1987 Yamaha FZR1000 vs Suzuki GSX-R1100
Geoff Seddon compares Yamaha’s new FZR1000 and the current Two Wheels Bike of the Year, the Suzuki GSX-R1100. Every other bike he’s ridden now seems a bit insignificant.
Virtually from the introduction of the Honda Four, Japanese engine technology has stayed a step or two ahead of frame and suspension technology. Some would argue that, for a while there, the gap between the two got a little out of hand, but who am I to criticise the handling of Mach III Kawasakis and J model Suzuki Waterbottles?
From time to time, motorcycling journalists would announce that the standard of motorcycle handling had taken another huge step. Flick through old issues of TWO WHEELS and witness the literary orgasms dedicated to Ducati’s 900 Darmah (TW, January 1979) and Suzuki’s GS1000 (TW, May 1978). Such bikes represented an improvement so great over their predecessors and contemporaries that everyone wondered at the time how any bike could ever handle better.
Well folks, the engineers have done it again. You’ve already heard us wax lyrical about our current Bike of the Year, the Suzuki GSX-R1100, the motorcycle with which we couldn’t find any substantial fault. For a while there, you could speak authoritatively about the best big-bore sportster around. At the Two Wheels office there was no argument, the mighty GSX-R was it!
Yet even before we’d published our unanimous choice for Bike of the Year, Michael Dowson was giving advance notice that the Suzuki flagship might have some competition this year. Dowson’s performance in cleaning up the Production-class support races to the ’86 Swann Series, and then having the audacity to mix it with the Grand Prix bikes, resulted in the FZR1000 Yamaha being one of the most eagerly anticipated new model releases for some time. The FZR attracted a huge interest whenever and wherever it was parked during the test period, and not just because of its lines.
The new Yamaha is a lot more than simply a bored and stroked FZ750 (75.0 x 56.0 mm, as against the 750’s 68.0 x 52.6 mm). The three intake valves have grown from 21.0 mm to 23.5 mm, the two exhaust valves from 23.0 mm to 25.0 mm and the valve angle has been narrowed. The four downdraught Mikunis are up from 34.0 to 37.0 mm as well.
Pistons, rings and conrods have been redesigned to be lighter than those in the 750, with Yamaha taking a leaf from Suzuki’s book in developing oil jets to cool the undersides of the pistons. An oil cooler sits below the radiator at the front of the bike.
Electronic ignition is digitally controlled and operated by a microprocessor located under the seat, and exhaust gases are extracted via an efficient but quiet four-into-one system. Like the 750, the engine is inclined forward at an angle of 45 degrees.
Air ducts in the fairing on each side of the headlight channel cool, dense air around, but not into, the airbox. Not a bad idea, though whether it warrants “Fresh Air Intake” stickers on the fairing is another thing. Most observers dubbed “F.A.I.” something of a wank on a bike largely devoid of gimmickry.
The sum total of this development is a 989 cm3 four-stroke punching out just shy of 100 kW (or 133 horsepower for the traditionalists) at 10,000 rpm, 3.6 kW more than that claimed by Suzuki for its 1100.
The Yamaha offers fairly strong bottom-end power, a useful if slightly disappointing mid-range, and an explosive top end. It’s very smooth outside of a band of vibration between 4000 rpm and 6000 rpm, and with its water jacket, very quiet also. Power builds brutally from 7000 rpm, by which time the exhaust emits a healthy snarl. Maximum torque of 101.9 Nm is delivered at 8500 rpm.
Gearing is shorter than that of the GSX-R1100, and Yamaha’s efforts to beef up the 750’s gearbox have resulted in a notchy feel at low speeds, and loud clunks if engine speed is not carefully matched to road speed. It’s impossible to avoid a noisy neutral-to-first gear change when stationary. To its credit, the five speed box performs superbly when the engine is really spinning, with nary a whiff of a false neutral.
If the engine and transmission represent an evolutionary approach to engineering, being largely based on the FZ750, the chassis and running gear are revolutionary, in roadbike terms. Yamaha has adapted its Grand Prix “Deltabox” frame for road use, and the result is a winner. Combined with the forward-inclined motor and low fuel-tank location (much of the dreaded unleaded is carried behind the engine, below seat height), the bike feels much lighter than even its 204 kg dry weight would suggest.
Massive aluminium box-sections run virtually in a straight line direct from steering head to swing-arm pivot. The frame looks massive but weighs in at 12.2 kilograms, and it simply does not twist or flex at all. Weight distribution of the bike is close to 50/50 front and rear. The rear sub-frame is bolted on, and the swingarm is the now mandatory box-section affair, controlled by Yamaha’s rising-rate “Monocross” single-shock suspension. The shock is adjustable for spring preload only, and a special tool is supplied for this purpose.
Primitive sophistication
Similarly, the 41 mm front forks are adjustable only for spring preload. Rigidity is assisted by an alloy fork brace.
Yamaha has abandoned anti-dive for its flagship sportster, though it wasn’t especially missed by this correspondent.
The front brakes certainly look trick, with the two 320 mm stainless steel discs dominating the 17-inch front wheel. Yamaha has adopted the dual twin piston design (popularised by the GSX-R Suzukis) for the floating calipers. The rear brake is a single, 267 mm disc with a conventional twin piston fixed caliper.
The bike is attractively packaged in the Yamaha corporate style. It is immediately recognisable as a Yamaha, though its capacity could fool the uninitiated – nowhere on the bike is there any indication of capacity.
Paint work is striking, though the “orange peel” on the tank didn’t sit well with the $10,500 price tag.
Suzuki’s GSX-R1100 will be well-known to TWO WHEELS readers. Like the FZR1000, the GSX-R1100 is a development of a pre-existing 750, though the two Suzukis are much more similar than the Yamahas. The GSX-R1100 develops 95.7 kW at 9500 rpm from its 1052 cm3 four cylinder, oil-cooled engine. It’s “only” a 16 valve, double-overhead cam engine, breathing through four 34 mm CV Mikuni carburettors, but reality is the bottom end of a Mack truck, the midrange of a V8, and the top end of an F1-11. Hot up kits and racing exhausts are available for the big GSX for those who want more power …
The welded, rectangular-section, double-cradle, alloy frame weighs in at 12.8 kg, looks the part and does the job. Like that of the FZR, it does not flex or twist – simple as that. The rear subframe is welded to the mainframe.
There’s a rising rate monoshock at the back, adjustable for spring preload (continuous thread) and rebound damping. Swingarm is, of course, rectangular-section and made of alloy. The six-spoke wheel wears a 150/70 VR-18 Dunlop K700 Sport Radial. Rear brake is a fixed twin piston caliper acting on a 220 mm disc.
Front forks are 41 mm in diameter and are adjustable for spring preload and antidive. An alloy fork brace is fitted. A pair of dual twin-piston fixed calipers operate on twin 310 mm discs to provide prodigious stopping power. The front tyre is a 110/80 VR 18 Dunlop K701F.
Lasting well
The GSX-R1100 was tested in detail our July 1986 issue. We’ve since acquired the same bike for long term evaluation, and at the time of this comparison it had in excess of 22,000 kilometres on the clock. It’s no secret that all at TWO WHEELS continue to admire the big Suzuki, which is holding up very well to the rigours of having had half a dozen different bods thrash around on it. The bike has enjoyed regular servicing by Suzuki Australia, new brake pads, a new drive chain and a few sets of tyres. It currently has the O.E. Dunlops fitted. The test FZR, by comparison, had only 1700 kilometres on the clock when I picked it up.
From the specifications, I has expected two similar bikes. The Yamaha has marginally more horsepower but is also seven kg heavier. After my first ride on the Yamaha, however, it was obvious I had two very different bikes to test.
The Suzuki initially overwhelms you with its “power everywhere” motor. The Suzuki’s tacho doesn’t have any numbers below 3000 rpm, an you can commute around the city without the needle moving off its stop. Bottom end grunt is phenomenal.
Mid-range power is a little less awesome, but still huge by any other standard. Top end is what you’d expect of a 96 kW engine. Maximum speed is 258 km/h.
The Yamaha’s power is more concentrated toward the redline. With shorter gearing than the GSX-R, it is still no match for the big Suzuki from off-idle revs. The slump in the mid-range is also more noticeable, and the progression to hold-on-tight power from around 7000 rpm is more sudden. At that point it goes berserk.
The exhaust shrieks and the power is truly exhilarating right through to the 11,000 rpm redline.
The Yamaha will pull 200 km/h in third and 230 in fourth. When I ran out of road it was pulling strongly up a hill at 240 km/h in fifth. Top speed? Close enough to the Suzuki not to matter.
Sydney to Melbourne in three and a half hours, anyone?
If you’re not that ambitious, you can still ride and enjoy the Yamaha sanely. It is a 1000 cm3 motorcycle after all!
However, the FZR likes to have its rider play with the gear lever. The Suzuki, on the other hand, requires less shifting on your local scratcher’s road, allowing you to concentrate on the next bend and not the tacho.
Paradoxically, the bike which requires the lesser amount of gear changing has the better gearbox. The Suzuki shifts silently, and the Yamaha noisily, though it is less noticeable at higher revs. The differing ages of the two test bikes could have been a factor here.
The FZR is nice and smooth outside of a rough band centred on 5000 rpm. As this corresponds with the slump in midrange power, it’s not a problem in a sporting environment but can be irksome on tour, intruding intermittently from around 110 km/h to 150 km/h in top gear. At other revs, you are largely unaware of the engine, apart from that typical Yamaha whine at low revs and a satisfying snarl from the exhaust up high.
The rider of the Suzuki is never under any illusions that he or she is riding anything other than a 16-valve, four-cylinder superbike. The engine is much noisier and is alive at all revs, though the vibration rarely becomes intrusive. It’s worst around 5500 rpm, and noticeable mostly when accelerating or decelerating.
The Suzuki is a bit aggravating to warm up on a cold morning, generally stalling a few times while donning helmet and gloves. The Yamaha, with a very handy choke lever mounted inside the fairing, is much more civilised. The Yamaha has minimal engine braking except at high revs, while the Suzuki provides strong engine braking at virtually all speeds. The Suzuki was also the more economical engine, with consumption varying from 13.4 km/l to 18.0 km/l, whereas the best the Yamaha gave was 15.8 km/l and the worst 12.3 km/l.
Like the powerplants, each bike’s handling was markedly different to the other. On the racetrack, the Yamaha is a magic bike, especially through tighter S-type bends. Similarly, the Yamaha is a much easier bike to punt quickly along tight familiar public roads – the ones that you know well and are littered with corners marked 45 km/h. Lines can be changed at will. The Suzuki, by comparison, requires more effort in these environments with its higher centre of gravity and much slower steering.
Tracker
Once on a line, however, the Suzuki will stick to it no matter what obstacles are placed in its path. It likes a predetermined line through a corner and is virtually unshakeable through the quicker sweepers. Some would label the Suzuki with understeer, while others (ex-Ducati riders, probably) would call it super-precise. It depends on what you’re used to.
It is in chassis geometry that the bikes differ most. The FZR has the longer wheelbase (1470 mm as against 1460 mm), but has much steeper forks with 24.7 degrees of rake compared with the Suzuki’s 26.7 degrees, and 96 mm of trail compared with the Suzuki’s 116 mm. And of course, the Yamaha has a 17-inch front wheel (Suzuki: 18-inch) and much wider tyres.
“Seat of the pants” impressions would have you thinking that the Suzuki is quite a bit heavier than the Yamaha. If the Suzuki feels like a very light 1100 (which it does), the Yamaha feels like a much smaller bike in comparison. With the absence of badges or stickers denoting capacity, it would not be difficult to convince the unaware that the Yamaha is a light, tight (and enormously quick) 750.
Cornering clearance is superb on both bikes, the Yamaha marginally less so only because of stubs protruding from below the rider’s foot rests. These would scrape from time to time, but did not affect stability at all. I got the Suzuki’s left foot rest to scrape on the racetrack, but it remained unsullied on the open road.
Both bikes are very stable at high speed, especially the Suzuki. Both handled bumps well at high speed, though the FZR was a little less comfortable over rough roads at sub-100 km/h speeds. As speed increases over this mark, the Yamaha’s suspension progressively improves. Suspension feel was quite different on the two bikes, the Suzuki feeling more compliant.
The Suzuki comes complete with a steering damper. The Yamaha does not. As a recent convert to the value of steering dampers after testing the Ducati F1 750 (TW, July 1986), I was a bit apprehensive about punting the FZR at high speeds over some of NSW’s secondary roads. On two occasions, largish bumps mid-corner got the FZR’s bars shaking, but it recovered quickly.
Yamaha has chosen to forgo on the FZR a lot of the fancy suspension technology we’ve come to expect (anti-dive, damping adjustment, air adjustment), and would appear to have faith in the FZR’s front end to the extent that a damper is regarded as unnecessary.
As it turned out, this reviewer has no particular beef with Yamaha for not providing one as standard (they were big bumps), but I don’t think it would be a bad idea to fit one either. Perhaps as an option, if mostly for peace of mind.
Front brake performance, not unexpectedly given their similarity of design, was much the same on both bikes – in a word, brilliant. The rear brakes were a different story. The FZR’s had lots of power but not a lot of feel (a bit like a Brembo), while the GSX’s had feel but lacked power. This contradicts our earlier test of the GSX-R, so it appears the Suzuki’s rear brake was not operating to its full potential.
Demon brakers will enjoy that fat 120/70 Pirelli on the front of the Yamaha, though they would be less impressed with the behaviour of the rear brake that showed signs of cooking after hard use.
Shortarses only
Pillion comfort on both bikes is severely compromised by the very high location of the passenger foot rests. Admittedly, the trouble and strife, at around five feet eight inches, is taller than many pillions, but all but the tiniest backwarmer will get an ache in the legs from the severe knee angle dictated by the pillion pegs. That said, the Suzuki was clearly the better bike for carrying a pillion, at least as it affected the bike’s general handling.
Stability was little affected by a pillion, whereas the Yamaha was a different bike. One of the major factors in the FZR’s superb solo manners is its very low centre of gravity. Whack a pillion on the high rear seat and the bike no longer has a low centre of gravity, and it starts to behave more like you would expect of a bike with very steep forks and a small, fat front tyre.
Seat comfort was average ( though the pillion tends to slide forward more on the Yamaha), and vibration was more noticeable through the pillion pegs than the rider’s pegs, especially the right side pegs which on both bikes support the mufflers. A grab-rail was missed on the Yamaha, especially given its more sensitive throttle response.
Rider comfort is not on a par with less sporting-oriented bikes, as expected, but trips up to 800 km in one day can be survived. The shoulders take a beating on both bikes, and the wrists (more so on the Yamaha) also. I preferred the Suzuki’s riding position (more “in” the bike) and its seat, though a rider of different build might prefer the Yamaha. There ain’t much room to attach more than throwover saddle bags or a tank bag.
In the ancillary areas, the Yamaha is generally the more civilised bike. The steering lock is in the ignition, blinkers are self-cancelling, the reserve tap is easily accessible, and it’s the better city bike. The Suzuki has the better headlights (though both are very good) and the Yamaha the better tool kit.
Both bikes come only with stumpy sidestands, and the rear-view mirrors are poor (the Yamaha’s are convex). The horn on the Yamaha must have been borrowed from a moped, while the Suzuki’s horn wouldn’t sound at all at idle with the headlight on. It wasn’t much better with the headlight off, for that matter.
Fairings on both bikes are very good, given their intended function. With a bit of speed up, both provide reasonable weather protection to the rider, with shoulders being the most exposed part. Original equipment tyres were also above average, particularly the new MP7S radials fitted to the FZR which stuck like glue.
Which one?
And now for the $20,800 question. Both are out of the financial reach of most of us ($10,500 for the FZR, $10,300 for the GSX-R) and each is quite different to the other in several important areas.
The Yamaha is easily the more civilised, while the Suzuki is built more like a racer, yet the Yamaha is the better bike on the track, and the Suzuki is this reviewer’s preference as a tourer. What is most alike about them is that they both go like stink and handle like no other big bikes around. They look terrific, too. And as Ford Falcons approach the $20,000 mark, both represent solid value for the person who wants performance per dollar.
At the end of the test period, I thought I’d go for one last blast up the old Pacific Highway north of Sydney. It’s a stretch of 30 odd kilometres of 35 km/h to 65 km/h (signposted) corners, reasonably smooth, and marred only by a strong police presence on weekends.
I walked past the Suzuki and fired up the FZR. Out on the road, the Yamaha was truly “pure sports”, playing the gears, howling through the sweepers, the snarl bouncing off the cliffs. Snaking through the esses, left boot down, right boot down, left boot down and then hitting the straight with the tacho on 7000 rpm. It was the perfect end to a fantastic test.
Given the choice of owning one of the bikes, however, I’d probably go for the GSX-R. Motorcycling is more than manic runs up the old highway – more’s the pity. I fit the GSX-R, I like its looks, I like its slow steering, and I love the way it handles.
But most of all, I love the way it goes. That GSX-R1100 motor is truly awesome. The Yamaha has more horsepower, but the Suzuki has more grunt. There will come a time when we will no longer be allowed to buy bikes like these. Before that time comes, I hope I’ve got a GSX-R1100 in my garage. If you’re rich, buy both.
By Geoff Seddon, Two Wheels, July 1987
Guido from AllMoto owns a 1987 FZR1000 that, brave man, he’s tackled as a resto project. Read about it here. And he’s also done a comprehensive buyers guide to the highly collectable early GSX-R1100s, so if you’ve got a hankering for one of Japan’s all-time classic sportsbikes, whet your appetite here.
