The GS has had a chronic problem. However much care has been taken with adjustment, oil changes, throttle abuse, etc, the left-hand exhaust valve insisted on burning out every 9000 to 10,000 miles. After owning the bike for 85000 miles this was no great problem because I knew when it was going to happen. The right-hand valve didn't look too good either, so the pair were replaced. It made no difference if the bike was run on open pipes or a new stock system.
Other engine work has been limited to replacing the camchain and tensioner once and the clutch plates twice. The engine is still on the original bores and pistons, probably down to my frequent, 750 mile, oil changes. Its previous ability to run past the ton with ease has, admittedly, disappeared; these days it will do no more than a flat out 93mph....I feel sure that a rebore and new pistons would bring back the performance to its previous levels.
Similarly, oil consumption has increased to around 250 miles per pint and fuel consumption gone west to around 42mpg (previously, it was about 55mpg). Its appetite for consumables has stayed constant - chains in 8500 miles, rear Roadrunners in 7000 miles and fronts in 12000 miles, whilst pads in the single front disc have only lasted 5000 miles a set and rear drum shoes about 12000 miles.
A word about that front disc. Unlike many old discs it's still a good stopper, works okay in the wet and has not yet seized up, although Copaslip and a strip down every other pad change has doubtless helped. The rear drum caused massive concern when the alloy hub started cracking up with 42000 miles on the clock. Riding the ten miles home was really frightening but the bike made it. Finding a suitable replacement from breakers was hard going and the bike was off the road for four weeks until I located one in Glasgow.
The rear shocks, the usual Jap rubbish after 5000 miles of abuse, were replaced with a set of Girlings which only lasted 12000 miles before depositing their damping oil over the swinging arm. The Konis that were then bunged on are still there but after 75000 miles were on the clock they have become increasingly dodgy, turning into vicious pogo sticks over bumpy going. The cost of replacements is more than the bike is worth, so for the moment I shall just have to persevere.
The front forks are original but have been rebushed a couple of times, had stronger springs fitted and the usual thicker damping oil.....however, even a fork brace hasn't stopped the front end becoming very twitchy. Taking a hand off the bars produced an oscillating handlebar......as the indicators have long since been chucked this makes for interesting turning and I have long since given up waving to fellow bikers; a regal nod of the head suffices. It became so bad that I fitted a secondhand steering damper which worked after a fashion, although the effort needed to turn the bars when filtering through traffic is a bit disconcerting.
I am happy to report that although I have fallen off a few times, the frame has avoided any damage. The paint did start to fall off at 26000 miles and had become so bad by 30,000 miles that I had it powder coated....which started falling off at 54000 miles. The second job was done in my garage with an electric spray gun. That one has lasted well, because, having gone to the length of tearing the bike apart, I put on about ten coats of paint.
The petrol tank is not original, the machine is on its third. After about 30,000 miles they rust on the inside, clogging up the petrol filter, causing the machine to cease running. The first time this caught up with me it happened miles from civilisation and I did not realise what had occurred. The RAC eventually came to my rescue, but only after I had pushed the machine about 15 miles to a telephone box. The engine doesn't like unleaded at all, it spits and coughs at low revs, only doing 35mpg and 85mph.
Exhausts are a laugh a minute, they seem to rust as soon as they are put on the bike. Luckily, the engine runs with just about anything vaguely resembling a silencer bolted on to the proudly rusted original downpipes. At one time I fitted a set of sixties Bonnie pipes which made a glorious racket, although it didn't sound like a Brit as the note is off beat, down to pistons moving up and down alternatively. There is a gear driven balancer which takes out most of the vibes when new, although over the years it has gradually become a bit rougher.
Vibration has caused a few things to fall off, or it may just have been old age and fatigue. Losing the whole numberplate assembly did not amuse the local porkie but I talked my way out of it, promising to push the machine home, until he turned the corner and I hit the starter button. It was rather more obvious when one of the silencers fell off. This did affect carburation, the whole machine quaked like some ancient tank - pedestrians craned their necks searching for the beginning of world war three whilst I tried to look innocent.
Whether it was vibration or just shoddy design I don't know, but I was not amused at 45000 miles when the battery went dead about 150 miles from home. I bought a new battery and disconnected the charging side of the electrical circuit. The rectifier/regulator unit had fried itself, a Superdream item went in fairly easily - a common cure for Suzuki electrical problems - and no further electrical hassles were encountered.
The front light was the usual dismal item but a QH car unit fitted straight it after a few gentle taps with the hammer, transforming night riding. The left-hand switch cluster fell apart but a similar set of switches from a newish GS450 solved that. Rear brake light switches only last about 5000 miles, I've tried various types from different machines to little avail - it's either the vibes or all the water that comes off the back wheel.
I bought the bike new and have stuck with it for more than 15 years. It has all the performance I want and is easy to fix when it goes wrong. Apart from the exhaust valves, it has been fantastically reliable. I am still happy to plan long trips aboard the machine because I know it will get there and back.
At first, I wasn't too happy with the riding position, you're perched atop the machine rather than being part of the bike, but after all these years I have become used to it. It's psychological really, fitment of a taller tank would transform the feel of the machine - it has a low centre of gravity and low seat height. This makes it very flickable through the curves and yet reasonably stable in a straight line, as long as the suspension is in good condition. Braking when banked over is not much fun as it tries to flick the bike up, but backing off the throttle is perfectly safe.
I have not experienced the vicious speed wobbles that some machines produce, its low speed twitchiness is not apparent at high speed as long as you keep both hands on the bars. It doesn't like worn out tyres at all, then the handling becomes a bit evil. Hitting white lines sends tremors through the whole chassis and the front wheel has a tendency to walk away from under you if it's down to the carcass.
Another consumable that causes havoc when it's worn out is the chain. I've yet to have one jump off but a loose transmission mucks up the gearchange, which even at the best of times is not very precise. It had an excellent gearchange from new but false neutrals have gradually intruded and its action has stiffened up considerably - wearing anything less that full bore motorcycle boots is asking for trouble. The clutch action is light and there is none of the dreadful drag that many old Japanese motorcycles exhibit.
The obvious replacement is the Suzuki GS500E but I don't like its excess of disc brakes, styling or mono-shock back end, so that knocks that one out. The other option is the GS450 but I have heard disturbing reports about that machine's durability. The 400 doesn't look too bad, still runs well and we've grown into each other. I think I'll just spend a bit of money on a rebore, see if I can keep her running for a few more years.
P.K.L
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The secondhand motorcycle market is a mess. One day I'd go to see a bike that looked and ran like a dog but cost thousands. The next I'd phone up only to find that a similar bike was already sold for a third of the price. Going into dealers was even more traumatising. They would try to persuade me to sign up at exorbitant finance rates for high mileage bikes. There weren't many dealers left, they kept going out of business. Strange times, indeed.
I kept going to look at bikes, reckoning that eventually I would have to get lucky. It took seven months until I found a worthwhile machine. One owner, low mileage, immaculate condition? No, no, no! The GS400 was in one piece, the consumables were newish, the engine rattle free and there was 28000 miles on the clock. After all the hassle, false hopes and wasted days, I was quite happy to hand over £375 and ride off into the sunset.
Happy days. Back in the saddle of a motorcycle after over ten years entombed in various company cars. Oh yes, I was happy tearing down the country lanes the 20 miles to my home. Even if the front lamp had a vague spread of light that might've impressed a pushbike owner but I had to squint and test the ease of steering when the road suddenly swerved in an unforeseen direction. No problem for the easy turning GS.
More worrying was hitting the odd patch of leaves when the front tyre would slide without any warning. I felt my old reflexes returning fast, that curious mixture of adrenalin, power and fear coursing through my brain. It's surprising how fast all the reactions come back. Apart from the remoteness of the Dunlop tyres, the lightweight twin, as compact and mild as most 250s, was a very pleasant introduction back into the joys of motorcycling.
For some reason, back home in one piece, my whole body was shaking slightly. Perhaps it was touching the ton on one well known long straight. The roar of the passing air and the bark of exhaust lingered in my mind. The engine was on the lower limits of its oil and sounded discordant ticking over, the 180 degree throw of the crankshaft not aiding a smooth tick-over.
The next day the oil came out rather murky but the valves were still within adjustment and the carbs didn't benefit from my attempt at balancing them. The camchain tensioner was automatic and the ignition electronic; two fewer things to play with. Removing 2psi from the front tyre and tweaking the chain adjusters were the only other chores I could find. Given the low price I felt pretty pleased with myself.
A few days later I rode into work, shocking my colleagues by turning up in an ancient leather jacket and an unlikely open face helmet. They were further astonished to hear I'd cut the normal 90 minute trawl into work to about 20 minutes (15 if I was willing to really work at it). The only surprise I felt was that I'd been willing to spend the last ten years sitting in traffic jams for hours at a time.
That was the trouble, once I was back on two wheels I didn't want to set foot in a car again. What an ingenious way of getting around! It was pretty obvious that with the summer fading I'd have to buy some serious motorcycle gear. When the rain fell I was quickly soaked through, even the GS stuttered occasionally as water was thrown past the front guard.
I'd noticed one bike in the car park with a huge Rickman fairing. When I saw one advertised on a postcard in the local accessory store I went for a gander. It was a refugee from some old fifties Brit, but was only £25 with an assortment of brackets. The guy was very keen to lend a hand and agreed to help me fit it there and then in his garage. Just as well he did as he had to get his welding gear out.
I thought I'd made a big mistake after the first ride. The light, precise steering was replaced with heaviness and vagueness, the bike wandering all over the shop. The fork springs were fully compressed, ensuring that every road bump was fed straight into my arms, heightening the impression of impending doom. The GRP was very thick and the brackets massive, so there must've been an extra hundred pounds over the front wheel.
After a few days of trying to master the madness I decided to take the fairing off. By then the fork seals had blown! I let the local back street bodger put new ones in. The last time I'd tried to take some forks apart I'd nearly lost an eye when a spring had popped out at a 100mph. I might be getting forgetful in my old age but some memories refuse to fade away. I paid out for some progressive springs as well, but didn't fancy testing them against the weight of the fairing. It wasn't the end of the world, I later sold the GRP for £60.
The rebuilt forks improved the front end further, the refined tautness giving a better idea of what was happening to the rubber. Just as well with the autumn rains turning the road surface very greasy. The tyres would slide a little but the GS remained controllable. I preferred a touch of the rear drum to the front disc when mild braking was needed. The calipers were good, not seizing up, whilst pad wear was too moderate to note.
With the skies opening most days, I went for heavy duty nylon jacket and pants. For the commute they were more than adequate at keeping the water out. They had less sartorial elegance than the legions of tramps camping out in town, but were quickly slipped off on arrival at work. At a pinch, I could've worn a suit underneath.
The GS liked to be sprayed with WD40 twice a week, on the switches, coils, HT leads and plugs. Other than that, starting was as easy and reliable as a modern car, the engine quickly settling down to an even tickover. Performance would kill hot GTi's (at least in town) and I could sneak through small gaps in traffic at speed, which left them wallowing, confused, in my wake.
The odd reprobate who roared out of driveways or across junctions without realising I was there, was summarily dealt with by heavy use of the front disc and, when necessary, quick action on the bars. The first few close encounters with death left me all shook up, wondering if I'd made a big mistake in coming back to biking. After a while I became used to the crazy antics of the cages and surprised when a day went by without some kind of incident.
The GS ran right through the winter and spring without any real problems. I was a bit disappointed with fuel economy at 60mpg and the frequent need to change the oil to keep the gearchange slick. A 100 mile ride would also burn off a lot of lubricant, a constant eye had to be kept on the oil level. Impressed with the amount of fun I was having, despite frozen extremities, I decided to test ride some new bikes.
Nothing too extreme. A Honda CB500, Kawasaki GPZ500 and Suzuki GS500E. The latter was especially disappointing because it seemed no faster and was too quick steering for my taste. The GPZ ran poorly until 7500rpm when it screamed off up the road with a rush of power that almost caused a nose bleed. But it felt too disgruntled in town to be of any use to me. The CB500 was more rounded but not impressive enough to make me want to part with three grand (if the GS was taken in part exchange). It didn't seem worth the expense to trade the Suzuki in for a bike that would immediately lose a third of its value.
Instead I treated the GS to a respray of its cycle parts, a pair of pattern silencers and a new airfilter. I would've been happy to pay out some money on the motor but it didn't need it with 37000 miles done. The most likely area of concern's the exhaust valves which can burn out or sink into the head. The engine quite happily revs to ten grand, continued thrashing leading to much shortened life.
I'd found this out by viewing a couple of non-runners, hoping to pick up a cheap source of spares. It was the same old story, silly money demanded for dreadful dogs with few useful parts left. One clown wanted five hundred quid, whining that all I had to do was put the top half back on! I offered him fifty quid and was lucky to get out without being thumped. Maybe the GS is set to become a classic bike!
The clock's now reading 44000 miles, with a very light haze of burnt oil following us around. I did manage to buy a seized engine for £25 so have some parts ready, including a rebuilt, polished cylinder head. The GS400's a very neat package, one of the great unsung heroes of the seventies.
Jeremy Pointer