The RD was one of those bikes that was handed on between mates, never achieving a role as a main machine but being a useful stand-in when something went wrong with the number one motorcycle or serving as a stop-gap between machines. The reason it never achieved a staring role was that it was an ex-racer fast going towards rat status.
I'd just sold my CBR600 and was waiting for a good CBR900 to turn up, so bunged the RD350's owner a few hundred quid. For reasons beyond comprehension he'd fitted a stock exhaust and proper handlebars, which made the bike much more civilised but somewhat took the fun away from screaming around on an old stroker. It still had a heavy dose of power at five grand, so much so that the worn out suspension produced a mighty wobble as the front wheel went all light.
By combining max revs with some clutch abuse the bike would wheelie very nicely, threatening to loop the loop. Experimenting with the wheelie potential through a crowded city center isn't exactly recommended. Especially not when it all goes wrong and the front wheel lands on the wing of one of those expensive Jag's. I picked both myself and the machine up, did a running start and disappeared through the traffic before the Jag owner could vent his anger.
An interesting trick I soon perfected was to aviate the front wheel up on to the back of a car and then motor over its roof! There was loads of clanging as the undercarriage and car body interfaced in a carnage dance but the bike always won out! The numberplate was so battered that there was no way anyone could read it - not that it really mattered, the last time the bike was registered was in 1992! I always took a different route to work to make sure no-one was waiting for me.
The bike wasn't much cop out of town. I suspect the frame was a bit bent because it went all wobbly as soon as a bit of speed was indulged. Not that stock RD350LC's ever felt glued to the road. But this was a whole different ballgame, with the bars twitching in my hands and the back end squirming all over the shop. The suspension was shot as well, which didn't help.
The only good thing about the front end was a rebuilt brake that would shake the forks and squeal the tyre. Unfortunately, the bike didn't want to pull up in a straight line, veered all over the road with a mind of its own. On the overrun, the engine popped away like a machine gun but didn't help slow the bike down.
It took four weeks to find a CBR900, then winter was starting so I thought I'd give the RD a go and keep the CBR for the odd sunny day until spring. Had to be very careful in the wet, too much throttle had the back wheel going into a massive slide that threatened to batter the bike into the side of innocent cars. Fun enough in its destructive way, metal fatigue was running so strongly through the chassis that any untoward violence would probably have broken it up.
Didn't stop me doing the daily commute, more or less mastering the wee beastie to the extent that on dry roads I usually maxed the engine out. Don't know what it needed but all it got was fresh oil in the tank and one spark plug chop when it refused to start.
Didn't complain until one very cold January morning when I was late for work. The engine was revved through the gears until the whole chassis buzzed with the vibes. I had begun to wonder if the main bearings were starting to knock, confirmed when the engine seized up solid. Before I could operate the clutch lever, the bike had gone into a massive wobble/skid that snaked the RD into the side of a bus.
The bike's revenge was to land on top of me. Amazingly, I managed to throw the thing off but not before I was covered in oil, petrol and battery acid! I was helped along in this act of desperation because the headstock had snapped off so it wasn't the whole bike trying to merge me with the tarmac. I was still bruised and bloodied, took some consolation in the complete wreckage that lay before my disbelieving eyes!
Just about all my friends had at some time put a leg over the RD350, so it was a good excuse for a massive piss up to mourn its passing. The next day I fell off the CBR900 and did about a grand and a half's worth of damage! A bad week!
Pete Bowles
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In September 1983, I rode my clapped out XL185 down to the nearest discount dealer and bought one of the first Powervalve Yamaha RD350LCs. My journey home was almost 12 miles; I can't think of any words that would describe that exhilarating first ride adequately. I suppose that it was the difference between walking on broken glass and on a sheepskin rug. The bike was so smooth, so quiet and, er, brilliant compared to my old dog of an XL.
The bike had such advanced features, back then, as a well triangulated tubular frame, rising rate rear monoshock, an alloy radiator, rubber mounted engine and air assisted forks. The Powervalve is electronically controlled, altering the exhaust system dynamics so that the maximum peak power can be developed without sacrificing low speed torque. The Powervalve remains in its closed position until 5000rpm and gradually opens up to allow maximum flow at 9000rpm.
The YPVS retains the same size (26mm) carbs as its predecessor, but has 240mm main jets, redesigned needle, slide cutaway and pilot settings. The compression ratio is 6:1, measured from the moment that the exhaust port closes - hence the Powervalve at 5000rpm allows an increase in apparent compression ratio, giving improved torque. To keep the Powervalve clean, it's rotated from the open to closed position when the ignition is switched on or when the engine is restarted. The crankshaft has been redesigned for the claimed 59 horses, but apparently it can handle a lot more horsepower.
One immediate problem was the rear shock, adjusted via a rubber toothed belt connected to a pully wheel behind the right-hand sidepanel. Adjustment necessitated removal of the lockable seat, the right panel and the extraction of a spanner from the toolkit. There was no damping adjustment and not an excess from new let alone after 30,000 miles of abuse.
It took me a month to clock up 600 miles. There were three problems I wanted fixed in the free service - the reserve tap position didn't work and I'd run out of fuel a couple of times; there was a small oil leak behind the engine sprocket, and I asked them to position the air valves on the forks 45 degrees from the front as per the handbook.
However, when I came to collect the bike I was not impressed. All I could see that had been done was that they had sprayed a load of chain lube on the back wheel instead of the chain. The bike idled too high and on the way home I ran out of petrol because they hadn't repaired the fuel tap. A further visit to the dealer, in a rather annoyed frame of mind, soon rectified matters.
In March '84 I had to have a new rear suspension adjusting belt because it snapped which appears to be a fairly common problem. It failed when the teeth stripped off, although lack of proper tensioning is another cause. The seat lock also failed. They sent me the wrong lock and I had to graft the helmet lock part from the old one on to the new.
Then, there were the handling problems. The OE Yokahamas were naff to say the least. Bumping up the fork air pressure helps tame the high speed wobble but doesn't get rid of it. The handlebar fairing was the cause of much high speed nastiness, in later models it was dropped, the punters offered a naked bike or a fully faired one. Delightful as the Yam was to swing through the curves, with more power than many a big four and less weight than most 250s (320lbs) it could hardly fail to entertain, but that lack of weight meant it was susceptible to speed wobbles.
Probably, Yamaha had forgotten to pay attention to maximum reduction of unsprung weight; of paramount importance in a bike so light and fast. Comfort was better for the pillion than the rider. The rider's seat makes itself known on long runs but wind pressure at 100mph actually lifts weight off arms and 200 mile journeys can be undertaken without the need to convalesce for a couple of days afterwards.
Vibration is less than on previous models and does not intrude enough at 100mph to make you back off, the engine buzzing away at a fairly relaxed 7500rpm. The bike is geared for a top speed of 125mph at 10,000rpm, although 9300rpm and 120mph is as much as it can manage under normal circumstances.
The Powervalve really makes an effect from 6000rpm, with grin inducing acceleration and exhaust noise. Many a 550 four can be burned off, especially where the road curves. But that does not mean it's impossible to potter around on the RD, just that it's so much fun to get the power on it's very hard to resist. The bike runs a bit on the rich side and can be made to go faster by altering the carbs, but it's cheaper to buy a bit of extra petrol than new pistons...fitting Allspeed pipes is a good way to gain extra power between 6 and 8000rpm. It's a good idea to fit an Ledar induction kit as well.
Any RD is a piece of cake to service. There's no valvegear for starters. There is no real need to do a decoke, although the baffles tend to seize in if not removed every now and again. A lot of crud does collect in the bottom of the carbs, so it's worth removing the drain plugs. Oil pump, carbs and powervalves need the odd bit of attention.
In my first year of ownership, I covered 10,400 miles with an average fuel consumption of 53mpg, aided by a larger gearbox sprocket, although acceleration did suffer. The original spark plugs lasted 3200 miles, the rear tyre 4600 miles, the front 9000 miles, rear pads 6200 miles. I replaced the tyres with Roadrunners, okay in the dry but not too impressive in the wet. I also fitted a Mead Speed race fairing which helped with the handling, performance and economy, at the expense of restricted steering and wrist ache on short journeys.
In my second year I covered 14,700 miles with fuel down to 45mpg. I had removed the race fairing and ventured abroad for the first time in the company of a GPz550. My LC had to be revved to keep pace with the GPz, which managed 10-15mpg better than the LC. Worst consumption dipped to 33mpg whilst the Kawasaki managed over 45mpg.
I replaced the exhaust flange gaskets at 10,600 miles after they had started to leak. The original front disc pads were replaced at 14000 miles by EBC items. My second set of spark plugs lasted 9400 miles and the next set lasted 7400 miles. The Avon rear tyre was replaced after 12500 miles by a Pirelli Phantom which was a lot better and worked well with the Avon front. The original chain and sprockets were replaced at 17,100 miles by Reynold items. The EBC rear disc pads wore out after 13900 miles and replaced by Vesrah pads. At 25000 miles I replaced the exhaust and flange gaskets.
I kept the RD for nearly three years before I was tempted to trade it for a GPZ900. In the last six months, I replaced the Phantom, which lasted 11000 miles, with a Dunlop K181 which was better still. Another set of plugs lasted 8500 miles. In just over six months I added another 6600 miles with an average of 47mpg. With 32000 miles on the clock I was reluctant to sell my RD but I could not resist an excellent trade in deal.
Julian Webb
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Great, I thought, I've passed my bike test, but what bike to buy now? My fevered mind had no problems coming up with an answer and in company with my wallet it decided a 350 would be best for me. After scraping up the cash for the bike (and the phenomenal insurance premium) I was the proud owner of a 1986 YPVS with 16000 miles on the clock. Due to the dealer's delivery date being well optimistic I had a mere 24 hours to get used to the bike before an arranged 1000 mile round trip from Humberside to Potters Bar.
The dealer had fitted a new rear tyre and powervalve seals, as well as doing the normal service. The seals seemed okay but the rear tyre was a tubed item and the bike weaved badly around fast corners. I later fitted a Metz to match the front and all was fine after that. The trip down the A1 to London went well, the screen was disappointing, directing wind straight at my helmet, making cruising above 90mph for any length of time extremely uncomfortable indeed. After arrival at my friends, I then found I had to ride into the centre of London on a bike I'd only owned for 24 hours and leave it alone all day without a lock!
Thus did I find that a 350 hates traffic, the gap between first and second being too large for my tastes and after a fast run on the dreaded M25 the motor soon started to overheat, the gauge nudging the redline all the way in. I was apprehensive to say the least about leaving the bike unlocked for the day, but it was still there when I returned so all my sweating was for nothing. The trip out of the capital at night was worse. Up here, in the quiet north, I'm not used to taxis and everyone else being so unfriendly (to put it mildly). The bike was a pig in traffic and I do my best to avoid busy town centres even now that I'm used to the Yamaha. Why a watercooled twin with the much heralded benefits of powervalves should prove so nasty in traffic is beyond comprehension.
The ride back north still rates as one of my favourites, the weather was perfect and the bike behaved impeccably, even though it was gulping two stroke oil faster than I was used to. 400 miles to a litre still seems excessive to me.
Through the summer of 1990 I had a great time blasting around everywhere with the motor showing no signs of abuse at all and carrying on with just a rear tyre every 4000 miles and little else. It was not until October that the troubles started. I'd covered 15000 miles before the powervalve seals started to blow, and since this affected power quite considerably, I bought new seals and was going to fit them one weekend when two days before the engine seized solid.
I stripped it down to find horrendous amounts of damage. The powervalves were twisted, the left-hand piston had virtually disintegrated, the crank bearings had seized and the head was damaged. I was not best pleased but I sold my other bike, a Triumph Tiger Cub, to pay for the new bits and eventually got the thing running again.
400 miles later it happened again, the centre bearings in the crank seizing before any more damage could be done. This time I could find the source of the problem - the oil pump which although delivering to both carbs wasn't supplying enough to the left-hand side. Luckily, for me, my dealer managed to wrangle a new crank out of Yamaha, and this was fitted together with a new oil pump. I put the engine back together but when I filled it up with coolant the head gasket, a new pattern one, decided to fail and dump half a pint of the stuff into the crankcases. A genuine gasket solved the problem and the engine ran very smoothly once run in. Well, it did for a while, anyway.
Meanwhile, other things had decided to give up as well. While it was stood over the winter waiting for engine bits, I figured the front calipers must have seized, judging from the noise emanating from the front end. I duly stripped and cleaned them, not my favourite job, but this didn't make any difference. It wasn't until the speedo cable seized and I had to fit a new one that the noises went away......boy, I was pissed off!
Next, was a leaking fork seal, easy enough except the bottom bush pulled through the top one when I separated the fork leg. Also, the pattern seal I fitted leaked. One new set of bushes and genuine fork seal later, it was okay and the other side has stayed sound too.
Then I got a misfire and a loss of power complete with oil being forced out of the clutch case. I thought a crank seal had blown but when I fitted new ones it didn't cure the misfire. So, I checked the electrics out - all okay except for the coil and maybe the CDI which Yamaha haven't been kind enough to release any data on. I fitted a secondhand coil and it lasted 500 miles. Now, that's up to date and I'm pondering whether to buy a new coil or trust to another used one again....
Well, I've done 18000 miles on the bike and generally I've been happy with it, if the coil and oil pump hadn't decided to give up I would be happier, but I guess that's life. I've fitted one heavy duty chain which has been excellent. The sprockets are okay, too. The only thing I've bought of note is a clutch lever, a result of leaving the bike on the sidestand facing slightly downhill.
As for performance, it may not live up to the latest 250 strokers, but I think I can live with that......it's brilliant round corners and I've kept up with everything I've had dices with so far. Indeed, I've had to take the centrestand off because of it grounding round the corners, the footrests are the next to hit the deck and that's quite far enough for me.
The LC is comfortable on long journeys and even with a full tank bag and a pillion on board, will cruise at 95mph with a bit in hand. The front brakes are a little spongy but some Goodridge should cure that. I reckon the clutch will be the next to go in a couple of thousand miles - the springs feel weak but it's still very smooth so I'm leaving it alone until it starts becoming grabby. One nuisance is the useless plastic holders for the two rear bulbs - they either vibrate out of the light or blow the bulb at the rate of one about every 500 miles. The front light is good at night and the bulbs have proved sound so far.
These Yamahas tend to attract owners who neglect and thrash them, so buying a secondhand one is full of pitfalls. Some have done high mileages, others end up in breakers with less than 20,000 miles on the clock - this is good from the spares point of view, I suppose, but not too comforting for long term peace of mind.
I seriously doubt whether I would buy another, the powervalves themselves proving to be more trouble than they are worth. With insurance being what it is I would be limited to a 400cc bike and if I sell this I would probably buy an older 350LC in need of cosmetic treatment.
Mike Buckley
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Buying a ten year old RD350LC is a serious business. The bike had gone through no less than seven owners, sported 39000 miles but looked neat enough in its way. Invariably, these bikes end up modified. This one had clip-ons, spannies and a mild porting job. It crackled into life first kick, a heavy dose of pollutants soon clearing up to a mild haze and there was a loud clunk into first gear.
The watercooled motor rattled away merrily, it being difficult to know which noises were okay and which were signs of demise, the best way to test them was to see how easily they would wheelie. The powerband varies from bike to bike depending on the state of tune. This one went wild at 6000 revs and then died a death at 9500rpm. Sufficient to get the front wheel off the ground in third gear just on the back of acceleration without needing to abuse the clutch. I concluded that the engine was basically sound.
The chassis, when everything is in good nick, ain't half bad, but many of the components are short-lived. The forks and shock are both poor quality from new, although the former can be stiffened with heavier springs and a brace, the shock should be replaced. Put it this way, the shock would let the back end bounce around so violently that if it hasn't been replaced the bike would've been written off by now.
The swinging arm was a bit loose on the machine I was considering buying, which probably meant the mono-track bearings were on the way out as well! It's a tedious job but not too expensive. I couldn't find any movement at the front end but the caliper action was poor and the lever was all mush - the brake hoses hadn't been replaced with Goodridge, so it was no great surprise.
After much haggling, the 1983 machine was mine for £425. The stock engine makes about 50 horses, but it isn't the amount of power developed that's so impressive, but the way it's delivered in one big punch when the motor comes into its powerband and the fact that the mass is only 350lbs. Consequently, the ride home soon degenerated into a race with everything in sight, the RD easily burning off the cages, who were left to cough on the exhaust fumes.
With the modified engine, there was a reluctance to run below 3000rpm, some popping and banging in the exhaust, and the need to keep the throttle moving. I knew from past experience that if I insisted on pottering around at 2000 revs in top gear for any length of time then the plugs would oil up, the engine refusing to start until a new set was fitted. This is a minor price to pay for the fun factor and a viable excuse to ring-ding-a-ding everywhere at full throttle.
The engine is rubber mounted in the tubular frame, which looks like a Rob North rip-off and pays more than passing homage to the old Yamaha racers, so vibes only get through at the top end of the rev range when just about everything buzzes. The ferocity of the vibration only becomes evident in the exhausts which are mounted directly on to the engine. Exhaust cracking is a chronic problem on LC's, the ones on my bike showing signs of being welded back together at least two times. The matt black paint falls off with tiresome regularity but they don't rust from the inside out so they can be kept going for ages.
I had one exhaust split on me after about a month of ownership. The engine refused to run so I was towed home by another LC. The way the power came in on his bike made the bars jerk out of my hands and I only stopped myself falling off by getting two feet down at about 50mph! After giving him a good talking to, we wobbled home in a more or less predictable manner but my shoulders were sore from all the effort needed. I had several old exhausts from past exploits with an LC in the garage, the bike was soon back on the road.
The bike settled down to a reasonable sort of life, running well for a month then giving some trouble. I'd done the swinging arm and suspension bearings as soon as I got home, though it was actually reasonably stable up to 80mph, a sure sign that the frame was stiff enough. One excursion to 120mph, though, had soon convinced me that decent swinging arm bearings were desperately needed, thanks to a pant staining speed wobble. The back end stayed fine for two months until the rear shock started going crazy, the damping having taken that moment to do a disappearing act. RD's do need a reasonable shock, so I bought a used S & W which went on without any hassle.
LC's will run fine on most rubber, a lot of people favour Metzelers but personally I'm more than happy with Avon Roadrunners as they last better and grip well (5000 rear, 8000 miles front). The bike came with some newish Japlops that whilst tolerable in the dry did the usual sliding tricks in the wet. Back wheel slides were controllable if needing the occasional boot down, but the front wheel would shoot away without any hope of controlling it. I soon switched to Avon Roadrunners.
In the fourth month, after nearly 5000 miles, huge clouds of smoke out of the exhaust heralded the demise of the crankshaft seals. Actually, the main bearings had gone as well. An exchange crank was £250. The Yam has a proper oil system with separate tank and pump, but when they are revved really hard, which is almost compulsory behaviour on RD350s, the cranks don't last long. The original would go for 20 to 30,000 miles but exchange ones only do about half that. The engine was easy to work on, a rebuild taking about two hours.
Whilst the cases were split I poked around in the gearbox as there was a lot of whine from that area, a symptom of the cogs' case hardening wearing off. The gearbox action was reasonable without any false neutrals, so when I couldn't see any obvious wear I was happy enough to leave well alone, even though I had a box full of gearbox parts. The best way of preserving the gearbox is to change its oil every 1000 miles.
3000 miles later I wished I'd looked a little harder when I found a puddle of oil under the bike. The gearchange's shaft seal had gone, it came out with a bit of chisel work and was glued back in. The rest of the engine was oil tight, not that it made much difference as a pint of Silkolene was burnt off in the exhausts every 50 miles. The dose of pollutants was dead in line with the 30mpg fuel consumption.
There's no way of getting away from the fact that RD350's are expensive beasts to run. The chain, probably because of all the wheelies and the vicious power, lasted for less than 5000 miles and the brake pads would not do much more, down to the frequent insane doses of braking to avoid crashes. LC's need very fast reactions to ride well!
The brakes had needed a full stripdown, Goodridge hoses and a new set of EBC pads before they began to work in a modern manner. When well set up they would produce brilliant stoppies that threatened to throw me right over the bars. The rear drum was a sensible feature that never gave a moment's worry. Wet weather riding was a bit naughty as the brakes took on a very wooden feel until the tyres suddenly wanted to go into a massive slide. The wheels, by the way, were in a permanent state of white corrosion.
Rainy weather had the engine running on one cylinder, suddenly cutting in to make the back tyre slide as frightening as the front on the brakes. After much pissing around the problem turned out merely to be a dodgy HT cap! The rest of the electrics were passable rather than stunning. The horn drowned out by the spannies and the light good for 50 to 60mph cruising on back roads. The rectifiers aren't the toughest in the business so it's worth checking by riding with the lights on when buying used. Usually, it's corroded connectors and rotted wiring that causes problems at this kind of age, but my bike was rewired.
It'd also worn out its bores a couple of times and this was to be my machine's undoing. With 53000 miles completed, I could feel that the engine was losing its edge. Wheelies were a matter of massive abuse and doing the ton was so much hard work that it wasn't worth the effort. Cruising along at 70mph I had my hand hovering over the clutch just in case. The first I knew of the motor locking up was the back wheel screaming. I grabbed the clutch and we wobbled off the road.
One of the pistons had cracked up, not an uncommon problem but an expensive one as the bits can take out the whole motor. The bores last from 15 to 25,000 miles depending on the level of abuse and the quality of the components fitted. I'd already rebuilt a spare engine, was only off the road for a weekend. There wasn't much left of the old mill that I could use! That's the price paid for riding one of the most wickedly fun machines on the road.
J.K.
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Firstly, I'm not a born again biker. Nor am I some spotty youth. I fall into a vague category of mid-twenties, thought into action, biker. Like the majority of males in this country I have thought about riding bikes since I was knee high to a Superdream but only recently have I done anything about this frequent urge.
Until I tool my test in Dec '93 my biking experience consisted of trips to Brands Hatch and a terrifyingly fast, helmetless pillion ride on the back of my brother's Honda CM125 Custom (well, I was only ten). I had given up any real hope of riding bikes due to the feeling of stupidity I suspected I would experience trying to learn with a bunch of sixteen year old Foggerty wannabes.
Just over a year ago I found myself without a girlfriend and a car for the first time since I was one of those sixteen year old wannabes (Freddie Spencer, in my case). This state of affairs coincided with the appearance of one of CSM's mega deals. A third off a Supercourse, so on a whim I booked up and duly past first time after five days of mid winter drenching and freezing.
I decided that if I could still enjoy riding after that then motorcycles were for me. The test was the easy bit, compared to finding that important first bike. It had to be not too slow to bore me to death, yet not to fast to completely scare or kill me. It had to be affordable. So what did I get? After four months I bought an 350LC.
A 1986 F2 YPVS with 31000 miles on the clock. I bought the bike for cash, which saved a hundred notes off the asking price of £1395 from a local dealer in Southend-on-Sea, who said that the bike was mechanically perfect (well, it probably was 31000 miles ago).
First impressions were not good as I had the bike delivered to my flat, so that I could practice up and down the street. Things felt fine until I took it out on the motorway, which was just out of town. I was screaming along merrily, not thrashing anything too hard when I just thought let's go up to 80mph. The bastard engine seized on me which was not good news. Many things flashed before my eyes as I slid along. Unfortunately, pulling in the clutch was not one of them. Yes, I know, what a knob, but no-one told me this before.
More by luck than judgement I managed to stay upright until the back wheel freed itself after about 500 yards of ice-skating without the ice. The looks on the faces of the cagers that all cleared a path must've been a sight to see. I considered my lot as not a very good one. I sat by the side of the road waiting to test this biker brotherhood story I'd heard about.
A guy on a Goldwing did the honours by taking me to the phone and back. Whilst on his stead I was tempted by the comfort and sure-footedness of the golden one, until I noticed that the bloke was about sixty and looked like an ageing wild one. Thanks, whoever you were.
The dealer duly turned up and was shocked to see me and the bike in one piece, which did my ego a world of good. I did not have the hump, I just wanted to get the bike sorted so I could go back out on it. I was hooked. The bike and I were taken back to the shop and the machine was sorted in a couple of hours. The shop told me that there had been no damage to the engine (there never is when it's their responsibility to do a repair) and that it'd probably seized due to the previous owner having changed the gearing to increase the traffic light GP kicks (70mph=7000rpm), who'd also run the carburation too lean. This guy was obviously a hooligan as he had traded in the 350 for a 500LC.
Since that early frightening start things have got both better and worse.
In the summer I used the excuse of free accommodation to follow my parents up to the Lake District. At this point I had only ridden the bike 1200 miles in three months so was eager to get some more serious miles under my belt. Nothing to do to the bike except top up the two stroke with anything to hand and away we go. Stopped over the night in Stevenage to get some much needed stress relief from an old girlfriend. Then leave the next day at 11.00am. I took the M1, A5 route to get past Birmingham and blast all the way up the M6 to Widermere.
The weather was fine so was my mood. The bike was running okay and not burning too much oil. Parent's cottage was hit after an uneventful six hour, 300 mile non-stop trip except for fuel. After a couple of days annoying my nephew and enjoying the scenery I headed home.
I took my old man's advice and went over the Dales on the route back. The idea was a sound one, involving a blast on the A684 over to the A1 north of Ripon and then all the way to London. The A684 was a great undulating, sweeping racetrack of a road with no old bill to be seen. I stopped off at Hawes, which had a motorcycle cafe, where I found the said old bill drinking tea with all the Fartblood, EXUP merchants out there on weekend blasts. I was soon excommunicated, being a southern softy on a smoking screamer (well, f..k 'em).
The only problem with this scenic route was the length of time it took before I got to the A1. But, I thought, no worries I will go hell for leather once I hit the A1, which I did but over 200 miles of shooting on the inside of trucks and num-nut cagers started to take its toll. I did acrobatics on the bike just to stretch various parts of my increasingly knackered body and mind.
Anyway, I made it to Stevenage again. The worst thing that happened on the trip was the back wheel locking up for fifty yards when I pulled into a service station with no feelings in my extremities. The trip was only 700 miles but it had been enough for me to realise that touring should not be done on an LC. Well, not without a pillion to rub away all the aches and pains, but that's another story.
Fuel had come out at around 35mpg, which was due to the frenetic style of riding and the Stage 2 carb's installed. Two stroke went west at about 200mpp. The next day a pool of oil lay under the bike and when I started her up she sounded awful, but then again she always did. An experienced biker told me that the big-end had gone. The AA took the bike to a mechanic's in Dagenham.
The fun really started when I decided to take the engine out myself in order to save some cash. Took 18 hours compared to the Haynes manual figure of one! This is when I realised it was better for the shop to do the work, that 18 hours was no joke. A combination of circumstances resulted in this excess of time, but the lessons learnt were to avoid working at night, avoid working in the open, don't do the job without the right tools (or you break things), read the sections in the manual thoroughly before starting the job, don't take short-cuts and if help's available take it.
£180 later I was told that there was nothing wrong except stuck Powervalves. I put the lump back in and in the process stripped half the paint off the petrol tank (left the bike on its side), broke the kickstart and snapped the combined throttle/oil pump cable. Don't buy a pattern cable, mine was an inch too short and was only £4 less than the £19 genuine article. I f..ked the carbs during this process (rather painful - Ed) - don't forgot to mark the throttle valve assembles as they must go on the correct carb.
Another trip was spent with the AA man to Westcliff and then a fun evening pushing the 364lb heap to another garage three miles away. They got the bike going and another £50 disappeared from my wallet. By then the clutch was slipping. The next day no go again! So I pushed it to yet another shop, a bike breakers but the animal behind the counter reckoned no problem, he'd get it going.
They did, but only after dropping the bike and then denying it. I found a broken clutch lever, bent bars and wrecked fairing subframe around the clocks. This experience, plus another carb balance, cost £450. The bike looked and went like shit, wouldn't even clock up a ton and not pulling beyond 8000 revs.
Yes, I know, what a prat I am but I have learnt my lesson. Performance-wise I've never had more than a 110 on the clock which probably equates to the ton in real terms. Even more disappointing, I've never experienced a real power band of any sort. Everyone who listens to the engine reckons it's shagged, which is pretty much what the shop did to me.
Fair enough, a fool and his money are easily parted, but when you think that I will never touch that place again and tell everyone I meet to do the same, it could eventually cost them more than me.
Normal running costs have included a pint of two stroke oil every 200 miles, plugs lasting about 1500 miles with cleaning and tyre wear in 3000 miles was minimal on Pirelli Stradas. For insurance I had to cough up £195 (Bennetts) as a first time bike with garage, age 24 and living in Southend. Which I didn't think too bad, considering that I was quoted £500 for the same TPFT for a GT550!
Would I advise anyone to buy an RD. Well, yes, I may be an idiot but even I can see that treated well the bike would be cheap to run, loads of fun and do more than the ton. Treated badly, only the second statement would be true.
I shall sell the bike soon and hope that I find as big as fool as me (shouldn't be a problem) and then it's four stroke reliability for me. Now, where did I see that XJ600?
Jeff Soley
I'd just sold my CBR600 and was waiting for a good CBR900 to turn up, so bunged the RD350's owner a few hundred quid. For reasons beyond comprehension he'd fitted a stock exhaust and proper handlebars, which made the bike much more civilised but somewhat took the fun away from screaming around on an old stroker. It still had a heavy dose of power at five grand, so much so that the worn out suspension produced a mighty wobble as the front wheel went all light.
By combining max revs with some clutch abuse the bike would wheelie very nicely, threatening to loop the loop. Experimenting with the wheelie potential through a crowded city center isn't exactly recommended. Especially not when it all goes wrong and the front wheel lands on the wing of one of those expensive Jag's. I picked both myself and the machine up, did a running start and disappeared through the traffic before the Jag owner could vent his anger.
An interesting trick I soon perfected was to aviate the front wheel up on to the back of a car and then motor over its roof! There was loads of clanging as the undercarriage and car body interfaced in a carnage dance but the bike always won out! The numberplate was so battered that there was no way anyone could read it - not that it really mattered, the last time the bike was registered was in 1992! I always took a different route to work to make sure no-one was waiting for me.
The bike wasn't much cop out of town. I suspect the frame was a bit bent because it went all wobbly as soon as a bit of speed was indulged. Not that stock RD350LC's ever felt glued to the road. But this was a whole different ballgame, with the bars twitching in my hands and the back end squirming all over the shop. The suspension was shot as well, which didn't help.
The only good thing about the front end was a rebuilt brake that would shake the forks and squeal the tyre. Unfortunately, the bike didn't want to pull up in a straight line, veered all over the road with a mind of its own. On the overrun, the engine popped away like a machine gun but didn't help slow the bike down.
It took four weeks to find a CBR900, then winter was starting so I thought I'd give the RD a go and keep the CBR for the odd sunny day until spring. Had to be very careful in the wet, too much throttle had the back wheel going into a massive slide that threatened to batter the bike into the side of innocent cars. Fun enough in its destructive way, metal fatigue was running so strongly through the chassis that any untoward violence would probably have broken it up.
Didn't stop me doing the daily commute, more or less mastering the wee beastie to the extent that on dry roads I usually maxed the engine out. Don't know what it needed but all it got was fresh oil in the tank and one spark plug chop when it refused to start.
Didn't complain until one very cold January morning when I was late for work. The engine was revved through the gears until the whole chassis buzzed with the vibes. I had begun to wonder if the main bearings were starting to knock, confirmed when the engine seized up solid. Before I could operate the clutch lever, the bike had gone into a massive wobble/skid that snaked the RD into the side of a bus.
The bike's revenge was to land on top of me. Amazingly, I managed to throw the thing off but not before I was covered in oil, petrol and battery acid! I was helped along in this act of desperation because the headstock had snapped off so it wasn't the whole bike trying to merge me with the tarmac. I was still bruised and bloodied, took some consolation in the complete wreckage that lay before my disbelieving eyes!
Just about all my friends had at some time put a leg over the RD350, so it was a good excuse for a massive piss up to mourn its passing. The next day I fell off the CBR900 and did about a grand and a half's worth of damage! A bad week!
Pete Bowles
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In September 1983, I rode my clapped out XL185 down to the nearest discount dealer and bought one of the first Powervalve Yamaha RD350LCs. My journey home was almost 12 miles; I can't think of any words that would describe that exhilarating first ride adequately. I suppose that it was the difference between walking on broken glass and on a sheepskin rug. The bike was so smooth, so quiet and, er, brilliant compared to my old dog of an XL.
The bike had such advanced features, back then, as a well triangulated tubular frame, rising rate rear monoshock, an alloy radiator, rubber mounted engine and air assisted forks. The Powervalve is electronically controlled, altering the exhaust system dynamics so that the maximum peak power can be developed without sacrificing low speed torque. The Powervalve remains in its closed position until 5000rpm and gradually opens up to allow maximum flow at 9000rpm.
The YPVS retains the same size (26mm) carbs as its predecessor, but has 240mm main jets, redesigned needle, slide cutaway and pilot settings. The compression ratio is 6:1, measured from the moment that the exhaust port closes - hence the Powervalve at 5000rpm allows an increase in apparent compression ratio, giving improved torque. To keep the Powervalve clean, it's rotated from the open to closed position when the ignition is switched on or when the engine is restarted. The crankshaft has been redesigned for the claimed 59 horses, but apparently it can handle a lot more horsepower.
One immediate problem was the rear shock, adjusted via a rubber toothed belt connected to a pully wheel behind the right-hand sidepanel. Adjustment necessitated removal of the lockable seat, the right panel and the extraction of a spanner from the toolkit. There was no damping adjustment and not an excess from new let alone after 30,000 miles of abuse.
It took me a month to clock up 600 miles. There were three problems I wanted fixed in the free service - the reserve tap position didn't work and I'd run out of fuel a couple of times; there was a small oil leak behind the engine sprocket, and I asked them to position the air valves on the forks 45 degrees from the front as per the handbook.
However, when I came to collect the bike I was not impressed. All I could see that had been done was that they had sprayed a load of chain lube on the back wheel instead of the chain. The bike idled too high and on the way home I ran out of petrol because they hadn't repaired the fuel tap. A further visit to the dealer, in a rather annoyed frame of mind, soon rectified matters.
In March '84 I had to have a new rear suspension adjusting belt because it snapped which appears to be a fairly common problem. It failed when the teeth stripped off, although lack of proper tensioning is another cause. The seat lock also failed. They sent me the wrong lock and I had to graft the helmet lock part from the old one on to the new.
Then, there were the handling problems. The OE Yokahamas were naff to say the least. Bumping up the fork air pressure helps tame the high speed wobble but doesn't get rid of it. The handlebar fairing was the cause of much high speed nastiness, in later models it was dropped, the punters offered a naked bike or a fully faired one. Delightful as the Yam was to swing through the curves, with more power than many a big four and less weight than most 250s (320lbs) it could hardly fail to entertain, but that lack of weight meant it was susceptible to speed wobbles.
Probably, Yamaha had forgotten to pay attention to maximum reduction of unsprung weight; of paramount importance in a bike so light and fast. Comfort was better for the pillion than the rider. The rider's seat makes itself known on long runs but wind pressure at 100mph actually lifts weight off arms and 200 mile journeys can be undertaken without the need to convalesce for a couple of days afterwards.
Vibration is less than on previous models and does not intrude enough at 100mph to make you back off, the engine buzzing away at a fairly relaxed 7500rpm. The bike is geared for a top speed of 125mph at 10,000rpm, although 9300rpm and 120mph is as much as it can manage under normal circumstances.
The Powervalve really makes an effect from 6000rpm, with grin inducing acceleration and exhaust noise. Many a 550 four can be burned off, especially where the road curves. But that does not mean it's impossible to potter around on the RD, just that it's so much fun to get the power on it's very hard to resist. The bike runs a bit on the rich side and can be made to go faster by altering the carbs, but it's cheaper to buy a bit of extra petrol than new pistons...fitting Allspeed pipes is a good way to gain extra power between 6 and 8000rpm. It's a good idea to fit an Ledar induction kit as well.
Any RD is a piece of cake to service. There's no valvegear for starters. There is no real need to do a decoke, although the baffles tend to seize in if not removed every now and again. A lot of crud does collect in the bottom of the carbs, so it's worth removing the drain plugs. Oil pump, carbs and powervalves need the odd bit of attention.
In my first year of ownership, I covered 10,400 miles with an average fuel consumption of 53mpg, aided by a larger gearbox sprocket, although acceleration did suffer. The original spark plugs lasted 3200 miles, the rear tyre 4600 miles, the front 9000 miles, rear pads 6200 miles. I replaced the tyres with Roadrunners, okay in the dry but not too impressive in the wet. I also fitted a Mead Speed race fairing which helped with the handling, performance and economy, at the expense of restricted steering and wrist ache on short journeys.
In my second year I covered 14,700 miles with fuel down to 45mpg. I had removed the race fairing and ventured abroad for the first time in the company of a GPz550. My LC had to be revved to keep pace with the GPz, which managed 10-15mpg better than the LC. Worst consumption dipped to 33mpg whilst the Kawasaki managed over 45mpg.
I replaced the exhaust flange gaskets at 10,600 miles after they had started to leak. The original front disc pads were replaced at 14000 miles by EBC items. My second set of spark plugs lasted 9400 miles and the next set lasted 7400 miles. The Avon rear tyre was replaced after 12500 miles by a Pirelli Phantom which was a lot better and worked well with the Avon front. The original chain and sprockets were replaced at 17,100 miles by Reynold items. The EBC rear disc pads wore out after 13900 miles and replaced by Vesrah pads. At 25000 miles I replaced the exhaust and flange gaskets.
I kept the RD for nearly three years before I was tempted to trade it for a GPZ900. In the last six months, I replaced the Phantom, which lasted 11000 miles, with a Dunlop K181 which was better still. Another set of plugs lasted 8500 miles. In just over six months I added another 6600 miles with an average of 47mpg. With 32000 miles on the clock I was reluctant to sell my RD but I could not resist an excellent trade in deal.
Julian Webb
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Great, I thought, I've passed my bike test, but what bike to buy now? My fevered mind had no problems coming up with an answer and in company with my wallet it decided a 350 would be best for me. After scraping up the cash for the bike (and the phenomenal insurance premium) I was the proud owner of a 1986 YPVS with 16000 miles on the clock. Due to the dealer's delivery date being well optimistic I had a mere 24 hours to get used to the bike before an arranged 1000 mile round trip from Humberside to Potters Bar.
The dealer had fitted a new rear tyre and powervalve seals, as well as doing the normal service. The seals seemed okay but the rear tyre was a tubed item and the bike weaved badly around fast corners. I later fitted a Metz to match the front and all was fine after that. The trip down the A1 to London went well, the screen was disappointing, directing wind straight at my helmet, making cruising above 90mph for any length of time extremely uncomfortable indeed. After arrival at my friends, I then found I had to ride into the centre of London on a bike I'd only owned for 24 hours and leave it alone all day without a lock!
Thus did I find that a 350 hates traffic, the gap between first and second being too large for my tastes and after a fast run on the dreaded M25 the motor soon started to overheat, the gauge nudging the redline all the way in. I was apprehensive to say the least about leaving the bike unlocked for the day, but it was still there when I returned so all my sweating was for nothing. The trip out of the capital at night was worse. Up here, in the quiet north, I'm not used to taxis and everyone else being so unfriendly (to put it mildly). The bike was a pig in traffic and I do my best to avoid busy town centres even now that I'm used to the Yamaha. Why a watercooled twin with the much heralded benefits of powervalves should prove so nasty in traffic is beyond comprehension.
The ride back north still rates as one of my favourites, the weather was perfect and the bike behaved impeccably, even though it was gulping two stroke oil faster than I was used to. 400 miles to a litre still seems excessive to me.
Through the summer of 1990 I had a great time blasting around everywhere with the motor showing no signs of abuse at all and carrying on with just a rear tyre every 4000 miles and little else. It was not until October that the troubles started. I'd covered 15000 miles before the powervalve seals started to blow, and since this affected power quite considerably, I bought new seals and was going to fit them one weekend when two days before the engine seized solid.
I stripped it down to find horrendous amounts of damage. The powervalves were twisted, the left-hand piston had virtually disintegrated, the crank bearings had seized and the head was damaged. I was not best pleased but I sold my other bike, a Triumph Tiger Cub, to pay for the new bits and eventually got the thing running again.
400 miles later it happened again, the centre bearings in the crank seizing before any more damage could be done. This time I could find the source of the problem - the oil pump which although delivering to both carbs wasn't supplying enough to the left-hand side. Luckily, for me, my dealer managed to wrangle a new crank out of Yamaha, and this was fitted together with a new oil pump. I put the engine back together but when I filled it up with coolant the head gasket, a new pattern one, decided to fail and dump half a pint of the stuff into the crankcases. A genuine gasket solved the problem and the engine ran very smoothly once run in. Well, it did for a while, anyway.
Meanwhile, other things had decided to give up as well. While it was stood over the winter waiting for engine bits, I figured the front calipers must have seized, judging from the noise emanating from the front end. I duly stripped and cleaned them, not my favourite job, but this didn't make any difference. It wasn't until the speedo cable seized and I had to fit a new one that the noises went away......boy, I was pissed off!
Next, was a leaking fork seal, easy enough except the bottom bush pulled through the top one when I separated the fork leg. Also, the pattern seal I fitted leaked. One new set of bushes and genuine fork seal later, it was okay and the other side has stayed sound too.
Then I got a misfire and a loss of power complete with oil being forced out of the clutch case. I thought a crank seal had blown but when I fitted new ones it didn't cure the misfire. So, I checked the electrics out - all okay except for the coil and maybe the CDI which Yamaha haven't been kind enough to release any data on. I fitted a secondhand coil and it lasted 500 miles. Now, that's up to date and I'm pondering whether to buy a new coil or trust to another used one again....
Well, I've done 18000 miles on the bike and generally I've been happy with it, if the coil and oil pump hadn't decided to give up I would be happier, but I guess that's life. I've fitted one heavy duty chain which has been excellent. The sprockets are okay, too. The only thing I've bought of note is a clutch lever, a result of leaving the bike on the sidestand facing slightly downhill.
As for performance, it may not live up to the latest 250 strokers, but I think I can live with that......it's brilliant round corners and I've kept up with everything I've had dices with so far. Indeed, I've had to take the centrestand off because of it grounding round the corners, the footrests are the next to hit the deck and that's quite far enough for me.
The LC is comfortable on long journeys and even with a full tank bag and a pillion on board, will cruise at 95mph with a bit in hand. The front brakes are a little spongy but some Goodridge should cure that. I reckon the clutch will be the next to go in a couple of thousand miles - the springs feel weak but it's still very smooth so I'm leaving it alone until it starts becoming grabby. One nuisance is the useless plastic holders for the two rear bulbs - they either vibrate out of the light or blow the bulb at the rate of one about every 500 miles. The front light is good at night and the bulbs have proved sound so far.
These Yamahas tend to attract owners who neglect and thrash them, so buying a secondhand one is full of pitfalls. Some have done high mileages, others end up in breakers with less than 20,000 miles on the clock - this is good from the spares point of view, I suppose, but not too comforting for long term peace of mind.
I seriously doubt whether I would buy another, the powervalves themselves proving to be more trouble than they are worth. With insurance being what it is I would be limited to a 400cc bike and if I sell this I would probably buy an older 350LC in need of cosmetic treatment.
Mike Buckley
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Buying a ten year old RD350LC is a serious business. The bike had gone through no less than seven owners, sported 39000 miles but looked neat enough in its way. Invariably, these bikes end up modified. This one had clip-ons, spannies and a mild porting job. It crackled into life first kick, a heavy dose of pollutants soon clearing up to a mild haze and there was a loud clunk into first gear.
The watercooled motor rattled away merrily, it being difficult to know which noises were okay and which were signs of demise, the best way to test them was to see how easily they would wheelie. The powerband varies from bike to bike depending on the state of tune. This one went wild at 6000 revs and then died a death at 9500rpm. Sufficient to get the front wheel off the ground in third gear just on the back of acceleration without needing to abuse the clutch. I concluded that the engine was basically sound.
The chassis, when everything is in good nick, ain't half bad, but many of the components are short-lived. The forks and shock are both poor quality from new, although the former can be stiffened with heavier springs and a brace, the shock should be replaced. Put it this way, the shock would let the back end bounce around so violently that if it hasn't been replaced the bike would've been written off by now.
The swinging arm was a bit loose on the machine I was considering buying, which probably meant the mono-track bearings were on the way out as well! It's a tedious job but not too expensive. I couldn't find any movement at the front end but the caliper action was poor and the lever was all mush - the brake hoses hadn't been replaced with Goodridge, so it was no great surprise.
After much haggling, the 1983 machine was mine for £425. The stock engine makes about 50 horses, but it isn't the amount of power developed that's so impressive, but the way it's delivered in one big punch when the motor comes into its powerband and the fact that the mass is only 350lbs. Consequently, the ride home soon degenerated into a race with everything in sight, the RD easily burning off the cages, who were left to cough on the exhaust fumes.
With the modified engine, there was a reluctance to run below 3000rpm, some popping and banging in the exhaust, and the need to keep the throttle moving. I knew from past experience that if I insisted on pottering around at 2000 revs in top gear for any length of time then the plugs would oil up, the engine refusing to start until a new set was fitted. This is a minor price to pay for the fun factor and a viable excuse to ring-ding-a-ding everywhere at full throttle.
The engine is rubber mounted in the tubular frame, which looks like a Rob North rip-off and pays more than passing homage to the old Yamaha racers, so vibes only get through at the top end of the rev range when just about everything buzzes. The ferocity of the vibration only becomes evident in the exhausts which are mounted directly on to the engine. Exhaust cracking is a chronic problem on LC's, the ones on my bike showing signs of being welded back together at least two times. The matt black paint falls off with tiresome regularity but they don't rust from the inside out so they can be kept going for ages.
I had one exhaust split on me after about a month of ownership. The engine refused to run so I was towed home by another LC. The way the power came in on his bike made the bars jerk out of my hands and I only stopped myself falling off by getting two feet down at about 50mph! After giving him a good talking to, we wobbled home in a more or less predictable manner but my shoulders were sore from all the effort needed. I had several old exhausts from past exploits with an LC in the garage, the bike was soon back on the road.
The bike settled down to a reasonable sort of life, running well for a month then giving some trouble. I'd done the swinging arm and suspension bearings as soon as I got home, though it was actually reasonably stable up to 80mph, a sure sign that the frame was stiff enough. One excursion to 120mph, though, had soon convinced me that decent swinging arm bearings were desperately needed, thanks to a pant staining speed wobble. The back end stayed fine for two months until the rear shock started going crazy, the damping having taken that moment to do a disappearing act. RD's do need a reasonable shock, so I bought a used S & W which went on without any hassle.
LC's will run fine on most rubber, a lot of people favour Metzelers but personally I'm more than happy with Avon Roadrunners as they last better and grip well (5000 rear, 8000 miles front). The bike came with some newish Japlops that whilst tolerable in the dry did the usual sliding tricks in the wet. Back wheel slides were controllable if needing the occasional boot down, but the front wheel would shoot away without any hope of controlling it. I soon switched to Avon Roadrunners.
In the fourth month, after nearly 5000 miles, huge clouds of smoke out of the exhaust heralded the demise of the crankshaft seals. Actually, the main bearings had gone as well. An exchange crank was £250. The Yam has a proper oil system with separate tank and pump, but when they are revved really hard, which is almost compulsory behaviour on RD350s, the cranks don't last long. The original would go for 20 to 30,000 miles but exchange ones only do about half that. The engine was easy to work on, a rebuild taking about two hours.
Whilst the cases were split I poked around in the gearbox as there was a lot of whine from that area, a symptom of the cogs' case hardening wearing off. The gearbox action was reasonable without any false neutrals, so when I couldn't see any obvious wear I was happy enough to leave well alone, even though I had a box full of gearbox parts. The best way of preserving the gearbox is to change its oil every 1000 miles.
3000 miles later I wished I'd looked a little harder when I found a puddle of oil under the bike. The gearchange's shaft seal had gone, it came out with a bit of chisel work and was glued back in. The rest of the engine was oil tight, not that it made much difference as a pint of Silkolene was burnt off in the exhausts every 50 miles. The dose of pollutants was dead in line with the 30mpg fuel consumption.
There's no way of getting away from the fact that RD350's are expensive beasts to run. The chain, probably because of all the wheelies and the vicious power, lasted for less than 5000 miles and the brake pads would not do much more, down to the frequent insane doses of braking to avoid crashes. LC's need very fast reactions to ride well!
The brakes had needed a full stripdown, Goodridge hoses and a new set of EBC pads before they began to work in a modern manner. When well set up they would produce brilliant stoppies that threatened to throw me right over the bars. The rear drum was a sensible feature that never gave a moment's worry. Wet weather riding was a bit naughty as the brakes took on a very wooden feel until the tyres suddenly wanted to go into a massive slide. The wheels, by the way, were in a permanent state of white corrosion.
Rainy weather had the engine running on one cylinder, suddenly cutting in to make the back tyre slide as frightening as the front on the brakes. After much pissing around the problem turned out merely to be a dodgy HT cap! The rest of the electrics were passable rather than stunning. The horn drowned out by the spannies and the light good for 50 to 60mph cruising on back roads. The rectifiers aren't the toughest in the business so it's worth checking by riding with the lights on when buying used. Usually, it's corroded connectors and rotted wiring that causes problems at this kind of age, but my bike was rewired.
It'd also worn out its bores a couple of times and this was to be my machine's undoing. With 53000 miles completed, I could feel that the engine was losing its edge. Wheelies were a matter of massive abuse and doing the ton was so much hard work that it wasn't worth the effort. Cruising along at 70mph I had my hand hovering over the clutch just in case. The first I knew of the motor locking up was the back wheel screaming. I grabbed the clutch and we wobbled off the road.
One of the pistons had cracked up, not an uncommon problem but an expensive one as the bits can take out the whole motor. The bores last from 15 to 25,000 miles depending on the level of abuse and the quality of the components fitted. I'd already rebuilt a spare engine, was only off the road for a weekend. There wasn't much left of the old mill that I could use! That's the price paid for riding one of the most wickedly fun machines on the road.
J.K.
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Firstly, I'm not a born again biker. Nor am I some spotty youth. I fall into a vague category of mid-twenties, thought into action, biker. Like the majority of males in this country I have thought about riding bikes since I was knee high to a Superdream but only recently have I done anything about this frequent urge.
Until I tool my test in Dec '93 my biking experience consisted of trips to Brands Hatch and a terrifyingly fast, helmetless pillion ride on the back of my brother's Honda CM125 Custom (well, I was only ten). I had given up any real hope of riding bikes due to the feeling of stupidity I suspected I would experience trying to learn with a bunch of sixteen year old Foggerty wannabes.
Just over a year ago I found myself without a girlfriend and a car for the first time since I was one of those sixteen year old wannabes (Freddie Spencer, in my case). This state of affairs coincided with the appearance of one of CSM's mega deals. A third off a Supercourse, so on a whim I booked up and duly past first time after five days of mid winter drenching and freezing.
I decided that if I could still enjoy riding after that then motorcycles were for me. The test was the easy bit, compared to finding that important first bike. It had to be not too slow to bore me to death, yet not to fast to completely scare or kill me. It had to be affordable. So what did I get? After four months I bought an 350LC.
A 1986 F2 YPVS with 31000 miles on the clock. I bought the bike for cash, which saved a hundred notes off the asking price of £1395 from a local dealer in Southend-on-Sea, who said that the bike was mechanically perfect (well, it probably was 31000 miles ago).
First impressions were not good as I had the bike delivered to my flat, so that I could practice up and down the street. Things felt fine until I took it out on the motorway, which was just out of town. I was screaming along merrily, not thrashing anything too hard when I just thought let's go up to 80mph. The bastard engine seized on me which was not good news. Many things flashed before my eyes as I slid along. Unfortunately, pulling in the clutch was not one of them. Yes, I know, what a knob, but no-one told me this before.
More by luck than judgement I managed to stay upright until the back wheel freed itself after about 500 yards of ice-skating without the ice. The looks on the faces of the cagers that all cleared a path must've been a sight to see. I considered my lot as not a very good one. I sat by the side of the road waiting to test this biker brotherhood story I'd heard about.
A guy on a Goldwing did the honours by taking me to the phone and back. Whilst on his stead I was tempted by the comfort and sure-footedness of the golden one, until I noticed that the bloke was about sixty and looked like an ageing wild one. Thanks, whoever you were.
The dealer duly turned up and was shocked to see me and the bike in one piece, which did my ego a world of good. I did not have the hump, I just wanted to get the bike sorted so I could go back out on it. I was hooked. The bike and I were taken back to the shop and the machine was sorted in a couple of hours. The shop told me that there had been no damage to the engine (there never is when it's their responsibility to do a repair) and that it'd probably seized due to the previous owner having changed the gearing to increase the traffic light GP kicks (70mph=7000rpm), who'd also run the carburation too lean. This guy was obviously a hooligan as he had traded in the 350 for a 500LC.
Since that early frightening start things have got both better and worse.
In the summer I used the excuse of free accommodation to follow my parents up to the Lake District. At this point I had only ridden the bike 1200 miles in three months so was eager to get some more serious miles under my belt. Nothing to do to the bike except top up the two stroke with anything to hand and away we go. Stopped over the night in Stevenage to get some much needed stress relief from an old girlfriend. Then leave the next day at 11.00am. I took the M1, A5 route to get past Birmingham and blast all the way up the M6 to Widermere.
The weather was fine so was my mood. The bike was running okay and not burning too much oil. Parent's cottage was hit after an uneventful six hour, 300 mile non-stop trip except for fuel. After a couple of days annoying my nephew and enjoying the scenery I headed home.
I took my old man's advice and went over the Dales on the route back. The idea was a sound one, involving a blast on the A684 over to the A1 north of Ripon and then all the way to London. The A684 was a great undulating, sweeping racetrack of a road with no old bill to be seen. I stopped off at Hawes, which had a motorcycle cafe, where I found the said old bill drinking tea with all the Fartblood, EXUP merchants out there on weekend blasts. I was soon excommunicated, being a southern softy on a smoking screamer (well, f..k 'em).
The only problem with this scenic route was the length of time it took before I got to the A1. But, I thought, no worries I will go hell for leather once I hit the A1, which I did but over 200 miles of shooting on the inside of trucks and num-nut cagers started to take its toll. I did acrobatics on the bike just to stretch various parts of my increasingly knackered body and mind.
Anyway, I made it to Stevenage again. The worst thing that happened on the trip was the back wheel locking up for fifty yards when I pulled into a service station with no feelings in my extremities. The trip was only 700 miles but it had been enough for me to realise that touring should not be done on an LC. Well, not without a pillion to rub away all the aches and pains, but that's another story.
Fuel had come out at around 35mpg, which was due to the frenetic style of riding and the Stage 2 carb's installed. Two stroke went west at about 200mpp. The next day a pool of oil lay under the bike and when I started her up she sounded awful, but then again she always did. An experienced biker told me that the big-end had gone. The AA took the bike to a mechanic's in Dagenham.
The fun really started when I decided to take the engine out myself in order to save some cash. Took 18 hours compared to the Haynes manual figure of one! This is when I realised it was better for the shop to do the work, that 18 hours was no joke. A combination of circumstances resulted in this excess of time, but the lessons learnt were to avoid working at night, avoid working in the open, don't do the job without the right tools (or you break things), read the sections in the manual thoroughly before starting the job, don't take short-cuts and if help's available take it.
£180 later I was told that there was nothing wrong except stuck Powervalves. I put the lump back in and in the process stripped half the paint off the petrol tank (left the bike on its side), broke the kickstart and snapped the combined throttle/oil pump cable. Don't buy a pattern cable, mine was an inch too short and was only £4 less than the £19 genuine article. I f..ked the carbs during this process (rather painful - Ed) - don't forgot to mark the throttle valve assembles as they must go on the correct carb.
Another trip was spent with the AA man to Westcliff and then a fun evening pushing the 364lb heap to another garage three miles away. They got the bike going and another £50 disappeared from my wallet. By then the clutch was slipping. The next day no go again! So I pushed it to yet another shop, a bike breakers but the animal behind the counter reckoned no problem, he'd get it going.
They did, but only after dropping the bike and then denying it. I found a broken clutch lever, bent bars and wrecked fairing subframe around the clocks. This experience, plus another carb balance, cost £450. The bike looked and went like shit, wouldn't even clock up a ton and not pulling beyond 8000 revs.
Yes, I know, what a prat I am but I have learnt my lesson. Performance-wise I've never had more than a 110 on the clock which probably equates to the ton in real terms. Even more disappointing, I've never experienced a real power band of any sort. Everyone who listens to the engine reckons it's shagged, which is pretty much what the shop did to me.
Fair enough, a fool and his money are easily parted, but when you think that I will never touch that place again and tell everyone I meet to do the same, it could eventually cost them more than me.
Normal running costs have included a pint of two stroke oil every 200 miles, plugs lasting about 1500 miles with cleaning and tyre wear in 3000 miles was minimal on Pirelli Stradas. For insurance I had to cough up £195 (Bennetts) as a first time bike with garage, age 24 and living in Southend. Which I didn't think too bad, considering that I was quoted £500 for the same TPFT for a GT550!
Would I advise anyone to buy an RD. Well, yes, I may be an idiot but even I can see that treated well the bike would be cheap to run, loads of fun and do more than the ton. Treated badly, only the second statement would be true.
I shall sell the bike soon and hope that I find as big as fool as me (shouldn't be a problem) and then it's four stroke reliability for me. Now, where did I see that XJ600?
Jeff Soley