Slightly faded in orange, the little KH still looked good to my innocent eyes. This was 1991, the bike had four owners but only 19000 miles. The rotary valve induction stroker came alive first kick. Only a minimum of blue smoke and no rattles equalled a good machine to my eighteen year old mind. It would've been easy to get it completely wrong, to buy an old dog and be put off motorcycling for life.
I already knew how to ride, having gone the motorcycle school and hired machine route to pass the test. I wanted to buy a bigger machine but insurance costs blew that option. As it was, I was only going to be able to afford third party and a large shackle lock. The test ride went well enough, the KH handled okay, the gears worked and it seemed fast enough. My only qualm was that I felt rather highly perched on the bike - my kid sister asked me why I'd bought a noddy bike. Cheek!
Every bike is a little different and it took me a few hours to become used to the KH. It seemed well built, with taut suspension, easy handling and enough go to keep ahead of the cars, at least up to 50mph. On a long straight, during the ride home, I checked out the top speed. 75mph. I was never to get more than this out of the bike during the following year's riding. It seemed happy to cruise at 60 to 70mph, whilst turning in 85mpg. As for town work, it must be one of the easiest bike's to fling about and despite the two stroke motor it never seemed to choke up under mild use.
I was pleased as punch with my purchase. I laughed at my mates on their 125 replicas as they were also limited to 12hp (at least until they passed their test) but had to pay off thousands of pounds in loans. If the KH125 didn't look flash in the least, it was much more comfortable than the replicas; I could go for 150 miles without a sore arse, whilst my friends spent most of their time thinking up excuses to stop every 50 miles!
The KH was also dead simple to look after. All I had to do was add fuel and oil, as the engine stayed in tune regardless and the cycle parts were plain and simple. Its one concession to fashion was a single front disc, but I didn't mind this as it was still a good stopper that pulled me out of trouble several times. It could squeal the cheap, square section Avon, but the rubber regained its grip as soon as I backed off.
Whilst the tyres were as far from being state of the art as the rest of the bike, they seemed well suited to the Kawasaki's performance and wore out incredibly slowly. I was amazed by the 12hp replicas going through tyres in 6000 miles. The one area where the KH was a bit lacking was the suspension, which on bumpy roads let through most of the bumps and left me feeling like I'd been given a good going over by the local pack of Angels. One of our group on a Cagiva chop had no end of trouble with these louts, but that's another story.
I enjoyed myself immensely, caning the KH across the country, usually staying at the back of the screaming pack of replicas. It was a bit noisy but I could study their progress through the bends, seek out the smoothest path for the Kawasaki's tired suspension. They never managed to shake me off, and at the end of the run I'd still be there with a silly, albeit triumphant, grin.
Both the engine and the chassis hark back to the sixties rather than the eighties, but what the hell, the basic package worked well enough everywhere except on the motorway. The 12hp replicas had the same problem. Although I could hold 70mph, that was way insufficient to keep up with the traffic flow in the slow lane and I often ended up riding next to the white line that divided the slow lane from the hard shoulder. Even then mutants in cages would give me a dose of horn and overtake with such closeness that I ended up wobbling in their airstream for a couple of hundred yards.
That was the only time I was really frightened, although overtaking cars that were doing 65mph on A-roads could also be interesting. Acceleration above 65mph could best be described as stately. Several times I had to abandon the manoeuvre when I ran out of space, slam on the brakes to get back behind the car. A couple of drivers found it hilarious to accelerate as I came alongside them then brake as I started to slow down, hoping that I'd smash into an oncoming car. I had two near misses but survived with both knee-caps intact.
In town I invariably got my own back. Oh, how I pitied those poor buggers trapped in tin cages that had cost thousands of pounds. Even in the wet and cold, when I was well wrapped and protected by waterproofs, I didn't lose my feeling of well being. Well, only the once, when the front wheel hit a patch of oil and slid away. Down we went in a fuselage of sparks and grinding metal. A couple of old women went hysterical as I slid across their path, supposing me dead or grievously injured. But I went with the flow, shook myself and leapt back up, more concerned with the fate of the KH than any broken bones I might've received.
The KH had flipped back up and then fallen on to the side of a passing auto, which had in turn dragged it along for a few yards, before it bounced back down on to the tarmac. Aaarghh! The engine bars, handlebars and back indicators had taken most of the impact. There was a slight dent in the tank and silencer. The one side of the car, along its entire length, was a complete mess. New wings and doors would be needed. I felt rather sorry for the driver who looked like he was in the throes of an heart attack. Luckily, I'd paid out for third party insurance.
The Kawasaki was quickly fixed with bits from the breaker, though I didn't bother with the tank or exhaust. It could've done with a new set of wheels as the spokes and rims were beginning to rust away. A can of matt black paint would have to suffice. By then the clock was reading 26000 miles and I decided the engine needed a decoke and tune-up. The rings and bore were very worn, so I copped a newish barrel and rings from the breaker. It was an easy engine to work on with a bit of help from the manual (this being the first bike I'd worked on) but I stripped one stud when I bolted down the head, which meant I had to take it all apart again. Araldite seemed preferable to a helicoil and leaving it to set overnight worked jolly well (this bodge I picked up from reading the UMG, thanks chaps).
After the accident, the steering seemed a little nervous and the engine didn't run with quite the elan of the old one. The handling turned out to be the front wheel bearings breaking up. When they finally went I rode into some old dear's garden as it went completely out of control. Only problem with that was that there was a bloody big clump of rose bushes in the way. The thorns tore huge chunks out of my clothes and then my skin. Whilst I was having a cursing fit the old woman who owned the house came out and started whacking me on my helmet with her walking stick, not too amused to have her pride and joy of a garden completely ruined by some motorcycle lout. The local bobby came to my aid and I agreed to come back to help rebuild her garden at a later date. She's still waiting and my skin still has the scar marks.
After pushing the bike home, I hit the local bearing factor for a new set, got the old ones out with a chisel and walloped the new ones in with my biggest hammer. The handling was then back to normal, but top speed was down to 70mph, on a good day, and by the time 33000 miles were done I had the impression that a full engine rebuild wasn't far off. Being a sucker for punishment I traded it in for a low mileage KH125.
From that you'd gather that I like the KH rather a lot. Certainly, for the first 25000 miles there shouldn't be too many problems, thereafter they do start to wear out but there are lots of spares and even engines from breakers. I wouldn't use one for any distance on the motorway, although I have done some UK tours. They are generally adequate and particularly brilliant in town, and very, very cheap to run.
Adrian Miller