On the test ride I screamed the engine in third gear, put 65mph on the clock. Seemed okay, the slightly heavy handling strangely reassuring... until the front wheel ran over something. Don't know what it was, the first I knew of the hit was the whole front end shuddering. Not a tank slapper, just left me feeling like my bowels wanted to explode.
I was moving too fast through the suburban conurbation of Luton to find out if I'd added to my count of road kill; certainly the forks had bottomed out like it was a big dog, cunningly coloured to blend in with the tarmac. In that it wasn't unlike the Z400 four, its appearance so devoid of any defining characteristics that it blends totally with the amorphous mass of the motorcycle movement.
I couldn't find anything wrong with the 34000 mile, one-owner. In fact, it sported all the usual sensible mods - upgraded forks, shocks, brakes, Avon tyres, O-ring chain conversion and stainless steel exhaust system - and in many ways was better than new. Of course, the mileage added up to some internal engine wear but the addition of electronic ignition helped it fight back. Given that there were only 43 horses when new, any loss due to wear had a large effect on forward progress.
Anyway, ten used fifties were handed over and a new motorcycle adventure began. A good testing ground for any motorcycle is the Central London commute. The Z was a bit slow in acceleration for the more desperate cut and thrust madness and braking wasn't quite as vicious as I'd like to cope with the odd mad cabbie. It wasn't a total fish out of water, when the going got desperate it could be thrown around things despite the heavy feel to the handling.
It didn't respond so well to the more crater-like pot-holes, which bottomed out the forks and threatened to snag the undercarriage! The bars twitched in my hands. On a more sporty bike there would've been the option of aviating the front wheel but the Z400 wouldn't raise the front end by so much as an inch. Well, it probably would, but I couldn't bring myself to scream the engine to unlikely revs and abuse the clutch until it rattled. You have to treat these old bikes with a certain amount of respect.
There wasn't any point in wringing the engine's neck, the power died a death at about 10,000 revs, the motor just not wanting to know about running harder. I rarely put more than 90mph on the clock, though this was, oddly, a feasible cruising speed as long as I didn't mind playing with the gearbox when fighting against hills or mountains. The only problem was selector wear, especially on down-changes, which could have the motor buzzing away furiously. An acquired art, I eventually mastered the box and false neutrals became rare. Anyone switching from a modern bike to the old Kawa would soon be swearing their heads off!
Even when wading through a false neutral the chassis never really became upset. It was fairly neutral in characteristics, not enough power to have it running wide in corners and reassuringly stable on a trailing throttle in bends. Bear in mind, that the suspension was better than the original stuff that left untended would be a soggy mess by now. I know this because I had a brief blast on a rat Z400 - a deathtrap!
Commuting chores turned in about 40mpg and ate the oil at around a pint every 150 miles. The clutch would overheat after an hour stuck in London traffic but by then my backside was complaining and my hands were tiring of controlling the somewhat heavy clutch and brake action. Good excuse for a rest, though the daily commute usually took about 40 minutes so it wasn't that great a hassle.
The bike couldn't stay with the scooters as it was too wide to take the same gaps; nor could it stay with the mad DR's who would go through gaps on one wheel when necessary. At least it was a lot faster than the cages. Basically, it was the kind of motorcycle that gave no encouragement to highway madness, safety and stateliness seemingly built into its genes.
Fuel improved to around 50mpg on the open road (new ones could do 60mpg, maybe wear or poorer quality fuel as in unleaded) and the Z was up to general road speeds as few people wanted to incur the wrath of the authorities by doing more than 90mph. Oil consumption increased and long runs could drain the sump of lube; I always carried a bottle or two.
The finish was faded when I bought the bike but no actual corrosion. I can only think that the owner did a daily polish because the slightest amount of neglect allowed the rot to rule. Impossible alloy corrosion on the wheels and engine covers; rust breaking through the frame and tank paint. It was dead easy to come back to the bike after a rainstorm and wonder if the rusty rat was actually my bike. I had to face it, the Z was showing its age.
Didn't stop me getting the clock up to 56000 miles in less than a year, including winter commuting which finally finished off the bike as far as appearance goes. At this point I had to whip the engine out to replace the camchain. The old thread the new one on to the back of the old chain routine. As the engine was out, I decided to attack the frame with a wire-brush and tin of Hammerite.
The engine whirred into life in its usual reliable manner, went as well or badly as before. A little later, the motor was cutting out on a whim, traced to rust in the petrol tank. The latter was replaced with a used but resprayed item for a tenner, the bike suddenly looking a lot less rat-like. A mate had access to a shot-blaster, the wheels given a good going over, polished and lacquered. Very nice, too.
The engine ran to 61000 miles before it seemed to go off. Don't know if it was the tapping valves, rattling clutch or noisy bottom end but the bike was sold for 500 quid to the first person who turned up.
Gary Pease
I was moving too fast through the suburban conurbation of Luton to find out if I'd added to my count of road kill; certainly the forks had bottomed out like it was a big dog, cunningly coloured to blend in with the tarmac. In that it wasn't unlike the Z400 four, its appearance so devoid of any defining characteristics that it blends totally with the amorphous mass of the motorcycle movement.
I couldn't find anything wrong with the 34000 mile, one-owner. In fact, it sported all the usual sensible mods - upgraded forks, shocks, brakes, Avon tyres, O-ring chain conversion and stainless steel exhaust system - and in many ways was better than new. Of course, the mileage added up to some internal engine wear but the addition of electronic ignition helped it fight back. Given that there were only 43 horses when new, any loss due to wear had a large effect on forward progress.
Anyway, ten used fifties were handed over and a new motorcycle adventure began. A good testing ground for any motorcycle is the Central London commute. The Z was a bit slow in acceleration for the more desperate cut and thrust madness and braking wasn't quite as vicious as I'd like to cope with the odd mad cabbie. It wasn't a total fish out of water, when the going got desperate it could be thrown around things despite the heavy feel to the handling.
It didn't respond so well to the more crater-like pot-holes, which bottomed out the forks and threatened to snag the undercarriage! The bars twitched in my hands. On a more sporty bike there would've been the option of aviating the front wheel but the Z400 wouldn't raise the front end by so much as an inch. Well, it probably would, but I couldn't bring myself to scream the engine to unlikely revs and abuse the clutch until it rattled. You have to treat these old bikes with a certain amount of respect.
There wasn't any point in wringing the engine's neck, the power died a death at about 10,000 revs, the motor just not wanting to know about running harder. I rarely put more than 90mph on the clock, though this was, oddly, a feasible cruising speed as long as I didn't mind playing with the gearbox when fighting against hills or mountains. The only problem was selector wear, especially on down-changes, which could have the motor buzzing away furiously. An acquired art, I eventually mastered the box and false neutrals became rare. Anyone switching from a modern bike to the old Kawa would soon be swearing their heads off!
Even when wading through a false neutral the chassis never really became upset. It was fairly neutral in characteristics, not enough power to have it running wide in corners and reassuringly stable on a trailing throttle in bends. Bear in mind, that the suspension was better than the original stuff that left untended would be a soggy mess by now. I know this because I had a brief blast on a rat Z400 - a deathtrap!
Commuting chores turned in about 40mpg and ate the oil at around a pint every 150 miles. The clutch would overheat after an hour stuck in London traffic but by then my backside was complaining and my hands were tiring of controlling the somewhat heavy clutch and brake action. Good excuse for a rest, though the daily commute usually took about 40 minutes so it wasn't that great a hassle.
The bike couldn't stay with the scooters as it was too wide to take the same gaps; nor could it stay with the mad DR's who would go through gaps on one wheel when necessary. At least it was a lot faster than the cages. Basically, it was the kind of motorcycle that gave no encouragement to highway madness, safety and stateliness seemingly built into its genes.
Fuel improved to around 50mpg on the open road (new ones could do 60mpg, maybe wear or poorer quality fuel as in unleaded) and the Z was up to general road speeds as few people wanted to incur the wrath of the authorities by doing more than 90mph. Oil consumption increased and long runs could drain the sump of lube; I always carried a bottle or two.
The finish was faded when I bought the bike but no actual corrosion. I can only think that the owner did a daily polish because the slightest amount of neglect allowed the rot to rule. Impossible alloy corrosion on the wheels and engine covers; rust breaking through the frame and tank paint. It was dead easy to come back to the bike after a rainstorm and wonder if the rusty rat was actually my bike. I had to face it, the Z was showing its age.
Didn't stop me getting the clock up to 56000 miles in less than a year, including winter commuting which finally finished off the bike as far as appearance goes. At this point I had to whip the engine out to replace the camchain. The old thread the new one on to the back of the old chain routine. As the engine was out, I decided to attack the frame with a wire-brush and tin of Hammerite.
The engine whirred into life in its usual reliable manner, went as well or badly as before. A little later, the motor was cutting out on a whim, traced to rust in the petrol tank. The latter was replaced with a used but resprayed item for a tenner, the bike suddenly looking a lot less rat-like. A mate had access to a shot-blaster, the wheels given a good going over, polished and lacquered. Very nice, too.
The engine ran to 61000 miles before it seemed to go off. Don't know if it was the tapping valves, rattling clutch or noisy bottom end but the bike was sold for 500 quid to the first person who turned up.
Gary Pease