March 1989 finally saw the end of my T140V to my great relief, after spending the last two years being a motorcycle owner rather than a rider. The Z750 plus 200 quid was the deal. Maybe I lost out financially but in terms of fun and being on the road, I was quids in. The 750 twin Kwak, known affectionately as the flying turd thanks to Kawasaki's colour scheme, is of 1978 vintage and in virtually pristine condition. To date, it has covered 27500 miles and has two previous owners, one old guy who used it for sunny weekend transport and the other an enthusiastic garage mechanic who regularly carried out oil changes.
One thing immediately noticeable after owning a string of British twins is the weight, 480lbs dry as opposed to 395lbs for a 750 Bonnie, but the claimed power output for both machines is similar. The two bikes are completely different characters, the Triumph having far more bottom end grunt than the Kawasaki and superior handling - probably due to the difference in mass.
Back to the Zed. Mechanical engine noise compared to most modern Japs is pretty horrendous. Something to do with the contra-rotating balance shafts and related chain drive. At tickover, or about 1000rpm which seems to be the minimum at which it will reliably tickover, it emits a sound not unlike clapped out big-ends. This noise seems common to Kawasaki twins, a mate once owned a Z400 that sounded just the same. More disconcerting than worrying once you get used to it, and, anyway, it disappears as soon as the revs are increased.
The standard exhaust system contributes to the heavy mass in a big way, weighing about 30lbs. It is very restrictive in terms of its effect on performance, so the bike is currently fitted with a 2-1 of unknown origin (it looks and sounds suspiciously home-made) but was part of the deal when I bought the bike. At least it sounds like a bike should with it fitted, and it lets the engine rev much more freely.
The power delivery is not what you would expect from a parallel twin of this capacity, useable torque does not really make itself known below 3000rpm, but by 6000 revs the thing is really on song and by 7250rpm it starts running out of steam. The redline is 7750rpm and I don't believe in revving an engine of that age, capacity and layout above 6 grand.
It'll pull cleanly from around three grand in top gear, although it usually feels like it could do with an extra gear. I've lost count of the number of times I've tried for 6th gear....the gearbox is a fairly positive device, except for hurried downchanges through two or three gears (when some moron crosses the road without looking) which can often result in false neutrals and when a gear finally engages it's the wrong one. It's just one of the Zed's foibles you eventually get used to, as is remembering to have at least 1700rpm dialled in when pulling away to avoid stalling the motor. Different to my Bonnie, which would pull away with around 1200rpm on the clock.
The braking system although lacking feel is powerful enough to haul the bike down from any speed either in the wet or dry, tyre howlers being fairly easily obtainable. It frequently suffers from the dreaded Kawasaki brake squeal; great for frightening the life out of the unsuspecting public, but does nothing for braking efficiency. Only remedy is to remove the caliper and thoroughly clean away all the signs of brake dust. Always stay clear of pattern pads. Compared to genuine items they are about as effective as fitting wet sponges in the calipers.
Tyre wear is pretty minimal. The front is showing signs of cracking whilst the rear Roadrunner goes for about 6500 miles. Handling I can't really complain about, given that I'm not much of a scratcher - by no stretch of the imagination is it a scratcher's machine. It always stays on the chosen line and is not bothered by white lines except in the wet when it gives a friendly twitch just to keep you awake. It doesn't take kindly to changes of direction through fast bends...
As I had cause to do last summer when some moronic cager pulled out in front of me on a corner, forcing me from 80 to 35mph in a sparrow's fart. Still I taught him a lesson by pulling up alongside and nonchalantly removing his rubber aerial and bunging it through his open window.
Riding two up doesn't have any adverse effects on handling but does upset acceleration, although top end remains around 110mph. Riding solo it's quick enough to see off boy racers at the traffic light GP but two up forget it. Rear sprockets only last for about 2000 miles, although both mine have been pattern items. I've been told that Kawasaki sprockets, which cost twice as much, last much, much longer. The gearbox sprocket is still in good nick after 27000 miles as is the non-standard O-ring which required very little adjustment.
Despite the balance shafts whirring away below, cruising above 75mph is not a viable proposition due to the vibes. Ideal cruising is around 65mph where the motor feels pretty relaxed and returns around 55mpg. Vibes destroy headlamp bulbs every 1000 miles - you don't need a mileometer as the bulbs seem to go exactly at that mileage! However, none of the other bulbs has ever blown. Apart from the vibes, the riding stance is comfortable enough for long runs without the need for frequent stops, and there is plenty of pillion space.
With regular oil and filter changes every 1000 and 2000 miles respectively, the Zed has yet to let me down. The carbs seldom go out of tune, although it's a doddle to sort them out if they do. Timing needs regular attention, though (only one set of points), if you don't want to suffer dramatic power loss. The problem is the felt pad that is supposed to keep the heel of the points lubricated, doesn't, so it wears the points out.
Running costs are fairly minimal, the major cost being oil and filters. The motor doesn't burn any oil at present and seems to clatter on reliably enough, although I suspect the camchain is nearing the end of its life. It's not the machine for the poseur or boy racer but it makes a good, cheap hack and is reliable enough for the occasional long run.
Andy Corp
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Some wideboy had half-heartedly chopped a 1977 Z750 twin. I mean this thing looked foul with two yard long forks and a back end that had a couple of iron bars rather than shocks to get it a few inches lower on the ground. Rigid tail chop, the business, he had insisted over the phone. I'm not against customs but this was taking things a touch too far. I reckon the bright orange paint must've been put on by his five year old kid and the black paint on the engine was flaking off showing up engine alloy that was impossibly mottled with corrosion.
The slash cut pipes were so loud there was no way I could suss whether the engine was rattling or not, but a brief burst up the road revealed some torque and that the wheelbase was so long it took a twenty point turn to get back to his house. The frame hadn't been altered so it would be quite easy to put back into stock shape. He wanted £500, I offered £200 and we ended up at £250. Well, it did have a new MOT and battery.
Rumbling down country roads at 50mph, on the way home, I found the laid back riding position very comfortable and the beat of the big vertical twin emphasized its relaxed nature. The DOHC mill was really a massive version of their old Z400, was rather over-built with a couple of rattling balance shafts taking care of the primary vibes that on a British twin would have everything falling apart. I soon went off the chop style after entering a bend, the tiny front wheel, with a pathetic drum brake, bounced all over the place whilst the forks tried to detach themselves from the yokes. I got home in one piece, the neighbours finding the bike as hilarious as an invalid carriage!
The next day I took my other bike, a rather nice Honda CB250G5 (yes, I like alternative hacks) down to the breakers, tape measure in hand, to buy forks, front wheel and shocks. I ended up with a GPz550 front end and a pair of Girling shocks. The forks needed new seals, the discs new pads and the wheel was covered in crud, but the whole lot only cost sixty quid. An amusing time was had tying everything on to the back of the Honda and a whole week went by until I cleaned everything up, bought some new EBC pads and managed to attach it all to the reluctant Z750. The ape-hangers were also replaced with flat bars; and some proper silencers, footrests and levers put on from my large stock of miscellaneous bits.
That only left the terrible finish but that could wait until I was sure the motor still had some life left in it. The clock read 32000 miles, which I tended to believe because the state the bike was in it was impossible to ride very far or thrash it.
The engine only developed 50 horses from new, which was no better than a sixties Triumph twin but the Z weighed about 50% more! What the Kawasaki did have was an excess of torque from 2000 revs onwards (below that the transmission lurched so badly that it was impossible to ride). Sounds good? Unfortunately, as soon as 5000 revs were hit the vibes did a passing imitation of a Bonnie, it was so frenzied that I rode back home, determined to check the engine bolts and chain alignment.
They were fine, so I was limited to about 75mph in top gear. This was about the most that the renovated chassis was able to maintain without throwing a wobbly. The tyres, at that stage, were an ill-matched Metz on the front and a square section Avon on the back. With that kind of rubber I was actually quite pleased with the stability at 75mph. As I'm a bit of a miser I waited for them to wear out, expecting them to be out of action in a few thousand miles on such a heavy bike. They lasted 6000 miles until the Z started sliding all over the road in the wet. A set of Roadrunners replaced them.
I was impressed with the easy starting, the friendly nature and the solid feel at reasonable speeds. That was enough to inspire me to do a quick respray to the cycle parts and touch up of the frame. Candy red seemed to suit the character of the bike, and it showed up the engine finish, which was then entirely alloy as the black paint (not the original finish) had fallen off. Several weekends spent with wire wool and Solvol made an appreciable difference but it was a weekly chore to keep the corrosion at bay.
If I'd been expecting the big twin to be economical in exchange for being so slow I would have been very disappointed. It was only doing 35 to 40mpg, whacking some holes in the crud encrusted air-filter made no difference other than to increase the induction noise to an howling that drowned the pair of old A65 silencers that had seemed an appropriate match to the Z750's engine.
Amidst my spares I found a reasonable Tiger 650 Amal carb and manifold. That seemed exciting but there was no way it would match up with the Z's cylinder head. But it got me thinking, a single carb seemed to be just what the big twin called for. I waited until winter to get serious, when I could take the bike off the road without missing its enjoyable character. I decided to make up my own manifold out of rubber hose. This was flexible enough not to need too much precision work and cut up easily. Joining three separate section required some skilled used with wire, GRP and Superglue. The flow wasn't perfect as two right-angled changes in direction were involved. There was no room for the air-filter so that was junked. A few jubilee clips and a rubber bracket between frame and carb (to stop it flopping around) held everything together. A large pile of carbs, filter, brackets, pipes and cables, that must've weighed 20lbs, were thrown into my parts bin.
The rather long induction path that resulted would, according to my engineering books, suit the low revving nature of the engine. Of course, the jets were miles out, although it came to life after half an hour's worth of starting - it was a real nostalgia trip to tickle the carb! It wouldn't run above 3000 revs until I changed the slide and even with the biggest main jet available it wouldn't rev beyond 6500 revs in neutral. That was okay, the vibration made that a no-no. A quick test run and plug check revealed that the mixture was almost dead on.
The effect of the single carb was to increase the amount of torque available and make the engine much smoother running below 6000 revs. The carb suited the engine well, giving an average fuel consumption of 50mpg. However, I had no faith in the mechanical integrity of the manifold, reckoned it wouldn't last very long. After much thought I decided the solution was to make an aluminium manifold in three sections which could then be bolted together.
This was a simple matter of drilling and file work. The manifold was Araldited on to the rubber stubs on the head with a couple of self tappers making sure it couldn't fall off. This had much better flow characteristics, needing yet more changes to the Amal's jetting. It would rev to 7000rpm now, although vibes made those revs useless for anything other than brief bursts of acceleration. Fuel had improved dramatically, 60 to 65mpg! Admittedly, the bike was slow in outright speed but for sensible riding the excess of torque allowed it to burn off 400 Superdreams and the like. 75 to 80mph cruising (in effect the top speed) was easily achieved.
The next stage would be to take the head off and weld the manifold directly on after cleaning up the ports. If my amateur engineering can achieve such good results just think what the factory could do if they put their minds to it.
Over the winter I'd gone over the chassis looking for ways to save mass, replacing heavy metal bits with plastic where possible. With non-standard exhaust, carb, seat, guards and front end I reckon that the mass is down to a rather more reasonable 450lbs, which certainly has an effect on the way it handles and accelerates.
Even with 45000 miles on the clock the engine still gave every indication of being robust, so I took it off on the annual holiday instead of the Honda which was rattling like the small-ends had gone. We all make mistakes! I had so much camping gear that as well as a full rack the pillion perch was covered. The Z didn't have any problem hauling an extra 100lbs or so, but the front end felt a little light. Then riding along the motorway at 80mph, revelling in the feel and sound of the engine, the bars suddenly started shaking in my hands. The twin GPz front discs were fantastically powerful so I grabbed the lever. The wobble seemed to increase, the forks going from stop to stop. I braked even harder and shoved the box down three gears. As the speedo hit 40mph the wobbles magically disappeared. At the first services I pulled in to check the chassis and put some more air in the tyres (cost £2, bloody cheek!).
After that it seemed to settle down but when I went to pull off the motorway the gear lever wouldn't move. I was trapped in fifth gear. I foolishly pulled over as soon as I was on the A-road to check if the lever had come loose. I then had to pull off in fifth, which stalled the engine dead. Have you ever tried to start a big twin in fifth gear with the clutch pulled in? Don't bother! I pushed the Z until we came to a steep hill, sat aboard revelling in the roar of the cooling wind, until 20 mph was on the speedo when I dropped the clutch. By the time I returned home, after the shortest holiday on record, a slipping clutch had added to the gearbox woes. That's how things stand, the Z is waiting for my attention whilst I rattle around on the Honda.
Frank Smith
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I gave some youth on a wailing 125 stroker the finger. He'd come past with about an inch to spare, waking me from my reverie. I could have torn him limb from limb but there was no way the old 750 twin could be persuaded to catch him. I'd soon learnt to ride in a laid back, relaxed way, which the beat of the two massive pistons seemed to encourage. There was enough torque between 2000 and 6000 revs to impress even a Harley owner (I should know, I've an 883 for a summer bike).
The Z750 looks kind of righteous when the cycle parts are painted gloss (not gross, boy) black and the engine cases polished. High bars and a K and Q seat make for maximum comfort in town or down country roads. They don't detract from its abilities as a high speed tourer because it never had any to begin with. High speed equals excessive vibration, wild wallowing and pathetic economy; anything over 75mph, forget it. If for some reason you can't, the 50hp twin will top out at 110mph, a momentary ecstasy that will provide a lasting impression of impending mechanical and physical carnage. I know one wideboy who bought back his speed tested Z750 in half a dozen separate bits.
The gearbox didn't inspire much love, more like fear and loathing, reminiscent as it was of old Fanny Barnet I used to hustle around Bath when I was sixteen. I found fourth gear useful for most riding. Fifth was too tall for anything under 50mph, causing lots of juddering in the transmission. Second and third left the Kawasaki vibrating like a worn Bonnie. Changing down was akin to trying to step through fast setting concrete. Whenever a clean change was achieved I had the impression that the bike demanded a round of applause. I never really got the hang of the change as it seemed to wear as fast as I learnt its ways.
The first failure was the exhaust system. Even when it was rusted halfway through it weighed a ton. Its scrap value was probably worth more than the Z750, which I'd originally bought for 300 notes. A loud, matt black 2-1 was made up by a friend for forty notes. EEC bureaucrats wouldn't approve but it was a fine way of alerting cagers and peds to my presence. The cops were another story but I rarely bothered to pull over when requested. Cop cars can't follow bikes through narrow gaps; it was as simple as that. And no, my fine law abiding friends, I didn't register the bike in my name, MOT or tax it. Save it for the babies and cock-suckers.
One of the features of the new exhaust system was the thinness of the steel, making it ultra-light but also susceptible to vibration. In fact, one of the down-pipes cracked up completely (after about 4500 miles), leaving me with a loud, sullen bike some 15 miles from home. I bought a couple of cans of beer, drunk them down and cut up the cans into sheet metal. This was wrapped around the pipe, secured with a couple of jubilee-clips and wire. I could see the pipe moving about but it stopped most of the gas escaping.
I made it home without holing a piston. New downpipes were fashioned out of thicker steel, sent away for chroming and finally matched to a universal silencer - total cost £75. The result was quieter and tougher. There's nothing more irritating than having matt black paint fall off every time it rained; the chrome was lustrous, responded well to the polishing rag.
The infamous disc brakes might've been a problem had not the wheels long since been thrown out in favour of late sixties Norton drums (TLS front, SLS rear). Lots of bullshit's written about the superiority of discs, and new ones might be jolly good, but where age and wear's concerned give me a set of decent drums any day. Hardly any maintenance chores and plenty of braking if you ride like a boring old fart. Which is not to say slow but in a restrained but constant manner that invariably gets me to my destination just as quickly as all the poor souls who insist on abusing their right hands aboard horrible race replicas.
These kinds of mods have to be expected because the Z's very popular with owners of both British and American iron, usually used as a second bike when it's too nasty to get the main machine dirty. In this context it has to be accepted that the Kawasaki's much more acceptable than a cage and more dignified than a pushbike.
They often change hands via the cosmic exchange system for a few hundred quid. As is the way with most motorcyclists they are usually modded along the way with whatever falls to hand. I've seen one with a sixties BSA tank (the original does rust through after 30,000 miles) and another that looked just like a 650SS from a distance (that's a Norton, sonny, if you were still shitting in your nappies in the sixties).
The engine's one of those curious Japanese efforts, built massively and mildly tuned. The only advice owners offer each other is change the oil frequently and leave the rest of it alone. This has to be emphasized as a perfectly decent Z750 was given a tune-up by its concerned owner, against all known advice, and ended up in about two thousand bits when the jerk dropped a screw into the depths of the engine. If they're ridden so that the vibes don't become harsh the engine just runs and runs on the back of mere regular oil changes. A bit of a shock to Harley and British bike owners who have permanently oil stained fingers from constant fettling.
The bike is very heavy, which is a bit of a distraction in town. I help things along by insisting on running the Z on Shin Sins tyres, which are cheap and last about 15000 miles. In the dry they grip rather acceptably at the moderate speeds I employ. Even in the wet they are no worse than OE tyres on the Harley. Sure, they squirm around like a hooker with crabs but they never go over the top suddenly by sliding away without any warning. The 500lbs of metal (not to mention my own 20 stone) makes the rubber sit solidly on the road. I wouldn't chance them on a CBR600, but then I wouldn't chance myself on such a dastardly device. No, I'm not jealous it's just that I don't think my aged heart would survive the paranoia associated with 150mph.
I've never fallen off, though I did find the crash-bars useful for taking off the side of a car. Some dinosaur brained cager tried to slide left where I was bopping along in the gutter at about 10mph. Rather than letting him run me into the gutter I applied a touch of reverse lock whilst the crash-bar made intimate contact with the side of the his car. The tearing metal alerted him to his imminent insurance claim. He jerked back into his lane with the speed of a cockroach about to be flattened with a hammer. I accelerated hard, the bar dragging off a great swathe of metal from the car, until we were suddenly free and made it through the next set of lights just as they were going to amber. I waved bye, bye but I don't think he took it very well. I rather fancy a device that would shoot out sideways to blow away car's tyres, but then I've always been a bit of a nasty bastard.
When I bought the Z there was a highly modified electrical system that would've given owners of Mk.1 Le Mans Guzzi's a bout of nostalgia. The general consensus was that the alternator, switches and battery could be kept, the rest torn out. So that's what I did. I've built a couple of custom Triumphs in the past, know the way to success is simplicity and a combined rectifier/regulator unit. A weekend had an electrical system installed that I could understand.
Nothing was quite that simple, my big chrome Triumph headlamp kept blowing until it was insulated with three layers of rubber. That's often the case, although a Bonnie gives out more vibes, lacking the Z's balancers, the frequency was different, liable to destroy otherwise tough components. It's the same when building specials, failure to match engine and frame could cause all kinds of madness.
I've even seen two Z750 engined chops, or rather low-riders, but that's to miss the point. This Qwack has very little going for it if you try to take it out of hack country, which is its natural mien. Engines last for 40 to 50,000 miles before they are totally worn out, as in throw in the nearest skip, canal or Volvo owner's greenhouse. I have seen one Z750 fitted with a Z440 engine, which seems rather fun if you're into slow, overweight and vibratory hacks. I'll pass mine on come next spring or summer and buy something a little bit smaller for the hacking.
Gunge
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As someone who likes big vertical twins, the Kawasaki Z750 was a natural for me. The UMG ain't too kind to it, complaining of too little power and too much mass. True enough, but it also clumps along on an excess of torque. Get her into top, there's not much need to use the gearbox again unless speed goes below 25mph. I was impressed with the first ride and continued to be impressed with its easy going nature.
The bike was a 1980 model with 63,400 miles under its wheels when it came into my hands. An old rat? Nope, the last owner had resprayed the chassis, bead-blasted and polished the engine cases, rebuilt the wheels, fitted new forks, guards and seat. Why go to so much effort on such a high mileage bike? Well the bits were new but off the back of a lorry, hence cheap. One thing led to another, and before the poor chap knew what had happened he'd done a full cosmetic rebuild.
The engine was still stock. It'd been lovingly maintained by a mere two owners (this was 1992) until so well had its components worn into each other that it didn't need any attention between my own 2000 mile services (oil at half that). The engine didn't leak oil and still rustled away beautifully - you have to admire the build quality of this Kawasaki.
The previous owner, grinned as I was about to leave, intoned 'I'll leave the electrics to you, son, they're about due for replacement.' Thanks a lot, I thought. It wasn't that bad, the battery looked newish and everything worked. It was just that the loom was tired, held together with insulation tape in places. The front light was pretty pathetic and the indicators flickered to an illegal rhythm of their own devising. The horn squeaked pitifully.
I rode around quite happily for about seven months in this state. Just avoided country roads at night. The exhaust was loud enough to warn cagers and ped's of my approach, so no great hassle having a useless horn. What made me do something about the fast disintegrating loom was the time the bike went completely dead whilst I was in the middle of an overtaking manoeuvre.
Why does this kind of shit always happen when you least expect it and why is it always in situations where cagers can have a good laugh? One psychopath popped his head out of his window after I cut him up heading for the side of road. Screamed abuse and shook his fist at me. I gave him a death stare and he careered off, burning rubber and trying to make up for being endowed like a hamster, or something.
One time, I'd cut up a taxi in London, rolled to a halt on the pavement, stepped off the bike, took my lid off, only to receive a right hook in the chops from a frothing at the mouth cabbie. There is only one possible reaction to such madness. Give back more than you get. The poor cabbie had a stunned, frightened look on his face after I whacked him back. He wobbled off back to his cab and screamed into his radio. I assumed he was summoning reinforcements and got out of there pronto.
Back to the Z's wiring. Basically, it was disintegrating. Half the ignition circuit had fallen apart. I managed to bodge it, using part of the lighting circuit, which meant only the ignition worked. A new wiring loom was silly money, so it was down to simplifying the circuit and doing it wire by wire. I soldered all joints and covered in insulation tape. Cheaper and more reliable than buying new connectors.
There were a few teething troubles. A couple of headlamp bulbs exploded until I made a separate earth connection. The indicators, run by a Halfords flasher box, still didn't flicker correctly and sometimes all four came on together! Fixed by going over the connections. The new wiring had the desirable effect of making the mill fire up first press of the starter, though it was still a bit grumpy until after ten minutes of warming up.
A powerband didn't really exist. It was harder charging above 3000 revs but it was never going to wrench arms out of sockets. Ran out of puff by 7000 revs. It was like an old British twin in the way it vibrated above 6000rpm, making high revs a bit of a no-no. Despite running to chain driven balancers, not that dissimilar to the Superdreams.
It was never as smooth as a four but kept at reasonable revs the vibes didn't really ruin my composure and I could happily sit on the bike for a 100 miles or so. Fuel stops were frequent because economy was never better than 45mpg, often as low as 35mpg. Reserve didn't work so I didn't really want to go further than a 100 miles as the tank wouldn't take more than three gallons. The poor economy resulting from the excessive frictional losses from the balancer and hefty, all up, mass of near 500lbs.
Given that effective top speed was 80mph, which was also a viable cruising speed, the upright riding position was jolly comfortable. I particularly liked the fat (newish) saddle, as did my pillion who had both a slightly raised section at the back and a grabrail to help keep her in place.
The most I did in a day was 750 miles. I could still walk, just! The engine ticked and clacked to itself as it cooled down but no permanent damage was done. A hot engine does equal a near seized gearbox and intransigent clutch but this doesn't matter on the open road. Just stick it in fifth and use the throttle. Although it's a good idea to avoid the 1000 to 2000rpm range because the drive and balance chains both clang away; they both need regular fettling.
The bike tended to be heavily loaded on tours. Two hefty people, huge tank-bag, panniers and a rack stuffed with camping gear and a portable TV! Why well not? The Z shrugs off all this mass, as long as the rear shocks are set on maximum and the weight's well distributed. Handling at low speeds becomes heavy and it's not a good idea to go beyond 80mph as a wild weave sets in and the front forks go all light and wobbly.
Solo handling's not inspiring, either. The bike needs muscle and bravery in equal proportions but isn't like some Kawasaki's - it's relatively safe to slam the throttle shut in the corners. Tyres need to be in good shape, though they last better than expected, over 12000 miles a set. The bike much prefers to be set up for fast corners, giving me the feeling I was trying to pilot some large tug through fierce seas. Must pay attention.
Having said that, the few times I had to radically alter my course to avoid wandering sheep or mad drivers, the Z750 responded to the desperate inputs on the bars. It wasn't the kind of bike on which I would want to have to fight with narrow, flat bars, the wide set necessary, even though I'm quite large and muscular. You don't see many wimps riding the Z.
I suppose I should have been a bit flattered that anyone would bother to nick it, but I was enraged when I bounced out of the house and saw some wimpish looking youths trying to lever the U-lock apart with a large tyre iron. The clown tried to hit me with it when I charged him and I would have wrapped it around his neck hadn't they all run off. It's too bloody big to bounce up the steps into the house, so I'll have to be on the lookout for them in the future.
The clock now reads 83000 miles and the engine still burps along fine; general condition of the refurbished bike is still excellent. This ain't typical of the breed, they now tend more towards being £500 rats, but even then the engines are often solid enough. It's easy to write them off as fat and soft but they do surprising mileages and have a unique bit of character.
J.J.Knowles