Yamaha V-Max
The big, bad V-Max that made being slightly on the edge of control simply a part of life
‘The V-Max was initially sold only in the United 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’
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 twowheeled American 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 high-octane performance was real. The V4 engine was based on a liquid-cooled, 72-degree unit that had been designed for the Venture Royale tourer, but this made only 90 hp 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 conrods. 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 35twitched 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 had 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 1,198-cc V4 engine, and marginal chassis put it in a different league from every other bike on the road upon its release in 1985.
Back then, it seemed unfair that the V-Max was initially sold only in the United States (at least officially), but then again it was the most American of Japanese bikes. It had 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 main road, 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 fueltank. 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 is a fair bet that you will 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
mm downdraft Mikunis instead of one.
The result was a healthy maximum output of 145 hp at 8,000 rpm, with a significant step when the V-boost kicked in at 6,000 rpm. 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 markets too, albeit in restricted form, in many cases limited to 100 hp by removal of the V-Boost. Yamaha did later sell the full-power model in other markets, but not before many bikes had been unofficially imported from North America.
Fortunately, there was no such handicap with the test bike, which dated from 1987 and was a Canadian-market model, standard apart from a flyscreen and after-market stainless steel silencers. After I had 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 (254 kg 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 was fruity without being particularly loud.
That is 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 6,000 rpm, 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 225 km/h. Back in 1985, that was more than fast enough, especially given that the US was still stuck with the 88-km/h (55-mph) 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 did not prevent them from enjoying the bike’s potential and the
THE V-MAX WAS DEVELOPED IN and for the States but the man who did most to create it was Japanese. In the early 1980s, Akira Araki, who later became general manager of Yamaha’s motorcycle operation in Japan, was the leader of a development team that had been put together to create a new and powerful model for the US market. This was the period when Yamaha were making a huge effort to catch up with Honda, at the time hugely into V4 engines with their VF range.
Dragsters and V8-powered hotrod cars were part of Araki’s inspiration, but on a trip to study the US market, it was a visit to an unofficial dash across the Mississippi river that did most to mould the V-Max. The “bridge race” made a big impression on Araki. ‘Each time two bikes lined up. The rules were simple: they started from one side of the bridge and the finish-line was the opposite side,’ he recalled. ‘The idea I had from this race was to make a bike that was strong in a straight line and really fast. It was the birth of the V-Max concept.’
Araki took his idea of a V4-powered dragster to GK Design, an external Yamaha design office based in Santa Monica, California. There he spent almost a month developing his ideas, in collaboration with engineer Yasushi Ashihara, designer Makoto Kurachi, and a Yamaha US product planner named Ed Burke. Leading British custom builder, John Reed, nicknamed “Uncle Bunt”, was by this time based in Los Angeles and was employed as a design consultant.
Much work was needed to develop the V4 motor, borrowed from the Venture Royale. Eventually, conventional tuning plus the novel addition of V-Boost lifted peak output from 90 hp to an impressive 145 hp, while retaining plenty of low-rev performance. But as the engine came together, the styling of the new bike was causing debate among the small development team.
‘Components didn’t fit together in the right place,’ recalled Araki. ‘The engine was kind of fighting for space. The designer wanted to place the tank low. We knew it was necessary to show the powerful impression of the engine.’ Eventually, the team completed a full-scale drawing and were enthused by the radical concept machine as they flew back to Japan to present it to Yamaha. The verdict was disappointing.
‘We received almost no reaction inside the company,’ Araki said. ‘I thought it was because the style was too eccentric for people at that time and nobody knew how to react.’ Even so, the bike was cleared for production and, in October 1984, it was presented to US Yamaha dealers at a convention in Las Vegas, where it got a hugely positive reception. The dealers’ excitement was matched by strong sales when the bike went on sale the following year. Yamaha had an unexpected hit on their hands.
That feeling of being slightly on the edge of control is simply part of life when you ride an early V-Max
performance, and lack of fairing, it is not surprising that high-speed wobbles were a distinct possibility. Especially given that the chassis comprised a conventional tubular steel frame, skinny 40-mm 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 wellpreserved 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 did not have much of even when new is stopping mean image that its heavy horsepower conveyed.
And 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 could not prevent it from being put in its place in that respect by Suzuki’s GSX-R1100, which used its near 70-kg weight advantage to post a 0.6-second quicker standing-quarter-mile time when I tested them one after the other in 1987. But in a top-gear roll-on from 80 km/h, the V-Max stormed through the lights almost three-tenths quicker than the GSX-R.
The Yamaha’s speed and weight meant that you could quickly get yourself in trouble if you were not careful, but its handling was not as bad as some reports indicated. Given the bike’s size, weight, 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 43-mm forks, bigger discs and four-piston front brake calipers. By this time, the bike had become a cult vehicle in many major markets worldwide 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, black wheel rims, yellow indicator bulbs inside clear plastic lenses, a serial-numbered registration plate… and that is 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.