Africa, The Dark Continent. That’s where I wanted to go. On two wheels, down the western seaboard, Mauritania, south-east across the Sahara towards Mali and the Congo and on towards the Cape. I’d put six grand and up to a year aside to complete the job, all I needed now was the bike. There was only one for the job, the Yamaha XT600. I’d read all I could find on this bike and the people who had ridden this thing halfway round the world. I’d been following the email trail of a German who had begun the trip in February 2000 and had finally completed the journey seven months later. Discounting terrorism, ebola, and just plain dying in the desert, it seemed just about possible to get across this dangerous continent on two wheels and in one piece. I’d planned to buy the bike in November last year and begin the journey in February 2001 hoping to be back in time for Christmas. As I was arranging visas and suchlike my father suddenly became ill and my plans were thrown into disarray. He insisted I go as planned but my focus had shifted and I postponed the trip. Given the nature of my fathers illness I decided to put the journey off for a couple of years. The TimeLord had now decreed I leave sometime early 2003. I’d already sold my car in anticiption of buying the XT, so January saw me in a borrowed Cavalier, engine overheating in grid-locked rush-hour traffic in fog-bound Sheffield. As I sat in the jam and gloomily watched the temperature gauge crawl imperceptibly towards the red section, the date palms of Muaritania seemed a million miles away.
In March with my birthday fast approaching and my XT buying plans consigned to the waste-bin I found myself staring at a big blue and white Suzuki in one of the local showrooms.
"What’s that?" I asked the salesmen.
"It’s, er a TLR," came the uncertain reply.
"Have you sold many?" I asked.
"Er, no, not really".
"Why’s that then".
"Dunno, not very popular".
Faced with such stunning sales techniques I decided to go away and find out a bit more about the oddball Suzuki. What I discovered intrigued me. Suzuki launched the TLR in 1998 at the same time as Yamaha brought out the R1. And while the international bike press loved the R1 instantly it seemed that they hated the V twin Suzuki in equal measure. Inevitably the TLR was compared to the Ducati and the bike journo’s had already convinced themselves before they even climbed aboard the TLR that it wasn’t going to measure up. Consequently the bad press affected sales and the TLR was deemed to be the forgotton Suzuki. A different story was coming out of America though where the motorcycling fraternity isn’t so hung up on Ducatis and where the TLR was being raced enthusiastically and with some success. Nearly every TLR owner swore by the bike and the overall impression I got from these folk was that they were all ectstatic in the knowledge that they had stumbled upon an undiscovered gem that sounded awesome and went like a train.
I went back and did the deal.
Since April I’ve covered over 4000 miles on the TLR and I have to say the yanks were right. This is one phenomenal machine and it just cries out to be tweeked. Mods in the way of race cans, air box and filter, steering damper, rear and front suspension, etc, all go towards turning a really good bike into a great one. Once this bike is set up (and it has to be) it is a revelation. The stock MEZ3 Metzlers should be binned in favour of Michelin Sports. This simple (but expensive) act transforms the bikes handling and with a rear tyre lasting, at the most, 3500 miles, will probably transform your bank balance too. Performance from the V twin power-plant is simply jaw-droppingly awesome. This thing rips your arms out of their sockets, but provided you’re willing to climb all over it into the bends the TLR pays you back in bucketloads. This isn’t a lazy mans bike and there’s no way you can ride it rigid in the saddle. You really have to dial in some aggression with the TLR to get the best out of it; it is one bike that truly responds to being manhandled and bossed into the corners. Crazy three-digit straight-line speeds, which really shouldn’t be documented here, come with the territory. To own one is to go very, very fast on one. Fuel consumption is ruinous but a small price to pay for such a mind blowing ride.
Suzuki announced in the summer that they are to cease production on the TLR and the lesser TLS. Poor sales as a result of narrow-minded journalistic talents have seen a potentially world-beating bike suffer a cruelly short existence. I’ve got one though and buying it is one of the best things I ever did. There’s one or two left in showrooms around the country – and people don’t know what their missing.
When the time comes to buy the big trailie and trundle off towards the sands of Sub-Saharan Africa, I know that whatever happens on that ride nothing could ever match that wallflower of a motorcycle that is (was) the Suzuki TL1000R.
