicle in many major worldwide markets, and was otherwise almost unchanged from the original apart from some minor cosmetic modifications.
Another 12 years later, in 2005, a 20th Anniversary V-max was released in the US, featuring special paintwork, plastic lenses, a serial-numbered registration plate… and that’s about all. In both looks and performance the mighty V-max had barely changed in two decades, while remaining the naked muscle bike by which others were judged. No wonder it still commands so much respect today.