The Bike Show, NEC, 1988, was the first time I saw the XV. She was encircled by an excess of other admirers who were also magnetised by her stunning shape. I made my way forward with disregard to all the others around me. As I moved in closer she unveiled herself to me in all her glory. My legs turned to jelly at the sight of the shining shaft drive vee-twin. Style is almost all in the custom game and Yamaha had got everything dead right. I wanted one!
Five years passed before I was able to purchase one, but it was worth the wait. The test ride confirmed the bike to be sound but a few scratches were good haggling points. I parted with £1775 for the 1990 example with 13000 miles on the already fading chrome clock. The chrome is generally crap in comparison to the old B31 I used to own, which incidentally stood in a barn for 25 years and all the chrome needed was a good polish for a Mr Sheen shine.
The XV rides very smooth with only minor vibes apparent through the feet. The model I own has straight bars which I have since modified by pulling them back a bit and adding two inches either end, giving a nice wide feel and more leverage than stock, although at just over 400lbs it's not a heavy bike for this type of device.
The seat is well padded and nicely contoured but this is all for naught due to the forward mounted pegs. A very numb bum resulted after a mere thirty miles. As for the pillion pad, I've sat on a more comfortable bag of marbles. There seems no excuse for this discomfort, after all the cruiser idiom is supposed be about laid back riding and enjoying yourself.
It didn't take me long to become used to the XV, it was a friendly old bugger that was happy to shuffle through town with the minimum of work and was generally stable over the bumps. The slimness and low centre of gravity gave a nicely assured feel and the custom geometry wasn't too extreme. Some choppers are so bad that they are rolling deathtraps.
The summer of '93 saw a tour of the Welsh coast, an excellent test for the 535 and my girlfriend's bum. With a back rest I made up out of the stock rack, the pillion perch was slightly improved and much safer as there's otherwise sod all to hang on to except for myself, of course.
From the West Midlands we headed for the Mumbles, the XV cruising effortlessly along the A-roads, bouncing over the bumps like a small boy on a spacehopper. The OE shocks are soft, so maximum adjustment was in order to cope with the added luggage, for which there's no place to stack it, so with heavy bags over our shoulders it was a great relief to stop and collapse. Ground clearance limited cornering but it was quite easy to cut and thrust through both bends and cars. As a steady cruiser on straight roads with no cornering to occupy my mind, the lack of comfort meant any excuse was welcomed for a stop and hobble around.
We worked our way along the coastal roads, camping every night at a different spot. Eventually ending up at Harlech some 400 miles later, the Yamaha didn't miss a beat. It could have done ten times the distance but I certainly couldn't have survived. At the end of the holiday I felt like a saddle-sore cowboy with piles!
Under those circumstances, it was just as well that it was all plain sailing. The vee-twin motor purrs into life easily at the tickle of the button and the carb mounted choke can be knocked off after half a mile. For a cubic capacity of 535cc there's bags of low down torque for overtaking the caged species without having to change down from top, pulling along strongly all the way up to the ton, the riding position playing havoc with my shoulder muscles. 70mph cruising was only just tolerable for an hour or so.
Fuel averages 55mpg but as the tank only holds three gallons a fill up is needed around 125 miles as the reserve tap is dubious. The tap is worked by a switch on the handlebars which is often ruined by the elements, so there's a big chance that it won't work. This can be fun when the engine stutters to halt just as some cages are about to run you down. When that happens get off the road, bank the bike over to the left until the petrol pump has filled the carb with what fuel's left in the tank. Then onward about a mile, repeat the procedure and wait for a petrol station to appear.
Another horror turned up when I had a rear tyre puncture. Removing the wheel proved impossible on my own. It's a three man job due to the lack of a centrestand. Two men have to lift the back end whilst the other dislodges the wheel from the shaft. On the road it's best to fill a deflated tyre with Finilec or the like.
The vee-twin engine has been around for long enough to sort out any problems and they are generally strong for the first 50,000 miles. Automatic adjustment of the camchain tensioner keeps them rattle free and tappet adjustment is simple screw and locknut, although it can be difficult to access them unless the carbs are whipped off. The last time I took the tank off to do this I decided a respray was in order - metallic turquoise.
The brakes are more than adequate, as I'm used to old Japs a combination of single front disc and rear drum were not going to cause me any problems. The rear drum lacks feel and periodically needs all the asbestos dust cleaned out. The front disc even works well in the wet, so the XV is surprisingly safe in an English winter. Often, I could just rely on engine braking as knocking off the throttle was amazingly effective at losing speed. This, and the directness of the shaft drive, could prove troublesome in slow riding in town when the XV would try to imitate a Kangaroo! A sensitive right hand and a bit of time to become used to the bike is all that's needed to eradicate this trait.
The XV535 proved cheap to run, not churning through tyres or pads and turning in about 55mpg. Oil changes are every 3000 miles and oil filters cost only £5. I change the plugs, airfilter (£6) and shaft drive oil once a year. The latter has none of the nastiness of a BMW boxer and it'd be very churlish not to give it new oil occasionally. It would be very hard to go back to the rigours of a chain after the civilisation of a shaft.
People might compare the XV to a Harley Davidson but the small Yam starts, stops and handles much better but costs loads less. Also, insurance doesn't cost the earth as it's under 600cc - I paid £138 for a Rider Policy (TPFT).
I am very happy with its performance, reliability and its slim looks. After 21000 miles the engine still feels tight, which given the mileage is pretty amazing. The older style of Yamaha four strokes didn't have the best build quality. SR pistons, for instance, being infamous for disintegrating but the vee-twins seem jolly tough for a simple OHC design.
The low centre of gravity and light weight makes it very manageable in traffic, something, along with its low seat height, that makes it very popular with female riders. There's also minimal depreciation, losing only £750 over the first year compared to the ZZR1100's £3000! The same model has been produced for over six years, so spares are readily available. Because of their style many are not hard ridden, most are well looked after and there's no reason why you shouldn't go for an early one for around £1500.
Steve Sewell
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I admit to fitting the description of a born-again biker to a tee. I sold my last bike, a CB400F, back in 1980 and since then the familiar route of car, wife, house and children had come along in slow succession. Fourteen years passed me by before the biking embers, I had long thought to have gone cold, suddenly re-ignited themselves and I found myself one day in a local newsagent buying a motorcycle magazine...
A month later I was the proud owner of an eight month old Yamaha XV535, only 480 miles on the clock and a grand off the list price (with some haggling) in the local dealer. Behaving like a five year old on Christmas day, I was all set to go. Now, fourteen years without riding a bike may or may not sound like a lot. Believe me, the first five minutes of riding seemed like a lifetime!
The memory of riding the 400/4 and the actuality of riding a 535 were the proverbial chalk and cheese. Where's the revs, and how the hell do you steer it, and what were my feet doing out there in front of me? A roundabout 50 yards from the dealers was the first obstacle, taken at 10mph. Very worrying. A stop for a fag and petrol was called for (though not together).
With a full tank and a few more miles under my belt I began to relax and then later to get cold. It was a bright April evening but I'd genuinely forgotten just how cold you get riding an unfaired bike. By the time I'd covered the thirty-odd miles home, I was already having serious second thoughts about what should be worn on such a bike. Forget the posing that the thing invites you to do and just concentrate on staying warm.
April turned to May, the beginning of a very hot summer. Now the joy of riding am XV on a balmy summer's evening along deserted country roads is one that defies description. The stresses of the day melt away, the feeling of total freedom is intoxicating and the sound of the vee twin mill fills your ears. Emotional stuff but all very true.
In addition, I joined the local Virago Owners Club (VOC) whose twice monthly gatherings regularly attracted 20 to 30 bikes at a nearby pub, and where the depth of technical knowledge on the Virago was stunning. The beer was pretty good as well.
As we all know, the summer of '95 was a bit of a blinder. Day after day of hot sunshine meant I rode the bike most days or evenings but three highlights from that summer do stand out. The first was a whole Sunday spent at Beaulieu at a motorcycle show. Leaving home early in the morning brought me to the edge of the New Forest by half past nine. Riding through the forest the number of bikes increased steadily until every road was full of them. The parking areas were already almost full when I arrived, and still they kept coming.
The weather, the sideshows, the museum, the displays, the sound of bikes and the good humour of all the bikers combined to make it a glorious day. Riding back up the M3 afterwards, in the company of a dozen homeward bound bikes, the true appeal of riding a motorcycle like the Virago became crystal clear and you can only feel sorry for those who have never felt the urge.
My second highlight of the summer was a long weekend trip to France. I rode down to Portsmouth on the Thursday evening to catch the overnight ferry to Cherbourg. I'd dressed for a long journey but had to stop after only 20 minutes to peel off a couple of layers as the night was hot and humid.
Arriving, still relaxed, at the ferry terminal, I joined up with half a dozen other bikers in the car park, and we were all shepherded on to the ferry together. Rope lashings and lumps of foam were provided but we had to secure the bike ourselves. With a calm crossing this presented no worries but I could imagine that rough seas might see one or two nervous riders hanging around close to the car decks, especially on well finished bikes like the XV.
The ferry arrived at Cherbourg at 6am, just as the dawn was coming up. I rode off the ferry and down the deserted city streets until I found myself cruising down a quiet, dead straight main road in the middle of the French countryside. Although the day promised to be a scorcher, at that time of the morning it was still cool, with a bit of a mist around. After an hour, I stopped for a coffee in a small village square. A number of school children gathered around the bike, admiring their reflections in the mass of chrome which made me believe that all my polishing had not been in vain.
The rest of the day passed all too quickly as the bike cruised happily at 70 to 75mph down perfect roads. Finding the ideal speed on a 535's not easy as it tends to vary a bit. Ride at under 70mph and it's easy to doze off with the lack of wind noise, the laid back riding position and the quiet rhythmic engine. Over 80mph requires a vicelike grip, gladiator sized muscles and a good set of ear defenders.
Five days were spent riding around Brittany which before the start of the holiday season proper, was a mass of quiet roads and near deserted beaches, all under a glorious hot sun. The ride back was a sheer delight as I took the coast road up the Cherbourg Peninsular. I passed only six cars in over forty miles of smooth, level, gently sweeping roads and all with the sea glinting on my left side. I could've ridden the Yam forever!
The third highlight of the summer was attending the Yamaha weekend festival at Donnington Park. Due to baby-sitting commitments, I only left home late on the Saturday afternoon. However, the warm air made for an easy ride around Oxford up the M1. I arrived just after 7pm. The designated campsite was full, overflow sites set up in the main car parks. In one I found a group of Virago owners from Cambridge, who welcomed me as one of their own and I set up camp alongside them.
Setting up camp is a loose description...hammering six inch tent pegs into earth baked harder than concrete with a crude lump of stone proves there is a price to pay for a long, hot summer. Saturday night was party night with a live band, far too much beer, a good BBQ and a truly laid back feel.
I went to bed a happy man, that is until one in the morning when some total plonker tried to blow up his RD350 engine by holding its throttle wide open for twenty minutes. The bike expired not unsurprisingly but at least silence descended again.
The first arrival at East Midlands airport's 5.30am. This is a fact noted by its passing 50 feet over the Donnington car park. Who needs an alarm clock? A misty Sunday morning with a pale blue sky and a bike parked outside the tent discouraged a lie-in. Having purchased too much beer and BBQ the previous evening, a quick ride to Ashby-de-la-Zouch was called for in search of a hole in the wall.
By 10am bikes were arriving at Donnington in their hundreds. My next appointment of the day was with the exhaust scrutineers in preparation for permission to ride around the track. A decibel test was rendered useless by another Airbus thundering overhead on its final approach but at least I was through. Long queues followed, leading up to the Yamaha mechanics who tested brakes, frame, suspension, etc, before allowing the bike to enter the track.
After an hour, or so, I was in the pit lane, the only Virago amongst a host of FZR's. The marshal's flag waved us out on to the track and we were away. The next fifteen minutes were the most terrifying, exciting and exhilarating that I've ever spent on a bike. It takes a couple of laps to get the hang of the track but even more importantly to realise what it's surface will allow you to do with a bike.
Grinding the pegs becomes too easy and braking hard can punish the front forks. Acceleration's improved, which on the straights allowed the Virago to touch 100mph on several occasions. Accepting the fact that I was lapped by every other bike on the course, it was still a great experience; one that I repeated twice more that day even though the queues to get on the track were longer on each occasion.
The VOC was only one of the many clubs represented, along with a host of side shows and exhibitors but at least it was a focus for the Virago owners and well over a hundred bikes were parked alongside its tent. A great bunch of people from all over the country with some quite magnificent machines.
The day ended all too soon and I found it a wrench leaving for the 150 mile ride back south. I had company for a lot of the way from a variety of other bikes but by the time I hit the M3 was on my own again, burbling along in the warm summer evening. Just a really great day.
Now love them or hate them, the Virago 535 can't be ignored. Consistently one of Yamaha's best seller's around the world, including the UK, for over eight years now, ownership of one will rapidly show you why! I rode some 4000 miles during the summer and my only gripes are minor ones - a clunky gearchange when cold (and I mean CLUNKY); a useless pillion seat whose only redeeming factor was that it looked right; no centrestand which is a real pain for servicing; and a small petrol tank.
On the plus side the list is endless. Shaft drive, reasonable rider comfort, better handling than the average factory custom, very reliable, plenty of torque; all with head turning looks.
Ian Perrott