Buying Yamaha XJ Fours

Yamaha's aircooled four cylinder series never really attracted a fanatical following, unlike, say, Kawasaki GPz's. Seen as sensible and urbane rather than exciting and excessive. Perhaps the failure of their triple cylinder XS750 and XS850 set the scene for their later efforts with their fours. Whatever, it really wasn't until the sheer excessive excellence of the watercooled FZR600 and FZR1000, that Yamaha really set the scene in the four stroke camp, though throughout the seventies and eighties they were dominant in the stroker genre.

That's not to say that they are without their merits. If they never really excelled, they also never plummeted to the depths of mediocrity such as Honda's CB550 or their later CBX550, which became synonymous with their naff camchain designs. Early XJ900's had a reputation for shaking themselves into high speed oblivion on bumpy roads and the XJ650's motor could turn finicky if neglected but the overall reputation of the series was for tough engineering in safe if staid chassis.

Age wasn't always kind to them. Rotten wiring, disintegrating switches, including cut-out's, rotting carbs and lack of maintenance could make any of the range, though more usually the XJ550 and 650, very finicky starters. If you find an old XJ that starts easily, chances are that it's been well looked after, if not completely rewired and upgraded electrically.

A contributing factor to poor starting and odd carburation may well be the way the stock exhaust rots away rapidly. Compounded by the difficulty of matching jetting to aftermarket four into one exhausts, especially on the smaller models. This is easy enough to check out on the test run, though it's worth noting that whilst the engine may pull well in second or third, the stutters can appear in the taller gears.

Again, clogged and neglected airfilters are a similar area of concern - the usual ploy of attacking them with a screwdriver can in, say, an XJ650 lead to a large hole in the powerband from 5000 to 7000 revs. Not impossible to live with, as it gives a usually bland delivery of power a bit more urgency when it bites, but occasionally it sends the mixture so lean that pistons are holed or valves burnt around their edges. The early stages of the latter easily spotted by smoke out of the exhaust on the overrun.

That leads on to engine toughness. Basically, they can be long-lived enough to go around the clock (twice in the case of one XJ900 we've come across!) but they do need a bit more regular attention than either GS or GPz fours, though are generally tougher than Honda fours of the same era. The modern XJ600S and XJ900S haven't been around long enough to test their merits at breaking through the 100,000 mile barrier but both so far seem to reflect their more modern design, and mild state of power, by not having any obvious faults.

Neglect of maintenance, especially those all important oil changes, on the rest of the range can quickly lead to some quite nasty engine horrors. Informal destruction testing by lazy or bored UMG contributors has blown up an XJ550 in less than 25000 miles and an XJ750 in 19000 miles. It's rather more difficult to destroy the XJ900 - not because its engine's necessarily any stronger but because its handling's limited the extent to which it could be thrashed without rendering the rider an hospital case. 30,000 miles at the very minimum, more usually 50,000 miles from the later (post '87) models.

The XJ600 and XJ900 go around the clock with the greatest of ease, and almost minimal maintenance. 550's can also achieve that fate with rather a lot more tender loving care. For 650's and 750's it's the exception rather than the rule, usually both in trouble after 50,000 miles even when well cared for - though no doubt some UMG reader will write in to complain he's done a quarter of a million miles on one; in the used bike game anything is possible however improbable.

Apart from the obvious camchain demise, usually around 30,000 miles though sometimes at as much as 50,000 miles (aftermarket replacements often do less than 20,000 miles, though!) wear can strike at the heart of the engine pretty much anywhere. We've heard of an XJ900 with knocking main's at 50,000 miles; of another with knackered valvegear at 40,000 miles, and of another with a disintegrating gearbox at sixty thou. We've even heard of one that had all three maladies at 75000 miles.

The same goes for the smaller fours, with the 650 and 750 most likely to go down. Having said all this, and going all general again, it's an unlucky XJ owner who has any major engine problems before 50,000 miles and a lucky one who remains in a state of grace for more than a hundred thou.

Luckily, any engine wear in XJ's is fairly obvious, through an excess of vibration, engine smoke and rattles or knocks. Clocked examples invariably reveal their age through the gearbox being graunchy and full of false neutrals, though clutch drag is normal after 30,000 miles. Thrashed engines usually leak lots of oil and have a jerky transmission. The way things are, mature owners almost invariably look after their bikes; reflected in both a purring engine and shiny chassis...

Much more worrying than potential engine demise, chassis rot can sweep through the machine like an incurable virus through an African continent. One of the most startling things about buying an old XJ on a sunny day is to find that after leaving it out overnight in the rain the polished finery has degenerated into a rat-like heap of rust! One reason why there are so many rat XJ's is that after spending a weekend cleaning them up, a day's commute in bad weather can leave them looking all ruined again.

As well as the previously mentioned fast rotting exhausts, expect high milers to rust through their petrol tanks, corrode the rear subframes, seize their calipers, warp their discs and cover the whole bike in corrosion. Okay, the finish isn't always that bad and in the first five years and 50,000 miles most keep themselves together in reasonable fettle but when buying an old one or high miler expect the worst.

The corrosion also seems to spread rapidly, so that an aftermarket exhaust can go the same way as the original after as little as a year and even well greased bearings only last 20,000 miles or so. Beneath the corrosion it's quite likely than the engine will be okay and the frame still straight, so it can be seen as a reasonable bargaining point to get the price way down.

Generally, XJ's don't fetch serious money and they were never the kind of class act that appealed to the retro crowd. With a little bit of persistence and hustling genuine bargains can be unearthed on the private market; even dealers don't try to hype their prices to absurd levels.

The cheapest buys are early XJ550's, around the £500 mark for something with a reasonable engine but a chassis that's a bit rough around the edges. The really nice ones, with, say, 30,000 miles on the clock and useful upgrades to the chassis, fetch up to a grand, though paying that much for a bike with so many potential pitfalls down the line isn't really recommended.

XJ650's and XJ750's cost more, though really aren't worth it, given that they are more likely to have engine problems. The only exception, grey import XJ750 Seca's with relatively low miles on the clock and in generally nice nick for £1200 to £1500 - though it's surprising how quickly and expensively the chassis can go off. XJ650's with over 50,000 miles on the clock aren't a good buy, even if advertised at less than £750.

There's a large range of XJ600's, from early rats at £500 right up to nineties models at as much as two grand. £1500 on the private market should buy a jolly nice example with a low mileage engine and a chassis in excellent nick. Even low priced ratty ones can be good value, as the engine is the toughest of the XJ series, usually has loads of life left in them.

Similarly, there's a huge range of XJ900's, from £500 for nasty old rats to as much as £3500 for really excellent nearly new ones. Two grand should buy something in fine fettle with masses of life left in it.

Neither the XJ600S or XJ900S has been around long enough to make it into the lower price range but as little as two grand for the former and three grand for latter will buy a very decent example, an awful lot of modern technology for the money. Happy hunting...

Dick Lewis

Buying GPz Kawasaki Fours

Unlike the other Japanese companies, Kawasaki pursued the perfection of the aircooled, two valve, DOHC four cylinder engine long after they switched over to their watercooled designs in the mid eighties. In particular, the GPz550 mill was almost unaffected by its lack of technology, becoming faster and more economical with each succeeding model. Larger models in the range were more limited by their relatively simple designs but nevertheless can still be put on the pace with some minor mod's.

Their basic usefulness means that there are still plenty on the used market. Ranging from rats with barely running engines to low mileage, well cared for, bikes. Between those two extremes, there are an awful lot of clean, neat and mildly modded machines. The basic engine design lives on in both the GT550/750 and the Zephyrs - however, neither of these ranges offer the mix of speed and practicality of the GPz's, as ever more strident noise and emission laws have left the engine design much muted, though no less tough. Either GT's or Zephyrs can usefully be modded into more exciting playthings - and their prices are moderate.

Good GPz's fetch serious money, up to two grand even for the smallest of the bunch. The reason for this is that they were the kind of bikes that attracted the boy-racers, who just loved to thrash them to death. The ones that weren't ridden with a death-wish thus command high prices because they remain very useful pieces of tackle. However, the engines were basically tough old things that responded to a modicum of attention with excellent longevity, so even the ones with tatty chassis are worth a look, if not a large wedge.

The GPz550 was the best of the bunch in terms of merging speed and frugality, as well as being the nicest handling on the back of its relative lack of mass and power. The kind of bike that could take the daily commute through Central London with something approaching elan - if not narrow it was at least easy turning and moderately comfortable at town speeds. Used mildly but by no means slowly, it had the ability to turn in 60 to 70mpg and not destroy its consumables in short order.

On the other hand, it was equally at home cruising the motorway at ton plus speeds and shooting down country lanes at improbable velocities and angles of lean. Fuel would still hover around 55mpg unless really thrashed when it went down to 45mpg. Although its screen was too low, the fairing managed to take a large amount of the wind and rain off the rider (and, indeed, inspired a few aftermarket versions which had even better protection).

A machine for all seasons, that in the overall analysis is hard to fault. This is more true of later models than earlier ones. An almost unique example of continuous improvement rare in the seventies and eighties (though not the high tech nineties).

Not least in the design of its camchain tensioner, the weakest component in the engine. This was inherited from the Z550, which in turn was inspired (if that's the right word) by the Z500, though the engine can trace its roots back to the Z400 (even though it shares neither bore nor stroke). The earlier the bike the more likely it is to fail, not just down to old age and high mileage, also because minor improvements were applied over the life of the model. Whereas an '89 550's tensioner might last 40-50,000 miles, an '83 model might manage only 25000 miles.

Worse still, various bodges can be applied to the tensioner to get the bike out of the street or showroom. A naff tensioner or camchain isn't the end of the world, can be fixed for around a 100 sovs without splitting the crankcases. Don't ride round with a rattling camchain, if it breaks the valves and pistons end up mashed.

The valvegear's the toughest in the business, needs little maintenance, though it is possible to burn the valves or the guides out from chronic lack of maintenance or mismatched exhaust and carb jetting. As the standard exhaust system's quick rot, 4-1's are all too common. As the engine's highly tuned they can turn the power delivery a bit finicky but well matched jetting does give a bit more power and a lovely howl above 7000 revs. Easy enough to check out on the test ride.

Some engines need a rebore around 50,000 miles, but 75000 miles is possible on motors that have received regular doses of clean oil and filters. Good engines have a nice mechanical rustle, entirely lacking any rattles, taps or knocks. It's always worth taking the engine breather pipe off the airfilter to check for fumes (usually a sign of valves or piston rings going down).

The bottom end's good for at least 75000 miles, maybe over a 100,000 miles on more moderately used machines. The most we've seen on a GPz550 clock's 145,000 miles, the owner claiming that it was more or less stock - if you've done more let us know. Most bikes have now done at least 30,000 miles, not the end of the world but some care needed when looking them over.

Curiously, time and time again, we've seen examples in dealers with 15-20,000 miles on the clock that look and sound like they have done over 50,000 miles. One salesman turned rather nasty when this was pointed out, all but foaming at the mouth about us wasting his valuable time. What seems to happen is that some hard ridden GPz550's traded in for one of the 600's replicas and the dealer then clocks the machine to make up for the large trade-in value he's allowed. Worth watching out for!

We've seen those kind of bikes priced in dealers at £2000 to £2500, though no doubt they will come down quite a bit if lots of dosh is waved under their noses. However, on the private market two grand buys a really immaculate example, which is bargain time because they really are the best of the old style 550's, and something with less than twenty thou on the clock has loads of life left.

At the other end of the market, the ratty but running examples come in at £500 to £600. These are a mixed bag in which neglect has eaten deeply into the chassis and the state of the engine's basically down to how often the oil's been changed. Troubled engines show their anger at neglect in an excess of rattles and smoke, plus a strict toning down of the normal seven grand power punch.

If you're lucky, you'll find a rat with the carbs way out of balance but the rest of the engine basically okay. Carbs out of balance cause the clutch to rattle with a death-wish, the engine churns out secondary vibes (even on the later rubber mounted engines) and performance becomes pathetic. The carbs may be out of balance because they are worn out (after 60,000 miles), which makes fixing them somewhat more expensive. However, all the problems caused by worn or out of balance carbs are also caused by a knackered engine!

Engine spares are difficult but not impossible in breakers. Whole engines, from the same source, are usually well knackered, as crashed bikes are usually repairable (and difficult to suss other than in the sometimes loose handling). Chassis spares are similarly difficult going but many minor items are common to the other Kawasaki models and it's not impossible to fit front ends off other bikes.

Not a bad idea, as by now many of the twin discs will be in a sad condition. They were state of the art in the early 80's, which doesn't say much and basically means they need some muscle, aren't totally homicidal in the wet and can squeal the tyres from moderate velocities. After a time, crap gets into the calipers, the discs score and warp, and the master cylinder often cracks in minor accidents. They are often too far gone to repair, but fairly easy to suss.

The only other chronic weak spot in the chassis is the Uni-trak's bearings which when newish need a yearly grease session but by now will require a six monthly going over with the grease gun. When newish, handling's close to excellent, when the wear gets into them the bike weaves and wobbles, sometimes very viciously. It's easy to blow over a hundred notes sorting it out, sometimes it's so seized and worn that the only way to get it apart is by destroying it!

Unlike GS Suzuki's, the charging system's generally tough. However, the electronic ignition modules are susceptible to demise at high miles, usually when their rubber mounts go hard and let the vibration through. Although, worn engines churn out enough vibes to take them out even if the rubber mounts are okay. Extra rubber mounting's the order of the day, as they are rare in breakers and expensive from dealers. At least it's easy enough to check, as duff ignition stops the engine working!

The earlier GP550 was rather more troublesome than the GPz550, sharing most of its engine with the Z550 whilst inflicting a lot more power on its components; such troubles compounded by it being the type of bike, back in '81 when there were few rivals in this category, that attracted the crazier owners.

The camchain tensioner can last for less than 20,000 miles, valvegear wear can be quite advanced at this mileage and even the bottom end can start rumbling at as little as 50,000 miles. The engine's also quite hard charging, not so useful at mild riding at lower speeds as the GPz - time tends to ruin the power delivery via rotted exhausts or airfilters full of crap or worn carbs.

By now most chassis will have been upgraded with better forks, shocks and brakes - if they haven't any speeding will soon have them off the road. There are some that have been neatly renovated, a few rats and even the odd stocker running around in a mild state of decay. The tatty ones can be picked up for as little as 500 sovs, but a grand should buy something with a little blood and guts left. But a decent but not immaculate GPz550 can be bought for around £1500, the extra money worth it in terms of value for money.

Most of the GPz550's problems apply to the larger models. The later 1100's had the dubious benefit of fuel injection. Sometimes this ran fine, other times it caused such hassle that some owners reverted to carbs. Just to confuse matters, if one of the injectors goes down the system's still quite capable of running the engine up to 6000rpm - when test riding make sure it runs cleanly to the red line. Also, any misfiring's a sign of the injectors going down. Both the injectors and their electronic modules are expensive to replace, good ones in breakers difficult to find.

With so many expensive bits of technology to go wrong, there's a huge downside to purchasing one of these bikes that has to be taken into account, although they are usually okay for the first 20,000, or so, miles.

The bike has bags of power, one hell of a kick over 6000 revs. 4-1's give it a nasty snarl at higher revs and the injectors can take mild changes in exhaust flow without complaint; if the exhaust's too radical it's pretty obvious in a stuttering power delivery (which might also be the injectors going down, just to confuse things).

The combination of excessive power and mass stresses the chassis. It's nowhere near as dangerous as a Z900, for instance, and can be ridden with muscle and bravery as fast through the bends as modern replica's, but it's wholly lacking in these bikes' civility and sophistication. Also, if any element in the chassis - tyres, bearings, suspension, etc - isn't up to par then in comes the weaves and wobbles. The aforementioned Uni-trak linkage wear is very obvious if you try to ride one of these bikes fast!

In the Kawa's favour, the engine's bottom end is based on the ultra tough Z900/1100, the only possible weak spot in the first 100,000 miles being the clutch which burns out when abused by the more crazed wheelie merchants. Valvegear and camchain wear can hit the engine at as little as 30,000 miles but it's really more down to the degree to which the engine's thrashed and neglected than any chronic faults.

Given the handling limitations and excess of power, many engines have a relatively easy life, last for over 100,000 miles without major attention. As with most Jap engines of this era, regular oil and filter changes are worthwhile. Secondary vibes at high revs are normal, can limit the bike's uses as a long distance tourer, as can the way it eats expensive tyres.

Really immaculate GPz1100's go for around £3000 in private deals. £2000 will buy something in good general order, with loads of life left, and blistering performance even by today's wacky standards. A grand will buy a bike with a nasty chassis, rattly engine and some wild times!

Early twin shock 1100's retained some of the handling excesses of the Z900/1000, though could usefully be upgraded with alloy swinging arm, decent shocks and later front end - even then it wasn't perfection on wheels, but the madness, the way the chassis would viciously bite back, was subdued, didn't appear until ton plus speeds came up. A fully modded twin shocker, with a stock engine (thankfully running on carbs), isn't a bad buy at £2000 to £2500, though it's not worth paying any more because you end up in the same price range as later replicas.

Whilst the 550 was versatile and fun, the 1100 blistering in performance, the GPz750 combined the worst of both worlds. Tanked up, it weighed close to 500lbs and didn't really have geometry that hid that mass (as some monstrous modern bikes manage to do), making it a bit piggish in handling in the same way as the 1100.

The 750's engine isn't the toughest of the bunch, either, with clutch, cylinder head gasket and valve hassles once over 50,000 miles. Some of them did last reasonably, up to 75000 miles without great expense - but the exception rather than the rule. A lot of its extra power is used up in hauling all its mass along, but the half fairing version's quite a useful ton-plus speedster.

The early twin shocker's one of the nastier handlers around unless the usual upgrade's done but it does have evocative styling if you're into early eighties bikes. The latter goes for around £1500; £2000 buying a jolly nice example of the later bike. The £500 rats don't really bear thinking about but you may get lucky.

The most interesting version of the 750's the one they cobbled on a turbocharger, marvellous power buzz when the turbo goes into boost mode. Nasty handling, finicky injectors and turbo components, plus sometimes the turbo destroyed itself due to overheating from a lack of lubrication. On the other hand, the Turbo's reputation is so low that it can be picked up for silly money in reasonable nick - a thousand notes for something with a hundred horses can't be sneezed at.

Overall, the GPz range is one of the more interesting and generally still up to spec even on our frenetic roads. The 550's the best bet, with most of the 750's performance and little of its hassle. The 1100's still a wild old thing that can tear arms out of sockets but can turn out a very expensive proposition. It's a pity Kawasaki don't re-invent them instead of the GT's and Zephyrs.

Dick Lewis

Buying Suzuki GS Fours

There are still loads of old GS Suzuki fours roaring around our roads. The oldest, the GS550's and GS750's, have been around for twenty years (making for cheap insurance, by the way). The most recent, the (1989) GS850GT, surviving on the back of its shaft drive making it perfect for touring (at least to some misguided souls) and therefore in no urgent need of an update to more modern technology. The highlights of the range were the modernistic Katana 550 and 650, plus of course the GS1000, which could be tuned fairly easily to produce an excess of kicks.

Making the used scene even more interesting, the hordes of grey imports from the States. Though low in mileage, therefore likely to have years of engine life left, their suspension, steering geometry and laid back riding positions make them suitable only for moderate riding unless an expensive upgrade's contemplated. Much more of a pose than a serious mount but nevertheless worth a look on the back of their reasonable prices.

Any bike up to twenty years old is going to have some potential horrors. The GS engines are at least well built (when kept in stock tune) and only moderately powered for their capacities. There are some real rats that still have serious motive power, a rather dangerous combination but they do come cheap (£400 to £600) and as long as the frame hasn't rusted through can be upgraded via a raid on the breakers - modern suspension and wheels can actually lose mass and improve handling.

All the GS's are heavy old things, particularly the shaft drive versions which really add insult to injury. But it's possible to replace the heavyweight cycle parts with lighter stuff, get the mass down to more modern standards, knocking say 50 pounds off the overall weight doing wonders for steering and adding a bit of go to the acceleration. If that's done go up one tooth on the gearbox sprocket for taller gearing, which gives a much more relaxed feel and better fuel economy.

It's a good idea to do that anyway because even the 550 eats chains and sprockets at a very rapid rate - less than 5000 miles from the cheaper stuff. Amusingly, the engine sprocket can fall off! Equally nasty are the front discs, which ruin the pads in 5000 to 6000 miles and can turn very finicky indeed during the winter. So much so, that spares are expensive and rare in breakers. On the old stuff, three monthly strip-downs and clean-ups are the order of the day.

That front brake, especially on the 550, when used even gently in slow speed corners can cause the front wheel to rear up to the vertical with astonishing rapidly. Watch out for that on the test ride, and also check for any signs of crash damage. The Katana's, in particular, seem to have gone down the road a lot, usually writing off their front ends - it pays to know what the original wheel, forks, guard and clocks actually look like because about half of them are sporting non-standard stuff.

The duplex tubular steel frame itself's an hefty affair that rarely bends in accidents and can usually be straightened out without weakening its basic structure. It's brilliant on the GS550, useful on the 650 (which is really limited by naff suspension), merely adequate on the 750 and a touch dangerous when coping with either the 850's or 1000's mass and power. Beware, also, of old and high mileage cast alloy wheels which are starting to develop hairline cracks!

Almost any bike that's still running now should at the very least have aftermarket shocks and uprated fork springs. Alloy swinging arms with needle roller bearings and taper rollers in the steering head do make a hell of a difference to steering precision on the 750 and 1000. Whole front end's off later bikes have been used to excellent effect on both, though the GS850GT's usually left stock to idle away its life in mild touring or heavy commuting mode. The latter not a terrible buy if you don't want to ride fast, as many lived a stately life and are in good nick.

Apart, perhaps, from the electrics, which afflict the whole GS range (and the GSX models, for that matter). Most bikes by now sporting a rewound alternator, non-standard (often Superdream) rectifier and, on the older stuff, a complete rewire. It's not a good idea to let the electrical demise go too far as eventually the high voltage surges will take out the electronic ignition module!

Many ended up run with the alternator and rectifier disconnected, the battery charged overnight (good for about 100 to 150 miles if the lights and alternator weren't used). This, at least, won't do any damage to the rest of the electrical system but should be checked when considering purchase. Other signs of a blown electrical system are exploding fuses (check for heavy-duty fuses or even nails in the fuse-box), engine stuttering when the lights are switched on and bodged wiring around the battery or rectifier - sometimes just one of the alternator's coils has burnt out and the others are wired permanently on (instead of coming in when the lights are switched on).

Electrical hassles are a good bargaining point because a rewound alternator, rectifier/regulator and bit of rewiring won't set you back much more than sixty quid if you know what you're doing. If you don't, though, the electrical mess with have you pulling your hair out in sheer, total frustration.

One of the amazing things about the GS range is that engine maintenance is almost optional! The GS550 will run on regardless for tens of thousands of miles even if oil changes are neglected; only grinding to a halt when the sump's actually devoid of any lubricant. The larger bikes are a touch more finicky but give any of them a 1000 mile oil change and you can get away with murder.

This does mean that there are some neglected dogs out there. Checks for a good engine include a smooth gearchange (not to be confused with looseness caused by Katana or non-standard rear-set gear linkage wear), a lack of rattles (the clutch tinkling should disappear when the engine's revved), smoothness on the 550 and 650 (the bigger bikes vibrating a bit in the higher rev range in the bars or pegs), easy starting, smooth carburation and the usual lack of knocks, oil leaks and smoke out of the exhaust. It's also worth dismembering the engine breather to check for fumes.

Heavily tuned and thrashed 750's and 1000's can do in their crankshafts but this is rare - run away from anything that's got its engine bolts wired in, as it's been raced some time in the past. The bigger bikes will also ruin their clutches when subjected to wheelie silliness (and just about everything else when the rider loses it, these bikes don't like those kind of silly games). Valve and even camshaft demise's possible after 40,000 miles on the larger models but not something to get paranoid over.

Undoubtedly, the 550's are the toughest of the bunch, if not of all Jap fours. The Katana looks the neatest but many will be swayed by the more comfortable and classic stock model. The GS650, alone amongst this bunch, has a bit of reputation for top end frailty and isn't helped by its shaft drive and hefty mass...the 650 Katana has a useful bit of extra power over the GT but most have now been thrashed into the ground.

Well sorted GS750's, running modded suspension but stock motors (apart from the exhaust which, as in all GS models, is quick decay) perhaps offer the best compromise between power, handling and reliability. The shaft drive GS850GT's a worthy old battle-horse but a touch dangerous when ridden hard and also expensive on fuel, tyres and pads when taken long distance touring.

The GS1000S and GS1000E have tough motors but are really limited by the way the mass and power interact with the frame, even on much modded suspension. They can be ridden very fast but it needs a lot of skill and bravery to survive such excursions. Quite a few were used for moderate riding and they do offer good value. The GS1000GT was a bit of a horror show due to its excessive mass and shaft drive, avoid unless you only want a mild tourer when one of the smaller bikes would probably be better.

The best GS's turn up on the private market - all kinds of tarted up, dangerous dross in dealers, these days. Finding a good one usually takes a month or two, with lots of false calls. Demand for the decent stuff is high, with prices in the £1500 to £2000 range but a grand will buy something with a decent motor and chassis that can be cheaply upgraded. Sadly, they don't make them like this any more.

Dick Lewis

Buying Big Z Kawasakis

When the Z1 hit the streets back in 1973 it caused a storm. The market had already been formed by Honda's 750 four but the big 900cc Kawasaki was an altogether flasher and faster device. In fact, the competition between these two companies, and later efforts by Yamaha and Suzuki, led to today's almost miraculous four cylinder rep's. It wasn't a direct route to the current light and immensely powerful fours, the whole Z900/1100 range was blighted by excessive mass right throughout its life. Though fast when they were introduced, these days a good 550 or 600 will see them off. They do offer a better spread of torque and tougher engine, as well as authentic retro style.

The Z1 redefined the concept of engine toughness. True, Honda's CB750 had been relatively free of vibration, oil tight and generally strong, but it was burdened with such antiquities as a separate oil tank and hyvoid chain primary drive, the latter not helping the gearchange action. In contrast, the Z1's basic engine layout has been carried forward, with the addition of watercooling and sixteen valves, into the modern era. The only possible weak area's the clutch, which the more inconsiderate owner can burn out when indulging in massive wheelies.

High mileage, as in over 75000 miles, may take out the eight valves, especially if they haven't often been checked. Camchains last 50,000 miles, or more, if given the odd tweak on the tensioner. Valve guides can also wear out. Engines that have been used in proddie racing can take out their crank, but that takes an awful amount of abuse, but worth thinking about if the mileage's suspiciously low and vibration levels seem high.

Sources of poor running can come from dying coils (sometimes parts from later models are fitted and don't work properly), the advance/retard mechanism wearing badly, ancient spark plugs (they are easy to get at but old engines can strip their threads), and rotted out silencers on the standard four into four or mismatched jetting on the aftermarket four into one's - most bikes quickly rotted their standard exhaust system.

The Z1 had a well built gearbox with a slicker change than similar era Honda's, helped along by the gear primary drive. After 60,000 miles - or somewhat less if regular oil changes have been neglected - missed changes can occur due to worn selectors, and this is one of the few easy ways of judging the real mileage of these engines. Also try a few examples to get used to the level of secondary vibration - there's so much mass to absorb it that there isn't that much of a buzz on good examples.

The engine makes around 80 horses when in fine fettle, with the strong power above 5000rpm, though it'll run at much lower revs without any of the transmission jerkiness of the CB750. Any transmission lash coming from a worn drive chain or sprockets, the former often lasting for less than 5000 miles.

Whilst 80 horses was pushing the boundaries of engineering in the early seventies, and the poor old Brit bike industry didn't know what the hell had hit it, Kawasaki showed no inspiration in their chassis design. Weighing in at around 500lbs, the only good point about the chassis was that its hefty tubular steel frame was resistant to mild shunts; it would bend rather than break, but only when the forces involved in a collision were such that the rider was liable to be maimed or killed.

The fat old dame had barely adequate suspension and brakes. Twin discs out front were desperately needed and fitted to later models; also available as an optional upgrade. Not that the stock discs were in any way brilliant, suffering from the usual wet weather lag and lack of feedback. Age did nothing to transform their operation. Given that the front forks were on the wimpy side, a much favoured option's to fit a more modern front end - almost anything's better than the stock stuff. Such mods, as long as they are well done and not trying to disguise crash damage (which can only really be checked by whipping the petrol tank off to clock the top frame rail) shouldn't affect the value of the bike.

Similarly, the back end's on the soft side with a weak swinging arm. An alloy swinging arm, preferably with eccentric chain adjusters, and set of Koni or Hagon shocks, goes a long way to damping out the high speed weaves. There's nothing much that can be done to alleviate the occasional violent speed wobble - that's mostly down to the weight distribution and the steering geometry, though it's a good idea to avoid both panniers and top boxes! The best way out of the speed wobbles is to gently loosen your grip on the bars, otherwise you end up fighting back and increasing the amplitude of the wobble.

Those used to modern bikes won't be impressed by the way the bike rides or handles but a well set up Z ridden moderately - as in posing, dare I say? - isn't too much of a horror story. Any pulling to the left or right, under forward motion or retardation, is a sign of a twisted frame.

Chassis bearings can be short-lived, especially those supporting the standard swinging arm. Anyone who wants to ride fast will have dumped the high, wide standard bars and forward mounted pegs in favour of flat bars or clip-ons and rear-sets - the reduced leverage makes the bike a bit of a pain in the tighter bends and town.

Surprisingly, there are many Z1's around that still have a good finish, the most obvious area of concern mottled alloy corrosion on the engine. The only way to clean the latter up's bead-blasting, which looks neat but makes the bike less than standard. Some dealers have clocked bikes, done a respray in the original colours, trying to pass old dogs off as prime meat.

Yes, just like in British bike circles, there are people who like to keep Z1's completely stock, right down to the original suspension. This is okay insofar that it means it's unlikely that the bike has been thrashed, because if used at speed it'd probably be run off the road! On the other hand, immaculate and original examples can fetch three grand, or even more if you buy from a dealer.

Mildly modded Z1's with over 50,000 miles on the clock go for around two grand, maybe two and a half. This ain't a bargain but such is the pull of the original model that prices are never going to be sensible. Unless you're really stuck on the Z1, it's best to ignore it in favour of the later models.

The Z900 shares the Z1's styling and engineering, and if you're desperate for authentic retro kicks could be resprayed in the original Z1's colours. Most Z900's have modded suspension, loud 4-1's and quite high miles on the clock, usually having been ridden hard.

Rough ones turn up for as little as a grand but may need major work - look for smoke out of the breather, naff gearchange action, top end rattles and intrusive secondary vibes. Something with a decent engine, non-standard suspension, and much modded induction and exhaust, goes for £1500 to £2000. Original bikes with less than 25000 miles on the clock fetch as much as £2500, sometimes three grand, in dealers.

The Z1000 turned up in 1977, the 900's engine bored out to give 1015cc. This didn't produce any more power but increased its spread, making the bigger bike feel a little softer. Weight was up 25lbs but handling, suspension and braking were slightly improved. This was fairly typical of the way motorcycles progressed back in the seventies - start off with a hot engine, add weight and make it less powerful with each succeeding model. Nonsensical, but there you go!

Anything with a little wear in its chassis will desperately need upgraded suspension and new bearings. Which basically means all the models on offer. Z1000's suffered a bit more thrashing than the 900's, having stronger competition from other big Jap fours, but still ran reliably for at least 50,000 miles. Most problems of the high milers coming from the top end - either valve guides, cam lobes or camchain.

Top speed wasn't much more than 120mph, but this can be increased with a loud 4-1 exhaust, K and N filters and carb rejetting - maybe as much as 135mph. Which definitely needs an alloy swinging arm and taut suspension. Fuel was surprisingly good at 50mpg average but conspicuous consumption of consumables didn't inspire.

Pay £1500 to £2500 for prime examples of the Z1000 and as little as £750 for the rat ones, of which there are quite numerous examples. Come 100,000 miles all kinds of interesting things happen - fuel tanks rusting through, wheel hubs cracking up, saddles falling off, electrical burn outs, etc.

By 1979 the Z1000 Mk.2 had replaced the classic stying of earlier models with a more squared off look, that wasn't to many tastes. The engine remained the same, save for electronic ignition and better materials used in the valvegear. This is probably the toughest of all the big Z's, many having managed a hundred thou, or even more. Vibration can get at the ignition module, though, but this is instantly apparent as it either works or doesn't.

Unfortunately, the Mk.2 was yet heavier, another 10lbs, to weigh in at an unfortunate 540lbs dry. This added stress to the suspension and bearings. It shared this weight with the Z1-R, which is perhaps the ugliest of all the Z's but further fuelled the madness by having 90 horses to hand! If the latter tended to be thrashed to an early death, the Mk.2 led a relatively easy life and many examples have survived into the nineties - £1500 to £2000 should buy something reasonable.

Maximum weirdness was reserved for the shaft drive version of the Mk.2, all 560lbs of the hulk. Shaft drive technology of the time wasn't perfected; ridden hard the back end became all crossed up and it was a quick trip to an off-road experience. Okay, the Z1000ST was really just a tourer but its use of fuel and consumables was so heavy as to bankrupt the dedicated traveller. About the only good thing going for them is that nice ones can be picked up for as little as £1500.

In 1980 there was a fuel injected version of the Mk.2, making a very useful 96 horses at 8000 revs, but still being a heavy old thing to chuck around. The disc brakes worked better in the wet and ridden sanely the handling could even be called good. Problems with the injectors, and their black boxes, mean these models aren't too popular - £1000 to £1500 - and some have even been converted back to carbs. Problems with the injectors are somewhat variable, some are okay others have huge holes in the power band and outright failure of the fuelling. Cheap spares are difficult.

In 1981 the engine was bored out yet again, to 1089cc. Power was pushed up to 108hp in GP1100 and Z1100 forms, which whilst thrilling enough did finally have an effect on engine reliability, whilst mass had a marginal decrease to 520lbs. The GP could be upgraded with better suspension into a relatively safe handler but the Z1100 was always a bit on the dubious side. A two grand touch for fine examples of the breed.

1982 was enlivened by the Z1000R, the infamous Eddie Lawson Replica. A 100 horses mixed with 500lbs sounded promising at the time, but the bike turned out to be a bit of a speed wobbler, despite some heavy duty suspension and brakes. An 140mph waltz with possible death managed only to sort the men from the boys. Most were thrashed to death in as little as 50,000 miles; can even take out their crank bearings. If you get lucky and find a nice example, expect to pay £2500 to £3000.

The American market had the pleasure of the shaft drive Z1100 Spectre, all 100 horses and 550lbs of it! Weird handling's its major drawback, but mild use means there is usually loads of engine life left in American imports.

If the weighty and powerful Z1100 became too much for many people, Kawasaki also offered their Z650/750 models. Originally, there had been a Z750 based on a similar bottom end to the Z1, but this was a Japanese market only model. The Z650/750 shared the same basic aircooled, eight valve, four cylinder layout but had no common parts with the bigger four and dumped - inexplicably - the gear primary drive for a hyvoid primary chain.

Although the 650 could run to 100,000 miles, a lack of oil changes could take out its main bearings in half that mileage and it was much more made down to a price than the Z1, reflected in its much cheaper cost. The Z650, despite still weighing 480lbs, was reckoned to have much better balance than the big Z's; it was certainly superior in its handling, minor suspension upgrades making it a good bit of kit.

Most original UK based 650's are getting a bit long in the tooth, but American imports have given the bike a new lease of life in the used market. No need to pay more than £1500; the old ratty ones go down to as little as £500, when both chassis rot and ruined engine internals will be a cause for concern. Good Z650's have slick gearboxes, lack of secondary vibes and a quiet engine without any smoke. Expect them to top 120mph and turn in 45mpg.

The Z750 never had the popularity of the 650, had an engine that could be dead meat in less than 40,000, more from general wear than any chronic problems. The Z750 eventually mutated into the worthy and reliable GT750, whilst the 1100 carried on as the GPz1100 for a few years. Indeed, the basic engineering lives on in both the GT and the Zephyrs, surely a testament to their original design. Many elements of the engine inspired the watercooled GPZ900, which caused a massive storm back in 1984 and eventually evolved into the magnificent ZZR1100.

The big Z's can still be ridden on the pace by someone with more bravery than sense, whilst their general toughness makes them prime purchases for anyone after unusual durability and quality.

Dick Lewis

Ducati 750 Paso

I really wanted to buy a Jap 600 replica but none turned up for the two grand I had available. What I did find was a 750 Paso. A weird looking thing, a massive expanse of mostly red paint. The owner assured me, with a nasty grin, that it would see off all the Japanese stuff, and then took me for a frightening spin on the back. Having seen 130mph on the clock I concluded that all must be well with the engine.

The 80hp, 750cc vee twin can trace its roots back to the Pantah (with its belt driven cams), which in turn was inspired by the bevel drive vee's of the seventies. Ducati have a long history of sporting success and making good handling bikes. I was expecting something special from the five year old Paso, an experience that would send me to new highs...

New depths, more like it. The riding position just didn't suit me. Felt like I was precariously perched atop the bike with an excess of mass on both my wrists and backside. Within twenty miles I was experiencing a new kind of agony that threatened to throw me into a screaming fit. I pulled over, staggered off the bike and shook my body back into a semblance of shape! Something often repeated.

The other intrusion into my happiness was the way the plastic flapped around. By the time I got home the left-hand panel was loose - its fasteners had stripped their threads and had been bodged in. No wonder the owner had refused to take the panels off so I could take a look at the engine.

Being an inquisitive soul I soon had all the plastic stripped off the bike. The engine had minor oil leaks from its cylinder heads and most of the bolts showed the telltale signs of having been taken out - looked like the motor had been taken right down to its bearings! The clock read only 15000 miles, so it was either fake or the engine couldn't take its state of tune.

With surgical skill I replaced the plastic, thinking maybe I ought to trade the Duke in for some Jap wonder machine whilst it was still running - when a crack tore through the air and made me swear my head off. Part of the front fairing had a big split in it. Closer inspection revealed that it'd been plastic welded! So I had a bike that had been rebuilt and crashed!

Foolishly, after repairing the fairing, I decided to give it the benefit of the doubt. The Paso was heavy and bulky, but tracked along with a reasonable degree of precision. Felt better than Jap's with a similar amount of mileage on the clock, but not really exceptional or mind blowing or anything.

The engine grunted out its power but didn't like low revs, like there was something wrong with the transmission - no cush-drive or a bit of wear in the gearbox bearings. The chain, itself, was newish and in good condition. When I tried to open the throttle in top gear from low revs under load - say going up a hill - a loud knocking noise came from the back of the gearbox!

The engine responded much better to hard use of the throttle and gearbox, thumping out the torque and racing up the road with a noisy bellow that soon left me deaf. It made the cagers jerk out of the way, anyway, probably thinking it was a runaway tank! Hard use of the throttle made it thrum a bit at maximum revs, resulting in various bits falling off...

The first was the left-hand footrest peg whilst some of my weight was on it. It came as a nasty surprise to find my foot waving around at 90mph, the whole bike veering crazily as I tried to work out what was going down. The peg ended up ripping itself off the gearchange rod, leaving the bike stranded in fourth! Unbelievable shit!

This wasn't really Ducati's fault. The peg had been replaced with something non-standard after the crash and the threads bodged with Araldite. It was a wonder it had lasted for so long. Replaced peg and sorted threads saw me back on the road at minimal cost, but I was wondering what was going to go down next.

What I hadn't noticed was that the left bar had broken off and been welded back on! I found this out when the bar went loose in my hand and then fell off! Fortunately, it happened in town when I was only doing 25mph. I pulled over, feeling thoroughly bemused at having the handlebar loose in my hand! Again, a used replacement cheaply sorted the problem.

The third incident was the back mudguard rattling loose, bouncing on the tyre and ending up well mangled. This happened at about 40mph after I tried to make the bike wheelie, something it didn't like - the clutch usually started to rattle rather loudly. As the numberplate was also ruined I had a rather interesting ride home - no plate, no laws; right?

These problems happened over a three month, 2000 mile, period. When it wasn't falling apart I also had a few hassles with the handling. Mostly when powering out of bends. The suspension seemed mismatched, the rear going coil-bound whilst the front fluttered fitfully. Despite these machinations the bike showed no inclination towards throwing itself off the road and I was quite impressed when I had to change direction suddenly after the usual dopey cager did something stupid. Not all bad news, by any means. It could probably be sorted with a decent shock and some better fork springs.

The handling suddenly went dire and the back tyre skidded violently. I pulled over before I fell off, was amused to find the back rubber soaked in oil. I croaked home at moped speeds, having to bung my boots down a couple of times to stop us skidding off the road.

With the plastic off, the rear cylinder head gasket was revealed to be so blown that oil was practically spurting out; the level had disappeared below the minimum mark! Massive force on the cylinder head bolts sorted it, another symptom of the high rev vibration, I think!

After that experience the engine lost some of its zip and made a melody of noises inside the plastic. At certain revs the plastic would reverberate and rattle to an incredible degree, drowning out even the rorty exhaust. Fortunately, at tickover it was relatively quiet.

Four months and 3000 miles had left the engine close to going into self-destruct mode. Nothing for it but to hit the local Yamaha dealer and trade in for a heavily discounted YZF750. Got £2600 off the price! The new Yamaha makes the Duke look like something out of the ark, even has a bit of blood and guts as well as excessive power and fine handling.

The dealer got killed on the Duke. The new owner came back after three weeks with a broken gearbox. After that was fixed the electronics went down and finally the engine started knocking. The shop had sold the bike for three grand but had to spend a lot more than £400 sorting it out. If it had gone down on me I would probably have ended up scrapping it.

Mine was obviously a hard used and much bodged example of the breed. Find one well looked after, it could be a whole different story - but it's not easy to tell the good from the bad. 

L.K.S.

Ducati M600 Monster

Cynical minds might merely wonder if the M600 is just a reworked Pantah. Even nastier minds might wonder why the M only has 55hp against the older bike's 60hp! The Monster is mostly sold in European countries where horsepower limits (for cheap insurance) is the game and the bike has to be tuned up for the UK market. To confuse things further the mill is actually a sleeved down 750cc unit.

The major difference to the M900, apart from the obvious lack of grunt, is a much superior wet clutch that removes most of the bigger bike's low speed grumbling - for posing in town the M600's easily the better choice. The gearchange is superior, too, with just five ratios that are more than a sufficient match to the engine's wide spread of torque. The throttle seems to have a direct connection to the back wheel.

Not only does the Ducati weigh less than 400lbs, it also carries a lot of that mass low. What a nice combination of qualities it had - loads of torque, more than adequate power (though without the excesses of the 900), a narrow chassis and excellent weight distribution that gave an easy going and secure feel at the same time. In short, loads of fun!

If anything, it was better than the 900 which could both be a little cantankerous at low revs and a little too wild at the top of the range, just a little bit too easy to completely overdo it. The 600 was a real easy bike to leap on to for the first time, roar up the street with a silly grin after just a few minutes of getting used to the controls. Luckily, this ain't the end of the fun, as the M600 has plenty of hidden character to unfold as time goes by.

My immediate problem on the 700 mile machine was dealing with the singular front disc. The bigger bike has twin discs and so much power it needs a bit of care and attention to avoid locking up the front wheel. The problem with the M600 was that the disc was completely unpredictable - sometimes howling the tyre other times the lever would come back to the bars.

The handbook reckoned there was a worldwide guarantee, so off I went to the local Ducati dealer (about 75 miles away). The same old story, you didn't buy the bike from us therefore we'll have to charge you. I'd bought the bike privately in London - I think the owner was into some HP scam as he seemed happy with £3750! I kept calm with the dealer, who eventually, if reluctantly, revealed that a fluid change should sort it out.

Disc brakes are brilliant devices but hydraulic fluid is nasty stuff. It seemed to take an age to fill up the system, then the fluid spat out of the cylinder over the switch cluster. I'd sort of flipped the can backwards which spilt another load over the tank and my hand. I rushed into the house for the nearest tap.

After cleaning off all the fluid, I bled the system and then took her for a spin. It always put me in a good mood when the vee-twin motor spat into life and I curled myself around that big tank; just sitting on the bike with the rumbling exhausts was a sensual experience.

Out on the road, the front disc was much improved, living up to its four piston design, though god knows why the fluid had gone off on such a new bike. The meaty upside-down forks, that still have the lugs for a second caliper, were well able to absorb any twisting forces from the single disc. They lack any kind of adjustment but came nicely taut and well controlled. The only thing to upset the forks was accelerating hard out of bumpy bends, when the bars would shake a little in my hands. The altercations disappeared quickly, when the bumps finished or the bike went back to the vertical, so it was probably poor geometry rather than any weakness in the chassis.

The frame's a quite minimal but well braced tubular affair that uses the engine block as a stressed member to the extent that the swinging arm is mounted on the back of the gearbox. This removes an excess of bracketry and is immensely strong. The rear shock could've done with a bit more damping, even turned up high it felt close to letting loose when the bike was really thrashed.

About three days after the brake fluid was replaced, large areas of tank paint started falling off. I couldn't really blame Ducati for my cack-handedness, the general finish was good, way ahead of their old attempts. I ended up having the tank completely resprayed.

That wasn't the end of the brake fluid debacle because it also ate away the switch contacts in the right-hand cluster. I bought a used cluster off a Japanese bike not because it was in any way superior but because the Ducati stuff was not readily available. Most of the M600's electrics including the battery are hidden under the petrol tank, with the airfilter sitting in front, hopefully protecting them from the elements. The only electrical hassle I had was making sure the battery's acid level remained constant as it would burn off quite a bit of water on a long hard thrash. I was caught out once, with insufficient power to turn the motor over, had to get some peds to give us a push!

The induction system appeared a bit restrictive, feeding into two 38mm Mikuni carbs. Engine response was good despite their unlikely positions but after 115mph the engine began to gasp for breath and fuel was poor, 40 to 55mpg depending on the level of abuse. The bike might top out at 120mph but it was a damned uncomfortable business with massive shoulder and neck strain.

90mph was the most I could cruise at for any length of time, the seat limiting cruising to about an hour, before some severe bum and thigh pains set in. The huge tank only holds four gallons because of all the junk underneath it, giving a range of 150 to 200 miles, which was about twice that of the comfort level. The reach to the bars was more reasonable than the butch looks would suggest and it was quite comfortable for posing around town. The Duke was quite a useful commuter, its sure-footed feel making it a breeze in bad weather.

Keeping the M immaculate was jolly hard work, a combination of minimal mudguards and an excess of nooks and crannies where the grit inevitably found its way. A can of Gunk and jet-wash were the best combination. The alloy was good quality with no tarnishing and six months worth of riding hadn't turned up any weaknesses except for where the brake fluid had fallen.

With 3500 miles on the clock all I've done to the engine is change the oil. The cams are driven by well proven belts and the valvegear is Ducati's usual and unique Desmo set-up that stays in adjustment for a long time but is a hell of a job to reshim. There's a little bit of churning at low revs, suggesting that the carbs are about due for a balancing session. I'm not convinced that it's a particularly simple engine (modern valve springs surely make the Desmo set-up obsolete) but it is a tough one. Hopefully, the new clutch will eradicate the problems with the dry job fitted to bigger Dukes.

The baby monster is bargain priced even when new, let alone secondhand. It has none of nastiness or irritants of the older Ducatis, which are best described as character building rather than character filled! I'm pleased as punch with my M600 and am only put in my place on very fast roads by the more extreme race replicas, whose riders invariably lose their licence...

Mark Chambers

Ducati M900 Monster

For retro we should read real motorcycles. And the definition of a real motorcycle is one that impresses more with its torque than power. In some instances this is just an excuse for getting away with antique engineering (who mentioned Harley?). The M900 makes a mere 75 horses at just over 7000 revs but has massive low and midrange punch, the engine basically identical to the well proven (dry clutch aside) 900SS. The only area in which it's really retro is that it has a stripped naked look.

The layout of the Ducati's ninety degree engine makes any styling effort difficult, the back cylinder all but disappearing amid the tubular frame and ancillaries. The castings on the motor are not very attractive, the lines of the frame and engine being in conflict......all the more shocking, then, that the Monster is such a stunning looker. The huge petrol tank and pared down rear end contrast with the silver frame whilst the meaty upside-down forks dominate the front end.

If the styling looks a bit extreme, the riding position is quite conventional and reasonably natural. Town riding was a breeze. There was an excess of torque that made crazed used of the gearbox redundant. Weighing about 430lbs the Ducati was just light enough to chuck around in town, whilst the suspension was up to coping with the mad machinations of council neglect upon the rutted road surface.

After a couple of days of becoming used to the machine, I found I could ride through town in a thoroughly delinquent manner. Doing wheelies in the first couple of gears was just a twist of the throttle away and so good was the balance of the M900 that even on the back wheel it felt reassuring. When the cagers did something really stupid the twin front discs and single rear would pin the bike down like nothing else I'd experienced. The four piston Brembos are usually found on much bigger bikes, so with the minimal mass they slammed the bike to a halt.

The frame and forks had to be good to absorb that kind of violence. The massive upside-down forks had a rigidity, a resistance to twisting, that most motorcyclists can only dream about. The wrap-around tubular frame, with its excess of cross-bracing and use of the crankcases as a stressed member, held everything in line, giving the impression that it could take twice the power.

Any company can specify top notch suspension and, these days, make extremely stiff frames, but what counts is having the experience to put it all together in a way that optimizes steering geometry, weight distribution and suspension settings. Ducati have wads of experience both on the road and track, and in almost every way the narrow vee-twin engine is much more suitable for perfecting the chassis layout.

Like the 900SS, the Monster comes across, almost immediately, as a special kind of bike that rides on the road in a much more secure way than the Japanese hordes with their huge across the frame four cylinder engines; emphasizes the uncanny difference of its nature with the mind warping way it lays down its torque, big hammer blows to the heart and acceleration that beats to death larger, more powerful Japanese iron.

Most Italian bikes take a time to become acquainted with, some take months before the taste for their character is acquired, but the M900, along with the 900SS, is entirely different in that respect. Within minutes of taking the controls it's Big Grin time. If Ducati made demonstrators widely available it'd sell by the boat load. Ducatis used to be full of all kinds of hidden nasties but they have managed to combine all the subtle qualities of motorcycling with an instant rapport and friendliness that gives the best of all worlds.

In town the bike will do anything you want, go into any amount of cut and thrust, ninety degree turns and running over pavements, dogs and pedestrians. And, it'll do it a damn sight better than any other machine that weighs over 400lbs. True, across London antics, hustling through snarled up traffic for a couple of hours, would turn my wrists a bit numb and my backside would begin to complain. The suspension was a touch stiff, but nowhere near as bad as the old bevel drive Ducatis, for constant, repetitive bouncing over rough, apparently abandoned roads.

The fat, low profile Michelins lost some of their reassuring feel when used on such roads that had taken a dose of rain. The slight slides never went right out of control but required a lot restraint both on the brake levers and the throttle. When a cage cut me up in the wet, I found the twin discs rather too powerful for the front tyre, and it also lost a little feedback just when I wanted more. This complaint was more a function of their exemplary behaviour in the dry, by way of comparison, than any defect when compared to similarly equipped Japanese bikes, which had an even harder time but were better tyred.

It was dead easy to slide the back tyre on wet roads, all it took was harsh use of the throttle or back brake. The thing was that the Duke never went out of control; was so responsive that I began to abuse the back end, controlled by a wholly adequate and multi-adjustable single shock, just for the fun of it! Wild slides woke up dozy peds and were often employed to make sprightly right-angle turns.

Having done 3000 miles on a bike that already had 1800 on the clock (at eight grand new I can't think how anyone could afford one), the back tyre is moments off going illegal and the front is about 500 miles away from following suit. Running on worn out tyres is always a good test of a motorcycle's chassis. Most Japanese bikes, even if they are near sublime when brand new, in that state become close to rolling death-traps.

The Ducati remained steady in straight lines, even flat out the weaves were so slight that they were not really worth noting. Where the tyres made a difference was in how far I could lean over. On good rubber I could get my knees down, but on the worn stuff the tyres started shuffling sideways and I had to edge the chassis upwards, causing the M900 to run wide in corners.

Even under such extremis I always felt completely in control, there was scads of feedback from the tyres, always sufficient information to know when things were getting close to going out of control. I've ridden Japanese bikes that, in the blink of an eye, have switched from apparent stability into wild wobbles. Some combination of surface irregularity, road speed and chassis wear suddenly setting them off. There was none of that frightening nonsense on the Ducati Monster.

On good tyres I couldn't really fault the bike. It'd cruise along motorways at the ton without any squirming (it'd probably do more but I wasn't able to hold on for more than a few seconds), whilst those really long, fast curves held no terrors on either a rising or falling throttle, though the brakes were a bit too snappy to use in anything other than an emergency - the front discs are probably the one thing on the bike that take a little time to really get a feel for; even now I'm often still in terror of their sheer, excessive stopping power! The pads have just started to rattle a little, so by the time 5000 miles are up I'll be buying a new set.

I'm actually quite surprised that the calipers haven't started to seize up yet. This pessimism caused by the wholly, stupidly, inadequate front mudguard, which because of the design of the upside-down forks can't easily be replaced by a more substantial item that'd be more suitable for the awful British weather rather than the Italian Riviera. Not only does the guard allow gallons of water on to the front of the engine, it seems especially designed to splatter both the calipers and the forks.

The latter were non-adjustable but that was okay as they were perfect for me. Their very stiffness must've made the act of damping the springs much easier than on conventional forks. They would absorb minor ripples and some quite large bumps, only becoming a bit lost over London sized pot-holes, which were so deep they threatened to snag the front cylinder. It would be a great pity if dirt thrown off the wheel ruined the seals, upside-down forks being even more susceptible to this trait than conventional front forks. There seemed to be no way that a pair of gaiters could be securely fitted to the legs.

The back end was much better protected from the weather, a swinging arm mounted guard keeping the worst of the muck off the single shock. Overall finish was up to Japanese standards, but the Monster was a real pain to clean, there being so many crannies into which the road grime was thrown by the front wheel. A high pressure hose seemed ideal, but a couple of minor brackets and fasteners were already speckled with the dreaded rust, so a couple of English winters might do a lot of harm.

I know that won't be a problem for the Kings Road poseurs as they'll get the Porsche out for the winter but I insist that my motorcycle is usable all year around (I can only afford to run one vehicle). Using the Duke as a high speed tourer was slightly limited by a seat that could've been better shaped and padded, but it was good enough for two hours before various muscles decided to become very cramped. At least with the M900, I had the choice of riding like a lunatic or taking it nice and laid back. The gargantuan (and, to my eyes, ugly) silencers still allowed a reasonably resonant exhaust note once on the open road and more than 80mph was on the clock, which was reassuring in the way that most vee twins are. Put it this way, I can't recall a ride that I didn't enjoy immensely, that didn't leave me wanting to leap back on the bike for more or have me looking around for a way to make the route home just that bit longer.

Country roads that twist back upon themselves are an ideal exercise ground for the M900. With its relatively low centre of gravity, it feels even lighter than its claimed 410lbs dry and can be flicked from side to side as easily as many Japanese 500 twins. Exhilarating is the best description that comes to mind, when racing with friends mounted on Japanese fours - the poor buggers have to play with their gearboxes like crazed madmen and I can almost see their arm muscles bulge under their leathers. The Ducati makes hard road-work seem easy and I had to keep trying harder to find the limits of both the chassis and the engine.

The motor's been around long enough to sort out any problems, a relatively simple two valver with belt drive to single cams. The clutch is the only really weak spot, although the belts have limited life and if oil changes are neglected the main bearings may start rumbling.

The 900SS is a bit more practical for the really fast stuff, but the M900 wins on macho looks and ease of general riding. Both are practical, almost sensible, motorcycles. I really think the world would be a better place if every home had one.

Frank Barring

Ducati 500 Pantah

The ex-racer stood in the dim light of the street. The owner had resorted to bump-starting. To my doubtful eyes an amazing feat of physical coordination. The open pipes allowed an explosive blast to echo off the stone buildings. I quickly put my full-face lid on before I went deaf. I'd wondered why I'd had to shout at the vendor to make myself understood.

Blipping the throttle was the only way to stop the vee-twin motor dying. The clutch was heavy due to racing springs. The throttle was quick action. Just a touch had the revs soaring. The gearshift was vintage slow and cumbersome. The gearing was so tall that, in first, slip was needed until 20mph. Searing acceleration like a scud missile. By the time I made max revs in second the road came to an end.

The motor went well enough to convince me it was a good 'un. What was left of the chassis was quite solid. The guy was keeping the racing fairing for his next project. The front light stuck out a yard on some precarious brackets. As stock Pantahs are quite expensive beasts I was happy to pay £600.

There weren't any indicators. Riding at slow speeds was difficult. The throttle sprung back with a final snap and the clutch needed slipping. Hand signals were thus difficult. The Pantah had supreme stability which allowed unlikely antics. I made it the 10 miles home in one piece.

On further examination, the electrics proved to be much modified. The ignition was self-generating and electronic. The main alternator was junked in favour of a total loss battery system. This allowed about 20 miles of night riding before the lights went out. Or about four dabs on the electric boot. An alternator and set of indicators were top priority.

I was still able to ride around in the daylight hours. The bike was a bundle of laughs to trundle through town. The tremendous noise and outrageous acceleration had cagers snapping their necks. It was one of the safest bikes I'd ever ridden. There was no doubting my presence. The braking was something else. The discs had ultra-hard pads that produced vision distorting braking. Their lack of feel made them dangerous on slimy surfaces.

After a week a crashed 500 Pantah turned up in the breakers. As well as the electrics, I bought a half fairing, bars, pegs, exhaust system and seat unit. All for a bargain £100! With those fitted the bike was more or less back to stock. With the open pipes I'd been stopped three times by the plod. The racing riding position and minimal seat had produced searing back pains. To round off the month I sold the racing bits for £150.

The engine retained its racing components and traits. With the pleasant stock riding position, I was quite happy to juggle the throttle and clutch at slow speeds. In return I had a fearsome dose of acceleration between 6500 and 10,000 revs. The bike moved as well as a mate's CBR600 in third or fourth. Only losing out once past the ton, although top speed was 135mph. I only found this out from riding in the company of the CBR. The Pantah's speedo went berserk each time it touched 120mph. I still haven't decided if this was in celebration or protest.

The stock motor only made 60 horses. Racing engines would improve on that, maybe making 80hp. The stock exhaust and intake is very restrictive. Easy to get another 10 horses that way. The rest is down to harder cams, port work and higher compression pistons. The con-rods are the major limit on engine work, too much power will make them snap.

I'd guess my bike was making around 70 horses. With a weight of 420lbs that gave great acceleration and reasonable engine longevity. The one weak spot in the motor was the belt drive to the cams. These were much less complex than the old bevel drives. I put in a new set after the first 1000 miles and replaced them at 7500 miles. In a stock motor they might last for as much as 20,000 miles. The lumpier cams and higher revs gave them a much harder time.

Vee-twins are traditionally tuned for an excess of torque. Harley take that concept to extremes. Massive capacity, low revs and a deal of fun. The Italians do things differently. They love to make intricate motors that will safely rev high. Which is where the desmo heads came in. Back in the seventies valve material wasn't good enough to stop float at high revs. At least not with the large valves Ducati thought necessary. The desmo system opens and closes valves using a separate set of cam lobes. A brilliant bit of work. Maintenance is its downfall. It needs a skilled hand and a couple of hours to shim the system so that it all works together well. Valve servicing was needed every 4000 miles. I let a Ducati mechanic do the work at an expensive 75 quid a time.

As high revving as the motor was, it still ran well between 2000 and 6500. Below 2000rpm it'd cut out, because the self-generating ignition circuit didn't put out sufficient power. Once the motor was hot, it'd start first press of the button if it stalled. Cold starting was more of a problem. The choke system was missing and the open bellmouths gasped petulantly. I did try a few bump-starts but the bike liked to stall dead and fall over. I kept a spare battery and it'd eventually spit into life after a quarter of an hour on ice cold mornings.

There were a few oil leaks, probably down to the high pressure pump needed to service the plain big-end bearings. A hard run around town resulted in a big puddle under the motor. 200 miles in a day was a quick way to lose two-thirds of the lubricant. Slinging a couple of cans on the pillion perch was a good idea.

Passengers were reluctant to go very far. Complaining of earache (the silencers had mostly rusted right through), bum-ache and toothache. The latter from a thrilling dose of vibration as the motor was revved into red. With a ninety degree vee there shouldn't have been much. Past 10,000rpm the bars and pegs shuddered. The petrol tank felt like it wanted to split in half. At milder revs I could find little to complain about.

The hard edged acceleration complemented the handling well. As with most Dukes, the faster it went the better it felt. Had the gearing been less tall it would also have been a dead easy machine to trawl around town. Clutches are always a dodgy item on Ducatis. The amount of abuse mine was put through meant I was putting in new plates every 5000 miles. I even had one drum start to crack up. The crunching noises every time I touched the lever meant I got to it before there was an explosion of metal.

The gearbox was also a bit doubtful, with tales of boxes exploding. The fluidness of the change didn't inspire much confidence. It crunched and groaned but went into gear eventually. It was slow enough to hinder acceleration. Better to put the box in third or fourth, use the rev range to surge forward. Okay on the open road but impossible in town. Below 3000 revs the chain felt like it was about to snap.

It was after about six months fun and games that the gearbox seized up solid. It was possible to take off in second. If you thought that a burning clutch had narcotic possibilities. I spent a week revving the balls off the engine until I tired of the noise. It felt like a holocaust was about to happen. My friendly Ducati mechanic took £300 of my hard earnt bread. As well as selectors, a couple of teeth were worn down and the bearings were at the end of their service life. The rebuilt gearbox was still stiff but made less noise.

The state of the drive chain and sprockets had an effect on the smoothness of the transmission. Chains rarely lasted more than 5000 miles. A combination of drive-line lash, power pulses and a hopping back wheel (when I got carried away on the front discs). Sprocket life varied greatly. Some lasted no longer than the chain, others lasted twice as long. A function of their material and the accuracy of their manufacture. I did have one chain break. The chainguard (so minimal it was just a sop to the law) shattered. The crankcases survived with just a little whiplashing (ouch).

I was 30 miles from home at the time. I pushed it two miles to a motorcycle shop where I was able to buy a length of chain. The dealer wouldn't lend me any tools to get the chain tension set up. I rode slowly home with the chain threatening to leap off the sprockets. It would've been worse if it was too tight. That might've ruined the gearbox drive bearing! It's probably worth investing in an O-ring chain and sprocket set. I could never justify throwing that much dosh away.

Another limitation on a frugal lifestyle was fuel economy. Town riding gave 40mpg. Mild cruising managed 45mpg but giving the bike its head returned 30 to 35mpg. That was no worse than modern middleweight fours given the same kind of stick. A stock Pantah will give an easy 50mpg, maybe even 60mpg under mild conditions. I checked the plugs to find the mixture was nigh on perfect. To be honest, I'd much prefer to have the performance rather than the economy.

The cost and the age of the machine inhibited any plans to do an around the world tour. A week's camping holiday of about 1200 miles was the most I did. 300 miles in a day was tolerable. Loads of junk could be strapped on the bike without upsetting its poise. It didn't necessarily stay there. I had my tent and sleeping bag fall off the back. They survived being run over by a car. I'd placed the Ducati so hastily on its stand that by the time I'd run back it'd fallen over.

They are quite tough beasts. Mine survived several mild clashes with the tarmac. The indicators tend to snap off and I managed to scrape a couple of millimetres off the engine casing. It doesn't fall over rapidly, there usually seems time to get a boot down or wrench the bars. Even riding on bald tyres was possible if a bit of care was taken. I rather enjoyed the controllable slides that resulted on wet roads!

There was no way that the front brake could be used in those circumstances. There wasn't any delay, the front wheel locked straight away. Even after a year's worth of practice, I never found any feel in the front discs. It took that time (and 25000 miles) to wear out the pads. This turned out to be because they were so hard they'd worn down the discs! I was alerted to this by some clanging noises.

A collection of variously worn parts from different breakers followed. The same bits are also used on other bikes, so it's possible to mix and match. The resulting brake had about half the power of the old one. The first time I tried for a quick halt I almost shat myself. The bloody thing took another 60 yards to pull up from 80mph. The Pantah doesn't like to steer when the forks are down on the stops. I applied bar breaking force and missed the cage by an inch.

There was more feedback. Enough to make it almost safe to brake in the wet on decent tyres. I preferred Pirellis, they gripped well and lasted for 8000 miles at the back and 12000 out front. Some jerk of a tyre fitter took a huge chunk out of the alloy rim. They refused to pay for a repair. As it was a front wheel they were as rare as hen's teeth. Alloy welding was considered and rejected after I had visions of the wheel cracking up at 100mph. In the end I bought a new wheel! The most expensive tyre I ever paid for. I might just accept that the fracture was caused by ageing alloy.....

The plastic bits were even more fragile. The fairing cracked up, loosened it vibrated with a renewed frenzy. The hairline cracks rapidly became massive seams, huge chunks of the fairing falling off into the slipstream. Replica GRP replacements were even thinner and lasted mere thousands of miles. The seat unit was similarly dodgy, threatening to crack up and throw the rider off the back.

Problems have to be expected on any bike over ten years old. The Ducati was probably no worse than any similarly aged Japanese motorcycle. Certainly, there are few low mileage Pantahs on offer. Because they tended towards reliability even when thrashed, they were used hard. Once experienced, it's not easy to back off the throttle. That mind tripping surge of power and torque combined with the instinctive handing added up to a lot of fun and games on the road. Prices are over the top, these days, but that goes for most Italian stuff and even decent Japs.

N.K.

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I named the Pantah Cruncher. Almost immediately. It was a 1981 model with the original gearbox. With 22000 miles of wear it was as precise as a sixties Honda twin and noisy as seventies BMW. The Ducati was a punchy little number with a blend of torque and power that only the Europeans know how to manufacture. A ninety degree vee-twin with Desmo heads (belt driven cams) and a feeling of history about of it, of metal being wrought in one man's dream. The apprentice must've designed the gearbox.

As any Boxer owner knows, a bit of time and effort can master even the most nasty of gearboxes. Took me about 2000 miles to come to terms with it. As the crankcases are the same, the gearbox from the later 600 can be retro-fitted, but that costs serious money and a near impossible gearchange's a useful thief deterrent.

I was soon in trouble with the Ducati, about three months down the line the electric starter burnt out. Neither love nor money could procure a good used one so I had to pay out for it to be rebuilt - sixty quid for a two day turnaround. The starter gears made the mill sound like it was on its last legs but were blissfully silenced once the motor blared into its staccato beat. Lovely noise, shame about all the chrome falling off the silencers which by then had rotted into straight-thru status (they weren't exactly quiet when brand new). Eventually, the downpipes were modded into a two into one system (keeping their lengths constant) and a stainless steel can fitted. The temperament of the motor was such that, even with a few holes knocked through the airfilter, the power still flowed without any flat spots.

The only thing to upset the power delivery was the time, with 32 thou on the clock, that one of the carbs became full of gunge. They do go out of balance very quickly but are easily set-up. The gunge turned out to be the petrol pipe dissolving! Unbelievable that they'd spoil the whole bike by using some cheap tubing. I replaced it with some British hose and cleaned out the carb. All was well again.

For a while. There was something about the bike that made me a little edgy. Reminded me of the time that I'd unknowingly bought a crashed and repaired CB750. Not that the Pantah didn't handle. After too many Japanese middleweights it was very agile and precise; great fun! Yet, I felt that the bike was going to fail in some big, unspecified way. I'd had that feeling when I bought it, had offered a low price, which much to my consternation was accepted.

The Pantah looked fine, then six years old - exceptionally good for a marque that had a reputation for rusting away the first time they saw an English winter. Ran well, handled exceptionally and looked butch enough to have young kids give me the thumbs up. Yet, I felt there was something wrong.

It was only after six months that I realised what was bugging me. The engine was too quiet. No rattles from the top ends. I worked this out after hearing a few other Pantahs at a Ducati rally. On the way home I glanced behind on the overrun to have my worst fears confirmed. A puff of smoke out of the exhaust. The valves were too tight! You may well ask why I never checked them before - I'm lazy and if something's running I tend to leave well alone.

I approached the Desmo valvegear with trepidation, having heard all kinds of stories about their complex sophistication. However, if you methodically follow the workshop manual and take a weekend over the job it's quite simple. They were so tight I couldn't get a valve-gauge in! No permanent damage resulted from this wanton neglect.

Whilst on the subject of valves, the belt drives don't last that well. About 10,000 miles. The originals went for more than 15000 miles and quite a few owners were caught out when the replacements weren't up to the same spec. Bevel drive fanatics view the new engine with righteous disdain, as just an example of corporate cost cutting. Maybe they're right but the Pantahs do work well.

After 35000 miles the front end turned a bit vague. I hadn't touched the forks, thought maybe some new oil was in order. The bleed screws broke off when I tried to remove them. A weekend with a drill finally extracted them. The oil dribbled out, looked like it'd been in there since the bike left the factory. I put in a thicker grade to help out the damping, which was losing it every time the bike hit a series of bumps. The improved damping showed up the springs, not really being up to the stiff Italian standards that I expected.

My experiences with Wop alloy indicated that I didn't really want to take the forks apart. The obvious solution was to remove the huge half fairing, as the weight of this, plus brackets, was giving the front end a hard time. The fairing wasn't half bad in heavy rain but helped direct water on to the front pot, which caused some stuttering. I made up a brackets for the clocks and fitted an old CB175 light I had hanging around (with an upgraded bulb).

Top speed was down from 120 to 115mph, fuel was the same at 55mpg, weather protection was poor, the engine ran better in the wet, and the handling improved. The forks now felt reassuringly firm, much less willing to bounce on the stops when the twin discs were abused. Oh yes, the bike looked about a hundred times better - that lower line of the fairing's all wrong for the vee-twin engine. A nice weekend's work, that.

With just under 39000 miles done the electrics went haywire. Always a problem with old Italians - they just can't bring themselves to pay up for decent wiring. Wires shorting out had ruined the rectifier, in turn draining the battery whenever the bike wasn't running. Blowing bulbs and malfunctioning indicators (they had a mind of their own and almost caused several accidents) added to the uncertainty and chaos. I was surprised they'd lasted so long! A complete replacement of the electrics was called for, although I didn't have to touch the alternator.

The bike seemed pleased with the two week's worth of effort, ran better than ever. Soon, though, the chassis bearings started to go. No sooner had I replaced the rear wheel bearings than the front's went. A big time wobble announced their 70mph demise. The cagers couldn't believe the antics as the machine was wrenched from one side of the motorway to the other. Neither could I, nor that I never came off - the excellence of the frame and geometry shone through.

I was a bit annoyed at that stage but for the next 4000 miles all was well with the world. Races with a friend's CBX550 proved the superiority of Italian design and a two week holiday showed that the old bus could still make the grade as a tourer. There was one proviso, the stock seat was rock hard and best replaced or upholstered to a higher spec. If you don't do that you end up with piles after a mere 100 miles.

As the mileage crept up to 50 thou the engine became a bit rattly and the performance lost some of its edge. Still well capable of producing lots of kicks, I again began to worry that something serious was going to go amiss. It wasn't until 53000 miles that a strong knocking noise finally identified the malaise as the rear cylinder's small end on the way out. When a Ducati engine reaches that stage's there usually some major internal surgery needed.

From my first intimation that something was going wrong until the bike became too rancorous to ride took nearly three months; sufficient time to find a 600 engine out of a crashed (as in crushed at both ends) bike. An ex-racer with some meaty engine mods that have given the old bag a new lease of life. I don't think this motor's going to last long as it's already smoking. Not to worry I've almost completed the rebuild of the 500 (I had to find a good crankshaft and gearbox components).

Jake Garland