With so many magazines covering the used motorcycle scene, real bargains are becoming increasingly elusive, especially the more obvious choices, so greatly have their praises been sung. That leaves a pretty desperate manoeuvre, tracking down one of the bikes badly burnt by its critique in the dreaded Used Guide.
I became a convert to this madness when a Yam XZ550 turned up in the local paper. The engine still ran, just, but the chassis was comprehensively rotted. For a than five year machine its total state of corrosion was unbelievable. The vendor was not impressed, either, reckoned that mere hours after cleaning off all the alloy corrosion and rust, the damn thing had returned to the state it was now in.It was hard to believe that the internals were in much better shape but it roared into life first press of the button and screamed off up the read without any hesitation. The way the chassis wobbled and the brakes didn't work convinced me that it would be a lot safer to push the Yam the mile or so home. I got the bike for £80, which put a smile on my face.
The XZ is a sufficiently rare machine for breakers to refuse to admit its existence, but that did not put me off for long. An XJ550 front end went on with suspicious ease. Some XS650 silencers i had left over from a previous, expensive experience were hammered on to the ends of the magnificently rusted downpipes. The rear shock was another discard l had hanging around the garage, off, I think, a GS500E that a friend was going to throw away until I blagged it, sensing that it was bound. some day, to come in useful.
The list of replacements seemed endless at the time, and deeply depleted my carefully accumulated garage full of junk. Had I paid new Yamaha prices I would have been better off buying a new XJ600, but with old stuff from breakers and my garage l barely broke through the £100 barrier.
I did not touch the engine internals, the clock had 23000 miles on its cracked but still working face and it whirred away without any of the alarming rattles that are often the sign of demise of these water-cooled vee twins. The non-standard silencers made for a bit of a flat spot between 4000 and 6500 revs, but, in typical vee twin manner, it would slog it out at low revs or go for 10000rpm like a snake pouncing on a rat.
The handling was naff in the extreme with various vile reactions, from falling into corners at low speeds to trying to dislodge the rear wheel above 80mph. I didn't mind, really, it would reliably slog into work and back again, lasted for six months and nearly 20,000 miles without needing any attention and when the camchain went still fetched £225, which was three times what I paid for my next dubious hack - a CB500T with 45000 miles on the clock. It was still in the original shit brown and with its huge if rusty exhaust system. The UMG is not too hard on this machine, admitting its usefulness as a cheap hack - one of the other magazines was enraged by its mere existence, which completely missed the point about these bikes - cheap and cheerful transport with a bit of character. Indeed, I came across a couple of owners who were in awe of them, according the CB the same kind of respect that old British twins demanded.
I couldn't muster that kind of enthusiasm - the vibes and vile handling were out of all relation to the minimal performance of its DOHC vertical twin engine. It wandered all over the road above 70mph. For 5000 miles the alarming engine rattles became no worse, then terminal shudders ran through the chassis as the crankshaft bearings disintegrated. Oh dear.
For a while I ran the bike with an XS400 engine, which had turned up out of nowhere tor thirty notes - l bought it when I was drunk and feared it was dead. but it ran OK up to about 70mph. This was a pretty desperate effort as the vibes were bad enough to annoy a Norton Atlas owner, something to do with only anchoring the engine at two points. Still, it got me back and forth to work for a couple of months, averaging a pretty astonishing 70mpg!
When someone offered me a hundred quid for the XS engine I all but tore the motor out with my bare hands, not that difficult as the engine mounting bolts kept vibrating loose. As it happened, I had found another running CB500T engine in a breakers, so soon had this installed for £80. The way this one vibrated harshly everywhere in the rev range soon convinced me that it was on the way out, so I flogged it off for £295 with ridiculous ease. I had the feeling the new owner was convinced he had just bought a classic motorcycle off a complete idiot; more fool he.
Another Honda turned up, this time one of the dreaded G5s, a 250 chassis with a 360 engine installed. The head had new bearings machined in to stop the dreaded demise for which these models are so justly famous, so much so that I was a bit doubtful about paying £45 for this one. The front wheel and forks were bent, easily fixed with some ubiquitous Superdream items a friend swapped for half my porno collection.
The G5 turned out to have such insipid power characteristics that I was not that bothered by the way the chassis leapt all over the road above 45mph. In five months just about every chassis component rotted away beneath me, a huge amount of effort expended to stop it becoming a rolling deathtrap.
When the engine finally seized solid, with a credible 89000 miles on the clock (god knows how many motors the chassis had housed to accumulate such a mileage), there was nothing left of any use on the whole machine. A coupe of mates and myself dumped the heap in the middle of the shopping precinct late at night, throwing a match in the petrol tank. A terrific explosion resulted, the incident being put down to the work of incompetent terrorists! Er, no that was just a dream I had, officer... honest!
I actually paid £400 for the next bike, a Suzuki GS550 that was way past its prime. I paid so much because I thought I could make a killing by doing a quick renovation job on the rat. Such ambitions were rudely crushed when I pulled the petrol tank off to reveal cracked top frame tubes that had been crudely welded and needed only the slightest of whacks with my handy hammer to ping apart.
There are still some GS550s in breakers but they were all in a worse state than my own, god help them. I ended up reconstructing the steering head area with ultra thick bits of steel plate. I'm not very good at welding and had little faith in the frame thereafter.
This need not have bothered me very much as the engine gave every indication of having been around the clock three or four times and would only push the madly weaving behemoth to 78mph! It was in every way inferior to the XZ and even the G5!
I did do a quick tidy up, did the valve shims and polished up the dead alloy, managing to sell the heap for £425 before it expired completely and went to meet its maker in that great scrapyard in the sky. Just goes to show, that a lot of bikes that are highly hyped can't deliver the goods once they have done high mileages - this doesn't stop their owners demanding very silly money for them.
After that experience I went looking for something obscure again. Found it, too, in the shape of a decrepit XS400 twin, the rare it not wonderful version with a DOHC mill and backbone frame guise. This was the custom version, which I found a bit embarrassing as I'd always enjoyed a laugh at people on similar bikes.
The matt black paint and rust rather obscured its nature, which was all to the good, although not the way it always demanded a push start and would stall whilst waiting at junctions. If nothing else it gave cagers something to be grateful for. Still, it was surprisingly fast at 105mph and would turn in 65 to 75mpg. Its decayed appearance hid the fact that the engine did 12000 miles without so much as a carb job and I only sold it because I'd become suddenly desperate to possess a Kawa Z1000.
This was another matt black job in the survivalist mould. It was cheap and very fast. having had an Z1R engine installed in the heavily braced frame. The major problem with this delightful beast was that it ran through the half worn tyres I fitted in 500 to 1000 miles, complaining about my cheapskate nature by twitching all over the road. 30mpg also took its toll on my wallet, which had never spent so much time exposed to the daylight.
The huge grin which I wore after each and every fight with death, and each gut churning burst of acceleration took my mind off my imminent financial doom. I knew that the Kawasaki would have to go, but was determined to make the best of it by doing a decent paint job and passing the Z off as an immaculate classic to some credulous forty year old who wanted to relive his youth.
Much to my shock this scenario worked, bringing in a couple of grand just in time to placate the bank which was threatening to repossess the house. I felt completely cheated, as it left me back where I started with still a huge amount owing on the house and no bike to ride.
From sheer highway bliss was I thus plunged into despair, by way oi a completely rotted Suzuki GT380, another machine that is much hated by just about everyone except for a few fanatics. How can anyone get excited about a three cylinder stroker that is slow, heavy and inordinately thirsty? It's also pug ugly and difficult to start. It was in such a far gone cosmetic state that I only paid £50, even then I felt rather cheated.
After too many late nights l managed to put this bike into running shape, though the XS250 forks, wheels and brakes were probably not an ideal match to the needs of the chassis, nor did the slightly bent frame aid high speed ability.
It wasn't safe above 70mph, but then the motor coughed and spluttered if more than 60mph was attempted. Apart from only doing about 15mpg the wailing triple turned out to be a useful town commuter and reliably took me back and forth to work for a few months.
I sold the heap to some right nutter who wanted to own every one left in the country, paying me £350 for a machine that would barely make it out of the street. The bank took most of the money, yet again - greedy buggers leaving me with enough to buy a Yamaha Townmate that smoked so furiously cagers would gang up on me in town, irately sounding their horns and waving their hands. The engine didn't last more than a week, but I'd only paid a tenner and got another motor for next to nothing. This worked long enough to allow me to sell the bike for £100.
The horrors of a rotten C90 were but narrowly avoided in favour of a RS125 Yamaha, which was old but a one owner, polished every day job in remarkably nice nick. I tottered home, a bit disappointed to find that top speed was only 65mph and that the front drum brake was only good for one rapid retardation a day. Could write a song about it called The Terminal Fade Blues.
With such a paucity of performance I expected about 200mpg but got around 50mpg, not aided any by the way petrol seeped out of the seam in the tank. Careful application of Araldite cured it but I could feel bits of tank where the metal had rusted away until it was almost paper thin. It was about the greatest sign of character exhibited by this most bland of seventies strokers.
I off-loaded the RS on a mate who went wild about its lines - sadly I'm not joking - ending up with a Suzuki GT250 X7 which had the engine worked over and a set of spannies that drowned out jumbo jets on take-off. I soon developed a visible cringe riding this dubious device but knew it would be too much effort to re-jet the carbs to suit more sensible silencers.
This was a blindingly fast machine up to about 80mph and would even wail along at the ton with a bit of a following wind. Fuel worked out at a surprising 42mpg, nothing seemed to wear out and the mill didn't need attention in 9000 miles. It had to go before the noise drove me mad, sold to the first grinning urchin who turned up with a bag full of fifties (notes not broken mopeds).
Latest acquisition is a Kawa GPz305 which needed a newish engine from the breakers - don't expect them to do more than 30000 miles. Nice bike after some of the heaps I've owned but it's up for sale already as I'm a bit bored with it.
Nick