Chuff, chuff, chuff...clunk, chuff, chuff... clunk, clunk, chuff.....sudden silence. Just the whirring of the drive chain as we headed for the roadside. I sat there for a while, trying to calm my shaking body. The level of vibes given off by the worn thumper were even worse than an old Bonnie I used to ride. After 30 minutes it'd been difficult to hold on to the bars, but then the motor was original and had done 30,000 miles.
This breakdown was caused by the camchain tensioner falling apart. It'd gone way back but I'd managed to bodge it so the spring exerted some extra pressure. The tensioner had snapped. It may've happened under the extra stress from removing the engine balancer, although to be fair to myself it'd become so worn that there wasn't any discernible increase in the level of vibration. Engine balancers don't really eliminate vibes, they just change the nature of the buzzing.
That's the problem with big thumpers of this era, there was so much energy lost in dealing with the vibes, so much limitation in the amount of revs they can tolerate, that any advantages their size might give in theory were lost in practice. Newer, watercooled singles are a bit different in so far that modern design and stronger materials have minimised reciprocating masses, leading to subsequent decreases in the vibration.
The FT was still running on the original piston and bore. Something of a record for an FT which could kill off pistons in as little as 10,000 miles. I put that down to my 500 mile oil changes and religious servicing sessions at the same mileage. Not that I had much choice in the matter, the valves would become so clattery that they'd drown out the noise of even the Goldie style megaphone.
Even when the mileage was as low as 10,000 miles, performance was only just ahead of a 125 learner. In theory it was possible to break through the 100mph barrier, in practice the vibes became so vicious once 90mph was reached that even good teeth threatened to fall out and my eyesight was as bad as after I'd drunk ten pints of best bitter. As mileage increased the tolerable top speed decreased until, by the time 20,000 miles was attained, no more than 80mph was possible.
Cruising speed was only 65 to 70mph, even then the vibes were on a level that would annoy most people used to newish Japanese multi's. The flat track riding position was fine for such mundane speeds, which was about the only positive aspect I could find in the chassis. The rear shocks were of the Fade Very Quickly variety, had already gone when I first bought the bike with a mere 4000 miles on the clock. Perhaps they were crap from new!
The result of the weak rear suspension was lots of shuffling about in bends, high speed weaves and the feeling that at any moment I was going to be thrown clear off the seat. The complete lack of damping and sagging springs made for an incredibly uncomfortable ride that had me screaming for release after as little as 50 miles even on a relatively smooth motorway. Not that I often took the FT on to motorways, the lack of speed left us a sitting target for bored car drivers.
The front forks did the same trick at 12000 miles. The bike had been heavy and imprecise in town, once the damping disappeared it'd just leap from bump to bump with all the joy of a crack addict stomping a victim in search of easy money. There were a couple of times in town when the front end became so vague and bouncy that I lost all control, whacking into the side of cars, postboxes and the odd pedestrian.
As the FT was a complete rat, even at its extraordinary low mileage, falling off or hitting things held few terrors for me. It was, if nothing else, quite sturdily built and able to roll down the road with the best of them. Even so, my skin couldn't take being scraped along the road at 50mph, so I soon determined that stiffer springs in the front forks were necessary. These were acquired from the local breaker and judging by the complete lack of apparent movement must've come off some 700lb behemoth. Still, it ensured I didn't have any more damping problems.
The rear shocks are still there! They were already so bad that they never became any worse. One irritant that they emphasized was the way the swinging arm bearings would turn to dust after less than 5000 miles. When that happened the bike went into a handlebar snapping speed wobble at just 25mph! The first time I had to extract the spindle it was a three man job, each of us taking turns with the sledgehammer for a whole afternoon before it shifted. Subsequent renovations were made relatively easy by using a tin of grease during the reassembly. Each time the swinging arm's removed it needs a new coating of paint as it seems to seep out rust.
The brakes were another area totally susceptible to the English climate. The calipers would seize up so quickly I couldn't believe it! The separate parts of the caliper would seize up so solidly, after as little as a 1000 miles in winter, that it'd take me a whole weekend to strip them down. Even when rebuilt frequently it's impossible to get more than 12000 miles out of them. Spares in breakers are so rare that any time I see any, even in a wrecked state, I grab it with both hands.
Pads lasted quite well, over 10,000 miles. This was probably because the braking was marginal for most of the time, a finger snapping amount of pressure needed to squeal the tyre. Dunlopads were more expensive than EBC but necessary as they gave a much needed edge to the braking in the wet. On stock pads all the horrors you'd heard about wet weather lag and suddenly locked wheels came true with a vengeance that suggested Honda had fitted the cheapest possible brakes.
A problem shared with the XBR was brake discs that became wafer thin after 20,000 miles. Unfortunately, I didn't know this at the time, put the noise, every time I touched the front brake lever, down to a caliper going terminally rotten. I found out the hard way when the disc broke up, sending sharp bits of metal into the side of a new Escort just before the front wheel's impact. Fortunately, speed was down to 15mph by then and the front wheel escaped serious injury. As did the cager but not the car, which was both dented and peppered with bits of brake disc. He viewed the sight with disbelief and tears in his eyes.
The exhaust note can have the same effect on innocent pedestrians. The stock exhaust was an incredibly huge bit of engineering but true to its base nature quickly started to rust away, the collector going first before holes started appearing in the silencer, a warning that the whole lot was about ready to fall off (at 18000 miles). An old alloy C-G collector was combined with the down-pipes and a megaphone. This gave a rather fruity sound that turned from a nostalgic, mellow note to a milk bottle shattering snarl above 3500rpm.
The change in exhaust system added to an already hesitant power delivery, the carb seemingly connected to the throttle through about two miles of very elastic cable. A number of times I sat on the bike, in desperate overtaking situations, with the throttle all the way open, praying for the deepening exhaust note to turn into some back wheel brawn. It was idiosyncratic enough to turn an atheist deeply religious!
Any attempt at reasonable forward progress was hindered by the mind blowing gearbox, a device which wore out at a faster rate than the human body could learn to adapt to its nature. The best bet was to locate a reasonable gear, say third or fourth, as soon as possible and remain in it come what may, massive abuse of the clutch preferable to attempting to select another gear. First and second, on those rare days when they could be engaged, were accompanied by such a frenzy of vibration that I really thought the whole plot was going to fall apart under me. Top gear was so tall that the bike would only accelerate down the steepest hill, when almost inevitably the engine would jump out of gear and scream maniacally.
Attempts at wheelies were a quick way to make the clutch fall apart or lurch the bike sideways with potentially expensive results, depending on the kind of car and type of driver thus assaulted. It was just about light enough to kick back upright and do a bump start......which reminds me, the starter motor was one of those kind devices that made life in the effete nineties tremendously interesting by either burning out or exploding its clutch mechanism.
There were lots of other minor problems but by now you've got a pretty clear picture of the kind of hack we're talking about here. I fixed the camchain tensioner with some bits from the breaker and the thing has now run to 36000 miles. That's over 30,000 miles in ten years of mindless abuse. I dare say that had I spent out some money on decent shocks, chassis bearings and proper tyres I could've sorted out the handling. That would've encouraged me to ride the bike at higher velocities than the engine could withstand, or myself, with the resultant vicious vibes. Despite this diatribe I rather enjoy the challenge of riding such a hopeless hack and expect to carry on bodging for the next ten years. No hope for some of us!
Frank Knight