The big problem with the smaller Kat's was one of expectation. It looks so sharp that massive power and wild acceleration were demanded. Which meant the bike was thrashed to death by youths, who were probably annoyed by the generally lackadaisical nature of the 54hp DOHC 550cc four cylinder motor. Of course, the motor was so tough that it survived throttle madness, but the owners then switched to total neglect of the chassis...
The first four Katana's I'd seen were in varying states of decay. Each shared an elastic final drive chain, seized on brakes and heavily corroded cast wheels. Two had rotted through OE exhaust systems, the others had rotted 4-1's! The engines rattled a little but neither smoked nor leaked oil and looked like they had years of life left in them. Of the four, three had totally non-standard electrics; the one with OE equipment wouldn't run when I switched the lights on. Mileage varied from 37000 to 73000 miles and the prices from 900 to 1700 notes. I didn't bother making an offer.
The final bike I saw, I bought on the spot. Pristine and low mileage (18000 miles), the one-owner was a dream buy at 1500 notes. Just as the deal was done another biker roared up on a ratty XJ550. His jaw was down by his kneecaps after he clapped eyes on the Katana. You have to be quick off the mark to get the good deals and hold the desperation in check when looking over the dogs. The XJ owner offered me 1800 notes on the spot but knowing how difficult it is to find decent Kat's I didn't take the immediate profit.
Riding home in high spirits, the bike whirred away relentless if not shockingly fast - as well as the lack of ponies there was also as much mass as some 750 fours. The conservative steering geometry allied with the big front wheel meant it was totally stable yet didn't need too much muscle to throw through the bends. The rear shocks were Koni's finest and even the front forks felt nicely firm.
The riding position thrust the back of the tank into my groin and stretched my arms, bumache soon setting in. Women splayed out on the Kat would probably be highly orgasmic but it didn't do anything for me except stiffen up my joints. There weren't any accompanying vibes, whatever minor secondary vibration the small pistons put out soaked up by the excessive mass.
Rolling up to my house, I had to manoeuvre the Kat into a small gap. At this point I realised just how heavy and awkward was the Katana, nearly lost the plot. I just avoided breaking my leg. The centrestand was an incredible device - you had to stand to the rear of the machine, put all your mass on one foot on the prong whilst holding the back of the machine. For a moment I hovered high in the air until the bike finally rolled on to the stand. Frightening! The sidestand could easily roll the bike down on to the tarmac. Someone in Yippon taking the piss here!
Looking the bike over, I couldn't find any faults and decided I'd done very well. The next few days the GS did the twenty mile commute without any traumas, plenty of approving glances from the guys and gals at work as well as the neighbours. Car drivers took one look at the bike and assumed it was extremely powerful and not to be pissed around with.
The first weekend I did a few hundred miles of joy riding, a big circular tour of the Fens. I had one defining moment when some clown cager tried to do a handbrake U-turn! He took up almost the whole road but with an almighty twitch I got the Kat through a tiny gap. The bike didn't react adversely in any way just carried on in its normal stable manner.
Whenever I went into a corner too fast all I had to do was close the throttle, the bike would slow down and tighten up its line - again, no trauma. The old Avons went squeamish on their edges but I took this merely as a warning that the undercarriage was about to interface with the tarmac. When something dug in, the bike's composure was tested and I had visions of all its mass letting loose. But back the throttle off, things returned to normal.
The combination of safe handling and reasonable power makes the bike a good bet for someone working their way up the motorcycle game. Paradise was lost, though, as the more the bike was used the more uncomfortable it became.
Not helped along by a very grabby pair of front discs. Braking seemed fierce but stopping distances weren't that impressive. The calipers were slowly seizing up, an inbuilt feature of most Jap bikes of this era, especially the GS's. Catch it early, the calipers can at least be stripped and cleaned; wait until they seize they are usually destroyed in their disassembly. Once they go, a 5000 mile chore if you don't want to pay out for replacement parts.
Once rebuilt, the front brake was still vicious and therefore dangerous in the wet. It also suffered from a bit of lag, the lever needed to be squeezed gently to clear the water off the discs. Pads turned out to last around 7000 miles.
The final drive chain was a stringy affair that needed biweekly attention and only lasted for around 5000 miles. Even a brand new chain went west quickly. This was partly down to the fifteen tooth final drive sprocket - far too small for good chain life. The sprockets looked fine, never replaced them.
Forewarned about the exhaust system, I sprayed it with WD40 - inside and out - once a week and it didn't rot! The electrics didn't go off either, though I did 500 mile oil changes to stop the mill from overheating and doing in the alternator.
110mph top speed, it'd cruise at the ton without too many worries. 60mpg most of the time. Carb balancing at 7500 miles, checked the valves once after 15000 miles but they were perfect. Auto camchain tensioner and electronic ignition - no problems.
I did 24000 miles of trouble free biking in less than a year. When I developed piles I decided the bike had to go, The lack of comfort was the main downer. Otherwise, a really good bike!
The first four Katana's I'd seen were in varying states of decay. Each shared an elastic final drive chain, seized on brakes and heavily corroded cast wheels. Two had rotted through OE exhaust systems, the others had rotted 4-1's! The engines rattled a little but neither smoked nor leaked oil and looked like they had years of life left in them. Of the four, three had totally non-standard electrics; the one with OE equipment wouldn't run when I switched the lights on. Mileage varied from 37000 to 73000 miles and the prices from 900 to 1700 notes. I didn't bother making an offer.
The final bike I saw, I bought on the spot. Pristine and low mileage (18000 miles), the one-owner was a dream buy at 1500 notes. Just as the deal was done another biker roared up on a ratty XJ550. His jaw was down by his kneecaps after he clapped eyes on the Katana. You have to be quick off the mark to get the good deals and hold the desperation in check when looking over the dogs. The XJ owner offered me 1800 notes on the spot but knowing how difficult it is to find decent Kat's I didn't take the immediate profit.
Riding home in high spirits, the bike whirred away relentless if not shockingly fast - as well as the lack of ponies there was also as much mass as some 750 fours. The conservative steering geometry allied with the big front wheel meant it was totally stable yet didn't need too much muscle to throw through the bends. The rear shocks were Koni's finest and even the front forks felt nicely firm.
The riding position thrust the back of the tank into my groin and stretched my arms, bumache soon setting in. Women splayed out on the Kat would probably be highly orgasmic but it didn't do anything for me except stiffen up my joints. There weren't any accompanying vibes, whatever minor secondary vibration the small pistons put out soaked up by the excessive mass.
Rolling up to my house, I had to manoeuvre the Kat into a small gap. At this point I realised just how heavy and awkward was the Katana, nearly lost the plot. I just avoided breaking my leg. The centrestand was an incredible device - you had to stand to the rear of the machine, put all your mass on one foot on the prong whilst holding the back of the machine. For a moment I hovered high in the air until the bike finally rolled on to the stand. Frightening! The sidestand could easily roll the bike down on to the tarmac. Someone in Yippon taking the piss here!
Looking the bike over, I couldn't find any faults and decided I'd done very well. The next few days the GS did the twenty mile commute without any traumas, plenty of approving glances from the guys and gals at work as well as the neighbours. Car drivers took one look at the bike and assumed it was extremely powerful and not to be pissed around with.
The first weekend I did a few hundred miles of joy riding, a big circular tour of the Fens. I had one defining moment when some clown cager tried to do a handbrake U-turn! He took up almost the whole road but with an almighty twitch I got the Kat through a tiny gap. The bike didn't react adversely in any way just carried on in its normal stable manner.
Whenever I went into a corner too fast all I had to do was close the throttle, the bike would slow down and tighten up its line - again, no trauma. The old Avons went squeamish on their edges but I took this merely as a warning that the undercarriage was about to interface with the tarmac. When something dug in, the bike's composure was tested and I had visions of all its mass letting loose. But back the throttle off, things returned to normal.
The combination of safe handling and reasonable power makes the bike a good bet for someone working their way up the motorcycle game. Paradise was lost, though, as the more the bike was used the more uncomfortable it became.
Not helped along by a very grabby pair of front discs. Braking seemed fierce but stopping distances weren't that impressive. The calipers were slowly seizing up, an inbuilt feature of most Jap bikes of this era, especially the GS's. Catch it early, the calipers can at least be stripped and cleaned; wait until they seize they are usually destroyed in their disassembly. Once they go, a 5000 mile chore if you don't want to pay out for replacement parts.
Once rebuilt, the front brake was still vicious and therefore dangerous in the wet. It also suffered from a bit of lag, the lever needed to be squeezed gently to clear the water off the discs. Pads turned out to last around 7000 miles.
The final drive chain was a stringy affair that needed biweekly attention and only lasted for around 5000 miles. Even a brand new chain went west quickly. This was partly down to the fifteen tooth final drive sprocket - far too small for good chain life. The sprockets looked fine, never replaced them.
Forewarned about the exhaust system, I sprayed it with WD40 - inside and out - once a week and it didn't rot! The electrics didn't go off either, though I did 500 mile oil changes to stop the mill from overheating and doing in the alternator.
110mph top speed, it'd cruise at the ton without too many worries. 60mpg most of the time. Carb balancing at 7500 miles, checked the valves once after 15000 miles but they were perfect. Auto camchain tensioner and electronic ignition - no problems.
I did 24000 miles of trouble free biking in less than a year. When I developed piles I decided the bike had to go, The lack of comfort was the main downer. Otherwise, a really good bike!
Peter Roach
****************************************************
The Grunge brothers were motorcycle dealers - of sorts! As in, they had a big garage at the back of the house that was full of motorcycles. They bought and sold, made enough money to run a couple of CBR 9's and support large families. Somewhat lacking was the concept of guarantees, goodwill and customers relations.
If they didn't know you, their opening remarks went along the lines of who the f..k were you and what did you want? The guard dogs, fearsome beasts with plenty of wolf in them, growled in unison. Over the years, the brothers had come to look more and more like their dogs! The Inland Revenue had long given up trying to penetrate their defences...
They had one thing going for them. Cheap motorcycles. Not good, not newish, and not particularly nice. Just cheap. As someone who's grown up with big dogs I had no trouble with the canines snarling at the bit and managed to find something interesting on one trip to their back street emporium. A rotting GS550 Kat for three hundred notes. The larger of the Grunge's bumped it into life, causing a nearby cat to fall off a roof and every dog within half a mile to howl in sympathy.
He didn't need much persuading to knock on a couple of silencers in place of the rotted originals. It was only later that I found out the engine came from a different bike, the wheels and brakes from a different model and that the coated in oil chain was actually full of tight spots. Such things should be expected when going the back street route.
The rolling heap actually had a new MOT certificate and a valid tax disc. I later read in the local paper that the Grunge brothers had been arrested on forgery charges, so maybe all the paperwork was fake but the Kat was long gone by then. I rode home, expecting the thing to break down at any moment. A brief blast to 80mph showed that the engine still had some guts and the suspension was surprisingly firm for such an old heap.
Rolling up at home, it was soon apparent that the bike was dribbling oil from around the gearbox sprocket and cylinder head gasket. The chain was a total mess that didn't even want to come undone but I got there eventually, a new length fitted. Cheapo stuff that needed an adjustment every couple of days. Even newish GS's notorious for wrecking their final drives in short order. GS brakes are equally nasty so I was quite thankful to be running some later calipers and discs, though I never did suss which model they came off.
The Kat's a pretty uncomfortable motorcycle and it wasn't that surprising that the previous owner had taped several layers of high density foam over the top of what was left of the existing saddle. You couldn't see the mess if I was sitting on the bike but it somewhat ruined the lines. I should've replaced it but despite the odd looks it was actually very comfortable. If, like me, you have long arms the stretch over the tank isn't a problem and the relationship between bars and pegs is spot on.
The GS's a heavy old thing, 450lbs, though mine was probably a bit lighter as the massive cast wheels had been replaced with later, lighter, stuff, and most of the heavy downpipes had rusted away whilst the replacement cans weighed about a third of the stockers (when they hadn't rusted to an early death). Though hefty it's actually very stable, running along with a sureness that would make the devotees of most old British classics smile. Big narrow front wheel, conservative geometry and all that mass makes it more stable than most Jap's, at the price of slow steering dynamics. I felt right at home straight away.
The 50-odd horses never threatened to do anything nasty to the chassis. In fact, it was so slow I soon concluded that it was more like forty gee-gees, which equated to a top end of just over the ton. Most of the time it didn't really want to go above 90mph. The lack of speed wasn't much of a worry as my licence was close to being confiscated for past misdeeds.
The engine lacked anything that could be called a heavy powerband but was as smooth as they came (all that mass soaking up the secondary vibes?), the only intrusions some mild tapping from the top end and a bit of clutch rattle. The state of the motor's screws indicated a set of virgin engine internals. Oil consumption was heavy, down to the leaks, but I just kept topping up with the cheapest recycled lubricant I could find.
Did plenty of long runs over the summer. 200 miles equalled a pint of oil and a chain adjustment, but the rest of the plot carried on regardless. Fuel was around 50mpg but with the big tank it'd do 200 miles before I had to look for gas - long enough, by then my bum was going numb and my shoulders were getting cramped up.
Couldn't tell you how long a set of tyres lasted as I never bought new rubber, just bunging on whatever the Grunge brothers had going cheap. The Kat didn't seem to mind, remaining stable even when the carcass was beginning to show. There was loads of engine braking, much preferred over the somewhat grabby (nonstandard) discs - I tried to avoid using them and thus never had to replace the pads.
The one area I was never able to get a handle on was the corrosion. The engine alloy was all white fur, rust blistered under the frame and tank paint, and the chrome had long given up. I tried to polish or paint my way out of trouble but come the first taste of rain all the corrosion came back! Waste of time.
After a summer and autumn of fun and games, the bike was sold for 400 sovs. A worthy old slugger of a motorcycle that's probably still running to this day, if the rust hasn't caused the frame to turn to dust. Two grand needed for the low milers - worth every penny. For sure!
Kevin Blackmore
If they didn't know you, their opening remarks went along the lines of who the f..k were you and what did you want? The guard dogs, fearsome beasts with plenty of wolf in them, growled in unison. Over the years, the brothers had come to look more and more like their dogs! The Inland Revenue had long given up trying to penetrate their defences...
They had one thing going for them. Cheap motorcycles. Not good, not newish, and not particularly nice. Just cheap. As someone who's grown up with big dogs I had no trouble with the canines snarling at the bit and managed to find something interesting on one trip to their back street emporium. A rotting GS550 Kat for three hundred notes. The larger of the Grunge's bumped it into life, causing a nearby cat to fall off a roof and every dog within half a mile to howl in sympathy.
He didn't need much persuading to knock on a couple of silencers in place of the rotted originals. It was only later that I found out the engine came from a different bike, the wheels and brakes from a different model and that the coated in oil chain was actually full of tight spots. Such things should be expected when going the back street route.
The rolling heap actually had a new MOT certificate and a valid tax disc. I later read in the local paper that the Grunge brothers had been arrested on forgery charges, so maybe all the paperwork was fake but the Kat was long gone by then. I rode home, expecting the thing to break down at any moment. A brief blast to 80mph showed that the engine still had some guts and the suspension was surprisingly firm for such an old heap.
Rolling up at home, it was soon apparent that the bike was dribbling oil from around the gearbox sprocket and cylinder head gasket. The chain was a total mess that didn't even want to come undone but I got there eventually, a new length fitted. Cheapo stuff that needed an adjustment every couple of days. Even newish GS's notorious for wrecking their final drives in short order. GS brakes are equally nasty so I was quite thankful to be running some later calipers and discs, though I never did suss which model they came off.
The Kat's a pretty uncomfortable motorcycle and it wasn't that surprising that the previous owner had taped several layers of high density foam over the top of what was left of the existing saddle. You couldn't see the mess if I was sitting on the bike but it somewhat ruined the lines. I should've replaced it but despite the odd looks it was actually very comfortable. If, like me, you have long arms the stretch over the tank isn't a problem and the relationship between bars and pegs is spot on.
The GS's a heavy old thing, 450lbs, though mine was probably a bit lighter as the massive cast wheels had been replaced with later, lighter, stuff, and most of the heavy downpipes had rusted away whilst the replacement cans weighed about a third of the stockers (when they hadn't rusted to an early death). Though hefty it's actually very stable, running along with a sureness that would make the devotees of most old British classics smile. Big narrow front wheel, conservative geometry and all that mass makes it more stable than most Jap's, at the price of slow steering dynamics. I felt right at home straight away.
The 50-odd horses never threatened to do anything nasty to the chassis. In fact, it was so slow I soon concluded that it was more like forty gee-gees, which equated to a top end of just over the ton. Most of the time it didn't really want to go above 90mph. The lack of speed wasn't much of a worry as my licence was close to being confiscated for past misdeeds.
The engine lacked anything that could be called a heavy powerband but was as smooth as they came (all that mass soaking up the secondary vibes?), the only intrusions some mild tapping from the top end and a bit of clutch rattle. The state of the motor's screws indicated a set of virgin engine internals. Oil consumption was heavy, down to the leaks, but I just kept topping up with the cheapest recycled lubricant I could find.
Did plenty of long runs over the summer. 200 miles equalled a pint of oil and a chain adjustment, but the rest of the plot carried on regardless. Fuel was around 50mpg but with the big tank it'd do 200 miles before I had to look for gas - long enough, by then my bum was going numb and my shoulders were getting cramped up.
Couldn't tell you how long a set of tyres lasted as I never bought new rubber, just bunging on whatever the Grunge brothers had going cheap. The Kat didn't seem to mind, remaining stable even when the carcass was beginning to show. There was loads of engine braking, much preferred over the somewhat grabby (nonstandard) discs - I tried to avoid using them and thus never had to replace the pads.
The one area I was never able to get a handle on was the corrosion. The engine alloy was all white fur, rust blistered under the frame and tank paint, and the chrome had long given up. I tried to polish or paint my way out of trouble but come the first taste of rain all the corrosion came back! Waste of time.
After a summer and autumn of fun and games, the bike was sold for 400 sovs. A worthy old slugger of a motorcycle that's probably still running to this day, if the rust hasn't caused the frame to turn to dust. Two grand needed for the low milers - worth every penny. For sure!
Kevin Blackmore