The KH100 wasn't my first choice of machine, its appearance was too old fashioned to inspire but I soon learnt that looks ain't everything. A four year old with just 13000 miles under its wings, the engine rattled into life first kick, I clambered on board, my nerves settling as the experience of CBT came flooding back. Truth was, that the mildly tuned KH, even though it was a stroker, couldn't have been easier to ride.
The gearbox was crunchy but didn't have false neutrals and the front end was a bit vague, but those minor faults aside I had no problems riding back and forth to work. I wouldn't go so far as to say I was relaxed. There was too much madness from the car drivers, requiring much ducking and diving to survive; I'd spent too many years on a bicycle not to know the survival routines.
There was just enough power to keep out of the way of the cars, the engine running as well at tickover revs as with the throttle to the stop. Power began to run out at 60mph, though a steep hill would put all of 72mph on the clock. I never achieved 75mph even in the most favourable conditions. For town work the KH was more than adequate but dual carriageways, let alone motorways, didn't really suit the bike, which as well as lacking speed also wallowed a little bit.
Three weeks of joy was abruptly brought to a halt when the motor refused to start however many times I kicked or pushed the cycle. The motor was half catching but then refusing to light up. I phoned a friend who was an expert in these things. Try a new spark plug was his advice. It so happened that the old one had solidified into the cylinder head, probably the original plug!
Yes, you guessed it, I ended up with a near perfect bike ruined by half a spark plug broken off in the head. Perhaps I shouldn't have used that long bar on the socket wrench. The head came off very easily, revealing that it would benefit from a decoke but it wasn't worth the effort as there seemed no way to remove what was left of the plug. I phoned my friend in despair who told me to buy MCN and check out the breakers. I did, ended up with a good head for a mere tenner. In my mind I was thinking it'd cost me hundreds to repair. This was a useful lesson for a novice to learn, use breakers whenever possible.
The second lesson was to buy a new cylinder head gasket as the old one blew as soon as I started the motor. Finally, I had the KH back in running order and my commuting run back on schedule. Once used to the cheapness and quickness of a commuter motorcycle it was a terrible shock to the system to go back to the car or public transport. These things get a grip on your mind after just a little while.
Wet weather riding wasn't that much fun. I was equipped with a set of nylons that made me sweat a bath full of water on each run but kept out the rain even in hurricane type weather. The Japanese tyres skittered over the slippery road surface, causing me many moments of palpitation until I became used to the feel, it appearing more frightening than it actually was.
My motorcyclist friends were all astonished that I was running the bike on Japanese rubber, muttering something about recycled condoms and hoping I had large life insurance (I don't have any, don't believe in it). Maybe they were right and I'd be better off on European tyres but the existing rubber had one great advantage - it never seemed to wear. My low running costs made most people weep with envy, as well as not wearing anything out the KH turned in 80 to 100mpg. Insurance, road tax and maintenance costs added up to next to nothing.
One frosty winter day we were rolling along quite happily despite cold that'd left icicles hanging off the end of the handlebars, when a tiny mutt shot out into the road and my front wheel. The furry ball of anger somehow ended up clamped between wheel and mudguard, bringing us to an abrupt halt. I moved the bike backwards which freed the dog with a yelp after cracking up the mudguard. The ungrateful canine then tried to take a bite out of my ankle but had to make do with a leather boot, which was promptly smashed into its head.
The guard fell off halfway to work, scraping down the road to be crushed under the wheels of a car. Coming home it rained really heavily, with plumes of water pouring off the wheel straight over the machine and myself. I was stopped and warned by a cop about the lack of a guard, needed no such encouragement to buy a used guard the next day for a fiver. Dogs not on leads should be shot or run down on sight.
Minor hassles like that didn't put me off riding the Kawasaki in truly atrocious weather. I don't know quite why I was so willing to abuse my body in this way, maybe it was the basically happy nature of the bike that shone through. I was so certain that the little stroker single would keep on going come what may that it filled me full of energy to take on the challenge of winter. Work was becoming a mere inconvenience in between bouts of riding the KH; routes becoming longer and longer as time wore on. My brain was filled with visions of bigger bikes and wilder times. What was supposed to be merely a practical and economical means of beating the traffic jams was becoming an obsession.
First, there was the minor matter of the test. Riding had become second nature and my sixth sense for danger had blossomed under the threat of the mad cagers (mad from spending too much time in traffic jams, probably very nice chaps in real life) but that wasn't what the examiner would want to see. Actions had to be deliberate, larger than life, so that they could see you knew what you were doing. The Highway Code was religiously studied until the day of the test. I was failed on not going through junctions fast enough and nearly knee-capping a ped who'd run out of nowhere on to the crossing. Second time around I passed with a warning about riding a touch too fast and not using the mirrors enough.
A look at the cost of buying, taxing, insuring and running a big four soon dissuaded me of that notion. Even a pre-'78 bike, with cheap classic insurance, didn't inspire. A sensible 250 twin was more like it but a couple of test rides revealed not much more go than the KH. Not worth the effort, thought I.
I'd enjoyed a year's running on the KH, adding 16000 miles to the original mileage. It has to be admitted that the motor had lost its edge, going dead after 55mph and only doing 70mpg. My neighbour with an MZ was at long last able to sniff dismissively at my excessive smokescreen. I knew that it was just a question of time until the engine blew up.
What should turn up but a tuned KH125 motor, in the local breaker for £250. I was a bit doubtful about the spannie but it was unlikely the motor would run without it. The engine slipped straight in and transformed the nature of the KH. 85mph or so, but weird handling that threatened to throw me out of the saddle at speed. I tended to use the thrilling acceleration in town rather than the outright speed. Great fun!
H.R.T.