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When it first appeared in 1977, the GS400 was hailed as a civilised, modern vertical twin with none of the self destruct habits of the old Brit stuff. The DOHC, 180° crank engine had a single gear driven counterbalancer to take care of the inherent vibration problems - it was so effective that it made the motor appear very remote, and along with suspension that totally insulated the rider from the tarmac, soon gained the bike a reputation for blandness out on the street.
And then there were the engine problems. Nothing too major, I suppose, but enough to make people think twice about buying one. The most persistent problem was exhaust valves that burnt out This happened gradually, so there was plenty of warning, but could afflict the bike with just ten grand on the clock. With a little more mileage (say fifteen grand) the automatic camchain tensioner could stop working, breaking the camchain. By twenty grand it was not unknown for the bike to either seize or be in need of a rebore. That said, some owners were able to run the things to over forty grand with nothing more than a regular oil change and some perfunctory maintenance.
So where does that leave us? Down to assessing how the owner had looked after the bike and recalling that this was one of the first Suzuki four strokes (they had decided to give up trying to make two strokes behave like four strokes and make the real thlng). The bike ran to '79 and later models are a safer bet than those from the first year.
So how does it go? New, handling is neutral and stable but very remote - I could never feel happy on the bike, especially in the wet, but I never fell off, so no real problems. The shocks are the first of the suspension components to stop trying. As little as six grand would knock out the damping. By twelve grand the swinging arm bearings are shot and by twenty grand the front forks have lost both damping and precision. Despite all this, the bike is still rideable, thanks to a rigid tubular frame, but it tends to cut across traffic on a trailing throttle in a bumpy curve and weave a little on 90mph motorway jaunts.
Particularly bumpy roads are an excellent way for the overweight to slim as the GS will leap and bounce all over the road; it requires both muscle and very energetic manoeuvring to keep the bike in line. Throw on some decent shocks, new swinging arm bearings (usually quite a tedious job) and a decent set of tyres, and the GS will regain some of its former precision. New fork seals and thicker oil help the forks, but there's nothing much you can do about the sloppiness.
The single front disc has plenty of power but, again, lacks any feedback. Long term owners will tell you that there is some feel there, it just takes some time and effort to recognise. Riding a bike with thirty five grand on the clock revealed a disc that grabbed, locked in the Wet after a few seconds delay, didn't have much power and made some nasty noises. All conditions that wouldn't happen with a good drum after a similar time or mileage (yawn, yawn).
The power knocked out by the engine is, well, er, pretty bland. It's much more exciting to ride an old British 500 twin where every ounce of power shakes its way through the whole chassis. None of this on the Suzi, just smooth, smooth power unruffled by even a power step. The thing will cruise between seventy and eighty five all day with barely a need to shift up and down the box. Try going any faster, though, and it needs some swift clutchless action between fourth, fifth and if you're very lucky and optimistic, sixth - it will eventually make it past the ton to 105mph.
Once past thirty grand, the balancer gear train does wear and vibes increase throughout the rev range, but particularly at 70mph in fifth... the gearbox is typically Suzuki slick from new and stays the same for the first twenty five thousand miles, or so, then the change gradually becomes less positive as the selector wears until by forty grand there's a fifty-fifty chance of finding a false neutral on many bikes. Gear primary drive and wet multi-plate clutch are trouble free, as is the roller bearing crankshaft.
Fuel economy was pretty good, as much as 70mpg with mild (read legal) use and as little as 50mpg when thrashed. It averages out somewhere around 60mpg. As the bike gets older it does need regular top-ups to the oil in the wet sump between 2000 mile oil changes. It can be down to the lower level in as little as 300 miles. Not so clever.
The silencers fall apart after three years but the engine will run with anything that looks vaguely the right shape. The state of the paintwork depends entirely on the amount of care and attention lavished by the owner — there are still some very nice examples around, there are also some right pigs. It had some very mild looks ten years ago, these high tech days it's beginning to look quite quaint in an almost classic way.
Compared to other four hundred twins of the same era, the Suzi is up there with the Honda Superdream in the handling stakes (more feel from the Honda), probably the most reliable of the bunch but significantly slower than the Honda (until its balancer chains wear out, anyway) and the smoothest twin around.
The later 425 and 450cc versions are rather more reliable and durable (with the exception of valve wear on the eight valve GSX) but, of course, cost more money. The GS 400 costs as little as £150 for something that runs but looks like a holocaust survivor and as much as £400 for a one owner low mileage job with plenty of life left. For £250 to £300 it's possible to pick up a nice example that won't immediately explode.
As tyre, chain and pad wear are all reasonable (by Jap middleweight standards) and fuel economy is good, the thing can be run on the minimum of money. Oh yes, the alternator and rectifier can and do burn out in typical Suzi manner, but it's cheap enough to repair with nonstandard parts.
The GS400 is not mechanically perfect — not as reliable as the 550 fours, for instance but it is straightforward, easy , to work on and fairly cheap (thanks to breakers) to repair when it does fail. If you really thrash and neglect your bikes it's best to avoid this one, if you do some kind of maintenance occasionally and don't burn around flat out everywhere it'll probably be a fine little machine, but if you're used to the handling qualities of British bikes you're going to find this a little unnerving because just so remote. If I had little money and could find a good one, I'd be tempted.
I guess it had to happen sometime. I'd actually sold all my British bikes, and fate had given me a helping hand; six months later I was back in the UK with several boxes full of used fifty pound notes. It was February, cold and dismal, but the best time for buying a used bike...
I didn't plan on buying an FJ. I was flicking through MCN when I saw the ad. Thirty minutes later I was checking out the bike, outside a quarter of a million Kensington mews house. Turned out the owner had messed up on the stock exchange and was being squeezed from all sides by creditors. It was an '84 model with ten grand on the clock, it looked like it had never seen any wet weather.
After a quick test ride, I couldn't find anything wrong with it, but I pretended that there were some nasty noises coming from the crank. He wanted two and a half grand, I offered two - cash right there. He refused, then changed his mind when he saw that I was going to walk off. It was still very cold, but suddenly life wasn't dismal anymore.
I didn't know too much about the FJ at that time, just that It had a good engine and a chassis that had been state of the art three years ago, but was now in the shade of the race replicas.
Although the FJ weighs 550lbs, Yamaha have kept the whole plot quite low, so once on the move the bike appears as light as most of the older Jap 750s. My attempts at weaving through Kensington High St traffic were achieved with an ease equivalent to, say, a Norton 850, which is going some for a Jap multi.
The first problem with the Yam came as soon as there was an empty piece of road. Whining along with the throttle just off the stop in fourth, I had quite a shock when I looked down at the fairing mounted speedo to find I was doing seventy instead of the forty I'd assumed. Up to the ton, the Yam delivers power in an uncannily quiet, smooth and efficient manner - but then I am used to riding a nastily tuned Norton 850 twin.
The hydraulic clutch was light but lacking feedback, the gearchange action was short but notchy, especially second to third - it required the power to be turned on to make a clean change - dispensing with the clutch resulted in frightening noises from the gearbox, so I quickly forgot that idea.
The gearchange action improved after I'd adjusted the free play in the drive chain, from 1 1/2 inches to 1 inch. Studying the pile of service receipts that came with the bike, I found out the Yam was on its second O-ring job, the first having lasted about 8000 miles — a stock chain was charged at £215 to replace and fit! Help!
It also appeared to be running through a set of Pirelli Phantoms every 3000 miles at just under a hundred notes a set. Three sets of disc pads were required every four grand. I was greatly relieved to find that the mail order houses could supply pads at £8.50 a set (instead of stock £21) and an O-ring chain for £37...
I soon found another problem with the Yam, sustained riding in traffic would make it very hot, and the trick electronic ignition would lose its way, making the engine stutter and cough. A quick blast free of the traffic soon cleared the engine. The ignition has an advance that varies with engine load. This is fine for most of the time, giving lots of low down torque and a nice kick in the backside at 100mph, but London traffic does take its toll on the 125hp, 16 valve, DOHC four.
The engine design is quite advanced for Yamaha. I mean it actually has gear primary drive instead of those silly chains they used to have in the XJ series. The camshafts have their own plain bearings (Honda please note) and the lobes act directly on the four valves per pot — and require infrequent attention.
The short stroke engine (74 x 64mm) ensures that piston speeds never become terminal even at ten grand. The 35mm CV carbs are quite small for this kind of power, but they do stay in balance for a long time. Shoving the alternator under the carbs saves a few inches in engine width, but means there's another chain to worry about.
The reasonable engine width, a cunningly shaped wet sump and lower frame rails that are detachable and only hold the engine in position, means that the engine can be mounted low yet doesn't scrape when the bike is banked over. Neat thinking.
Yamaha's lateral frame concept is plastered over the fairing and doesn't really mean all that much in strict engineering terms. Suffice to say, the use of two hefty rectangular steel tubes running from the headstock to the swinging arm, via some dubious steel plates, holds everything in line. There are much neater ways of dealing with ,the frame, but it works and the only way Yamaha could Improve the bike is by losing some more weight.
On the motorway this mass doesn't matter — it probably aids the feeling of security and the Yam feels as stable at 150mph as it does at 70 - and the stylish half fairing actually makes excesslve speed rather pleasant. The only time the sixteen inch wheels become twitchy is when the tyres have less than 2mm tread — it's never as bad as the tea-trolley XS1100, more like an old Honda 750 four - a bit of wallowing and weaving, but no speed wobbles.
The FJ is supposed to have adjustable damping and preload for the forks and the single shock, but in reality everything has to be turned up full - unless you actually like BMW type dive and ride. I tried an example of the FJ1100 with 55000 miles on the clock, with stock suspension that was worn out. Above the ton things became a little frightening, rather like one of the old GSX750 Suzis, whose twitchy front wheel could turn in some amusing speed wobbles - not that the Yam ever did, it just felt like it was about to at any moment.
That FJ did have an unhappy gearbox. The owner reckoned he had become used to the way the box could slip out of second or third - he could compensate for the poor change and ride around the bad gears, but it wasn't something I was going to welcome as part of my FJ ownership.
Riding the FJ, I became more and more aware of fellow owners — the bike was sufficiently rare for complete strangers to stop and exchange tales. The gearbox problem kept cropping up. As did burnt out ignition units and one owner had two camchains snap. The highest mileage I came across was 86000 miles — the owner claimed that the gearbox was still fine and apart from routine servicing he hadn't done anything to the bike. He did admit that he had never taken it over the ton and rarely took the rev counter past six grand.
The more miles I put on the bike, the more impressed I became with its behaviour. It needed the chain adjusted every 400 miles, the engine oil changed every 2000 miles and I could keep the pads and tyres going to around five grand by letting them wear down beyond their safe limits - it wasn't so much the cost, more that I didn't need the hassle.
The crisp, cool months of February and March went by in a haze of mileage both in the UK and Europe. When it did rain, the fairing provided a little protection — better than nothing, but nowhere near as good as the old RS BMW job. I still had to dress up in layers of clothes, topped with Belstaffs that did little to impress young ladies, but meant I was still able to function whenever I reached my destination. The engine roared into life first press of the button, and although quiet it was the kind of noise that was somehow reassuring and dependable.
When travelling long distances the only minor problem was the range of the fuel tank. In theory the tank can take over five gallons, but the gauge shows empty after less than a hundred miles, forty miles later a warning light comes on and after a further twenty miles the bike cuts onto reserve and goes completely dead. The first time this happened I reached down for the lever only to find that there wasn't one. As I was overtaking a car at that moment this wasn't a very funny revelation. I eventually deduced that you had to remove the side panel to find the petrol tap. Very clever, Yamaha. By the way, if you're silly enough to lose a side panel it'll cost you a mere seventy five notes to buy a new one...
UK road conditions make it impossible to thrash the Yam. Keeping under six grand equates to 100mph cruising speed, so it's very easy to lose a driving licence. Treated thus the bike returns between 45 and 50mpg. If you travel legally it improves to just under 60mpg. Cruising flat out on derestricted German roads returns 35mpg. It could have been much worse.
The 125hp equates to a true top speed of 150mph (161mph on the clock). Achieving this speed needs a very long road because the engine has run out of steam by the time there's 140mph on the speedo.
From the ton to this speed there's bags of grunt and it's just a matter of sitting there and rolling on the throttle - a gross exaggeration actually, betause such speeds turn straight roads into a series of difficult curves and you need the reflexes of an ace space invader player to deal with the apparent suicidal behaviour of even disciplined German car drivers, everything does begin to happen very fast when you go that quick. The joys of 150mph soon begin to fade under the threat of being squashed by the antics of .some damn foreign playboy in a hurry to get to his yacht, mistress, or villa in the sun.
Fortunately, the Yam could change direction at very high speeds with remarkable ease. It didn't even object to a vicious change in direction when the brakes had been hastily applied - for once, the anti-dive doesn't mess up the handling — the Yam's set-up only seemed to work above 120mph, anyway.
Twin eleven inch front discs with opposed piston callipers were almost as efficient as riding the Yam into a brick wall, although in the wet they could lock up the wheel (no wet weather delay here) due to lack of feedback, but I was able to become accustomed to the brakes after two thousand miles and keep the wheel from locking up. The editor will be pleased to know that the rear disc wasn't much use and could happily have been replaced with a decent drum. Even with the pads almost down to the metal, they didn't fall out of the caliper so this is a major step forward by Yam designers when compared with their older discs.
The front discs were very handy when racing the Yam down the back roads. Tremendous acceleration down the straights, followed by a handful of brake before shoving the bike over. Where possible using both sides of the road to straighten out the curve. Halfway round the curve whack open the throttle — the back wheel shudders a little but the tyres stick to the tarmac, so no problem. If there's a car in the way, the, FJ can take either a quick change in direction or a sudden handful of brake - or even both. For something that weighs 550lbs to do that on bumpy roads says a lot about eighties frame and suspension technology. Yeah, I know a Norton 650SS will do the same thing but that doesn't have either the braking or engine power of the Yam. It's a whole new motorcycle world in the high tech eighties, kids.
I've ridden a GPZ900 and a Suzuki GSXR750 (for a very short and frightening blast) and can say that I prefer the Yam as it is more relaxed and rather more stable than the GPz at very high speeds, if just a little slower to throw around at slower speeds. All the late seventies and early eighties stuff from 750cc up just can't match the FJ in the handling stakes - there really has been a leap in technology.
The rear suspension survives the winter well, it's just a question of the damping going AWOL between thirty and thirty five grand at both ends. Even at 125hp the motor is still a tough unit. Really thrashed units will burn out the exhaust valves, fry the clutch and need a rebore at forty grand - but you'll need a race track to do that kind of damage to the engine.
The gearbox is a little suspect but easy enough to check. The ignition unit more difficult to predict because it'll suddenly just stop working. The FJ1100 is far from cheap to run. It eats tyres, chains and pads at a very silly rate even if the power is used moderately. The fuel economy is reasonable and it doesn't use any oil between changes.
Vibration is noticeable beyond 120mph in fifth and when accelerating harshly in low gears, but it's really nothing to worry over - you can ride for 500 miles in a day without any ill effect (helped by a good riding position and comfy seat); it's as good a long distance cruiser as a BMW but a better handler, in the twisty stuff despite its excess mass.
The quality of finish, and attention to the little details, is excellent. The bike with eighty five grand on the clock still looked pretty good - that's one of the things about FJs, they tend to attract the more mature owner.and are well looked after, unlike some GPZ900s which get thrashed from new and look a little tatty after two or three years.
Having made the transition from British to Jap bike ownership, I'm quite happy with the Yam and have no intention to change it for one of the latest race replicas. To be perfectly honest, the Yam goes as fast as I will ever want to go, it's got enough acceleration to make most everything else look plain silly and I couldn't accept anything that was even more expensive to run. To some the FJ will just be a rich man's toy, but there are enough enthusiasts about who are willing to make the sacrifices and who will get one hell of a lot of a joy out of the bike.
I just hope that there are no major engine problems on mine, because the price of spares for the engine (and the chassis) are extortionate and I doubt if there are very many in the breakers. I'll let you let you know if anything goes wrong in the next year.
Khraachnnngg! The undercarriage of the grossly overladen Honda 750 four scraped round another narrow IOW corner. A couple of weeks holiday in the West Country and the Isle of Wight were nearly over. We whined onto the jetty and I killed the whispering CB750 motor. It was 1977, summer, and we were waiting for the ferry to take us back to the mainland.
Another newish bike pulled up beside us, also two up. I was already fairly disenchanted with the Honda, but as soon as this other bike arrived I went off the four completely. I asked the other rider if he wanted to swap bikes, and I meant it. He grinned and said, you must be joking, without even hesitating.
His bike was a tasty black and silver, with twin front discs, spoked alloy wheels and a rorty parallel twin OHC engine. The Honda looked dull and wimpish beside the Yamaha, I knew I needed to get my hands on an XS650...
In fact, it was some eight years, and many bikes later before the process of actually owning one started. I'd looked at a couple of £350 examples locally which were obviously worn out and on the point of dislntegratlon after a decade or so of profound neglect and sadistic battering. There were some in MCN, but they were either in the Outer Hebrides or Cornwall or far too expensive. I was becoming impatient, especially as my last bike had exploded in a minor way.
The next week's MCN had an advert which sent me running to the phone, 1979 X5650, very low mileage, excellent condition, sidewinder exhaust, £500. I didn't care where it was, I had to look at it that night. The bike sounded great over the phone - I tried to ask searching questions but my technique was lamentable.
All I could do was gaze at my mental picture of a gleaming black and silver twin. Good judgement had taken the day off. Half an hour later we began a four hour car drive to Leigh-on-Sea with all my riding gear and a fat bundle of notes at the ready.
We arrived well after midnight. The vendor wheeled it under a streetlamp where it gleamed and sparkled seductively. It looked very clean; the engine, in particular was practically spotless — the 6000 miles on the clock seemed possible. However, even to my besotted, myopic vision it was obvious that the bike had been dropped. Bent and scratched front mudguard, a scored LH brake caliper and non-matching speedo and rev counter could have told me a lot - if I'd listened.
The seller told me he'd bought the bike from a bloke who had a minor prang and given up motorcycling as a consequence. It had been off the road for several years and the genuine mileage was, in fact, nearer to 2000, as the original speedo was broken and replaced. Oh yes, the frame and forks had been professionally checked for staightness... here's a year's MOT.
Motorcycling lust filled my heart. The vendor could have told me that the bike was blue-printed by Pops Yoshimura and ridden to first place In the TT by Captain Pugwash and I would have believed him. Even after my 2am test ride revealed that the XS only ran on one pot at low revs, steered like a wheelbarrow full of wet cement and vibrated like a jackhammer, I was still convinced that it only needed a little sorting.
Over coffee in the owner's flat £160 changed hands. Half an hour later the car and bike convey pulled out of Southend, heading north again. I felt excited and pleased until we reached the main road and I found I couldn't keep up with the car - a clapped £50 Renault six which could normally be outperformed by an half decent Raleigh wisp.
It was a long, tormented ride home, a 60mph grind. Filling the tank on the A1, I couldn't help noticing the incontinent carbs. Terrific. I could draw some small comfort from the bike's gutsy looks, but the excitement of ownership was draining away almost as fast as Shell's best 4 star.
Back on the road, dreadful vibration and worse performance plunged me into an even darker mood, not helped by the bike's tendency to pull viciously to the right.
Was I angrier with myself or Southend Smiling Boy. Don't know... but if it hadn't been for the fact that I badly needed sleep, that my shoulders were dislocated from trying to keep both wheels pointing in the same direction, and that the Yam probably wouldn't have returned without bursting into flames, I would have gone back and beaten us both up with the sidewinder exhaust which was conveniently falling off in any case.
A fortnight later, having done what little I could with the time and money available to make the XS run better, l lashed sleeping bag, spares and tools on the pillion, setting off for hols in France, hoping to go down to Marseille. I should have known better.
Not far from Orleans night was falling. I sprawled at the foot of a large oak on the edge of a vineyard overlooking the Loire. I ate the last of my bread and cheese, finished the bottle of local wine and listened to the crickets for a few minutes before dozing off under the stars. Peace, perfect peace... except the goddamned stinking bike was knackered. I'd be trying to limp home on it at first light.
All that day I'd listened to engine or gearbox noises becoming worse. By evening, rumbling knocking noises were clearly audible even over the loud exhaust bouncing off French village walls. Hoping for an obvious cause, I'd checked for loose clutch, gearbox sprockets, etc., but the noises clearly came from deep within the engine crankcases. Working on a fifty—fifty chance I'd been prepared to press on, but when the bike stopped charging for no apparent reason (other than sadism), I took the cotton wool out of my ears and admitted defeat.
The ride back to England was not pleasant. Over 3000rpm the engine noise was alarming enough to bring drinkers out of cafes to see what in the nom of the Diable was going on. Below three grand the motor just died - it took a team of pushers or superhuman powers to make it run again.
I stopped at a friendly garage/cafe to boost charge the battery, eat and try to swap the Yam for a VeloSolex or even a pushbike. But no-one was interested and my manic ride up the coast continued.
I just made the boat at Boulogne before dark, after narrowly avoiding arrest for refusing to cut the engine at a dockside document check. At Dover I spent hours going through the entire charging system (quaint aIn't it? - Ed) to achieve absolutely nothing.
Sweating and furious, l roared out of the ferry terminal into the dark Kentish night. After 15 miles the lights and engine expired simultaneously, and the last night of my non holiday was spent in a pear orchard dreaming of reliable Honda fours.
I was so disgusted with the XS650, and with myself for having bought it, that the dirty black heap was shoved cruelly to the back of the shed, and left to rot all over winter. In Spring I stripped the engine, finding badly scored pistons and bore, broken up main bearings and various other defects indicative of considerable mileage or abuse.
After reviewing my options, from the scrapheap upwards, I decided to go a bit mad and have the motor bored out to 840cc. I also found the root cause of the terrible pulling to one side - surprise, surprise, the frame was bent on one side the engine was 1/2 an inch closer to the rear wheel that the other. Also, the forks were bent and one of the yokes had a one inch crack right through it.
At that point, what should have been my pride and joy was a pile of assorted scrap worth about 50p. 1 did manage to resist the temptations of suicide, however, and the rides I've had on the 840 twin have almost compensated for the earlier anger and despair.
I feel I ought to add that both speedo bulbs blew the other day. Not a very significant thing in itself, but dismantling the instrument to fit replacements revealed somebody's handiwork with a hacksaw blade. The plastic inner barrel of the speedo has been neatly sawn to allow the mileometer's numbers to be turned back - what was that address in Southend?
It can be pretty traumatic, trying to buy a second hand bike, especially if you're after a powerful machine. You'll be looking at the bike through rose tinted spectacles, which could easily overlook various faults, keenness for that extra power overcoming all sane thoughts. It could end up that you're halfway to selling the bike to yourself - which will please the seller no end.
If you can contain yourself and give the bike a good look over, then you could save yourself from buying an old nail, or at least knock a few quid off the asking price.
First, make sure you view the bike in good light, many sins are hidden by darkness or neon street lamps. The general state of the bike can tell you a lot. A dirty, messy bike's hardly likely to have had much in the way of maintenance. Dirt can also hide tell tale bumps and scratches from a spill. Also check out bent levers, cracked paint around the headstock and crystallised electrolyte around the battery also suggests the bike's been dropped.
Anyone selling a decent bike should have MOTd it and the sight of a valid tax disc helps to indicate a modicum of honesty. At the same time remember that a MOT only shows the bike's met the minimum requirements at the time of the test, and doesn't, really mean anything with regards to the condition of the engine.
Check the suspension by pushing down on the handlebars, and then do the same at the back. You're looking for a smooth return action to show that the damping is in order.
Make sure there's no oil seepage and that the front fork sliders aren't pitted. Oil leaks from the suspension are a common cause of MOT failure. Forks fitted with gaiters help save the seals but can also hide damage.
Tyre condition can tell you a lot about the state of the frame and suspension, as well as the attitude of the rider. Less than 1mm of tread is illegal, but less than 2mm makes them dubious on wet roads. If there's uneven wear then either the tyre is unbalanced, the chain adjusters are out of line or the frame is bent. This may make the blke wobble at high speeds.
Spokes that are unevenly tensioned (check for an even tone by running a screwdriver over them) will also cause uneven tyre wear and can cause the wheel to break up.
Cracks in alloy or Comstar wheels will cause them to break up and there shouldn't be any dents or bumps in the rims of any type of wheel.
Run your thumb over the face of the brake discs to feel for any deep ridges - scored discs will need to be replaced, and are a sign of the owner running the pads after they have worn down to the metal. Check that the pads still have some meat above the red wear lines. This is a good way to avoid suicide.
Check the reservoir levels, especially the rear disc brake, if fitted, as this is usually neglected. Spin the wheels, being on the lookout for spongy brakes and pads that are sticking on and make it difficult to rotate the wheel. Drum brakes are simpler to check, it's just a matter of checking the pointers on the drums to see how much shoe life is left. Very work drum brakes will eventually lock up the wheel permanently.
Check wheel bearing by trying to shake the wheel along its axle - if it moves you'll have to pay out for new bearings. Check the swinging arm bearings in a similar manner these are cheap to buy but often nasty to replace. Hooked rear sprocket teeth will mean a new chain and two new sprockets, otherwise buying just one new component will result in its rapid demise.
The rear chain is often a giveaway to the rider's attitude to maintenance. Free play at the chain's centre (on the lower run) should be around one inch. Spin the wheel and feel for any tight spots - the sure sign of a worn out chain. Check the adjusters to see how much movement is left. Some people take a link out of the chain, which gives the impression of plenty of chain life.
The handlebars should swing easily from side to side. Check the bearings by jerking on the bottom of the forks.
Test all the electrics, horn, indicators, dipped and full beam, brake lights, etc. Check brake and clutch cable to see if they are frayed or cracked (on the outers) and that both levers operate smoothly. See that there's plenty of adjustment left.
Look over the engine for oil leaks, not forgetting to check the frame rails under the engine where oil leaks often collect. Many bikes have a small leak between head and cylinder which doesn't seem to matter. Oil leaks on Jap engines should be minimal.
See if the engine is cold before it's started, otherwise it may be that the owner has kept it warm to impress you with its easy starting. Rev the engine a bit and see how long it takes to get back to idle. Turn the bars to see if the throttle cable is trapped. Feel around the engine and exhaust for air leaks.
There are many different noises the engine can make that tell you something about its condition. Rattles could mean a loose camchain, slapping means the engine needs new rings or a re-bore. Valves in trouble make a faint popping sound. Blue smoke out of the exhaust or engine breather means piston or valve trouble. Try to listen to as many similar engines as possible to get an idea of what should naturally be present - some engines should be quiet, others rattle away but are perfectly sound.
The test ride will give the final impression of the bike. Look for any wobbles, listen for strange noises and run the bike through the gearbox. You'll need a passport or driving licence as security. Unfortunately, all of this can still miss some well disguised rogue bike.
There are some unscrupulous dealers who lash up insurance write offs, advertise them in small ads, selling them from their homes as if they were ordinary punters. They use all the old tricks; switching speedos to give false mileages and thick oil in the sump to quieten down noisy engines. There's two ways to spot them. If the name of the vendor hasn't been in the logbook for very long or if they don't know which machine you're talking about when you phone up (if they are advertising more than one bike).
A final word of warning. Not everyone is out to do you. Most bikers are fond of their bikes, so avoid being over critical. If the bike's going cheap, it's because the seller admits that the bike has faults and has set the price accordingly. Haggle by all means, but don't overdo it
On the otherhand if the bike's expensive don't assume it's as good as the price indicates...
I bought my Laverda 500 Alpina new back in 1977. My reasons for buying this bike were that it was relatively simple, had an air of quality, performed adequately (in both wet and dry) and had reasonably low running costs to offset its high purchase price of £1800.
The Laverda engine has pistons that move up and down alternatively, unlike British bikes and this helps to minimise vertical twin vibration without the use of balance shafts. The out of phase pistons are noticeable below 3000rpm, but this is felt as a distant roughness that fades into the background with use and has become no worse with age.
Between 3000 and 6500rpm the engine was very smooth, becoming smoother still for the first 30000 miles and thereafter becoming a little rough, but having little effect on the rider. Beyond 6500mm (80mph in sixth) the engine vibrates rather badly — and this has gradually become more intense, until after 45000 miles I only ventured Into such regions when I needed some very rapid acceleration.
DOHCs control four valves per pot through buckets and shims. The exhaust valves needed adjustment every 800 miles. Due to poor oil supply, at 16000 miles two valves on the left pot were burnt away and I found a crack between the stud hole and the combustion chamber on the right hand side. Luckily, I picked up a new head off a nearly new bike from the local breakers for only £60. This seems much better, and I've only had to adjust the valves every 2500 miles, although I do check them at 5000 miles. Because of the shims from the spare head, I've even avoided having to buy any shims.
The crankshaft is a rather odd and unique piece of engineering. It's a built up job with three main ball and roller bearings. Unlike the Jap twins where there's a bearing each side of the central camshaft drive, one side on the Laverda is unsupported. This may look strange and I had to replace the original crank at 22000 miles, again due to poor lubrication (shot mains and big-ends) and the new crank is now making some knocking noises! I know one chap who went through three cranks in 35000 miles, definitely worth listening to carefully.
I had to replace the camchain and tensioner at 20000 miles (again from the breakers) and again at 45000 miles. I could have probably left them for a few thousand miles but I found the rattle rather annoying and it wasn't worth risking wrecking the engine. Amazingly, the engine is still on the original pistons and bore. Helped by 1000 mile oil changes and the fact that I've never thrashed the thing. I've talked to a few owners and a re-bore around 20000 miles seems quite common, so I've been very lucky.
Primary drive is by helical gear (unlike the 750SF) - this whines a little and from 52000 miles onwards there has been some jerkiness in the transmission - it used to be very, very smooth right down to 20mph in sixth, now I have to have forty on the clock for smooth riding.
The multi-plate clutch was fine for the first 17000 miles - very light and plenty of feedback. For the next four thousand miles it dragged after half an hour in a traffic jam. Then it started slipping above 6000rpm. A new set of plates solved the problem for the next ten thousand miles. Then I had to replace the body (breakers again - £20) and I haven't had any problems since. Clutches are dodgy on this model.
The six speed box has a very direct action and it's quite possible to take off in second if you're not in a hurry. First gives some very rapid acceleration that'll have some more racy bikes wondering just what hit them. From forty thousand onwards the change between second and third, and third and fourth, became vague and unless the engine's under power it's easy to find a false neutral.
The engine displaces 497cc from a bore and stroke of 72 x 61mm, it gives 45hp at 8000rpm. Twin 32mm Dellorto carbs have accelerator pumps that turn the motor on at six grand, but there is also plenty of torque at lower revs. The engine lets the bike potter along like the old British stuff or you can rev the heart out of the engine like a Jap twin, coming close to 110mph at 9000rpm - but the vibes have always discouraged me from holding more than a 80mph cruising speed. As I always take the back roads I find this no problem.
This neatly brings us to the chassis. Despite its Italian parentage the suspension has always been supple, not quite up to BMW standards, but it doesn't twist or dive, so it's an excellent compromise. It maintained its performance for the first forty thousand miles, then gradually deteriorated until I felt compelled to replace the rear shocks at 52000 miles (yet again from the breakers £25/pair). My only complaint concerns the swinging arm bearings which were replaced under warranty at 5000 miles, and were out of action by 12000 miles. Even from new, there was free play at the back wheel. The bearings seem to be made of some hard rubber, so this isn't so surprising. I talked a mate into making some phosphor bronze items up on his lathe.
I had a lot of trouble making these fit, but the improved rigidity of the rear end has removed a slight shimmy from the bike in fast corners and I'm still on the original set, although I do have some spares sitting on my shelf waiting for them to wear out.
This also improved the chain wear. It used to wear out by 8000 miles despite regular lubrication and adjustment every 400 miles. It now lasts between 14 and 18000 miles with adjustment required at 650 miles. I should have tried to find a full chain enclosure but could never convince myself that they really did improve chain life by enough to justify its cost.
The bike weighs under 400lbs and is easy to manoeuvre in town and down country lanes. My one reservation concerns the cast alloy wheels and discs. Removing these for fitting new tyres I noticed that they were very, very heavy. The three discs are solid cast iron which helps explain this. As this is all unsprung weight it could have an effect on the handling - in fact, the only time I notice it is when the bike whitelines or follows indentations in the road, it‘s very reluctant to change direction. Oh, on the one or two occasions when I really rode the bike on its limits, it didn't like trying to switch direction. but the speedo did read 110mph and any Jap twin would have been bouncing and twisting.
The twin ten inch discs with Brembo calipers worked In wet or dry conditions, as did the single rear disc. I have to strip down the caliper every 15000 miles, but my real complaint is pad wear - 4500 miles on the front and 6000 miles on the rear. I've tried numerous different makes and they seem to make no difference so I fit the cheapest I can find (£7.25 a set).
Tyre wear was reasonable with Pirellis lasting 7500 miles on the rear and 10500 on the front. These give the bike great confidence in both wet and dry weather - the Alpina is one of those bikes you can leap on and ride off on in complete confidence, and one on which you're always aware of the reaction of the tyre to the road. In 70000 miles I've never fallen off, so that speaks volumes for the bike.
The electrics held up well for the first 20000 miles. The electronic ignition was replaced at 33500 miles. I rewired the bike at 22000 miles and replaced all the switchgear at 3000 miles with BMW stuff (£30 from breakers). Rear lamps blow every six thousand miles but it's still on the original and excellent Bosch headlamp! The indicators were removed at 38500 miles. The alternator has been rewound two times and I'm on my second rectifier and regulator.
Fuel has averaged 60mpg which I've found quite reasonable. I want to keep it the bike until there's 100000 miles on the clock. It hasn't been trouble free, but it's been easy and cheap enough to repair and has never failed out on the road. The finish is still reasonable, but I've put a lot of elbow grease into it. I'm still very happy with it.
For some time I had been sneaking out to the garage on a regular basis and fiddling with a small forgotten heap in a corner while piling up pressure on my parents to let me have the small heap done up - with their money, of course. Eventually, just after my seventeenth birthday, Barnaby was wheeled out into the sunshine and I began removing the engine. Manual in hand, I removed bolts, nuts, bits and bobs, drained tanks, disconnected electrics - then the man came and took Barnaby away to be done up.
A week later back came Barnaby. A small battered, sand coloured Honda C70. You may laugh, but it meant freedom to me. I drove Barnaby for about two years, during which time I learned to allow half an hour for starting it and the peculiarities of bump starting with and without helpful slopes.
We had one accident, Barnaby and I, down in Radlett. As we rounded a bend we saw a red car sitting at a side turning."stay there," I muttered, hoping it wouldn't try to pull out before I passed it, and stayed. Until I passed the in mouth of the road, then it pulled out. Barnaby and I cannoned into its offside wing and parted company. As I lay in the road wondering what happened now, the car driver wrenched my visor off and said "your llp is bleeding." Good job I hadn't broken anything - he could well have done great damage. As the ambulance carted me off to St. Albans General all I could say was "Where's my bike? Is my bike OK?"
You can put your hankies away now, I wasn't badly injured and Barnaby only had to have an indicator and mud flap replaced plus a little straightening out. You simply can't go fast enough on small bikes to do much damage to yourself — unless you're unlucky enough to collide with a car coming the other way.
The summer of 1986 saw the arrival of Rodney. A smart new Honda C90 (tut, tut Ed.) Power!!! I passed my faithful old Barnaby to my sister and took to the open roads. In fact I drove that C90 from Norwich to London and back several times; we navigated Inner London, Inner Norwich and countless small country lanes: then came our finest hour.
My husband, after many bikerless years was finally driven mad by the withdrawal symptoms (you know the ones, reading endless bike mags, crawling around every bike left in public parking places, raving about the comparative virtues of twins and goodness knows what else...) and bought himself a Honda CB250RS - I christened it Roland. At last an incentive to higher things.
I joined a Keyrider training course - 8 weeks of Sunday mornings in October and November starting at 9.30am. The instructors were all hard-bitten, long term bikers with large Japanese machines (Goldwings seemed popular) and, guess what? Yes, all men! The language was colourful, but I'm no prude and passed their proficiency test, even managing to master some of the basics of maintenance. The following week came Part 1.
That devious ministry test designed to daunt even the bravest - especially if your machine has no clutch and in order to drive slowly enough to navigate bollards (yes I said BOLLARDS) you have to rev very hard and brake simultaneously.
I passed. Or rather, Rodney and I passed. We sang all the way home - we could never have done it without the Keyrider course, full marks to them.
Part 2 loomed large. I decided to get it over with. Two more sessions on the road with the Keyrider men (it's alarming being followed at 25mph by a Honda 500-4 when you're only little) and I reported at a heavy goods vehicle centre for my test on Decembér 23rd. It was raining and the examiner had cultivated his executioner's look to perfection. Trying to get out of the test centre onto a very busy ring road was a nightmare.
Ten minutes later the examiner threatened to terminate my test if I didn't make a move."That's it! We've failed," I told Rodney and when the examiner's back was turned pulled out in front of two artics! The test proper began.
The examiner made us drive up and down, in and out, round and round, emergency stops whenever he jumped out in front of us (yes, I was tempted not to stop) and eventually I was ordered back to the test centre. He grilled me under bright lights on maintenance and highway code and told me off for not knowing the principal cause of skidding was incorrect cornering, then told me I'd passed.
To say I was astonished would be poetic licence. I nearly hugged the horrible little man. However, he neatly sidestepped and wrote out the certificate.
So, what comes next? Well, I shall have to learn to drive Roland (the RS250). It still seems ludicrous that I have passed on little more than a moped and am now qualified to ride a 1300. There's no stopping me now...
You may have noticed my attitude to my bikes has been somewhat different to your average motorcyclist - I prefer to see my bikes as friends.
The front wheel twitched on the last piece of white line. The revs spun towards the nine grand mark. I fired a blast from the air horns as an elderly Escort poked its nose out of the line of Sunday drivers. Too little, too late, I thought as fifty horses kicked in and we shot past, giving the drivers poor wife an attack of the runs. I kicked it up a gear, with a flick of my wrist, in a beautiful clutchless change. Eat yer heart out, Spencer.
The bend approached and I concentrated on trying to make six hundred odd pounds of recalcitrant CX500 and reluctant wife change direction in a controllable manner Looks like a two-buttock job, I thought, and shoved my rear over the side into the slipstream. We lurched over like a galleon under full sail. Thank goodness I'd changed the fork oil to heavy duty, the ride is secondhand road drill rather than Mk.1 blancmange. We were away up the straight and into the next bend before the following convey came into sight.
A familiar succession of one buttock bends lay ahead and I concentrated on trying to get the right line. The bends seemed to flow together in a continuous wave of motion which pleased me as it can't be how Honda's designers had intended the bike to be ridden.
Our turn off appeared and we settled down to potter along in top at about two thousand revs. I'd been getting signs of disapproval from the pillion area and was glad to give my ribs a rest from the assault.
Quite comfortable really, I mused. The sun came out and the road shimmered and curled in the heat. The V-twin chattered and whined away happily. The sea appeared from time to time and the road snaked away under the front wheel; sheer enjoyment.
We stopped in a car park, feeling at peace with the world. Suddenly the scenery rotated and we capsized into a struggling heap on the floor. Is she all right, I thought, checking the bike anxiously. Phew, no damage. I turned to help my wife extract herself. Now my wife is a lady 95% of the time, the other 5% is reserved for moments like these.
Magically people began to appear as two dissenting adults freely expressed themselves. Why is there always an audience when I fall off? It took the two of us to lift the bike upright. It's at moments like this when you realise just how top heavy the CX is. Normally, you don't notice until you stop when you quickly learn to plant your feet firmly. I've also found the bike handles best with two on board.
I bought the CX a year ago and gave it a thorough going over, greasing everything that needed it and some that didn't, cleaning and checking brakes (I've never been happy about sliding calipers), until I was content that all was as it should be.
The across the frame V-twin is water-cooled and, despite the gauge going into the red, I've never had it overheat. The use of a chain driven camshaft halfway up the engine, and pushrods and rockers for the four valves per pot, is perhaps an unusual way of dealing with the valves but it seems to be acceptable. The clearances don't go out of adjustment very often, and you can rev the engine to over ten grand if you're mechanically insensitive without apparent damage. I've never had the need to wring its neck in this fashion as fifty hp at nine grand has always been adequate for my use.
There is a certain amount of vibration but this can be kept to a minimum by careful carb balancing. The brakes are spongy as stock (braided hoses help here) but stop the bike well. I've fitted a pair of air horns which will penetrate any driver's earhole and they have saved my bacon on the odd occasion. There is also a simple touring screen that I find very effective at keeping the H20 at bay - unfortunately I have been unable to get the screen at an angle where it doesn't cause buffeting to the pillion passenger at high speeds.
The bike was first registered in 1981 and hopefully has all the mods to stop it self-destructing, but it's only done 16000 miles so it may be too soon to be sure.
To sum up, do I like the bike? Yes I do. Does the pillion? No she doesn't - seat uncomfortable after an hour, rear pegs too high causing bad circulation and aching legs.
Conclusion: The CX is a dual purpose compromise that can be used for commuting (quite flexible and economy between 50 and 60mpg) or you can wind the revs up and use the fifty horses — I'm over forty now but I'm rarely overtaken when I'm in a hurry, especially in traffic. It may not be very pretty but I like it.
The police car had been following for a few minutes It had probably been attracted by the Marshall four-into-one exhaust that was a little, er, loud. I had the gearbox stuck in top, with the minimum of revs to quiet things down. Somewhere in amongst the battered bodywork and grimy engine there was a valid tax disc and save for indicators that didn't work everything was just about legal, so I wasn't about to try to shake the law off my tail.
They stopped me and insisted I had been doing 70mph down some city streets. Natch, I denied this, as l was exactly aware of when the police car had started to tail me. One officer of the law tweaked the throttle until the revs were in the red. The bike was shaking almost as much as myself at the thought of the possible damage to a 70000 mile old engine still on most of its original components.
The noise was enough to shatter milk bottles at a hundred yards. The other pig tried to pull the seat off, then the tank, then the wheels and the forks. He didn't have much luck. I showed them my documents it always helps as they can get away with the minimum paperwork if you don't have to take them to the police station at a later date. They didn't bother with the lights or indicators and gave me a stern warning about fixing the exhaust.
I listened to the engine trying to ascertain the amount of damage caused by the brutal revving of the engine. There was the usual rattle from out of balance carbs and a worn clutch body, the noisy valvegear I couldn't be bothered to adjust and a bit of piston slap from worn out bores. The engine seemed to have survived another bout of thrashing.
When I first bought the '79 bike three years ago it was a nice clean runner with 35000 miles on the clock and still capable of putting 140mph on the speedo. These days it is unhappy going beyond 120mph, a graunching vibration set in and smoke started pouring out of the exhaust; something that also happened on the overrun. It used a pint of oil every 250 miles - it was leaking out of the head/barrel joint and from between the crankcase halves. But I didn't really care, the big old straight four still had bags of torque at low revs and could run along at the ton.
Fuel consumption had dropped from 44mpg when I first had the bike to 33mpg, which with the oil consumption did make it rather expensive to run.
The handling had been improved by Girling rear shocks and heavier springs and oil in the forks. This left the bike with 550lbs to hurl through the bends, which the poor old swinging arm just couldn't cope with at high speeds. The thing wallows in a straight line above 75mph, twists and bounces all over the road in bumpy curves and throws a total wobbler above 90mph if the thing is leant over. Worn out Dunlops don't help here, but the tread doesn't last for more than 3500 miles, so just what am I supposed to do?
The steering's naturally heavy and town riding needs plenty of muscle, especially as the front wheel falls into curves at low speeds. This takes a few miles to get used to, and I've been burned off by any number of flash 250s in London traffic.
I don't like the riding position, I always feel perched on the bike — combined with little feedback from the road, gives the chassis a very dead feel. Despite this the bike feels secure on wet roads and as long as reasonable throttle openings are used nothing nasty develops. Whacking open the throttle in wet bends makes the back wheel slide away, but shutting down again brings the rear wheel back to where it should be. For a 1000cc bike, it's reasonably easy to leap onto and speed off into the distance for the first time rider.
I've had two consistent problems — the clutch and the alternator. The clutch plates buckle (due to a warped clutch body, among other things) and the alternator keeps on burning out. The latter lasts about eight thousand miles (£25 to rewind) and the former go around ten grand before clutch slip occurs - but it does drag all the time in traffic. Alternator problems also burn out the rectifier and battery and I've taken the hint from an earlier issue of the UMG, fitting cheapo car components. I expect they will still burn out, but at least it's only a few quid to replace.
The GS doesn't like starting from cold. The bushes in the electric starter must be worn out because there's not enough power to turn the engine from cold, so I'm stuck with leaping up and down on the kickstart about six times to get the engine to grumble into life. Once warm I can usually use the electric starter. It takes about five minutes warming up to stop the bike cutting out below 2000rpm.
After a long fast ride the engine sounds like a bucketfull of nails poured into a concrete mixer and oil drips on to the floor, just like an old British twin. But it keeps on going (unlike many Brit twins - Ed.) and doesn't lose power. I've ridden six hundred miles in one day on the bike without any major problems, except for a sore bum and shoulders.
The most exciting moment was when it went into a speed wobble at 100mph on a fast curve. The damn thing sat up straight and went right across the wrong side of the road, leaping back and forth as if someone had removed the swinging arm spindle. I held on and it eventually died down. The car driver behind gave me a very odd looked as he sped past after I pulled over to give myself a chance to stop shaking - it took about half an hour.
Then there was the time I was running down the motorway with 120mph on the clock and the bike suddenly turned a mild weave into another speed wobble that felt like both tyres had simultaneously deflated. They hadn't, it was just that weak swinging arm and worn out tyres.
Then there was... but why go on, you've gotten the picture by now - the GS1000 is an old style seventies Jap four with too much mass, too much power, not enough chassis and inadequate suspension - put it alongside one of the new low slung heroes and the poor old thing would be left far, far behind - but then I paid hundreds rather than thousands for the GS, so can't really complain.
The twin disc brakes worked but required to be fed with copious supplies of new pads and demanded the occasional strip down (15000 miles) ,to clean up the calipers. The rear SLS drum also worked but hasn't been fitted with new shoes since I bought the bike and hasn't given any trouble. Can't say the same for the poor old chain drive (or rather chains) which are eaten up in 1000 miles - I eke out another two grand, suffering a poor gear change (it's a bit clonky now with a new chain). The sprockets are changed on every second chain.
Despite its high mileage, I hope to get away with just a rebore and valve regrind when I get around to taking it apart. The crankshaft, primary drive and gearbox have an ultra tough reputation. A new clutch body is all I expect to buy for the rest of the engine.
I could spend hundreds of pounds uprating the suspension - particularly a beefier swinging arm, but I'm really not that bothered. I still enjoy riding the old heap — and would rather spend money on travelling more miles than on renovating the bike.
I'll just hang on in there until either the engine noises or performance indicate that the engine needs its rebuild - and I don't expect to spend more than two hundred quid on it.
What more can I say? If you can find one in good condition then buy it — it's bound to increase in value.
Knowing several acquaintances who ride old Italian cycles, I shouldn't have been so surprised when the Pantah suddenly lost all of its illumination as we were trundling down the A118 at a mere 80mph. Some imbecile had painted the edge of the pavement white, making it resemble a white line in the neon glow. Pulling over to what I thought was the hard shoulder, fortunately, having lost 40mph, the front wheel hit the pavement.
As anyone who spent their youth trying to knock fellow pushbike owners off their mounts knows, just a gentle touch of the rival's front wheel is sufficient to leave a sprawled mass (and a broken leg in one case) in your wake. Hitting the kerb at 40mph was rather more violent, resulting in a bouncing Duke and a rider flung clear.
Wearing a thick leather jacket, gloves and boots confined the damage to a torn pair of jeans, a bleeding thigh and a bruised shoulder. Rushing after the Ducati, which had continued for 25 yards, stopping in the centre of the road, I picked up 430lbs of broken metal, pushing it into the kerb before any cars could finish off the wrecking process.Naturally, the headlamp had switched itself back on. The damage wasn't too bad.
Another couple of dents in the tank, the usual bent levers and indicators and a squashed silencer. This wasn't the first time I'd fallen off the Pantah. I've found the frame, forks and cast wheels to be of very sturdy construction. A friend of mine rode one straight into the side of a bus at 40mph and the frame didn't need any straightening, although the front wheel ended up touching the front pot of the 90° vee twin engine.
It only took some careful heating over the gas-stove and some gentle bending to rehabilitate the levers. The silencers were almost rusted through after 4 years, so were due for replacement, anyway. And, I was saving up my pennies for a respray; for the moment, the dented tank matched the rusting frame and grimy wheels. The paintwork of this '83 bike was rather too typical of Wop attitudes to anything other than basic engineering necessities.
Don't think that all my crashes were a result of poor handling from the Duke - they were caused by either my own stupidity or that of a third party. The Pantah is probably a bit of a heavyweight for a 500 these days, but it has most of the basics in its favour. The forks are just as strong as those on the older vees but rather more supple and they are just as well damped and precise as when I bought the bike new. The shocks aren't quite up to that quality and really need replacing after 2 1/2 years, although they are still hung on the back end. The swinging arm bearings are a bit of a weak point - in 40000 miles I've had to replace three sets.
The combination of tubular frame and stressed engine works well with newish swinging arm bearings; with a bit of wear the bike is upset by bumpy curves, but I've never had a speed wobble out of the thing. With most of the engine mounted low, it has a favourable centre of gravity for flicking through curves not as quick as the single but better than the older vees. At ton plus speeds it can go into a mild weave but it's not the kind of thing that leads to wet underpants. Motorway cruising at the ton is rock solid (and the bike does 45mpg).
Wet weather riding is impressive with a great feeling of security and tyres that never suddenly lose traction. The mild nature of the engine below five grand helps here as there are never any sudden bursts of power to upset the balance of the bike. The discs even work well in the wet, although pad wear at both ends means three sets are needed every 600 miles. Expensive.
Whacking on all the brakes in emergency stops tends to throw the rider over the handlebars and when the going gets really desperate there is a very slight, inexplicable tendency for the bike to steer to the left (probably all those crashes - Ed.) - but this is corrected with just a little pressure on the bars.
The calipers are resistant to the deluge of rain water that constantly hits the poor old UK - I've had to take them apart just once, at 21000 miles. Hardly any hydraulic fluid is used and neglect of regular changes doesn't impair braking efficiency.
The desmo heads have OHCs driven by rubber belts with no fixed life. I replaced the first one at 10000, the other at 12000, but both replacements lasted for over 20000 miles which gives some kind of reason for hope. I've heard of a few cases of snapping belts, one case resulting in the valves hitting the piston. Nasty. It pays to keep a careful check on them.
Apart from replacing these belts, I've had no trouble from the engine despite neglecting the desmo heads. My friend had the clutch explode at twenty grand on an earlier bike and I've heard quite a few tales of pre '82 bikes breaking gearboxes, so it's certainly worth checking out. A vague acquaintance claims to have run his bike to 65000 miles without stripping it down - at the cost of regular and expensive (£150 a time) services.
Power delivery is modest up to five grand but backed up by good torque, at higher revs it accelerates briskly with a nice growl. It's about equal to Jap 550s of the same period. At 90mph in top gear the bike is relaxed, power and torque coincide and there's still enough punch to knock the speedo up to an indicated 120mph (true 110mph). It returns around 50mpg cruising at 90mph. The bike has really good economy if the revs are kept below five grand, giving anything up to 70mpg. As it's still possible to cruise at reasonable speeds, the bike can work out rather cheap to run.
Riding above the ton turns a normally moderate oil consumption into an oil sheikhs dream. It takes about a pint every 300 miles. It's done this since new and seems common among 500s.
The forty eight horses the engine develops were never produced in the silky smooth manner of a straight four, l'm always aware of two pistons thumping away beneath my body, but it never wrecked anything, unlike the older singles and vee twins which could leave quite a trail of bits in their wake. The engine was smoothest between 75 and 95mph (in top gear), which was fine for me as these were the speeds I normally employed. The only thing I didn't like was the vibration on the overrun in second or third, which had the petrol tank shaking in sympathy.
The important qualities of the Pantah — handling and meaty power — have survived four years and forty thousand miles rather better than most Jap bikes subjected to an equal amount of neglect. Both the handling and the power are still very sharp. The relatively unimportant items like the finish and the electrics have decayed very rapidly, but they can be sorted with the minimum of expense and maximum of physical effort. It's just a question of finding the time and accepting that the bike will be off the road for a couple of weeks while it is repainted and rewired - and that's the problem, I just like riding the bike too much to take it off the road.
Postscript: after writing this, the gearbox has become hard to use and it's started slipping out of second and third gear. The alternator has stopped charging the battery and the lights only work intermittently. It looks like I'll be forced to take the bike off the road. i'm still determined to get another forty grand out of it. It's also started making funny noises in the crankshaft area and one of my mates reckons the mains are on the way out - but he owns a Suzi four and will say anything to put Wop Stuff down.
These bikes are loved by long term owners and hated by just about everyone else. It's the only Iron Curtain hack that has passable looks and can actually be fun to ride.
You're not going to get very much for fifty quid - an early seventies TS is the best bet. These have useless front brakes - a common replacement is the front brake off an old Honda 250 twin, a much superior TLS drum - and main bearings that can last for as little as 5000 miles, or may give no trouble whatsoever. A re-bore is needed somewhere between thirty and fifty thousand depending on neglect and the level of thrashing.
Where the TS does score is in frame and suspension, which for the time was actually way ahead of the Jap commuters (or even so-called sportsters).
The TS will run up to about 75mph on a flat road, but, more importantly, can be cruised at a useful 70mph for as long as the engine will stay together. Maintenance is all straightforward of the large hammer and cigarette paper variety. Some bikes are really well looked after and worth buying despite high mileages - there's a sort of informal competition amongst MZ owners to get a hundred grand on the clock.
Electrics are a little dodgy with the occasional burnt out bike, but they have usually been sorted by this mileage. The gearbox gives problems from 40000 miles on due to selector wear and gear teeth fatigue.
Generally speaking, the newer the bike the better it is, although many MZ owners are not too keen on the looks of the latest model. The older bikes do look quite butch and purposeful. It'll take a test ride to find out if the idiosyncrasies of the MZ is to your liking or not. As the 125 was the second largest selling bike in '86, many people seem willing to overcome that particular problem, I wouldn't buy one, but many people do.
Another two stroke single, but rarely used as just a commuter and subsequently thrashed (it'll do 75mph on a good day). Handling ls Italian stiff and stable when new, but the Wop suspension isn't of the usual high quality and wears out after twenty grand, But the handling is still quite reasonable - up to new CG125 standards, for instance.
Brakes are, er, drums but, again not top rate stuff and the extremes of performance induce mucho fade. You like living dangerously then this one will do very nicely. All the usual problems with flaking paint, peeling chrome and self igniting electrics after just two years. The engine either explodes, seizes or just gets slower when thrashed. Given reasonable treatment it may make it to 25000 miles. If you don't know anything about engines, you'll do well to give this one a miss.
I have had a quick blast on a '78 bike that was extensively rebuilt, resprayed and modified with better quality forks and brakes - it cost about £300 to do this, which is more than the bike is worth, but the owner appears happy with the end result. Engine mods include a newer crank out of a low mileage bike and. a re-bored cylinder with enlarged ports. The thing runs really well up to an indicated 80mph and is light and nimble to chuck through traffic or the back lanes (it weighs about 220lbs now, as against 250lbs stock). It averages 60mpg with the modified engine against 85mpg as standard (which can drop to 50mpg on a worn engine). Nice bike, but an expensive way of going fast. Spares and used bikes are both very rare.
Built between '78 and '82, only the earlier bikes are going to be available for fifty quid and they'll need a lot of tidying up to make them usable. I wouldn't go too far out of my way to buy one of these bikes.
I bought one of these for just £35. It hadn't been used for a few years and cut out when started. The points are hidden in the magneto and impossible to check once you've taken the magneto cover off. I suspected the condenser and took a couple of leads out of the magneto and connected them up to a car condenser (25p from Halfords) and - hey presto - one properly running B120.
These single cylinder two strokes are a bit of an eyesore - pressed steel frame, huge mudguards, enclosed chain and dumpy styling, but the engine's reliable and durable.
Handling is dubious at speeds above 40mph, same old story of poor damping making for elastic band type suspension. The brakes are OK up to 50mph, but try stopping from a flat out 65mph and the forks will twist and bounce and the brake will start to fade - it'll stop working altogether if you use it a few times like that.
Back in the sixties when Brit two strokes were miracles of self destruct engineering there was the B100P, known as the Bloop by owners who were shocked by just how reliable the thing could be. The engine will spit out the small ends or ruin the roller mains at extreme mileages or provocation, but it's so rare that it's not really worth, worrying over. Cycle parts last well. It averages 100mpg which is OK for a two stroke, although there are faster and more economical four stroke singles around.
Spares are easy and cheap to find at breakers. They don't appeal to young learners and are quite hard to sell, so finding one for just fifty quid is relatively easy. Tyre, brake shoe and chain wear are all nominal, so it's very cheap to run. At these low prices it should be possible to buy and run one for a year without significant loss of money. Worth the effort of tracking a good one down.
This rotary valve two stroke is one of the toughest units on the market. Fifty quid buys you a 1975 to '77 model. Not very fast at 60mph when it's worn out, not particularly economical at 70mpg, but the frame, suspension and cycle parts are all jolly good stuff, way ahead in the quality stakes when compared with other single cylinder commuters.
The engine buzzes along flat out for ever and the chassis doesn't hold any nasty surprises - even the SLS drum front works alright. It's possible to increase the size of the holes in the inlet disc to obtain some more power. I know someone who managed to get 75mph out of one, although low speed running was a little erratic and after six months the engine disintegrated in a rather loud manner...
There are still some around in surprisingly good condition, but don't expect too much for this kind of money, you'll need to spend some time and money putting things in order, but the KH100 is a good basis for renovation.
There aren't many in breakers, but at least Kawasaki spares are some of the cheapest around and the engine has one of the few attributes of two stroke technology - it's easy to work on and needs no special tools except for a reasonably large hammer.
Another two stroke, but this time a relatively simple reed valve single. The motor is quite a tough little unit, but the rest of the bike is very cheap and nasty.
Fifty quid equates to one of the first bikes ('74 to '75); while the engine may still be running you're going to need to visit Halfords for a couple of wire brushes to deal with the RUST. The running gear of this bike rather reminds me of the old Tiger Cubs, which had such cheap and nasty frames it made me want to throw up in disgust with the added ingredient that with computer aided design you can pare things down even further.
What really grates is that the bike tries to look like a sportster when it has suspension components little better than a Honda C90... twelve years' wear leaves the bike with the precision of a Raleigh Runabout with a flat front tyre, and this is rather disturbing because the motor still knocks out enough power to rush the bike along between sixty and seventy.
That reed valve motor is often good for 35000 miles - good going for a two stroke, so it may be worth picking up an old wreck that still runs.
A rather loud tingling noise indicates either small or big ends on the way out, the pistons can nip up in the bore if the thing's ridden flat out for a couple of hundred miles - but the engine's easy to work on and there are quite a few littering up the floor space at the breakers. Worth looking at.
This was one of those bland looking Suzukis which hid a nasty line in power development - one that needed spot on tuning to avoid holed pistons. Invariably purchased by young hoodlums who screwed the balls off the poor thing, it was designed to expire, every which way, a few thousand miles after the warranty ended.
This two stroke twin had quite big holes cut in the barrel and needed the throttle screwed three-quarters way round to make it shift. Suzuki were kind enough to put some marks on the alternator that let tune-up artists set the bike up without a strobe.
Experience and a little luck could be just as effective as technology. If the ignition timing was slightly retarded, the bike coughed and spluttered like a Gold Star at idle and if it was too advanced there was no power below six grand and then a sudden kick in the pants - for fifty or so miles until the engine overheated and, er, expired. The trick was to get it advanced just past the point where it stopped coughing. This was a weekly chore.
The tubular frame looked very flimsy and was welded by a robot who was determined to get its revenge on the human race. Give it three years of abuse and the paint and chrome would flake off the cycle parts. The disc brake was laughable after two years, it had... well, it had every nasty trait you've ever heard about early seventies discs, I say no more. The forks and shocks were also in lots of trouble after a few years - minimum damping and springing.
Riding an old GT185 is not a nice experience (they ran from '73 to '79), there's this engine that only wants to run at maximum revs, a wobbly back end (shot swinging arm bearings and shocks) and a front brake that's either on or off. Shutting off the throttle gives minimum engine braking (unlike, say, the old CD175 that has a nice growl and slows down the bike), only the slick action of the gearbox gives any hope. I'd hate to ride one in the wet. Yeah, I know, riding the thing flat out everywhere can be fun (until the wobbly handling turns into a speed wobble) but it'll soon grow tiring.
Expect frequent engine rebuilds (5000 miles, anyone?) and lots of two stroke hassle, especially if you're only going to spend fifty quid.
Now, now, stop laughing and pay attention. Forget about those podgy, post seventies, K-series CDs and go back a few years to 1967 when men were men and Honda CD175s were an altogether different kind of motorbike.
I have to admit a great deal of personal bias as regards early CD175s. It was a 1969 bike that allowed me to escape the shame, indignity and sheer danger of a three speed NSU Quickly (FS1Es did not yet exist in 1972). That CD was my first real motorcycle and one that was to take massive abuse and neglect for a year until I foolishly sold it to buy a Triton.
These earlier CDs have a similar basic layout to the newer, and much more common bikes, one that is very different in detail design. In the late sixties there was no sporting CB175 version available, so the CD had to serve both camps. It did this by having an engine that could be strung along on the minimum of throttle for those who insisted on using it strictly as a commuter, but it was also possible to rev the balls off the engine and get 90mph on the speedo. The exact revs that this equated to were not deducible as there was no rev counter, but the grinding vibration from the engine hinted that it must have been dangerously high.
The engine was a 360° vertical twln with a single carb, one cam operating two valves per pot, a four roller bearing crank that put British 500 twins to shame, and gear primary drive to a four speed box.
That gearbox was one of the minor problems of the bike - to keep up the momentum between second and third the thing had to be really caned, while changing up from first to second would often put the bike into neutral - itself impossible to find at a standstill. The gearchange movement was long and imprecise, but the clutch was light. From cold you had to shove on the front brake to stop the bike from stalling when first gear was engaged because of clutch drag.
The frame was pressed steel with no down tubes. It was a very strong affair, but let down by the usual toy town forks and shocks. It never went into a speed wobble but I had to hang off the seat to go round corners flat out otherwise it liked to go straight on. Sudden changes of direction left it very upset, unsure as whether it was going to sit down on the tarmac or just throw the rider off. Despite this, and taking quite outrageous youth inspired risks, i never fell off the bike at speed.
I did fall off going around some suburban street. A very tight, slow turn on the way to school, and the next thing I knew I was kissing the tarmac. Looked at bike, looked at road, couldn't see anything wrong. The next corner the same thing happened. Still couldn't see anything wrong, so decided it was fate telling me not to go to chemistry practical and went for a ride instead. No more falling off. Strange, huh?
Naturally, I modified the Honda by removing the baffles from the dangerously quiet silencers. Extending this easy breathing theory to removing the air filter produced a huge flat spot midway up the rev range, so that was quickly replaced. I didn't have the money to make any more mods to the Honda and, apart from the occasional oil change, didn't touch the engine.
Much to the annoyance of friends who insisted on buying Bantams and Tiger Cubs, the Honda could see off a tuned Bantam on top speed but was burned off from a standing start. But these British bikes were more often in bits so I didn't really worry.
I bought another one a few years later. This was a little slower and would oil the plug on one cylinder, but it never broke down despite similar neglect. A friend had one that broke its camchain, but it was soon repaired with no other damage. The tensioner is adjusted with a tiny screw that strips its thread - but can be repaired with Araldite... the clutch pushrod seal can be: messed up by the nearby chain sprocket but can be pulled out and replaced with a; new one... the carb leaks petrol but cleaning out the bowl or adjusting the float height solves that problem.
The engine really is much better made than later models, I don't know how or why but they are incredibly tough - these are the bikes that built Honda's reputation. Thrashed the bike returns just 40mpg, but it's quite easy to average 55mpg.
Later CD175s (K series) look, handle and perform in a vastly inferior manner, but they are very economical and cheap. They do snap their camchains quite frequently and wreck the head. OK if you're desperate and, short of the folding stuff.
I was sitting outside the Garbeth Inn, a famous biking pub that lies about five miles outside Glasgow. Drink in hand watching the more enthusiastic of us tearing up and down the Stockiemuir road on a variety of machines, mostly GPzs. I'd just had a pleasant chat with a couple of guys from England on a Kawa RX1000, the usual small talk - nice view here, yeah great, nice machine you've got there, etc. Turns out they are on holiday with their girl friends who had given them the day off to go and mix it with the local bikers (in the nicest possible way). Anyway, we talked for a while and then they finished their drinks (orange juice) and went off to meet their girl friends.
I stayed for a bit and pondered on the injustice of a world that allows the beauty of a RX1000 to co-exist with the likes of a clapped out CB550 and then finished my drink (large one) and set off to feed the cat. I felt like flicking on the auto-pilot as I rode down the familiar road. Up through the gears until you brake hard for the sharp right hander that takes you to the first of the jumps. The most vicious of these lines lies at the end of a fast left that allows you to take it at 80 to 90mph.
This usually results in the repositioning of your backside to somewhere in the middle of your back and knackered front fork seals. I saved the medical and mechanical expense by taking it at sixty (well no-one was looking). Then down through the gears for a sharp right and hard on the brakes for the ambulance in the middle of the road.
The guys on the RX1000 had died. It wasn't anybody's fault. No-one had pulled out of a side road and the road was dry and in fair condition. The bike they were riding had the best tyres money could buy, terrific brakes and state of the art suspension and chassis. Yet they had crashed and been killed. Another biker who had been riding behind said it looked like the driver of the RX had given it a handful and the back end had spun away - he was doing about 70mph when this happened...
Power, power, power - this one will lift the front wheel at a hundred, son. It's just what you need, only £3995 buy it today.
I refuse to accept the usual romantic crap such events usually bring on - man and motorcycle on tough demanding road, followed by three or four lines in the small ads: To Johnny, rode free and died young, see you on that big highway in the sky. Tell that to his mother.
What I'd like to know is what's the bloody point of owning a motorcycle that has enough power to hit 150-60-70-80 mph? Is it some indication of your skill as a rider? 1 think not, on most British roads a well sorted 500 of Italian, British or Japanese origin with a competent rider will be just as fast and probably more enjoyable than the mega-bikes that are available now. Is it an indication of how you stand relative to the society you live in (how much cash or bottle you've got)? The answer to this has to be yes, even if it is to a lower degree and with less hypocrisy than car owners. Is it some Freudian thing about your virility? I'll leave that one open for I'm no psychologist and I'd like my friends to speak to me occasionally.
Eleven people have died on the Stockiemuir road, most of them on bikes that were wildly overpowered for an eight foot wide B-road. Let's face it, it's all very well being Randy Mamola when you've got a thirty foot wide track, run off areas lovingly cultivated with nice soft grass, and a team of paramedics on hand. But try lying at the side of some godforsaken road in the middle of nowhere waiting for an ambulance while your mate tries to put your leg back together. No fun.
So what's the point of all this? I'm a bit nonplussed myself, biking's in my blood and I can't see myself ever giving it up but I'm pissed off at seeing people spread all over the road, so I think this is a call for self regulation but above all sanity. There's always going to be the plonker that pulls out on you but most of the time your destiny lies in your own hands - the right one to be precise.
So the next time you're in the dealers being given some spiel about the latest mega-machine, stand back and ask yourself do you really need this? And if the answer is no, then start hunting down that used bargain this magazine's so keen to promote. Oh yeah, buy your mum something with the change.
I picked up a 1981 XS1100 for what I thought was the bargain price of £750. The owner had seemed desperate to get rid of it. My test ride around some desperately boring housing estate streets revealed a stable bike with bags of torque. It did have a heavy clutch and jerky transmission, but I figured I could live with that. So I offered £250 under the advertised price and was somewhat surprised to find myself owner of Yam's then largest straight four.
My test ride hadn't taken the bike over 60mph; on the motorway ride home I soon realised why he'd been so keen to get shot of it. It felt like there was loads of free play in the swinging arm and as if the tyres were worn down to the carcass above 80mph. The thing weaved and wallowed in the long curves on the motorway. It was much worse than an old Honda 750 four.
I put stiff springs and heavier oil in the front forks, bought Koni rear shocks and the best tyres money could buy. The only difference it made was to make it slightly more stable in a straight line. Try braking or shutting off the throttle in a bend and the direct shaft drive would try to shake free of the back end and the bike would waltz over to the wrong side of the road. The brakes couldn't cope with 600lbs of metal and were either on or off in the wet.
As long as I kept below 70mph the bike was fine, but there wasn't much point buying a 1100 if you had to use it like a 125. I did once get 130mph on the clock but it was so frightening (it also vibrated like a Bonnie) that 1 had to back off down to 90mph after a few seconds.
Tyre wear was extremely rapid but the engine was reasonably economical (50mpg) and didn't use any oil. But I found the thing un-rideable at speed so I stuck an ad in MCN and sold it the first day at a profit. I went and bought myself a Kawa GPz550 on the proceeds.
Now that summer is coming, the thoughts of red blooded motorcyclists are turning to the Great Love, the open road. It's that touring time of year again. To hear Bertie Beemer speak, you'd think that an 800cc Bavarian twin is vital equipment to make it to the local shops. This isn't necessarily true. Some of the best times on the road are had on the smallest bikes, and anybody can go touring with a bit of savvy.
The first motorcycle I went distances on was a 100cc trail bike. My cruising speed was 42mph, perhaps a bit slow, but I loved every minute. I did 300 miles in one day, but I caught a cold and fell off twice! If you want to take a girlfriend you had better get them their own bike or you'll hate them after twenty miles. It's fun having two bikes and you've got a handy rescue vehicle for those inevitable breakdowns.
There are several arguments for touring on small bikes. You use much less fuel and you feel much more of a hero. You can reach places that you couldn't on a big, heavy bike. One chappie went to an FIM rally in Hungary on a 1926 HRD, a bike with the same power as a modern 100, so there's no excuse for staying at home. Any fool can tour the Highlands on a RS100, but you have to know what you're doing on a CB100.
If you're going abroad things are more complicated. You need an international licence for Italy, otherwise a full licence is fine. You need an insurance green card, available from brokers. The famous AA 5-star cover can be handy. A friend was thrashing down a Belgian road on a DT175 when his engine exploded - to get his bike back home cost only £5, thanks to the AA.
Breaking down in Britain is a less frightening prospect. It's amazing how many friendly people there are willing to lend a hand, as long as you're willing to listen to their tales of 200mph on a Bantam.
There are a few sensible points to bear in mind. Take the trivial but essential spares. After walking ten miles one night after my main fuse blew, I would recommend a spare fuse and a torch. I wouldn't bother with cables and so on unless you ride an Italian bike, but bulbs are handy. If you get soaked through it's a good idea to stop somewhere other than your tent for the night. Bed and Breakfast in places like Scotland starts at seven quid a day, and on a stormy night it's worth it.
Just because you haven't much money, doesn't mean you can't go out and explore the world on your bargain priced bike!
