I never really intended to buy a GSX550, originally I’d been looking for a Kawasaki GPz550 when I saw the advert. The seller had added that he might take a smaller bike in part exchange, which solved the problem of getting rid of a dodgy GPz305. I went to see the bike and at first glance it looked absolutely immaculate.
A closer inspection revealed that it was merely in very good condition. A cracked side panel, and evidence of the owner overbalancing while pushing it were the only blemishes.
The paint was all there, and even the bottom of the sump seemed to have been polished. The clock read 23017 miles, and the engine sounded as fresh and crisp as a new one. He trusted me to take it round the block, asking me to avoid any puddles. I came back wanting it even more. Then the bomb dropped. The GSX was worth the asking price of £1100, but he would only give me £300 for my GPz305. l apologised for wasting his time and left.
I then called at a nearby bike shop where I was offered a much better deal on a CX650. But a test ride only made me want the Suzuki even more. The Honda felt like an overweight blancmange compared with the GSX, so half an hour later I was reluctantly agreeing to part with £800 and my GPz.
A deposit was paid, and I was to return with the cash the following Monday. On the way home I called at several dealers, telling them that I’d been offered £500 for the Kawasaki and could they do better. After the third attempt, I walked out into the February sunshine and hitched home with £600 in my back pocket. Two nights later I took possession of A523NKX [died in 1990 according to DVLA - Ed]. The only non standard parts were the Micralloy exhaust and a leather seat.
A week later I was setting off from Winchester for a cheap skiing holiday in Aviemore. I left on the evening of the worst gales since October 87's little breeze. On the twisty bit of the A34 between Oxford and Stratford the bike felt glued to the road, and I can honestly say I’ve never felt more confident on strange roads in the dark.
The 16” front wheel gave the steering a wonderful lightness, pleasantly similar to the bicycle I race on. I owned a CBX750 in ’87, and the GSX only loses out on top end power. It’s lighter, lower, better handling, more comfortable and, surprisingly, has more bottom end power. Anyway, back to the story , and as I rode up the M6 and A74, after spending the night in Stoke on Trent, I lost count of the number of artics laying down for a rest at the side of the road. The rest of the journey was uneventful, and the I further I went the more grateful I was for the Oxford Hotgrips I’d fitted.
While I was up there I decided to take a very scenic photo of the bike in a car park with a frozen lake and snow covered mountain in the background. It took me 20 minutes afterwards to get the bike 20 yards uphill, over rutted ice and slush, back onto the road.
The only other worrying moment was when I was doing 60 through the town centre and realised I was just about to pass the police station. The trip home took in 570 miles in nine and a half hours with five petrol stops and a search for a cash point in the centre of Coventry. I kept the speed below 90mph most of the way as I like to try and make my tyres, engine and petrol last as long as possible. The ride was made more pleasant by the February afternoon feeling more like an early May evening — for the last 150 miles I even turned the Hotgrips off.
The engine had loads of torque from 3000 to 5000rpm with a big flat spot before taking off again at seven grand. The plugs showed it was running weak but bigger main jets took the edge off the top end. Raising the needles narrowed the flat spot to between 6000 and 7000rpm. Whilst waiting for a new air filter I went for a spin without one and found a further improvement. I cut the paper away from the element, and replaced it with kitchen scouring pad for higher flow. Trial and error resulted in the outer needles being raised two notches and the inners one. When the engine is well warmed the flat spot all but disappears.
The fuel tap is hidden behind a hinged lid and is impossible to turn with gloved fingers, changed on later models. I also suspect that later models are not quite so fast to comply with noise regulations. An indicated 125mph is possible in neutral conditions. My five year old silver and red paint in perfect condition beneath what looks like a half millimetre of lacquer. Compare that to the state of things like Kawasaki GT550s after just, three years. The frame is almost as good, despite the bike being ridden in all weathers.
Doesn’t it make a change to read a report that doesn’t consist of problem after problem? Well, all is not entirely a bed of roses. Soon after buying the GSX I noticed that the damping of the rear shock left a lot to be desired — it was totally knackered. Thirty quid secured a second hand replacement but engine bolts had to be removed and the motor wriggled about in the frame to locate the remote pre-Ioad adjuster.
The only other problem can be put down to previous owners stripped threads securing the cam cover causing small oil leaks. To give the previous owner credit where due, he did such an excellent job of bleeding the brakes that in 10000 miles I have not been able to pull the lever far enough back in the wet to activate the brake light.
To get seriously factual for a moment. Tyres — Roadrunners F2 rear and Metzeler front — last about 9000 and 12000 miles respectively. O-ring chains go 8000 miles and petrol vanished at between 40 and 55mpg. I’ve not had to adjust the valves, and despite only changing the oil every 5000 miles, the engine still sounds as good as when I bought it, and the oil never needs topping.
As always, it’s the little things that endear a bike to you, like the seat being just the right shape to support the throw-overs. Before I got married, I had a GPz550, and on the way home from an extremely wet holiday in Devon, the bleed nipple on the rear caliper rubbed its way though the pannier and was starting on the tin of chain lube when we arrived. The possible consequences for the girl's nighties do not bear thinking about.
Other niceties include pose value — it impresses the stuffing out of non-bikers. It’s such fun to ride that before arriving home soaked to the skin after a 25 mile ride, I’ve been known to do another lap of the estate just because I enjoy riding it so much. You do need fairly large muscles to hold onto the bars at 80mph, as the blast is just like being on the sea front during a Force 10. But I don’t care, I'm happy.
Sometimes, I think I’d like a single, but the GSX pulls just as well low down and then some more as the throttle’s whacked open. It’s only 15mph slower than a CBR600, but I got it for a third of the price. If I could get my commuting distance down to under 15 miles I might consider a 350 YPVS Yam - not as durable but even more of a rider's machine. Or I may keep my GSX550 for ever and ever... who mentioned electrics?
Keith Whitten
The old Z250 had just about had it. I wanted a bigger bike, preferably a four cylinder - I figured my available funds of £1200 should buy me something decent. I really wanted a GPz550. Trouble was they were too expensive at about £1400, until one day there was an ad in MCN for an X-reg one at £1150. I phoned up, the owner was only 30 miles away and explained that the bike was standard except for a Motad 4—1, good tyres, etc.
The mileage was described as quite high, but this was, to some extent, balanced by the fact that the motor had been rebuilt (by a dealer, over £300 - with receipts), so I decided it was worth a look. It appeared to be in good order, the wheels lined up and upon starting it sounded fine and had 37500 miles on the clock. A previous owner had painted the wheels and forks and, for some reason, replaced the rear light with a Yam XS250/400 item. As it had no tax or MOT, I offered £1100 which was accepted.
I returned the next day with the cheque, and after a test ride to make sure, I set off on the 30 mile ride home. The GPz, with its four cylinder, DOHC engine and Unitrak rear end, felt huge and smooth after the Z250 — l was well impressed. That is, until stopping for petrol (the usual egg-cup full in the tank...), I discovered the tail light had packed up, as had main beam, Bunging in two new bulbs made no difference.
As this was the first big bike l’d owned, it felt bloody powerful and the handling seemed great, if a little heavy on the steering, probably due to the considerable weight and the big 19” wheel. Two days later, with an MOT and lights working it was on the road.
After a couple of days I decided to clean it up. It took me yonks to remove the excess red paint from the wheels and, for a couple of months, 1 was running around with them half done. I dunno what it was, but eventually I had to resort to paint stripper.
After two weeks tie inevitable happened - I fell off. Late for work, charging flat out in second on a very bumpy road, I experienced my first tank slapper. The bars were quickly wrenched out of my hands before I’d had time to do anything except think, ”bloody hell, what's going on?" I was then deposited in the road. After getting to my feet, I looked at the bike. Apart from a broken indicator and ignition cover it looked unscathed, although at home I found the forks had twisted slightly.
The greatest damage was to my kneecaps, all the skin had been removed with surgical precision. After being patched up in hospital, I pushed the bike home. All this was a pain, as I was supposed to be going on holiday on the bike in three days. With no spares available in time, I cobbled on a Z250 indicator, repaired the ignition cover with insulation tape and reset the forks in the yokes, and went anyway.
At first my knees hurt a lot, but after a while in the same position the pain eased. As I regained confidence, my speed crept up and up until I was bowling along at a steady 90mph. 115 miles later I arrived at the camp. It was a sunny afternoon and I decided to have a few beers before erecting the tent, and awaiting the arrival of a mate who was supposed to meet me there. By 2pm he still hadn’t arrived, so I went for a ride on the bike.
A few minutes later I came to a squeaking halt — the front tyre was flat. Now, I was right up the creek without a paddle, as I didn't have a pump, and the tyres were tubeless: I left the bike where it was and hobbled back to the camp shop where I bought two litres of cider and then settled down on a bench to see if my mate was going to show up. By the time he did a third bottle had gone west, but at least I felt a bit more cheerful.
As he didn’t have a car jack or big log on his 400/4, the only safe way we found to remove the front wheel was to take off the tank and gently lay the bike down on the soft grass. We took the wheel to a garage where the airline was able to re-inflate the tyre — I never did find out why it deflated, but I suspected the accident had damaged the rim/tyre seal.
Apart from the tyre, the bike performed brilliantly and gave absolutely no trouble, even when I took a wrong turn on a dirt track and found myself up to the axles in mud. It took half an hour to drag it out with the 400/4 but was all good fun (we were legless).
At 39000 miles I decided to have the tappets checked ”No sweat, mate," the dealer told me. Ha, ha. The cam cover is retained by 24 allen screws, of which only 14 could be persuaded to shift. The others totally refused to budge, and I was told the only solution was to remove the engine and drill them out. As the tappets sounded okay they were left alone — and they still haven't been touched with 44000 miles on the clock.
Soon after this, the camchain started to rattle a bit, but was cured by inserting a tiny nut inside the tensioner cap (I know it’s naughty, but it works). By January 1987, both fork seals had gone but were replaced. Two days later, the fork legs were again covered in oil as the latest seals expired. The problem was solved by pumping up the forks to 13psi, and forgetting about the seals, which improved ground clearance to such an extent that a bellypan was fitted.
However, due to the air slowly leaking out of the forks, the amount of fork dive increased daily, resulting in some nice scrapes on the bellypan. One day I forgot about the pan, and almost ripped it off on a kerb. After that the bell pan was thrown away.
Soon after this a slight wobble appeared which got slowly worse. Replacement of totally shot front wheel bearings sorted it. In May the Cambridgeshire Plod presented me with a certificate of merit which stated my speed as 112mph (two up with camping gear), but I got away with it by being really nice to the copper and promising not to exceed 70mph for the rest of my life. Politeness invariably pays.
The starter solenoid packed up due to a shorting wire, necessitating application of a spanner to the terminals to start the engine. It took me nearly a week to find a breaker with one in stock, as l was told that only the correct one would do. Once replaced the bike started OK again.
In July I decide; to sort the forks once and for all — a day’s job, or so I thought. After a week spent trying to remove the seals and coming close to destroying the lower legs, I finally succeeded, and found the cause of my nightmare. The seals weren't proper GPz550 ones, at all but Z500 items which go in but are absolute hell to remove as they are deeper and seat in too tight. The seals were replaced (with genuine Kawa items, £11) and the job went fine, but I never want to go through that nightmare again.
At the end of the month the MOT expired, so in preparation the clapped chain was replaced with a cheapo one, and the next day a new rear Arrowmax was fitted. l nearly fell over when the bloke asked for £56 includin fitting — next time it'll be one of those mail order tyre discount places. It was the same day I had a brainstorm, and ordered a brand new GPz600R. I don't really know why I did it — I suppose the 550 was nearly six years old, and although still reliable I sometimes felt I shouldn't be caning a 42000 mile old bike and expecting nothing to go wrong.
Riding the 600R made me realise how far things had advanced since 1982, as the 600 went 20mph faster for the same mpg, handled about three times better and felt so good that it was pointless to even compare the bikes. The 550 was only used occasionally until a roundabout was thrown in front of the 600 when l was doing 75mph - I escaped injury, but the bike didn't.
I did the 550 up a bit, and replaced most of the front brake in order to get some kind of braking. I then decided to repaint the oil cooler, but stripped the gland nut when trying to remove it, but a mate repaired it for me. In May I went to the BMF rally without any problems, only the slipping clutch was any cause for complaint, though it was only a minor inconvenience as I’d educated myself not to take on YPVS’s and FZ’s.
The following weekend me and the missus set off from Bedford to Halifax. Despite getting soaked to the skin after 45 miles, and almost giving up, we persevered, finally arriving after six hours. The GPz ran well, and averaged 53mpg. On the way back the speedo cable snapped, and there was an occasional wobble from the front wheel. The front Roadrunner was shot. About a week later the gear lever fell off leaving the bike in fourth, but so tractable was the motor that l was able to ride home without a problem.
The 550 has been enjoying its second lease of life, and still runs like clockwork with 44000 miles up. Overall then, a great bike, with plenty of go, fairly good fuel economy and relatively easy maintenance. It has never let me down and always started impecably.
Nothing too important has ever fallen off or rusted away. Still, it'll have to go soon as I can’t afford to run two bikes... on the other hand, though, maybe I should keep it in case I smash up the 600R again.
Roland Black
