At first I thought it was a dressed up XJ1100, then reality hit me. I could actually swing a leg over the bike and get both feet on the floor without feeling like I was spread-eagled on an elephant. My memory worked overtime, gotta be the 400 grey import. Just then, its owner confirmed this after shouting at me for sitting on his motorcycle without permission. He named a grey importer, said there was another for sale just like it.
That was how I ended up paying £3500 for a 1995 example, absolutely immaculate throughout. Except I didn't like the way the dealer grinned at his mechanic when he said never touched by human hand, mate. Still, what could go wrong with a 2000 mile XJR400R?
Even though it's nowhere near as large as the 1100 it still feels like a big bike. With a 56.5 inch wheelbase and 400lbs of dry mass Yamaha certainly didn't go out of their way to make the bike small and compact. Neither is engine width much better than some 550's I've owned. The modern/retro styling is where the XJR really shines, the lines are perfect, giving it both a classic and brawny appearance. Looks like 150mph standing still.
It doesn't live up to that. The 399cc engine churns out 53 horses at 11000 revs, needs loadsa action on the gearbox to keep the speed up and never really winds up in a way that snaps heads off necks. I was initially a bit disappointed with the engine but the feeling of stability and safety invoked by the chassis made up for that. It was one of those bikes that felt like nothing could knock it off course, wasn't upset by bumps, white-lines or even the odd stray animal.
It was, I suppose, a bit of a weird mixture. An engine that only got anywhere fast when screamed to the red-line and a chassis that revelled in conservative steering. The chassis was wholly orthodox in its tubular steel trellis and twin rear shocks. I weigh next to nowt and always ride solo, so the springing was fine by me but I could imagine that a couple of twenty stone bikers would get them down on their stops. Over vicious potholes, even with me aboard, they would bottom out, but it didn't worry the chassis none.
As long as you like a bit of throttle madness, the XJR's dead easy to leap on to and ride for the first time. 3000 miles were eaten up in the blink of an eye. Then I had some starting problems. It began to take a good five minutes before screaming into life, then it would run very poorly. Carbs out of balance, reckoned Mr. Importer. I could have a full engine service for £80. Do it!
I picked the bike up, it ran brilliantly once again. Next morning it didn't want to start. Phoned Mr Importer. He didn't have a clue. Had they changed the plugs? Didn't need it at that mileage, did it? One new set of plugs later all was fine and dandy.
I soon found out that it was best to change the plugs and balance the carbs every 3000 miles. Ignore that, it would either run poorly or prove difficult to start. Or both. Another dealer was willing to change the plugs and balance the carbs for £40, which I thought reasonable enough if tiresome. The valves were checked at the same time but never needed attention.
Throughout the summer, I could not keep off the machine. It was also the most comfy perch I'd ever had on a motorcycle, fitted me even better than the love of my life (no, not a Ducati, my girlfriend, who hated bikes), did loads of miles and ventured all over Europe and the UK. We were splendid companions until disaster struck.
At 14,300 miles I turned up at the dealers to collect the bike, only to find the mechanic looking rather embarrassed. One of the spark plugs had stripped its thread. Naff alloy, these Jap engines, I wouldn't mind paying £150 for them to take the head off to helicoil it, would I? A long argument ensued, I blaming them for stripping the thread. As it was hot and sunny, I reluctantly agreed to pay £100 against the cost. Two days later the bike was ready.
I know Japanese engines don't like to be disturbed, but I was shocked by the lack of top end go. Before it had razzled right up to an indicated 130mph with nary a hint of secondary vibration, now every time the revs went over nine grand the chassis was ruined by vibes and the whole bike died after the ton.
Back to Mr Dealer. All in yer head, sonny! Well what about the oil that was now leaking out of the cylinder head gasket - they had used a new gasket, hadn't they? Well, er, not exactly; nowt wrong with the old one, was there? And had I given the engine a chance to bed in? The dealer agreed to tighten the head bolts down - a primeval type mechanic emerged from his cave in the basement with a three foot long wrench and set to work. I sort of ran around in little circles, urging him to be careful, though that was a word probably beyond his vocabulary. The dealer looked on, like a king amongst peasants. The brute put all his weight against the wrench, with no thought to screwing the head down in a pattern that would minimise stress. Even if I wanted to I doubt if I could've stopped him - it was like, you want your head torqued down you're damn well going to get it!
Finally, I was back on the road. No oil leaks but the same dismal high rev performance. I'd vowed never to go back to that dealer again, bound to do more damage than good. No wonder they were so cheap! I went back to Mr Importer for some advice? When I mentioned the name of the dealer, he smirked and said it served me right for trying to save money. They had probably got the valve timing out, he'd have a look for two hundred notes plus parts. Lots of work involved getting the head off, see! I didn't have much choice, but insisted on being present.
At least the mechanic had a passable resemblance to a human being, though having Radio One blaring at maximum volume didn't inspire. He pointed out the worn cam lobes first, then showed me how the exhaust cam was a tooth out. The final cost came to £535, including a new camshaft and some work on the valve seats. All because some hooligan stripped a spark plug thread and didn't assemble the engine properly. Unbelievable. At least I got a letter from Mr Importer confirming this, got my lawyer to claim damages off the dealer. We're claiming around £2000, for the cost of repairs, stress and missed riding opportunities.
Once reassembled for the second time, she ran beautifully again but I'd lost heart in the venture. Too many bad memories, and I kept thinking the mechanic had maybe dropped something in the crankcase and the whole lot might explode in my face at any moment, or when I was enjoying some flat out kicks. I was on the lookout for a new deal.
Expect tyres to last for around 8000 miles and the bike to turn in about 55mpg. With nearly 15000 miles done, the O-ring chain and sprockets are still in good nick. New front disc pads were needed around 11000 miles, though they still had some meat on them their wet weather performance went off.
Rust has just begun to speckle the exhaust but the rest of the finish is fine, as good as new, in fact, but I always gave it a thorough clean once a week. No point letting a newish bike turn into a rat, is there? Such was its general state of cleanliness that I had no trouble getting a good trade-in value against a new 600 Bandit, which I have to admit is superior in all ways except for its outward appearance.
There are lots of alternatives to the XJR, including many other Jap import 400's, and it isn't really brilliant value for money for the amount of performance on offer. Buy one if you like the way it looks and value good stability above all else.
Andrew Wright