100 miles into a Grand Tour of Europe, still in France (not surprisingly) my backside began to ache. It started as a slight irritation and rapidly became an intolerable intrusion into my enjoyment as another 20 miles passed. Part of the 1100's Katana's brutal looks is a skimpy seat and radical riding position that stretches you out as if on the rack. I had only owned the bike for a couple of days so this was my first long ride.
Pulling over to the side of the deserted road I pulled myself off the Kat as best I could. Leaping up and down, walking around, for a few minutes eased the torture. As relief crept into my already weary body, I listened to the big four's motor tick over with what I was sure had not been there before, a low grumbling noise that came from the crankshaft area.
Perhaps buying a seven year old bike with 76300 miles on the clock wasn't such a good idea....the youth who had owned it assured me that it had been treated gently because he was too frightened of the power. Maybe the huge grin of relief on has face when he took my GS450 in part exchange had other causes.
Suitably restored and paranoid, I leapt back on to the Katana and was not amused when I could hear the noise increase as I revved the motor. I had not even had time to open her up to see what she would do, the most I'd got on the clock was 90mph, a speed when the engine gave every impression of just ticking over in supreme repose. I knew from a few inadvertent wheelies in lower gears that a bit higher up the rev counter all hell broke loose as the DOHC engine came on cam.
I decided to carry on and see if the motor became noticeably worse. 30 miles down the road what had been a very smooth machine started churning out the vibes. Every time I went over 4000rpm a horrible noise came from the engine and the footpegs shook like they were loose. Naturally, I pulled over again. I didn't fancy doing an engine strip in the middle of nowhere, had no recovery insurance and saw nothing for it but to head back home slowly.
What a let down. I ran along at 35 to 40mph, the throttle just off the stop. The engine did not feel very happy but I urged her on. It did 60 miles under that regime, I was so worried that I forgot all about the pain in the nether regions. After that the engine started smoking badly and by the time I reached Calais it was pouring out clouds of smoke like some ancient stroker. The only good bit of luck I had on that trip was that I reached the ferry with minutes to spare. I live just outside Dover so that part of the trip was easy enough. The next day I took a closer look at the motor. There was oil seeping out of many engine joints as if the whole thing had overheated and distorted. Great! I also found that many of the bolts had been wired in position, a sure sign that at some time it had been raced. It took me most of the day to free the engine from the frame, it was one heavy beast and I must have pulled a muscle in my back - the next day I was in agony when I woke up.
Two weeks later I was sufficiently recovered to tear the engine down. I wish I hadn't bothered. The main bearings were shot, the crankshaft was twisted, the piston rings were shattered and the bores scarred. The only things that were okay were the top end and the gearbox - they both looked perfect. I started phoning around the breakers. Two months later I finally found an engine that was still in a frame and could be heard running. I paid the man an exorbitant sum and was soon the proud owner of a running Katana again.
The new engine came from a chassis with 42000 miles up and was even wilder than the old one. It'll pull frightening wheelies in the lower gears with hardly any effort. In top gear it comes on cam with a wild growl at 100mph and shoots up to an indicated 130mph without any problems. Another 10mph can be wrung from the beast on a long, smooth straight but the chassis feels awful and the slightest bump will put her into a real wobble. The way the power comes in is as grin inducing as the chassis wobbles are underpant soiling!
The Katana sits on conventional twin rear shocks, Konis in this case, and my bike had the added advantage of a trick alloy swinging arm. The tyres were Pirellis in good condition. Even so, it was a wild beast to ride down bumpy main roads - it's such a heavy thing with slow turning steering that I never bothered with B roads - the suspension just can't control so much mass.
Speed wobbles were common if you went above 110mph and even between 90 and 110mph they were not as rare as they should've been, especially if you hit a big bump or something to set it off.
It's not all bad news, as long as you keep the Kat below 90mph it's a stable bike that can be ridden along at a reasonable pace without too many problems. It does turn slowly into curves and you need to exert a bit of muscle to show it who's in charge. Slow curves were a bit frightening at first because it tended to drop into the bend with disconcerting rapidity.
Similarly, whacking on the front brake when banked over makes the bike want to sit upright. Backing off the throttle or using the back brake was a much safer way of losing some speed in curves.
The next problem was the front twin discs. These were powerful, no doubting that, but they lacked feel and would occasionally lock up the front wheel under the mildest of pressure whilst most of the time they needed a white finger grip for rapid retardation. I wasn't very surprised when the calipers seized up, for the back had gone a few days earlier. Made from cheap alloy, it had all corroded together and the bleed screws just snapped off when I tried to undo them.
In the end I had to raid the breakers for a full set of calipers, pads, etc. Pad life was about the same as that of the tyre wear - 3000 to 4000 miles depending on the level of abuse. The cheapo chain (the only sort I could afford to buy) also went at this time, although sprockets didn't seem to wear at all. Also, if the engine wasn't given a full service every 3000 miles it started misbehaving, cutting out or running very rough. As I was doing 3000 miles a month the bike took a large chunk out of my salary cheque. My only consolation was economy, which for such a big and heavy bike was quite reasonable - 45 to 55mpg.
The worst figure occurred in town riding, the bike became distinctly unhappy like some finicky Wop triple. It was too heavy to haul around cars, the only fun I had was GP starts where I could wheelspin and fishtail off the line. As the grunt came in I always had a wide grin on my face. I've never come across a bike that could accelerate like the Katana, nothing can keep up with it to 80mph. I did 23000 miles without too many problems but marriage and a woman who refused to go on the Katana's pillion after the first 50 mile ride meant the bike had to go.
It's not really suitable if you want to commute or despatch or even tour as it's so uncomfortable. They are popular for drag racing, which I think is what ruined my first engine, so you have to be careful who you buy a bike off. They are fun, though, look very butch indeed and have a grin factor of 10!
L.K.M.
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I sit here fondly reminiscing about the most bullet-proof bike I've ever had the pleasure of owning. And I've owned a lot of motorcycles...I'm even thinking about joining Bike-alcoholics Anonymous! The bike's my 1100 Katana. The first time I saw one was in a magazine, then just a concept bike which, to me, looked all wrong - too angular and ill-proportioned. But when I later saw one in the flesh in Basildon, it really caught my eye. Awesome was an understatement. I had to have one but didn't have the dosh.
Later, a friend had one in his garage, which I don't think he liked at all. The three and a half year old bike looked very rough, worn tyres, shagged out chain, blown fork seals, plenty of side-play in the swinging arm, dented tank and lack of MOT. But only 8k on the clock and the engine sounded very good. He wanted to sell and I wanted to buy, after a lot of haggling we settled on £1000. All the dosh I had in the world!
The ride home, about 15 miles, was not in the least bit inspiring. Heavy, cumbersome, skittish above 80mph, but extremely powerful and very frightening. I was used to sit up and beg style bikes, so the racer crouch felt awkward and strange. Further disappointment from the wife's dismay at all our money disappearing on this big silver thing that obscured the front path.
I had to sort the bike out a bit at a time. I'd forgotten how much consumables cost. It took about three months to sort the tyres, new Metz ME's, new chain, replace the fork seals, new swinging arm bearings, fresh oil (which looked like it hadn't been changed from new). The wheels were sprayed gold, all the plastic bits and the tank were sprayed red and the engine black. The Katana looked different and it looked good. I put in new disc pads, headed off for the MOT.
No problems, straight through, then skint myself again on insurance, but at last I could use the beast, and the grin factor was enormous. The engine had incredible torque, would pull easily from 20mph in fifth, to an indicated speed of just over 150mph, which back in 1985 was fast!
The first journey of any real distance was when the wife and I went to Spain for our hols. I removed the small fairing and fitted a home-made rack to the fairing frame at the front, added a rear carrier, a tank-bag, throw-overs, and my wife fitted out with a huge rucksack. The rear shocks were turned up to their highest setting, and away we went.
If I took it easy the Kat turned in 50mpg, but ridden hard it was more like 30mpg, but even then the range was good because of the huge petrol tank. Considering the mass, the bike handled well. Comfort was an oversight on the Kat - you had to toughen up your bum, thanks to the rock hard seat. The riding position was fine at speed but in town or on congested roads my arms were pumped up.
We got to the Costa Dorada in three days. Guess what, it bloody rained nearly all the time we were there, so we headed back towards France and stayed in a sort of desert town with a bull ring in its centre, where pictures were displayed of the bull gorging spectators! Next, we ended up in a naturalist camp as there wasn't anywhere else to stay! Great fun!
The Kat performed excellently throughout the trip. I can't remember the exact mileage but it must have been a couple of thousand. When we arrived home we both felt very ill. I was suffering from food poisoning, and my wife was pregnant! For the next seven months I was working all the overtime going, seven days a week, thrusting the Kat through London traffic - horrendous traffic congestion.
One poor cager told me he spent five hours a day in traffic. I could get to Chelsea harbour from Basildon in the rush hour in 45 minutes, and I had a lot of fun doing it. Unfortunately, the big Kat wasn't designed for this type of travel, especially the lack of lock when turning in and out of traffic. I used to squeeze between cars; if I couldn't get through I'd put the front wheel against the back of the car, give it some throttle, ease out the clutch and push the car out of the way! Some cagers went insane at this intrusion!
The Kat was being badly abused by myself. Zero maintenance and thrashed endlessly. I was travelling to work one Saturday on the A127, when I heard this horrendous screaming sound (I thought a jet was about to land on my head). The oil light came on, the back wheel locked. I quickly pulled in the clutch and free-wheeled into a garage, bought a litre of oil, poured it in and waited about ten minutes.
Pressed the starter, the Kat fired up and off we went. By this time the Kat looked very, very rough, reading about 23000 miles, with no maintenance, no cleaning, bald tyres, shagged chain, flapping swinging arm, fork seals blown, and the original exhaust had more patches than metal...the Kat was retired to the back garden. Commuting taken up by a £25 Honda CD185 that simply wouldn't die. Well, the engine wouldn't. This suffered for about a year until I had a spare week to resurrect the Kat - new tyres, fork seals, chain, swinging arm bearings, disc pads, battery and a good mate made up a baffleless exhaust system; all finished off by a large can of matt black paint.
The Kat no longer looked like a big Kat, just looked like a big bat. I took the bike for a MOT at a little garage in East London. The tester checked everything, then asked me to start the Kat in the middle of the workshop. I thought the place was gonna fall down on us with all the noise and vibration. The tester cackled and gave me the certificate!
Back on the road, it seemed to be running as strong as it ever had. And it was pure joy to be off the little CD185 and back on the Kat. By this time I'd developed a great deal of affection for the Kat, through all this abuse it had never once let me down. Even a rear wheel puncture in the Mile End Road was instantly cured with a can of Finelic.
I must add that when everything was worn out, the handling became dangerously exciting. Tank slappers were almost an every day occurrence. With all the necessary bits renewed, it handled remarkably well. The brakes were powerful and responsive. I think it could've done with a steering damper, mainly on fast bends and at speeds over 130mph.
Consumables did wear pretty quickly, rear tyres wrecked in a little over 3000 miles; front's in about 5000 miles, drive chains around the 7000 mile mark. Fork seals popped when they felt like it, batteries lasted about 10,000 miles, swinging arm bearings in about the same mileage. The original rear shocks needed replacing at about 30,000 miles.
I had some excellent times on the Kat. Blasting just about everything off the road. Cagers think they're ultra quick until they come up against a big, brutal bike...a fella in his 944 Porsche tried to race me off the lights, just before the Bow flyover in East London. We both came over the crest of the flyover at about 80mph on a rain soaked road, to see a traffic jam halfway up the other side. The Porsche locked up, bouncing off the curb, kind of sideways. I eased down a tad and shot into a gap in the traffic.
There was one exception. Some ancient looking car with a drainpipe for an exhaust and a driver out of Biggles. I blasted past this ploddish looking car, to instantly hear this bellowing roar - I thought my exhaust had fallen off. But when I looked in the mirror, I saw this red thing inches off my back wheel. We went around a roundabout side by side, then on to a dual carriageway. Despite blasting the Kat the car shot away from me! We raced for about five miles and I only overtook him when he got caught up in traffic. I think it was some 1930's racing car.
I did come off the Kat a few times. Once on the Embankment, heading for work through the rush hour. I rode to the front of the congested cages waiting at some traffic lights. I looked over at this dick-brain in his Sierra and his equally dick-brained wife doing her make-up in his rear view mirror. The lights went amber and Mr Dick-brain drove straight into me. Over I went, completely stuck under the Kat with all these cars swerving around me in their haste to get to work. I did manage to get the bike upright, screamed off down the Embankment, jumping all the lights looking for the arsehole. But no joy. I was so pissed off I could've killed him.
Revenge, of sorts, came when I fell off when the engine cut out in traffic for no reason. I was leant over a little, enough for the lack of power to knacker me. I managed to step off whilst the bike bounced on a shiny car. The driver came running round the back of the car, screaming and shouting, then told me he'd only picked up the brand new motor eight hours previously. Personally, I couldn't give a shit, I was more worried that in my after-work, knackered state, I wouldn't be able to lift the bike upright...Would you believe it, the cager lifted the Kat off and told me not to worry about the damage, as it was a company car!
Another time, I got all the way home and forgot that I'd dug a trench all the way home and forgot that I'd dug a trench round the front garden to put in footings for a wall. I put my foot down when parking to find no floor, and toppled into my own trench, followed by an upside down Katana. This time I was really trapped, with petrol pouring all over me. The wife heard my pitiful screams and ran to get a neighbour, who was luckily built like a tank. He heaved the bike enough for me crawl out. Half the neighbours were summoned to drag the 500lbs of heavy metal out of the ditch. The only damage to myself was a very dented ego!
I fell off a couple of more times but never actually came off any faster than 5mph, and they say speed kills. The only damage was pranged mirrors, a small dent in the tank and bent footrests.
Unfortunately, with the course of time, the usual bits wore out again. I never managed to replace things as they wore, I'd just hang on until everything needed replacing so the Kat got laid up again...with three little mouths to feed, a hefty mortgage and the wife's car to keep on the road, it was hard going. That was until the wife left with the kids and started divorce proceedings. I had to sort the Kat out quickly as I was soon to be homeless!
I replaced all the usual bits, actually did a smart paint job based on the Marlborough race colours, then left my once humble abode and lodged at a mate's bungalow. It was supposed to be short term but I stayed nearly two years. I did have to replace the exhaust system again, this time with a used Yoshi drag pipe (talk about loud), also the rear shocks and front master cylinder.
Two years later it needs another respray and set of consumables. Through all the abuse the poor old Kat had suffered at my hands (mainly my right hand) it had never let me down, it has now clocked almost 40,000 miles, the only mechanical maintenance being a few oil changes, two sets of spark plugs and the carbs being stripped and cleaned once.
At present I have a GSXR1100L, which is mind blowingly fast but my 38 year old brain can't quite cope with my right hand's exuberance on this missile. I have seen 176mph on the clock and it frightened the wotsits out of me. So soon it will be goodbye GSXR and hello, yet again, my old faithful GSX1100 Katana, which I really don't think I'll ever sell - it's simply too good!
Mick
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I don't really object to gay boys, it's just that I don't want anything to do with them. I had the shock of my life when I turned up at the vendor's house. His door opened on a scene from hell - a dozen, or so, guys in G-strings and leather jackets. Thing was, I'd just bought a new leather jacket myself and looked the part. A comedy of errors followed in which I nearly decked a couple of over-enthusiastic gays. I finally saw the big Kat and was happy I'd endured the taunts.
It was polished up to a mirror shine, looked more like it'd been used in pornographic sets than on the road. Mileage was a mere nine thou and the price just £1500. I didn't even bother with a test ride after hearing the engine whirl into life first prod of the button. I just wanted to get out of there. The doc's and money were exchanged, my poor old brain being assaulted by views of unsavoury couplings.
It was a nice sunny day, fifty miles of the flat Fens to ride to get home. Ideal territory for the large, powerful Katana. The bike stills looks modern and don't let the old-fashioned aircooled four cylinder mill fool you - it's one hell of fast brute, accelerating fantastically from the ton in top gear. An indicated 150mph no problem with more to come.
When I say no problem I don't mean that the bike was perfect. Its major failing was high speed stability. Fine up to 120mph (as long as the tyres were newish and the rest of the chassis up to spec), thereafter it started to weave on smooth roads and wobble badly on rough going.
That's upright, in corners it's only really safe up to about the ton. Needing both muscle and luck to survive higher speeds or full use of the throttle. Banging it open in, say, third when banked over caused the back tyre to violently break away. It was then a question of speed of reaction versus some strong self-destruct instincts from the chassis.
Just to make life interesting, slamming the throttle shut in panic mode would sometimes, but not always, try to shake the back end to pieces. As if there wasn't enough swinging arm bearing support to fight the mass and power.
The first time I touched the front brake lever when in a corner I nearly shat myself as the front wheel reared back up to the vertical and the bike aligned itself up for a fast run into a ditch on the other side of the road. This wasn't because the twin discs were massively powerful, rather that the steering geometry was flawed.
Handling was never lightweight, the kind of bike that needed strong muscles to direct it where you wanted it to go. Halfhearted efforts rewarded with twitchy bars and close shaves with other vehicles. It was a bike that took me a few weeks to get used to, not the kind of machine to leap on to straight after passing your driving test.
On the first run home I had a couple of frightening experiences when cars tried to drive straight over me, as if I didn't exist. How could they miss a huge old thing like the Kat? I only got them back on their side of the road by giving them a flash on the headlamp. I finally figured that the silver grey paint merged stealth-like with the tarmac, rendering the Suzuki invisible if I had the sun behind me! Stupid, or what? Riding with the light on permanently was the easy solution.
Or it should've been. The infamous electrical demise afflicted my bike. It was fine if I didn't use the lights but as soon as they were employed I was down to about 50 miles before the engine started to stutter and the battery went dead. Turning the lights off saved the day. One (or even two) of the alternator's coils were burned out and the remaining one fed enough power into the system to keep up with the demands of the ignition.
I don't like electrics, it was down to the local mechanic. By the time he'd finished the bill was up to £450 - replacement alternator, coils, rectifier, wiring loom, fuse box, electronic ignition, etc. He'd originally quoted £75 for an exchange alternator and did the other work without consulting me. We had a huge row over it, he begrudgingly accepting £400. I didn't even want to pay that but it was sunny and I was desperate for some wheels. Even at £1900 the Kat was still cheap and I was lucky the electrics hadn't left me stranded in the middle of nowhere.
A week after getting the bike back it refused to start properly. Another big argument with the mechanic ensued, he reckoning it wasn't his fault. This time he was right, just a couple of duff spark plugs. He wanted fifty quid for checking the bike over and replacing the plugs. I wrote him a cheque and cancelled it at the bank! Greed-head!
From then on the only major problem I had was a lack of comfort. The seat turned to a plank after sixty miles and the shape of the tank wasn't conducive to a long and happy married life. The Kat's designed as a whole, not easy to replace any one component without ruining the total effect. The best I could do was rip the seat cover off and replace the foam with some higher density stuff. Even then a hundred miles was pushing things and the wife couldn't bear the pillion for more than fifteen minutes. As I'd hoped to take the bike touring two-up this was a pretty major flaw!
The wonderful finish was hard to keep up. The bike seemed to suck up water, salt and acid rain, only to rapidly spit out masses of corrosion. A month's worth of Autumn showers had the engine furred in white, rust breaking out of the frame and the exhaust, whilst the wheels became an impossible mess. I don't know about you, but I can never entirely trust a bike at 150mph which has wheels millimetres deep in alloy corrosion. Apart from anything else, it makes it very difficult to check for cracks.
The other problem with the wet was the way the Pirelli's skittered around under even the mildest of throttle abuse. I don't think it was the tyres' fault as such because the motor snapped out the power in such a direct, violent way that even fatter, stickier modern rubber would have had a hard time. It's dead easy to fall off the Kat on greasy city streets - make sure that engine bars are fitted otherwise damage's serious.
As it was, the two times I came off merely wrecked a couple of indicators and bent a few levers. The major hassle was righting the 500lb brute - required the help of a couple of passing, somewhat bemused, ped's! Needless to say, over winter I didn't ride the beast too much. I had a little GS125 for the commuting chores, really just fired the big Kat up a few times a week to keep it up to spec. Most of my fun - if that's the right word - came from getting the Suzuki back into immaculate trim. It can be done with a lot of elbow grease!
Don't get me wrong, in the right conditions the Kat's one hell of a ball. It's just that I had envisaged somewhat more than just using the bike on my favourite roads just for the sheer fun of it. I wanted year round commuting, two-up touring and even blitzing down autobahns at 150mph - don't know what the Krauts would make of its wobbles at those kind of speeds. I did a mere 2750 miles in nine months, which says it all. Fuel was 35 to 40mpg, the rest of the consumables failed to wear out.
Come April the Kat was put up for sale at £2500 and sold to the first guy who turned up, all agog was he at the low mileage and immaculate sheen. I pity him his first blast through our acid rain. Not a real disaster, then, but a bit of a waste for serious motor- cycling.
Kevin Driscoll