Suzuki GSX1100

I retired at 55, so needed something to give me an interest in life. That was three years ago and since then I have owned a 1980 Suzuki GSX1100. I did not mean to buy such a large and powerful machine; previously having owned a 650 BSA in the sixties I was looking for a 400 or 550. The local dealer was approached with this in mind, but all the small machines, even the newish ones, looked like they had been dragged through a hedge backwards and then dropped down the side of a cliff. Perhaps I exaggerate a little, but that's how they looked to me in comparison to the GSX1100, which stood in a corner all on its own.

The dealer prattled on whilst I looked the machine over, finding my memory of the various things to check coming back. By the time I'd finished the salesman was rather subdued, apparently shocked that someone so old and innocent looking could so thoroughly check over a machine. It was, apart from the engine and disc brakes, not that different to the old BSA, having a loop frame, twin rear shocks and a similar naked look.

We pushed the machine out into the street, I couldn't manage it on my own. The dealer told me all discs brakes stuck on at low speeds and I saw no reason why I should disbelieve him. The machine growled into life with impressive rapidity on the starter button - my memory was still clear of trying to start the A10 on cold mornings! It was just as well my hearing's going, because the matt black 4-1 spat out a terrible din; even the salesman leapt a foot in the air when I touched the throttle - how was I to know that engine response was so rapid, the needle was in the red before I had a chance to blink!

A brief ride up the road, keeping the tacho needle below 5000rpm was enough for me - I had to have it. I hadn't had so much fun since.....well, we won't go into that in a family magazine. The dealer agreed to fit a proper exhaust system if I was willing to pay the advertised price. A week later I was much relieved to find that the gentle burble of the standard exhaust was so subdued that I had to turn up my hearing aid.

Riding home was something else. I felt frightened out of my wits. Everything appeared to happen about ten times faster than in my car. Touching the brake lever had the forks down on their stops and the tyre screeching in dismay. Opening the throttle a little produced a massive kick in the back. Progress was a series of lurches until I persuaded the gearbox up into fourth and started using engine braking and the rear brake for the slow speed work. It didn't help that the gearbox and brake lever were the wrong way around compared to the old British bikes.

A few hundred miles of riding got me used to the basic mechanics. Various acquaintances grudgingly admitted that it was an impressive machine but the sidelong glances gave the impression they thought I was a bit past it. Nothing could be further from the truth; I was having the time of my life! Not that I was going very fast or taking big risks. The sheer freedom that the machine gave, the way I could just go straight through traffic jams or the way I could hurl the bike along fast A roads was a revelation....anyone who rides a bike knows what I mean.

I kept waiting for the bike to go wrong. There were already 24000 miles on the clock, judging by the state of the virgin engine screws it had never been stripped down. I could recall doing a rebuild on the BSA every 6 months! The manual I bought suggested the oil should be changed every 1000 miles, which I did, but the rest of it seemed to whirr away with total reliability - it all looked so complex that I decided to leave well alone. Amateur mechanics can do more harm than good.

In the first 3000 miles I hadn't gone above 6000 revs, which in top was already pushing dangerously past the motorway limit. I had, at times, felt the bike trying to lurch forward but had always backed off. I wanted to get back into the swing of things before I tried to push the bike too hard. On one early morning trip the motorway was absolutely deserted and I couldn't resist it.

The ton came up with such absurd ease, and no vibes, that I was astonished. Then the machine seemed to enter another powerband and took off with even more ferocity. The bike started to weave with 120mph on the clock, vibes started pouring in, so after a brief excursion to 130mph I hastily backed off. I never went faster than this, although I am sure that there was yet more power to come.

The bike came with a new set of Michelins and the dealer had pointed out the better aftermarket shocks and heftier swinging arm, so I suppose it was a much better set up than standard. At 550lbs it was heavy to throw around but seemed basically secure to me. The ride was certainly better than the spine rattling I recall the BSA used to give. At 6'2" I am on the tall side and thus able to adequately cope with the girth and tallness of the GSX1100, smaller mortals may have troubles, although I did see a young lady on one who had to lean over at a standstill to get a boot on the floor - she was a lot braver than I.

One thing leads to another, having enjoyed short rides on the Suzuki I decided to plan a three week excursion. It was here that one of the GSX's problems came to light. When the bike came to me all its consumables were as new, in less than 4000 miles they were all in need of replacement. As I wanted to do more than that mileage in the three weeks I had to buy two sets of chains and pads; the tyres I would replace en route if necessary.

The bike ran around Germany, France and Spain without any problems, apart from the consumables and oil changes every five days! Fuel consumption worked out at 48mpg against 45mpg in more normal riding, oil consumption between changes was minimal. I've mixed feeling about the expense involved in doing high mileages - on the one hand the very reliable engine encouraged huge mileages whilst on the other something like a BSA 650 would not have allowed a fraction of the distance to be covered. The solution was obvious, I suppose, I should have bought a smaller bike as I had originally intended, as I did not use a fraction of the GSX's potential performance.

But there was something about the big Suzuki that appealed to me. The sheer solidity of its construction gave the impression that she would run around the clock a few times without requiring anything more than a regular oil change. At low speeds the deep grumble from the engine was so contented that it inspired a laid back attitude. I know if I was younger and wilder that I would have used the frenzied acceleration of the higher rev range more and more, but the bike was just at home as a plodder as it was as a hot rod.

I can recall what used to happen to old British twins when they were tuned for high power - they spat back, vibrated crazily and were pratically impossible to ride at lower speeds. The progress the Japanese have made in engine civility is amazing even on what, these days, is a very old design of motorcycle. I had no qualms about going up steep hills in top gear on minimal revs....I could spend many a happy hour seeing how slow I could go in a tall gear before the transmission started crunching. It was a great to feel the torque pulsing through the chassis as the engine pulled the bike up some near vertical incline.

I can afford to run the GSX1100 so I see no reason to sell her at the moment. The engine purrs away contentedly and as the bike is cleaned every week it looks as good as when I bought it. I can imagine that younger readers could have delivered a much more derogatory account of the Suzuki, but for me, after so many years off bikes, it really is a sheer delight to ride and to look at.

George Golding

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Having become used to various race replicas it came as a bit of a shock to find myself battered, once again, as in my youth, by the fierce airstream that these big retros are capable of producing. Anyone who tries to sustain 120mph for more than a few moments on Suzuki's GSX1100G will begin to question the cleverness of putting style over substance.

In fact, very little clever technology has been applied to any of the retros and it's possible to take some old seventies or early eighties big Yamaha, Kawasaki, Suzuki or Honda four, apply a few tuning tricks to the engine, add some decent suspension and, if necessary, even brace the frame, to produce a machine that is lighter, goes faster and handles just as well. And costs a lot less, just to add insult to injury.

The trick with the old mammoths was to try to lose weight and stiffen up the suspension. Neither were those sickles about sensibly tuned engines, when they were the hottest bikes on the road it was about extracting every last ounce of power to make rivals eat exhaust fumes. These new retros are aimed at the sensible, sane riders who are believed to exist in reaction to the current economic demise......even if they did exist they certainly wouldn't pay the crazy prices demanded. My feeling is that the punters want maximum madness for the minimum of dosh. On the other hand, Harley have done well out of the style wars.....

A friend had bought a new 1100 Suzi, done a quick run in and was so impressed that he would bore the faecal matter out of anyone willing to listen to his highway tales aboard the bright and shiny GSX. I had to admit I liked its looks, noise and feel (just sat on it). After a bit of arm twisting, it was mine for a long weekend.

The bike is disgustingly heavy for a nineties machine, getting on for 600lbs with the tank full. This actually translates into a surprisingly secure feel at low speeds. Burbling through town I was quite taken with its easy going nature. Bags of torque, a slick gearbox and plenty of feedback in the controls.

I was swiftly brought back to reality when I tried to wedge the Suzi through a tiny right-angled gap in the traffic. The motor is one wide piece of alloy, engine bars a necessary accessory to avoid written off cranks. This, combined with the way the bike fell into the manoeuvre as I jerked sharply on the bars, caused the hulk to fall over into the corner of the car, putting a huge amount of mass on my trapped leg.

The car driver was furious at this attack on his prized possession. Judging by the way he was leaping up and down he was poorly hung and took the unfortunate incident as an insult to his manhood. Eventually, a couple of other cagers helped haul the bike off my leg and his car. I must admit the huge dent in his wing looked rather expensive; my leg had saved my friend's machine from any serious damage. The police turned up before I did a runner. Lost a whole hour to their inquisition and paperwork.

I blamed the bike's mass rather than my incompetence. I had planned a 600 mile hustle up my favourite A-roads, but had second thoughts and hit the motorway instead. I figured that it would be a lot less taxing, which only shows how wrong you can be. Slicked up to top gear as soon as I hit the fast lane, with no need to play footsie on the gearchange lever. With 50mph on the clock, the Suzuki will roar off with nary a moment's hesitation. There's enough power to give the shoulder muscles a work-out all the way up to an indicated 125mph.

Higher speeds were certainly possible - I put 145mph on the speedo in one particular moment of madness - but hardly worth the effort and certainly not tolerable for more than a few minutes. The riding position is what used to be called sporting but now passes for sensible. Fine for anything up to 90mph in cruising mode but three figure speeding leads to massive pains in the shoulders, arms and wrists. However, it's a good compromise, for town riding is a doddle with none of the cramps or pains engendered by the now normal race replica riding crouch. If you only have one machine that has to do everything then the retros are clear winners in the rideability stakes.

Stability was excellent. The front forks were able to cope with the slight undulations in the motorway's surface and whilst the Kawa 1100 Zephyr's twin shocks were better than the Suzuki's mono-shock, with everything turned up high there was a minimum of wallowing even in 90mph bends. The large mass probably aided the stately feel of the ride. As did the lack of the vibes from the oil cooled, DOHC four cylinder engine. It becomes a bit vicious once past 120mph, but that hardly matters as those kinds of speeds are not sustainable for any length of time.

Unfortunately, as I had plenty of time to muse by the side of the road after being stopped when doing 95mph, the mirrors are badly designed bits of junk that only give a partial rearwards view when they are not afflicted by the vibes. They get very frenzied between 70 and 105mph, so that all I saw of the cop car was a blurred bit of white and blue.

I'd earlier nearly ridden off the road when I caught a glimpse of a white car behind when I was doing the ton. That turned out to be a civilian but required an awkward backward glance to ascertain, causing the Suzi to career off towards the armco.

The cops were in a good mood, having just apprehended a Lotus at 130mph. I told them I was just keeping up with the traffic flow, being new to the bike didn't realise how fast I was going....the smoothness and civilized manners of the Suzi catching me out (which was actually quite near the truth). They lectured me for about ten minutes and then, much to the relief of my licence, let me on my way with strict warnings not even to think about speeding on their motorway ever again.

That was after an enjoyable 120 mile, eighty minute blitz along the motorway. I was a bit surprised to have to start looking for fuel so soon. Worked out at only 30mpg. I took the opportunity to make for some A-roads, having regained my confidence in the machine after experiencing its rock-steady stability. Again, the top gear torque came in handy, enabling me to race between lines of cars without going ape on the gearbox. For most of the time I was stringing the bike out to around 90mph, not needing to slow down too much for the faster bends. More than anything else, I was impressed with its handling and chuckability.....if only they could dump a hundred pounds then it would be as good as any race replica on the road.

The only component of the chassis that I could really find fault with was the front forks. A couple of times I judged the traffic wrongly, had to brake very harshly whilst doing a rapid change of direction. The kind of cut and thrust manoeuvre that lighter bikes would just shrug off had the poor old Suzi down on its stops with a frightful amount of juddering and screaming from the front end. The GSX still held its line but the machinations filled me with the idea that under some desperate conditions the bike would flip right out. On the other hand, I would not even contemplate such manoeuvres on most other bikes of such girth and mass.

The hefty nature of the beast showed up in rapid wear of the consumables. By the time I'd added 1500 miles to the clock the mileometer was reading 6750. The front pads had lost most of their brake material, and the OE tyres were down to 3mm. It didn't rain so I had no chance of testing them out in the wet, but they showed no signs of nastiness in the dry. Only the shaft drive provided an easy escape from high running costs - at a certain price, for rolling off the throttle in corners that turned bumpy would set up a bit of juddering in the rear end.

Another aspect of the mass is trying to park the bugger in awkward locations. I once slid into a parking slot which sloped downwards slightly. The combination of dragging discs and 600lbs proved almost impossible to push back out. Only another biker giving a shove on the bars saved me from dislocating my back. After that experience I stopped laughing at the Honda GL1500's reverse gear.

By way of contrast, it was dead easy to roll on to the centrestand, whose prong never came close to digging a hole out of the ground when into seriously fast cornering. I think the only time that anything would touch down is when the tyres lose their grip. The only time that happened to me was when the aforementioned braking locked up the forks, the wheel then hitting a series of bumps with nowhere to go but into slide mode. A serious amount of muscle on the bars saved us from eating tarmac and sent severe heart palpitations through my body.

A-road work was more relaxed than such madness might suggest. Mainly down to the gobs of torque, the sensible riding position and the less than frenetic nature of the mill. My first day's ride totalled nearly 600 miles. I was still in a relatively relaxed frame of mind, my backside was only slightly numb and the bike ticked over smoothly enough to suggest that it had just had its first service. Fuel on the A-roads had improved slightly to around 35mpg but it was only under the mildest of throttle abuse that it breached the 40mpg barrier. Those kind of figures are not what you'd call progress after nearly two decades of making big fours!

I was also a bit miffed by its two-up performance. Admittedly, my mate was going on 200lbs but still I had thought such a mild mannered motor would shake off even such mass. But, no, top gear proved very sluggish until the ton was on the clock. I was forced to use the lower ratios to maintain a decent pace. The seat was also a bit short to contain his massive frame, causing me to slide up into the tank to avoid an unholy pact.

The rear shock did not take kindly to this pillion, either, becoming all hot and bothered after about five miles. The weaves got so bad that I had to stop, turn everything up to its highest setting and hint to my friend that it was time he went on a diet. Handling improved but was nowhere near as impressive as when solo. Time will probably have a similar effect on the shock, so serious, long term owners would be advised to start saving up their pennies for a decent replacement. My pillion also reported some vibes through his pegs, which became worse with revs.

Once freed of the pillion, the bike felt totally transformed, as if someone had put nitro in the tank. The more I rode the Suzi the more I liked it, the more I explored its possibilities the more I admired its engineering and the more I looked over its external surface the greater did the delight in its appearance become. The 1100 proved something of a head turner when parked up in town with all kinds of know-alls coming up, claiming to have owned one just like it in their youth. Sure, sure.

I suppose the big question is would I hand over a large wedge for one. Er, no! Not yet, anyway. Two grand's the most I'd pay for a newish motorcycle and big Suzukis are not yet down in that range. They should last a long time, with their tough, mildly tuned engines and aerodynamics that discourage mad riding.

I would never buy a new one. As much as I enjoyed my time with the 1100, their basic design is so fundamentally flawed that Suzuki don't deserve to pick up on my hard earned wedge. Fuel consumption is rotten and mass far too high. If they put in the same care and thought into the design as Honda did with their CBR900, then I'm sure the mass could go down to 450lbs and the fuel better 50mpg. That would be a modern retro.

Mick Allen

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Bloody typical. I'd just bought the Suzuki GS500E to commute on when my mate decided to get rid of his GSX1100. The 500 was dead boring, it was a bargain, got me to work, was economical, was in good nick, cheap to run; great, but dead boring.

The 1100 by comparison was heavy, thirsty, noisy and impossible in the wet, but I just had to have it. My mate was short of cash, so just 2400 notes got me the 1989, last of the line, 1135cc monster Suzuki, complete with American exhaust and Dyno-jet conversion.

Even parked, the damned thing looked like it was doing the ton. You know, the usual high tail cut rear end, the open mega style pipe.....and when it was running it was absolutely the dog's bollocks. From the book, early 1100 Suzukis chucked out about 90 horses and with various model changes the power had risen to this variant, with 135 gee-gees, the aforementioned mods probably boosting the bottom end.

One of the many previous owners had fitted Aeroquip hoses, and had cut out some foam from the seat so brakes were shit hot and you could sit in the armchair seat with feet on the floor. The power was immense, I've ridden some quite fast stuff but this was outrageous.

For example, I was cruising down the outside of the traffic on my way home, one damp evening, and passed the filth stuck in the queue. At a set of lights further down the road, I looked in the mirror - horrors, coming up behind with blue lights on, they're coming to get me. God Knows what for (probably for enjoying yourself - Ed), perhaps the race track pipe. Lights change and I'm off, no worries I'll zip past the big lorry and pull a left, they'll go right on past. Too big a handful of throttle made the back end go crazy. Eased off just enough to find some grip and away we go.

I didn't use that route home for weeks and learnt to be a little more careful with the gas, but in the wet it was damn near impossible to get the power down. The rear tyre was a Pirelli Demon and turned out to be the same size as fitted to modern replicas with less than 100 neddies, so the problem was pretty obvious. Skinny tyres plus monster motor equals mega wheelspin.

Like the time I visited my uncle in Oxford. I decided to use the A5 and have fun on the way. Again, it was a bit damp. Doing 80mph, going for the overtake, down to fourth and wind it on. Can you believe the bastard let loose at the back end. To be fair, it never stepped right out, which might've been my reactions in shutting everything down, and it always kept pretty much on a straight course. Or it could be that I always made sure I was upright and going straight before I gassed it.

Top end? God knows. I got her to 135mph, but with high bars and no fairing that was more than flesh and blood could stand. Suffice to say, it was still going and probably good for 150mph. That trip to Oxford was a fun ride. On the way there I had a dice with some twat in a Merc. Eat dirt, sucker. Ha, ha. On the way back I had to let a fast Capri go, I just couldn't see where the hell I was going, with all the shit and spray on the road I had to flip up my visor and then, as they say, shit gets in your eyes.....

Also on that trip I decided to get home quick on the motorway. Boring, I know, but fast. A steady 110mph with eyes on the mirrors. As I hit a slip road to pull off I became aware that I was running on only three cylinders. It was fine before, as always pulling like a train so I figured a plug had died a death and limped home. Even on a mere three cylinders it had loads of balls, it just sounded a bit off, especially below 3000 revs.

New plugs didn't cure it, so my mates and I all played doctors, trying to figure out what was wrong. In the dark, the HT leads were tracking so they were changed. The design connecting the HT leads to the coil was crap, the stupid plastic lugs breaking off. New leads didn't help cure the problem, although the engine would still start and run well enough to use in the daily commute; it just left me a bit wary of burning off the filth.

Plug number four was wet. Simple deduction, something wrong with that cylinder. Nothing for it, the head had to come off. I am a qualified mechanic, but it was still a job I wasn't keen on. Full marks to Suzuki on making the thing idiot proof. The head bolts all marked and numbered, the cams fully identified. I had hoped to find something simple like a broken rocker arm, or a cam follower amiss. But I didn't so the head had to come off.

The GSX was supposed to have four valves per cylinder but there was one missing! One of the inlet valves had a nice neat chunk missing out of it. Thank God there was no other damage. The valve must've chipped on the motorway and spat out the piece. There is a God! New valve, new head gasket and off we go. Apparently, such a demise is very rare, these motors are more usually absolutely bullet-proof.

So, what else is there to know about theses brutes? They are afflicted with the usual sticking calipers. A quick tip, if you go for Aeroquip hoses don't use alloy unions - in eighteen months they will corrode away, thanks to the nastiness of brake fluid - this could prove a terminal fault if they crack up during a high speed stop! I was lucky, mine fell apart when I dismantled the rear to cure the seized calipers but it was obviously cracked.

Beware of non-standard exhausts, too, many of them limit ground clearance, as did mine on the right which turned the normally stable GSX1100 into a lurching monster when it dug into the tarmac - hard riders can wear through pipes before they corrode through. The GSX is also sensitive to carburation and needs to be rejetted when fitted with a non-standard 4-1 exhaust.

Other problems, like horrific wearing consumables (although fuel was a more than reasonable 40mpg), heavy handling in the tight stuff and the odd patch of vibration are all par for the course for these big old bruisers; if you want something sensible, sane and cheap to run then it's better to look elsewhere, but once something like this GSX1100 has been experienced it's almost impossible to find contentment with more mundane commuters.

I was in love with the Suzi, it was everything I ever wanted in a bike. Huge great gobs of arm wrenching power which never seemed to end. Fairly good handling, reasonable brakes and a real looker. It was okay in traffic and great on the open road. Finish is pretty crap, corrosion on the wheels and front mudguard alloy section was impossible to keep up with and I've heard bad stories about the longevity of the linkages in the Full Floater back end (which in good condition worked very well). I was sorry to get rid of the bike, a Kawa RX came along, but that's really a different story.

Phil Gooding

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I don't know quite why I did it but it, anyway, happened. Bought a 1981 Suzuki GSX1100 for £900. Only thing was it had twelve owners and had done, er, 123,000 miles. As far as anyone knew all the engine had received was regular servicing. Stock except for a noisy 4-1 and K and N filters, it still growled nicely and put 140mph on the clock. The engine was so well run in that it was exceptionally smooth, rarely did any secondary vibes hit the bars. The chassis was well sorted - Pirellis, alloy swinging arm, newish front end, fork brace. Finished in gloss black and polished cases it didn't look that old and few of my mates believed the mileage (confirmed by a stack of MOT certificates).

Having survived so long, it was the machine's hard luck to fall into my hands. Neglect was my middle name. Give me a beautiful machine and in six moths it'd be a rolling wreck. Rat city, the kinda bike the pigs would pounce on without thought. It says a lot for the big Suzuki that it lasted for nearly a year.

I nearly wrote it off several times in the early days. Taut handling it was but it also felt more like a 600lb Goldwing that a would-be sportster. I strained my wrists several times trying to hurl it through the tighter bends. Comfort was also poor which made me so wretched I kept playing death games on the throttle. Going into bends far too fast and hitting the somewhat vague discs in out and out panic mode. Let's just say that I never had constipation problems. After three months I became used to the wild and wacky ways, could cut up most of my mates.

That season of goodwill lasted for less than six months, due to all the chassis bearings wearing out. 80mph was equivalent to putting a gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger, but I carried on regardless. A sad sight to behold. The engine had started to go off as well, mainly because I hadn't done anything more onerous than bunging in some 20/50 when the gearchange went all vague.

Wheelies were regularly indulged outside the school...yes, I was the clown who fell off and landed on the bollard, completely wrecking the thing. You gotta get some value out of the council tax, haven't you? The big Suzuki was a tough old beast, which despite dents, rust, and gunge still looked and sounded mightily impressive.

The first sign of its final demise was the 4-1 exhaust breaking up. It was pretty easy to suss because of the increase in noise and lack of power below 4000 revs...in the dark flames shot out of one of the down-pipes that had cracked in half. A mate bodged it back together with some metal plate and a welding torch.

A week later there was a dramatic loss of power, no more than 80mph on the clock and lots of back-firing. Must be the plugs, but they were corroded in as solidly as barnacles on some old wreck of a ship. The bike could still be ridden if the throttle was juggled judiciously and I ignored red lights and junctions. At low speeds it liked to stall, or maybe seize up momentarily. I was all for selling the machine but the punters who turned up didn't share my enthusiasm, gave me nasty looks for ruining such a potentially fine machine.

A month later it wouldn't start. Alright, take the engine out and whip the head off. A few days later I managed to get the head off and rapidly keeled over when I saw that all four pistons had big holes in them. Further examination revealed all the crank's bearings were thoroughly thrashed.

The clock read 138,000 miles and I felt a bit sad when, after a quick reassembly, we rolled it down to the local playing field and put a match in the petrol tank...really there was nothing left to salvage, even the forks were shagged again, and this was my usual way of saying goodbye.

James G.

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'You have to take it easy on the throttle. Otherwise you'll go end over end.' Thus spoke the gravelly voice of the owner as I was getting ready for the test ride. I grinned, snicked into first gear and wound the throttle around to the stop. The whole machine quaked, the exhaust rasped and I felt my body chopped in half when I dropped the clutch. There followed a massive, snaking wheelie that left my stomach contents in me underpants!

I'd just extricated myself from a painful experience with a GSXR 750 that had a series of mechanical mishaps. I was determined to check out the 1100 properly - break it on the test rather than after I'd handed over the dosh. After getting the front wheel back on the ground, an exhilarating ten minute ride followed. The bike had done 39000 miles and seemed fine. Mine for £1250. Sold!

Riding home, the polished finery was blunted by a howling gale, acid rain and a three minute blast of hailstones. As if the elements didn't want me to enjoy my new mount. To stop the back wheel skidding, I had to keep the tacho below 5000 revs. Despite its size, the GSX was a pussy-cat at low revs with a slick gearbox and no drive-line lash.

The front wheel was a little bit twitchy and flighty but otherwise the massive bulk sat securely on the road. The flat, narrow bars didn't need much effort to twitch the bike through the bends. Home was reached with a grin despite being soaked through. The bike was looking its age suddenly, covered in road crud.

Rather than clean it off, I hurried into the house to dry out and warm up. The next morning rust had sprouted and that horrible white fur had settled on the engine and wheel alloy. The bike looked like a £500 rat. The guy who sold the GSX had covered the engine and exhaust with black paint that fell off the first time it rained. GSX's don't have a brilliant finish and age doesn't help. It needed a daily polish to keep the corrosion at bay. Tiresome!

I was just about to leap aboard for another bit of madness when I realised I'd been a huge fool. I'd forgotten to check the electrics over! I had ridden home with the lights on and it did come to life first press of the button, so there was some hope. Turned out that there was a mess of wiring, non-standard rectifier/regulator and a rather battered looking battery. As it happened, there were no problems down the line, just the odd fear-inspired thought when I found myself in the middle of nowhere. Would it, or wouldn't it?

I kept the angst at bay by going violent on the throttle. Basically what the GSX was all about There's no point buying one unless you want to revel in the excessive grunt. That's not to say it couldn't run nicely at low revs, just that once the acceleration had been experienced I needed a regular fix - like every five minutes.

The sixteen valve, DOHC, air-cooled four cylinder motor was one those engines that absolutely thrived on revs. The harder it was pushed the better it ran and as ten grand was approached the exhaust turned into a gravelly wail that got the hairs on my back standing up. Judging by the agonized look on the ped's faces this wasn't something shared by the general populace. Oh well, you can't please all of the people all of the time!

Apart from the finish, there wasn't much to complain about. The gearbox was slick, the clutch light, the comfort good and the handling reasonable. With a 100 horses fighting over 500lbs, some care was needed on the throttle through the bends, but despite the weird front end I never found it really frightening. Even in the wet there was something about the bike that encouraged spirited riding, although the hardness of the suspension, given the mileage, suggested that the previous owner had done some minor mod's.

The mono-track back end can wear around the linkages but my bike was fine. Even the chain and sprockets, notoriously fast wearing items, were in good shape - upgraded as the chain was to modern O-ring spec. Fuel was around 40mpg given an urgent throttle hand, could maybe do 50mpg under milder riding.

Secondary vibes didn't disturb me but did cause one of the oil pipes to come loose! Oil spat out of the oil-cooler at an incredible rate. Luckily, our self produced howling gale spat it back up at me, enabling me to pull over before the sump was drained of lubricant. An eye needs to be kept on the oil level because it can disappear on long rides; I always carry a spare litre of 10/40.

The good riding position means I don't get tired for the first 200 miles, as long as I keep the speed below the ton. Quite difficult, the engine coming into its hard power at 90mph, wanting to growl up the road. Putting 150mph on the clock isn't impossible, but holding it any length of time does my body in. The naked nature of the bike means I have to get right down on the tank, elbows stuck up in the air, whole body straining against the elements. There are both full and half fairing versions of the GSX, but as motorway speeds are limited by the law, keeping under the ton ain't such a bad idea. And I think the Suzuki looks much more butch naked.

Lights, horn and switches are all excellent, though it's not a good idea, given the fragility of the electrical system, to upgrade the front headlamp to an even more powerful spec. On high mileage bikes expect the wiring to be falling apart and/or bodged. These are tough engines (rattly top ends may just mean the valves need attention), the electrics most likely to be a troublesome area - that means you can pick up a bike in need of attention, but with no serious mechanical problems, for £500 to £750. £1000 to £1500 should buy something with lots of life left and in generally nice condition. Though the finish can go off at the first sign of rain.

The square section frame's tough, can take the odd slide down the road. Any really nasty handling is down to a bent frame, though (or bald tyres!). The forks are susceptible to being twisted slightly out of shape, but this is quite hard to suss and doesn't ruin the handling - the bike may lurch about when the brakes are used in anger in bends. A fork brace is a useful addition if you're going to ride and brake hard. Cracked plastic around the seat is common. As are quick seize calipers. There are still lots of GSX's on offer. 

Paul Garland