Kevin Schwantz won 25 500cc grands prix and one world title between March 1988 and July 1994 but his impact on the sport of motorcycle racing was much greater than that.

The American’s wild riding technique, his ability to magic victories apparently out of nowhere and his willingness to ride way beyond the limit – sometimes with painful consequences – made him a huge favourite with fans.

Schwantz simply never knew when to back down, which was as much a negative as a positive. He also spent most of his seven and a half seasons as a full-time GP rider aboard Suzuki’s RGV500, which was mostly out-performed by Honda’s NSR500 and Yamaha’s YZR500. Therefore he often had to take huge risks to race with his rivals.

Schwantz came from U.S. superbike racing and continued riding Suzuki’s GSX-R750 four-stroke in the Suzuka 8 Hours during his GP career. He also rode a GSXR-R to victory in the 1988 Daytona 200, three weeks before his debut 500 win at that year’s Japanese GP at Suzuka.

The 500s were very light and lively, so I suppose you had to be careful with your upper-body inputs through the handlebars?

In fact, what taught me that lesson more than anything was Daytona 1986, on that year’s GSX-R750. The new bike was awesome, breaking track records like crazy, then we got it to Daytona and mine wouldn’t go in a straight line to save its ass.

“The solution was to relax. Don’t get rigid on it, let it shake a bit and it’ll settle itself down.”

I was trying to lock my elbows in front of my knees to force the handlebars to stay straight – I’m not going to let this thing shake its head! The guys from Yoshi were watching. They said, Kevin, you’re too tense on the thing. I said, you go ride that thing at 170 miles an hour when it starts friggin’ shaking and tell me you don’t tense up!

But the solution to the problem was to relax, don’t try to be a part of the chassis, don’t try to make the thing rigid. Let it have its head: come out of the chicane, spin the rear a bit, don’t get rigid on it, let it shake a bit and it’ll settle itself down. By the time I’d loosened up on the bike I could’ve eaten a sandwich between the chicane to the start finish line. It was that solid.

What was the scariest thing you did on a 500?

Macau! [an Armco-lined street race in China]. And some of the passes I made up at the top of the hill at the Salzburgring [a super-fast and dangerous Austrian circuit that was removed from the GP championship after 1994].

You’re aiming at the top of the hill [a 160mph left/right/left kink between Armco and a cliff-face] and you’ve got the draft off one of the Hondas, whether it was Mick Doohan or Wayne Gardner or whoever. At that point you’re, like, man, I’ve got to make this pass here because I need to make time through the next three corners to try and stay in front until we come back up this hill again, because if I get stuck behind then it’s over.

Up the hill you’re just focused on the bike in front of you, making the name on the back get bigger and trying to work the lap to perfection so you can either get him at the top of the hill, squeezing past by the guardrail, or out-brake him getting into the horseshoe at the bottom of the hill, so you’re in front at the last chicane, so you can win the race.

“Over the top of the hill you had to wrestle the bike to the left and the thing is going all light and shaking and wiggling”

You don’t think about how fast you’re going and what the danger factor is, because if you ever did think about that, especially at those places, you were already halfway shot. Ten-foot tall and bulletproof – nothing can hurt me – is the mentality you had to have going into those places.

Then there was that pass between Alex Barros and Shinichi Itoh at Hockenheim in 1993. We were coming out of the first turn for the long run before the first chicane. It was only in qualifying, but I was like, oh my God! There’s a double draft! I got such a run on them off the corner and as I went towards them they started moving closer together. I’m, like, I don’t care – I’m going between you! When I went between them I actually cocked my shoulders a bit so I was narrower.

What about Eau Rouge and Radaillon at Spa-Francorchamps? You’re accelerating downhill out of La Source hairpin, round the fast right, then you’re aiming at the pit wall before you sweep left into the compression of Eau Rouge and uphill through Radaillon?

You were going downhill pretty damn fast into there, maybe getting off the gas just as you peeled off by the pit wall – and you were right up against the wall – no real brakes into the left, just close the throttle to get the transition over the top of the bike, through the big compression at the bottom of the hill and head back to the right as you’re going up the hill.

Over the top of the hill you had to wrestle the bike back to the left again and the thing is going all light and shaking and wiggling. Even though the bikes were only 130 kilos they were hard to change direction at speed, because all that mass wants to keep going in the same direction.

To my mind that was the toughest sequence of corners in racing, plus it was so important because right after that you had a loooong straight and it was uphill too.

The other thing at Spa was the street sections of the track. They had white lines in the centre of the road and those f**kers were slick, especially when it was wet, which it was most of the time at Spa. If you went across one of those the thing just snapped sideways.

You had a lot of highsides back then – everyone did – so can you describe a highside – the flick, the silence…

Okay, this is the one I had during at Donington, 1994, in qualifying. I come in and Stu [Shenton, Schwantz’s crew chief] says, ‘The Michelin guys say THIS is the tyre’. So I pull out of the pits and at the end of my out-lap I drop the hammer. I’m going to destroy the lap record, it’s gonna be great.

But I didn’t get enough heat into the right side of the tyre – so, into the Old Hairpin, back to the gas and it just snaps. Then it’s that big, long silence when you’re up there in the sky and the whole time you’re processing – where am I gonna land? What’s around me? Where’s the motorcycle? That last thing is what you think about the most. You’re hoping the bike doesn’t catch up to you – whether you and the bike are sliding or bouncing, both scenarios can be less than desirable.