I didn't really want to buy the custom version of the XS650. High and wide bars, short mufflers, odd looking seat and slightly kicked out forks. Not the sort of engineering you want to see in a sickle infamous for throwing speed wobbles above 80mph... of course, with those bars it wasn't the kind of speed you'd ever attain. That was what the dealer told me, also pointed to the 1250 note ticket price (written in blood that, luv, no offers) and mere 9740 miles on the clock.
Ride this kind of beast fast, you fall off - no way the motor could've been thrashed despite being 17 years old. Well, it was all polished up nicely, suggesting the three owners had spent more time with the washing-up liquid than burning the rubber (some Taiwanese junk!). She fired up, thrummed away and seemed to shake the whole building. Put a set of new Avons on her, and I'll have it said I, reassured by the three month warranty.
Three days later I was grinning widely as I took my first ride through the quaint town of Bath. The tractor-like noise, the easy-rider style and my own gunge factor had the cagers doing a double take and getting out of the way as fast as their coffins allowed. Instant street credibility. A cop came running out of a side-street, looking most alarmed but I gave her some stick and left him eating the exhaust fumes. My grin widened then disappeared when I lurched through a tight gap, felt the heavy old dear (500lbs?) beginning to topple over. A booted foot down sent a rage of pain through my frame, cool dissipated but we survived the ordeal.
The bars were the widest part of the machine, had my arms splayed out, my shoulders complaining even at moderate velocities. The bike shook and rumbled in the first two gears, seemed to get nowhere fast. Much happier in third, fourth or fifth. Despite the dumb riding position the Yamaha felt reassuringly stable at low speeds and with no need to go mad on the gearbox it was a relaxed cruise through town if you didn't mind the muscle building needed to swing it through the tighter gaps.
Arriving home, I felt pleased with my purchase and it went down well with the wife and kids, the former relieved that it didn't look like an accident waiting to happen and that I hadn't blown all our money on a deposit for an R1! Two-up riding didn't made much difference to the performance, which was far from startling, more like some old tug that was mired in the concept of steady she goes. Any attempt at throttle abuse was met with an excess of vibes and noise, not much more power. Happy enough to hit 80mph, thereafter it just didn't want to know...
On one speed attempt it ground to a halt. I began to panic, visions of a seized motor uppermost in my mind. All the electrics were dead. The battery was full of white crud. This was four days into ownership. A phone call to the dealer revealed that the guarantee didn't cover consumables but he'd only charge me the price of a new battery to send someone out with one. Trouble was the battery was some expensive Japanese item, seventy-five notes! I think I was done every which way, but it got me home.
The XS has a rather strange generator - it needs power before it can generate any, no good trying to kick it over if the battery's a goner! No doubt fine when newish but a pain in the proverbial for old bikes. The new battery lasted three days before it too died a death, but not being entirely stupid I hadn't travelled very far. I phoned the dealer again who didn't really want to know until I mentioned my father was in the Inland Revenue (he was, too, ten years ago!). They had the bike for a day and all they did was charge the battery! Lasted two days this time. More phone calls and spent anger.
Turned out the regulator - a huge old black box with mechanical cut-outs - was off an earlier bike and didn't match the rest of the electrical system, according to the dealer. Impossible to get bits, mate, we'll give you five hundred notes for the bike as spares - can you believe these people? Needless to say, I demurred and headed for the local scrap yard where for a quid I found a regulator off some old cage. After some fiddling with the contacts, a reliable charge was attained and all was well with the world.
Took me a couple of weeks to become convinced that my handiwork was up to scratch. Then I decided on a long weekend with the wife, the kids dumped on the mother-in-law. Scotland was our destination but we gave up by the time we hit Leeds - the bike was too uncomfortable to take for more than an hour in a sitting, the wife soon screaming abuse at me. That's my excuse, anyway!
Handling was stable up to about 60mph, thereafter it weaved and wobbled a bit but nothing too dangerous. The riding position severely limited speeding, as did the vibes above 80mph in top gear. It was, after all, an old-fashioned vertical twin without any balancers, using an excess of mass to help soak up the thrumming. 70mph was where it felt happiest in its motor, 60mph in its chassis, so I settled on 65mph, which was a slow moving invitation to a rear end ramming on the motorway. Cagers expected me to ride on the hard shoulder, judging by all the horn work and irate gestures! No fun at all!
Trying to hustle through country road bends was limited by a lack of ground clearance and a worn pair of shocks that could become tied up in knots when the surface turned a bit rough. Again, mildly annoying rather than outright dangerous.
Tales of XS650 speed wobbles usually occur at 80-100mph, often with ill-distributed weight aboard (don't even think about speeding with a top-box out back!) but as the dealer reckoned, the custom layout stopped such nonsense dead in its tracks. I suppose it's one way around a poor chassis design, just make sure no-one's capable of speeding! Even at restrained velocities my arse quickly went into spasms of pain and the pillion fared even worse, complaining about her feet being vibrated off the pegs. And it wasn't the kind of buzzing that turned babes horny - worst luck! Probably the only reason Harley sell so many sickles.
So in some respects a useless pile of shit. But that's being rational which has no place in a motorcyclist's life - does it? After about a month I was becoming quietly enamoured of the old thing! There was an element of relentlessness about the motor, and the way it chuffed away like a vintage relic; and by then my body had adapted to the riding position - I thought about flat bars but the hassle of replacing the cables didn't exactly inspire.
I think the mileage's pretty genuine. No smoke out of the pipes, instant starting from cold and 65mpg. Also the gearbox's slick - I tried one 50,000 miler that needed great artistry and subtlety to change gears. Something not easily hidden and a sure guide to whether it's been clocked or not. It's well built, the most likely area of rot the silencers, which go from the inside out - can look fine until they suddenly fall off; give 'em a good kicking. You can expect at least 10,000 miles from all of the consumables. And the motor's about as tough as they come. Spare parts and even tuning kits are readily available.
Good value for money, fun riding if you don't want speed - ideal if your licence's close to expiring - but not much use as a serious, long distance motorcycle unless you're into excessive pain! Those used to modern bikes will be immediately annoyed by the roughness and directness of the mill, but it soon fades into the background. Give it a little time, you'll find your whole outlook on life changing for the better!
J.H.