The 1980 Z500 had only 18000 miles on the clock. Apart from a very slight amount of alloy rash it looked for all the world like a brand new bike. As it was then ten years old this was hard to believe. The owner wasn't even a mild pensioner but some enthusiastic 40 year old. He used a Honda C90 for commuting, the Z used just for balmy summer days. Its good condition was obviously aided by the vendor's admission that the bike was stored in the front room during the winter. The twelve year old C90 also looked like it got a massive dose of TLC every day.
I wasn't going to complain, after a brief test ride I handed over 400 notes before someone else turned up with a better offer. My timing was perfect, I'd just stashed the documents in my jacket pocket when a bunch of hoodlums arrived to look the machine over. They looked crestfallen when they saw me set off on the bike, the engine making a lovely whirring sound without the slightest of rattles. I had the impression that he'd never taken it over 5000rpm and changed the oil every week.
The Z500 felt secure if heavy (430lbs dry) along the mild A-roads that led the 50 miles to my home. The suspension was original, showing signs of stress as I swung the beast through a series of S-bends. The handlebars shook in my hands as I hit the throttle hard in third exiting the last bend. Revved the engine out to 10,000rpm, producing a flurry of vibes. Up to fourth and then fifth to see what she'd do on a bit of straight road.
The speedo resolutely refused to budge beyond 100mph however much I got down on the tank. Just as well because the weaves were so intense that I was beginning to feel a bit seasick. If I developed a serious relationship with the Kawa some newish shocks would be first on my shopping list as the back end felt much worse than the front.
Neither was the front disc impressive. By the time I reached home my right wrist felt like it was sprained from the effort needed to produce some pretty minimal braking. My bum was a bit saddle sore, too. If the bars were flat then the footrests were a couple of inches too far forward for long term comfort. In its favour, the clutch was light and the gearchange precise.
After a couple of weeks most of the pain dissipated as I became used to the bike. Kawasaki claimed 50 horses for this DOHC four cylinder engine but it soon became pretty obvious to me that to get anywhere fast the balls had to be revved off the motor. Not that the power ever came close to wrenching my arm muscles or turning my knuckles white. The engine could only be described as extremely bland......the only time it intruded was beyond 9000 revs when secondary vibes attacked the pegs and bars.
I actually commute 40 miles each way every day, a lot of it on the M1. The Z500 was the bare minimum, in terms of power, that I could get away with. Even then, I had to play footsie on the gearchange to keep the speedo within spitting distance of 90mph. This is not an engine that could be called full of torque, I often had to resort to cunning use of other vehicles' slipstreams to maintain a decent rate of knots. I was rewarded, if that's the right word, with around 40mpg for my troubles.
Most of the weaves were cleared up by using a set of Girling shocks a mate had hanging around his garage. The front forks often felt a bit queasy but the relatively smooth surface of the motorway didn't put them under too much stress. There was naff all engine braking whilst the rear drum was more an on-off switch that a reliable means of back-up braking. Ferodo pads in the front disc did persuade it to squeal the tyre when necessary but I always felt a bit vulnerable playing with the jerks in the fast lane. God knows, there wasn't enough acceleration in reserve to get me out of trouble.
The bike came with Pirelli tyres that refused to wear out rapidly. I was pleased to avoid excessive expense but not so happy about their grip in the wet. The Z developed an edgy feel, skittering over white-lines and manhole covers like it was about to let loose. I ended up replacing them with another set despite this, nearly 20,000 miles a throw was too good an incentive to easily abandon.
I never did come off at speed, that was reserved for town riding. The Kawasaki should have been a reasonable town bike but I found its heavy handling nature a bit hard going. Traffic was often so snarled up that it was necessary to make some very sharp turns around entombed cagers. It was something a GPz550 could handle easily, but the Z always felt a bit of a porker on the edge of falling right over into the turn I was trying to make. This trait often caused me to lose my temper, bringing on a sudden dose of throttle madness.
That was how I ended up on my arse one slightly damp day when I got the back wheel into a crazed slide. I don't know who was more surprised, the Kawa or myself. By the time I'd reacted the Z was digging out large chunks of tarmac after hitting any passing cars that got in the way. It was lucky for me I'd forked out on the third party insurance. Otherwise, the somewhat irate cagers would've strung me up!
The other accident was caused by a car veering towards me, as I made a high velocity dash down the middle of the road. Frantic braking pulled me up in time to wrench the Z into a small gap between two cars. The lack of natural agility meant I ended up wedged between the autos. When I tore one of their bumpers off as I tried to extract the bike they were not exactly full of love for myself. Oh well, we all have to live and learn.
Appearance soon went to pot as I had no intention of cleaning the beast more than once a month. I was far too busy for such strange indulgences. The Z protested by refusing to start (at about 24000 miles). After much swearing this turned out to be duff ignition coils. Some car units were wedged in the frame and a new set of spark plugs fitted. I had feared that it was the aftermarket electronic ignition that had packed up but that was okay. Excessive town riding turned the engine rather rough running at low revs but that was solved by screaming the mill in the lower gears. When it became really bad I knew it was time to change the oil; every 4000 miles or so.
I know, I know, I was lucky to get a nice one and should have treated it much better. But the thing lacked any kind of character or sparkle; I soon decided it was beneath contempt, not worth putting too much effort in.
I was quite surprised at how reliably the motor whirred away. In the first year I did nearly 25000 miles with no problems, although every 5,000 miles I had to persuade a mate to balance the carbs for me. If I left it for any longer then the vibes became really frenzied and fuel went down to 30mpg.
Come 1992 there were 43000 miles on the clock, a set of silencers about to drop off and some top end rattles that sounded expensive. I almost cursed myself for not checking the valves. The carburation wasn't ruined by bunging on a pair of universal megas, although the same couldn't be said about my hearing. It took another 4000 miles before the rattles overcame the growl of the exhaust. By then the bike had become so slow it was dangerous to use on the motorway.
One weekend I pulled the motor out (ouch!), and took a socket set to the top end. The cam lobes had bits missing, the camchain and tensioner were dead but I thought I'd got away lightly as the bores and pistons looked fine. It wasn't until I levered the cylinder off that I found out the crankshaft was rattling on its main bearings and the primary drive was also shot. As most of consumables were on the way out, there was nothing for it but to flog off the remains for £150.
Phillip Willis
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I was initially going to buy a Z650 but entering my local bike shop I instantly fell in love with a new Z500B2. Black with red and blue pinstripes. This was way back in 1980. I traded my old and totally thrashed 400/4, signed the HP forms and rode away on my new mount. After the old dog, the Z500 was a breath of fresh air....apart from the pogo-stick back end - soon solved by adjusting the suspension to the hardest setting.
The triple disc set-up was also a major improvement and I could find nothing wrong with the four cylinder middleweight, save that it was a touch too civilised. After a couple of weeks the bike was run in and the performance proved adequate; I was pleased with the bike except for the washing machine exhaust note!
I immediately set about constructing my own 4-1 exhaust out of some old pipes I had hanging about. Result, it looked like a Kerker system and sounded like a proper motorcycle should. I rode the machine for two years like this without any problems, except for numerous police chases from which I always escaped.
Then I suffered a pretty bad accident on the bike. I was overtaking a line of cars on a dual carriageway, having passed the last car I proceeded to pull into the inside lane when all of a sudden there was no bike underneath me. What had happened was that the front tyre had managed to pass over the horrible shiny tar they put on the edge of the road repairs but the back tyre hadn't. The fact that I was travelling at 100mph and that it was raining obviously didn't help matters.
The bike was a sorry sight, even the alternator rotor and the end of the crankshaft had gone AWOL, so it was to the shed for a rebuild after my broken arm had recovered. I went the whole hog, a secondhand GPz550 motor, new Laser 4-1, bellmouths, bigger jets, S & W Street Strokers, Dresda box section swinging arm, taper head bearings, stronger fork springs, rear-sets, cut down seat, etc. The old Z500 was to be transformed into a fire breathing, giant slayer.
Some months later man and machine were back on the road. It was much better in every department, capable of an indicated 130mph, incredible wheelies and of blowing much bigger bikes into the weeds. For four years the Kawasaki performed admirably, only on two occasions did it let me down.
The first instance was when I was on my way home from Amsterdam, the bike went on to two cylinders. I guessed it was the electronic ignition so decided to carry on to Zeebrugge. The Z would do about 65mph, two-up, so we eventually made it back to England more or less in one piece. In London I purchased a new black box, they being very rare in breakers, and away we went again.
The second time I was riding through Worcester City Centre and noticed that the inside of my legs were getting very warm. I looked down, to my horror, saw flames belching up from under the petrol tank. I stopped, unlocked the seat, ripped the tank off and managed to quench the flames with my gloved hands. Part of the wiring loom was burnt out so I purchased a secondhand one form the local breakers and was back on the road again. I'm not sure what caused the fire, maybe some insulation had corroded away or a couple of wires had chaffed through, as there was a small amount of secondary vibes present at 70mph, a good excuse to go a bit faster.
I always did my own maintenance regularly as I had a lot invested in the bike and wasn't going to let neglect ruin such a fun machine. The engine needed valve shims, carb balancing, new plugs and an oil/filter change every few thousand miles. I went through large quantities of bearings, sprockets, tyres and chains.
After four years of abuse the engine was beginning to use loadsa oil and I had decided that after the holiday I'd rebuild the motor. It was during this Welsh holiday that the engine developed a loud knocking noise. I decided it was the big-ends but wanted to see if the bike would last the holiday and get us home. Much to its credit, it did.
After stripping down, I found that only one big-end shell was out of tolerance, so the engine was treated to new shells, a rebore and new valve guides. The motor was generally easy to work on but a bit of a bugger to haul in and out of the frame.
Back on the road again, the Z was running well. I rode in all weathers, every day and can recall one bitterly cold winter. The temperature dropped to -22 degrees one night, which wasn't sufficient to stop my mate and I riding to the pub seven miles away. We did not see one other vehicle on the road that night and to say that we were cold after the journey is an understatement, even our leather boots and jackets had frozen solid. But the Kawasaki ran and ran, as if its makers had intended it for the arctic circle rather than the Orient.
One morning, not long after the rebuild, I was going to work when I applied the front brake, the front end of the bike seemed to travel away from the rest of the machine. At first, I thought it was loose steering head bearings but after tightening them down the problem persisted. Handling had turned distinctly queasy as if the bearings were worn out or the tyres deflated. The Z had never been a perfect handling bike, but even with the excessive power of the GPz550 motor it had never become frightening until then. I could well do without turning every ride into a suicide mission.
I took the petrol tank off and found the cause of the problem. I gasped and clutched my heart when I saw that the top frame tube, the one that runs from the top of the headstock down underneath the tank had sheared right through! I felt grateful in the extreme that the rest of the frame had held, that the whole chassis hadn't collapsed on the way home from work. Whether the failure was caused by the earlier accident, the non-standard engine and the much higher road speeds or just plain old age and corrosion I have no idea. I had the frame welded, still had sufficient faith in the machine to look forward to many more enjoyable miles.....
Then I had a collision with a blind car driver. He pulled out of a sidestreet backwards, apparently without a care or thought in the world. I couldn't avoid him, hit the car at about 40mph with a massive detonation that, if it'd been a fair world, would've stopped his heart dead. I went straight over the car, had enough time to scream some abusive words at him before I crashed into the ground; ended up with two smashed knees and the bike with a totalled front end. At least his insurance paid for everything. I was back on the road within three months with two huge scars left on my kneecaps not to mention some painful memories. Why he couldn't have waited until I'd gone past, I don't know, but that's life.
Altogether, my Z500/550 held out for ten years, being used almost every day, constantly thrashed, bashed and crashed but I loved it as it was a fast, good handling, economical machine. I reckon I averaged about 20,000 miles a year and after two engines, one major engine rebuild, and lots of other maintenance I can say I was very pleased with the way the bike took the punishment. Total mileage must've been close to 180,000 but even that didn't finish the old girl off as she's still going strong in a mate's hands three years later. I ended up with a Z1000 Mk.1 after spending six months without a bike.
Richard Eveson