Source wikipedia

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.

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.