From our Old Bike Archives – Issue 94 – first published in 2021.
Story: Jim Scaysbrook • Photographs: Rob Dames
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” – Oscar Wilde
“Haw, haw”, they chortled. Honda’s gone and copied a Ducati. Yeah right. Like Ducati copied a Harley, or a JAP 8/80, or a Vincent. Because the V-twin concept is as old as motorcycling itself, and the variations are myriad, and continuous. They just keep coming. So a “Honda from Bologna” the Firestorm definitely is not. It’s just that in the late ‘nineties, there certainly existed a market for a well-engineered, sporty v-twin, as Suzuki had found with the TL1000S, and Honda was especially keen to get a slice of the action.
Honda’s simple yet highly effective V-twin celebrates its 25th birthday next year, so that makes it a modern classic in our books. The FireStorm, as it was known everywhere except in the USA – where it went under the name of Super Hawk – was in production from 1997 to 2005. While not revolutionary in concept, the FireStorm had plenty of solid thinking packed into it. Mindful of one of the major criticisms directed at Ducati, the Honda delivered a riding position that was far less taxing on the rider’s back, shoulder and wrists. Rather than the traditional clip-on handlebars, the bars sat above the steering crown and the seat was far less raked than on the European bikes, and even Honda’s own Fireblade. The other point in the triangle, the footrests, were set well to the rear, with the pillion footrests located on the top muffler mount. To be honest, the FireStorm (let’s just call it the VTR from here on) was not really a two-up bike, although it could function as one provided the passenger was not scared of heights and had a degree of self-padding in his or her posterior. The lack of grab rail added to the precarious habitat of the pillion.
The chassis package consisted of a pressed and welded alloy midriff spine with a bolted on rear subframe in square-section alloy. Honda proudly stated at the VTR release that the entire frame weighed just 7kg. The rectangular-section alloy swinging arm pivoted in the rear of the crankcases (a la Ducati), helping to avoid the bugbear of many V-twins, that of an overly long wheelbase. Up front sat 41mm cartridge forks that most riders found too soft. After-market companies did big business in kits to improve the action of the forks, which had only rebound damping. Winding on a few turns of spring pre-load helped somewhat, but the deficiency was highlighted by just how effective were the 296mm discs (the same diameter as the sporting CBR600 but thicker) with their RC45-derived four-piston Nissin calipers stopping the show. The rear was handled by Honda’s proven Pro-Link system with a single Showa shock absorber, which, like the front, was devoid of compression damping and was also an early target for after-market gear from the likes of Öhlins or WP. Both ends had plenty of travel: 109mm up front and 124mm at the rear.
Acting as a fully-stressed member of the chassis, the engine had bore and stroke dimensions of 98mm x 66mm – identical to the TL1000S and the Ducati 996 – but unlike the rival pair, crankcases on the VTR were horizontally split. The top half of the crankcase also contained the cylinder barrels. In keeping with its role as a chassis member, the engine castings were heavily gusseted at the points were it connected to the frame. Inside the engine, the plain bearing crank, with a single crankpin holding the rods, dispensed with the usual studs-and-nuts method in favour of bolts to secure the rods to the big end – primarily designed to reduce reciprocating weight. In a cost-saving move, the cylinder heads were identical, but with the rear rotated 180 degrees, dictating that the cam chains drove from opposite sides – the rear from the right and the front from the left. This meant that the carburettors – whopping great 48mm flat-slide Keihin CV jobs – faced each other and could breathe through a single air-box, which itself was fed via ducts in the front of the fairing. A computer-controlled electronic ignition system with throttle and ignition timing sensors provided the sparks. Without the carbs, the engine package tipped the scales at an impressive 68kg.
One novel feature of the VTR was the abandonment of the usual practice of having a single large radiator running across the frame, which added considerably to the overall width once a fairing was wrapped around the extremities. Instead, twin radiators were side-mounted – a feature first seen on the ill-fated Honda NR500 Grand Prix machine. Air to the radiator was ducted through the fairing, with a single fan for auxiliary use (working on the right hand side radiator only) when required (as in traffic). The side-mounted radiators also had the benefit of greatly reducing the possibility of being damaged by stones or blocked by debris or insects. Between the main radiators was a small, single oil-cooling radiator sitting transversely.
On with the show
It’s fair to say that the VTR was not met with instant hysteria – the critics pointing to the fairly modest power output when compared to the fuel-injected Suzuki, and to the conservative styling, but this was a motorcycle that grew on the buying public, and sales increased steadily. In fact, Honda received forward orders for 15,000 VTRs for the 1997 production run, when only 10,000 were planned to be built. Around 400 made it to Australia in 1997, initially selling for $13,990 plus ORC. Most of these were red, with a handful finished in yellow, while black and blue models came on stream later. In 1998 and 1999, the VTR was Australia’s largest selling road bike in the Sports/Touring segment. Thankfully, the bugbears that accompanied the earlier Honda V4s – including premature camshaft wear due to ineffective lubrication of the top end – were nowhere to be seen on the new V-twin, which gained a reputation for enviable reliability and minimal maintenance.
And while calling the VTR a tourer, even a sports/tourer, was stretching the point a little, plenty found their way onto the highways and covering long distances. In standard form, little attention had been made to toting the gear necessary for covering decent mileage in varying weather; just a few hooks for Occy straps at the tail. To this end, several companies offered after-market luggage components and the handling niggles were also leapt upon by performance-product manufacturers. The standard windshield also wasn’t much use out on the highways.
On the other hand, the engine’s wide spread of power and low-down torque, low overall weight and excellent brakes made it a practical and sporty around-town bike. The engine would pull happily from as low as 2,500 rpm, and really hit its straps around 4,500, thereafter surging to the 9,000 rpm red line and beyond – a rev-limiter stopped play at 10,300. The standard mufflers kept the exhaust note well muted, and an instant market sprang up supplying slip on replacements that accentuated the VFR’s naturally throaty burble.
What instrumentation there was consisted of a cluster of black face speedo, white face tacho and an engine temperature gauge, plus the usual indicator lights. A low-fuel warning light appeared when the fuel level reached approximately 2.5 litres.
Testing times
The VTR was unleashed upon Australian journalists at an exclusive session at the Phillip Island Grand Prix circuit in early 1997. Inevitably, most wrote a comparison account between the VTR, the Suzuki and the Ducati, which was also inevitable in pointing out the Suzuki’s slight power advantage (over the Honda) of about 5 horsepower at the rear wheel, and the bluntness of the handling compared to the Ducati. But what became clear was that the Honda did everything quite well. There really was plenty of power and an abundance of torque and flexibility, the gearbox was a ripper, riding position suited most, the brakes excellent and the suspension average. Most criticised the absence of adjustment for compression damping at both ends and a ponderous front fork action, but these proved to be fairly simple fixes, at least within reason. Despite the almost universal swing to Electronic fuel injection, the big carbs did their job extremely well, giving superb, smooth throttle response.
Time marches on
While its rival Suzuki TL1000 ceased production in 2001, the VFR continued until 2005. During that time the basic package remained substantially unchanged. In 2001 a number of upgrades appeared, the most visible of which was an increase in fuel capacity to 19 litres, including a 3.5 litre reserve, for all markets except the US which retained the original 16 litre tank. Handlebars became slightly taller and further rear-set which made for a more upright riding position, although the footrests stayed in their original position. The instrumentation was modified to LCD and expanded to include fuel level gauge as well as the engine temperature, two trip meters and a clock. The front brake and clutch master cylinders went from circular to a rectangular shape. An engine immobiliser officially termed Honda Ignition Security System (HISS) became standard fitment. Pre-dating the current trend for matte finished bodywork, a new décor of Matte Gunpowder Black appeared alongside the standard red and blue.
Track attack
Although the VTR was conceived as a sporty road bike rather than a racetrack weapon, that didn’t stop a few people converting them for racing. Probably the most prominent VFR exponent was Rob Carrall, from Lake Macquarie, south of Newcastle, NSW, who was a regular in the Formula Xtreme Series from 1997 on. In 1997 Rob claimed the Thunderclass Championship in its inaugural year on his very standard looking yellow VTR.
Rob was a very popular figure in his native Toronto and ran a successful automotive repair business for many years. He was also responsible for introducing his good mate, Kevin Curtain, to road racing. Curtain had an exhaust repair business right next door until he went to race, highly successfully, in the Supersport World Championship. Tragically, Rob Carrall passed away in 2010 at the age of only 49 when he suffered a massive heart attack while playing drums in a band in Sydney.
An owner’s appraisal
The 2001 model featured here belongs to Gold Coast-based Geoffrey Walker, who has clocked up 30,000km on it in the four years he has owned it, bringing the odometer past the 80,000km mark. A member of the Queensland branch of the Vintage Japanese Motorcycle Club, Geoffrey is a keen rider and has a couple of VTR-owning friends, Dion Rogers with a 1999 model and Tania Mani with a red 2004 model.
“I had a CB1300S Honda but it was a big lump of a bike and difficult to manoeuvre around town so I went looking for something more practical. I had never really considered a V-twin and by only experience with this sort of bike was when my mate Trevor Thomas bought a Vincent in the ‘seventies. I settled on a VTR and found one for sale and instantly decided to buy it. When I first rode it I thought, ‘What have I bought here?” – it seemed down on power and completely different to anything else I had ridden, but the more I rode it the better it became for me and I soon grew to really like it, so the CB1300S went and it’s my ride of choice now.
“In the time I have owned it there has been no major work carried out, apart from fitting new cam chain tensioners. I was warned about the consequences of running the original tensioners which have a few problems, so I had this work done and there have been no issues whatsoever. I also had a 6mm spacer installed in the rear shock to lift the rear end a bit which makes it steer better. It has a K&N air filter and I have it serviced every 5-6,000 km.”
V T R: Very Temporary Relationship
Story: Rennie Scaysbrook
Like many first loves, mine and my 1998 Honda VTR1000F was a fleeting one. This was my first big bike. Not only that, as a 20-year-old in 2003 who could barely distinguish between his arse and his elbow and freshly moved out of home, this was the first time I put my own cash down and bought a streetbike, not relying on the bank of Mr. and Mrs. Old Bike to foot the bill.
I found it in the Trading Post (I think). A gloss black VTR1000F Firestorm, complete with barking loud and very shiny Staintune mufflers that would roar my arrival at any destination about half an hour before I got there.
I only got one good ride on it. That was a mid-week jaunt from Turramurra up the Old Pacific Highway and back, along with a couple of trips to work in Artarmon as an apprentice mechanic. From memory, the power was way more violent than I’d ever experienced. Compared to dad’s Yamaha XJR1200 I’d been riding for a few years (and threw up the back of a parked car at 80 km/h two years prior), the Honda was far more feisty but equally more sporty than the Yamaha ever could be.
It all came to a very abrupt end one night in mid-2003. My lifelong mate and then roommate, Simon, had borrowed the VTR to go to a friend’s house for the night. I told him if he had one drop of grog, he was to leave the bike there and I’d grab it in the morning. Predictably, Simon got absolutely ratfaced, but, unpredictably, he decided to leave the bike at the house. That didn’t stop Tommy, who was kinda-sorta living with us at the time, deciding to don Simon’s helmet and take the Honda back home, via the long and potentially very fast way up Kissing Point Rd in Turramurra. With no gloves, a flimsy helmet, and basic jeans and t-shirt, Tommy sent the VTR up the road at “about 140 km/h” after dodging whatever it was that jumped out in front of him at speed. Or perhaps his ambition quickly outstripped his talent? I suspect the latter.
Tommy sheepishly rang me up while I was out with my then girlfriend and told me what happened. Furious, I bolted home to see the VTR from the bottom of the driveway, and honestly, it didn’t look too bad. But like nightclub strobe lights can mask the kind of face you’d only kiss when you’re hammered, on closer inspection, the VTR was properly, irreparably, bent. Tommy’s hands were worse. The poor bugger put his un-gloved hands out to stop himself sliding into the oncoming traffic, and absolutely shredded his palms; tendons and bones there for all to see. However, as he’s a man of fortitude, Tommy rocked up to the bank the very next day, his hands looking something like an ancient Egyptian mummy’s, and got a loan for $8100 to buy the VTR off me for the same price I paid for it a couple of months prior. Thus, mine and the VTR’s whirlwind romance was over. It could have been worse. Tommy could have skipped out on me and left me with a wreck, which he didn’t. There were lessons learned. But Tommy’s hands held the biggest one. In motorcycles, as in love, always wear protection.
Specifications: 1997 Honda VTR1000F FireStorm
Engine: 90º V-twin, chain-driven DOHC, 4 valves per cylinder, water cooled.
Bore x stroke: 98.0mm x 66.0mm
Compression ratio: 9.4:1
Ignition: CDI with electronic advance/retard
Induction: 2 x 48mm Keihin CV carbs
Transmission: 6 speed with chain final drive. 10-plate hydraulic clutch.
Frame: Twin-Spar alloy
Suspension: Front: 41mm Cartridge forks with adjustable spring pre-load and rebound damping.
Rear: Honda Pro Link with Showa shock, adjustable spring-pre-load and rebound damping.
Brakes: Front: 2 x 296mm discs with Nissin 4-piston calipers
Rear: 1 x 220 disc with single-piston caliper.
Wheels: Hollow section three spoke cast alloy.
Tyres: Front: 120/70 ZR 17 Radial; Rear: 180/55 ZR17 Radial
Wheelbase: 1430mm
Weight (dry): 192kg
Fuel capacity: 16 litres.
Seat height: 810mm
Power: 104hp @ (9,000 rpm at the rear wheel.
Torque: 88.0Nm @ 7,000 rpm at the rear wheel.
Top speed: 249 km/h
Price – Australia 1997: $13,990 + ORC
