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This is the fourth piece in a series on Silodrome written by the
talented Jason Cormier, Jason is a writer, an avid motorcyclist, a
Ducati die-hard, and a shadetree mechanic based in Montreal. He’s
the editor of Odd-Bike.com, a unique website that showcases the
history of rare and unusual motorcycles from around the world.

If you’ve spent any amount of time reading my work here on

Silodrome or over on my website OddBike, you’ll be aware that
I tend to favour independent thought and unique approaches
to the design and construction of motorcycles. The mandate
for my work on this site, such as it is, is to profile rare and
unusual machines – with a particular eye towards unique
technical qualities.

One element I have touched upon in the past is the

proliferation of unique front suspension designs that are
arguably superior to the “traditional” telescopic fork. There
are a few brave engineers, designers and inventors who have
dared to question the hegemony of the fork and propose a
better solution. One of the most prominent, and perhaps the
most misunderstood, is James Parker. Parker was one of the
first inventors to achieve what many backyard tinkerers only
dream of – to have his design adopted by a major
manufacturer and put into mass production. His efforts are
thus one of the best-known contributions to alternative front
suspension design. Unfortunately Parker learned the hard way
that the difference between conception and production can be
significant, and that the design process within a major
manufacturer is far from straightforward.

But first we must discuss why forks are bad, and why you
should consider the alternatives.

The template for the modern fork has existed since the 1930s,
when Nimbus introduced the first hydraulically damped fork –
Scott enthusiasts might interrupt to point out that the Alfred
Angas Scott introduced the first telescopic fork before that,
but Nimbus was the first to introduce the oil-filled damping
mechanism we now take for granted. BMW adopted the
technology shortly after, then Norton got on board, and the
rest is history. Adoption wasn’t universal for several decades
but by the 1960s teleforks were more or less ubiquitous in
production and racing. While crude by modern standards,
these early designs set the pattern – chrome stanchions
sliding within hollow legs, suspended by coil springs, with
internal hydraulic damping, clamped by a pair of triple trees
hung from a steering head on the frame.

Since those early days manufacturers have improved rigidity,

added finer damping control, and improved performance, but
we still have to deal with the same problems that were
encountered nearly 80 years ago. When forks compress, the
wheel moves up and back – this alters the geometry of the
bike dynamically, which is bad news for handling. Bolting the
front wheel to a pair of spindly hollow tubes is a recipe for
lateral flex – no matter how rigid the legs, axles and triples
are. The travel of the stanchion is constantly hampered by
stiction, which is the juddering, sticking motion of the slider
as it binds and flexes under load. And there is the rather
obvious but often overlooked issue of having a suspension
that is raked out at an angle that does not match the direction
of wheel travel. Modern forks are also heavy, complex, and
expensive to manufacture.

Then there is leverage. Think of the forks as a pair of crowbars

bolted to the frame of your motorcycle. The wheel wants to
travel straight up under load, but it is attached to your
crowbars (forks) at an angle to facilitate steering – the rake
angle. Every time you hit a bump, you are levering those
crowbars backwards, violently, which by the process of
leverage is magnifying the forces being applied to the chassis.
This means you need a large, stiff, heavy frame to deal with
the suspension forces being applied by that pair of crowbars
mounted to your front wheel, which must also be made large,
stiff and heavy to resist the flexing they will inevitably suffer.

Even the most rigid fork and frame assemblies, like you would
find in MotoGP, are plagued by flex and chatter issues. Dealing
with the problem has become a matter of tuning for flex –
maintaining a certain amount of deflection to act like a
rudimentary suspension at the limits of wheel travel. If that
sounds crude and barely controlled that’s because it is – tuned
flex in chassis design is as subjective as it is mysterious and it
remains a major problem in racing. Top level teams are often
attempting to balance frame flex with suspension flex, where
one will compensate for the other, all the while trying to tailor
the machines to the preferences of the individual riders.

Is your head spinning yet?

In engineering terms, there are more strikes against the

telescopic fork than there are positive points. So why do we
continue using them?

Generations of riders have learned to accept the flaws and

shortcomings of telescopic forks as the inherent qualities of a
motorcycle in motion. Reams of literature and study have
been devoted to working around the glaring issues present in
slapping a giant pair of heavy, spindly levers onto the front of
your bike that modify the suspension geometry every time you
hit a bump or touch the brakes. Pick up any road racing or
sport riding manual and a significant portion of the lessons
will be devoted to riding around the problems caused by those
damned forks. You must carefully modulate throttle in turns
to maintain weight balance and never, ever chop the throttle
or apply the brakes mid-corner lest you end up upsetting the
delicate dynamic balance and running off the road (or at least
pogoing around like a ham-fisted squid). Hard trail braking
into a turn is a technique reserved for the pros or the
foolhardy.

Why have we come to accept these shortcomings as the norm?

Why do we devote so much breath, paper and practice to
working around the flaws when better alternatives are already
available, and have been available for decades?

Familiarity is an important element. Virtually every rider on

the road have developed their skills around the flaws of the
fork. We learn the dynamics, the suspension feedback, and
how to sense the limits of traction within the system we are
accustomed to. Take away those dynamics and most riders are
out of their element – they no longer feel the same points of
reference they are used to, and will often complain about an
objectively better design simply because they are not
accustomed to it. Subjective elements come into play and
hamper progress. Conservatism begets conservatism: we are
so used to forks that we are hostile to better alternatives
because they feel alien, so we stick to what we are familiar
with and never try to progress beyond refining the existing
frameworks.
 Advertise Here

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Finally there are the considerations of mass production.

We’ve built millions of motorcycles with telescopic forks. We
have huge swaths of industry dedicated to designing,
manufacturing, fixing, and modifying them. We understand
them better than any other system by virtue of having used
Top 13 Cars of 2013
them universally for so long. Reinventing motorcycle
December 20, 2013
suspension is a tricky business when billions of dollars of
manufacturing, servicing and racing are dedicated to one
particular way of doing things. Never mind that motorcycle
buyers in general are a conservative lot who often are averse
to new ideas, particularly ones they don’t fully understand. If
you don’t believe that, spend some time reading the comment
Lamborghini Miu…
threads around any radical new model or technology
July 8, 2011
announcement.

James Parker thought there must be a better way. So he

designed one.

Parker studied Industrial Design at Stanford University. While

not formally trained as an engineer, he has a great deal of The Dirt Bike by …
hands-on experience with motorcycles. During the early January 24, 2014
1970s he ran a Hodaka dealership and dabbled in racing. He
developed a penchant for innovative design early on. In 1971
he built a 120-pound riveted-aluminum monocoque-chassis
Hodaka racer. In 1975 he developed a rising-rate single-shock
rear suspension, and incorporated it into a trellis frame design
for a Yamaha 500cc four-stroke single. Meanwhile he was James Hunt Wall…
racing RD350s at the club level and riding for Motorcyclist
magazine’s endurance racing team. January 28, 2014

During his time on the track in the 1970s Parker noted the
weak point that was common in all two wheeled machines –
their forks. While engine, chassis and tire design was moving
forward in leaps and bounds, forks remained more or less
unchanged and were remarkably unsophisticated considering
1969 Lola T70 Mk…
the power and speed that machines were achieving during this January 28, 2014
era. In the late 70s a forward-thinking solution was put
forward by the French ELF racing team and their radically
different ELF X prototype.

The ELF series of experimental racers began in 1978 when the

motorsports arm of the French petroleum company began
funding a series of highly advanced motorcycle chassis
concepts that would be campaigned in endurance racing. The
project began when ELF offered Alpine / Renault engineer
Andre de Cortanze the opportunity (and the budget) to build a
design that applied automotive suspension principles to a
motorcycle, fulfilling de Cortanze’s design goals of inherent
anti-dive, a much lower centre of gravity, and the elimination
of the traditional frame.

The result was the ELF X, which was unveiled at the 1978 Paris
Salon. Powered by a Yamaha TZ750 two-stroke four, the X was
unlike anything else on two wheels. It featured a double-link
front suspension, with single-sided wheel mounting on both
ends to facilitate easy wheel changes in endurance racing. A
lower swingarm was suspended by a single coilover shock,
while a second parallel arm supported a steered upright.
Steering was operated via a series of rods and linkages
connected to the controls.

Without the suspension forces being channelled through a

traditional front end into a steering head, there was no need
for a frame connecting the two ends of the bike together – the
crankcases served as the de facto frame, with a modest spar
bolted to either side. In his quest for a lower centre of gravity
de Cortanze saw fit to mount the fuel tank under the engine
and route the exhaust chambers over the top, predating
Honda’s ill-fated 1984 NSR500 which would attempt the same
layout in Grand Prix racing.

The X was so completely unlike anything else that it

established a new goalpost for innovation in chassis and
suspension design. The future was here. And the X was only
the beginning. A series of increasingly advanced machines
would be commissioned by ELF over the following decade, but
the X was the design that set the template for what was on the
horizon. By 1979 Honda was on board to supply four-stroke
endurance racing engines to the ELF team from the 1980
season on, establishing a partnership that would run until
1988.

Like many designers Parker was extremely interested in what

de Cortanze and ELF were doing and set about reverse-
engineering the X’s front suspension design. He began by
sketching the machine, pencil on paper being his preferred
method of de-constructing and understanding a design. After
examining the front suspension in detail he realized that
there would be one considerable flaw in the performance of
the front end: it would be affected by bump steer.

Bump steer is an undesirable result of interactions between

suspension movement and steering geometry that is far more
common in automotive design than it is in motorcycles. The
process is one where the travel of the suspension can
introduce steering inputs and deflection of the front wheels,
usually due to the geometric layout of the steering linkages, or
due to loose joints, bushings or bearings that introduce free
play into the steering system. Bump steer is always present to
a small degree in four-wheeled vehicles, but is generally
offset by the stability of the wheel on the other side. It can
affect any vehicle that uses an indirect steering linkage.

As most conventional motorcycle designs use direct steering,

where the handlebars are connected to the front suspension
and act upon it without any linkages or indirect mechanisms,
you don’t have the problem of bump steer at all. Put simply:
forks don’t bump steer. You may experience deflection of the
front wheel by a bump in the road, but that deflection is
caused by factors like flexing rather than basic geometry and
will not steer the wheel independently of where the controls
are pointing.

Take away the headstock and the direct steering and replace it
with a series of indirect linkages – like you would on, say, an
experimental motorcycle that uses a multi-link front
suspension – and you may well introduce bump steer. You can
try to mitigate the effect by carefully aligning the arms and
maintaining a constant length and parallel movement of all
the arms through the travel of the suspension, but this is
difficult to do within the tight confines of a motorcycle.
Compromises are necessary to make the handling stable.
Parker realized that the geometry and steering system present
on the X would make it prone to bump steer. He proved to be
right, and subsequent ELF designs addressed the issue.

Finding the problem is easy enough. Fixing it is another

matter. Parker’s solution was to eliminate the indirect
steering mechanism. Rather than have a series of rods, bell
cranks and joints connecting the controls to the steering arm,
he developed a direct steering link between the handlebars
and the front wheel. It would be the best of both worlds –
you’d get all the advantages of the double-link front
suspension with the steering simplicity of a conventional
fork. This idea would become the basis of his subsequent
work. With his time split between racing and building, Parker
noted that he wasn’t able to complete all of his projects.
Feeling that he wasn’t the greatest rider on the track, and that
a season on the track cost about the same as securing a patent,
he made the decision to retire from racing to focus on
developing his front suspension design.
Parker’s design was an evolution of other double-arm designs,
reworked to eliminate bump steer. The lower arm resembles a
rear swingarm and is suspended by a coilover shock mounted
to the front of the frame, with a single-sided mounting for the
wheel. The upright was considerably longer in Parker’s design
than in de Cortanze’s with the top arm sitting above the wheel
rather than fitting within its diameter. The key to Parker’s
design was the introduction of a telescopic steering column
which eliminated the indirect steering mechanism. This
column was a tube around a slider that was locked and
incapable of rotating, running on linear bearings and bolted to
the top of the upright steering arm. The column was
connected to the controls with a conventional-looking top
yoke, supported by a subframe.

An important note to address a major peeve of mine: Parker’s

design is not hub centre steered, despite dozens of articles
declaring it as such. It is a steered upright design, where a
vertical control arm turns the wheel: it falls into the same
category as Julian Farnam’s FFE 350 previously featured here
on OddBike. Yamaha referred to the system as “hub link
steering”. Calling it hub centre steering is akin to referring to
a certain suspension component as a “dampener”: close, but
completely wrong.

Parker dubbed his company and his system Rationally

Advanced Design Development – RADD. He applied for a
patent in 1982 and finished his first prototype in 1984. The
first RADD machine was built around a Honda XL600R engine
and frame, the donor bike provided by Honda USA. Once the
machine was completed he succeeded in securing a test at
Willow Springs with a young dirt tracker and Superbike rider
by the name of Wayne Rainey on hand to test the machine.

The RADD front end proved to be a success. Rainey praised the

handling and feedback of the front suspension. Honda Japan
wasn’t interested, however – at that point they were already
involved with ELF and weren’t interested in another
alternative design. The Japanese higher ups nixed the deal to
donate the XL600R to Parker, forcing him to pay for the
machine he had now modified beyond recognition. The
machine was now his and his alone, and after Honda’s rebuff
he set about canvassing the US offices of the other Japanese
manufacturers to see if anyone else would be interested in the
RADD chassis.

It was during this period that Parker met John Porter while
introducing the RADD prototype to Yamaha USA. Porter was
interested in what Parker had created and became an early
supporter of the RADD project, promoting the idea within the
US Yamaha offices. It was around this time that Parker had a
fateful idea – Motorcyclist would be celebrating its 75th
anniversary in July 1987. Parker approached his colleagues at
the magazine and asked them: if he were to build a futuristic
one-off machine using his RADD suspension, would they
feature it on the cover of their anniversary issue? Motorcyclist
agreed, and Parker set about fulfilling his promise – he had
five months to build something spectacular enough to be
worthy of the magazine’s anniversary cover feature.

John Porter campaigned the idea at Yamaha USA and

succeeded in securing a FZ750 for the project. Parker built the
chassis, modifying the FZ frame beyond recognition to
accommodate the front wishbones. The basic design was the
same as it had been on the Honda RADD, but the details were
refined and the components made more presentable. The
resulting chassis had a highly polished appearance that made
the machine look like a production effort, not the product of a
lone man in Santa Fe.

GK Design International, the California branch of a Japanese

design company, provided styling design and built the
bodywork. They succeeded in creating sharp-edged, forward
looking styling that was perfectly in tune with the innovation
of the chassis. Rather than totally streamline the machine GK
left a gap between the belly pan and the top fairing to
showcase some of the chassis modifications and accentuate
the unusual front end. The result was modern, clean, and
quite handsome. It was a far cry from the staid-looking FZ
that served as the donor for the exercise.

The resulting machine, dubbed the RADD MC2 (MC

“Squared”), was completed in time to be shown at the 1987
Milan Motorcycle Exhibition. As promised, the MC2 was
featured on the cover of Motorcyclist. It was an immediate
sensation. Here was the future, a machine that truly looked
like it was from a sci-fi feature. But this was no styling
exercise: this was a running, rideable machine that sought to
fix the problems of the front fork and make an alternative
front suspension that worked. The magazine used the tagline
“RADD/YAMAHA 750 MC2 – It’s HOT. It’s Here. It Works. We
Ride It.”

The reaction to the Motorcyclist feature was huge, and quite

unexpected. Good press and positive reactions helped propel
the project onto the international stage. The machine was
given cover space by seven other magazines. People began
contacting Yamaha directly to inquire about this wild new
concept machine, and find out if they had any intention of
producing it.

But there was a problem. Yamaha Japan was completely

unaware of the MC2. It was an unofficial project done entirely
through RADD and Yamaha’s USA office. The public and some
members of the press just assumed it was an official Yamaha
design, given the coverage and the quality of the machine.
Even Motorcyclist referred to it as the “RADD/YAMAHA”. No
independent project had received that level of coverage
before. This confusion served as an important catalyst for
Parker’s future with Yamaha.

It was shortly after the MC2 hit the press that Yamaha Japan
began working on the Morpho, a non-running 400cc concept
machine that incorporated a RADD-like suspension into an
official project. Yamaha, however, didn’t secure Parker’s
approval for the project. The Morpho was built without his
knowledge. It appeared that Yamaha was trying to usurp the
success of the MC2 and take control of the concept by making
it their own. Not only that, but the Morpho incorporated
another one of Parker’s innovations – a quick-change rear
wheel assembly. Parker negotiated a deal with Yamaha to
license his designs before the concept was released to the
public in 1989.

The Morpho proved to be a sign of what was to come, both in

terms of politics and in terms of design – Yamaha adapted
Parker’s principles but modified them on aesthetic grounds
for the Morpho, in such a way that performance of the front
suspension would be compromised. That might not have been
a problem on a static concept machine, but it would be an
issue if the suspension was ever put into mass production.
Yamaha was being rather liberal with what they thought they
could do with Parker’s design, a situation made worse by the
fact that the company did not have any front suspension
design department. Yamaha chassis engineers traditionally
had designed the machine up to the steering head, then
outsourced the fork production to contractors and suppliers.

Meanwhile Yamaha Europe was clamouring for a new

machine, a high specification sport tourer. The brief was that
the bike had to have antilock brakes, fuel injection, and a
catalytic converter, and preferably a new suspension. The
requirement for a new suspension was translated into a
demand for the RADD chassis. This brief, known internally as
project 069, would become the genesis of the Yamaha
GTS1000.
Given his difficulties in dealing with Yamaha, Parker decided
to hire a Japanese/American consultant. Glen Fukuda became
Parker’s liaison with the company and a critical part of his
relationship with the company. Parker learned early on that as
a non-Japanese outsider, he would never be fully accepted
into the company and given the proper level of input. Fukuda
smoothed things over and allowed a greater level of
discussion, but Parker was never entirely at ease. He didn’t
feel like a full member of the team, despite being critical to
the adaptation of the RADD suspension to production. He was
kept out of the workshops and only allowed to speak to higher
ups. He dealt with executives and high-level engineers, but
never the people who were actually building the prototypes.
He is a hands-on guy, a builder as well as a designer, but at
Yamaha he wasn’t allowed to speak to the people who were
actually spinning wrenches. There were incidents where he
was presented with prototypes in a boardroom, with no tools
or technicians on hand to remove the bodywork so he could
examine the components. He had no input on the styling,
marketing or features of the machine. His design was licensed
and he consulted the company as best he could, but he was
kept out of the nitty-gritty elements of the design process.

It was during this process that Parker noted a problem. Like

on the Morpho the swingarms had been made unequal length
for packaging reasons, mainly so that the upper arm would
clear a radiator mounted in the conventional location. If you
compare the MC2 with the GTS you will note the significant
difference in the geometry of their front ends. Making the
upper arm shorter would bring the top of the steering upright
backwards as the wheel rose. The top pivot would move
backwards more than the lower one, rather than both rising
straight up in parallel. The rake and trail of the front end
would thus increase, causing the steering to get heavier.
Parker was aware of this problem and had designed his
suspension accordingly, but Yamaha had missed this in their
quest for “better” packaging. Parker warned Yamaha of this
problem but his concerns were ultimately ignored.

The GTS1000 was unveiled in 1992 to widespread amazement.

Here was the future, in production form, available at your
friendly local Yamaha dealer. A series of (sometimes corny)
television ads were released to announce the death of the
telescopic fork, now that Yamaha had introduced the future of
suspension design – yours for $12,999 USD.

The engine selected for the GTS was the well-regarded 1002cc
20-valve four cylinder taken from the second generation
FZR1000 EXUP. The double-cam, five-valve head was a
signature of Yamaha from the mid 1980s right up until they
dropped the idea in 2007. While the FZR had a reputation for
being a ferociously fast and obscenely powerful superbike, the
GTS needed a smooth and powerful engine that befitted its
high-speed sport touring goal. To that aim the 75.5x56mm
mill was heavily neutered to boost midrange and “detune” the
top end. It had reworked heads, tamer cams, and a much lower
compression ratio (10.8:1 instead of 12:1) that lopped about
40hp off the top, for a grand total of 100hp at 9000rpm and 78
lb/ft at 6500. An entire generation of hot-rodding oddball
sport touring riders have been thwarted by the significant
modifications – it takes a lot of work to bring a GTS back up to
FZR levels of ludicrous power. The FZR’s five-speed close-
ratio transmission and chain final drive were left unchanged.
The Mikuni carburettors used on the FZR were ditched in
favour of a closed-loop Nippon fuel injection. The four-into-
one exhaust system featured a 3-way catalytic converter, the
first for a motorcycle and a feature that wasn’t standard on
two-wheeled machines until well into the 2000s.

The finished GTS chassis was unlike anything else in

production. Because there were no suspension forces being
channelled high into the headstock, the GTS used a low and
sleek “Omega” frame, so called because it resembled the Ω
symbol in profile. The pivots of the front and rear swingarms
were connected via an alloy spar on either side of the
crankcase, braced with additional beams running beneath the
engine on either side. Removable panels allowed for easier
access to the engine for maintenance. The steering column,
upper wishbone, and rider controls were supported by a
tubular steel subframe hidden under the bodywork. The rear
suspension was conventional, with a beam-spar alloy
swingarm and a rising rate monoshock linkage (Monocross in
Yamaha parlance). The GTS1000A (and all North American
market GTSs) featured electronic ABS, which was still a long
way from becoming standard fitment on motorcycles.

The real party was at the front, where the wheel was
suspended on an alloy swingarm with a linear-rate shock
offset to the left of the bike. The steering upright was angled
back and connected to the parallel upper swingarm that was
tucked in behind the bodywork. A telescoping steering column
sheathed in a rubber gaiter connected the upright to the
controls. The front wheel used a single-sided mount with a
single 330mm brake disc mated to a huge six-piston caliper
designed specifically for the GTS. The result was truly unlike
anything else that had ever been put into production. You
could (and still can) spot a GTS a mile away when you saw that
peculiar front end, C-shaped frame, and three-spoke front
wheel.

By modern standards the styling was relatively conservative

but in 1992 it was quite polarizing. It was either handsome or
ugly depending on who you asked. The appearance erred more
towards “sport” than “touring”, as did the seating position.
Wind protection was helped by a tall windscreen but
hampered by a narrow profile by fully-enclosed bodywork
ahead of the rider’s knees. Two sizes of Krauser hard bags
were available as a cost-extra option. The lack of a frame
above the engine cluttering things up allowed for the
placement of a small luggage compartment above the fuel
tank and airbox.

Reviews were mostly positive, most noting the stability of the

chassis and the lack of brake dive, but there were a few issues.
The most common complaint was the price – despite the high
specifications and RADD front end, $13,000 for a motorcycle
in the early 1990s was a tough pill to swallow and forced
inevitable comparisons to less expensive “conventional”
machines from other marques. There were a few niggling
points that dedicated touring riders noted: the relatively small
20 litre fuel tank (and high fuel consumption) which limited
range, the chain final drive instead of a low-maintenance
shaft, the lack of wind protection and significant buffeting in
the cockpit, and the lack of standard luggage. Riders who
hoped for an FZR with a fancy suspension and comfy seat were
disappointed by the heavily detuned motor which didn’t seem
to gain as much midrange punch as it lost in eyeball-
flattening top end. The GTS was also heavy, weighing in at 550
lbs dry. It was quick and handled well, but it wasn’t going to
blow away superbikes on the backroads. A few people
wondered aloud why this was better than the cheaper, faster
and much-loved FJ1200.
To the GTS’s credit, many noted that high-speed stability was
excellent and you could trail brake without upsetting the
chassis or overloading the front wheel. But most reviews
complained of heavy steering and vague feedback from the
front end, particularly during low speed manoeuvring, just as
Parker had predicted. It resulted in a disappointing feel that
made the already heavy machine seem even more
cumbersome. Some thought it was due to conservative
engineering in the unproven front end, erring on the side of
slow and overbuilt to keep things safe. Many unfairly
attributed these characteristics to the RADD front end and
ultimately Parker himself, unaware of how Yamaha had
messed up the execution. The general attitude was that the
GTS was undeniably different, but it wasn’t worth spending
several thousand more put the motorcycle of the future in
your garage. The performance of the GTS front end didn’t
inspire many to enthusiastically abandon the telescopic fork
as had been hoped. It was good, but not good enough to unseat
long-standing tradition – and in the minds of reviewers and
buyers, it was not good enough to justify the significant price
premium it commanded.

Sales were so poor in the North American market that the GTS
was pulled from showrooms in 1994. It continued to be sold in
small numbers in Europe until 1999 but never became
anything more than an expensive curiosity, a cult bike that
earned a loyal following but was generally forgotten by the
motorcycling public. Some interesting attempts at racing
what was ostensibly a touring machine were made. An
attempt was made to race a heavily modified GTS at the Isle of
Man TT in 1994 – the machine ultimately placed 8th in the F1
class and was noted for dragging its front swingarm through
left-hand turns! American Roadracing editor Brian Catterson
built a GTS, which he nicknamed Shamu, to compete in AMA
SuperTeams endurance racing in 1995 – you can still order the
racing bodywork made for Shamu from Airtech.

Despite the hopes of all involved, and the heavy-handed

death-of-the-fork marketing done by Yamaha, design
conservatism and the maintenance the status quo continued.
Tradition was reinforced by the GTS rather than mitigated by
the innovation it displayed. While it had a loyal fanbase, the
machine was generally regarded as a failure and was pointed
to by the public and manufacturers alike as an example of why
alternatives to the fork were untenable and undesirable. By
trying to break out of tradition, Yamaha had inadvertently
reinforced it. “We can’t do that. Look at what Yamaha did –
you saw how things turned out for them.”

But hindsight isn’t always 20/20 – it is unfair to blame the

failure of the machine entirely on the suspension, because
that wasn’t the case at all. The front end was one of the high
points of the machine even if it wasn’t a major breakthrough
in terms of performance (and the function was compromised
by Yamaha’s meddling). The failure was more due to the price
point, the futuristic styling, the weight, and the odd
marketing. It was a machine that didn’t quite fit into the
category it was aimed at. It targeted well-heeled veteran
touring riders, but didn’t offer any of the characteristics they
needed. It aimed to sell the future to older, more conservative
buyers.

The real victim of the failure of the GTS1000 wasn’t Yamaha.

It was James Parker. His name would become directly
associated with the GTS and his RADD design would be
unfairly critiqued through the sales failure of the GTS. Even
with the less-than-ideal geometry the RADD was a sound
design and worked better than any befork’d machine it was
tested against. The GTS worked quite well despite the flaws in
the execution, a fact that has been forgotten in the years since
it was discontinued. Negative press and harsh criticisms have
a tendency to bubble to the surface of the recollections of the
average person. Few have remembered the good points.

Despite the poor reception of the GTS, Parker didn’t abandon

his design and set about refining his ideas in the mid-1990s.
In 1995 he built the RATZ, with an updated RADD chassis built
around a Yamaha TZ250 two-stroke engine. Ironically when
he applied for a new patent Parker was rebuffed by the patent
office for infringing on the Yamaha patents filed for the GTS –
once he demonstrated that the Yamaha system was based on
his earlier patents all was cleared up.

The front wishbones on the RATZ were heavily curved and

tucked up high into the bodywork to ensure good ground
clearance and to further centralize the mass. The frame was a
machined alloy Omega spar with a beam subframe supporting
the steering head and shock mount. Everything outside of the
motor was developed and built by Parker, including the
single-sided rear swingarm with a special non-eccentric chain
adjustment to maintain a constant ride height when setting
the chain tension. Other innovations included a twin-disc
setup within the front wheel hub (a single carbon disc was
tested as well) and a rear-mounted radiator fed by two air
ducts that ran the length of the bike. Parker refers to the RATZ
as an interim machine, one designed “quickly” after the
release of the GTS to improve upon his initial patent and apply
a few new ideas. It was the first chassis that he built in its
entirety without modifying an existing machine. He initially
anticipated support from Yamaha but when that didn’t
materialize he was forced to build the machine out of his own
pocket.

That was effectively the end of his relationship with Yamaha,

and a wake up call – he notes that in later projects he “didn’t
have the same delusions” of getting official support from any
manufacturers. Parker points out that during the
development of the GTS there were two distinct camps within
Yamaha – pros and cons. When the GTS failed to sell well “the
cons won” and there was little desire to pick things up and try
again. Parker came away from his experiences with Yamaha
feeling alienated. He knows firsthand what goes on inside the
Japanese companies, having seen the class structure and
xenophobia that lurks beneath the surface. Despite this
difficult experience he remains proud of the GTS and is quick
to defend the design – and yes, he owns one himself.

In 2006 Parker began working on his fourth prototype and

third revision of the RADD design which applied all the
lessons he had learned over the past 20 years. He purchased a
2006 Suzuki GSX-R1000 and rebuilt it into what he calls the
GSXRADD P3 (for Patent #3). The main spars of the frame are
cut off, leaving only the lower mounts around the swingarm
pivot. Skeletal milled alloy supports bolt to the front of the
engine and serve as the mounting point for the front
suspension. The radiators are mounted flat under the fairing
on both sides to allow clearance for the new front end –
cooling is actually improved over the stock setup. The lower
swingarm, steered upright, and frame plates are CNC milled.
The upper wishbone is fabricated from steel tubing, as is the
front subframe supporting the upper end of the shock,
steering mechanism and controls. Front suspension is via an
adjustable Ohlins TTX36 coilover shock. The stock brake discs
and calipers are mounted in parallel on the wheel hub, set
inside a custom single-sided front wheel. A custom carbon
fibre fuel tank places the fuel in a lower and more centralized
position.

All told the front suspension is 13 lbs lighter than stock, with
an additional 9 lbs shed with the new fuel tank, and the mass
was centralized considerably versus a telescopic assembly. In
spite of the extensive modifications and the substantial cost
of the project, the front suspension is relatively simple and
would lend itself well to mass production.

With the bodywork on there is little to suggest this is anything

other than a normal GSX-R, until you notice the single-sided
front wheel. The controls are in the stock position and
nothing except the frame and front end is modified on the
machine. The rake, trail and wheelbase values are identical to
the stocker. Parker even engineered a modest amount of brake
dive into the design so that it would feel familiar to riders
accustomed to telescopic forks. It is ironic that Parker felt he
needed to tune his setup to mimic the characteristics of a
conventional fork to put riders at ease, but it proved to be a
way to inspire confidence in testers who might otherwise be
put off by the unique and unfamiliar dynamic qualities of a
forkless motorcycle.

Provisions were made to accommodate a steering damper, so

that all the variables and geometry are as close to the stock
GSX-R as possible. The whole project is designed to allow
direct back-to-back comparison with a stock GSX-R so that
riders can immediately note the improvements over the stock
setup. This was how the GSXRADD was shown in 2008, when
Parker offered it up for testing at the Sandia Motorsports Park
in Albuquerque, New Mexico, close to his Santa Fe home and
workshop. A standard 2006 GSX-R1000 was offered for laps
alongside the GSXRADD so that riders could directly compare
performance.

All the testers noted that the system worked remarkably well,
offering extremely light and precise steering that made the
bike feel smaller than it really was. The steered mass of the
RADD front end is much less than that of a forked machine,
with only the wheel, brakes and steered upright moving rather
than the entire front suspension. Stability was exceptional,
even when the steering damper was removed – where the
stock bike would be dangerous without a damper the RADD
didn’t need it at all, despite sharing identical suspension
geometry and tires. Feedback was noted as excellent, clearly
better than the stock machine. Some minor issues were noted
when the system was pushed hard during initial testing but
they were quickly corrected, and overall the system worked
remarkably well. Plans were begun to offer the conversion to
the public for $50,000 USD.

Parker notes that since the financial crisis of 2008 the climate
has changed considerably and interest in his design has
waned. The economic meltdown put all of the marques into a
conservative contingency mode and the inquiries into the
RADD stopped. At this point Parker would like to discuss the
matter with BMW: he thinks that they would have a better
understanding of what he is trying to do, given their singular
adoption of alternative front suspensions, and they might see
the advantages of the RADD suspension over their current
Duolever (nee Hossack) design.

Parker genuinely believes that his design is the best

alternative to the fork out there, and the best front
suspension possible for a road-going motorcycle. He just
needs to convince the manufacturers and the public of this
fact. He notes that the automotive world seems to be far more
receptive to advances in design and engineering compared to
the motorcycle industry, where we have spent decades
rehashing and refining the same old designs without making
any significant breakthroughs. We haven’t moved as far away
from the concept of a bicycle-with-a-motor-attached as
we’ve been led to believe. This is a common sentiment among
those who are trying to do something different, something
better. Despite appearances of progress, conservatism reigns
supreme in motorcycle design – a fact made worse by a poor
economy.

In recent years the GTS1000 has received a revival among

riders seeking a unique and innovative sport touring mount.
In December 2006 Britain’s Bike magazine declared the GTS
their number-one pick for “Coolest Rare Bike”, noting:

“The Terminator films were still current when the GTS was
launched and the single-sided front end had a firm futuristic
look to it, blending into the clean, uncluttered, enclosing
bodywork to give a glimpse of the biking in the future.
Unfortunately the alien appearance, frankly excessive weight
and a steep asking price limited sales – but they don’t matter
one iota today. This is still ground-breaking and courageous
engineering, with form following function and a fresh
approach to design. The fact that it wasn’t the redefining
success Yamaha had hoped for even adds to the appeal today,
making it as cool for being a valiant failure as for being
exclusive or irregular.”
Today the GTS has become a modern classic, an unusual and
rare machine that has received far more praise than it ever did
when it was still in showrooms. A new generation of owners
are discovering the GTS without the stigma of an exorbitant
price tag turning them away or inspiring unfair criticism. The
styling has aged well, the engine is extremely reliable, and the
front suspension proved to be very well engineered and nearly
maintenance-free in the long term. Owners have become very
proud of their unique machines and there is a strong support
community for the GTS. It has become a cult classic, a
motorcycle to watch in coming decades as demand creeps up
for the few examples that remain on the road.
James Parker continues to operate out of his Santa Fe home
and still writes for Motorcyclist. His most recent
accomplishment was designing the chassis of the very well
received Mission R electric superbike , whic was chosen as one
of Time magazine’s 25 best inventions of 2013. The possibility
of using a RADD front end on the R was discussed, but not
pursued due to the engineering limitations of a small start-up
company. The RATZ was recently exhibited at the New Mexico
Museum of Modern Art as part of the exhibit 14,000 years of
New Mexico Art, where it shared space with 12,000 year-old
Clovis arrowheads and one of Robert H. Goddard’s rocket
engines. Parker still holds hope that someone will adapt his
newst RADD design for mass production. The difficulties he
faced with Yamaha and the lack of follow up to the GTS project
hasn’t deterred him from canvassing manufacturers and
hoping that someone will be willing to take a risk, in spite the
poor economic climate. Despite the setbacks he has faced
Parker remains focused on his goal of creating the best front
suspension design possible, something he believes he has
achieved with the P3.
See more images here on Odd Bike.

Interesting Links

Motorcyclist on the GSX-RADD

Ultimate Motorcycling on the GSX-RADD

GTS1000 Launch article from 1992

Yamaha GTS1000 Club Forum

Yamaha GTS1000 documents and press material

Yamaha GTS1000 press release

Motorcycle Specs GTS1000

Motorcyclist “Smart Money”

A rather critical review of the GTS1000

Alan Cathcart on the ELF experimental racers

RADD P1 Patent

Yamaha GTS Patent

RATZ P2 Patent

GSXRADD P3 Patent

Mark Gardiner on the Mission R

Overview of alternative front suspensions including RADD

Tony Foale’s “Steering for the Future”

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