One of my mates was taking a month long holiday in Cuba (alright for some) and demanded that I look after his VN1500. The alternative was leaving it shackled to the railings outside his fourth floor flat. No way it would fit in the lift and certainly no way I was going to help him push 550lbs of watercooled vee twin up the stairs. I had to promise, on pain of a vicious beating, not to take the Harley imitator despatching.
Take it despatching? I chortled, trying to direct the head high bars with a semblance of accuracy. Thud, thud, thud, the torque seemed to roar in from tickover revs, a great wave of energy that strained my arms, churned my guts and brought a wide, wide grin to my face. 5000 revs was more than enough, this was a narrow angle vee with a lot of vibration trying to get out, especially with the massive slugs of pistons powering the 1500cc leviathan.
The only way to connect an engine of this mass and capacity to the back wheel is by shaft drive, I consoled myself, after suffering the embarrassment of a false neutral as I tried to snick up to second gear. The best thing that could be said about the gearbox was that there were only four ratios and that once into fourth and out of town there was hardly ever any need to change down. The elephant torque of the engine is mightily impressive, so much so that I didn't really worry about the less than perfect gearbox.
With just 70 horse from 1500cc, the engine is exceedingly lowly tuned and as low revving as a Harley - from a distance it's quite easy to mistake the Kawasaki for the American iron, as the radiator is slimline and the barrels finned. The first time I parked up in town some young lady nearly swooned, under that mistaken impression and I did little to dissuade her of the notion.
The clock read only 4500 miles, which for a watercooled Kawasaki is just run in. The motor was quite noisy but ran perfectly, with no carb glitches and moved with all the steadfastness of a steam engine. That I didn't have to worry about the motor, just tap into the throttle for forward momentum, was just as well because, along with most other custom cruisers, the handling was strange, sinister and savage.
It wasn't bad at low speeds, just a little on the heavy and vague side. It took me a couple of days to become used to it, to become willing to go for the narrow gaps that I wouldn't normally think twice about taking on nominally wider fours. Despite have a big front wheel there was a lack of willingness to track on the required line, quite minor road imperfections had the front wheel skipping off on an unexpected line, the bars flapping in my hands. The front end seemed both heavy and light at the same time.
The bars didn't help, giving a far from natural riding stance, that threatened the integrity of my spine and left my wrists screaming, even at low speeds in town, let alone on the wide, wild highway. Most cruisers are similarly afflicted but the mass, and its distribution, seemed to make the Kawasaki heavier going than most.....after two weeks, though, it felt like the most natural thing in the world and jumping back on to my racier bike became an agony I tried to avoid!
The VN1500 certainly ain't a fast machine. 110mph on the clock was the most I was able to achieve. That needed a most strange stance, with my head between the clocks and my hands a good foot up in the air. The forward mounted pegs were, of course, entirely unsuited to such abuse, and my legs became so cramped so quickly that I sought relief on the pillion pegs. The tank was so thrilled by this excess that it tried to vibrate apart and, for once, the silencers let loose a gravelly noise that knocked pigeons off their perches. Five minutes was the most I could hold speeds above 80mph, 70mph, with those bars, being the most practical cruising speed.
The vague steering never really went away, but a steady 70mph on a smooth motorway proved tolerable, although going any faster made the VN do a passable imitation of a Z900 on stock suspension. By the time the ton was on the clock I wouldn't have let go of the handlebars for anything.
Cornering was another matter. In town it felt okay once used to the mass and a slight tendency to fall into the bend. A couple of times I had to risk breaking a leg by dabbing down a boot to stop the heap falling over when I took a corner like I would on a 125. Slow and steady was the watchword. Turning in narrow gaps was limited by the VN's excessive length and I only had to try once, to push it backwards a bit, to realise that it was a two, or even three, man job!
It took a while to become used to the effort needed to flick her through fastish bends. A lot of its 550lbs mass is carried quite low, but the suspension always seems hard pressed when it's thrown from side to side with any amount of gusto, although after a month I have the bulging forearms of a professional tennis player. As with the straight line stuff, it was tolerable up to 70 or 80mph, thereafter it was too easy to overshoot the required line and end up testing the off-road capability.
Twin rear shocks and conventional forks are, within the context of the cruiser idiom, reasonable but they are set up more towards absorbing bumps than ensuring that both wheels remained pointing in the same direction. If it was my bike, I'd put on some proper bars and stiffer suspension; I had no intimidations that the frame had any inherent weakness, would expect these mild mods to make the Kawasaki much more useful. As it was, I never came close to checking out the limits of the ground clearance. Cowardice ruled - both of being beaten up by the owner on his return and from a total disinclination to test my body against the tarmac.
The front brake was rather too inspired by Harley myths, HD discs being renown for their inability to lose speed in desperate circumstances. I'd become pampered by modern bikes that just need a finger or two on the lever to howl the front tyre. On the VN, it needed a full grip and fear assisted muscle to haul up in time, although in the wet this lack of fierce power was as welcome as the excess of engine braking. A rear drum gave the back end a nice clean appearance but could've been a bit more sensitive; there was little hope of locking the wheel with so much mass.
The first time I rode at night was a bit of a shocker, the front headlamp would've been very impressive for an Iron Curtain hack, but for a six grand motorcycle was pathetic. After a bit of eye strain, it turned out to be safe for 40mph country road saunters and just adequate for warning other road users of my presence (the horn could've been louder, too).
After ten days, the chance to ride up to Manchester occurred. The VN was an obvious choice for a laid back A-road sortie. No haste, just a nice summer day to enjoy with a bit of fluff on the back. I checked the oil and bunged two and a half gallons in the petrol tank. It was nice not to have to worry about a chain, the lack of oil being thrown all over the place made a significant difference to the ease with which the bike could be kept clean.
The woman was quite impressed with the seat and backrest, whilst I cursed having to wear a helmet, otherwise my head would've found a nice soft spot, a natural pillow on the moll's chest. Mind you, that would've been such a distraction that I'd have ridden right off the road.
Lots has been written about the joys of low revving big singles and vees. Most of it seems to excuse mediocre, agricultural engineering that should have died an early death long ago. The Japanese are experts at producing sophisticated engineering, are often accused of killing the soul of motorcycling in the process, of making engines that are a touch too electric and bland. The VN1500's an interesting blend of advanced engineering and basic motorcycle grunt, that with the right attitude works exceedingly well.
That attitude involves riding at speeds that wouldn't trouble a sixties British twin, lining the thing up well in advance for corners and enjoying the scenery. Brief bursts of acceleration to remove erring cagers from the scene were often necessary but consisted of nothing more than opening the throttle and holding on to the bars. That great flow of torque brought a smile to my face every time.
And, yes, it was a pleasant way of doing a few hundred miles. Motorways I tried to avoid as hardly anyone runs along at a mere 70mph, and any more than that for more than a few minutes was likely to lead to a quick trip to the loony farm. The only real trauma that I suffered happened when we ran over a rough patch of tarmac at about 60mph. I wasn't expecting the sudden change in surface texture, the Kawa was so shook about that at first I thought it'd blown a tyre! Hitting both brakes with brute force saved us, but for the next couple of miles the chewed up road surface had us down to a pathetic 30 to 35mph. Even at that most moderate speed, the beast wanted to run wide in the bends.
The other thing to look out for on long runs is the fuel, which at 50mpg wasn't unreasonable for such a huge heap but it meant that come a 100 miles of happy cruising it was time to start looking for a gas station. The comfort factor was fine for that kind of mileage at the enforced low speeds we were doing, and I could've probably lasted for two times that distance without developing a serious case of piles.
With a woman on the back, there were several shopping and food stops, so it took us a good ten hours to reach Manchester from London, which was okay as I'd left at dawn and didn't end up riding in the dark. Surprisingly, we were both in excellent spirits with no nasty cramps or complaints. And believe me if the seat had been less than plush my pillion would've let me know in no uncertain manner - she still went on for hours about the time I took her on the back of a GSXR750 for half a day!
She had loads to complain about on the journey home, though it wasn't really any fault of the VN that it poured down all the way. It was raining when we left Manchester, so we had the chance to get togged up, and it didn't stop until we reached the capital. It took two hours to prove that my waterproofs were not aptly named, mainly a result of riding position encouraging the water to concentrate itself on the front of my person.
There was nothing for it but to carry on regardless, something helped by the mellow beat of the big vee and the reasonable grip of the Japanese tyres; the mass of the machine ensuring that it felt well planted on roads awash with water. Vision was so poor that only an idiot wouldn't have tried to do more than 50mph and the caged morons who shot past at twice that defy definition!
About 120 miles from home the engine started to run funny, cutting out on to one cylinder and, a little later, going completely dead. Clutch in, freewheel to the side of the road, the woman swearing like a docker at this unscheduled stop. I hoped it was something simple, like water in the electrics. I emptied a can of WD40 over the engine and switches, said a couple of prayers and tried to get the shivering fit under control. Pressed the starter - cough, cough, cough then boom, boom, boom; we were back in business.
It did the same trick on the outskirts of London, sent the back wheel into a locked up skid as there was a sudden massive mismatch between engine revs and road speed. For once, I gave thanks to the leverage of the bars and twitched the mammoth back on line, the drenched woman going into another swearing fit. Luckily, the engine caught on its own accord, so all I had to do was make it back to base on autopilot.
It was then I'd realised that my own machine had been nicked. Again! There was nothing for it but to use the Kawasaki as a DR tool, despite my fervent promises and the threat of being torn limb from limb. My appearance at the office was greeted with much hilarity, especially after I'd tried to manoeuvre the VN up on to the pavement and ended up being thrown into the gutter as it toppled over.
As anyone who's despatched in London knows, it's damn hard work hurtling a motorcycle between cages even on a lightweight cycle. The VN's a big bugger and after two hours I had to have a break. My delivery times were way down and I felt like I'd done a round in the boxing ring.
I'd soon found that the best way to ride the Kawasaki was to leave it in second, ignore the vibes and shaft chatter, just ride it everywhere on the throttle. That meant I could devote my full attention to avoiding the cages. Doing something normal, like running up on to the pavement wasn't possible, the front wheel tried to dig in, the forks felt like they were going banana shaped and the bars tried to leap out of my hands. Too many times I ended up trapped in traffic, screaming abuse at the cages at the top of my voice. By the end of the day I was a nervous wreck and completely hoarse.
None of my so-called friends would lend me a more suitable machine, so I had to hustle the wretched VN for a whole week. The poor thing was encased in grime by then with a clutch that had become a bit vehement and an engine that sounded more like a thirty year old diesel than a nearly new piece of Japanese high technology. I decided I was going to have to change my address to avoid retribution but, amazingly, all it took to put her back in order was a jetwash and an oil change, the lubricant coming out murky white and as thin as water.
I became so horrified by the near misses I was having that I bought a two hundred quid Superdream, which seemed wonderful as a despatch hack. Couldn't fault it for the first week until I became completely enraged by its lack of power. No pleasing some people.
After the DR debacle the VN, totally unfairly (but then who thinks it's a fair world?), was consigned right to the bottom of my list of desirable motorcycles and I only had one more serious ride on the thing. That was a motorway saunter down to Bristol, 70mph all the way, playing it safe in the slow lane. I tried to think cool, to get in the mood to enjoy the cycle but it didn't work. I haven't got the imagination to transform the boring M4 into Route 66, and, deep down, I don't have the patience to enjoy the cruiser experience.
The best thing about the VN1500 is the engine and its 90ftlb of torque. Installed in a proper chassis I could get very interested, but as a cruiser it seems way out of place in the UK. Like the current crop of retros, why bother when you can buy the real thing (Triumph or Ducati), when a big Harley twin can be acquired for the same kind of money, and even if it's inferior in every area no-one's going to give a damn when a hard used, hard charging 125 replica can burn these old hulks into the ground.
Dick Lewis