Three numbers said it all about
the YZF-R1 with which Yamaha stunned the superbike world in 1998. The
four-cylinder charger produced 150bhp, weighed just 3891b (176kg) and had an
ultra-short wheelbase of 55in (1395mm). That made it the most powerful,
lightest and most compact large-capacity sports bike ever built. And with
its aggressive styling, the R1 had the looks to match.
Beneath the sharp twin-headlamp
fairing, the R1 incorporated some clever engineering. Its basic layout was
Yamaha's familiar blend of 20-valve, four-cylinder engine and aluminium
twin-beam frame. But the R1 design team, led by Kunihiko Miwa, put the
six-speed gearbox higher than normal behind the liquid-cooled cylinders,
making the 998cc engine very compact. This in turn allowed the bike to be
very short while having a long rear swingarm, as used by grand prix bikes
for added stability.
Innovative crankcase design
The R1's new engine also
contributed with its innovative one-piece cylinder and crankcase assembly,
which was stiffer than the conventional design and allowed the powerplant to
be used as a stressed member of the chassis. This meant that the R1's
Deltabox II frame needed to be less strong, which helped explain how the
bike could weigh less than most 600cc sportsters.
The R1 engine was a spectacular
performer in its own right, never mind its contribution to the handling.
The
bike felt light, racy and purposeful, with low, narrow handlebars, high
footpegs, a firm seat and the smallest of windscreens. And such was the
motor's gloriously broad spread of power that the moment its throttle was
wound open, the R1 hurtled forward as though fired from a canon.
It was not so much the fearsome
acceleration when revved towards its 11,750rpm limit that made the Yamaha so
special, nor even its 170mph (274km/h) top speed. Where the R1 engine really
scored was in its flexibility, which ensured that smooth, addictively strong
acceleration was always available, making it a supremely easy bike to ride
very rapidly indeed.
And the R1's handling was equally
impressive. The bike's combination of light weight, rigidity, racy
dimensions and excellent suspension gave it the feel of a much smaller
machine. This was an open-class bike that handled better than any 600cc
sportster.
The Rl was not infallible, and like many short, light, powerful
bikes it shook its head under hard acceleration over a series of bumps. But
most of the time the Rl just felt so responsive and controllable that its
rider could seemingly do no wrong, despite the bike's sheer speed.
Its front brake was a match for
that of any rival, combining fierce power with plenty of feel. Detailing was
generally good, notably the instrument console, which combined a digital
speedometer and traditional analogue rev-counter with the welcome addition
of a clock. Despite that useful touch the R1 was not a bike for everyday
use. It was uncomfortable for its rider at slow speed, and hopeless for a
pillion at any speed. It was so fast and furious that even some experienced
riders found their needs better met by a slightly less focused alternative.
But for those who
valued pure performance above all else, the YZF-R1 was simply sensational.
Even before it had turned a wheel in anger, those figures for power, weight
and wheelbase had made Yamaha's new star the world's best superbike on
paper. On road and racetrack alike, it fully lived up to that promise.
