Kawasaki Z750

Sometimes it's necessary to rock and roll, so to speak, on the open highway. Getting speed out of the Z750 was hard work, the engine less than enthralled with the idea of revving beyond eight grand. The riding position was good for no more than 75mph, before arm and thigh pains tried to age me prematurely. I was already going bald from wearing a crash-helmet and didn't fancy ending up hunch-backed from the contortions necessary to hold the reluctant Z750 at speed.

These days, the 1985 machine would be classed as a retro, an excuse for only developing 70 horses and nearly weighing 500lbs. But as an old hack there was no way I was going to accept such alibis for mediocrity and when the need arose it was head between the clocks, hands left high up in the air.

Something had to give. One time it was the chassis. Foolishly, I'd assumed that with just 11000 miles done there would be some life in the OE suspension. It was a nice cushy ride up to 70mph, not as compliant, perhaps, as my old BMW boxer but cool for anyone with a dodgy back (the cure for which, you might like to know, is to buy a device that swings you upside down and relieves the effect of gravity on your spine).

However, I wound the bike up to 110mph (on a very long stretch of motorway), held that speed for a half a mile, a bit worried by the way the back wheel skated around and thinking about, maybe, backing off to a more moderate speed. A thought intensified by my hands going numb from the secondary vibes - I've ridden 1100's that were smoother.

Then the weave took over the whole bike until it suddenly became a massive three lane wobble. God knows what the following cagers thought. My brain went as blank and empty as a DR's after a ten hour day in the capital (something I could also write about), then the animal in me took over, decided if we were going to come off it would be better at low speed. Hence I found my muscles straining at the brakes...and the bars as they threshed about. Only when 70mph was on the clock did the wobbles subside.

Pulling over to the hard shoulder, to check the state of the chassis as it felt like a few vital bolts had fallen out, I found my whole body was bathed in an excess of sweat; for a moment I thought I'd pissed myself! The chassis was, in fact, intact and the wobbles all the way home were resultant from my own shaking rather than any further degeneration in the frame.

As well as the possibilities of being thrown off at high speed, there was also the time the motor nipped up. Not being entirely stupid I'd done a bit to the chassis, S and W shocks plus fork brace and set of Michelins. Thus encouraged I'd thrashed the Kawasaki up to an incredible 120mph (well, it felt pretty incredible).

The vibes were hard going but I ignored them as I was trying to burn off a Z650. I had my hand over the clutch just in case, which was just as well. Ever had a back wheel lock up at 120mph? Don't envy me, it's not an experience that I want to repeat. For the few moments it took for my left hand to react, I had the back end doing a massive fish-tail feeling like the wheel was going to swing right round and send me charging into the traffic behind.

The Z650 rider disappeared off into the distance, doubtless laughing his head off at the sight of me throwing up on the hard shoulder. I let the motor cool for half an hour, prayed a little and hit the starter. She'd loosened off and I could rattle home at an appropriately slow pace. Most Kawasaki's fours of this type sport an oil cooler, the lack thereof perhaps explaining the seizure.

Actually, no real damage appeared to be done, the motor soon settled down to its usual mixture of lack of low rev torque and disinclination to rev into the red. The weirdness of this combination, where, for instance, the Z650 had a lot more zap, made most rides pretty boring. After nearly being thrown off and almost wrecking the engine, I vowed to take it easy, live within the means of the machine rather than trying to push it, all the time, to its extremes.

As boring as this undoubtedly was, the daily grind into work was easily accomplished, leaving behind trails of brain dead motorists who could only gasp in envy at the svelte form of the Z and I. At least that's what I think the horn work and gesticulations were all about. The exhaust was degutted in the tradition of all young hoodlums and I could graduate top of the school if ever there was an exam on the arcane art of knocking mirrors off cages!

The relaxed riding position made it easy to swing around errant cagers and I thought the brakes were quite efficient. The front could shake the forks and the rear would send us into a controllable low speed skid - scared the hell out of pedestrians trying to hop over crossings. In 12000 miles I had no problems from the calipers, although I have to admit to doing little riding in the winter - too much ice on the roads and in my veins. And the Kawasaki's finish would've done a rapid runner. I had to spend quite a bit of time cleaning her up even in the summer, but it was better than lolling in front of the TV.

Another incident that the Z turned up was misfiring in heavy rain; given English weather an all too common occurrence. WD40 didn't have much of an effect. These kind of Kawasakis suffer from coil and ignition module problems but the solution in this particular case was very simple. The front mudguard's a pathetic thing that actually concentrates the water on the engine. Replacing it cleared up the cutting out. I could've spend a small fortune on coils and ignition components trying to solve it.

Great fun was had trying to change the tyres. Something about the rims made it incredibly difficult to get the rubber back on. I was practically standing on the tyre lever... when it slipped, I went straight down and whacked my shin on the rim. It was so bad I went howling around to the doctor who sent me away with a mouthing off for wasting his time. Coming back to the scene of the carnage I found that bouncing the wheel on the floor had cracked the disc. The screams could be heard several blocks away.

Fuel was pathetic, around 40mpg, tyres lasted 8000 miles and pads about half that (I was fierce on the brakes). For a 150mph race replica those figures might've added up, for something that often had trouble staying ahead of a mate's GS500E it was just adding insult to injury, especially as there was no improvement when I went into Easy Rider mode.

Not that it really mattered in the end. As boring and bland as the performance was, the Z750 looked nice and retro, was easily sold for a profit after eighteen months. I did what I should've done first time round - bought a GPz750. For the first time in many months I sported a large grin, had an excess of adrenaline running through my body and could burn off most of my mates. Unless you want to pose, stay with the serious motorcycles.

Alan Hughes