Suzuki GS550

I bought this rat GS550. Covered in grime and corrosion. The engine dripped a murky substance that long ago might've been oil. All the chassis bearings were loose. The mileage was unknown, the clocks long disconnected. Beneath the decay, the classic silhouette shone through. Sort of! Of all the UJM's the GS550 has emerged as a classic. Good ones both rare and expensive. For two hundred quid I wasn't going to complain, was I?

Amazingly, the engine gave every impression of running fine. I rode the bike home. The disc brakes were diabolical and steering precision an unknown concept. Two cans of Gunk and three jet-washes later I could see the extent of the damage. The oil leaks sorted by tightening down the head bolts. Simple as that. The chassis needing stripping right down, the engine and frame left standing on a couple of old boxes. Rust had attacked the frame but was sorted with a wire-brush and Hammerite.

The front end was such a disgusting mess that I couldn't find one component worth saving. As it was a classic bike, the TLS drum Norton 750 Commando front end was an obvious choice. Well, it'd been hanging around my garage for decades looking for a suitable home (the rest of the heap had disintegrated!). It fitted on as well as a diminutive Oriental man would into a massive Negro mama but these things are sent to try us.

The swinging arm disintegrated when attacked with my favourite hammer. Rust had gone that deep! The original shocks were in a pathetic state, would be rejected for use in a pram. Ringing around the breakers found an early GS550 back end for ten notes. The wheel's rim was far gone on rust so I had it rebuilt to match the alloy rim on the Norton front end. New chassis bearings all round, new cables, used tyres, secondhand Girling shocks and a pair of universal silencers finished off the basic rebuild. It was then I realised I had to do a complete electrical rebuild as well! Praise be to Superdream rectifiers!

The MOT was the usual five minute, back street affair. The open road beckoned. The engine had probably gone around the clock. Even new, its 55 horses weren't going to set the world alight when it had to push nearly 500lbs of well made metal. Oddly, the chain and sprocket set were newish, the engine cog having 16 teeth rather than the standard 15. The taller gearing added to the stately feel of the acceleration. Settled down to a 100mph cruising stance. A deep, resonant bellow from the non-standard silencers.

If there wasn't a sudden outpouring of power neither were there any huge holes in the delivery. It just wound itself up slowly, almost at a pace independent of the rate of right hand work. Handling was close to excellent. An exceedingly safe bike to ride. Both at town speeds and on the open highway. Go into a corner too fast, simply close the throttle to make the bike tighten up its line. Only an idiot would fall off one...

That's what I thought until the world went upside-down. I still don't know why the bike spun off the road in a bumpy 50mph bend. One moment I was cool and laid back, sporting the usual big grin. The next, the bike lost both tyres at the same time and I was fighting the tarmac. Of course, I lost! The only good thing, bike and I parted company in different directions. Having 500lbs of metal flattening me into the ground doesn't bear thinking about!

Damage to self was the usual scraped knees and bruised elbows. Full leathers and body armour would've saved me. But who wants to look like a plonker when wandering around town? The GS had scraped cases, bent gear and clutch levers, and put a couple of knocks in the newly painted petrol tank. On close examination, the paper-thin tank actually had holes in it! The rusty petrol seeping out.

There was a great temptation to put a match in the tank and have finished with it... a few moments of reflection changed my mind. Decent GS's were rare on the ground. I pushed the bike a mile and a half to the nearest town. Bought some chewing gum and blocked up the holes in the petrol tank! That got me home. GS tanks rust from the inside out. Breakers just laughed when I phoned them up.

Noddy was consulted. A weird character with hair down to his arse and ruined skin. Some kind of sixties hippy survivor. He was well handy with the welding torch, though. The time he destroyed a metal edifice in the town centre, writ deep in local history. The plod were still after him for it! Anyway, he knocked out the thinner bits of tank, bunged in some metal plate and welded the whole thing up. A bit of work with the metal grinder and a few coats of paint, it was looking like new. Well, newish. Okay, from a hundred yards away it looked passable. Sod it, it kept the petrol where it was meant to be!

Top speed was 110mph, fuel 60mpg, consumable wear wasn't really discernible and maintenance didn't come into it. Er? Well, it ate the lubricant at the rate of a pint every 90 miles, which meant I just kept topping it up rather than changing it. Electronic ignition and automatic camchain tensioner took care of those chores. The carbs never needed attention. Neither did the valves, though the latter was due to my reluctance to take a look at them. I could see why they were popular as cheap hacks, they cost sod all to run. With the exception of the awful stock disc brakes which I'd replaced with good old drums.

With so much mass, the front TLS Norton drum wasn't exactly on the ball. A couple of high speed stops had it fading away but I've been around long enough to look where I'm going. Luckily, desperate braking, as in emergency stops, always pulled the Suzuki up in time. Engine braking was pretty good. On open road runs I often didn't need the brakes at all, just used the throttle and gearbox. The bike's useful cornering abilities gave the brakes an easy time.

With Avon tyres, progressive brakes and mild power output, the GS was also a very useful tool in wet weather. I felt pretty confident at high speeds. The bike having a tenacious feel on the awash roads. Despite running stock HT leads and ancient plugs it never lost its beat even in the nastiest of downpours. Contrast that with a mate's Honda CB750F1 which often ended up as a twin in the wet. The Honda was, in the dry, a much harsher bike that killed the GS dead in no uncertain terms. Some consolation was the Honda's need for 20,000 mile rebuilds. Whereas the Suzuki just kept whirring away resolutely.

On one long ride, I was amazed at how fresh I felt. The riding position was good, vibration non-existent and the engine would hold a high speed velocity without any effort. Remorseless was the best description. My friends on replicas were amazed at the old four's staying power. They had to keep stopping for fuel and muscle revival sessions, whereas I just kept rolling on and on!

One time, 35 miles from home the bike went dead. As in all the electrics going. The battery was actually warped with the excessive voltages. Something had gone wrong with the alternator which in turn had taken out the rectifier. I don't know if it was fortunate or not, but I was in the company of the F1 owner. He grinned widely, produced a few yards of rope with all the aplomb of a second rate magician. There followed a crazed ride in which I tried to go around corners whilst tied to a hugely wobbling F1. The stress was such that his gearbox output bearing was shot by the time we got back home! I was a mess of shaking hands and rotating eyeballs!

The GS550 needed a new alternator and another complete electrical rebuild. Even after all this effort, lights, horns and indicators maintained their pathetic lack of intensity. The battery's brackets managed to snap off, attacked by the usual relentless corrosion. A couple of bungee cords and an old inner-tube did the business.

After that effort it was back to the usual relentless running. I managed to buy a Katana tank, saddle and panels from a bike that had finally expired at a claimed 230,000 miles! The shark-like appearance and bright red paint had the civilians gawping in the expectation of massive wheelies and take-off speeds but the GS didn't respond. Relentless and remorseless but not wild!

Steve Davidson