“The bike’s not a laughing stock. Far from it.”
Although the B-King’s seat is not particularly high, the bike looked as huge from the vantage point of the saddle as it had when I first walked up to it. Shifting it off the sidestand, it felt heavy too. “Here we go,” I thought “this thing’s going to be a pile.”
The first stop, just a few minutes from Suzuki’s bat-cave, was the Area P dyno room where I’d be meeting up with the MO crew. Even on the short ride, I was already suffering from a little cognitive dissonance because the riding experience was better than I’d expected. But once I met up with Kevin, Pete and Fonzie at Area P, we regaled ourselves at the expense of the B-King’s over-the-top styling. We decided that we’d go for lunch at Burger King, since this bike was such a whopper. Ha, ha. We kill us.
We actually did go to Burger King, and got one of those stupid cardboard crowns they give out with the kid’s menu, and we taped it to my helmet and took some pictures of me riding that way. We laughed some more, imagining the “I’m so hurt you’d mock our bike” calls we’d be getting from Suzuki’s press relations department.
There’s just one catch. The bike’s not a laughing stock. Far from it. Oh, it’s got lots of power, which we all expected. But it’s also got great brakes and frankly amazing handling. It’s comfortable, with the best wind protection I’ve ever experienced without a windscreen, and great ergonomics. I rode 150 miles before the fuel warning flashed on the dash, which is as far as I ever want to ride before stopping to drain my own tank and recaffienate, anyway. No kidding, I could throw soft luggage and a tank bag on this thing and take it sport touring. Or take the mirrors off it, tape over the lights, and take it to a track day.
How the heck did that happen?
Suzuki introduced the 1298cc Hayabusa in 1999. It was the undisputed heavyweight champion in the raw-speed stakes and quickly attracted the interest of horsepower addicts, whether they were racing on the Bonneville Salt Flats in daylight, or on some deserted road in an industrial subdivision after midnight. More than a few of them supercharged their ’Busas, or devised turbocharging or nitrous-injection systems.
In 2001, the motorcycle industry decided to end the top-speed arms race, with a self-imposed 186-mph governor on future models. Only 186? That sort of took the raison d’etre away from the Hayabusa.
Then someone at Suzuki had a brainstorm. What if we took one of those supercharged ’Busa motors and put it in a big naked bike? On the face of it, that was a patently ridiculous notion. Imagine the poor rider, snapping like a flag in the wind, as his arms stretched like rubber bands, hanging onto it for dear life. Still, it was a compelling concept for a show bike, and Suzuki built one for the 2001 Tokyo Motor Show.
That original B-King made an initial impression as huge as its 240-section rear tire. Faced with a global chorus of, “Please, please, please build one like that, that I can buy,” Suzuki set about turning it into reality. The supercharger didn’t make it into the production version (and trust me, it’s not needed) but the rest of the model stayed remarkably close to the original show bike.