Yamaha triples don't have the greatest of reputations. Early 750's exploded their gearboxes in a random if expensive manner and generally rapidly wore the rest of the engine out. The later 850 was tougher, lasted long enough to burn out its electronic ignition and to experience somewhat edgy handling when the chassis wore out and the shaft drive went wacky.
It's easy, then, to slag off the triples, but I've owned five of the things and love them! In some cases, I've loved them to death. I like the engine's power and exhaust note, having more torque than a similar capacity four. Not the fastest bikes on Earth, but up to a ton-ten they motor really well.
How did it all start? Not in the most encouraging of circumstances. The year was 1984, I was absolutely desperate for some cheap wheels. Amid the hordes of CZ's, MZ's and Honda Benly's on offer for less than three hundred quid, the advert for the XS750 stood out. A runner that needed some work. We all know that tune but desperation was upon me and I hustled on over to have a look.
I walked past this prime looking XS750, one of the early models, wondering where the dog was. The owner took me gently by the arm and walked me back to the bike I'd just walked past. Right, I'll have it! The clock had 36000 miles on it but there wasn't a spot of rust and the paint had that faded patina of daily polishing.
The bad news was that the gearbox was shot, only third still worked. Not quite, the other gears would engage but they made an awful racket. Such was the torque of the motor that it would pull off in third gear with a minimal amount of churning from the shaft drive and roar away up to about 80mph before the motor tried to dissolve itself from the vibration.
The old chap looked quite concerned when I handed over the wedge straight after the test ride. Even the tyres were nearly new. He asked me not to rev the mill over six grand and did I have insurance? I gave the silly old fool the thumbs up and tried to wheelie the XS out of his street. The front wheel rose by all of two inches, the back end tried to self-destruct and I wasn't quite sure which way the bike wanted to go.
No, the XS isn't the kind of bike to take kindly to juvenile abuse. It has the same kind of requirement for sane, almost stately inputs, as an old Beemer boxer. You either adapt or fall off. Took four doses of gravel rash before I came around to the bike's way of thinking - it was either that or a plaster cast if not arrest!
Riding through Central London on a mono-gear XS750 needed quite a lot of clutch abuse which left it prone to both drag and slip. The warped plates caused drag at low revs, easy to stall the motor as an alternative to doing a series of kangaroo hops - the electric boot and battery were soon complaining.
The worn state of the plates meant it'd slip above 6000 revs, ended up doing 10,000rpm and only gaining an extra 10mph. At this point, the XS hadn't wormed its way into my heart and was subjected to about six months of total abuse and neglect. The bike soon showed its real age, rust and alloy rot breaking out.
The brakes were another story, but a well know one of decay and destruction. Suffice to say, plenty of visits to the breakers followed. Any attempt to take the old calipers down inevitably resulted in their destruction, corroded solidly into one useless lump.
The motor lasted for 9000 miles before the gearbox broke up, locking up the back wheel at about 40mph. The already aged UJ's were taken out by this affront. The least of my worries as hitting on the clutch had zero effect, the bike slewing off the road and taking out a couple of cars before finally depositing me on my arse. Ouch!
The chassis was still intact so I didn't abandon ship. The cagers threatened to form a lynching party but I was saved by the cops. I felt damn lucky that I'd recently got the bike legal and had my insurance doc's to hand. The cops scowled and pontificated whilst I pretended to be cowed and tearful - they swaggered around before deciding not to charge me with dangerous driving.
How to get a locked up solid XS home? Easy. Phone my big brother who was the proud owner of an ancient Transit van. He was a keen biker and kept trying to squeeze the Ford into motorcycle sized gaps in the traffic. As the van was equipped with beefy bull-bars and an artic's air-horn he usually got his way! Mad nutter!
I knew one breaker who'd just had a crashed XS750 in. Already, the carbs and exhaust had been sold off, so I handed over 250 notes for the engine and shaft drive before some other clown got his hands on them. Most of the weight in the XS comes from the engine, nearly broke my back levering it into the frame.
I took the time to repair the past neglect of the chassis, a nicely shining bike emerging from my garage. The clock on the XS in the breaker's read 17000 miles but that gave no idea of the state of the motor - they can be just about to die or have 50,000 miles left in them.
I pressed the starter, the motor clattered away for a few minutes and then caught. Five minutes to warm up, choke off, a relatively quiet tickover at 1200 revs but off-beat in nature from the throw of the three cylinder engine's crankshaft. Sounded lovely, to my ears anyway. Blatted down the street... Yes! The gearbox crunched through the ratios in a rather agricultural manner but engaged each gear without any self-destructive noises. I didn't know what to do with so many gears!
The full range of the motor's abilities were finally explored. Cruising was possible, anywhere between 60 and 110mph, no need to play like a lunatic on the gearbox just open and close the throttle in top as the fancy takes you (and the roads allow).
The chassis wasn't too happy above 90mph, the forks and shocks too weak to take anything other than smooth roads. It wasn't terminally dangerous as in speed wobbles and tank-slappers, just felt like it wanted to let loose in a big way but never actually went further than weaving across a lane of traffic or squirming out of the bends.
A few weeks on the renovated bike, I was suddenly far gone... the XS the love of my life! Sounds odd, such an old hack and unlikely partner, but it had got under my skin and I was revelling in its mannerisms and triple cylinder character. Much time and effort was lavished on the machine, getting it up to a condition that would've made the old owner proud.
Not that the engine paid me back with sterling reliability. There were loads of minor hassles once the mileage got past 20,000 miles. Carbs wearing out, primary chain clanging away, camchain tensioner sticking, valves needing frequent attention, fuel pipe falling off, exhausts rotting, etc. They didn't happen all at once, but the bike seemed to need fettling every week! I didn't mind at the time.
By 30,000 miles, though, the engine was almost totally shot. I say almost because it was still running. It tapped, knocked, rang, clanged and pinged, wouldn't pull more than 5000 revs and was doing about 25mpg against a more normal 45-50mpg. I started looking around for a replacement motor, the bike again being somewhat neglected as I was pissed off by its reaction to all my tender loving care.
MCN turned up an 850 version, a custom jobbie, the Special. The only good thing about customs is that usually the handling's so dire the rider can't thrash them. It was way out of my price bracket but I motored on over there just for a look. An 8000 miler in good shape, I immediately started thinking about how much effort was involved in fitting flat bars and what it would be like to own such a low miler.
A test ride was allowed, the 850 having more low rev and midrange punch than the 750. It felt much smoother and quieter than my old hack. Handling was actually quite good, at least up to the 70mph I managed on the back lanes. We had a pleasant enough chat about XS's and he agreed to give me a ring if he couldn't sell it within the next two weeks.
I did the rounds of the dealers, trying to find one daft enough to give me a wedge for the 750. They varied from menacing to amused but the best I could get from them was a reasonable trade-in value if I wanted to buy something much more expensive - their ticket prices were way over the top. A few cards in newsagents' windows elicited zero response.
The 850's owner phoned up three weeks later, lamenting the lack of response to his expensive advertising efforts. The 750 plus five hundred notes and I could have his 850. I agreed immediately, that just left the massive problem of finding the wedge. The bank was finally persuaded to give me an expensive overdraft and a second job found to pay it off! Bloody motorcycles!
Well worth the effort as the 850 was close to sublime. I did the bars pronto which transformed the whole feel of the machine, felt much more part of the plot and improved the high speed running. Okay, it was gasping a bit at the ton but would eventually put 110mph on the clock. I think the gearing was altered over the 750, in favour of sharper acceleration rather than top speed. I didn't mind, the plod had gone berserk and the bike was still full of character at sensible speeds.
The 850 had a much better gearbox that was much less prone to sudden explosions. Fuel was close to 60mpg. Power delivery was much smoother with none of the minor gaps in the 750. This might have been just down to the relative newness of the 850's motor but as the mileage piled up it still ran with a coherence that the 750 never really matched. As you'd expect, some extra design and development had been expended on the bigger triple.
The handling was rather curious. Gave a strong impression of togetherness and stability below 80mph, then shuffled around in a way that was worse than the 750! Steering geometry changes to suit the custom style? Probably. A few times, above 95mph, I experienced some wicked speed wobbles, real old tank-slappers, but they died down when I slightly loosened my grip on the bars. Goes against all logic, but it works!
The suspension was soft to the point of being mushy but even after it was upgraded the bike was still prone to high speed tank-slappers! The revised riding position gave reasonable comfort for runs of up to 200 miles in a day.
This was the best XS triple I was to own! Kept it for over 75000 miles and it didn't actually break. Over the years of ownership I bought a few other XS's but they were never up to the 850's abilities.
The most interesting one was a rat-bike that had gone around the clock - at least once. Everything was coated in matt black paint, including an highly illegal 3-1 exhaust. The XS is about as far from a racing bike as you can get but that exhaust howl was right off a race track. Brilliant!
The exhaust drowned out all the racket that the engine was making, worse even than my old 750! It still motored along with reasonable elan and had enough performance in town to keep the cops at bay. On the open road it just spluttered and coughed if I tried to do more than 70mph. In the end, the whole thing was dismantled and kept for spares. I didn't mind, it had only cost seventy-five quid to buy.
The next bike was a stock 850 which had done 46000 miles but didn't run any more. The wiring was completely rotten. Once replaced, the motor burped into life, sounding like a jackhammer at idle and vibrated across the tarmac! It kept going out of sheer cussedness, the same kind of dedication to survival as a Dobberman on a thief's balls! Cost fifty quid, did 2300 miles with only fuel and oil, sold for three hundred notes.
Another 750 was next, one of the first models. A one-owner job that had never been mistreated and survived for 61000 miles. The best 750 I'd come across despite the unlikely mileage. The guy had upgraded the suspension, bought a new tank, seat and panels, powder coated the frame, fitted a stainless steel exhaust and renovated the brakes. In many respects, it was better than new.
The 750 came into my life just as I could feel the 850 dying a death, though it had a few thousand miles left. I sold the bigger triple at a profit; despite their bad reputation they are slowly moving towards classic status! Basically, I've had almost free biking for the past half decade. Can't be bad.
It's easy, then, to slag off the triples, but I've owned five of the things and love them! In some cases, I've loved them to death. I like the engine's power and exhaust note, having more torque than a similar capacity four. Not the fastest bikes on Earth, but up to a ton-ten they motor really well.
How did it all start? Not in the most encouraging of circumstances. The year was 1984, I was absolutely desperate for some cheap wheels. Amid the hordes of CZ's, MZ's and Honda Benly's on offer for less than three hundred quid, the advert for the XS750 stood out. A runner that needed some work. We all know that tune but desperation was upon me and I hustled on over to have a look.
I walked past this prime looking XS750, one of the early models, wondering where the dog was. The owner took me gently by the arm and walked me back to the bike I'd just walked past. Right, I'll have it! The clock had 36000 miles on it but there wasn't a spot of rust and the paint had that faded patina of daily polishing.
The bad news was that the gearbox was shot, only third still worked. Not quite, the other gears would engage but they made an awful racket. Such was the torque of the motor that it would pull off in third gear with a minimal amount of churning from the shaft drive and roar away up to about 80mph before the motor tried to dissolve itself from the vibration.
The old chap looked quite concerned when I handed over the wedge straight after the test ride. Even the tyres were nearly new. He asked me not to rev the mill over six grand and did I have insurance? I gave the silly old fool the thumbs up and tried to wheelie the XS out of his street. The front wheel rose by all of two inches, the back end tried to self-destruct and I wasn't quite sure which way the bike wanted to go.
No, the XS isn't the kind of bike to take kindly to juvenile abuse. It has the same kind of requirement for sane, almost stately inputs, as an old Beemer boxer. You either adapt or fall off. Took four doses of gravel rash before I came around to the bike's way of thinking - it was either that or a plaster cast if not arrest!
Riding through Central London on a mono-gear XS750 needed quite a lot of clutch abuse which left it prone to both drag and slip. The warped plates caused drag at low revs, easy to stall the motor as an alternative to doing a series of kangaroo hops - the electric boot and battery were soon complaining.
The worn state of the plates meant it'd slip above 6000 revs, ended up doing 10,000rpm and only gaining an extra 10mph. At this point, the XS hadn't wormed its way into my heart and was subjected to about six months of total abuse and neglect. The bike soon showed its real age, rust and alloy rot breaking out.
The brakes were another story, but a well know one of decay and destruction. Suffice to say, plenty of visits to the breakers followed. Any attempt to take the old calipers down inevitably resulted in their destruction, corroded solidly into one useless lump.
The motor lasted for 9000 miles before the gearbox broke up, locking up the back wheel at about 40mph. The already aged UJ's were taken out by this affront. The least of my worries as hitting on the clutch had zero effect, the bike slewing off the road and taking out a couple of cars before finally depositing me on my arse. Ouch!
The chassis was still intact so I didn't abandon ship. The cagers threatened to form a lynching party but I was saved by the cops. I felt damn lucky that I'd recently got the bike legal and had my insurance doc's to hand. The cops scowled and pontificated whilst I pretended to be cowed and tearful - they swaggered around before deciding not to charge me with dangerous driving.
How to get a locked up solid XS home? Easy. Phone my big brother who was the proud owner of an ancient Transit van. He was a keen biker and kept trying to squeeze the Ford into motorcycle sized gaps in the traffic. As the van was equipped with beefy bull-bars and an artic's air-horn he usually got his way! Mad nutter!
I knew one breaker who'd just had a crashed XS750 in. Already, the carbs and exhaust had been sold off, so I handed over 250 notes for the engine and shaft drive before some other clown got his hands on them. Most of the weight in the XS comes from the engine, nearly broke my back levering it into the frame.
I took the time to repair the past neglect of the chassis, a nicely shining bike emerging from my garage. The clock on the XS in the breaker's read 17000 miles but that gave no idea of the state of the motor - they can be just about to die or have 50,000 miles left in them.
I pressed the starter, the motor clattered away for a few minutes and then caught. Five minutes to warm up, choke off, a relatively quiet tickover at 1200 revs but off-beat in nature from the throw of the three cylinder engine's crankshaft. Sounded lovely, to my ears anyway. Blatted down the street... Yes! The gearbox crunched through the ratios in a rather agricultural manner but engaged each gear without any self-destructive noises. I didn't know what to do with so many gears!
The full range of the motor's abilities were finally explored. Cruising was possible, anywhere between 60 and 110mph, no need to play like a lunatic on the gearbox just open and close the throttle in top as the fancy takes you (and the roads allow).
The chassis wasn't too happy above 90mph, the forks and shocks too weak to take anything other than smooth roads. It wasn't terminally dangerous as in speed wobbles and tank-slappers, just felt like it wanted to let loose in a big way but never actually went further than weaving across a lane of traffic or squirming out of the bends.
A few weeks on the renovated bike, I was suddenly far gone... the XS the love of my life! Sounds odd, such an old hack and unlikely partner, but it had got under my skin and I was revelling in its mannerisms and triple cylinder character. Much time and effort was lavished on the machine, getting it up to a condition that would've made the old owner proud.
Not that the engine paid me back with sterling reliability. There were loads of minor hassles once the mileage got past 20,000 miles. Carbs wearing out, primary chain clanging away, camchain tensioner sticking, valves needing frequent attention, fuel pipe falling off, exhausts rotting, etc. They didn't happen all at once, but the bike seemed to need fettling every week! I didn't mind at the time.
By 30,000 miles, though, the engine was almost totally shot. I say almost because it was still running. It tapped, knocked, rang, clanged and pinged, wouldn't pull more than 5000 revs and was doing about 25mpg against a more normal 45-50mpg. I started looking around for a replacement motor, the bike again being somewhat neglected as I was pissed off by its reaction to all my tender loving care.
MCN turned up an 850 version, a custom jobbie, the Special. The only good thing about customs is that usually the handling's so dire the rider can't thrash them. It was way out of my price bracket but I motored on over there just for a look. An 8000 miler in good shape, I immediately started thinking about how much effort was involved in fitting flat bars and what it would be like to own such a low miler.
A test ride was allowed, the 850 having more low rev and midrange punch than the 750. It felt much smoother and quieter than my old hack. Handling was actually quite good, at least up to the 70mph I managed on the back lanes. We had a pleasant enough chat about XS's and he agreed to give me a ring if he couldn't sell it within the next two weeks.
I did the rounds of the dealers, trying to find one daft enough to give me a wedge for the 750. They varied from menacing to amused but the best I could get from them was a reasonable trade-in value if I wanted to buy something much more expensive - their ticket prices were way over the top. A few cards in newsagents' windows elicited zero response.
The 850's owner phoned up three weeks later, lamenting the lack of response to his expensive advertising efforts. The 750 plus five hundred notes and I could have his 850. I agreed immediately, that just left the massive problem of finding the wedge. The bank was finally persuaded to give me an expensive overdraft and a second job found to pay it off! Bloody motorcycles!
Well worth the effort as the 850 was close to sublime. I did the bars pronto which transformed the whole feel of the machine, felt much more part of the plot and improved the high speed running. Okay, it was gasping a bit at the ton but would eventually put 110mph on the clock. I think the gearing was altered over the 750, in favour of sharper acceleration rather than top speed. I didn't mind, the plod had gone berserk and the bike was still full of character at sensible speeds.
The 850 had a much better gearbox that was much less prone to sudden explosions. Fuel was close to 60mpg. Power delivery was much smoother with none of the minor gaps in the 750. This might have been just down to the relative newness of the 850's motor but as the mileage piled up it still ran with a coherence that the 750 never really matched. As you'd expect, some extra design and development had been expended on the bigger triple.
The handling was rather curious. Gave a strong impression of togetherness and stability below 80mph, then shuffled around in a way that was worse than the 750! Steering geometry changes to suit the custom style? Probably. A few times, above 95mph, I experienced some wicked speed wobbles, real old tank-slappers, but they died down when I slightly loosened my grip on the bars. Goes against all logic, but it works!
The suspension was soft to the point of being mushy but even after it was upgraded the bike was still prone to high speed tank-slappers! The revised riding position gave reasonable comfort for runs of up to 200 miles in a day.
This was the best XS triple I was to own! Kept it for over 75000 miles and it didn't actually break. Over the years of ownership I bought a few other XS's but they were never up to the 850's abilities.
The most interesting one was a rat-bike that had gone around the clock - at least once. Everything was coated in matt black paint, including an highly illegal 3-1 exhaust. The XS is about as far from a racing bike as you can get but that exhaust howl was right off a race track. Brilliant!
The exhaust drowned out all the racket that the engine was making, worse even than my old 750! It still motored along with reasonable elan and had enough performance in town to keep the cops at bay. On the open road it just spluttered and coughed if I tried to do more than 70mph. In the end, the whole thing was dismantled and kept for spares. I didn't mind, it had only cost seventy-five quid to buy.
The next bike was a stock 850 which had done 46000 miles but didn't run any more. The wiring was completely rotten. Once replaced, the motor burped into life, sounding like a jackhammer at idle and vibrated across the tarmac! It kept going out of sheer cussedness, the same kind of dedication to survival as a Dobberman on a thief's balls! Cost fifty quid, did 2300 miles with only fuel and oil, sold for three hundred notes.
Another 750 was next, one of the first models. A one-owner job that had never been mistreated and survived for 61000 miles. The best 750 I'd come across despite the unlikely mileage. The guy had upgraded the suspension, bought a new tank, seat and panels, powder coated the frame, fitted a stainless steel exhaust and renovated the brakes. In many respects, it was better than new.
The 750 came into my life just as I could feel the 850 dying a death, though it had a few thousand miles left. I sold the bigger triple at a profit; despite their bad reputation they are slowly moving towards classic status! Basically, I've had almost free biking for the past half decade. Can't be bad.
Gerry Connor