A modern classic?
It might be 20 years old, but the ’98 R1 doesn’t look like a classic bike, just yet. It doesn’t have the aggressive modern poise, and from some angles it does look lardy but it’s by no means a fat minger. It certainly wouldn’t look out of place parked up next to a bunch of much newer sportsbikes at a trackday or bikers’ café.
When I climbed aboard the R1, it still seemed lardy, but this wasn’t a bad thing. Its soft, wide seat, which is 40mm lower than the modern bike’s, was not only a favourite with my arse cheeks, but gave a feeling of sitting in, rather than on the bike. A less sport-riding position, true, but a more comfortable one.
In the comfort stakes, a slightly higher screen wouldn’t have gone amiss. Before you even get going, it’s quite clear that the minuscule excuse for a windscreen isn’t going to do much to deflect the onslaught of air that is inevitably going to come your way.
A further scan around the cockpit reveals plenty of tell-tale signs that the old girl is no spring chicken. The manual choke lever on the left hand switch gear, the spindly little ignition key and the clock-dial rev counter all show the R1’s age.
With a bit of choke and a touch of throttle, the R1 fired into life. The needle spun round to 7,000rpm (just the needle, the engine remained ticking over) and stayed there for a second or two, before returning to the tick-over zone. This showed me there was a problem with the EXUP exhaust valve, but I’d been reliably informed that a few taps with a screwdriver would free the job up, which it seemed to do, as the needle stopped waving at me and the engine revved cleanly. The fuelling from the R1’s carbs was clean for the most part, but a sharp twist of the throttle when things weren’t fully up to temperature could sometimes result in a bit of a bog before a symphony of muted revs through that whopper of an end can. The ’98 model did seem slow to rev, too, compared to the ’18 bike, but when it did rev, it was an inline four scream, rather than a modern big-bang thump.
I was like a dog with two… erm bones, when I got on the original R1. The first thing you notice, when you open up the taps is the lack of power. After jumping off the modern bike, the original R1 feels almost as though there is something wrong with it. The motor feels wheezy and asthmatic in comparison. Even through the giant silencer, the bike sounds as though it should be pulling harder than it is – but that’s only in comparison with the 20 year younger, faster, more advanced machine. It’s not a slow bike, far from it; you can easily be doing a ton plus, way before you know it, but to get the most from the engine you have to really make it sing and keep it in a narrow power-band from about 8,500rpm to 10,000rpm.
I soon got used to this bhp deficiency, just as I got used to the quickshifter and blipper deficiency. We’ve probably been spoilt by modern tech systems, especially, I’d suggest, with up and down shift shifters (which can be found on new R1s). So when I say I got used to the dipping the throttle and pulling the clutch in to change up and down through the gearbox, I did so begrudgingly.
You soon realise that on the old R1 nothing is done for you. And that gave it a charm that many modern bikes can only dream of. You could ride the R1 hard, but you had to be precise, yet firm with it. Dropping out of the revs meant dropping right out of the power so it was mega important to be in the right gear when accelerating. Being in the right gear when braking was even more so; with no slipper clutch, too many downshifts in one hit would lock the back wheel and send it skipping and bouncing out of line. But it all added to the fun. Precision has never been my strong point, but you needed it in bucket loads to get the most out of the old girl.
The more I rode the ’98 R1 the more I loved it. I felt so much more involved in riding it than I did on the modern bike. And the faster we went, the more interesting things became. Under hard acceleration, the front felt skittish and vague and on a number of occasions bumps in the road sent the bars into a tank-slapper inducing shake. It was a little bit scary, if the truth’s known, but it’s nothing that a steering damper wouldn’t fix.
On the road, the old R1 charmed the socks off me but to see how it really handled, I took it to Silverstone to stretch its legs and twist its melons, man. Circuit specialist Silverstone is a great place to test a bike. There’s fast stuff, slow stuff, tight stuff and wide open stuff to get your teeth into so it was the perfect place to see just what the superhero superbike of yesteryear could offer.
Like on the road, the old R1 does seem a little lethargic compared to its modern counterpart, especially down the long, wide straights on Silverstone’s Arena GP circuit. But that was to be expected. What is a slight pain on the track was the low screen which didn’t create much of a void to hide your head in; I found myself looking over the top of the screen rather than through it which I don’t suppose did my lap times any good.
Again, a quickshifter would have been nice on track but I managed. The main thing I struggled with was the shifter itself. It has rubber underneath to grip your boot on upshifts, but I think it must have been a little worn out after 20 years, as my boot slipped off the side of the shifter sometimes when trying to get the upshift. The gearbox itself didn’t seem bad though.
Aside from the engine, the ’98 R1 held its own remarkably well at Silverstone. I had been reasonably impressed with the brakes on our road test, but had expected a track outing to find them wanting. It did not. Okay, Silverstone isn’t mega hard on the brakes and there is ample time for things to cool down between big handfuls of anchor, but big handfuls of anchor I was giving it and there were never any signs of fade.
Despite it actually being lighter than the ’18 R1, it did feel bit heavier to turn and to change direction. The soft setup made you feel as though you had to take up all the slack in the suspension before the bike would do any real turning. And as comfortable as the low seat was, it didn’t make turning the bike any easier. It would turn but with nothing like the same razor sharp reactions as the modern bike. It also has a slight tendency to want to lift up and run wide when opening the throttle mid-corner.
A slight niggle with the ’98 bike, which I feel I have to mention, was the foot-pegs. Probably down to it being 20 years old but the springs that hold the pegs down seemed floppy, so I’d quite often inadvertently kick the pegs back while trying to shift my body position ahead of corners. It wasn’t a show stopper, but it did prove to be a bit annoying.
I was lucky enough to do a session or two following bike racing legend Niall Mackenzie while at Silverstone. I’m not going to pretend to be half the rider that Mr Mackenzie is, but seeing what he could do on the original R1 gave me even more confidence to push it that little bit harder, and the more I pushed it, the more I loved riding it.
Conclusion
I know they say you should never meet your heroes, but who ever said that has probably never ridden an original R1. When I told my old man how excited I was to be doing a test on a 1998 model, he thought I’d end up being utterly disappointed. But I wasn’t. It did something to me that modern bikes can’t. It’s a totally raw sportsbike; you can tell there has been little thought into making an easy bike to ride, or indeed a safe bike to ride. It’s all on you, the rider. And I love that. Anyone who likes riding sportsbikes will love riding a bike like this, because it’s from a time when you really had to ride them.
I’ve never been one for classic motorcycles, I’ve always thought they were ugly and, well, just a bit crap. I know, the ’98 R1 isn’t really a classic bike (yet), but it has taught me something about classic bikes, or rather why they are so popular – it’s given me an appreciation for the nostalgia that surrounds bikes like this.
And I can honestly say that despite it not having any of the mod-cons, I had as much fun riding this bike as I have ever had riding any other bike on the road. It might not have 200bhp but it could still wheelie its way into three figure speeds and stoppies, skids and knee down antics were easily achieved. In fact stoppies and skids are more achievable on the old bike then they are on the ABS infected ’18 R1.
Not everything is easier on the old bike though, it does require a bit more effort to ride fast, and a lot more precision. But easy isn’t exciting, is it? Sportsbikes aren’t supposed to be easy, they are supposed to be exciting, and that’s definitely what the old Yam is.
The whole experience was incredible. I’ll never forget the day I spent riding such a legendary bike, round such a legendary circuit, with such a legendary motorcycle racer (who was running rings around me). I was absolutely desperate to own a Yamaha YZF-R1 as a kid, back in 1998, and now I’ve actually ridden one I’m just as desperate to own one as an adult too. The problem is I’m quickly running out of space in my living room. Does anyone want a sofa… free to a good home?