The GSX550 had suffered a traumatic lifestyle. Its previous owner having been a bit of a despatching nutcase. Rear tyres were bald in 3000 miles, chains snapped on a regular basis and plastic bodywork cracked, scarred and tore whenever he felt the urge to fall off. Its most ferocious fling took place at 90mph when the successful negotiation of a bend was not viable and a swift detour into a ditch the result. This bent the forks beyond recognition and tore apart the steering head assembly. The relevant parts were replaced so that only the scratch on the owner's Boeri which had butted mother earth at an inordinate speed lay testimony to the event actually taking place.
I therefore bought the matt black hound in a fair to middling level of lack of roadworthiness. There were only two out of a possible four bolts clamping the front wheel spindle to the forks, oil leaked out of the sump plug, the crankshaft was, and still is, visibly in motion at a frantic pace due to the pick-up cover's absence. The front master cylinder was off a GS650 and flexed when the brake's applied, whilst fluent riding is marred by second gear jumping out and third gear being a neutral - a common trait amongst high mileage GSX550s. This, made worse by tight spots in a worn chain. It is therefore totally infuriating to ride and I want to buy a new engine, but finding an honest breaker is a big problem.
Good tyres on the GSX are absolutely essential if you value both the bike's and your own anatomy. This is because the bike forces the helpless rider to race everywhere, treating every roundabout as an opportunity to fry the tyre edges to shreds. Avon Roadrunner AM20/21's come with recommendations, as they not only keep the bike upright but also give a continuous progress report upon how far you can lean the damn thing over.
The majority of power is produced above 7000rpm but it will take less revs to slide the back end when accelerating hard in first whilst banked over on bumpy country roads. I've even developed a tyre fetish and can be seen racing around Mallory park paddock examining everyone's rubber to see how much bottle they have. It's now got a Metz on the rear after the old one was illegal, deformed and deflating at a disconcerting rate. A burn out and doughnut session contributed to its final demise and the constant prospect of losing the back end when accelerating hard on bends due to the 18psi tyre pressure was curtailed.
Fuel consumption varies between 32 and 65mpg, depending on acceleration and speed. At 85mph it does 45mpg, at 100mph around 35mpg, 55mpg at 70mph and 65mpg at 55mph. However it's impossible to ride at the latter's snail's pace for any distance without a dangerous boredom factor occurring, unless it's foggy, snowing, you're running out of gas or trying to attain the impossible with a girlfriend. For some time, two cylinders have cut out erratically due to the dirt and muck in the carbs. This naturally occurred at the most inconvenient times such as when overtaking or going round complicated roundabouts.
A trip up to Northampton stretched the chain sufficiently for it to jump off the sprockets, producing a long and lurid slide, a missing drive and a five mile push home. It's after this sort of disaster that I manage to summon up the motivation to actually do some mechanical investigation and solve the problem - the bike gets wheeled into the flat and some heavy metal music accompanies the spanner wielding. Usually, the landlord makes a surprise appearance, his superficial smile of greeting rapidly replaced by abject horror and a tirade of abuse plus a reminder of how five gallons of fuel is just waiting for the right moment to wipe out the whole tenement.
The GSX had always had bad luck in Leicester, the previous owner banned for six months after being caught without insurance. I was working there for four days with a mate on a Suzi GT750 (bloody bland, according to the Ed), cruising around wearing suits. We cruised into the centre on a Saturday night, brain fried from lack of sleep and were attacked by the savage one way system. I pulled out without looking after nearly entering a no entry street when a scream of skidding tyres revealed a Sierra which was on collision course but managed to grind to a halt a mere six inches away.
"I could have taken your f...ing legs off you stupid cunt. All you bikers are the same, think you're f..king super heroes." The driver was looking for a fight but we were too tired to oblige so we all went into a Burger King where I had to listen to a diatribe as to why he could never consider slinging a leg over a bike, let alone ride one of the damn things. Finally we got shot of his harassment only to have a plod mobile follow us home and even cruise past our temporary home a few times. Compared with the GT750 the GSX could out brake, accelerate, handle and speed it, as well as being a good 10-15mpg better on mpg. However, the GT is far more pleasant to look at, has more character and street cred, plus it's a more comfortable high speed cruiser, as well as a sound investment.
On a road such as the A416 from Matlock to Alfreton the 550 was in its element, rocketing round all bends, chewing rubber like a ravenous Tasmanian devil. The GT, however, would bounce off line and scare the shit out of the rider if the line had to be altered mid bend to avoid dissecting a car.
On a weekend mission to St David's in Wales, I began to understand that the amazing roads were the root cause of perhaps some of the Ed's more obscure eccentricities revealed in his rambling. Some of the roads were absolutely phenomenal and this was before the magic mushroom season. The B5421 from Ross to Abergavenny was bliss. The first glimpse of culture shock hit at the backward garage which was like something out of the thirties. The riding pace jumped in tune to the knackered chain and we nearly ran out of road on a blind left just escaping the edge of the ditch on the wrong side of the road.
Slightly after this heart palpitation, I vaguely remember an insect fly down my leather jacket and sink its proboscis in at 70mph. The ensuing chest cramp prompted a frantic beating of my jacket to stop the kamikaze pilot from reeking internal injury. The chain was making more noise than the engine and causing earth shuddering vibes, plus a detour to M & P in Swansea.
The handling is often criticised for being twitchy due to the 16 inch front wheel, but I find it more stable and controlled than RS250s and quicker steering than Z650, XJ550, GT750 and BSA A10. The frame must be very good, as despite all the crashes, it still banks over without trauma at ton plus speeds on fast sweepers. In fact, the faster you go the more confidence inspiring it becomes and in S bends it's a pure joy. Having said that, doing something silly like taking both hands off the bars at any speed develops a huge tankslapper!
The engine is a 16 valve four with tappets that need adjusting every 3000 miles. The 4-1 exhaust annoyingly obscures the sump plug so has to be removed every 1500 miles at the cost of exhaust gaskets and patience. It's done 70,000 miles, cost me £375 and still struggles up to 120mph, two up, if it's in the mood and the chain isn't messing around. There's ample torque below 6000rpm to keep ahead of most of the traffic but always sounds frantic and urges you to thrash it faster. The addition of a passenger turns it into a slug and requires downchanges for overtaking.
Engine vibes are quite prominent at this mileage but no smoke pours out of the exhaust and bits don't fall off. The alternator is a very tight fit and tricky and expensive to rewind. It is worth putting a fuse between alternator and rectifier to stop the latter burning out, which has happened two times on mine. The first replaced with a secondhand Suzi unit and the second with a rewired Superdream item which hasn't worked successfully as the battery burns off electrolyte all too often.
The brakes have aged quite considerably since 1983. The back disc has always behaved disgracefully. At the moment it squeals so much that it sounds like feedback on a PA. If an emergency stop is in progress and the front brake is squeezing the discs enough to boil the fluid then merely dabbing the back will send it slewing to one side in full lock up mode. It's much better to keep it for special occasions like Christmas and Easter, or use it in foreign countries where the road surface is so bad that using the front stoppers will have you off. It works okay on its own but requires a lot of time and patience to bleed and clean.
Sometimes the front brake can squeal the front tyre and at others they'll struggle to clean the dust off the discs - temperamental bastards. Mine's got a GS650 master cylinder and seven year old hoses but still hauls the 432lbs up promptly enough. Pads cost £12 a pair and seals about £3 each. When I cleaned the calipers there was a black sludge inside and a veneer of corrosion that could not easily be removed with wet and dry. I pretended the black indentation didn't exist as they're too expensive to throw in the bin and replace.
The Stockiemuir road near Glasgow was enfamed in issue 4 for its jumps, pub, scenery and high death toll for those who ride too drunk or beyond their abilities. Living in Glasgow, I often found it necessary to escape from the day to day anxieties and aggro by going for burn ups along this nice race track that passes for a road. The GSX had always been very happy leaping around the tarmac until I shoved it into the powerband in 4th just before the first hillock where you lose sight of the oncoming road.
That was the closest I've come to completely totalling the bike. At about 85mph the front wheel took off and literally leapt up into the air as the still accelerating back wheel dropped with the road. The handlebars waggled from side to side and my view of the upper atmosphere gave me a sufficient adrenalin overdose to offer a prayer book of hymns in the blink of an eye for it to return to mother earth. In this situation it is always much better to carry on at an horrendous pace than to stop and have a nervous breakdown on the verge. It is definitely for good reason that so many people have died on this road to hell.
A Highland tour in the company of a Guzzi 1000 was marred by the bike being relocated on the night that Scotland beat Costa Rica in the world cup. The previous evening we'd ridden up to Lancaster on the tedious M6, repeatedly leapfrogging to relieve the tedium. I had fallen in a cowpat underneath the GSX in a remote Lancashire lane when on a campsite recon and then been woken up by cows eating the tent at 4am in the morning - a good lesson to avoid camping out in the dark. The Highland roads are phenomenal when dry but treacherous when wet - the prospect of flying over a hedge and laying in a cow field with a compound fracture in an arm and leg out of view of the road until the blood supply expires does not appeal.
Most riders intensely dislike the rain but when you get as much as you do in a wet and slimy autumnal Glasgow you begin to appreciate the virtuous ability to wheelspin and slide the back tyre in a controlled drift when exiting junctions. Doing a U-turn in a tight street is much easier by using an excess of revs and doughnuting the back round then struggling with the mass. I let a girlfriend loose on it in the summer only for it to collapse on her leg when it overbalanced leading to a 4am sortie to the hospital.
The bike copes with long journeys quite well. Oxford to Glasgow takes about six hours at a steady 85mph apart from when stuck behind the traffic slowing plod mobiles. Comfort is increased by a duvet on the tank and feet on the pillion's pegs. Sometimes it's better to leave the headphones at home as the music makes you all too conscious of the time. It's much better to veg out and detach oneself from reality. The next long distance sortie will be to Barcelona in March, which will really test the bike's reliability and my inability to drive on the wrong side of the road.
In short, the GSX is like most middleweights, a very practical and enjoyable means of transport. Naturally, there are other bikes I'd prefer, a Z1300 or old style GSX1100 are high up on the shopping list. If one of these was bought it would undergo weight saving surgery just leaving a huge engine, petrol tank and a couple of wheels - forget the exhaust. The GSX's low cost permits constant facelifts - matt black, camouflage with netting, gloss black and fluorescent green - which would not be viable on a new bike.
It is spoilt by rapid chain wear and rectifier demise but that fairing does aid high speed comfort. I preferred my old XJ550! I would not buy another one as in a way it's a bit of a plastic missile but at least the plastic supports the bike when sliding up the road. The success of the continental trip will determine whether I fall in love with it or loathe and despise it forever and a day.
Bruce Jones
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The Suzuki GSX550 has now been under my mismanagement for a year and a bit, in which time it has suffered more than its fair share of trauma. Living in Glasgow and going for regular Highland burn ups and crashes are going to be inevitable, especially when you view the road as a race track. The big spill occurred after an afternoon's frenzied riding in the Campsie Fells, the pace gradually increasing and the angles of leans becoming more than a little silly.
I had just stopped by a river to do some drawing when two dirty urchins came along. They clambered on to the bike and dribbled huge quantities of saliva into the lid whilst mimicking a frenzied engine noise. Eventually, I could handle it no more and bumped it into life whilst they refused to let go of the rear rack, thus getting dragged up the road.
I was by then brain fried and going ballistic, taking off the ground over a monster hump back bridge and then flying towards a notorious black spot bend. I made the split second decision to avoid the brakes and get my knee on the deck instead. However, this patella contact coincided with the loss of the front tyre's adhesion and I was spewed off the bike, happily sliding off the road whilst watching the bike self destruct.
I immediately yanked the GSX up so as not to give the car driver who I had just burnt off the satisfaction of laughing at my stupidity, so I waved as he passed but the tell-tale wedges of grass betrayed the crash. The handlebar was bent, the exhaust smashed beyond recognition, the pick- up cover and assembly ripped apart and the indicators rendered useless.
If it had been a brand new spanking bike on HP I would have burst into tears and been a broken man, chucking myself under the first tractor. But seeing as it was a knackered old dog and I'd just bestowed it with more fighting scars and deep meaningful character, I was ecstatic with happiness. Whether this was because I was suffering from the confusion and misplaced euphoria that accompanies a heavy dose of shock or because I had at last gone completely mad and lost all touch with reality and the desire to live beyond 25, I don't know.
I therefore had to push it to the nearest pub in Fintry to wait for the AA. It was here that I was told of how to control Suzuki electrics - use a Superdream rectifier, ensure all connections are impeccable, mount it behind the right-hand side panel for air cooling and preserve the alternator with 1000 mile oil changes.
After three weeks of being off the road waiting for parts to come from extortionate bike breakers, your leathers are shredded and you're faced with a mangled heap of junk, then the whole charade of riding like a maniac stinks of regret and nurtures a doomed gut feeling, that makes the momentary impulse to take the risk so devastatingly - people I know who have paralysed themselves or killed their pillions know this far better.
Eventually, I was on the road again, an exhaust off an unnamed Yamaha was bought for 85p off a closing down breaker - it seems that there's little demand for them outside London unless they're big mail order concerns, two having closed down in Glasgow in the last year. To celebrate the occasion, a Highland tour was arranged with the latest girl friend.
This nearly ended prematurely when the chain threatened to come off the sprockets on Rannock Moor - it had stretched an unbelievable amount in the last 100 miles since I had taken two links out. We asked the nearest cottage for some Molegrips and were overwhelmed with coffee, obscure liquors, country music and chat before we could drag ourselves away to set up tent overlooking Shee-Halyon, therefore high enough to escape the ravages of the valley midges. A helmetless burn up to a romance filled nearby lock was fun in fourth. On the way home my girlfriend fell asleep but somehow managed to stay on board despite frantic bend swinging.
On another occasion a spontaneous decision to take off into the countryside one Friday led to an amusing weekend. The pillion was, this time, one of the most obnoxious people ever to inhabit this earth - you can afford to be when you're six foot five. He donned the white pudding basin and reflector shades, went on to intimidate motorists at traffic lights by sticking his head through the open car windows and emitting earth shaking belches and stealing cigarettes from under their noses. He tried this trick in a cafe, doing a huge belch before making a sharp exit, making it seem to the shocked clientele that it was myself with the gut problem.
I got my own back on the phenomenal coastal road, north of Helensburgh, by doing a huge jump that left only his foot in contact with the footrest and the bike keeling over at a disturbing angle. Unfortunately, the mad bastard thought this hilarious, ironic seeing as I hadn't even seen the jump. After a mission into the hills to find Rob Roy's cave that involved demolishing a fence to get the bike around the waterboard's gate (we had previously used a Forestry Commission fence for firewood), we met some bikers at the idyllic setting of Inverrary. They were looking for a campsite and we for petrol. I embarrassed myself by dropping the bike in front of them whilst in a U-turn. They softened the damaged pride with comments on the underlying moss but I blamed the mad Irishman on the back. We then went to the campsite and started planning how to siphon petrol out of a speed boat that was in a shed but the owner came along and kindly siphoned it out of his own car instead - generous people, these Highlanders.
The GSX now has two illegal tyres, a dead brake light, fried battery, empty forks, erratic starting and an MOT due next week. It suffered a recent puncture caused by a brat upstairs reared on violent videos and inner city solitude whose vocation in life is to destroy, tear apart and vandalise everything in sight that gets strewn in the close, including bottles and mirrors. On the occasion that I dumped a battery outside he had it torn in half within an afternoon. A flash of lightning will strike him down if he starts laying into the bike, which is being enveloped in its own personal rain forest.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance has been bought for inspiration to do the maintenance but I find the horrendous chemicals that one has to deal with tends to shed yards of skin from my fingers due to a nasty accident with chain lube some time ago!
Bruce Jones
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I first noticed that something was wrong with the rear mono-shock when I rode fast over a series of bump. The road surface had been neglected for years, but that did not fully explain the way the back end leapt about. I pulled over, fearing a puncture. The bike had only done 19000 miles then, so I was surprised that the swinging arm had some play in it.
Also, the front fork seals had started leaking. The handling had become more and more twitchy as the tyres wore down. I found that a set of Metz's were only good for about 7000 miles. The front still had 3mm of tread left at that point, but its 16" size didn't help it maintain stability once worn past a certain point. I didn't fix the forks or back end for another 1500 miles, at which point there were some really violent speed wobbles once past 95mph.
Handling was usually pretty good. The ride was a little remote, making it difficult to know just when the tyres were going to let loose when on the edge. The relatively mild way the power flowed out of the engine did mean that the frame, a hefty square section job, was never put under too much stress. Weighing about 430lbs the bike felt light in town, flickable on country roads yet reassuringly stable when cruising fast along motorways. All those merits disappeared rapidly when the suspension components or tyres wore too much.
I took the back end apart, drilling in some grease nipples whilst I was at it. Not a smear of grease was in evidence, just a lot of worn bearings. Thereafter, every time I changed the oil (1000 miles) I pumped grease into the mono- shock spindles. They are still okay with 97000 miles done so far. The front forks were not so easily tamed, as new seals only last for around 10,000 miles.
Also the front end has a weird and wonderful anti-dive system that is linked into the hydraulic brake circuit. The twin discs worked rather well whatever the weather conditions when I first had the bike. Every winter, though, the piston seals would gum up, leading to a couple of strip downs. Every time new brake fluid was added, some air got into the anti-dive part of the system, causing the latter to turn the front forks into pogo- sticks. When working properly the anti-dive was useful for counteracting the huge braking forces available. Calipers only lasted about 25000 miles until they were no longer repairable. Breakers do a good trade in newish ones.
In fact, by the time 60,000 miles were accomplished the front end was in such a bad state that I had no choice but to buy a whole newish unit off a breaker for £150. Not even the discs were salvageable from the old one as they had worn wafer thin. The breaker threw in a newish rear shock, which was just as well because since 55000 miles the original one had started leaking oil. Surprisingly, the lack of damping did not upset the back end. Or perhaps I was too concerned about the way the front end was flopping about all over the place.
This newer front end proved to be rather more robust than the old one, with just the obligatory oil seal changes and caliper rebuilds required. Pads lasted about 15000 miles on the front and as much as 25000 miles on the rear disc, which I rarely used. The speedo cables were consumed at an horrendous rate, anything from 4000 to 7000 miles a piece. Ridiculous!
The bike ran up to 22000 miles on the original chain and sprockets. Replacements, perhaps because they were patterns, rarely did more than 10,000 miles even when I stomped up for an O-ring chain. Even with a knackered chain and high mileage, the gearbox remained smooth and precise. The only time it lost its poise was when I did a hard, fast run of over 500 miles in a day. The engine burnt about a litre of oil which left the level dangerously low. Any bike with a ratty gearbox has been thrashed, so should be avoided.
Buying a bike with around 20,000 miles on the clock could be an expensive business. Along with the faults listed above, the exhaust starts to fall apart at this mileage. Rotted out baffles might make the bike sound flash but they also lead to huge flat spots in the rev range. I fitted a Motad Neta, which took out some of the midrange torque but has lasted very well. It's extremely easy to strip the threads in the cylinder head that hold on the exhaust clamps. I took three of mine out but got away with using Araldite to repair them.
The power comes in at around 7000rpm, but not to the extent that it really gets the blood running or could throw the machine off the road in the wet. Below that the Suzuki is easy to ride but accelerates no better than a thrashed CB250N. The six speed gearbox could do with two gears less, I often roar off in second with no apparent ill effects (the clutch is still original). It's possible to fit a slightly larger gearbox sprocket which would give a more relaxed cruising poise. I never bothered, as I found the bike would lope along at ton plus speeds with no vibes, with some additional acceleration still on hand if the need arose.
The half fairing of the ES version provides a useful degree of wind protection but hands and knees are drenched in the wet and frozen in the cold just like on a bare bike. Neither does the plastic aid aerodynamics, fuel economy often hovering on the wrong side of 40mpg, whilst top speed is a mere 125mph. The bike is well off the pace compared to the latest 600s, but its relaxed riding position does mean that prolonged town riding is easily encompassed as well as indecently fast touring.
Engine reliability has been top notch. Poor starting had been the mere result of worn spark plugs. Both carbs and valves have settled down well, only needing minor attention every 10,000 miles. I have heard of cases of exhaust valves burning out but suspect that is down to running on illicit exhausts without changing the carb jetting. The bike is still on the original camchain, not rattling to any noticeable degree.
My extremely regular oil changes (with an oil filter swap every 5000 miles) must've played a large part in this longevity.
I was initially paranoid about the robustness of the electrical components, especially the alternator and rectifier/regulator unit. I took the precaution of wiring in separate earth leads for all the black boxes and mounting them on additional rubber blocks. Every 5000 miles I go over all the leads making sure that there are no loose connections. This has worked well, as I have not experienced any failures.
What usually seems to happen is than the rectifier/regulator fails partially but not enough to stop the machine charging. Bulbs or fuses start blowing, the alternator burns out a coil. By the time the rectifier/regulator fails completely, the voltage surges have taken out the electronic ignition, burnt out all the alternator coils and boiled the battery. A watchful eye has to be kept on the electrical system to avoid such an expensive fate, it is an extremely common event with GS and GSX series engines.
Finish has been very variable. The black engine paint has lasted well, as has that on the petrol tank. The plastic bits have developed lots of small cracks but have not actually fallen apart. The frame paint seems to fall off as fast as it can be applied, whilst the wheels need to be taken out every 15000 miles, hosed down and touched up. Chrome is limited to the fork stanchions, it started to go off at about 40,000 miles and was well pitted by the time I did the front end swap.
I came to the GSX550 straight from a maggot 125, so the difference in performance, handling and weight was all the more magnified. I found the bike extremely easy to ride, very stable at low speeds with the modest power output below 7000 revs giving a new rider plenty of time to get used to the machine before going wild with the throttle. In over 70,000 miles I have never fallen off the bike, nor even had it fall over when grappling with the far from easy to use centrestand.
I've used the bike for everything. The daily grind into work, fast rides in the night, long weekend tours and more than a couple of month long travels through Europe. The bike continues to amaze me with the way it will knock off several hundred miles in day, just sitting there ticking over contentedly, not even marring its record by dropping the odd spot of oil on to the ground. They were made right up to 1989, so there are still some nice ones around.
Most reports on the GSX suggest that it is a bland motorcycle, but one that is able to encompass most roles. I think it is very unfair to call a motorcycle bland just because it works so very well. Even after five years I am not bored with the machine. I would like something newer - who wouldn't? - but can't get the money together for anything appreciably faster.
Ian Haynes
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A seven year old 1985 machine for £600? There had to be a catch. 45000 miles! The engine started first time, settled down quickly. Overall appearance was better than expected. Helped by a new stock exhaust system and spending its nights safely garaged. A blast on the pillion left me weak in the legs. Compared to my RXS100, the acceleration was mind blowing. Uh, uh, I thought, I'll have it. After kicking the wheels and trying to look more knowledgeable than I really was, the deal was struck.
Riding home I was laughing with the thrill of it. Every time the tacho hit 7000rpm everything went blurred as the traffic in front went backwards and the front wheel went light. The bike did an easy 120mph which had me gripping the bars in a death hold. Not from the handling but from the sheer velocity. At speed the 400lb bike handled with a reassuring ease.
Back home I was enervated by the highway kicks, could barely sit still. I walked around the house reliving the moments of glory, blabbering away about the speed to concerned parents. They had breathed a sigh of relief when the RXS was sold, dropping hints about helping out with the insurance on a nice little car. Now, there was a monster machine in the hallway that they had to squeeze past. The old man was having palpitations because I'd ridden home without any insurance and after an argument with my mother insisted on paying for TPF&T. It was just as well that he was sitting down when I told him how much it was for a 17 year old!
With that sorted I was ready for some serious riding. That mostly involved shooting up to corners 20mph too fast, realising my mistake and whacking on the twin discs. The forks had an excellent anti-dive set-up that took most of the trauma out of my desperate use of the front brake. The bike would bank over with the brake on, bounce a bit once it was released and stay on line until it was time to accelerate out of the corner.
There were times when things went very wrong. When I'd brake just as the forks whacked into a bump with enough force to shake the steering head. Then the whole fairing would wobble and I'd end up aboard a bike that rather than leaning over was trying to go straight across the road. One time I missed the back of a car by inches, frightening myself so much that I had to pull off the road and start gibbering like a chimpanzee.
The solution was to operate some restraint on my right hand, enter corners without the need to brake frantically. This took some doing, as the acceleration from the 65hp DOHC four cylinder engine was intoxicating, as was the drone from the silencers. After a couple of weeks, somehow without killing myself, I felt more in control than like a high speed accident looking for somewhere to happen.
That hadn't stopped me finding out that the top speed was 130mph (helmet bouncing on the clocks) and that the bike had some quite dire weaves above the ton. Felt like the back tyre was slowly deflating but when I checked the tyre pressures they were spot on. The bike had a pair of newish Japlops, the past owner telling me they were much cheaper to buy because dealers had to tear them off new bikes. I suspected that these were the cause of the weaves but wasn't going to change them until they wore out.
The rear tyre was down to the carcass in 5000 miles, the front looked like it would go twice that distance. Dire warnings accompanied my inquiries about mixing and matching tyres but I thought they were just trying to get me to pay up for two tyres. How wrong can you be? The combination of different tyres had the bike hopping all over the road on the 16'' wheels every time I went above 65mph. A day was all it took to convince me of the need to buy a front Metzeler as well.
That was better, although the weaves, perhaps slightly less intense, were still there above 100mph. The Metz's were much better in the wet, though, much more able to control the back wheel when I used the throttle in anger. The rear lasted almost a 1000 miles longer than the Japlop and the front went for about 9000 miles. Not brilliant wear but given the level of grip not bad value for money.
I had to make sure the tyres were up to scratch whenever I did some long distance work. Not just because I didn't want to change them halfway through a trip but also because the suspension was pushed to its limit when two-up, loaded with tons of camping gear. The girlfriend likes a touch of luxury - a bloody massive tent that could comfortably take the GSX as well, if it was allowed. It was whilst loaded up to the gills, leaning on the sidestand, that the bike collapsed on to the tarmac with such a thud that I jumped about a foot in the air. The sidestand had gone and broken. I was thankful for the engine bars which took most of the weight and left a large hole in the tarmac. It was a two man job to put the GSX on the centrestand when loaded up (the bike, not us) and even when free of camping gear a great struggle ensued.
That happened at 53000 miles. A little later, the fairing developed lots of tiny cracks that by the time 55000 miles had passed had all joined up. The fairing, like the pillion pegs, was often attacked by high frequency vibes, although my own perch was insulated from such intrusions and jolly comfortable for hundreds of miles at a time when in high speed touring mode. The cracks were so widespread and the fairing flapped about so much that I bought a replica fairing. A stupid thing to do as it was very thin, wavered around all over the place and after 5000 miles was just about ready to fall off. For half the money I bought a nice secondhand fairing from a breaker. It was a different colour but so shiny that I sprayed the rest of the faded bike to match!
The front brakes had started to become very spongy. New fluid was chucked in and about ten hours later I'd finally got all the air bubbles out of the hydraulics - the anti-dive is linked into the braking circuit making it difficult to purge the system. The calipers had a tendency towards seizing up solidly if not cleaned up every time a new set of pads was fitted at 5-7000 miles.
The engine was a brilliant piece of work, even at 70,000 miles there was nothing wrong with it. The valves had never needed any adjustment and the carbs could be left for 10,000 miles before they went out of balance so far that the clutch rattled and the vibes became frenzied. Oil was changed every 2500 miles and filters at every other oil chance - a lot of the time the GSX was used out of town, had it been a city commuter then I would've halved those distances. The only sign of age was oil that went through the engine at the rate of 500mpp.
When the handling became suddenly vile I didn't have far to look for the cause - I'd already noticed that there were no grease nipples on the mono-shock linkages. Sure enough, there was an excess of play and a whole weekend's worth of work in stripping down the back end to replace the bushes and spindles. With all the suspension turned up high there was the taut feel of a new bike!
Come 72000 miles I had an excess of expenses. The exhaust had rusted through (in less than two years) at one end and corroded into the cylinder head at the other. The flange screws were almost impossible to remove. Only a combination of long bar and big hammer finally had them creaking undone. I was lucky that none broke off. A four into one had been secured from the breaker but needed a lot of work with the hammer. The bike ran well, if loudly, with no carb mods.
No sooner had I done that than the fork seals blew, leading to far from fun 70mph speed wobbles! I found it very hard to make the new set sit properly, and sure enough after 500 miles they went again. It was only on the third set that I achieved the seemingly impossible.
Both the chain and airfilter were also in desperate need of replacement. The hefty O-ring job had lasted over 20,000 miles so I couldn't really complain. I was a bit narked when a month later the battery showed signs of fatigue. The electrical system is sometimes marginal so I bunged a new one in straight away, although I could probably have got another 1000 miles out of it.
The bike now has 75000 miles on the clock and seems set up for the next year or two. The engine's by far the beast feature but the chassis ain't half bad once you get used to it. I've learnt a lot in the last two years and hope for more adventures on the GSX.
A.D.