The first motorcycle is always viewed favourably in retrospect, the first few weeks on a machine so exciting that they are not easily submerged later when events go wrong. To be fair to the little air cooled single cylinder stroker, the RXS100 is a tough and reliable little commuter under normal usage. But the learning curve and youthful high spirits do not add up to normal use. Not much!
The problem was not so much with the machine as with myself and the company I was keeping. Most of my mates were a little older than myself and out working for a living rather than trying to pass silly things like A levels. Thus, they were on TZRs and RGs, with huge HP debts, whilst I had to keep up with them on a three year old Yamaha RXS100 that had cost £500, or about two years worth of paper delivering and weekend work in a fruit market.
The bike had 15000 miles on the clock and had been owned by three different youths who used it to learn the arcane art of motorcycling upon. I had taken a training course in order to allay parental fears, so didn't think twice about going for a ride with my mates only minutes after its past owner had delivered the still sparkling machine to my doorstep.
I was tail end Charlie, working on the basis that if they could sling their bikes around the country corners then I should have no problems following them. We were soon hurling along with the speedo touching 70mph - so fast, so exciting - I barely noticed the vibes zinging through the tank and bars or the slight weave. The first time I had to brake really hard for a slow corner, the RXS didn't respond anywhere near as well as the disc equipped 125s and only by throwing the bike to the right of the first machine in front of me did I avoid back-ending him.
By then, the bike was on the wrong side of the road going straight on when I should be banked over for the curve. Still braking, with the chassis bouncing every which way, I hurled the beast over, and made it back on to the right side of the road with one hell of a wobble reverberating through the bike. The tiny SLS front drum is a death trap if you want to indulge in flat out riding and thereafter I counselled myself to ride with due care and attention to its limitations.
Some hope. My friends made some remark about me looking a bit white faced when we eventually came to a stop. On the top of this hill, the clouds of blue smoke from the three machines enveloped the area, none of us could afford smoke free oil, we just filled the tanks with the cheapest we could find. Their other comment was about the strange ringing noise coming from my engine. The ride home was full of the fear that my new found pride and joy was going to seize up.
The next day I took the machine to the local expert. He was the Basil Fawty of the motorcycle world, renown for taking a lump hammer to motorcycles that did not respond to his particular brand of tender loving care. One customer came back to find that his cycle parts had been battered flat when the machine refused to restart after being rebuilt. It might seem strange to take my machine to such a chap, but he was the only mechanic in our area and he usually did a reasonable job for next to nothing.
He reckoned the small end was on the way out, but he would fix it for me the next day if he could buy the parts. He allowed me to watch him work and I was quite impressed by his mechanical dexterity. The bore looked okay and the crankshaft was in reasonable shape, according to him. The reassembled machine felt smoother and the noise had gone.
Indicated top speed had improved to 75mph. On the straights, the RXS was surprisingly fast, able to edge ahead of the restricted 125 race replicas. This annoyed my friends so much that they soon derestricted their machines and I was left well behind after that as they then had access to over 20hp. It wasn't the most stable of machines, its cheapo suspension meant it reacted strongly to bumpy roads, giving arm and leg muscles a real pounding.
Despite the fact that it wallowed and weaved at speed, it never became too frightening. Weighing in at only 230lbs, it was very easy indeed to haul back on to the required line. As I became more used to the machine, I became more and more amazed at the speed at which I could bounce up to corners and just haul the bike around. If it didn't exactly run around as if on rails, at least it didn't become upset if sudden apparitions (such as veering cars or pot-holes) required a radical change in direction. No, it couldn't safely stay with TZRs and the like through the curves, but what 17 yearold cares about being safe?
Town riding would have been very good if the plug did not foul up if the engine was required to slog along at low revs for a mile or so. It would suddenly clear, sending the revs soaring and the front wheel leaping into the air. I was stopped by a cop once after only narrowly avoiding bring the front wheel down on to a Volvo's bonnet (yes, I know, next time I'll hit it), but got off with a request to take my docs to the local cop shop.
Another danger of RXS riding was the rear light. At low revs this flickered on and off in a disturbing manner; use of the rear brake, thus using the stop light, would then stall the motor. The front light was the usual rubbish that left you peering over the bars worrying if you were still on the road. Yet another danger was the front guard rusting through, falling off and trying to lock the front wheel whilst I was doing 50mph. The mangled guard looked like a particularly weird piece of modern sculpture. The rear guard also rusts through.
As does the petrol tank. I found this out the hard way because the motor started to cut out erratically. I spent hours checking everything in the engine until I suddenly had a brain wave and checked the fuel. I could actually feel the side of the tank give under light finger pressure. There are loads of RXS's in breakers so it was no great deal to find cheap cycle parts.
In an attempt to keep up with my mates I started doing some engine mods. Had the ports and head modified to give better flow and higher compression ratio. It took hours to get the engine into life again because the DT175 carb my mate had declared ideal for my modified engine was way too rich. I put the old carb back on and it was much better.
There was quite a bellow out of the baffleless exhaust but it hid a huge lack of low speed power. The clutch had to be slipped viciously and the revs kept way up on take offs. Top speed improved to an indicated 85mph but it was a very hard bike to ride because of its all or nothing nature. Fuel went from 95mpg as stock to 60mpg modified and oil consumption increased markedly. I put the cylinder head gasket back in to mellow the compression ratio but it was still not much use at low speeds.
When the local breaker offered to swap me my engine for a newish one plus £75, I jumped at the deal. The new motor is a real gem, hardly smokes at all and zings along flat out all day without any vibes. Maintenance on these engines really is just a case of adding oil and it's dead easy to do 100mpg on a newish one. As a commuter it's a great deal - even a new one only costs a grand and after that there's not much need to pay out. As a learner it's dead easy to ride up to 50mph, beyond that handling and braking do not impress, but it's possible to compensate for the faults if you ride on the wild side.
I sold mine after a year, after many an enjoyable outing and will always recall the little RXS with fondness.
W.T.H
****************************************************
One thing breakers don't like is people who turn up with vague notions about wanting to buy a crashed bike cheaply. Not if they come back week after week, making silly offers for different machines each time. After a couple of months he finally gave in to my badgering and let me have a five year old RXS for £125. The front end was smashed in but the frame was straight and the engine still ran.
No, he didn't have any forks or wheels that would fit and I'd better get out of there before he gave me a slap behind the ear for being an ungrateful bugger. That was when it dawned on me that I had no way of taking the battered machine home. After much thought, I knocked out the mangled front wheel with the breaker's sledgehammer, strung some cord from where the spindle used to go and carted the bike half a mile home with the rope on my shoulders as the Yam bounced along behind.
The forks were torn off and thrown away, they were bent beyond redemption. Close scrutiny of the pile of MCN's that I kept for reference revealed a couple of breakers who had RXS's. One of the advantages of living in the capital was an excess of breakers. One of the disadvantages was that all of these Yams seemed to have their front ends battered by mad London cagers. After enriching BT to a large degree I finally tracked down a seven year old RXS that had broken its engine (at 49000 miles, incidentally).
The rusted front end looked so dubious that the breaker let me have it for £20. I prodded and poked the commuters with it in the rush hour going home on the Tube, receiving enough nasty looks to last my whole life. It went on with ease, after cleaning up the rim with a wire-brush and using some Solvol on the stanchions. A pair of gaiters would confuse the MOT tester with regards to the leaking seals and pitted chrome.
One unforeseen consequence, but an immediately obvious one once the engine had warmed up, of the accident was that the downpipe had been knocked. The clouds of smoke that escaped from the flange soon filled up the garage, left me coughing like an eighty year old smoker. I turned the engine off and used maximum force on the exhaust nut, as the spanner slipped off I received a deep burn on my arm when I fell on to the motor. Screaming in rage, I kicked the engine cases so hard I almost broke my toes and was horrified when the RXS fell over, taking out a workbench on its way to oblivion.
After some medical attention, sorting out the mess, letting the engine cool off and tightening up the exhaust I was ready to reach for the sledgehammer again when the smoke was still there. It took a day to track down a new gasket and some exhaust sealant, just to make sure. This time the engine came into life first kick, ticked over smoothly without any exhaust leaks.
The RXS is a 12hp single cylinder stroker which is set up as a sensible commuter but also appeals to the impoverished learner as they are cheap to buy secondhand and reasonable on insurance. Most of them are used to their limits as this is the only way to keep up with the traffic but they seem to respond to such excesses by running along unperturbed. Thus, I had no qualms about leaping aboard and riding the thing at ten-tenths through the town.
This was a quick way of finding out that the front drum was worn out. It wasn't just a question of a lack of power but so much juddering that the forks were leaping up and down as if the springs were breaking up. The casing had gone oval with age and abuse. There was very little engine braking and hard use of the rear brake sent the bike into a skid. Also, back home I discovered that the front rim was so rusted that the spokes were pulling out. There was nothing for it but to throw more money away on BT and find a new wheel.
A week later and twenty notes poorer I was ready for the MOT test. The tester was very conscientious, took the bike for a test ride, coming back to complain that it was pulling to the left. The wheels were out of line. He set the back wheel up for me free of charge and handed over the certificate. I celebrated by trying to wheelie the bike up the road but changed my mind when the gearbox made a noise like a cement mixer.
The smashed clock had read 18000 miles, so I was surprised by the level of blue smoke that was following me everywhere. I pulled the exhaust off with the intention of decoking it, but the silencer fell apart in my hands, a great band of rust had formed around its circumference. Unusual on a stroker as the exhaust is usually preserved by the excess of oil spewed out by the motor but the layer of carbon was so deep that no such protection was possible. A fiver secured a newish one from the breaker but I had to buy a new gasket to stop it leaking at the cylinder.
There was still more blue smoke than I'd expected and the bike didn't really want to go over 60mph. Nothing for it but to whip the cylinder head off. That was covered in carbon, as was the top of the piston. It was only a moment's work to take the cylinder off. The bottom piston ring was wedged into its groove so completely that when I tried to dig it out the ring broke up into little pieces. The bore was fine, all I had to pay out for was a new ring and cylinder gaskets. I can't believe that this is a common problem on RXS's of such a mileage, maybe the breaker had switched clocks!
The good thing about strokers is that they are very easy to work on, the bad thing is that they need more frequent attention than four strokes. Back on the road I gave the bike a mild hundred miles to bed the ring in, then let loose on the throttle and gearbox. 70mph came up with reasonable ease but there just wasn't the power to go any faster. That made the bike a liability on the motorway, dubious on fast A-roads but moderately interesting in town and down the back roads......I could just about keep ahead of the cages and could annoy plod mounted BMWs by scampering through the tiniest of traffic gaps.
As there wasn't any damping in the forks, it being too much hassle to change the fork seals, any excess speed would probably have been more trouble than it was worth. 70mph, even on bumpy roads, didn't really seem to upset the suspension at either end. As the RXS only weighed 230lbs it was not the most secure motorcycle in the world, needing a lot of handlebar input to stay on the required course and could be thrown off the road by heavy side winds. On one ride, where there were gaps in the hedgerows, gusts of wind would sweep in, catching us unawares, the whole caboodle doing a dizzy dance with the distinct feeling that it was about to go completely out of control.
If there was a bit of a fight with the controls needed from time to time, I always succeeded in getting the better of the RXS; after a couple of months it became second nature and I found the little stroker a great fun way of getting around on the cheap.
Fuel wasn't as good as I'd expected, 60 to 80mpg, which gave a range of 120 to 150 miles. I ran out of gas once when travelling through the Lincolnshire flatlands. I had to push the bike four miles before I came upon another vehicle from which I syphoned off a couple of pints of petrol. The owner was nowhere to be seen, so what could I do. I carried a couple of pints of fuel in the top-box after that.
I was also caught out by a chain snapping. It was quite new, albeit a very cheap one and had only lasted 3000 miles. That time I had to push the bike a mile before I came to a town where I found a working telephone to summon the AA who I'd joined after the fuel incident. The cause of its early demise was hooked sprockets. A new chain and sprocket set was needed every 7000 miles! Tyres lasted for over 13000 miles, which were the cheapest item on the consumable front.
The electrics were barely adequate, with poor lights and a battery that doesn't last more than a year - the motor starts cutting out just before it's due to fail and the engine won't run when it's dead. The mill needed hardly any attention for over 20,000 miles after I'd sorted it out, all I did was fill the oil tank up every time the idiot light came on.
After a year of hard riding and high mileage I was about ready for a change of machine. The RXS is a very cheap way of dealing with the commuting chores but can be a bit of a challenge for long distances, especially if you expect to ride in the dark! I sold mine for £300, fairly sure that there was enough life left to keep the new owner in smiles for a couple of months. Most in breakers are crashed so if you have a good chassis it's possible to keep them going forever.
David Stansfield
****************************************************
My short biking career starts back in 1989 aged 21 after a very drunken and doped weekend in Portrush, Co. Antrim, home of the North West 200. What stuck out from the haze of drinking, partying and racing that weekend was an orgy of well sexy road machines wherever you gazed.....and my tongue! Instant conversion from just an ordinary nutter to a total bike nutter. Except I had no appropriate sexy machine.....well, I didn't have any motorbike.
Four years, 32000 miles, four bikes, four good shunts and therefore only three NW 200's later (absence due to injury) I reckon I'm ready to talk openly. The four bikes I'd owned were a Yam RXS100, Suzuki GS125, Kawa KMX200, and Honda VT250, in that order. So, before my memory disappears down the wine alley for ever I'll tell you the tale from the start.
After studying issue 16 of the UMG for four months I'd decided what my first bike was going to be. I bought it three long months later in September '89 for £400, a well sexy Yamaha RXS100 with 10,000 miles on the clock, a year's tax and a very bent, thus wobbly, centrestand. This was a good bargaining point as there was no sidestand and the usual crude screwdriver through the ignition keyhole, suggesting a somewhat used and abused history. Otherwise, the wee bike looked and went like hell, according to the savvy of a well trusted friend who rode it home from the Belfast dealer, with a spare (still in the packet) centrestand which I fitted about ten months later, the usual 24 hour guarantee, half a tank of two star and a pint of two stroke oil.
A comprehensive training program was undertaken in my mate's back yard. I rode up and down for half an hour in bottom gear, convinced myself that I wasn't going to fall off. Lesson two consisted of matey taking me pillion outside of Belfast, the great city not being the ideal training ground for novice riders, what with the army, police and terrorists. As we sped off at a terrifying pace I recalled that the pilot was infamous for his exploits on a big stroker.....Oh, bollocks, I'm going to die. Two up over some of the craziest mountain roads near Belfast at between 50 and 70mph. My first serious pillion ride was not exactly physically and mentally relaxing.
Lesson three. My turn again as pilot, matey on the pillion just as scared and frightened as I'd been. The sweetness of revenge was forgotten beneath the need to coordinate clutch, throttle and gearchange. The brakes could've been more powerful too, beginning to fade as we charged up and down the hills. Oh fun!
Lesson four because I couldn't keep off the bike and found it difficult to sleep. In the local park at 5.00am on a Sunday morning. No peelers, no helmet, no sense which was nothing new. It was like being airborne. Enraged tramps woken from their slumbers by the neat wail from the single cyinder stroker. Brilliant.
First impressions. Very impressed, I never knew these wee learner/ commuter hundreds could go so quick. 80mph down hill when late for work. 70-75mph regularly, at the slightest excuse. Fuel consumption was about 70 to 80mpg, equating to about 60mpg when the amount of two stroke oil used was taken into account. My ten year old VT250 is loads more comfortable to ride and returns 75-80mpg using hardly any oil, but the RXS was, on looking back, ten times more fun. Like comparing high heels, stockings and suspenders to wooly tights - get my drift?
Anyway, the acceleration was pretty mad in the context of learning and a 100cc, good for the odd wheelie. I often ended up charging towards obstacles far too fast, although on the open road the ultimate lack of top end go meant it was dead easy to be sandwiched between cars when the bike ran out of acceleration.
After fitting a half decent set of Dunlops I found a whole new world of handling...whoopee! The bike had old fashioned twin shocks, a far from excessive tubular frame and marginal forks, but it didn't seem to matter as it would forgive my stranger manoeuvres and almost always was light enough to grapple back on to line.
One night, after fitting half a dozen pints of Guinness and a bloody brave mate on the back seat, I could've swore I beat a TZR250 up the road. Maybe it was the drink or the dark or more than likely a spotty kid on a TZR125, but whipping any sporty 125 on the RXS is pretty impressive. What lets the bike down, though, and maybe explains the excessive speed, is the braking, both fade prone drums. There wasn't any easy way to upgrade them but it quickly taught me the virtues of looking where I was going and planning ahead, as it was often necessary to wrench the RXS around cars.
It wasn't long before the bike started to show its weaknesses when at 14000 miles the crappy 6V battery died, leaving me stranded 20 miles away from home at night. The vibrations through the frame had caused an electrical lead to work loose and the battery wouldn't charge. Then the speedo cable broke due to a seized drive mechanism, probably due to a serious lack of cleaning and maintenance while doing 220 or so miles a week to work and back on very salty winter roads. 15000 miles meant it was time to replace the shagged chain, repeated at 29000 miles when a new front sprocket was also needed.
I'd always liked the styling of the RXS, and always will, but without any kind of fairing the winters were very cold and wet. I always had to stop every morning for five minutes to heat up my hands on the cylinder, before carrying on to work, wrapped up like an arctic explorer. Being six feet tall, the RXS was a touch on the small side but not to the extent that I couldn't adapt, but weighing 12 stone meant the bike didn't like headwinds and often felt under pressure on big hills.
By 24000 miles, though, I had become overconfident and rode the wee bike on the full (11.5hp) power everywhere I went, thus resulting in a rebuilt rear wheel and a new clutch cable. At about 27000 miles there was a very funny accident at 45mph, involving two stationary cars, a tight tow-rope, lots of cringing onlookers and an Oscar winning Superman impression resulting in serious humiliation, and broken cycle parts.
Along the way, the numberplate vibrated loose, cracked and disappeared somewhere over the rainbow, but I blame it on the hideous abuse I gave the wee Yamaha, including five weeks of despatching in Belfast, after which it was finally laid to rest with the same set of Dunlops fitted at 15000 miles still looking good at 29000 miles.
Durability, for a small bike, was generally good although it looked as if it had just attempted and failed a crack at the Paris to Dakar rally when it was traded in for £200 and a Suzuki GS125 after two years and four months of real biking fun. It was spotted alive four months later being ridden to hell by some kid from the other side of town and just as determined to never say die but live on forever. In my fading memory, anyway. Yes, a good learner bike. Yes, a good commuter bike. Yes, very sporty and absolutely f..king sexy. And me? Totally nuts but I'd have another one tomorrow.
B.A.Nutter