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.
Johnny Malone