Well, after all it was Christmas, and it had been a long time since I had treated myself to anything... and she was lovely. The male menopause had hit me a year ago and I'd returned to biking (if you can call a CB250N Superdream biking) after a break of more years than I will admit to. The problem was, the wife kept wanting to get on the back and two-up on the 250 turned it even more gutless than usual. Terry, at my favourite bike shop in Bedford (Links motorcycles) didn't have to say a word when I saw a nine month old white XJ600 with 4000 miles on the clock - he just wound it up for me and a week later she was mine. That saw a relationship which took me many happy, relatively trouble free miles.
Even though this was a standard model, what immediately impressed me was the meaty sound of the 4-2 and the well balanced feel. It's a slim and tall machine which proved ideal for working through traffic on my journeys to and through London. The seat was comfortable for about 150 miles and the riding position (rather upright) suited my six foot frame.
Everything fell easily to hand, within the first ten minutes I felt as though I'd been riding her for a year. She was also rather deceptive. She looked sweet and innocent but she enjoyed being given what for! Cruising at 80-90mph was a joy, and mad moments (for a 40 year old in the legal profession) brought 120 up without difficulty. Boy, was I happy.
Only two things bothered me. The standard screen was too low and a flip-up had to be bought to make the wind pass just over my helmet. I also felt that first gear was a little too low...I was getting through it rather quickly and top gear sounded rather busy. Back at Links Motorcycles, Terry suggested some re-gearing. A larger front sprocket won't fit but a smaller rear sprocket (38 teeth down from the standard 44) and a shortened chain was just what I wanted.
This gave the lower gears rather more flexibility and it made for more relaxed cruising. Being a Yorkshireman, I also appreciated the improvement in fuel consumption - up from 50 to 60mpg while cruising the A1 at 80mph. Top speed wasn't improved due to the wind resistance and when two-up, fully laden I had to work the gears a little more in order to keep on the pace.
For touring, the overall package was so successful that we invested in a set of Givi panniers and top box. These were an excellent buy. Waterproof in all but torrential rain, but I still put my clothes in bin-liners - just in case. Then encouraged by stories in this mag we decided to try our hand at touring.
Everyone speaks fondly about the warm welcome in France...we found that we got a similar reception in Britain. Trips to the North of England, Derbyshire, Wales and the Cotswolds, often saw the owners of guest houses and hotels offering to lock the bike in their garages...and we never got funny looks as we knackered old shags appeared in our leathers.
Encouraged by this, we decided to get really adventurous by heading for Ireland. It was the A5 all the way to Holyhead (can anyone tell me why the Irish ferry allows a single motorcycle to be accompanied by its owner and two passengers?). The arrangements on the Stenna Sea Link ferry were not very good...only very greasy ropes were available for tying down (first lesson) and you had to do this yourself (more than my job's worth was the general attitude).
But Ireland was very enjoyable. The Guinness is consistent and the people were wonderful. But the weather...it rained solidly for five days and at times it felt like white-water biking. The Givi's stayed dry - everything else which we wore got thoroughly saturated, the FT Aqua-Packs were hopelessly out-gunned and were binned when we got back. My hands were black from the dye which ran out of the gloves.
In all of this the XJ never missed a beat and always fired up first time. I was most impressed but it took me two weeks to get all the crap out of the nooks and crannies around the engine. I was similarly impressed by the warmth of our reception in Ireland. At one stage we were invited into a pub, dripping with water despite three layers of clothing, received a cheery greeting, a hot fire and a free pint!
Our only moments of concern were when we turned a corner and found ourselves in the middle of a cattle drive...those horns on Irish cow looked bloody big and our leathers suddenly felt very thin. Brace yourself, was the message I passed to the wife.
We almost got caught out by the Irish sense of time and distance. We were down in the Cork area and faced a final journey to Rosslare for the ferry back to Fishguard. When we asked a local how long the run to Rosslare might take we were told about an hour. We should have been warned - all journey times in Ireland are variable...two hours later and the ferry was still not in sight. But we made it eventually.
The bike used no oil and returned 60-65mpg. Despite the rain it was a wonderful holiday, so we went back last year...and it was even better in the sunshine. The only drawback to the bike was the chain. Irish rain stripped it of oil on a daily basis. With hindsight, a Scottoiler would've helped but I think I would've preferred a shaft drive.
Back on the mainland I continued to run the XJ on a daily basis, often to work in London. I invested in a set of mercury vacuum gauges and these proved their worth in keeping the carbs synchronised. Routine servicing was no problem to the average DIY mechanic and in two years and 20,000 miles it went into the shop once for the shims on two cylinders. A set of Avons went on the wheels, the previous Metz's having done about 9000 miles when they began to feel a little insecure.
The Avons felt rather better in the wet...I put on an oversize rear tyre. This was a mistake...it felt fatter and gave better grip but I should have gone for a lower profile. The bigger tyre made it very difficult to use the centrestand and it reduced the amount of adjustment which the chain could accommodate before the tyre began to foul the rear mudguard.
The XJ gave me a problem on only one occasion. It'd been standing for a month and when I tried to start it the starter seemed to be spinning quite well but the mill refused to fire. I tried everything, including testing all of the electrical components. To cut a long story short, it turned out to be a flattish battery. There was sufficient power to turn the starter motor but not enough balls left to generate a healthy spark.
For the rest of our two and a half years together the lady behaved well and we had a terrific amount of fun together. We survived a slide around a roundabout when a lady driver decided to effect squatter's rights on all of it. The bike did look a mess down one side but the other part said the right things in front of witnesses - ''I didn't see you, sorry.'' So much for riding on the 100/80 watt front light. Back to the shop for a repair, which took just over a week and she was as good as new.
'A jolly nice multi,' is the way the XJ's described. Not a screaming machine - there are much faster 600's on the market and, I suppose, by comparison the XJ could be regarded as boring. I never found it to be. It had enough power for most occasions, it was economical, caused no hassle...and it provided me with fun and some excitement. The sight of one still turns my head and recalls the good times which I had with mine and, yes, I would have another.
So what happened to mine? On a visit to the BMF Rally I saw a Triumph Trophy triple in British Racing Green and I fell in love all over again but that's another story. I bought the XJ for £2400 and sold it 30 months later for £1950... the best £450 I've ever spent. I'm not sure that the Diversion is quite in the same league.
Steve Beedle
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I travelled a 100 miles on BR to view the XJ600. The owner met me at the station. Took me for a blast out into the countryside, where he reluctantly let me have a short ride. Exhilarating! I checked the logbook against engine and frame numbers. Everything matched. After some haggling the 1991 machine was mine for £2200 in used fifties.
No sooner had I taken over ownership than the clouds opened. Never experienced so much rain. I was thankful that newish Avons were fitted. Didn't have any waterproofs, was soaked through within five miles. Only another 95 miles to go! The XJ growled forward at 70mph without any trouble. The front discs were a bit vague, going from nothing to a howling tyre.
20 miles from I home I left the rain behind me. I dropped down two gears, went mad on the throttle. 130mph. Wow! Stability wasn't bad, just a slight flutter from the front wheel. The half fairing lacked width and height. In the rain it'd helped soak me through. In the 130mph gale the wind whipped around my head. After a few minutes I felt like someone had head-butted me. 90 to 100mph was much more sensible, also removed most of the high frequency vibes. The air screaming through my jeans soon dried them out.
Once home I noticed a big puddle of oil under the engine. The level was under the minimum mark. The sump plug was hanging on by a thread. There was no washer under it, but I found a suitable copper washer, did it up and was forced to do an oil change. Good practice. A few other bolts were loose. I gave the bike a good going over.
The XJ engine series has been around for yonks. The somewhat finicky XJ550 started it all off. In '84 the engine was enlarged and toughened up. The '91 version developed 66hp at 10,000rpm and 36lbft at 9000rpm. That would suggest the motor needed to be revved relentlessly. In reality, there was plenty of torque below 7000rpm and the mill was smooth running. The real power came in between 7 and 10,000 revs, with the engine going dead by the time 11000rpm was reached.
The engine's almost square bore and stroke dimensions (58.5x55.7mm) must've helped in the development of torque. The DOHC four cylinder engine was well able to withstand constant abuse. My bike had only 8000 miles on the clock, so I was pretty sure that it'd run for at least 20,000 miles. Regular maintenance consisted of oil and filter changes. The carbs and valves don't need much attention.
The XJ weighs about 415lbs but feels a bit lighter than that. It's dead easy to chuck through traffic. Once I'd become used to the violence of the front brake, my commuting times became drastically reduced. I felt quickly at home as the riding position was perfectly suited to the human body. None of the contorted horrors of the race replica bikes. The XJ is one of those machines that can be ridden in a mild way or on full throttle insanity.
It was furious fun going to work. I came close to clipping cars a couple of times. They moved so slug-like that I had to re-educate my mind to the velocities attainable on the XJ. I was thankful for the ferocity of the fierce front brake. Given half a chance it'd smoulder the tyre. The horn was just about up to scaring the wits out of erring drivers.
After two weeks the engine started cutting out. I noticed that when I switched on the lights the cutting out became much more intense. A day or two later, the XJ wouldn't start. A flat battery. I put it on the charger for a couple of hours. It still wouldn't turn the starter over. One new battery later I was back in business. Two weeks later the same thing happened, along with blowing bulbs. The rectifier was churning out AC. The breaker turned up a new one for £20. He reckoned it was very rare, said I should check the wiring over. There was a loose wire in one of the connectors. I soldered it in. No more electrical problems.
No sooner had the XJ begun to run well than the front discs began to make ringing noises. The pads were down to the metal, seemed a bit harsh with less than 9000 miles done. I didn't have time to replace them immediately. Rode on the back disc and engine braking for two weeks. When some cage appeared from nowhere I had no option but to use the front brake lever in anger. The forks bounced down on their stops for a moment, then BANG!
There was just time to throw the XJ around the back of the car. Despite the 18 inch wheels it could be a fast steering bike when necessary. The front end was leaping all over the place. Making some loud noises like metal was tearing itself apart. The disc had cracked up, ruptured its carrier. I took the front wheel out to remove what was left of the disc. When I pulled the front wheel free, the forks bounced down on the ground and the bike fell over. It was going to be one of those days. After picking the bike up, putting the wheel back in, I was ready to ride home without a front brake.
The breaker was amazed to see me so soon but was happy enough to hand over a good disc and a couple of sets of pads. He hinted that the bike might've been involved in an accident, so unusual was a disc breaking up. I couldn't see that, not with the way the XJ handled. There were no obvious signs of crash damage, such as grazed levers or cracked indicators. One caliper was found to be partially seized but fixed with new seals and a bit of polishing.
There followed a period of calmness. 6000 miles of trouble free running. I really enjoyed the bike, it was just fast enough to be interesting but not so powerful that it tore through the consumables at a crazy rate. The tyres hardly seemed to wear at all and the O-ring chain needed an adjustment every 1000 miles.
I was disconsolate when, with only 15000 miles on the clock, the camchain started rattling. It was this more than anything that convinced me that the bike had been clocked. Camchains usually lasted at least 30,000 miles. The new camchain was fitted in an afternoon, the tensioner was okay. I was a bit dubious about keeping the bike for any longer but it ran so well that I decided I'd give it one more chance.
The weekend after the camchain job I was hustling around Kent with the frail on the back. I though the rear end was waggling around a lot. The XJ has the usual mono-track suspension. Two-up, the shock often seemed marginal. It was obviously beginning to show its age as I heeled over into the bends. Even mild bumps were knocking the tyre around and the girlfriend was digging me in the ribs with a vindictive fury.
After the weekend, stability returned in solo use. The bike was like a second skin, responding easily to my every whim. I should've paid more attention to the state of the rear suspension - a month later the back end was allowing wobbles even at mediocre town speeds. It was a combination of a shock with no damping, shot swinging arm bearings and worn out shafts in the linkage. I bought some new bearings, the rest from the breakers. It was a tedious way of spending a weekend, battering out corroded in spindles and cursing the lack of grease nipples - there wasn't any grease on any of the shafts.
The silencers were speckled with rust, the frame paint was bubbling and some of the alloy refused to clean up. The plastic and tank still looked like new. The further away from the bike that you got the better it looked. Top speed was still 130mph! Acceleration could still blitz every car on the road and most bikes. 90 to 100mph cruising was as easy as opening up the throttle. There wasn't really any need to kick up the box like a lunatic. But I used to do it for the rush.
During one such excursion I was pulled over. Whilst one cop gave me the usual sanctimonious lecture the other checked the bike on his radio. He came back with a nasty grin. My bike didn't exist according to Swansea! I was obviously a nasty little thief who should be banged up right away.
After a couple of hours of interrogation, with the usual nasty and nice cop, they phoned my father who turned up with the logbook, which was a complete fake. Of course I had no idea where the guy was living and no memory of the phone number, although from the date on the receipt they could've traced it back through the paper. They reluctantly let me go, saying they would have to keep the Yamaha. F..king great!
D.T.
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I know everyone says don't buy an ex-despatch bike. I know that bikes subjected to continuous thrashing in town and total neglect are not the best ones to buy. But I could only stretch to a few hundred notes and wanted the maximum power for my money. Enter a 1987 Yamaha XJ600 with 86000 miles on the clock. It looked a wreck but rattled into life and nearly wrung my neck off when I went for a short test ride.
Crash damage? Sure, sure, but what do you expect for £350. Actually, I expected to ride it the 75 miles home. No chance. 65 miles after purchase of the stuff of dreams it was nightmare time. I hastily had to brake and swing it off the road amid the most awful graunching noise. I hastily switched off the engine. I was horrified to find that the transmission was locked up solid, I couldn't even push it.
A look at the well shagged chain revealed it was a cheapo job with a split link that was eventually, er, split. How long does it take to push 420lbs of XJ ten miles? Don't ask! By the time I arrived at my home I was as wrecked as I feared were the engine internals. Not one of the half dozen or so bikers who'd whizzed past had bothered to stop.
The next day I tried to remove the exhaust to get at the clutch cover. The wicked sounding 4-1 disintegrated into a pile of dust the first time I tapped it with a hammer. Every engine screw featured a mangled head and was impossible to remove even with a borrowed impact driver. It was chisel and hammer time - five screws broke off rather than come undone. I could see the bike and I were going to be great friends.
Resisting the temptation to empty the rusty petrol tankful of petrol over the heap and throw a match at it, I eventually gained access to the clutch. The outer body had disintegrated and liberally splattered its remains around the engine. There was nothing for it but to remove the engine, split the crankcases and clean out the mess. A newish clutch was obtained from a friendly breaker and attached to the newly assembled engine. The primary drive, gears and crank had all looked okay so I reckon I had a lucky escape.
The engine didn't exactly purr into contented life once the motor was reinstalled in the chassis. After about five minutes of useless clattering the battery was dead. Another five minutes with battery power boasted by attachment to a nearby car resulted in a hell of din from the remnants of the 4-1 - who needs a silencer? I did, actually, as there was now a massive lack of power between 2000 and 6000rpm.
There was an old car exhaust system flung in the rafters of the garage. It took only a day's worth of sawing and hammer bashing to put something together. The baffle from a CD175 fitted straight in, everything held together with liberal doses of Araldite. The noise was somewhat subdued but still gave a meaty growl when the throttle was whipped around to the stop. There was a bit of a flat spot between 3000 and 4000rpm but I could ride around or through this for most of the time.
The whole rusty heap of an exhaust was wire brushed down to something resembling virgin metal and given several coats of heat resistant paint. I shouldn't have bothered, a week later it was back to the rusty mess. Riding the bike was impressive to a relative novice like myself. The engine could still power the XJ up to an indicated 100mph. I thought nothing of the accompanying pall of blue smoke, having previously owned a two stroke! Despite nearly worn out tyres, it still felt quite stable, only when I tried to go into corners too rapidly, and had to use the brakes in haste, did the chassis become lively. My muscles began to build under the need for much effort to throw it through the twisties.
Every ride was an adventure. There was always some small problem that required attention. The twin discs had calipers that seized up every week and required patience and understanding to strip down and fix - or a big hammer and a lot of threatening swear words. The brakes worked not very well because I could not afford to replace the down to the metal pads. After 5000 miles it had become a rolling death trap and I had to speak very nicely to the breaker to get another set of nearly dead pads for a fiver.
The electrics were another nightmare waiting to happen. Some time in its murky past some bodger had fitted a Honda regulator/rectifier. The resultant wiring bore no relationship to the wiring diagram in the Haynes which had come with the bike. The battery had developed a need for daily top ups and its plates were turning white. A temporary solution was a cheapo car battery in the top box. This became permanent after I'd fitted a car regulator and rectifier alongside it....a friend for life sorted the wiring for me.
This didn't stop the bulbs blowing. I don't know if it was the electrical side or the vibes which the worn out four cylinder engine produced. Whatever it was, there were times when I didn't make it home before both the main and dip beams expired. The indicators were so unpredictable that I did the only decent thing, tore them off and threw them at next door's dog. Some amusing antics ensued until I got the hang of right-hand signals.
After 2000 hard won miles the swinging arm bearings wore to the extent that the bike could not be safely banked over more than 5 degrees. No sooner had I fixed that than the rear wheel bearings went, a most disconcerting experience when you're bouncing along at 80mph. I was so appalled at the state of the bike by then that I stripped the whole heap right down to the frame, cleaned off the rust, painted it up and reassembled it with an expensive heap of new bearings, bushes and cables. I even filled in the dents in the petrol tank.
Three days later, in a moment of panic I tightly gripped hold of the petrol tank with my knees and felt something give. Having almost stood the bike on its head in the need to avoid colliding with a car, I was astonished to find that the petrol tank had collapsed inwards. It had rusted from the inside out, leaving bike and I covered with petrol. It would have taken just a spark to ignite the two of us into a raging conflagration. It was very embarrassing to push the bike home in that state.
Yet another visit to a breaker procured both a tank, a 4-1 exhaust system and a nearly new set of Roadrunners. The expense was mounting and the enjoyment of riding the bike diminishing. There comes a point when it doesn't seem worth spending more on a bike that you know in the end is going to suffer some mechanical carnage due to its high mileage. However, having spent all my money on it I didn't have any left to buy something in better nick.
The next 6000 miles were trouble free, much to my surprise, and included a 2000 mile run around the UK. Then the engine started smoking heavily even at tickover. It was either the bores or the valves.....actually both! I managed to lap the valves in myself, get away with fitting a new set of rings and honing the bores. It still smoked when thrashed and wouldn't go much above the ton, but I could live with that.
I developed the ambition to get it past the 100,000 mile mark, at that point there was 3500 miles to go. The bike didn't want to make it, though. The gearbox began to slip out of gears. Whenever I tried to act like a flash git with a smart take-off in town the bike left me looking like a fool. In the end, the only gears I could rely upon were second and fourth. The former made take-offs a clutch slipping horror story whilst the latter meant the engine was screamed along at the redline to keep up with the motorway slow lane.
With 98000 miles on the clock the engine sounded like someone had filled a washing machine with the nails. You couldn't hear the exhaust for the mechanical mayhem! There was no way I could sell the bike in that state, so I just ignored the noise and rode it into the ground. At 99,238 miles the motor seized solid in the middle of the traffic in town.
If you think that's the end of the story you couldn't be more wrong. A credulous bank manager advanced me the funds to buy a 3000 mile XJ engine out of a crashed bike and it's now gone around the clock. Once, I'm hanging on to it until it does it again!
Peter Berisford
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Good days are to be treasured and repeated as often as possible. A year ago images of my biking youth kept flashing through my mind. Sun and speed filled days, though I never did find any enthusiastic female pillions. The motorcycle press was consulted but the replicas held no appeal. The local dealer was approached. He had just what I needed - at least according to him. For two thousand notes a five year old, 9000 mile XJ600 could be all mine. Shone very nicely it did, too. A test ride revealed sublime acceleration - I don't wanna die yet, how do you slow this thing down? The adrenaline kick loosened my cheque book from my pocket and a week later I was on the road. All nice and legal, not like in days of yore.
The four cylinder motor was rather different to the Triumph and BSA twins of my youth. Smooth and sophisticated, but also extremely fast revving with a distinctive power kick at seven grand. My first few forays convinced me that I was moments off dying. Everything flew at me at a momentous pace, testing my reactions to the limit. Compared to the stodgy cage, it was like finding myself aboard a jet-fighter. Long rusted reflexes returned in a remarkably short time, though the gearchange and back brake levers were the wrong way around. The machine was remarkably nimble for a four, its suspension oozed comfort without leaving me remote from the tarmac.
I was pretty high after my first week's riding. Intruding upon my state of contentment, a slight engine misfire. Burping to itself around the 4000rpm mark. I could accelerate through it but holding a constant cruising speed in the 4000-5000rpm range was problematic. Leaving the machine for half a day at the dealers for testing, the mechanic told me there was nothing wrong with it. Rain intensified the stuttering but spraying WD40 at it didn't help.
A week later the stutters took over the whole of the engine except for below 3000 revs. The dealer argued that I was imagining it! Legal threats had no effect. By the time I reached home the bike had turned into a dangerous liability. Befitting its relatively modern engineering it's a complex beast that I didn't have a clue about fettling. I knew it was either the carburation or ignition, the latter electronic and the former four tightly packed, mostly inaccessible, carb's.
A dealer on the other side of Luton was visited. He told me some nasty tales about the people I'd purchased the bike off. His diagnosis was paint particles clogging up the tank's fuel filter. A result of the bike being resprayed. Confirmed when the tank was removed. A simple enough job to fix, but I was warned that the machine might be clocked or crashed, even clocked and crashed. The dealer conceded that the motor sounded okay and that the frame was straight, no imminent signs of disaster.
With the fuel free to flow again the XJ600 was transformed into a fast flowing missile that would take every cage in the land. Against the race replicas it didn't have much hope. A Honda CBR600 wailed past at about twice my velocity, itself 25mph over the motorway limit. I wound the Yamaha open, got down behind the usefully sized half-fairing. Top speed was 125mph but beyond 115mph the dominance of the secondary vibes over every other sensation indicated I was pushing the engine's internals to their limit. 100mph was a pleasant cruising speed with a little acceleration still left in hand.
This is to give a false impression of myself as a highway hoodlum. Most of the time I was contented with a maximum velocity of 90mph, usually exhibited along the faster stretches of A-road where the XJ felt perfectly at home. No expert in these matters, admittedly, I found the handling and road holding close to brilliant. If I entered a bend too rapidly all I had to do was shove the throttle shut, tightening the line through the curve and evincing not the merest murmur of complaint from the back end. Doing that on an old Bonnie would have the swinging arm trying to shake itself free of the barely adequate frame. Refined is the best way of describing the Yam's chassis.
Of the disc brakes - two out front and one to the rear - I'm not sure. Of power there was plenty, an excess compared to the old TLS drum brakes of my day. So strong was the front brake that an ill-considered squeeze of the lever would have the forks not merely bouncing on their stops but actually twisting. The front tyre squealed in protest until I averted being thrown over the bars by hastily releasing pressure on the lever. In most circumstances a single digit was all that was needed to bring us to a stop. The rear disc lacked any kind of feedback, led to some momentous slides in the wet. Lacking entirely was the useful engine braking of an old British twin.
About a month down the line the front pads started squeaking. Pads down to the metal, calipers beginning to seize up and (and!) an hairline crack in one of the discs where it attached to the hub. The dealer (the second one) reckoned the latter probably down to a front end smash and pointed out marks on the forks where they had been straightened. I thought of them breaking up at a 125mph! He assured me they would have gone by now if they were going to go. Better calipers and discs were secured from a breaker at a third of the cost of new stuff.
I was beginning to learn the ins and outs of modern Japanese engineering, aided and abetted by a workshop manual and the helpful dealer. Evident that they were fine as long as they were left well alone but the deeper you went into their engineering the more potential for expensive calamity was found. Swings and roundabouts - whilst an old Brit could be repaired by the roadside with nothing more than a large hammer and pair of mole-grips, they needed much more frequent attention than the Japanese stuff that almost required a trained servant to keep it in order when it went wrong.
Whilst riding through the summer was undoubtedly great fun, a real learning experience as well as some exhilarating times, the onset of winter made me think twice about my new vocation. Not at all helped by the disgusting way the XJ was rotting away. No doubt its cheap paint job didn't help, with great areas of the chassis turning to rust, but deeper than that, the poor quality of the Japanese aluminium alloy was shown up by the dreaded white fur.
Filled with many doubts about its basic safely and security, I didn't ride it too hard nor too far over the treacherous road conditions. It had sparked my interest in motorcycling, though, and the XJ was traded in to the second dealer in exchange for a newish Yamaha 600 Diversion, which he promised was a genuine one-owner, never been crashed nor ridden in the wet, low miler. It's a nice bit of magic in which I have great faith.
Don't let this rambling put you off the XJ600, I just had the bad luck to buy the bike from the Mr Nasty of motorcycle dealers. That it still held together well, and gave much pleasure after some serious abuse, shows that there's a lot of life left in the older series of Yamaha fours. Search around for a good deal and be suspicious of ones that look too good to be true - because they probably are!
W.S.