A Case For Suzuki
We all recognize and credit the 1969 CB750 for kicking off the modern era, but the members of Japan's big four see it somewhat differently. Kawasaki, Yamaha, Honda and Suzuki can all rightfully lay claim to individual accomplishments leading up to this landmark motorcycle, and history supports this as fact. Each of these approached the business of producing motorcycles in graphically different ways, until market demand and p
ressure from the EPA forced them into the same UJM-badged, inline-four-stroke pigeonhole. Even then, if viewed without bias, the similarities disappear upon closer examination. Like most everyone else during the 70s, I waited for my copy of Cycle to arrive in the mail, and devoured it when it did. Even then I noticed a peculiar pattern from Neilson and Schilling; they lauded the raw-boned character of Kawasaki's big four, admired Yamaha's ingenuity (routinely placing their two-stroke off-roaders at the top of the list) lavished credit upon Honda for their manufacturing and design prowess...but they loved Suzuki. Especially the four strokes and especially Schilling, whose deep intellectual prose and mechanical insight would highlight a certain design feature or manufacturing method unique to the brand. The others promised much but never failed to engineer in a few maddening glitches. The Suzuki meanwhile, often understated and with a tighter marketing budget, seemingly arrived a little better prepared, slightly more sorted and ultimately more capable overall.
Compared to the other members of the Big Four, Suzuki was more guarded; closed off and secretive. Why this is remains a question only someone closer to the situation can answer, but as the smallest member of the group, perhaps Suzuki felt the element of surprise was necessary. Like the others, 
Suzook had their fair share of misguided designs, but even the failed RE5 Rotary served to demonstrate Suzuki's advancement in chassis technology. The RE5 may have been a overly-complicated mistake that roasted its rider like a pig on a spit, but it handled. Better, Cycle concluded in a 1975 ten-bike comparison, than anything Japan had produced before. Interestingly, another motorcycle in that test rivaled the RE5's on-road manners; Suzuki's own, revamped for 1975 GT750 two-stroke triple. The Kettle remains this writer's favorite Japanese vintage bike for virtues too numerous to mention in this space.
It all came together for Suzuki in 1977 with the introduction of the GS750B. With a new DOHC, 748cc inline four, the GS 750 (along with the GS550) was Suzuki's first volley into the four-stroke market. While it didn't quite stir the same reaction as either the 750 Four or the original Z1, it was probably the best all around Japanese motorcycle yet built. The following year Suzuki introduced the timelessly beautiful GS1000E and the company was literally (thanks to Wes Cooley) off to the races. In successive years Suzuki hit one home run after another; including the GS1000S, the shaft-drive GS850/1000 tourers, the 16v GS1100 in 1980 and the Hans Muth-designed Katana 1000. By 1984 Suzuki was paring the line in preparation for brilliant GSX-R but found time to revamp its largest GS one last time. 1984's stump-pulling GS1150 was fast, handsome, and a possible future classic.
Suzuki's were generally offered for low retail, and that coincided in resale value. That pricing follows the line still with relatively well kept GS fours selling for nickles on the dollar. Mechanically rugged, I've received many emails and notes from new owners who've put long-dormant Suzukis back on the road with just a basic service. Understanding that it's hard to pick a bad Japanese anything, the idea here is to make you aware that other options exist for a strong, reliable vintage Japanese bike. For those of you looking to get in low and stay there, the smart money points to the Suzuki GS. Nolan Woodbury
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