It's a sobering experience. The sight of old friends and acquaintances quietly turning their backs, mumbling embarrassed excuses before taking their leave in mid sentence. Some even crossing to the other side of the street to avoid your once welcome company. One individual making it all too apparent that you will be no longer welcome in his shop.
What heinous crime could account for such cold retribution? Murderer, sex fiend or worse? Well, yes, much worse, in fact. I had part exchanged my immaculately restored BSA A65 for a Japanese motorcycle. The one sin which can never be forgiven in the eyes of the Classic Berk aficionado.
Not so heinous if you have always walked with the enemy - at least your colours were nailed to the mast from the beginning. Such people are merely tolerated, pitied even, as unredeemed heathens who could not help their state of eternal damnation. To blatantly change sides, however, was indicative of voluntary betrayal, conscious cohabitation with the devil.
Despite pointing out to my detractors that I was not the first in this long and well documented exodus to the East, such appeals to historical precedent fell on deaf ears and closed minds (probably the effect of riding vibratory British machines). In retrospect, I suppose I should have expected some such reaction.
Sadly, when part of a group, group identity tends to eliminate any objective view of said group. No matter that to outsiders you may appear as a collection of eccentric oddballs or raving nutters, you, as a privileged insider can always bask in the warm reassurances of the collective consciousness. If all this sounds a little like an example of political psychology - you may be right.
Fanatics of any creed share the same frightening characteristics of blinkered vision and bigoted opinion. Traits so common in our political and economic system, that they give the advantage to our rivals. Institutionalised incompetence and corruption my have been the perogative of past management in the post war British bike industry - looking further afield today and you see nothing has changed. No wonder that the Japanese are now producing their products in this country. It seems the pupil has come home to teach the master.
It was with a mixture of sadness and relief as I rode the BSA for the last time. I felt as if I was taking a cherished animal to the knackers yard. I confess the relief far outweighed the sadness as I rode away on an F reg Suzi GSX750ES with only 1000 miles on the clock. Never more would I have to cringe in embarrassment as ordinary saloon cars rushed past, leaving me gasping atop a vibratory, oily jackhammer, which took sadistic revenge on the rider if cruised at anything approaching 70mph.
Sure, there were decades of technology separating the two machines, but the design of the BSA was already obsolete when it was new. With 16 valves and careful cylinder head design, the Suzuki actually had more torque than the poor old BSA. It would pull from 20mph in top right up to an indicated 135mph. In fact, so good is the power delivery that it makes you wonder if things like GSXR750s are worth the effort with their two stroke like need to keep the revs high for power (6000rpm in the GSXR's case).
With a relatively light mass of 460lbs, sixteen inch front wheel and sophisticated suspension it is a joy to steer around corners. Its longish wheelbase aids straight line stability. At relatively sane speeds it returns 45-50mpg. The bikini fairing is cosmetic only. Fuel and oil temperature gauges are useful. In 1000 miles the O-ring chain has needed no adjustment. Suzuki certainly got it right when they revised the frame and suspension of the GSX750 in 1983. Accompanying a GSXR750 to the BMF rally I was surprised at how well the ES acquitted itself.
Its racing brethren tends to be much more peaky. On long twisting roads the R could not shake the ES, admittedly he was carrying a passenger. He was a tall chap - we had to stop occasionally while he straightened his cramped limbs. The ES was an armchair by comparison. I found the rear brake has to be applied with discretion if wheel lock is to be avoided. The multi rate anti-dive forks works very effectively.
The engine is a direct development of the venerable GS750. The later version has plain main bearings and twice as many valves adjusted by lock-nut tappets. Valve adjustment is critical if damaged valves are to be avoided, otherwise the unit is bulletproof with none of the complexity of watercooling or electronic fuel systems.
Having attended a few Brit only rallies on my BSA, I have come to realise that polishing old relics with briar pipe clenched firmly between teeth is not really my scene. I am still young enough to appreciate the sheer power and superb engineering of the modern Japanese machinery. It was very fortunate for myself that classic prices had gone through the roof, otherwise I could not have afforded the Suzuki.
And there's the rub, the classic scene has now been hijacked by the Sotheby brigade who have little appreciation of motorcycles for their own sake, but rather as an investment. As if the country was not already groaning under the weight of investment experts, banks, building societies, property developers and sundry other pimps and their cohorts, who don't actually produce or design, but rather shuffle money about, which indirectly extends to shuffling people as well.
I can understand the appeal of old machinery. Such home grown products however flawed are rendolent of happier times in these islands. When Britain held its head high in world markets, the Yuppie and VDU had not been invented, a family could survive as a unit without both parents forced to work every daylight hour to pay for a ridiculous mortgage. Rain forests were still relatively unmolested, the ozone layer was still a layer and not, as we are now informed breached. It is tempting to become trapped in that never never land where time has stood still. We are all guilty at one time or another of indulging in the vice. Unfortunately, time has the uncomfortable habit of not standing still. Time for another blast on that Suzuki.
Gerald Sturdy