The rise and demise of Suzuki’s sportsbike legend – and the gradual end of sportsbikes as we know them
The ride home is a longer affair, going all the way through France to Calais this time, though with an overnight stop in Macon splitting the kilometres more evenly. One last time along the road from Le Castellet. A few hours on the autoroute to clear the southernmost part of France, where there’s little opportunity to take the scenic route and not go many miles in the wrong direction, then through rural France from Montélimar to Lyon, then 50 miles to our fancy yet reasonable old mansion B&B.
I’m a little concerned Alan might be in a dreadful state after a night sleeping on rocks with 30 bikes racing around 500m away, but miraculously he’s in good shape. “I feel fine riding today – Ifeel a bit more bike-fit now.” That’s often the way – as long as you don’t really overdo it, mind and body will dial into a big ride.
It’s about now I start thinking about the reason (losing my Bol d’Or virginity aside) for the trip. As the Slabbie snarls up the Autoroute du Soleil at 145km/h, soaking up the sun and slicing though occasional traffic jams before toll booths (where a bikes-only no-charge lane has been set up for riders leaving the race – they do it for other events like MotoGP too).
Why has the GSX-R, and the sportsbike in general, fallen from favour? Sure, it’s not the easiest way to get around on the road, but it’s manageable. Just as real discomfort sets in, it’s usually time to get off and pour fuel in. Ten minutes off the bike is enough to do another full-to-empty motorway stint. Only the 1985 machine’s flatslide carbs really grind you down over the hours – the heavy return springs don’t seem a big deal in the first instance, but you know you’ve been working against it after 500 miles. They’re
Mikuni VM29SS carbs, but really they should have been branded Mikuni RSIs, Alan remarks with a level of wit he wouldn’t have managed on the first day. He’s obviously in better shape now. And once you’ve got the big, dull mileage out of the way, there are no better tools for the brilliant roads you can reach. The ride across country on the outbound trip was stunning, and while you’d enjoy it on anything, nothing beats a lightweight sportsbike with the fine-feel and direct response each GSX-R has.
Even just giving it a handful out of a roundabout and letting it run to the top of a gear or two rather than short-shifting gives you moments of excitement it’d take hours to achieve on a softy tourer.
The 1000 has acquitted itself well: for all the online ‘experts’ telling you sportsbikes don’t work on the road, the GSX-R remains the sportsbike that still just about functions away from a circ
