23 minute read
COVER STORY 2-STROKE SUPERBIKES OF THE 1970s
The Misunderstood
Mach IV Celebrating 50 years of Kawasaki’s 1972 Mach IV H2, and the debunking of the “widowmaker” myth
BY MITCH BOEHM PHOTOS: KMC ARCHIVE F
eeling misunderstood can be painful. It can leave one feeling helpless, impatient and angry. If you’re a motorcycle, none of that matters…unless, of course, the properties of plastic, rubber, steel and aluminum have yet to be completely understood.
Still, motorcycles can be misunderstood, or at least mischaracterized, with one of the best examples being Kawasaki’s 1972 Mach IV (or H2), which celebrates its gold-tinged 50-year
STEVE JOHNSON
Performance-wise, there was nothing in the Mach IV’s league, a fact that was highlighted by magazine coverage of the day, including Cycle World and Motorcyclist as well as Cycle and Cycle Guide (shown here). Cycle’s cover (left) screamed “World’s quickest bike, by far!” and it wasn’t a joke.
anniversary this year.
Many of you have heard the stories of the H2 through the years, either in print, online or from the mouths of those without a lot of firsthand knowledge. Like the 500cc H1 that came before it, the collective lore says, the 750cc H2 was a brute — a big, blow-your-head-off engine wrapped in a spindly frame that delivered wobbly, toss-you-off handling, uncontrollable third- and fourth-gear wheelies, 150-mph top speeds, and a saddlebag’s worth of ways to throw you down the road every time you jumped aboard.
“This guy pulls alongside me,” you’re bound to hear if you listen long enough, “shifts into fourth and yanks a big stonkin’ wheelie!” And then there’s the infamous “widowmaker” moniker, routinely applied to the big Kaw.
But really, it’s all BS.
It is true that Kawasaki’s 1972 H2 was shockingly quick for its day, faster than most street riders could wrap their heads around. It ran low
12s at the strip, quicker than any streetbike in history, wheelied too easily in first gear, surged and shook like a wet dog at certain revs, got lousy fuel mileage, was loud, was not all that reliable, and it smoked like a chimney.
Even racers and hard-core enthusiasts of the day were anxious about the H2, especially those who’d ridden its peaky and twitchy 500cc little brother — Kawasaki’s 1969
Mach III H1. “Many of us,” old school club-racer and good friend Jack Seaver told me once, “heard the rumors of a 750cc H1 and asked, ‘are you kidding?’”
But anticipation and reputation were not reality. The H2, it turned out, was not the inherently dangerous motorcycle popular moto-culture so often says it was. Heck, the thing only made about 70 horsepower at the rear wheel — about what a Suzuki SV650 makes.
What the H2 was, actually, was a reasonably competent — for its time — open-class 2-stroke streetbike that just happened to be the undisputed Speed King of the motorcycling universe, at least in ’72. Nothing went stoplight-to-stoplight harder or faster, or with as much visceral, mind-bending thrill, and that sort of performance made folks forget — or “The H2 makes me smile every time I ride one, It’s ridiculous! The thing had such a massive impact when it debuted. I just had to own one.”
RICK BRETT
forgive — a lot of negatives.
Which is exactly what happened in the H2’s case. Because besides its raft of idiosyncrasies, the H2 was not only wildly popular in its day (and largely helped forge Kawasaki’s performance-bike reputation) but has cemented itself over the years as one of the most desirable classics on earth.
The story of the 1972 Kawasaki Mach IV H2 750 begins, of course, with the Mach III H1 of 1969, a 500cc 2-stroke triple conceived, designed and built during the latter 1960s — a time when Kawasaki was new to the U.S. market and looking to elbow its way more forcefully into the mix.
The peaky-yet-fast H1 did its job well, catapulting Kawasaki — which had only 250 and 350cc 2-stroke twins prior to that point, plus a BSA 650 clone and a range of small-bore 2-strokes — to the top of the performance heap despite the appearance of Honda’s smooth and refined — but heavier and slightly slower — CB750 Four that same year.
“The Mach III,” wrote longtime motojournalist Charles Everitt in 2008, “was pure Kentucky bourbon,
straight up and without a beer chaser … designed to pack the best powerto-weight ratio available and be an absolute menace at the dragstrip, cornering performance be damned.”
And the H1’s cornering performance was damned… damned bad! “It wobbled at speed,” remembered the late Kawasaki test rider and race-team mechanic/ manager Steve Johnson, “and dragged its undercarriage in fast corners.”
Still, the Kawasaki crew didn’t worry all that much, as they were out to build a performance reputation — and at the time, brutish, armstraightening power was the quickest way there.
“Finally,” Johnson told me, “Kawasaki had something to sell to folks wanting a big, fast and nasty streetbike, a bike that could outrun anything out there. Kawasaki didn’t even hint at handling or cornering; it was all about acceleration and top speed. When the [H1s] came out they were instantly all over the dragstrips.”
Focusing on speed (and not refinement or handling, which the CB750 had in spades) was a bit of a risk, but Kawasaki happily took the chance. “Kawasaki was a big company and could afford to be risky,” longtime U.S. Suzuki manager Jim Kirkland told me a decade ago. “A friend at Kawasaki back then told me they built crazy bikes like the H1 and H2 strictly for the publicity, and to ‘get our name out there.’”
Of course, with motorcycle sales exploding and larger-bore bikes becoming more popular with buyers during the late 1960s and early 1970s, Kawasaki was already looking for the next big thing. Or things, as it would turn out. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves there…
Despite Honda’s refined and successful 4-stroke 750 Four, Kawasaki knew 2-strokes — and especially 2-stroke triples — still made sense. They were narrower than fours, made more power per cc, were lighter than similarly displaced
A distinctly high handlebar helped give the H2 roomy ergonomics, but the waffle grips and severe vibration transmitted through that handlebar made longer treks — especially higher-speed ones — extra painful. Still, one could live with the H2 as an everyday ride.
four strokes, cost less to build, and the EPA had yet to clamp down.
Time to strike, then…
Kawasaki engineers conceived of a bigger H1 even during that bike’s development in 1968, and within months, 650cc versions began circulating in Japan. Test mules were refined, with modified frames, disc brakes and as much suspension tuning as engineers could muster. And by late 1970 a couple prototypes made their way to California for some serious testing.
As Kawasaki’s primary test rider at the time, Steve Johnson remembered that first H2 prototype well. “It was a 650,” Johnson said, “and it arrived with a small team of test riders and engineers. We developed a plan and headed north on California Route 395 with a chase van full of parts and a spare bike. Right off the bat, the Japanese test rider wanted to show me how fast the bike was and quickly got pulled over for doing 120 mph plus. The cop was highly pissed and wanted to haul him away, but was frustrated by his neartotal lack of English. I somehow talked the officer out of arresting him, and he let us go.”
A day later the group tested on a curvy part of Interstate 80 in western Nevada (Nevada, according to Johnson, chosen for its legal brothels, which the Japanese wanted to sample). “The guy in charge,” Johnson said, “told me, ‘Steve-san, we will use this section for high-speed cornering test, and we will film you. Please ride as fast as possible!’ I’m thinking ‘you’re nuts!’ but began doing laps anyway, cutting across the median to turn around, as the nearest on-ramp was miles behind us.”
“The thing had a super-tall first gear and was peaky,” Johnson continued, “not as bad as the 500, but close. It wobbled at speed
“The guy in charge told me, ‘Steve-san, we will use this section for high-speed cornering test, and we will film you. Please ride as fast as possible!’ I’m thinking ‘you’re nuts!’” STEVE JOHNSON
every time through, too; I just sorta hung on and prayed. After several runs, I came in. ‘Very good,’ they told me; ‘now we do shock testing!’ This went on all day. At night, we headed to some cat ranch in Winnemucca. I was only 19 at the time and couldn’t get in, but the girls would come out front and offer me drinks!”
Once back at Kawasaki’s R&D headquarters in Santa Ana, all agreed that high-speed stability was unacceptable; power delivery was too abrupt; first gear was too tall; and the brakes could be better. Six months later, another bike arrived, only this time it was a final-spec preproduction machine, not a hand-built prototype. It was also a 750.
“It was much better,” Johnson told me, “and more refined. Power was up and the delivery was smoother; gearing and brakes were better, too, and the wobbles were mostly gone. The team did a really good job. I guess maybe they were extra relaxed when they got back!”
The magazines received test units in the fall of 1971, and the promotional results were both explosive and immediate. The bike was instantly faster in terms of quarter-mile ET and top speed than anything available, and reasonably functional — the vibration, noise, surging and mileage issues notwithstanding.
Longtime Motorcyclist Editor Art Friedman tested a first-year H2 while working for Cycle News, and found it funky yet functional. “It was actually a pretty good sporting streetbike despite its quirks,” Friedman told me. “It was no tourer, but it handled well and had good brakes, even when ridden hard in the twisties…and boy was it fast!
“All that made you forget about the vibes, smoking and surging,” Friedman continued. “It was also a great production racer. I raced several H2s during the 1970s, and won a lot of races on them, even finishing sixth in an early Superbike
event at Laguna Seca. It was bone stock except for Dunlop K81s, Koni shocks and a swingarm bushing kit.”
Motorcyclist agreed with its future Editor in its January 1972 road test, chronicling the bike’s many bothersome quirks but reveling in its breathtaking speed, great brakes and secure handling, even when ridden hard. “Handling is far better than expected and a vast improvement over the sometimes-snaky Mach III,” the editors wrote. “Thankfully, the 750’s geometry and suspension are up to the job. With this engine a rider can be over his head with alarming frequency, yet the chassis will save him by rifling through turns without any scraping or undue waver.”
Although ambivalent about the H2 in many ways, the magazine ended its review this way: “A 12-second 750 for $1,395? So what if it shakes?”
And therein lies the enduring magic of the H2, both today and back in the day: People love the thing despite its warts. As much as any early generation CB750, Yamaha TZ750 or Suzuki Trail Hopper, the H2
JIM KIRKLAND
generates an emotional connection with baby boomer acolytes that’s as fierce and memorable as any smoky, tire-squealing launch down the strip on one of the things.
Suzuki’s GT750 LeMans, for instance, introduced the same year as the H2, packed far more smoothness, civility and touring capability into its 2-stroke triple package, but didn’t sell as well as the H2, and isn’t nearly as desirable or collectable today despite being a popular and enduring classic itself. Functional perfection (or something close to it) isn’t always what endures. Attitude, impact and a visceral connection usually do, and the H2 had those in spades. And still does.
Rick Brett is one of the world’s premier H2 experts and collectors,
with upwards of 30 examples, as well as at least one of every triple Kawasaki ever made. “The H2 makes me smile every time I ride one,” he told me some years ago. “It’s ridiculous! The thing had such a massive impact when it debuted…we all read about it and were amazed. I just had to own one.”
Dan Mazzoncini, who owns a blue, 250-original-mile ’72-spec H2, agrees. “I was 15 in ’72,” he said, “and known as the neighborhood motorcycle maniac. For some reason a neighbor who’d just bought a brand-new H2 let me ride it, and it literally changed my life! I bought one a year later and loved every second. I got back into them in about 1990, and have been collecting original, low-mile triples ever since. They’re amazing bikes.”
The H2 lasted just four years, from ’72 to ’75. Those years were truly a golden era for motorcycling, with unreal sales and some pretty amazing advancements in performance and reliability — though one in which the twowheeled environment would morph radically. To wit: Kawasaki launched its mighty, 4-stroke 903cc Z1 in ’73 (the other next big thing referred to earlier…); smog laws laid the groundwork for the end of the 2-stroke streetbike era; the Arab oil embargo of late ‘73 tripled the cost of oil; and more importantly, the big streetbikes of the day were becoming fast and civil, a combination that the H2 could not even dream to possess.
And then, in ’76, came the stellar Suzuki GS750, which would change the streetbike status quo forever.
Still, the legacy and impact of the H2 and its four-year run lingers strongly, like blue-tinged tire smoke hovering above Orange County Raceway in ’72 or ’73. During those crazy, On Any Sunday-flavored 1970s, the H2 was fast, daring, emotional, and yeah, full of quirks.
It remains that way today, wholly fascinating in just about every way, a raw, unfiltered throwback to a time when many of us were reveling in the discovery of what were then truly mind-bending motorcycles.
But a “widowmaker” it was not — unless, of course, you twisted the throttle too much and too often without the skills to back it up. And that’d be on you. AMA
Kawasaki H2R
When Team Green shoehorned a hot-rodded, 100-plus-horse H2 engine into a lightweight racing chassis, it seemed like a can’t-lose proposition…
BY MITCH BOEHM
I
t certainly made sense at the time… Take a modified version of your H1R racebike frame (which morphed from a 250-class racer’s chassis), jam a ported, polished and otherwise hot-rodded 2-stroke powerplant from your new king-hell H2 streetbike into it, add lightweight wheels, grippy slicks and the best brakes you can find, wrap it all in swoopy fiberglass, call it the H2R and hire fast guys like AMA Hall of Famers Gary Nixon and Yvon DuHamel, as well as Hurley Wilvert to ride ’em in AMA Championship road races at places like Daytona, Talladega and Ontario Motor Speedway.
The competition at the time was 750-class 4-strokes (British triples
PHOTO COURTESY KMC/NORM BIGELOW
and Honda 750 Fours, mostly) and 350-class Yamaha twins, so on paper, at least, there wasn’t much of it. But as they say so often in endurance racing, you gotta be there at the end — and very often the trick-and-fastbut-oh-so-fragile H2Rs were not.
They shredded tires, which were way behind the times as these new 2-stroke, high-horsepower hot-rods from Kawasaki and Suzuki (which brought a GT750-powered racer to Daytona in ’72) appeared on the scene. Being air-cooled, the H2R also ran super-hot, which caused all sorts of seizure-related problems.
“At Talladega in 1973,” wrote Cycle’s Kevin Cameron, “something had broken in Yvon’s engine, up on the banking at 170 mph. Oil from the shattered crankcase ignited on the hot exhaust pipes and the bike became a 30-foot comet of fire. ‘I feel somet’ing hot on my leg an’ I look down. Fire! So I slow down, down on the apron, an’ when I t’ink I’m stopped I step off. But I’m going 40 miles an hour! Dat bike go on, falls over, and it’s burning up. I had to rap on the window of the fire truck there — the two guys are sleeping in there with the air conditioning on.’”
When they didn’t seize or melt tires or become 170-mph comets on the bankings, H2Rs won a handful of races. But their time in the Daytona and Talladega sun was short-lived. As soon as Yamaha’s legendary TZ700/750 appeared on the scene in ’74, all bets on this greener shade of lime were off — even if Wilvert did finish third on an H2R that year at Daytona behind Giacomo Agostini and Kenny Roberts. But that’s a story for another time. AMA
KEVIN CAMERON
Kawasaki H1
1969 saw some serious mind-blowers: men on the moon, Woodstock, the Jets over the Colts in Super Bowl III — and the launch of Kawasaki’s 500cc Mach III
BY MITCH BOEHM PHOTOS: KEVIN WING
Into what had become by the late 1960s a staid, predictable and somewhat boring big-streetbike category dominated mainly by old-school British and European twins — with a smattering of small-bore 2- and 4-stroke Asian bikes beginning to generate noises of their own — came Mitsubishi Zero cannon blasts in the form of two all-new Japanese motorcycles: Honda’s ultra-refined CB750 Four and Kawasaki’s audacious Mach III 500cc triple, also known as the H1.
The H1 was light, loud, funky and fast, a true two-wheeled hot rod, a bike that stretched both credulity and riders’ arms — and one that definitely got you noticed. Could the “H” in H1 have stood for Hellacious? You betcha.
“Kawasaki,” wrote the late Gordon Jennings for Cycle in early ’69, “has thrown together one of the most devastating two-wheelers ever to happen on the scene.”
Introduced in early ’69, the Mach III was a 500cc 2-stroke triple designed to pack the best power-to-weight ratio available and be an absolute menace at the dragstrip, cornering performance be damned. “The H1 was for the power-hungry American market,” wrote classic-bike journalist Frank Melling, “where straight-line power ruled the day.”
“I was a test rider for Kawasaki when the H1 came along,” longtime Kawasaki R&D/raceteam member Steve Johnson told me. “We got a pre-production bike, and it was a big deal. Before that, Kawasaki only made 250 and 350cc twins. The bike was advanced, with a CDI [capacitive discharge ignition], though it leaked so much energy and ran so hot that if you ran it in a dark garage you’d see sparks flying everywhere!
Johnson found the bike frighteningly fast, but it was by no means a handler. “It wobbled like crazy,” he says, laughing. “It also had very little cornering clearance; it wobbled and dragged and scraped like you wouldn’t believe! It was pretty far advanced from the W1 and W2 (Kawasaki’s BSA twin copies) we’d been selling, so finally, Kawasaki had something to sell to folks wanting a big, fast and nasty streetbike, a big bike that could outrun anything out there. And it did. Kawasaki didn’t even hint at handling or cornering; it was all about acceleration and top speed. When the things came out they were instantly all over the dragstrips.”
“Back then it was all about horsepower,” Johnson added. “I mean, the H2 and Z1 [launched in ’72 and ’73, respectively] are perfect examples. It really was, ‘Let the good times roll!’” AMA
Suzuki GT750
Suzuki’s 750cc, liquid-cooled LeMans wasn’t the Kaw-beater many wanted, but its do-everything demeanor served Suzuki well as it pivoted from 2-strokes to 4 in the ’70s
BY MITCH BOEHM PHOTOS: FRAN KUHN
Things in life are often not what they seem, and such was the case for industry watchers and motorcycle fans at the 1970 Tokyo Motor Show, where Suzuki debuted its all-new and thoroughly shocking GT750 2-stroke prototype.
At the time, Suzuki’s reputation was that of a maker of reliable and all-around capable streetbikes. Still, no one in attendance would have dared describe the GT750 prototype as merely “competent,” or its styling as “stodgy,” as the candy lavender GT was easily the hit of the show.
Cycle World described it as “one of the eye-poppingist machines to be seen in a long time.” England’s Motor Cycle was similarly exuberant, writing, “Suzuki has stepped into the big league with what must be the most complex super sporting roadster ever built.”
Visions of performance grandeur made plenty of sense to show-goers and magazine readers — and also to Suzuki insiders. Here was a motorcycle powered by a liquid-cooled 750cc triple built by a company with plenty of Grand Prix heritage. How could the GT750 not be a barn-burner?
“Speculation was that it would be a hot rod, an H1-beater,” remembers longtime U.S. Suzuki manager Jim Kirkland. “We heard about the water-cooling, and we knew the GP success the company had in the ’60s. So yeah, expectations were high. But then we heard from Japan staff that the new 750 would be more of an all’rounder, which didn’t really compute. I mean, it was a water-cooled 2-stroke 750 triple! Watercooling was magic. We wanted an H1-beater, wanted a bike that would generate excitement.”
Despite all that desire for what amounted to an H1-beater, Suzuki Japan’s more conservative streak won out, helped no doubt by the success Honda was having by building a wide range of broadly capable motorcycles with top-shelf quality and engineering. Imitating Honda’s sober, mainstream approach, even with a line of 2-strokes, had to seem like Suzuki’s best bet for the American market, already the world’s most important.
“Looking back,” Kirkland added, “the do-everything direction was surely the right one, as it established Suzuki as a serious builder of really good all-around motorcycles.”
And the GT750 was surely one of those. It was quiet, smooth, comfortable, plenty fast and very, very refined…and so different than the Kawasakis. Despite some grumbling, it was well accepted by dealers and, soon enough, by owners. You could ride the thing all day and not get fatigued.
The LeMans may not have been the barn-burner many wanted, but it helped set the stage for the 4-stroke GS line that would put Suzuki at the forefront of the entire sporting motorcycle universe in 1976. AMA
The RD350 appeared in 1973 and was an immediate hit with street riders and racers, both of whom used it to run circles around supposedly more “super” street-going superbikes. The reed-valve-inducted two-stroke twin made decent power (and lots more when hot-rodded), and the chassis (which came from successful Yamaha roadracers) was plenty capable. The Daytona Special of 1979 (center) was the best of the bunch, and a last hurrah for air-cooled Yamaha RDs.
Yamaha RD350
Whether you call it a “Pocket Rocket” or “Giant Killer,” Yamaha’s legendary RD350 fit the bill
BY MITCH BOEHM PHOTOS: KEVIN WING
It’s strange to think about in this day and age of nearly 200-horsepower sportbikes…the idea that a sport motorcycle with half the displacement of a full-on street-going superbike could outperform said superbike on a twisty road or racetrack — and very nearly in dragstrip performance.
But back in the 1970s it was a real thing — and that thing’s name was RD350.
Produced between 1973 and 1975 and based on the groundbreaking R5 model built from 1970 through 1972, Yamaha’s RD350 2-stroke twin established a performance reputation during the decade that far outdistanced its 347cc powerplant and 349-pound weight.
The RD was devastatingly capable on a twisty backroad, and with specific mods was a hellacious roadracer, too, whether in its class or punching upward into the open-class ranks.
It was nearly as fast point-to-point as the heavier 4-stroke superbikes of the day, its reed-valve-equipped twin pushing it from 0 to 60 mph in under six seconds, and recording quarter-mile times just over a second slower than Kawasaki’s very rapid H1 — which sold for over a thousand bucks. The RD’s MSRP? A paltry $839.
The RD stopped faster, too. No other streetbike in history did so much to disrupt the performance-bike pecking order of that crazy decade. A Giant Killer, indeed.
Still, all those race wins, all that streetbike sales success (some 26,000 were sold in 1975 alone…think about that for a minute) and that well-earned reputation as a Giant Killer could not save the RD from extinction. As the 1970s ticked by it became clear that 2-stroke streetbike engines didn’t have a future in America.
Almost in defiance, though, Yamaha gave the RD400 (which replaced the 350 in 1976) a complete facelift for 1979 in the form of the RD400F Daytona Special. It was in many ways a completely new model, with Cycle Guide’s Dain Gingerelli writing in its June 1979 issue, “The RD400F doesn’t look like a motorcycle with one wheel in extinction and the other on an oil slick. It looks like a roadracer, a Yamaha roadracer, as a matter of fact…”
Yamaha offered its RD350LC to American buyers in the form of the 1984 and ’85 RZ350, but with bikes like the 20-valve FZ750 and Suzuki GSX-R750 debuting, it didn’t make much of an impact and never developed the chutzpa and charisma of the original RD — the original Giant Killer. AMA
