Michael Neeves gets to enjoy the legendary Rumi RC30
Three decades on from its WSB title success Rumi’s RC30 racer is still a dream ride for MCN’s Michael Neeves
Back in the late 1980s Honda’s VFR750R, or the RC30 to you and me, was about as exotic as superbikes got. A road-going take on Honda’s factory RVF750 TT-F1 Suzuka 8-Hour racer, it cost an eye-watering £8455 when it hit showrooms in 1988 – twice the price of the Suzuki GSX-R750J Slingshot of the day.
Homologated to compete in the inaugural World Superbike Championship, the 112bhp, 185kg, 748cc, V4 wide-eyed dream machine was about ready-to-race out of the box, just like the Ducati Panigale V4 R is now, more than three decades later. The HRC-developed racebike-with-lights dripped with the latest techology and sported an Elfdevloped single-sided swingarm, quick-release front spindle and a sculpted aluminium frame designed to flex in key areas to offer racers more feel.
It was a dream bike, which was rarely seen on the road and even less conspicuous in full race trim. Back when I was an 18-year-old yoof, about to start 750 and 250cc club racing, my mind-boggled at the thought of how much it must cost to race an RC30, not that I was ever good enough or had deep enough pockets to find out – but it didn’t cost anything to dream.
Without the kind of blanket media coverage we now enjoy, you’d only ever steal fleeting glimpses of the Honda in magazines, which only served to strengthen the RC30’s legend. If you were really lucky you might have seen one in full-flying V4 anger in the metal at the TT in the hands of Joey, or trackside at British circuits ridden by the likes of Foggy, Whitham, Morrison, Burnett, Mackenzie and Crafar.
As well as racking up more TT wins, factory RVF750s carried on winning at Suzuka in the hands of 500cc GP legends Gardner, Doohan and Beattie, but it was down to the privateer Rumi team to fly the RC30’s flag in WSB. They won at their first attempt in 1988 and again in ’89 with ‘Flying’ Fred Merkel at the controls,
where he also delivered Pirelli’s first ever world championship, breaking the Michelin and Dunlop stronghold for the first time.
The flamboyant Californian won two races that first season and three in the second, beating hard-riding Tardozzi, Lucchinell, Pirovano, Mertens and Roche along the way. Merkel would have wrapped up the ’90 title, too, had it not been for a mid-season injury.
Thirty years after Rumi won that final WSB title we’re at Pergusa – the circuit that played host (just once) to the Italian round of WSB in 1989. Falappa was on pole, with wins by Roche and Mertens.
It’s just like Merkel’s
Basking in the Sicilian sunshine, this shiny purple and black Rumi RC30 isn’t actually Merkel’s ’89 championship winner, but its sister bike, built by the same team and ridden by Salvo Pennisi (now head of Pirelli motorcycle tyres test team), to win the Sicilian Superbike
‘The RC30 was so far ahead of its time that it hasn’t aged one bit’
Championship. Look closely and you’ll notice the Honda’s flat nose is signed by RC30 project leader and now HRC boss Yoshishige Nomura. It’s just like Fred’s, with the same chassis spec and weighing a waiflike 165kg (WSB’s then minimum weight limit), but the motor has a slightly milder state of tune for reliability, kicking-out around 120bhp compared to the Merkel’s bike’s more meaty 130bhp. Testament to how ahead of its time it was, the Rumi RC30 hasn’t aged one bit and still looks as mouthwatering today as it did 30 years ago. Go back another decade and bikes looked decidedly vintage, with their spindly tubular frames, skinny tyres and tiny brakes.
The whole package is tiny. The ’pegs are high, ’bars narrow, the screen is low and there’s little room to move around in the seat. But those delicate dimensions create a deliciously light racer that feels more like a 250cc GP bike than a superbike. Instruments are restricted to a simple white on black tacho, temperature gauge, a kill switch… and that’s it.
750 is the magic number
Even by today’s standards a roadgoing RC30 is still special and I’ve been lucky enough to ride a few in MCN tests, but my dream to experience a true race bike is about to come true. It’s quick to overheat once we’ve bumped it into life – understandable as it’s been sitting on display in Mr Pennisi’s living room for the past 30 years, so I waste no time clicking first gear (road pattern shift) and with a fist-full of revs and slipping clutch we’re now rolling up Pergusa’s pitlane, riding the wave of its infamous tall first gear. Tucked in under the bubble, chin resting on the racing filler cap, it stinks of fuel and there’s a huge flat spot at 7000rpm, but that all adds to the drama because when the little Honda clears its throat it, there it is: that crunchy, crackly V4 soundtrack exploding through its Termignoni exhaust. A tuned 120bhp motor isn’t fast by today’s superbike standards, or even supersport for that matter, but it’s more than enough to thrill, here at this fiercely quick track. Fast, fluid, yet easy to ride it’s as far removed from an angry, modern superbike as you can imagine. Plush Öhlins suspension and a perfectly balanced chassis help the Rumi RC30 glide from corner to corner with minimal effort and as each lap unfolds the Honda begs you to dial in more lean angle and corner speed. A 17in rear wheel (replacing the road bike’s 18-incher) and slim 180/55 tyre allows the RC30 to steer with the lightest of input, compared with the monster 200-section steamroller tyres WSB now has. And thanks to the kind of grip from 17-inch slicks that class of ’89 could have only dreamed of, only mechanical sympathy stops you really pulling the pin and overindulging. Non-radial (remember them?) Brembos hiss under the strain of hard braking and are as powerful as anything you’ll find on a modern sportsbike. This might be a rough and ready race bike, but Honda’s sublime ’80s build quality still shines through. Even after all this time the clutch, gearbox, throttle and switches all spin, click and rotate like they’re brand new.
Superbikes are now undoubtedly faster, but they’re brutes. They pummel your body under braking, cornering and the brute force of acceleration. They mince your muscles and fry your brain after a handful of laps, but you could ride the RC30 all day, perfecting your lines, flirting with braking points and slashing lap times.
It’s proof, if needed, that litre bikes are too much for all but racing gods and 750 really is the magic number – Suzuki’s GSX-R750 is one of the best sportsbikes ever made. Just imagine a modern day RC30, or the return of the R7 and, ZX-7R… My stint on the Rumi RC30 is almost over. It’s a mixture of relief that I haven’t damaged this beautiful piece of V4 history and sadness that I’ll probably never get to ride a racing RC30 again. It’s been a 30year dream realised and it hasn’t disappointed one bit.
‘With a fist-full of revs we’re now rolling up pitlane’