Superbike is what we called it but Frankenbike is a more apt description of the equipment we rode in that newly formed AMA racing class in 1976. Superbike was a rollout of the AFM's Superstreet class. Superstreet was cool: There weren't many rules, so the class was a tuner's delight. Chief among them was Hideo "Pops" Yoshimura, who opened up shop in the San Fernando Valley with his wife Naoe and, later, his son Fujio.
My role in the creation of the Superstreet class was as an AFM board member. Once the idea was brought up, I lobbied heavily for it. As did the eventual champion of Superbike racing, Steve McLaughlin, who not only persuaded the AMA to take on the class, but went on to establish World Superbike.
At that time, professional racing was exclusively populated with purpose-built machinery. We were barely out of the era when roadraces were won on 750cc Harley-Davidson twins, BSA and Triumph triples and even 350cc Yamaha two-strokes. The new era of the two-stroke Kawasaki H1 and H2 triples and Yamaha TZ750 fours was upon us in the premier Formula 1 class. With no four-strokes, it got pretty smoky on the starting grid!
I lucked out: Pops Yoshimura let me ride one of his brutally fast Kawasaki Z1s in the AFM Superstreet class. What a beast! Pops' bikes made about 125 horsepower. Unfortunately, the chassis was designed for the stock 82 bhp. Virtually every frame section felt as though it was a hinge. Rarely would it go where it was pointed.
I began building my own bikes and graduated to the Superbike class in '76. As each race weekend progressed, there was mysterious and serious deterioration in the already poor handling. We blamed everything under the sun until I discovered that the stock Z1s' steering heads were as much as 3/8th of an inch off-center. The bikes went left pretty well but wobbled like hell in rights.
Pops started to get into Suzukis, but kept helping me with engines and parts. I had the help of a very bright young tuner, Pierre DesRoches, and a company called Racecrafters and the Vetter Fairing Company. However, I built and maintained my own bikes.
Luckily, we were allowed to gusset the frames for strength, and gusset we did. We cut off the steering heads and welded them back on in the center, along with a dozen or so pieces of frame tubing. This was a huge improvement, especially since we started getting close to 140 bhp. Bits and pieces like fork braces, from anything we could dig up, were grafted on to help.
One of the weakest parts on that bike was the swingarm. Since assembling and disassembling the bike was like my life's work at the time, I decided to pull the swingarm and change the bearings. Setting it down afterwards, I noticed that only one end touched the table. One side had twisted up more than a half-inch from the bike's power! That was why the handling deteriorated the more it was ridden.
Needless to say, maintenance was a nightmare. I once calculated how many hours I spent working on my racebike compared to how many I rode it. 100:1 was the ratio. Everything needed tinkering with after every race. I've hardly touched a wrench since retiring from racing in 1980.
Working on and riding my own bike; hustling as much sponsorship as possible; driving the transporter to the nationals; club racing for practice (there were no track days then); being a husband and a father of a 7-year-old; and training riders in the off-season was a fantastic adventure. I managed to finish top 10, a few top fives and landed in the winner's circle once through those formative first four years of Superbike racing.
Today when I ride a box-stock 600, I can't ignore the fact that, based on lap times, it easily would have won any Superbike race I entered back then-and even through the '80s-at a tiny fraction of the hours and cost. What the Superbike class actually did was usher in trickle-down technology. Frankenbikes are a thing of the past. Unless you race vintage, you will never have to go through that torture-or labor of love. Buy a sportbike-any sportbike-go to the track and enjoy it. End of story.