“Mate. You were leaving black lines out of Turn 5. On the warm-up lap.”

Suzuki’s new GSX-R1000 is like that. Ultra-fast, ultra-strong and ultra-controllable and pretty much ne plus ultra or, putting it another way – and to quote Kevin Ash, an eminent British motorcycle journalist – “F**k, f**k, f**k, f**k!…”

Some bikes just render you speechless.

Following three years of absolute domination in local Superbike racing – in fact Suzuki’s GSX-R1000 has won all of the Australian Production Superbike titles since the class began – 2004 marked the biggest challenge to King Missile.

The almost simultaneous release of a bigger and better Fireblade, the new R1 and of course Kawasaki’s long-awaited ZX-10R. Suddenly, even according to Suzuki, the GSX-R was looking tired.

Enter the K5. Drum rolls are superfluous, because the bike just looks so right, even without the fanfare. It’s still obviously a GSX-R, but there’s never been one like it before. In the flesh, it’s tiny, 600-sized to the point where you wonder how a rider’s going to fit. Then you see the details like the faired-in indicators front and rear, the radial master cylinder, the stingray tailpiece, the pipe…

Ah yes, the pipe. We all wanted to hate it when all we had seen were the pictures, but we began to mellow when we saw it on the bike and in the round — or elliptical, if you want to get technical — and we were all convinced when we got to turn the key.

Snatching third just as you crest Eastern Creek’s hump out of Turn 12 and getting those tell-tale you-got-it-right flaps of the ‘bars as the front wheel settles back down and you are scrabbling to catch fourth and then fifth as you watch the speedo numbers blur upwards and the braking markers get closer and closer and you know you’re not quite going to grab sixth but who cares anyway as what you are really wondering is whether or not you have the balls simply to bang it down into fourth and hang on or if you have to dab the brakes just a touch and then it’s too late and you’re into Turn One faster than ever before but it doesn’t matter because you’re through and hard on the gas to Turn Two when you really do have to brake …

Round Eastern Creek, the new Thou was a thrill-a-minute roller-coaster ride that just got better and better and faster and faster as the two-day test wore on. When you’ve got more power than a Hayabusa and about the same weight as a 600 to play with, discretion is called for at first, though it was quickly dispatched again after that first session. The new GSX-R has such an even power curve, that even using the word curve is a misnomer. Power line would be better. The power at the rear tyre is measured at the throttle, not by any dips, spikes or bulges. The power simply is. More power? More throttle. Less power? Less throttle. More speed? Less speed? Totally under the control of your right hand.

Most importantly, though the speeds were sometimes intimidating, the power never was.

Making the most of the power delivery is one of the sweetest shifting gearboxes Suzuki has made. And that’s saying something. Snick, snick, snick as you’re climbing the ladder and, thanks to the brilliant slipper clutch, it’s the same on the way down. Out of the Turn Nine hairpin and on the gas, you change up into third for the fast knee-on-the-deck right-hand Turn 10 before you have to pick it up, brake and change down in a split-second for the tight, left-hand Turn 11. It’s a busy corner, but not on the K5, where you brake as you pick it up, stab down a gear and let the slipper clutch take care of the usual rear wheel hop or compression lock, and tip it in. One less thing to worry about there equals better entry speed and a better exit from 12 and more down the chute. Why doesn’t every bike have one?

Odd that the gearshift is so good on the GSX-R when at Eastern Creek we almost didn’t need it. Three-times Australian Superbike champ Shawn Giles, who has probably done more miles than anyone else, certainly in Australia, on the bike at the Creek holds second from Turn Two through to Turn Nine. I started off holding third and the bike’s massive reserves of torque made that easy. I wound up using a mix of second and third in the end. I tried second but, having those sorts of rpm figures for that long made me a little nervous. But that’s why Shawn’s a Superbike champ and I’m writing this.

Either way my lap times didn’t seem to vary that much, and l even did a lap in top to see what would happen. The bike just burbled away from about 3000rpm and kept on accelerating. Big torque is a good thing.

To be honest, all the litre-class bikes produce power and on the road, away from the presskits, the difference between your new K5 GSX-R and your mate’s R1, Blade or ZX-10 is more likely to be down to which one of you weighs more.

The claimed power figure for the new GSX-R – 133.7kW, or 178 horsepower in the old language – is certainly impressive. It is, after all, 3.7kW up on a Hayabusa and all in a 166kg package. But power is not everything (and no, it’s not the only thing). The life, the universe and everything question is how the power is dealt with.

GSX-R1000 is the answer. It came to me mid-corner in Turn Nine. After you go in on a closed throttle and hard on the brakes, the transition off the brakes and onto the gas is the make or break part of the turn. If the power comes on too hard or too late, it can unsettle the bike and mess up your drive out. That was a major drama with the MV Agusta SPR, where I found I couldn’t get the throttle opened smoothly when I really needed to and the same effect, to a lesser degree, showed up on the R1 I rode at the Creek.

With the Suzuki, however, the transition from on the brakes to on the gas was smooth as baby’s bottom. It may sound like a small thing, but that was one of the stand-out features of the new bike for me – how easily it did stuff like that.

With any new Superbike, you know that they will have more power and less weight, etc, etc, so it is often the smaller details that stick in your mind. The narrowness of the footpegs, for instance. While 17mm is not a lot, reducing the peg to peg width put the pegs in the perfect position for my size 11s. Steering the bike was easier, shifting my weight was easier, getting my knee and boot down was easier.

Combine that ease of use with the overall reduction in size and the concentration of mass near the centre of the bike and you have a much sharper scalpel. Precise isn’t the word. The thing steers.

Despite the claimed reduction in unsprung weight from the 100g lighter front wheel, l was expecting the steering to be the same as the K4 bike’s, given the 10mm increase in disc rotor diameter would have met, and probably raised the front wheel’s 100g in the unsprung weight and rotational inertia stakes. So I put the theory to Shawn Giles, who had ridden the K4 and K5 back-to-back in pre-testing a few weeks before the launch.

“I didn’t really feel it,” he said. “I know what you’re getting at, but remember they’ve changed the geometry too.”

Ah, yes, the geometry. It works. But back to Shawn … “It just steers really good. Much better. I don’t think I’ll have to ask Phil [Tainton] to make up a set of ‘bars for it.”

Regular readers will remember my riding Shawn’s title-winning GSX-R in 2002, complete with the extended clip-ons each side to help him wrestle the bike into corners.

Steering without the Giles specials? Nuff said.

So, it steers quickly. What about stability? Eastern Creek’s Turn One is one of the fastest corners in the world’s racetracks and the GSX-R had me going faster — and more comfortably — through there than I had before. Hitting an indicated 260 before knocking it back to fourth and peeling in — without braking — confident in the knowledge that the bumps were going to be dispatched as easily as the corner itself was a buzz.

And I guess that’s the whole thing about the GSX-R. It may have a gob-smacking 133.7kW of power and 117.7Nm of torque, wrapped up in a tiny 166kg package, but it is just so easy to ride fast, so confidence-inspiring, so neutral that it’s really hard to imagine this pussycat turning around to bite. Until you check that speedo and then, it’s Kevin Ash all over again.

“F**k, f**k, f**k, f**k! … “

Suzuki’s GSX-R1000 K5. More power, less weight, better handling? If this is the future of sportsbikes, then count me in!

By Jeremy Bowdler. Two Wheels, April 2005

We won’t even try to keep up any semblance of suspense in this comparison because the GSX-R1000 K5 wins so comprehensively that you’d figure out the result long before you reached the end of the yarn.

The new Suzuki is an assassin intent on wiping out the entire superbike class so a new and dynamic order can take over. Its coup d’etat is complete and if the others want back in they’d better re-group, re-arm and get back here real quick before the Suzuki takes too much ground.

Sorry if we’ve ruined the tension, but don’t be disappointed because you’ll be surprised at what a leap forward the Hamamatsu machine is. You’ll be thrilled by how versatile, user­friendly, competent and fast it is. It does things you wouldn’t credit in this performance-addicted superbike class and shows that so many hard-core compromises we’ve been putting up with were unnecessary.

It’s a fitting way for Suzuki to celebrate 25 years of GSX-Rs. The original 1985 750 redefined sportsbikes and the new 1000 steps things up to another level in what is roadriding’s flagship class.

Ah, but the GSX-R1000 doesn’t immediately make the rest obsolete. We might know it’ll push through to victory, but there’s still a battle to be fought here and a lot of points to prove.

The Yamaha R1, which won last year’s track-­based shootout, is a thoroughbred machine with tonnes of class. The Honda FireBlade was a magnificent achiever last year, too, with sexy handling, and it’s defending the Australian Superbike crown this year, which is always a good reason to brag.

Kawasaki’s ZX-10R is Mr Excitement, out to prove that attitude is an active ingredient in any superbike experience.

And there’s the sultry MV Agusta, freshly arrived as a 1000cc contender and going straight to the top of the power charts.

None of them is holding out a white flag against the Suzuki’s assault… 

How much power do you want? How much power can you handle? These five bikes punch out 125-135kW through small patches of straining rubber and you can watch any of them leave a long black trail smeared on the tar when you’re chasing them out of corners, even on the road.

There’s not much between them, either, but you’ll pick the differences in certain situations, be it pulling out to overtake in top or absolutely hammering them through the gears.

The MV has more power, more torque and better acceleration than all the Japanese bikes. ln fact, just as we were finishing this write­up, and after it was too late to re-visit Dyno Dave, we discovered the throttle position sensor (TPS) was mis-aligned. Fixing it brought a little more performance again, which unfortunately isn’t reflected in our charts, where the MV is quoted at 124kW. Knockers who reckon this is a cafe-chic poser can go choke on instant coffee because not even the new Suzuki matches the gorgeous Italian’s grunt.

MV has given its 1000 the lowest gearing of the group, too, which only puts it further in front in any sprint. The F4 wins every roll-on and will edge away through the gears at full throttle as you fly down the straight on a ride day.

But the Suzuki is never far behind and an MV pilot has to work hard to make meaningful ground on the GSX-R. The F4’s slightly heavy throttle (not a patch on the awful muscle-man twistgrip of the 750cc F4) is the opposite of the GSX-R’s feather-light action, and the MV suffers hand-hurting vibration that is worst at higher revs; even at the track you sometimes curse it.

The Suzuki has no buts about its power delivery. It comes in a robust surge right through the rev range, with a dominant bottom end and awesome throttle response. Give it the merest whiff of throttle from 8000rpm and the Suzi springs forward like a cattledog after a break-away bull. It loves to rev higher and all of its power is accessible thanks to excellent fuelling.

And it sounds awesome. Intake noise fills your world when you’re on the gas and its scream turns heads on the roadside, too. Everything else is quieter.

The R1 is deceptive and its dyno chart doesn’t reflect how it feels on the road, where you spend most time riding in the midrange. Its gearing saves it, so that what appears to be a lazy power curve on the dyno chart (which compares the bikes rev for rev) is actually comparable to the Suzuki on the road. Where power and torque take an unfortunate dive through 7000rpm, the Yamaha feels flat, but as soon as it’s pulling through 8000rpm it’s going like a train, almost keeping the Suzuki honest.

With the tallest gearing and lowest peak power, the Honda struggles, but by much less than you’d think. It’s the most doughy when asked to haul through that midrange-to-top­ end transition, but isn’t easily shamed by any of the others. After a kilometre or so there’s only maybe 20 metres in it from the MV to CBR — enough perhaps to be meaningful to racers, but nothing a good rider can’t make up in the normal world.

“The CBR takes a very clinical approach to getting the job done and, for that, isn’t much of a char­acter. By that I mean it doesn’t do anything rash or exciting but, having said that, it is a great bike to ride. It doesn’t bring on any anxious moments while doing the job well. One problem with it was the rear suspension, which felt too low and soft, resulting in a very harsh ride on bumpy sections, sometimes affecting the cornering line chosen, while punishing the rider’s spine. Again, that could be easily tuned out with set-up which would benefit bumpy cornering.” Kevin Magee

Despite being just a poofteenth below the MV’s chart-topping power, the Kawasaki actually rates fourth on grunt, just in front of the Honda in roll-ons. You need to be way up in the top end with the throttle tapped to feel the force of the Big K’s missile. Its midrange doesn’t stand out and the engine doesn’t break free of its rivals until the last thrust to peak power. So the good peak figure doesn’t trans­late to a quicker burst of acceleration.

But the Kawasaki delivers wild action through its throttle, giving the impression of bucketfuls of untamed power for you to play with. There’s another factor that comes into play here. All the power in the world is useless if you don’t harness it. Handling’s crucial. And the ZX-10R doesn’t control its power as well as the others.

Before we move on to that, though, you’ll notice a couple of other little things as you spend time on the bikes. The Kawasaki’s fuelling is the most on-off in town, making it that bit more awkward to ride in traffic. The Suzuki has the vaguest clutch/throttle combination when you’re moving away from the lights and so you tend to rev it harder and slip the clutch longer. The MV’s fuelling was spot-on after adjusting the TPS, but its heavier throttle is a mild hindrance and the vibration affects feel at times. The Honda and Yamaha are sweet as.

The Ninja is a laugh at the track, a thrill­seeker’s best toy. And what’s a litre-bike if it’s not fun? The trouble is the Kawasaki has more pronounced pitch and lacks the more refined suspension control of the others. It doesn’t handle badly, as such, because you never feel on the edge of control and it doesn’t fight you. But it does give you one wild ride, hefting the front end into the air when you nail the gas, squirming as the rear tries to channel the power. Sometimes you’ve got to back off before the ZX-10R loops itself!

On the brakes it’s similar, wriggling in pro­test as the rear gets too light. Overall, it scares inexperienced riders but makes good riders grin like idiots — at least until the twitchy front end threatens to break into a full-on tankslapper if you push it past that ill-defined line between happy and crappy. This is the one to be careful with on a rough road.

The ultra-compact Suzuki could be as bad but it’s not. Not even close. With good suspension control and a steering damper, it is planted, and it benefits from excellent front-­to-rear balance. This thing is so small and agile it really does feel almost like a 600, yet it has great high-speed stability too. You can throw it into tight turns with far less respect than other superbikes demand, and tilt it into any long sweeper with full security — a remarkable achievement for any bike.

The GSX-R 1000 is great under brakes, gets into corners aggressively, hooks into the apex and accelerates out without any drama. The front end might get light as you do, but it doesn’t rear up or waggle around.

“The ZXl0 looks pretty radical, delivers the power by the same method, is great fun but less effective than the others. Kawasaki’s machine is a very exciting bike to ride, albeit skywards on acceleration and on its nose under hard braking, while getting a little taily in the rear. These inherent factors could be easily eliminated with some set-up work. What gets me is the tacho, you can’t read it at a glance, you have to look at it.” Kevin Magee

Usually you’d expect only a tightly-suspended sportsbike to do this, but the Suzuki has compliance that tourers dream of. It leaves the other bikes struggling miles behind on bumpy roads, which it’ll glide over at amazing speeds with nothing worse than a minor flick of the handlebars and the occasional bottomed rear end. It’s a revelatory experience and makes a lie of everything we’ve accepted about sportsbike ride quality.

The Yamaha is also a very competent package. It’s firmer than the Suzuki, but not quite as obedient in its damping down the back when you power out of corners; it’ll slide more readily, though progressively, and it works its rear tyre harder. Nor does the rear remain quite as settled under brakes, but the difference isn’t huge and is almost undetectable on the road.

Likewise, the Rl’s steering is a fraction less cooperative, although it is very accurate and nicely adjustable. The Honda will get into corners and through the apex more rapidly, but it needs a little muscle and isn’t quite as responsive to your inputs. The CBR’s front end is great under brakes, and the bike makes a clean transition into a bend with the anchors out. It flows rapidly through the corner and delivers its power strongly on the exit, allowing you to use all of its power, and potentially making up for its lesser outright acceleration by getting you onto the straight faster.

It has a serious flaw, though. The Fireblade is excessively harsh on the road. The bumps and holes of most country roads bring pain as you cop a pounding. Honda’s suspension tuners could learn a lot from the GSX-R1000. The good electronic steering damper deals with most threats of instability but, like the R1 with its regular damper, lets through the occasional brief flap of the ‘bars.

The MV is barely any gentler in the rough if it’s comfort you want but at least it is irrepressibly stable. Tankslappers are probably impossible on the F4, which is as unflappable as a hardwood plank. No matter what bumps you hit, the MV just bucks briefly and tracks like a train. The compromise is slower steering but if you commit to your line you can still pitch it quickly into tight corners.

Commitment is the word for the Agusta. If you promise to follow its front end everywhere, promise to spear it faster than you ever have into bends, the MV will take you there, leaving a jealous mob of hard-braking bikes behind it. Go in at the same speed as the Japanese bikes and it’ll mock you. You suddenly realise you haven’t gone nearly as fast as you could have. You can always trust the front end.

The MV demands a different riding style to get its best, and this makes it a love-hate bike. Some of us couldn’t come to terms with it; others loved it. It requires more precise setting up, too, and can be tuned to handle like a barge without much (misguided) effort. Think preload, particularly at the rear — winding it on a lot more than stock will bring balance and poise that are unique in the class.

If you’re one of the chosen ones, you’ll never experience cornering as fast and exciting as this. Feedback is exceptional, too, and this is ultimately the fastest bike around a racetrack in the right hands. And probably the slowest in the wrong ones.

“The MV is a stunning looking motorcycle and a stunning performing motorcycle that is worth every cent. There is incredible attention to detail and level of finish on this bike. The MV Agusta hasn’t hit the racetracks proper yet, only in the German Championship, when it does it will have a big impact. The handlebars are in a quite flat position, comfortable on the road, track and even around town. Shorter overall gearing and a close ratio gearbox make it a very easy and pleasur­able bike to ride around town. Delivery and the amount of power from the radial valve engine is sensational.” Kevin Magee

Its old-tech six-piston front brakes miss out on the bite of all the other brakes here and need stronger pressure to stop hard, but the braided steel brake lines ensure excellent consistency and good feel. All the Japanese machines are equipped with radial brakes and have superb stopping power, and it’s their chassis behaviour under brakes that separates them more than their brakes alone and, as we implied above, the Honda is good but the Suzuki is flattering.

Riding positions are as varied as colour schemes on these bikes. Again, the Suzuki is the popular choice. For its petite body, the GSX-R1000 has room to spare and even fits our largest rider, Ali, who’s 188cm and 107kg. It has relatively high handlebars that aren’t far from the seat, so you sit quite naturally with your arms in the right place for control. Some of us, though, would prefer the footpegs further back; they’re the most forward-set of the lot. The seat is reasonably well padded and bearable on longer rides, and the screen gives adequate wind protection at most speeds. We love the compliant ride.

“The GSX-R is an amazing performer in every respect but its looks. It’s a very exciting bike to ride, with its loud induction noise, pulsating at lower revs then turning into a howl in the higher rev ranges. It’s very balanced, and, most importantly, compliant on the road without suffering on the track. It feels the smallest of the bunch with a good relationship between the seat, handlebars and footpegs. However the looks department would have to be its weakest link.” Kevin Magee

The Kawasaki needs higher handlebars. They’re very low, which is uncomfortable on the road and, for a few of us, not easy on the track either because they’re still close to the seat and therefore don’t let you put leverage into them as easily. The tiny screen provides very little shelter from high-speed windblast, so you fatigue more quickly. The seat angle and sitting position make this bike the one that’ll crush your nuts most often; the other bikes rarely or never do it.

You’ll get better wind protection on the R1 but your neck works hard at high speeds unless you’re tucked as low as you can get. But the riding position is a great mix of acceptable comfort and excellent control. Most of us reckoned it was second to the Suzuki.

The Honda quells the breeze well, so you only have to crouch slightly up to 160km/h while it cuts a smooth hole in the atmosphere for your head. The ‘Blade has the longest reach to the handlebars of the Japanese bikes, enough to put noticeably more strain on your wrists during a day on the road.

But that’s where the MV is a bitch. Its lie-flat riding position makes perfect sense on a flying lap but is uncompromising at cruising speeds and awful when manoeuvring at low speeds. Its double-bubble screen is fantastic, so you can sit comfortably while tearing up the tar at 200km/h but…err… enough said. The seat’s a plank and the sculpted tank means big people just don’t fit. The ergonomics make U-turns awkward, too, with thumbs getting trapped against the tank, a limited steering lock and almost the need for a double-jointed neck.

Excessively stiff high-speed compression rates in the suspensions of the MV and Honda make them particularly uncomfortable. Both transfer road shocks into your kidneys, spine and neck.

“The Rl’s design, detail and refinement all stack up to make a great-looking and performing bike that does everything well except beat the Suzuki. Yamaha’s Rl is the great all-rounder, flowing integrated lines, with brilliant attention to detail, down to the fittings and fasteners. It does everything very well without any undue fuss or attention. All it needs is a little bit of suspension work to make it a fraction more compliant for the road, if anything.”  Kevin Magee

The Yamaha super-heats your legs, especially in traffic. Nice on a cold day, though. The MV is not much less sweaty. The CBR’s under-seat pipe is not well insulated and makes the pillion seat and tail section uncomfortably hot. Same as the MV, but there’s no pillion to complain. 

Not one of us sceptical buggers really believed what everyone else said as each climbed off the Suzuki and began raving about it. Surely it couldn’t be that good? Then, in turn, we’d get our chance on the blue-and-white missile and know without a shadow of doubt that this is the duck’s guts. The GSX-R1000 is a unanimous winner. By a mile.

It mightn’t have the most outright power but it has tons of it, all of it useful and all of it coming on instantly through a light throttle that’s so eager to please. There’s no jerkiness, no poor fuelling, no nothing except perfect performance whenever you call for it. Power comes smoothly and constantly through the rev range. And the chassis deals with it so calmly.

The Suzuki weighs several kilos less than its nearest rival and feels even lighter again, with a distinctly 600-esque physique and flickability. You think the others are nimble until you ride this one, and suddenly you realise the goalposts have moved. The lightness makes it that much easier to ride, too, and brings greater forgiveness of a poorly chosen line or a cocked-up corner entry.

The handling basics are all brilliant. The Suzuki is the most nimble in the group yet also very stable at any pace. It’s superb through a corner and out of it, and frantically fast going away. And amazingly plush on country roads, with an uncanny knack for scooting obscenely rapidly along surfaces that force the others to back off.

Add its excellent riding position — good for the road, good for the track — and you’ve got your clear winner.

Where does that leave the others? Way behind? Mostly, yes.

The Honda, Kawasaki and Yamaha form a close-knit group.

The Honda made itself very unpopular on the road ride thanks to its uncomfortable suspension. Most sportsbikes are hard; this one is harsh. We complained less about the MV. However, the Honda has many redeeming features, including excellent cornering speed and the ego-boosting ability to make up for its minor power deficiency with its good handling whenever the road or track was reasonably smooth.

The Kawasaki is maniacally fun and we had a hoot out on the track with it. On the road the novelty wasn’t quite as strong, but the edginess of its handling, throttle response, ride and riding position were more obvious. It’s a bit harder to ride well and not as precise as the others. Still, it’s very hard to knock it after it’s been such a party animal for you, and anyone who tastes its thrills is in danger of getting hooked on them.

The Yamaha is pure class. It could use a bit more control at the rear for track days but is superb out on the road, a self-assured athlete that loves going hard. It’s stable, comfortable, pretty nimble, well-balanced and, frankly, hard to fault. It appears to have the highest quality finish, exhibits the best refinement of all and looks sensational from the pointy tip of its nose to the sexily curvaceous twin tailpipes. About the only thing it doesn’t do is beat the Suzuki.

The MV Agusta stands aloof, as it should when it costs half as much again (and then some…) as the Japanese bikes. But if that’s your budget, don’t wimp out. GSX-R1000s will come and go but the MV is a long term lover, one that will still be fast and classy for a number of years.

Its power is dominant and accessible, albeit not as easily as the Suzuki’s. Its handling is in another league – when you set it up right. Nothing matches its acceleration, corner speeds, stability or assuredness.

Bring the comparison down to a purely sports-biased result and the MV would edge out the Suzuki.

The F4’s abundance of detail, thoughtful design and single-mindedness should be held up for all to admire. You can see where the money goes and know that you’re getting value. On the other hand, some people will find the MV unrefined because of its vibration and way too uncomfortable to consider owning. Fair enough.

The Suzuki brings no such concerns. It’s just brilliant, no question. It has thrown out the old order and installed itself as the dictator. It will take a revolution to topple it.

By Mick Matheson. Two Wheels, May 2005

Specifications