Suzuki TL1000S – The ExhaustNotes Blog

The Wayback Machine: Suzuki TL1000S

By Joe Berk

The year was 1997 and the Ducati V-twins had been dominating magazine covers for years. Not to be outdone, two Japanese manufacturers produced similarly-configured V-twins (actually, L-twins). Honda had the SuperHawk, and Suzuki the TL1000S. I’ve always liked Suzuki better, so I went with the TL1000s. Suzuki offered the TL in two colors….a forest green with red accents; and bright red with yellow accents. For me, it had to be red.

My ’97 TL1000S, somewhere in northern Baja.

I bought my TL at Bert’s in Azusa. If I recall correctly, I negotiated the guys down to $8700 out the door, and part of that was a Yamaha 650 twin I traded in. I had bought the Yamaha used from a guy in a course I taught at McDonnell Douglas, thinking the Yamaha would be like my old Triumph Bonnevilles but reliable. The Yamaha was a bust. It was too heavy, it had cheap fasteners, the Hopper/Fonda riding stance was awful, it didn’t handle, and it lacked the low-end grunt of my earlier Triumphs.

I remember riding the TL home from Bert’s. The riding was awkward with the bike’s low bars and high footpegs, but I got used to it and I made it less punishing with a set of Heli-Bars. The Heli-Bars were slighly taller and wider (you got about an inch more in each dimension, which made a difference).

A stop for fuel in Catavina. The guys sell gasolina from bottles along Mexico Highway 1.

The TL was the fastest and hardest accelerating motorcycle I ever owned. It would wheelie in third gear if you weren’t paying attention, and it went from zero to 100 in a heartbeat. The bottom end torque was ferocious. Fuel economy was atrocious, and it had a tendency to stall at low rpm. But wow, did it ever look good. Did I mention it was fast?

My friend Marty had an Aprilia V-twin (a Mille, I think, or something like that), another bit of Italian exotica, that cost even more than the Ducati. Marty’s spaghetti-bender was more than twice what I paid for my TL. We swapped bikes once on a day ride and I came away unimpressed. My TL was faster.

Baja a few years ago. Younger, thinner, and hair that hadn’t turned gray yet. That motorcycle made me look good.

I wanted the look of a sport bike, but I’m not a canyon racer and the exotic look didn’t do anything for me once I had ridden the TL a few times. Then something funny happened. My Harley died on a Baja ride. I nursed my Harley home, parked it, and took the TL. Surprisingly, it did a good job as a touring platform. And I could ride at speeds the Harley couldn’t dream about. In those days, if there were speed limits in Baja, I didn’t know about them.

That first big trip on the TL instead of the Harley cinched it for me. I bought sportsbike soft luggage and used the TL on many rides after that. 700-mile days in Baja became the norm (I could make Mulegé in a day; the TL wouldn’t break a sweat). The only downside was the abominable fuel economy (the fuel light would come on after 105 miles), but a one-gallon red plastic fuel container and a bungie cord fixed that. It was Beverly hillbillies, but it worked. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a hillbilly (somebody’s got to shoot those road signs).

TL1000S touring. The bike was a surprisingly good touring machine.

Even with the TL’s mid-30-mpg fuel economy, I only ran out of fuel twice. Once was on the Bodfish-Caliente Road (one of California’s best kept secrets). I didn’t have my gas can with me; Marty rode ahead and returned with a gasoline-filled water bottle he hoped wouldn’t dissolve (it didn’t). The other time was on Baja’s long stretch headed south to Guerrero Negro. That road runs straight as an arrow, and I ran the TL at a surprisingly comfortable 145 mph (still well below the TL’s top speed). The TL was fuel injected and when it ran dry it was like someone shut the ignition. I poured my extra gallon in and made it to the next Pemex station. The guys I rode with were still far behind.

I had fun with the TL, but I dropped it a lot more than any other bike I had ever owned. All the drops were my fault. The low-mounted sport bars restricted steering, and once when pulling into my driveway, there wasn’t enough to keep the bike upright. Before I realized it, the bike and I were both on the ground (my first thought was to wonder if anyone had seen me). The next time the bike was in my driveway, facing slightly downhill. I started it to let it warm up, and the bike rolled off the sidestand. Again, my first thought was if anyone had seen me. The third time was more dramatic. The TL had a slipper clutch; you could downshift with reckless abandon. The clutch would slip and not skid the rear tire. It was cool, until I used it diving hard into a corner. The curb was coming up quickly and I wasn’t slowing fast enough. The slipper clutch was doing its thing, but when I touched the front brake, that was enough to unload the rear wheel. It broke loose and I fishtailed into the curb. I went over the bars, executed a very clean somersault, and came to rest in the sitting position looking straight ahead. I had been watching the Oympics on TV the day before and I remember thinking (as I completed my dismount) I could be a competitor. A woman in a station wagon saw the whole thing. She rolled down her window and I half expected to see a sign with a 10 on it (like they do at the Olympics). “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered. “I’m a gymnast and I’m practicing.” The window went up and she disappeared.

I loved the looks of the TL. Yeah, the carbon fiber was faux, but I didn’t care. In those days I was running a factory that made carbon fiber aircraft stuff and I never understood the attraction. Even with fake carbon fiber, the TL was a motorcycle that looked fast. And it was.

Suzuki only made the TL for a few years. Some guy in the UK killed himself in a speed wobble, the bike got an Internet rep as a tank slapper, and that killed sales worldwide. Suzuki had a recall to add a steering damper, but the damage had been done. Bert’s installed the damper on my TL, I couldn’t feel any difference , and my bike never went into a wobble (either before or after the recall). My hypothesis is that the UK guy rolled on too much throttle exiting a corner, lifting the front wheel with the bike leaned over. That will induce a wobble, you know. There was another recall to fix the low speed stalling issue. I guess it worked; my bike never had a low speed stall after that.

Suzuki offered a more radical fully-faired version called the TL1000R (I didn’t like its looks), but the TL-R didn’t survive, either. The engine, however, proved to be a winner. Today, 25 years later, a detuned version is still soldiering on in the ADV-styled V-Strom. I never owned a V-Strom, but I should have. Everybody I ever talked to who owned one loved the V-Strom. Me, I loved my TL.

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Phavorite Photos: Odonata Porn

By Joe Berk

You might be wondering if we are switching to an x-rated site. We are not. I just happened to be out and about with my camera when the above photo op emerged and I grabbed it. I think it is probably one of the best nature shots I ever grabbed, although I have similar one with a couple of raccoons but that’s a photo for another Phavorite Photos blog.

We were out servicing a water treatment site in California’s Yucca Valley. In those days I was lugging around a real tank of a camera: The Nikon F5. It was Nikon’s top of the line film camera when film still ruled. The camera was huge and it weighed a ton, and I compounded the felony by mounting a 180mm Sigma macro lens on it. I had ridden my Suzuki TL 1000S there (I could fit the camera and it’s lens into my tail bag). The best thing about that job was that I could combine a lot of extra-curricular into my work, like motorcycle rides and photography.

Back to the Odanata story. Odonata is the entomological classification for three groups of insects. One of those groups includes dragonflies, and the dragonflies were out in force that fine California day. And I was lucky to have brought that 180mm Sigma macro lens with me. It was perfect for the photo ops that presented themselves that day. I tried pictures in flight, but I had no luck. When the painted ladies stopped on a twig or a weed or a branch, though, I was in Fat City. I dropped the film off at our local Costco (they still sold and processed film in those days), I did a little shopping (I love Costco), and an hour later, they were ready. The photo guy told me it was very unusual to see photos this “perfect.” I took the compliment. The pictures looked good on the 4×6 prints; they looked even better on my computer.

Both the F5 and the 180mm Sigma lens have gone down the road. Digital took over from film, I went full bore into the digital world, and I found the 180mm Sigma macro lens wasn’t good for much else besides fornicating dragonflies. Today I use a Sigma 50mm macro for all my closeup work (it’s about as perfect a lens as I’ve ever used for macrophotography), and my cameras are either Nikon’s D810, the D3300, or my cell phone.

Earlier Phavorite Photos? You bet! Click on each to get their story.

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Dreambikes: ’97 Suzuki TL1000S

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered. “I’m a gymnast and I’m practicing.” The window went up and she disappeared.

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La Purisima Mission

As a New Jersey boy, our history courses in grade school and high school mostly focused on local and regional things, like the American Revolution and maybe a little bit of the Civil War, and then it was time to graduate. I grew up in the middle of a lot of significant Revolutionary War stuff, with maybe a little Gettysburg thrown in, and our class trips and studies tended to focus accordingly. What I’m getting at is I had never heard of the California or Baja missions until I moved to California, got married, and had kids. Then one day my young daughter came home from school and told me she had been assigned a mission.

“To do what,” I asked, thinking it was like getting a mission in the Army.

“San Gabriel,” she answered.

“Huh?” I was a curious and articulate parent.

My daughter patiently explained to her dumb old Dad what the California missions were. I had never heard of the missions until that day. But I’ve been making up for it ever since. I never pass on an opportunity to learn more about the Alta California and Baja missions, and it’s a story that’s far more interesting than the stuff I studied in school.

My favorite California mission, hands down, is La Purisima. It’s the best one there is north of the border. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself.

A bit on the photography first: I shot all the images here with a film camera (a Nikon N70). That’s how long I’ve been stopping in at the La Purisima Mission in Lompoc, California. It’s just a few miles inland off the Pacific Coast Highway. Surprisingly few people know of it, but if you’re planning a trip up the PCH, La Purisima is a must see destination.

This California motorcycle ride occurred as a backup to a plan to dive deep into Baja 20 years ago that just didn’t work out. Good buddy Paul flew out from New Jersey and rented a Harley in San Diego, and the plan was to ride into Baja to see the whales. That’s how it started. I had my ’92 Softail, but it gave up the ghost somewhere around Ensenada. It happens, I guess. Paul and I had to turn around and head home. No problem. I owned four or five motorcycles in those days (I was like Joe Gresh back then, with lots of hair and lots of motorcycles). We’d just park my Harley and I’d grab another bike.

Yours truly and Paul, both suffering from the two of the worst cases of helmet hair ever captured on film. I no longer have that problem. That’s the Pacific Ocean in the background.

Paul had a Harley Fat Boy he rented from EagleRider in San Diego. It was a motorcycle that worked well for this trip. It would have been cool if I could have ridden my Harley, too, but on this trip the motorcycles were a two-wheeled odd couple.

A skinny guy on a Fat Boy somewhere on the Pacific Coast Highway.

I switched over to my Suzuki TL1000S, a bike most people would think was totally unsuited for long-distance motorcycle touring. But it did the job and it did it well. I was younger then and I bent easier; I don’t think I could do a long ride on a sportbike today. The ADV style suits me better. So does a Subaru Outback, but I digress.

A tankbag and a tail pack, and oila, the TL became a touring machine.

Paul and I rode north on the 101 out of LA a bit and then took California’s 246 west from Buellton. I had been to the La Purisima Mission before and I wanted to show it to Paul. It’s not well known as a tourist destination, but it should be. The place is amazing.

A view out front showing the length of the main building and the bell tower.

La Purisima Mission (Misión La Purísima Concepción De María Santísima, or Mission of the Immaculate Conception of Most Holy Mary) was founded in December of 1787. It was a good stop and I got some great photos with my old film Nikon.

A cool front porch. It’s easy to imagine the original inhabitants seeking shade under this roof.

Another exterior view of the La Purisima Mission.

A sundial that appeared to be keeping excellent time. A friend asked what the sundial did when it was time to switch to Daylight Savings Time. That watch is the first version of Citizen’s Blue Angels GMT. It has a bezel slide rule. I still wear it.

The 2000-acre La Purisima Mission is one of only two missions in California not run by the Catholic Church, and it is the only one that faithfully recreates a complete historic mission operation.

A bit of background: La Purisima sort of fell apart starting in the early 1800s. Things were not going well for Spain in the New World and things were especially not going well for the California missions. The mission’s enslaved Chumash natives rebelled, smallpox decimated the indigenous population, Mexico won its independence from Spain and disbanded the mission system, and things generally just went to hell in a handbasket if you were the guy running the missions. The La Purisima property went through several owners. Union Oil bought the place in 1903 and then donated it to California. A huge research and reconstruction effort commenced, and the La Purisima Mission was opened to the public on December 7, 1941 (yep, the same day as the Pearl Harbor attack). Everything at La Purisima had been resurrected as it existed in 1820, including the furniture, the buildings, and even the adobe bricks made from surrounding soil.

You’ve seen the exterior in the photos above. Let’s head into the buildings to see what life was like in the late 1700s and early 1800s for the mission inhabitants.

Inside the chapel. One of the Mission’s objectives was to convert the native Chumash to Catholicism.

Another one of the rooms in the La Purisima Mission.

There’s disagreement these days about whether the Spanish mission system provided enlightenment or enslavement for the natives. The missions were intended to establish a Spanish presence in Alta California. Spain had claimed Mexico and California (and large parts of the American southwest), but they didn’t really have anyone there watching the store until they started the missions in the second half of the 1700s. The Spanish had concerns about other nations claiming the territory. Teach the indigenous people a trade, keep them busy farming and making stuff, and let’s grow it from there. It didn’t quite work out that way.

An objective of mission life was to teach leather work and other skills.

I’m not sure what this equipment was used for, but that’s okay. It means I have a reason to return to La Purisima.

The Mission’s original latrine. That’s Paul behind the curtain.

Thick adobe walls kept the inside of the Mission cool.

La Purisima is still an active farm and ranch. This rather photogenic turkey kept asking us how many days it was until Thanksgiving.

This, my friends, is a Longhorn. Like the turkey above, he had no qualms posing for us.

If you’re planning that bucket list ride on the Pacific Coast Highway, my advice is to include a stop at the La Purisima Mission. You’re only about 13 miles inland from the PCH, and it’s too grand a destination to pass without a visit. You might want to allow a couple of hours to see and photograph this marvelous old place.

Another word on the images here: I’m going to use some of them in a story I recently wrote for my favorite motorcycle magazine. I knew I had these 20-year-old images squirreled away somewhere, but finding them was a challenge. I finally found the prints, but I couldn’t find the negatives. After another hour digging through old boxes, I miraculously found them, too. I thought I’d just have Costco’s photo department scan the negatives for me, and then I thought it might be a good idea to call first and make sure the photo department was open (you know, what with Covid 19 and all). They were, and I told the photo dude I’d be right over to get my negatives scanned.

“We don’t do that,” he said.

“Yeah, you do,” I answered, figuring I was talking to a new guy who just didn’t know. “You’ve done it for me before.”

“Sir, we haven’t touched anything with film in years,” he said.

Hmmmmm. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d seen any film for sale in Costco. And it had been a lot of years since I shot anything on film.

The Costco guy suggested a small mom and pop operation across the street from the Costco store, and that’s where I went. What you see here are the results of the Photo Factory’s scans (thanks, guys!).

Time marches on, I guess.

More Epic Rides are here!

Baja Sportbike Touring in 2004

My good buddy Bryan sent an email to me earlier today asking if I still had the photos from our 2004 Baja ride posted anywhere. Wow. 2004. That trip was 16 years ago this month. Where does the time go?

Anyway, by way of background, there were three of us on that ride: Yours truly, my good buddy Marty (who you’ve seen in other spots here on the ExNotes blog), and another good buddy, Bryan. This was to be an unusual trip, as we did it on sports bikes. Marty had his K1200RS BMW (which, by the way, he still has), Bryan was on his VFR 750 Honda, and I was on my TL1000S Suzuki (which was probably the fastest motorcycle I’ve ever owned). I used to have a site called MotoFoto.cc and I had this trip posted there, but that site came down when I started the CSC blog. This trip was on the old MotoFoto site, and when Bryan asked about it, I thought I’d post it here. So here you go…the original web post from 2004!

This trip was a quick, 1550-mile, 4-day motorcycle tour from Los Angeles to Mulege in the Baja peninsula in January 2004. Mulege is about 700 miles south of the border. I shot all of the photographs on this page with the Sony Mavica CD400. It was digital photography state of the art, sort of, back in the day.

This was my fifth or sixth trip into the Baja’s interior, and I have to tell you that it just keeps getting better. The roads are fantastic, the scenery is awesome, and, well, read on.

We stuck to Mexico’s Transpeninsular Highway (Highway 1). Here’s a typical restaurant in one of the northern Baja agricultural towns. Bryan and Marty are getting ready to continue south into the Baja. Picking the good restaurants was easy…we just looked for the ones with lots of cars parked out front.

Bryan and Joe, stopped at a deserted Baja structure. Most of the Baja peninsula is very desolate.

The roads in Baja are awesome, with long, flat, high-speed straights, and lots of twisties through the mountains. It gets really desolate and interesting south of El Rosario.

We stopped for gas in Catavina, but the town’s generator was shut down for maintenance (as it is nearly every day). Marty is getting his BMW filled up the old-fashioned way. This was an adventure…real Indiana Jones stuff.

We were on our way to Guerrero Negro to see the whales. The riding was fabulous, as it always is in Baja. The TL1000S was an admittedly poor choice for touring, but it was fun.

The roads in Baja are awesome. There’s a long stretch before the Pemex station about 20 miles north of Guerrero Negro, and the road runs straight as an arrow to the horizon for a good 30 miles. I ran the Suzuki at 145 miles per hour for nearly the entire stretch as the sun descended. It was a glorious ride until I ran out of gas, and when I did, it was as if someone had shut the ignition off on the Suzuki. No sputtering, no surging, just a sudden shutdown. I was carrying an extra gallon of fuel on the TL, and that got me to the gas station.

Marty and Joe, just before getting on the bus to see the whales.

This is Victor, who talked to us about the whales on our way out to Scammon’s Lagoon. Bryan shot this photo.

Another one of Bryan’s photos, showing the boats we used for watching the whales.

One of the many whales we saw on this tour. I shot these photos, as mentioned above, with the Sony Mavica camera. It was not really too good for this kind of photography because of the delay between pressing the shutter button and the camera reacting.

On the way in to Guerrero Negro, I had been telling Bryan and Marty about this fabulous fish taco truck. They were probably tired of hearing me rave about fish tacos by the time we arrived, but when we did, wow, Tony did not disappoint us.

The real McCoy. Wow, are they ever good…Antonio’s has been selling fish tacos in Guerrero Negro for 11 years (and that was in 2004). I stop there every time I go by.

Antonio, taco chef extraordinaire…circa 2004.

Bryan is a convert. So is Marty. In fact, they both wanted to stop on the way back through Guerrero Negro just to get another fish taco.

One of the many roadside shrines erected in memory of someone who died along this route. You see these every few miles along the Transpeninsular Highway.

After Guerrero Negro, the whales, and Tony’s fish tacos, we continued south and then east, crossing the peninsula toward the Sea of Cortez. San Ignacio lies about halfway along that stretch. It’s a great place to stop and grab a few photos.

The mission in San Ignacio. This building is over 300 years old. San Ignacio is a small town just off the Transpeninsular Highway. If you are ever driving this route, you have to stop in San Ignacio to see the mission. It is one of the Baja peninsula’s most interesting areas, and every one I have ever taken there has fallen in love with the place.

The entrance to the San Ignacio mission.

A macro shot of the door to the San Ignacio mission.

The Virgin of Guadalupe, at the San Ignacio mission.

From there, it was on to Santa Rosalia and then Mulege on the Sea of Cortez. Mulege is a fun town, and the tiny Las Casitas hotel is just outstanding. The rooms were great, and the margaritas and dinners were off the charts.

We stayed at the Las Casitas hotel in Mulege, which is a hopping spot.

After we checked into the Las Casitas, we followed the road all the way to the Sea of Cortez just to check the place out. It was a cool place. It was a dirt road and the TL1000S was a handful, but it was cool.

Bryan and Marty on the Sea of Cortez. We had just driven several miles down a very rough dirt road to get to this spot. It was worth the effort.

Checking our route for the next day with the Sea of Cortez in the background.

The river running through Mulege. The date palms were introduced by the Jesuits hundreds of years ago. Mulege is one of several oases in Baja. It is an incredibly scenic spot.

Joe and Bryan, taking in the Mulege scenery.

The mission in Mulege. This building served as a prison at one point during its life. Life was so good there, though, that the convicts were released during the day to go to work and none ever tried to escape.

Joe and Bryan, with the first of many margaritas and Negra Modelos in the Las Casitas restaurant. The first of many. Actually, the first of too many.

Marty and Bryan enjoying their dinner in Las Casitas.

On our way back north, we stopped in Santa Rosalia because I wanted the guys to see it and we hadn’t really spent any time there on the way south. Santa Rosalia is a bustling fishing town on the Sea of Cortez.

Santa Rosalia has a French heritage, and all the buildings are constructed of wood. It is a colorful little town.

Here’s a shot of the stained glass windows in Santa Rosalia’s interesting, Georg Eiffel-designed church. The little Sony did a pretty good job here, with the meter set to the spot-metering mode. Like all of the shots on this page, this is a hand-held photograph.

Another of the stained glass windows in the Santa Rosalia church.

We had a pretty rough drive on our third night in Baja. All of the books I’ve read advise not driving at night in Baja, and for good reason. We rode 130 miles on a moonless night to get to Catavina. Riding at night in Baja is not an experience I recommend. The roads are not lit and it’s amazing how dark it gets out there. Then, just to make things more interesting, the white lines marking the road’s edge disappeared about 20 miles before Catavina on those winding mountain and desert roads. Throw in stray cattle and blind corners, and, well, you get the idea. We made it to Catavina safely and stayed in the La Pinta Hotel.

We stayed in Catavina on our last night in Baja at the La Pinta Hotel. We were tired and sore from riding edgy sports bikes for three days. The photo above shows us getting ready to depart just as the sun was rising, with 400 miles to go.

It would have been nice to take more photos as we continued on through Tecate, but we were tired and just after crossing the border we were caught in a rainstorm near San Diego. We waited in a McDonald’s, so that’s about it for our Baja photos from this trip.

Want to know more about Baja? Hey check out these pages!

Epic Motorcycle Rides
Baja
Berk’s Works

Want to read more about Baja? Here you go!