I had the choice of an immaculate, low mileage Suzuki 650 Savage or an old Harley with knocking main bearings. My heart wanted the American Iron but my brain said go for the Suzuki as it wasn't just going to be a weekend toy but also a daily commuter. I had a couple of rides on the Harley - felt horrible but full of character - and almost went for it. Then the LS650's owner said I could have it for 1500 notes rather than two grand if I wanted to do the deal that day, so that was that.
The LS's a 650cc thumper in a custom chassis. The engine makes loads of torque, the chassis is relatively lightweight and the overall package is quite impressive on the road. But? Well, it's not a Harley, is it? Commuting on a chopper is quite relaxing. Couldn't weave through the smaller gaps, despite its general narrowness it's also very long. The motor would thud away in top gear at about 15mph and still pull when the throttle was slowly opened, gaining momentum as 30mph was reached. 80mph was the most I did, the airstream wanted to grab hold of me and tear me off the machine.
Three weeks into ownership, my yearning for an Harley at its height, I managed to radically shorten the wheelbase of the LS. One of those red Post Office vans crossed my path without any warning. I felt the forks buckle and whip about as I applied massive, desperate force to the brake lever, but to little effect. Hit the side of the van we did. The elastic forks took most of the shock, I merely thrown a couple of feet off the seat rather than over the bars. I landed on the tank, battering a very sensitive bit of my anatomy, letting loose an involuntary yowl.
'Sorry mate, I didn't see you,' was the far from original refrain from the van's driver, who compounded his sin by bursting into laughter at the expression of pain written deep in my face. The plod turned up before I could figure out a suitable revenge - the van had only the mildest of dents - the usual hassle with doc's ensued, they disappointed that I had all mine on me! I suggested that the least they could do was book the van driver for dangerous driving but they just looked at me as if I'd crawled out from under a rock. The biggest cop bore down on me, told me I wasn't injured, was I (like hell, I couldn't walk properly for days afterwards), therefore no need to get them wasting time on paperwork, was there? His mate was frantically trying to tear various cycle parts off the Savage, so I thought get out of there before things turned even more desperate.
One of the worst days of my life. Pushing a buckled motorcycle two miles whilst my swollen groin screamed in agony every step I took. My bad luck couldn't last, could it? A few days later I approached the local Harley dealer about HP and a trade-in deal. He wouldn't touch even a straight LS with a barge-pole - 'I'm not having one of those horrible things in my showroom, boy!' - and my credit rating was on a par with an Indonesian bank.
Red of face, black of mind, and broken of heart, I went home, pulled off the LS's forks and took them to the local mechanic who had straightening gear. He reckoned there was a fifty-fifty chance of them snapping and, of course, they did! He still charged me thirty quid! Phoned about twenty breakers before a front end turned up, was sent COD. Came two days later but the forks had the telltale marks of being straightened - they had cost 120 notes! I phoned the breaker, made all kinds of threats, but the reality was that there weren't any better ones on offer anywhere.
Strangely, the front wheel wasn't buckled, so it wasn't a total disaster.
The reassembled machine was put back to work in the commuter bump and grind. No real problems, I kept my eyes open and my hand on the brake lever! You never know what these cagers are going to do, do you? If the bike had been six inches shorter, it would've been ideal for hacking through traffic. The motor and riding position certainly gave a very relaxed ride.
On the bad side, the guards threw up huge amounts of road grime; on the good side, it came off easily and the finish was the best I've experienced on a Japanese bike. Heavy rain made the bike stutter occasionally but the big thumper never conked out completely - a mudflap would probably have totally eradicated the problem, but there was no way of fitting one without ruining the looks of the front end.
Harleys were beginning to fade into the back of my mind, the Savage giving out lots of good vibes, when, after two months of rainy weather, I discovered that the fork seals were blown. Didn't make much difference to town work, but take the bike on a weekend outing, any kind of serious speed had the front end wobbling away fiercely. Short-lived seals aren't inherent to the design, although they are open to all the crud, more a function of the front forks being straightened out.
New seals fitted, I added plenty of grease and hoped for the best. Winter was starting to close in, the Savage leaving me stuck out in the freezing airstream and an easy target for a soaking through from the sudden downpours. I've never ridden a bike on which my hands and balls got so cold and wet! I think I ground about 3mm off my teeth by the time February was breeched!
Customs have odd steering geometry, not well suited to slippery English roads, but the Savage also had a reassuringly low centre of gravity and actually felt safer than some more sporting bikes I've owned - at least at low speeds on winter roads. Bottom line, I never fell off even in atrocious conditions - like black ice and a howling gale to my side. The finish stood up equally well, just a bit of alloy rot that cleaned up without too much effort.
Thumping along slowly, the vintage charm of the steed was matched by vintage economy - the best I ever managed was 75mpg, 70mpg no great hassle. More spirited riding would take that down to as little as 60mpg, but still pretty good by the pathetic standards of modern machinery. Consumables, in 9000 miles, didn't appear to wear at all - gentle riding pays off! It's one of the few Japanese singles that does actually behave in its power characteristics like an old fifties British relic and would make a brilliant retro if installed in a street chassis.
After a bit less than a year's ownership I was ready for a change - yes, I wanted a Harley. By then I had a better job and was able to sign up for the dreaded HP. I phoned around half a dozen Harley Davidson dealers until I found someone who didn't turn his nose up at the Savage and gave me a good trade-in deal on a newish 883 Sportster.
Seventh Heaven? It took a few weeks before I became used to the new bike's ways, felt a bit like a two-wheeled tractor after the Savage, but I've got the hang of it now and can't get enough. The Suzuki is a good stepping stone on the way to Harley nirvana but can't compare with the real thing! Put the engine in a sensible chassis and I'd love to have one as a second bike for my serious motorcycling.
T.Y.