At first I thought it was just another XJ550, but a very well cared for example. All nice and shiny in grey without any rust, even on the quick decay exhaust. But when I copped the sidepanel I was confused. XJ400 it proudly announced. My puzzlement was solved by the owner turning up. Gave me a nasty look, at first, until he figured I was harmless enough - just looking at the bike, not wanting to nick it. He explained it was a grey import that he'd owned for six months and as it happened he wanted to trade it for a new 900 Divvie. Did I want to top the dealer's offer of £1750?
After a spin around the block and an intimate examination of the machine I offered to match the trade-in price, telling him to look up MCN because he'd find some deep discounts for cash. When I said we could hit the bank that very day, the deal was swung in my favour and within a few hours I was clutching the registration document and beaming proudly at my new mount.
He even threw it some literature on the bike - 385lbs, 45 horses, six gears and a 30 inch seat height were the pertinent points. The bike felt more like a 250 twin in dimensions that a big, bad four. Handling was a bit nervous at the front, down to the nineteen inch wheel sporting some crap Jap tyre that was almost illegal - even on dry roads, application of the powerful twin discs had the front end sliding away.
First stop the breakers, who had a set of used, old style Avon Roadrunners - twenty quid fitted to loose wheels. This was a 1981 machine (bought in 1994) with only 7800 miles on the clock, so the Jap tyres were probably original fare. Explaining the seized in wheel spindles.
Of course, I didn't have a hammer on me, unlike a mate who always whacks cars with one when he's feeling bored. All the breaker could offer was a bloody great lump hammer that I could barely lift. A gentle tap on the front spindle caused the bike to fall over into a pile of dog shit that smelt like the mutt was fed on rat curry. The breaker's laughter did nothing to hide my embarrassment, going bright red in the face, an old school habit. The breaker did the deed in the end, but ruined both of the spindle's threads. Of course he just happened to have a pristine set off an XJ550 I could have for a tenner. Bastard.
With the new tyres fitted, handling was still a bit queasy, following white-lines and going all loose over cat's eyes, and the like. There was plenty of ground clearance as the exhaust was well tucked in and the suspension so stiff I never managed to get it to hit the stops even when the bike was massively overloaded. As it was originally made for tiny Jap's chances are the previous owner, a 20 stone lout, had upgraded it.
After a couple of weeks I'd concluded that the stiff suspension was giving so much feedback that I was overreacting. The bike went where I pointed it, didn't go all nasty in the curves and refused to wallow or weave even when I pushed the engine to as much as twelve grand. On the speedo, top speed was 120mph, but given the power output, 110 to 115mph was much more realistic.
Where the XJ series in general is known for its grunt, the smaller 400 was much more all or nothing. Below seven grand there wasn't much happening, above that it started to flow hard until about eleven grand when it began to lose its momentum. Its happiest spot was around the eight grand mark, where it settled down to an ultra smooth ride with plenty of power in hand to scream off up the road when the occasion arose.
For some peculiar reason, economy was always exceptional - at worst, 60mpg, at best as much as 75mpg. Usually in the 65 to 70mpg range. Combine that with a three and a half gallon tank to get a range of around 200 miles before reserve was needed.
That's pretty practical, though not really matched by the comfort of the machine. The stout previous owner had induced massive seat sag so that I ended up kissing the base after only 30 miles or so. Not helped any by the pegs being mounted a bit too far forward and the bars three inches too high to favour higher speed work - the result, an inordinate amount of weight was transferred to the bike through my poor old bum.
The cheap solution was a couple of pullovers placed under my backside, although this meant I tended to slip around all over the shop and was a definite no-no when it rained. Over the winter months, when I had no inclination to ride the bike, I had the seat re-upholstered and recovered. The result was then good for a 100 miles, or so, but the aforementioned limits of the riding position meant higher mileages were a literal pain.
This was okay as I rarely used the bike for touring, and the riding position otherwise gave great control in town and down my favourite back roads.
One reason why I didn't ride the bike in winter (but not the main one, I just hate freezing near to death), was that a mixture of sub zero temperatures and rain sent the motor all flatulent, with one or two cylinders going down. Strangely, it didn't object to the heaviest of downpours in the summer or the odd frozen outing in the dry, it was only when those two factors were combined that it had a fit of the stutters. It was a good enough excuse to lock the bike away until spring. My guess, for what it's worth, is that the cold changed the coil's resistance and rain caused some of its voltage to leak away, the combination of not putting out enough power and losing some of it in transmission meaning there was insufficient for the sparks to work for some of the time.
Oddly, over two years of riding did little damage to the overall finish of the bike - are they made to a higher quality for the Jap market? - although the front discs did the usual trick of gumming up. Unlike some I could mention (ask any Superdream owner, for instance...), they could be stripped down without resorting to a hammer and cleaned up with little effort. A twice yearly chore. To compensate, with 26000 miles on the clock, the pads are still original, but then my braking's moderate as there's bags of engine braking.
The exhaust is just beginning to show signs of rust on the downpipes and the baffles rattle away merrily. Incidentally, it's a nice sounding machine, with a hard growl as the revs come in and a high class mechanical whine. Helped by 2000 mile maintenance sessions - the usual stuff, oil, carbs and valves. Don't neglect them as they do go out if the revs are used hard all the time, something of a necessity if you want to move at a decent clip.
And it is a bit of a mover. With some audacious but nevertheless safe handling, it can be thrown around the curvy stuff fast enough to give modern middleweights (GS500, GPZ500, XJ600N, etc) the jitters and rules the road with regards to older 400's (XS400, CB400N, GS400, etc). I think it's a well put together bike that makes for the perfect all-rounder.
Balance is the key. It reminds me of a newish Honda CB400 four in that respect. The Honda had a better riding position but was a bit of a slug compared to the Yamaha; ease of handling and riding was about comparable. I went off the Honda when it blew its pistons at 19000 miles, whereas everything I've come across about the XJ400 indicates it's a tough old thing.
Prices vary according to condition, from about £750 for a doggy but running example up to two thousand notes for a low mileage, really immaculate bike. £1500 should buy a really nice one, which has to be a bargain.
Harold O'Donnell
****************************************************
The dealer had no less than three Yamaha XJ400 Specials. All in nice enough shape despite being 15 years old. He was an old chap who'd seen it all before and reckoned that at £995 a throw they were pretty good bargains. I found it hard to disagree with him, was spoilt for choice. Mileage ranged from 12000 to 16,500, but the higher mileage example was in the best nick. Positively shone with good care. After listening to the engine whirr away for a few minutes and a quick blast on the back, I decided that this was the machine for me. Didn't even bother to haggle, just handed over the money there and then.
What I had was a 400cc version of the UK's much maligned XJ550 four, placed into a mildly custom chassis and hopefully given a nice life by a few laid back dudes who only wanted to pose rather than use the engine hard. That motor was lovely and smooth if not particularly powerful. A mere 42hp at 10,000 revs, with torque peaking out at 8000rpm. What that meant on the road was that the revs needed to be kept over the 6000rpm mark, preferably 7500rpm. I had the thing whirring away at 12000 revs in the first few gears.
Much use of the six speed gearbox was needed to keep up the pace on the open road. By pace I mean speed in the sense of 75 to 85mph cruising. I certainly didn't want to go any faster - not with the high bars some joker reckoned the business back in the eighties. Wannabe Hell's Angels have a lot to answer for.
If I was willing to get my head down between the clocks, then top speed was an indicated 105mph. This wasn't a speed that could be entertained for any length of time - like two seconds was enough for me before I suffered spinal deformations that would have the NHS puzzled. If you've got long legs and short arms then you end up with painful knees and stretched arms - it must be one of the worst laid out bikes in the world for spirited riding. This is obvious from looking at it!
In town it's a different ball game. Mainly because of the saddle being deep and comfortable, lush perhaps being the best description. It certainly did me no harm running from one side of London to the other a couple of times a day.
Luckily, the gearbox was relatively smooth and sophisticated, allowing me to hammer the Yamaha through town. Necessary for good acceleration, had to keep ahead of the berserk cagers, didn't I? The only sore point was when the oil got a bit too warm, then neutral became very elusive, both at a standstill and when trying to find it whilst the bike was still rock and rolling. The clutch, however, was light and could take any amount of abuse, so it was more a minor irritation to have to hold it in gear than a major annoyance.
Another potential nasty in town, and elsewhere for that matter, was that the seat was so low it made seeing what was going down ahead rather difficult to suss. In contrast, the pillion was stuck a good foot higher than the pilot, getting both a harsh breeze in the face and a good eyeful of potential trouble. Reduced many a proper motorcyclist to a nervous wreck, or perhaps it was just the way I rode. Even hard-cases often staggered off muttering obscenities.
Yes, that's one thing about Japanese customs. People go out of their way to throw abuse at the rider. Don't know why, really, they don't look that bad and give zero hassle in everyday riding. I've friends on race replicas who look on in envy because of the high level of comfort during legal speed riding. At least I think the green looks and cries of agony have something to do with envy.
Of course, it being only a 400cc custom means I like to take the piss out of bigger bikes. Got nothing to lose, if they win it's obviously down to their obscene levels of power, ain't it? My favourite line of attack are those obese Harleys, ridden by good old boys who act like they would dearly love to bite my head off. They have loads more grunt but daren't use too much of it because of the way their hogs handle, whereas I just merrily scrape off the undercarriage, bounce the 400lb machine every which way. It's way cool to see them off!
On one occasion some monster caught up with me at a junction, came alongside on a huge Electraglide and went to kick out at me. I'd seen him coming, sort of guessed what was going to go down. I flipped the throttle and dropped the clutch just in time. Because I wasn't where he expected, his momentum threw him sideways, the Harley hammering down on top of him. His psychopathic rage evident from the earth-shattering scream that was heard over the dying rumble of the HD and the merry scream of the Yamaha. Laugh? I nearly fell off with the mixture of knowledge of what he'd do to me if he ever caught up with me and from the fact that I was paying more attention to the mirrors than what was in front of me.
One reason I felt free to run around at max revs in the first few gears was that the engine gave every impression of being unburstable. Most of its design was shared with the XJ550/600 series, the latter thought generally tough if not outright powerful. My guess, based on the way the 400's engine whirred away so very smoothly and relentlessly, was that the design originated in the smaller four and was adapted for its larger, poorer running siblings.
Throw in the fact that the bike could only be thrashed at lower speeds, as both the handling and riding position precluded high speed kicks, and perhaps it's clear why these bikes can be such good buys in the grey import scene. I caned the motor for 19000 miles with nothing more onerous than 3000 mile oil changes. Didn't touch the carbs or the valves, and judging by the way it always fired up straight off and didn't vibrate at all, there wasn't any need for such silly indulgences.
There were some problems with chassis rot. Simply, it didn't like British winters. The whole exhaust system was reduced to a rusty mess, alloy rot ruled and paint began to flake off the frame. Oddly, the holed silencers had no effect on carburation, neither did fitting a couple of universal cans. Fuel remained, pretty much regardless of how I abused the bike or the state of the exhaust, at 55 to 60mpg. So impressed was I with the bike's engine that I went to the bother of doing a respray in candy red and bead-blasting most of the alloy. Looked very nice, too.
All that was in vain, some eighteen months down the line, when I had an accident. I was sauntering through Kensington with my usual nonchalance, when this big brown van flew out of a side road. No problem, thinks I, slam on the anchors and let him go. The moron decided to turn into the traffic rather than go with the flow, totally ignoring the fact that he'd have to ride over me to get away with it!
The result of that was one flattened front end and yours truly left a gibbering, screaming wreck with a bruised and scalded leg where the bike had finally landed on it. Damage was restricted to a totally written off front end, if you ignored the ruined paint and dented silencers. The driver of the van was some serious jerk-off who didn't seem to know anything about the concept of insurance and gave me a smack in the mouth when I suggested that I would sue him!
As the front end was the weakest part of the XJ, both in its springing and single disc (a veritable devil in the wet), it was no great loss and a trek around the breakers provided XJ900 stuff of much superior providence. But I'd reached that point in the relationship with the bike when it had little more to offer, and, unfairly, after letting me down in the accident I'd had enough of it.
Down to the same dealer to see what he had. He reckoned I was ready for a Vee-Max and as he was going to give me a grand off the price for the 400 I could hardly argue. Don't buy or test ride a Vee-Max unless you're serious about them because once the wild acceleration's experienced you won't be able to go back to sensible tackle like the XJ400. Oh God, what have I done? Oh well, better enjoy it while I can!
Eddie White