'A modern classic,' opined the dealer. 'Same engine as they're using in the new Gold Star, but half the price.' The dealer did a little bow and I was half afraid he was going to start licking my shoes, or worse. 'No we don't allow test rides,' he continued. 'But she's genuine low mileage and sounds brand new - listen to that!' I had to admit that the big thumper was wholly lacking in any rattles. I was sold!
Two weeks later all the doc's had been done, the money handed over and I was ready to go. The dealer posed languidly against the shop window as I had a go at starting her. One kick. Then another. And another...ten minutes later she boomed into life. Well, not boomed exactly, the exhaust was designed to comply with eco-conscious Japan, which meant I could barely hear the thing from the saddle.
The reason I wasn't allowed a test ride was probably because the motor's a bit of a dog. Not really vibratory, or anything, but just so slow turning it could pass itself off as a vintage relic. 28 horses from 400cc's of OHC thumper technology that's almost identical to the old SR500 - remember them?
Apart from the kind of slowness that sends you to sleep in the saddle and awkward starting, the bike was dead easy to ride. It was light, easy turning and so mild that it wouldn't scare a sixteen year old who'd never ridden anything hotter than a BMX pushbike. I twirled it through the traffic like an old pro, basking in the admiring glances of the stalled cagers and soon convinced myself that I'd bought a bit of class action rather than a dog...
This balm lasted as long as it took me to get on the motorway. You might think that 28 horses could go a long way, but not on this boyo. The M4 was awash with speeding cages despite the admirable presence of cameras, plod cars and the odd helicopter. 90mph seemed about right for the slow lane. 90mph on an SR400 really is hard work, believe me. What it takes is winding the bike up through the gears until the valves bounce and the clocks go fuzzy with the vibes. Whilst holding on to the bars with a death-grip and wondering if the designer had really meant to equip the bike with authentic seventies' wallowing.
Eventually, 90mph would actually click up, but not before the bike was nearly run down by homicidal maniacs who really couldn't believe that anything could accelerate so slowly. The engine felt like it was gasping on its last breath, the merest breeze or mildest incline had the speed dropping off rapidly. I couldn't believe the way it would go from 90mph to 75mph in a blink of the eye. Neither could Joe Cager, who judging by the melodies on the horn was hitting the roof in frustration. A couple of times I had to swerve on to the hard shoulder to avoid being run down.
So I was a stupid plonker to try to ride a classic bike like the Yam in a war-zone like the M4. Go up the Welsh hills, a little voice lilted in my mind. So I did. It doesn't take long to hit the countryside once out of Newport but, amazingly, the pigs are into heavy-duty policing and will pounce out of nowhere and do you for minor speeding, let alone the serious stuff. This is one good reason to buy a slow bike like the SR, ride in a mellow mood on the back of its thumper torque.
Again, the bike seemed to gasp when we went up near vertical inclines, needing some fast work on the fortuitously excellent gearchange. The idea that thumpers are full of torque seems much overrated to me but I guess in the SR's case the two valve head was designed when the pollution and noise laws were a lot less stringent and it's been so muted by modern laws that there's not a lotta guts getting out.
This was borne out by the frightening fuel economy, or lack thereof - 35 to 45mpg, would you believe? Okay, if I rode it like a little old lady it would improve to 55-60mpg but the consequences of such mildness was a need for a change of underwear as it isn't really safe to ride a motorcycle in the gutter. Modern road velocities are not reflected in the speed limits.
After about a month I'd explored all that the bike had to offer, which wasn't much. Handling was okay, performance was dangerously lacking on main roads and braking was merely adequate - a pair of drums at each end, would you believe? No, I didn't either until I clapped eyes on the machine. The dealer reckoned they were the business, wouldn't seize up in winter, etc. I scoffed at that, but given a bit of muscle they seemed to pull the Yam up okay. And, yes, they didn't show any signs of seizure during the winter months.
What did happen, though, was that the motor developed a bit of clutch drag, stalled at junctions in town, and then wouldn't start for about fifteen minutes. This only happened in the wet and after I'd been running around for about an hour in heavy traffic. Something overheating and shorting out, but I never did figure it out. The way around it was to avoid clutch drag by changing the engine oil every 750 miles and making sure I tweaked the throttle whilst waiting at junctions.
Starting was always a bit of a struggle, sometimes taking as long as ten minutes on the kickstart. It didn't need that hefty a kick, just a hell of a lot of them - older readers might well find themselves a bit knackered and a couple of bargains on the used market may turn up in due course, from owners disgruntled with the SR's wacky ways.
Another bit of silliness was the front headlamp, which I thought damn dangerous on unlit country roads, about on a par with an old CD175! The horn, by contrast, caused ambling pensioners to jump out of their clothes. Switches were okay except that when wearing really thick gloves in winter I found them a bit remote - I sometimes did a hand signal rather than trying to get the indicators to connect!
Comfort wasn't inspiring but it didn't intrude on hour long commutes. The footrests could have been a couple of inches further back. The saddle began to go hard after an hour, making me squirm around like I had crabs, or something. Pillions weren't impressed, and the extra mass (did I mention I weigh close to twenty stone?) of my nearest and dearest made the performance go even more somnolent than normal. The bars also went light and the front end twitched all over the place. Svelte young things will doubtless fare better - if they can start the bugger!
Now, if you think than man and machine were, perhaps, a little mismatched then you're probably right but I was rather taken by the classic sheen. I'm happy to report that most of the chassis survived a Welsh winter. The only nasty was splotches of alloy corrosion on the brake drums and a bit of surface rust on the exhaust - it all cleaned up with a dab of Solvol.
Another good point was that consumables didn't wear rapidly. In 6000 miles the surprisingly good Japlops didn't show any real signs of degeneration or wear and the chain only needed a couple of adjustments. Given the moped-like performance this is only fitting but it's quite shocking and surprising how rapidly even 125's consumables can wear out.
Come the spring it was time to move on. The bike sold easily for £2500 privately, against the purchase price of £2750, which I wasn't going to complain about as I usually drop a grand or two on buying and selling, as I usually use dealers. I felt well rid of the machine, though, as I ran out of patience after I discovered the performance limits. The replacement KLX650 is mucn more my cup of cha.
David Lewis