Superbike Spanking
Dangerous is let loose on a factory Suzuki GSX-1000R Superbike…
When I was growing up I wanted to be a superbike racer, but that turned out to be hard work so I took up writing instead. Thankfully my mate put the graft in, and when he grew up he bagged a ride on the Hawk Suzuki superbike… and then he let me test it. Friends don’t come much better than Richard Cooper who, following a simply awesome year for the Hawk Racing team on a stocker last season, got the coveted ride to partner Brad Ray on the factory-backed BSB Suzukis in 2018.
It’s a bike that’s now been in development since the start of last year and has garnered several wins from several different riders. If you’re wondering how they’ve got it so good so quickly the answers are manifold. The main one, however, is that the men behind the magic, Stuart and Steve Hicken, know a thing or two about making bikes go fast, and riders feel confident as a result.
Having worked with most of the top brands and even more top jockeys over a period of several decades, there’s not much the dynamic father-son duo don’t know, which pretty much explains how they powered Michael Dunlop to his Suzuki-shod TT win in the 2017 Senior on the box fresh Gixer. Of course, what you can do with a bike racing the roads compared to one kitted for BSB is really quite different, with the latter made all the more limited by the controlling measures intended to keep big wallets from simply buying wins like lottery tickets. BSB bikes have controlled electronics for starters, being governed by Motec ECUs that render them only slightly less technophobic than black and white tellies. They’re limited on minimum weight (167kg), made to run on control tyres (Pirellis), and can’t have any engine work done below the cylinder heads.
BSB’s hardly the pioneering development scene that it used to be, but it’s all the better for such limitations, as the racing’s never been closer. That said, it surprised me when Steve started talking me over Cooper’s bike, which not only had stock radiators, but only a mildly modified swingarm that allowed for a slightly longer wheelbase and easy wheel changes. Surely there had to be a bit more magic to the bike that to get the better of Shakey and Co? And there was. Being the official Suzuki team, the Hawk bikes get factory spec cylinder heads, cams and fuel cells. The Yoshimura full system can’t be bought, and the same goes for many other trick bits, such as the factory spec race fairings and bespoke designed rearsets and yokes. The more I heard, the more special it seemed, and sitting on Coop’s Gixer the special was taken to a whole new level.
Time to test
Having given the old limbs a warm up with a few laps around Silverstone on a stock GSX-R, the time had finally come to give the BSB bike a bit of a tickle. It was a buzz to be reacquainted with the familiarly taller, firmer and wider ’barred disposition that all superbikes tend to have, but what made Richard’s bike that little bit different was the chastity belt holding me in place.
Being pinned to the tank by a pronounced bum-stop, I initially thought this was just Coops taking the piss, but he explained it helped him keep his weight forward and he said I’d never feel it once I got hustling into bends (which turned out to be true). The rest of the bike felt spacious, with the factory-spec fairings and the bespoke MRA screen giving me an office big enough for Rik Waller to nestle behind. Naturally, the Suzuki’s Nova gearbox was in race shift, and naturally, I’d just have to man up and deal with the fact that the Gixer had absolutely zero traction control to govern its 215bhp output – it only slows you down anyway, eh?
The touch of a green button on the right switchgear fired the Suzuki into life, lighting up the Motec dash and giving me a distraction from all the questioning onlookers who probably wondered how the hell I’d wrangled such a jammy ride. It’s not who you know… although that proverb fell on its arse as I fumbled my way through the pits wondering how to disengage the limiter. I hadn’t a bloody clue, but the answer became clear once I’d changed gear and joined the track.
Unrestricted, the rush of power was tantalising as my body was forced rearwards with the cracking of the throttle. But even more impressive than the power was the agility of the bike, which flopped on its ear quicker than a hooker drops her draws, pitching into Maggots with such ease even Pretty Boy could’ve muscled it. Probably owing to the taller seat height, the wider circumference Pirelli slicks and the even greater ground clearance, the superbike seemed to want to lean for England.
It also wanted to hold a tight line and required greater entry speed to stop the thing from turning too sharp. It felt heavenly, and within a lap I was really feeling at home on it. The road bike had been a bit of a mare, feeling soft, grip-less and physically hard to manoeuvre where I wanted it; the Hawk bike felt lighter than a ballerina with helium shoes.
Regardless of a corner’s speed, it just obliged and made light work of the numerous late apex corners on the track which demand that you pull impossibly tight lines to set up the next corner’s entry. I only managed a handful of laps before the session got red flagged, but being the generous guy that he is, Steve agreed to let me head out for another stint.
End game
Feeling every bit the rockstar and armed with some idea of what to expect, that second bout was nothing short of ecstasy. From the get-go, going fast was my only focus, fighting my way to the front of the traffic and buzzing as I peaked at 14,000rpm in sixth down the back straight. God knows what speed I was doing, but it felt fast. Stupidly fast.
But all it took was a bit of squeezing on the svelte-actioned front brake lever to scrub off some 100mph in readiness for Stowe. The stopping power of this bike’s Brembos felt as impressive as its acceleration, being aided further by a harsh engine braking map that had been dialled in for Knockhill a few weeks before. I wasn’t as keen on that bit of the motor as it gave the bike a tendency to snatch from the rear the minute I let off the throttle, which on corners like Farm meant I had a few sketchy moments at lean.
Another thing that gave me visions of pain was the aggressive way the bike would kick when snatching up another gear mid-corner, under heavy drive. On a lesser powered bike it’s seldom such an issue, but keeping a wide throttle and hooking up on the Gixer would almost cause it to bunny hop in a bend – I later spoke to Coops about this and he said the answer lay in body positioning and a bit of rear brake. Everything about the experience felt as excitingly speedy as I’d of hoped it to be, but the Hawk bike didn’t turn out to be half the animal I’d expected. I rode McAms’ superbike R1 last year and that scared the crap out of me, feeling harsh and unwieldy by comparison. The nicest trait to the Gixer was its throttle delivery that felt both predictable and manageable, being very similar to that of Hutchy’s 2017 Tyco BMW.
I liked it, even if it didn’t like being toyed with unnecessarily – you needed to be either on or off the throttle. After another eight laps I’d learned this message well and truly, maybe even feeling a little too confident for my own good. Woodcote is a fast corner; it’s fourth gear on a superbike. You build speed into it until you’re holding the throttle pinned, hanging your body off to the inside of your bike, fighting with all your might to stop the thing from bucking like a pissed off bull, while burying all thoughts of vulnerability to the deepest, darkest storeroom your brain has to offer. On a street bike you prepare for slides. On a 215bhp superbike with a shagged Pirelli SC0, you prepare for the mother of all highsides.
But you still do it. The rear feels as though it’s on ice, the revs rise unpredictably, the exhaust note peaks and troughs as traction’s lost and found. The front’s fighting hard too, desperate to take the abuse fired its way on the chin, but on a mileaged BSB-spec slick in hot temperatures and with an unseasoned jockey at the controls, it doesn’t really have much of a chance. The bike crabs, your heart’s in your mouth, your adrenaline’s bouncing off the limiter. This is living, but like kicking a cage fighter and pulling on their ears, such antics can only end with a trip to A&E. Or mine would have done had Hawk’s crew chief not have hung off the pitlane wall, flapping like a flustered pheasant. For me that meant game over, but what a game it’d been. And more to the point, what a cracking bike.