Owners of Kettles are ever optimistic about their worth - seen them priced at as much as three and a half grand! I wasn't really serious about buying one, just kept seeing a trio of owners wailing past once or twice a week. All shining chrome and paint, partly obscured by the stroker fumes. The three cylinder mammoths were a bit of a laugh back in the early seventies but had somehow got on to the classic curve of ever increasing prices. I've always found with such bikes that prices are very high when you want to buy but suddenly do a runner when you want to sell.
The local breaker/importer had one from the States. Slightly bent, somewhat faded, but only 9000 miles on the clock and it fired up after a couple of kicks. We were soon coughing on the fumes and he seemed happy enough with my offer of 500 quid. I pushed the old heap the half mile home, the squarish front wheel thumping away, needing about three times the normal muscle. As the wheel had a sodding great drum brake, and I hate discs, I decided a new rim and spokes were in order. For 120 notes, the wheel was rebuilt and the forks straightened out. It was obvious that the fork springs were too weak even in the workshop, so a set was found from the breakers for a fiver.
Whilst that was going down, I put in new gearbox oil, fresh engine lubricant, a new set of spark plugs and checked the ignition timing. Exhausted from all that effort, I decided to the leave the chassis as it was and see if the bike was worth investing even more time, effort and money in.
Back on the road, I was surprised by the amount of punch the mill put out. All the stories suggested a fat old dame, down on the goodies and excessive in its mass, but it yowled up the street at a rate that had me hitting on the brakes to avoid the suddenly converging cagers. Not to mention that the front wheel went all light, causing the bars to slam from lock to lock in an alarming enough manner to require a rapid change of undies. So it needed a bit of respect on the throttle, then.
A couple of days went by. Some frantic work on getting the tyre pressures just right and use of the steering damper sorted the worst of the handling foibles, though it never became a bike that was reassuring to ride hard - there was always some minor weave, wobble or wriggle that threatened to go out of control without any warning. But it was a fast old tug, screaming up to 120mph without any hesitation and then slowly trundling up to 140mph (on the clock, doubtless optimistic).
It was inevitable that I'd have a run in with the trio of GT's in my area. Left them for dead, didn't I, they really didn't know what the hell had hit them. Ground clearance was a major limitation on fast cornering and they were probably amused by the spark show I put on, the old barge lurching around on its suspension, threatening to dig into the tarmac at any moment and turn into some kind of wild fairground ride. I got away with murder on the back of not really caring if I wrote the thing off!
True to its generation of strokers, I managed to get an all time high with regards to fuel consumption - 19mpg - during a motorway slog. I can be so exact about it as reserve didn't work and I ran the tank right down. The bike stuttered along the exit lane to the services, requiring only a minimal push to make it to the pumps. My entrance was met by some plonker in a van reversing into my path. As the ignition was off I couldn't warn him with the horn, not that the pathetic squeak would've made much difference. I screamed at the top of my voice... words the 250kg gorilla who staggered out of the van didn't appreciate. For once I was thankful for a loitering cop car. Even if the police looked like they were thinking about booking me for pushing the bike without wearing a helmet.
Another potential hassle with the GT was the way it would boil off the cooling fluid! Flickering idiot lights and a sudden loss of power indicated that all was not well. A cheap and effective cure, when miles from anywhere, was to unleash the old pecker and pee into the radiator, though you need a good few inches and great accuracy to avoid pissing over the whole bike; an act that would have the classic mob sobbing in horror! In the end, I took to carrying both oil and coolant; never knew when I might need them
Compared to aged discs, the substantial drum brakes weren't half bad if laughable by modern standards. No apparent wear in 8000 miles, plenty of feedback for safe stopping on wet roads and I never actually hit anything. I can well remember some idiot in the glossies going on about the then new disc brakes not needing the same kind of attention as drums - what a laugh, give them 12000 miles and all kinds of wear emerge.
The Avon tyres didn't wear too rapidly either, just about needing replacement by the time I sold the bike, having done about 9000 miles in all as they were newish when the GT was acquired. The chain was some stringy affair that stretched alarmingly after a hard run. The sprockets looked okay so a new chain was soon bunged on, lasted about 6000 miles. No doubt an expensive, modern O-ring job would do two or three times that but it would also cost loads more.
The only real running costs were oil, lubricant and fuel. The latter never bettered 40mpg even when I rode so slowly that the spark plugs threatened to oil up. Figure on 30mpg average and you won't be far wrong - the trio on the GT's reckoned they got close to 60mpg, a figure I found hard to believe. Maybe because they had later, more developed (read much slower!) models - it was somewhat ironical that my cheap and tatty GT was actually one of the first year's models and therefore potentially very valuable.
It was this, rather than any great love for the machine, that made me respray the cycle parts in the original golden orange - my son asked me why I was painting the thing the colour of dog shit! Not one to argue with a quick buck, I cuffed him around the ear and made him do penance by polishing up all the alloy and chrome - surprisingly good stuff for an old Jap! A few days work had the old steamer looking like new, well newish.
It took three months to sell. The trio expressed interest but they were already aware of how little I'd paid and not amused when I'd added a zero to that figure! In that time I did quite a few long runs without any real problems, save from those mentioned already. It wasn't that comfortable to ride fast - useless seat and poor riding position - but I was used to old seventies horrors and my body had long adapted to their deficiencies.
The only thing the bike really reacted nastily to was newly laid gravel that was left so loose even the cages were skidding all over the shop. The GT wanted to go two separate ways at the same time, feeling even more top heavy than normal. Only survived by putting both feet down and keeping the speed down to a walking pace. Some lunatic came past at about 90mph, gravel flying ferociously, his Tenere snaking all over the place. My crash hat looked like someone had attacked it with a shotgun!
After the usual time-wasters and some very silly offers I sold the GT for 2200 quid, which was fine by me and just shows how overpriced the bikes are if I can get away with such a cheap and easy renovation. The next game in town's another import, a Kawasaki H1!
James Lewis