One advantage of buying a custom Jap is that most owners don't ride them very hard. Thus was it that I acquired a 1987 Suzuki VS750 Intruder with less than five grand on the clock for just two thousand notes. The other advantage of a custom is the very low seat height. The relief of being able to put both feet firmly on the floor was wonderful. I am 5' high, so on most bikes my situation is very precarious.
The riding position, with high bars pulled back to around ear level and footrests mounted far forward, took a lot of getting used to. It limited top speed to a measly 70mph, which was just as well as trying to go any faster resulted in eyeball shaking vibes from the meaty vee twin engine sat between my knees. Those vibes also hit the pillion - sit a young girl on that narrow seat for a few hours and she'll turn into a right nympho.
My mates on race replicas still make jibes about the Intruder but I think it looks really neat for a Jap custom. Of course, it's a waste of time trying to keep up with them through the bends. It's not that the bike is particularly heavy (450lbs with a full tank) because that weight is carried low but that the twin rear shocks are typical Jap crap and that there's next to no ground clearance.
The bike also tries to run wide if you brake or back off the throttle. The shaft drive, along with the slick gearbox, do not give a moment's worry in the handling stakes, so it's not all bad. The front forks twist if you use all the braking power from the single disc, not surprising as they are long, thin things that look like a straight copy off the old and awful Fantic chopper (remember them?).
The front disc is more than adequate for the speeds this bike is capable of. It is matched by a neat rear drum that has required no maintenance in 20,000 miles, not even a new set of shoes. The front has needed three sets of pads and one strip down when it started to seize up. The wheels are old fashioned spoke jobs with alloy rims but I had some problems with the back. After a heavily loaded trip some spokes began to break on the way home. The already less than perfect handling rapidly degenerated and I could do no more than 50mph without inducing a real wobble.
There is, luckily, a good dealers nearby who have all the expertise necessary to rebuild wheels and mine needed a complete rebuild. Thereafter, every 1000 or so miles I had to tighten up the spokes. With 24000 miles up, the front wheel bearings went, which again made the handling go wild. These experiences have converted me to the joys of modern wheels.
The longest trek was 1500 miles down to Southern France and back in the company of some dudes on Gold Wings, of all things. These chaps were motorway hoodlums who were happy to sit all day behind huge fairings with the ton up. The poor old Intruder didn't like this at all. And neither did I. Battered about by the wind, my arms and legs rapidly developed pains in places I didn't know it was possible to hurt and even my spine felt like it was dislocated by the time we reached our destination.
The vibes made the bike feel like some demented British twin on methanol. Much to my surprise, nothing broke or fell off and I eventually became used to the vibro-massage. The very long wheelbase meant that it stayed on its line even with the top speed of around 110mph up, even though the suspension let it bounce about nastily. Fast, long curves were also okay but trying to flick it through sharper bends was a waste of time - it just wouldn't do it.
That was okay, as off the motorways the Wings were great lumbering beasts that could only poodle down the back roads at 30 to 50mph. Speeds at which the Intruder felt well at home. Posing along St Tropez roads felt good and the bike attracted a lot of attention from chic young French girls, although my midget like stature meant I did not get very far with them - I felt sure if they had come on the back and enjoyed the vibro-massage I would have done a lot better.
I eventually got around to fitting a pair of Koni shocks to the back end. They certainly did a lot for the quality of the ride, but ground clearance still severely limited cornering fun. The bike was well at home for gently cruising A roads and in town its narrowness meant I could snake through gaps in traffic with moped ease. I once forgot its length and got it stuck between cars when I tried to do a sharp turn. The car drivers heaped upon me much curses and scorn.
The engine is still whisper quiet, its watercooling really does damp out all the normal rattles, just a gentle exhaust burble. I haven't bothered to touch the valves, have set the twin carbs a couple of times and done regular oil changes. I have spoken to one guy with a 1986 model who had done 64000 miles from new - all he'd had to replace was the camshafts at 43000 miles.
He had some open pipes on his, shortened front forks and longer back shocks - he reckoned that set-up cured the handling problems, but I would have been back to perching on my toe tips to keep the bike upright if I did that. He also claimed a top speed of 125mph, which I didn't believe, although the stock exhaust is very restrictive, so who knows?
The vee twin engine noise is very relaxing, the whole bike urges you to take it easy and be laid back about the trip. The Suzi even makes the trek to the daily drudgery a bit of an adventure......I am often tempted to open the throttle and roar past the factory gates in the search for some fun and excitement. Even the Roller owning boss has commented favourably on the appearance of the VS, adding that he must be paying me too much if I can afford such a beast. Bastard!
Finish is still good, although the frame has required the odd touch up where a blister of rust has come through. Chrome, even on the exhausts, is still shining, but then I give the bike a weekly dose of Autosol. The front guard did crack at its mounting point but I managed to patch it up with a GRP kit.
The electrics have not been trouble free. Some of the ignition wiring insulation cracked and fell off. It took a lot of searching to find why the motor was cutting out but was easy to fix with insulation tape once found. Another cracked wire kept the front light flicking on and off; it wasn't much cop when it was working properly and you had to peer into the blackness on unlit roads. The left switch cluster needed weekly doses of WD40 to stop it misbehaving, but as long as it got this did not cause any other problems even in torrential downpours.
As the VS750 is one of the few big bikes I can reach the ground on, I'm sort of stuck with it. That makes me kind of happy as it's an extremely pleasant bike to potter along upon. In the two years I've had the bikes, many of my mates have lost their licences, and two their lives, so the more I ride the Suzuki the more sense it makes.
D.K.M.
****************************************************
The VS750 was a bit of a step up in my world of motorcycling. My previous mounts had been the rare, exotic Fantic chopper cum moped and then a rotted, ubiquitous Yamaha SR125. After these two horrors the big Suzuki was bliss. This was helped by being a mere fourteen months and 3900 miles old. The only off-putting note in the private deal was that the owner was some 250lb monster who looked like the major achievement of the day would be staggering out of bed. He'd explained he had gland trouble, had bloated out a 100lbs in a year, was no longer able to safely ride the Suzuki.
The VS has a great, stonking 750cc vee twin that puts out a mere 60 horses with no need to rev much beyond 6500rpm, when, anyway, loads of vibes made an appearance. The gearbox wasn't as slick as I'd hoped, with some crunching noises and a bit of shaft drive lash that'd send the rear suspension into a minor frenzy.
But, usually, I'd get the engine into top gear as soon as possible, use the torque to power along at any speed between 25 and 80mph. Rather than struggling against the limitations of the horrible old hacks I'd owned previously, I was thrown into a wonderfully laid back riding style that was in no way limited by the 450lbs of mass or the custom style. In fact, the low seat height and a lot of the metal slung near the ground, meant that the VS had a surprisingly secure feel on smooth, straight roads.
Some limitations were immediately evident on twisting A-roads, for although the bike could be banked over without feeling like it was going to fall apart, it didn't take much effort to scrape the undercarriage, which produced massive, destructive twitches. This limitation meant I often ended up running wide through the bends, taking the Suzuki over on to the wrong side of the road. The solution was simple enough, in theory, lose some speed. In practice, even with minimal miles on the clock, the front disc didn't seem very powerful and would resist my urgent, desperate efforts.
I had a look at the brake after the first week of frightening myself silly, found the pads were already down to the metal. The replacements lasted twice as long, so I can only guess that the previous owner's obese frame had led to massive overheating and metallurgical degradation of the pads. With decent pads the brake worked quite well, until after 9000 miles the calipers started to do the usual seizure trick. When they were working properly wet weather performance was more than adequate, almost brilliant after what I was used to.
To celebrate my arrival in the world of serious motorcycling I was soon taking the VS farther and farther afield. One amazing feat of survival, on one such excursion, was when the front tyre blew at 40mph. It went flat in an instant, by the time I'd slewed, wobbled off the road the rim was clanking along the ground. I'd only stopped myself falling off by quickly putting both feet down, nearly suffering a double amputation at the knees judging by how they were jarred.
I couldn't walk for about 15 minutes, ending up shaking by the side of the bike after spewing up my lunch. Only by exerting Ninja like control did I stop myself dumping a load out of the other end. Being ten miles from the nearest town didn't help but as I was pondering my next move, a farm truck rolled up, piloted by a keen scrambler who was only too happy to sling the bike in the back and head for civilisation.
I ended up hiring a Transit for the weekend, heading the 300 miles home with half the bike poking out the back of the van. That's the trouble with these long wheelbase cycles. The rim was too dented to continue, in fact I ended up buying a new wheel as there were no good ones in breakers. The tyres were slightly naff Japanese stuff but not too worn, so it was a good excuse to put on some decent British rubber. They helped with the wet weather riding, although the power delivery was never so vicious to put even the Oriental rubber at risk.
The unexplained tyre blow-up (some lunatic practising his rifle shooting?) happened at 5200 miles, the bike then did a long hot summer worth's of riding that ended with 11,600 miles on the clock. All I did was an oil change every 2000 miles and the odd bit of tyre kicking. Winter riding didn't inspire so by the next spring there were still less than 12000 miles on the clock. Over the winter I did treat it to a valve and carb service but it didn't make any difference to how the engine ran. The less maintenance I did the better it seemed to go!
Until 16,700 miles when the engine went dead. Felt like fuel starvation, so I pulled the tube off and got a dose of petrol over the engine. Frantic churning on the starter resulted in the front cylinder coming in but it threatened to die a death at any moment, a trait it did when I tried to ride off. This time the failure wasn't far from home, so it was push, rest, push, rest for a mere mile and a half. Not exactly fun.
The only warning I'd had that things were turning dodgy was fuel coming down from a tolerable 60mpg to a mere 45mpg. As I was using it only in town I hadn't noticed a loss of top end power. The problem was with one of the cam lobes on the back cylinder breaking up, smashing the rocker up as well. I hadn't heard it going down as I'd degutted the silencers, producing a very healthy roar without affecting the carburation.
I did that because I thought that the cagers were ignoring my existence to a dangerous extent. The VS was not the kind of bike that was easy to manoeuvre through tight traffic and the low seat height meant I had little idea of what was going down up ahead. The noisy exhaust did help with keeping the car drivers in line, as did my sporting an ancient leather and a few years growth of demented beard.
A used cylinder head solved the problem, I don't know how common it is, the breaker had heard of no other examples. Good VS750 engines are available in breakers as it's usually the chassis that gets written off first. I didn't find it an easy motor to work on, there were too many fiddly bits to piss around with. After that experience I did a full service every 2000 miles, just to be on the safe side.
That was rather tedious when I spent a month roaring around France, often doing more than 500 miles in day. Pushed the comfort to the limit, as it was difficult to hold on above 70mph and the normally plush seat turned into a bed of razor blades after the first 250 miles. A couple of times my right leg seized up, massive cramps meaning I had to ride with my leg sticking straight out until I could pull over, stagger off the bike for a screaming fit. I wasn't even thirty years old yet was afflicted with geriatric pains! The armchair-like riding position obviously wasn't as comfortable as first impressions might suggest.
By the end of the summer 27000 miles were clocked up. The engine was running fine, with neither nasty rattles nor smoking exhausts but the cosmetics had taken a battering. Chrome was falling off, alloy was rotting and the sheen of the paint was a thing of the past. I decided the winter would be better spent doing a complete cosmetic renovation than riding - any excuse for avoiding the nasty winter weather.
The spring of the next year found the VS looking beautiful in candy red, with a lot of minor details tidied up. I had to buy a new exhaust system and a low mileage set of forks, as the former was full of rust and the latter worn out beyond cheap renovation, although it hadn't really affected the handling.
3000 miles later the engine was backfiring loudly and performance was only on a level with a restricted 125. The front cylinder's exhaust valve had burnt out, probably down to the modified exhaust. There wasn't any other damage so I spent a fun filled afternoon grinding in a used valve and cleaning off the carbon. I was becoming an expert at stripping down VS motors.
I celebrated this rebuild by riding with a new-found viciousness that often had the chassis twisted up, the tyres screaming for mercy. Rather like with Harleys, if you put a lot of muscle in (after grinding off inconveniences like stand prongs to increase ground clearance) the bike will wobble and twist but go exactly where you want it. I occasionally broke through the ton, but it couldn't be called a pleasant experience.
This went on to about 34000 miles when the battery gave up. I thought it was just old age but the new one also refused to hold a charge. The melted rectifier and burnt out alternator had me delving into the wonderful world of electricity. I could actually run around with the charging circuit disconnected, putting the battery on the charger for the night. The bike was off the road for a week whilst I waited for an exchange alternator but managed to find a used rectifier.
It took another 2500 miles for the gearbox to become very nasty, the shaft drive whining in protest at the forced mismatch between engine and road speed resulting from the reluctance to engage gear. I found the best solution was to take off in second, with a bit of clutch slip, and boot up into top as soon as possible - these two gears provided all the necessary range of speed.
The way the gearbox had suddenly gone nasty convinced me that the end was nigh for the engine. The cosmetics were in such nice shape that I had no problems selling the bike. I enjoyed mine for most of the time, but could have done without the engine hassles.
John Nestor
****************************************************
The VS750 was a bit of a step up in my world of motorcycling. My previous mounts had been the rare, exotic Fantic chopper cum moped and then a rotted, ubiquitous Yamaha SR125. After these two horrors the big Suzuki was bliss. This was helped by being a mere fourteen months and 3900 miles old. The only off-putting note in the private deal was that the owner was some 250lb monster who looked like the major achievement of the day would be staggering out of bed. He'd explained he had gland trouble, had bloated out a 100lbs in a year, was no longer able to safely ride the Suzuki.
The VS has a great, stonking 750cc vee twin that puts out a mere 60 horses with no need to rev much beyond 6500rpm, when, anyway, loads of vibes made an appearance. The gearbox wasn't as slick as I'd hoped, with some crunching noises and a bit of shaft drive lash that'd send the rear suspension into a minor frenzy.
But, usually, I'd get the engine into top gear as soon as possible, use the torque to power along at any speed between 25 and 80mph. Rather than struggling against the limitations of the horrible old hacks I'd owned previously, I was thrown into a wonderfully laid back riding style that was in no way limited by the 450lbs of mass or the custom style. In fact, the low seat height and a lot of the metal slung near the ground, meant that the VS had a surprisingly secure feel on smooth, straight roads.
Some limitations were immediately evident on twisting A-roads, for although the bike could be banked over without feeling like it was going to fall apart, it didn't take much effort to scrape the undercarriage, which produced massive, destructive twitches. This limitation meant I often ended up running wide through the bends, taking the Suzuki over on to the wrong side of the road. The solution was simple enough, in theory, lose some speed. In practice, even with minimal miles on the clock, the front disc didn't seem very powerful and would resist my urgent, desperate efforts.
I had a look at the brake after the first week of frightening myself silly, found the pads were already down to the metal. The replacements lasted twice as long, so I can only guess that the previous owner's obese frame had led to massive overheating and metallurgical degradation of the pads. With decent pads the brake worked quite well, until after 9000 miles the calipers started to do the usual seizure trick. When they were working properly wet weather performance was more than adequate, almost brilliant after what I was used to.
To celebrate my arrival in the world of serious motorcycling I was soon taking the VS farther and farther afield. One amazing feat of survival, on one such excursion, was when the front tyre blew at 40mph. It went flat in an instant, by the time I'd slewed, wobbled off the road the rim was clanking along the ground. I'd only stopped myself falling off by quickly putting both feet down, nearly suffering a double amputation at the knees judging by how they were jarred.
I couldn't walk for about 15 minutes, ending up shaking by the side of the bike after spewing up my lunch. Only by exerting Ninja like control did I stop myself dumping a load out of the other end. Being ten miles from the nearest town didn't help but as I was pondering my next move, a farm truck rolled up, piloted by a keen scrambler who was only too happy to sling the bike in the back and head for civilisation.
I ended up hiring a Transit for the weekend, heading the 300 miles home with half the bike poking out the back of the van. That's the trouble with these long wheelbase cycles. The rim was too dented to continue, in fact I ended up buying a new wheel as there were no good ones in breakers. The tyres were slightly naff Japanese stuff but not too worn, so it was a good excuse to put on some decent British rubber. They helped with the wet weather riding, although the power delivery was never so vicious to put even the Oriental rubber at risk.
The unexplained tyre blow-up (some lunatic practising his rifle shooting?) happened at 5200 miles, the bike then did a long hot summer worth's of riding that ended with 11,600 miles on the clock. All I did was an oil change every 2000 miles and the odd bit of tyre kicking. Winter riding didn't inspire so by the next spring there were still less than 12000 miles on the clock. Over the winter I did treat it to a valve and carb service but it didn't make any difference to how the engine ran. The less maintenance I did the better it seemed to go!
Until 16,700 miles when the engine went dead. Felt like fuel starvation, so I pulled the tube off and got a dose of petrol over the engine. Frantic churning on the starter resulted in the front cylinder coming in but it threatened to die a death at any moment, a trait it did when I tried to ride off. This time the failure wasn't far from home, so it was push, rest, push, rest for a mere mile and a half. Not exactly fun.
The only warning I'd had that things were turning dodgy was fuel coming down from a tolerable 60mpg to a mere 45mpg. As I was using it only in town I hadn't noticed a loss of top end power. The problem was with one of the cam lobes on the back cylinder breaking up, smashing the rocker up as well. I hadn't heard it going down as I'd degutted the silencers, producing a very healthy roar without affecting the carburation.
I did that because I thought that the cagers were ignoring my existence to a dangerous extent. The VS was not the kind of bike that was easy to manoeuvre through tight traffic and the low seat height meant I had little idea of what was going down up ahead. The noisy exhaust did help with keeping the car drivers in line, as did my sporting an ancient leather and a few years growth of demented beard.
A used cylinder head solved the problem, I don't know how common it is, the breaker had heard of no other examples. Good VS750 engines are available in breakers as it's usually the chassis that gets written off first. I didn't find it an easy motor to work on, there were too many fiddly bits to piss around with. After that experience I did a full service every 2000 miles, just to be on the safe side.
That was rather tedious when I spent a month roaring around France, often doing more than 500 miles in day. Pushed the comfort to the limit, as it was difficult to hold on above 70mph and the normally plush seat turned into a bed of razor blades after the first 250 miles. A couple of times my right leg seized up, massive cramps meaning I had to ride with my leg sticking straight out until I could pull over, stagger off the bike for a screaming fit. I wasn't even thirty years old yet was afflicted with geriatric pains! The armchair-like riding position obviously wasn't as comfortable as first impressions might suggest.
By the end of the summer 27000 miles were clocked up. The engine was running fine, with neither nasty rattles nor smoking exhausts but the cosmetics had taken a battering. Chrome was falling off, alloy was rotting and the sheen of the paint was a thing of the past. I decided the winter would be better spent doing a complete cosmetic renovation than riding - any excuse for avoiding the nasty winter weather.
The spring of the next year found the VS looking beautiful in candy red, with a lot of minor details tidied up. I had to buy a new exhaust system and a low mileage set of forks, as the former was full of rust and the latter worn out beyond cheap renovation, although it hadn't really affected the handling.
3000 miles later the engine was backfiring loudly and performance was only on a level with a restricted 125. The front cylinder's exhaust valve had burnt out, probably down to the modified exhaust. There wasn't any other damage so I spent a fun filled afternoon grinding in a used valve and cleaning off the carbon. I was becoming an expert at stripping down VS motors.
I celebrated this rebuild by riding with a new-found viciousness that often had the chassis twisted up, the tyres screaming for mercy. Rather like with Harleys, if you put a lot of muscle in (after grinding off inconveniences like stand prongs to increase ground clearance) the bike will wobble and twist but go exactly where you want it. I occasionally broke through the ton, but it couldn't be called a pleasant experience.
This went on to about 34000 miles when the battery gave up. I thought it was just old age but the new one also refused to hold a charge. The melted rectifier and burnt out alternator had me delving into the wonderful world of electricity. I could actually run around with the charging circuit disconnected, putting the battery on the charger for the night. The bike was off the road for a week whilst I waited for an exchange alternator but managed to find a used rectifier.
It took another 2500 miles for the gearbox to become very nasty, the shaft drive whining in protest at the forced mismatch between engine and road speed resulting from the reluctance to engage gear. I found the best solution was to take off in second, with a bit of clutch slip, and boot up into top as soon as possible - these two gears provided all the necessary range of speed.
The way the gearbox had suddenly gone nasty convinced me that the end was nigh for the engine. The cosmetics were in such nice shape that I had no problems selling the bike. I enjoyed mine for most of the time, but could have done without the engine hassles.
John Nestor