Readers' Letters [Issue 3]

Whatever Happened To Capitalism? [Issue 3]

Once upon a time the nature of capitalism meant that the large companies that grew rich under its name actually produced products that were cheaper to buy than those manufactured by the one-man and small enterprises that tried to compete with them.

These days, it's all too apparent that the Jap companies producing motorcycles are doing so in such an expensive manner that even mundane middleweights are costing nearly two grand. For sure, the decline of the pound to a record low against the Japanese yen goes some way to explaining these extraordinarily high prices, which, of course, go some way to inflating the prices of recent used Jap bikes. But given that you can go along to someone like MRD Metisse and pick up a Rickman rolling chassis, suitable for any number of engines for around a grand, the actual cost of something like Honda's XBR500 is quite ridiculous.

Why on earth would anyone want to buy a new bike that's immediately going to lose most of its value when they can build a superior quality special? Natch, someone, somewhere has to turn out a strong, reliable and durable engine to give such a chassis its motive power. Although it's even possible to buy a British engine from the remnants of the once great engineering empire, the cost would probably run to something like two grand to put together an engine that wouldn't fly apart at the first hint of a wild right wrist. While many people would be willing to pay three grand for an all British bike - even if they have to dirty their fingers throwing it together - most people will have to be satisfied with robbing an engine from some Jap bike. Perhaps the only real problem in such an exercise is the lack of any suitable engines from modern bikes. I've just seen a new Yamaha XS650 in custom form, a bike I had thought long since dead, but with an engine that - except for carbs and exhausts - looks remarkably unchanged from its sixteen year old predecessor.

Anyone who read last issue's review of the XS650 will be dismayed to learn that the custom looks like the frame has had no changes, one of the useless disc brakes has been dumped and the riding position achieved by using high bars will make any problems suffered by the stock XS (and there's a whole catalogue full) that much more dangerous. The only good thing about this device is that it only costs £100 more than the XBR.

That such an old design has had so little proper deveIopment is just another sign of the little interest the Japs have in developing proper motorcycles. That this is remarkable given the implications of the deepening recession in Great Britain only goes to show that dominance in any particular market leads to complacency and a lack of direction.

Of course, the actual design of a modern motorcycle is so complex and so muddled by enviromental laws and governmental restrictions that it's now almost impossible for someone or some company outside the established industries to get into the motorcycle manufacturing ball game.The time when an enthusiastic motorcyclist could knock up a design in his backyard has long since passed.

Unfortunately, the design of some modern motorcycles lack the evolutionary development that so assisted some British bikes to make running costs so low. I'm not talking about basic engine design which was often quite appalling - but about the small things that took many years to sort out by people who combined enthusiasm for motorcycles with their jobs in the old British industry. The arcane secrets that made it possible for chains, tyres, brakes pads and other consumables to last for as long as possible appear to have been lost in the collapse of the industry. In their hurry to launch the next new model the Japs couldn't give a damn about such minor matters. Cynics will point out that at least most Jap bikes last long enough to wear out the components.

Eventually, it'll be mere mortals like ourselves who suffer from the current spate of modern designs when they find their way onto the used market, and the laughter that greets the launch of certain models will turn to dismay when the huge running costs are noted.

This gets far away from capitalism and the poor performance of the Jap factories in producing useful motorcycles, but the end products reflect the state of health of the so-called capitalists producing them.

Perhaps I should explain that by capitalism I mean a company or person who uses wealth to create a product - a creative capitalist, if you like - rather than the profiteers who make money out of slum property, by moving paper around or even selling motorcycles. It always amazes me that while the companies that produce cars or motorcycles are losing money, the dealers are still in profit - something very wrong here, surely?

The small companies still involved in the British motorcycle industry would do well to consider cutting out the dealers and distributors by selling direct to the public.
This assumes that the kind of bikes they are producing are the kind of devices that enthusiasts would be willing to travel a few hundred miles to purchase. And that they stay together properly...

Bill Fowler

Moped Revival: 60 at 16

BETWEEN 1972 AND 1976 THE UK WAS FULL OF SPORTS MOPEDS THAT WERE NOT RESTRICTED TO 30MPH. MANY OF THESE MOPEDS CAN BE PICKED UP CHEAP, AND ARE OFTEN THE ONLY WAY THOSE ON THE DOLE CAN GET SOME FAST KICKS ON THE STREET.

In 1972 the government consigned wild young sixteen year olds to mopeds. Doubtless full of visions of hoodlums riding Raleigh Runabouts and NSU Quicklys they must have been shocked to find a country full of slick 50cc motorbikes with a set of pedals thrown on to comply with the letter of the law. It took four years for the government to react, limiting mopeds to a ridiculous 30mph. Most of the Continental manufacturers retreated to their home markets leaving the big four to produce costly but high style peds that no longer needed those silly pedals. Between 1972 and 1976 all manner of weird and wonderful devices were thrown onto the market, some of them could make it to sixty in standard form, many could be tuned and screamed along at their redline until the engine exploded. Some of them were almost beautiful, many were just plain silly, but Fantic's chopper takes all the medals for pure outrageousness.

Until '72 the fastest moped available was the three speed, dual seat version of the NSU Quickly. This device was one step up from a Raleigh Runabout, but when used hard became both dangerous and unreliable. The two stroke engine made enough power to push the moped up to 45mph flat out but continuous high speed abuse of the engine led to piston seizure, which meant interesting problems for anyone who wanted to rebore the cylinder because it had a chrome finish. The frequent strip downs also meant that the cylinder studs secured in the aluminium crankcases stripped their threads, making it impossible to obtain a good seal between head and cylinder. The other problem was the three-speed twist grip gearchange which wore to make selection of all three gears difficult. The NSU had entirely inadequate brakes and steering geometry that sent the bike shooting off to the other side of the road if one was one imprudent enough to actually try accelerating around corners. Not recommended unless really desperate, expect to pay between £25 and £50 for one of these early sixties machines.

The Japs were actually beaten to the sports moped market by Puch. Their bright yellow and Chrome VS50 was slightly slower than the NSU at 43mph, but accelerated a little faster. Although the VS retained the three speed twist grip gearchange mechanism, it was a lot more precise than the NSU. Handling and braking were also a great improvement, although the drum front brake could fade after repeated high speed stops. The Puch two stroke engine was basically reliable but needs.a rebuild every 15000 miles. Spares may be a problem. There was also a John Player Replica that looked very pretty but didn't go any faster. The VS50 engine doesn't like the attentions of files, increased port size or compression ratio leading to rapid engine failure. Stock bikes are quite pleasant to ride, and cheap to run with fuel at around 120mpg. Prices go from £50 to £150 for bikes built between '72 and '76.

It didn't take Yamaha all that long to take the moped market by storm in '72 when they introduced their FS1E, which was the first moped to look more or less like a motorcycle although, like the Puch and NSU, it did retain a pressed steel frame more at home on commuter bikes. The Yam did have a proper gearbox lever operated by foot instead of hand and the utterly conventional two stroke engine knocked out a reasonable 5hp, enough to propel 155lbs of bike to 50mph. The drum front brake could make life interesting at such speeds, while the under-damped rear shocks and flimsy front forks could be caught out by bumpy roads and rapid changes of direction, but the low mass and fairly rigid frame stopped the bike from behaving in too terminal a manner. Compared with the usual moped chassis the FS1E was way ahead. The engine was good for up to 20000 miles, although really abused motors could be wrecked in half that distance. When thrashed the Yam was likely to ruin most of the bearings connecting piston to crankshaft, and could also write off the gearbox quite easily. The engine is simple to strip down and spares are cheap and in plentiful supply, either from breakers or dealers concentrating on old Jap bikes. Almost all FS1E engines will be tuned by now, and the Yam engine doesn't last too well when subjected to 60mph cruising. A bit of metal off the head and some port filing don't cause too many problems and get top speed up to 55mph, but anything more reduces engine life and wrecks the good economy (110mpg) of the stock bike. The FS1E became the fad of the next few years, even the marketing might and four stroke technology of Honda couldn't shove them out of the marketplace . There are loads of FS1Es for sale, a lot of them discarded by owners who blew the engine and moved on to something bigger. Prices go from £25 for a non runner to £250 for a low mileage or restored example. The FS1E represents the best buy in used derestricted mopeds. With a little mechanical effort it's possible to buy, restore, ride for a year and then sell at a useful profit. 

'72 was also the year when Garelli shipped in their hot moped. The Record was both faster than the Yam and handled. better (thanks to a proper tubular frame, stiff suspension and good geometry). It was also less civilised with a peaky motor, and the need to mix oil and petrol. The two stroke engine developed 6.5hp, shifting 170lbs to 55mph, although fuel was down to a mere 90mpg. The Garelli had a slick six speed box and a light clutch that made all the gearchanges needed to keep the motor on the boil just about tolerable. Easy to flick through town and stable when cruised flat out, the only problems stem from the short engine life and rarity of spare parts. Some of the other Italian mopeds look better, but the Garelli represents the best compromise from the Italians. Very rare these days, expect to pay between £25 and £150 depending on condition.

For 1973, Fantic shocked the world with the fastest standard moped - in chopper format. Although it looked very silly, 7hp, six gears and a few prayers were enough to get the speedo past the 60mph mark. The motor was as peaky as the Himalayas, although the chassis and suspension was typical Italian stuff, keeping everything under control, even if the laid back geometry meant the bike should have got nasty at high speeds. Fortunately, the same motor was installed in a conventional chassis, that was poorly styled by Italian standards, with a lurid bright orange paint job - the T1 could burn off any other 50cc bike on the road. I know one odd character who has actually kept one since he bought it in 1974, and it's still running with over 30 grand on the clock. The engines are usually in trouble by ten grand, with bore wear and small ends the major problems, although those who really count the cost will be suitably appalled by fuel consumption of only 70mpg. Cost goes from £25 to £200. If you have to own the fastest, this is the one to go for.

Gilera introduced their mopeds in trail and road forms in '73. The road version was called the RS, and must make it as the most beautiful of all these mopeds, with a sculptured tank and tubular frame making it look more like a proper motorcycle than any of its rivals. The Gilera had a 6hp two stroke motor that actually developed a little power at low revs, although it still needed to be screwed to the redline to obtain its 55mph top speed. Fuel was 95mpg and reliability almost as good as the FS1E. The RS is a great bike to ride, but spare parts are rare. Pay from £50 to £250 depending on how worn out the bike has become. 

Honda followed Yamaha onto the moped scene in '73 with the SS50. This device was related to their four stroke 50cc motorcycle that first made an appearance in the mid sixties as a commuter. Mildly tuned at 4hp, the 1 Honda lacked both the style and the performance of the Yamaha. Although the SS could only reach 40mph,fuel economy wasn't much better at 120mpg. The single overhead cam engine was quite reliable, and could even make it to 30 grand without too much trouble. Exhaust valves could be burnt out, camshafts wrecked and camchains snapped if regular maintenance and oil changes were neglected. Handling was no better nor worse than the Yamaha and the brakes were better, aided by the lower speeds possible. The original sixties version could hit 50mph, modifying the exhaust and junking the air filter helped regain some of this lost speed, and didn't harm the engine. Changes to porting and camshafts helped the engine up to 55mph, any further mods doing nasty things to fuel economy and engine longevity. Honda are famous for building engines that withstand massive amounts of abuse and neglect, this is the only reason for buying a SS50. Prices go from £20 to £200.

A whole bunch of names crept ashore between '74 and '75, trying various themes in an attempt to catch the attention of a fickle buying public. The Gitane Veloce was a slick cafe racer weighing just 135lbs, its two stroke motor pushing it to 50mph, while returning 110mpg. The Veloce even had a half fairing and monoshock rear suspension . The tendency of the motor to self destruct after a few thousand miles didn't endear it to the public and its rarity will make spares a great headache. If you can find one, between £20 and £80. Malaguti also tried the cafe racer format, but didn't get very far because of awful styling and a 6.5hp motor that was as peaky as the Fantic and unreliable as the NSU.Suspension was HARD, brakes minimal and frame a trifle flimsy. Try £25-50 if you're really desperate for wheels. Even rarer was the Testi, with 6hp, 50mph and 110mpg it was the usual flash and fast device. Try £25 to £100. The Batavus 4S, Casal ST50 and KTM GP50 were all rather more sensible, but hardly much faster than the FS1E, so best ignored unless someone insists you take it away. Also worth a mention are the AJW Greyhound - 6hp , 55mph and 125mpg, and the Derbi GT4 - 4.5 hp, 45mph and 120mpg, both looked very flash, had twitchy handling due to stiff suspension and are so rare you could spend your life wandering around breakers yards. Avoid unless very cheap.

Last on the scene, in 1975, the Suzuki A50 looked so dull it would have gained instant obscurity status if the 4.5hp engine hadn't been tunable to increase top speed from 45mph to 60mph, without harming reliability. The stock bike only returned 95mpg, and tuning would soon ruin even that figure, the really hot engines returning only 55 mpg. The A50 needs some cosmetic treatment but can be a very good buy. Between £50 and £250.

It's fairly obvious that only the brave or desperate should mess with the Italian mopeds. The Gilera for class, the Fantic for speed and the Garelli as a kind of compromise between the two. Some of the other European imports have performance superior to the Japs , but reliability and spares make these dubious buys. The Yam is by far the most popular of the mopeds, but can get temperamental and unreliable when heavily tuned. The Suzuki is hard on the eyes, but more reliable than the Yam. At least, with any of these mopeds, being burnt off by pushbikes will be a thing of the past.

Norton 850 Commando

This Norton is neither practical, economical, durable nor reliable. It is, however, loads of fun. Even the editor has been glimpsed grinning after a brief ride around the industrial Welsh wastelands. Subsequent attempts to charge his dental bills against my fee for writing this have been firmly resisted. The-poor state of the editorial teeth are blamed rather than excessive vibes from the world's largest production vertical twin.

The stock Norton 850 engine has always been a relatively mild device, with a mere 55hp. Norton achieved notoriety in the early seventies by marketing the wildly tuned 750 Combat engine. Needing a new set of main bearings every 500 miles didn't win too many friends. But did it shift. The raw and nasty power of a big vertical twin on cam is somehow much more satisfying that the slick, smooth acceleration of even the latest multi cylinder highway hoodlum. The plan was to combine the performance of early bikes with the improved strength of the later 850.

The result is a bike that accelerates as fast as anything else on the road. Engine life is extended to 5000 miles. Possession of a spare engine means that the bike is only off the road for an afternoon. Engines can then be rebuilt at my leisure, usually when the rain, snow or freezing temperatures make riding the Norton impractical.

Both engines are in a similar state of tune. The maximum amount of power is extracted from the design by the usual methods of increased compression, wild cams, large valves and free flow exhausts and carbs. Compression ratio is around 10:1. Cams are modified Combat units that have been re-welded and machined to an even lumpier spec. Carbs are 34mm Amals without filters. The exhaust was rescued from the race track, its short two into one form sprayed matt black. The rockers, pushrods and pistons are lightened and polished. Crankshaft and conrods are stock Mark 3. Standard triplex primary chain and multi-plate diaphragm clutch are retained. The 4-speed box is standard and hasn't been touched in 30000 miles.

To achieve decent power, and retain a semblance of reliability, meticulous care and attention in engine assembly has to be observed. There is no room for that subtle kind of engineering where mole-grips and large hammers are the main tools. Because of the pre-unit design, the engine is extremely easy to work on and can be shifted around without causing hernias.

Using a ridiculously long stroke (89mm) means the con-rods are always subjected to huge forces at high revs. Standard rods last about ten thousand miles. They are carefully polished between rebuilds. Many special rods are available, but they are far too expensive for mere mortals. New main bearings are fitted every 5000 miles, and the crankshaft has to be completely rebuilt every 10000 miles. While the cams last for ten grand, the rockers, tappets and pushrods all need major attention at each rebuild. Rebores are needed every 15000 miles and new rings every 10000 miles . Exhaust valves are reground at 5000 miles, while inlet valves last twice the distance. The heavy duty valve springs are replaced every 10000 miles. Primary drive and clutch plates all go for all of fifteen grand before needing replacement , A lot of hassle, maybe, but rather more fun than wasting evenings watching TV.

All this effort produces around 65hp at 7000rpm. And these are real horses that sweat oil and scar metal before making it to the back wheel. Enough power for an indicated 135mph, and the kind of acceleration that will have Porsche owners weeping into the hands of their dealers. Up to the ton the bike has blown off the latest high tech bikes, and seen off some very highly tuned large Jap fours. They just can't match the sheer grunt of the Norton. Beyond 100mph life is a little more sedate, but then without a fairing such excessive speeds can't be maintained for any length of time.

The stock chassis is famous for suffering poor stability in corners when the throttle is backed off. The engine, gearbox and swinging arm are rubber mounted in a tubular frame, gaining most of its strength from a large diameter tube between steering head and saddle tubes.The amount of free play between swinging arm and frame is determined by shimming up the Isolastic mounts. Improved stability can be attained by reducing the clearances to zero. This increases vibration at certain points in the rev range. The shims need re-adjusting around every 5000 miles to maintain decent handling. This is a tedious and time consuming process needing plenty of patience and concentration. Unfortunately, neglect leaves the Commando uncontrollable on bumpy country roads .

Weight of the already light Norton (430lbs) has been further reduced by fitting GRP petrol tank, seat and mudguards, as well as a two into one exhaust system. With a gallon of petrol, the bike weighs in at just under 400lbs. This helps the ease of handling in town and country, without any instability occurring during motorway riding. It's still no comparison to the old Featherbed frame Nortons, which can still see the Commando off down country lanes, where the improved power can't compensate for the inferior chassis. The Commando just doesn't have the lightness of touch and steering precision present in the older bikes. The Commando is as stable as the slower Bonneville, but doesn' t quite match its agility. Older Jap fours are burnt off with relative ease but the newer, sophisticated mobjust show the brutal effects of the progress of motorcycle design. If zero clearance is maintained, the Norton avoids anything as frightening as a speed wobble.

At tickover the engine shakes about in the frame in an alarming manner. Tremors affect tank, seat and handlebars. This becomes worse up to 30mph, when the bike becomes relatively smooth. Above 70mph, in fourth, the vibes start to intrude. Increasing speed increases the vibes, until by the ton everything has become hopelessly blurred and rather frightening. Once past the ton, the Norton smooths out somewhat. It's still harsher than the secondary vibration from a large four, but it's a definite improvement over other British twins at similar speeds. Riding flat out with the rev counter gyrating between seven and eight grand brings out all the inherent nastiness of large vertical twins. This can be absorbed for a few seconds, but anything above 120mph is a quick route to a terminal mechanical accident.

Because the Norton represents a considerable investment in time and money, such high speed jinks are restricted to the occasional moments of madness. The Norton is usually used in anger when rushing around central London, or as our editor would have it, Shit City. The combination of low mass, massive torque and narrow build makes it an ideal device for putting LC owners in their proper place. The combination of a single disc brake at each end is well suited to avoiding taxi drivers and pedestrians. Although, the standard SLS rear drum probably represents the ultimate in rear brakes. Still, the discs combine power and sensitivity with the ability to stop the bike in the wet. Wimps may not like the amount of pressure required to operate the front brake, but Nortons have always been bikes for real men.

The exhaust system is devoid of any baffles. It is loud enough to penetrate even the most luxuriously appointed car interior. Acquaintances inform me that their car radios are rendered inoperative, and that dogs go beserk when the bike is anywhere within half a mile of their presence. The 'silencer' length is apparently half the length of the stock system, which keeps the harmonics of the exhaust somewhere in line with the combustion pulses making their way through the engine. The system works well with the large carbs and wild cams. At low speeds in top gear the engine is a muted growl, which grows into a soul inspiring wail once on cam. This is one of the few advantages of having pistons that move in unison. The exhaust system will be replaced by a socially acceptable unit just as soon as car drivers begin to use the road in a socially acceptable manner.

In comparison, the stock horn is lost in the heady mixture of exhaust and engine noise. Experiments with quartz halogen headlamps were quickly forgotten when vibration kept blowing the bulb. Standard lights are barely adequate, but are resistant to the vibes. The rear bulb blows every 1200 miles, despite the use of an old inner tube to effect some additional rubber mounting. Stock Lucas alternator feeds a radically altered electrical system. Electronic ignition replaces contact breakers famous for an advance and retard unit that malfunctions, altering ignition timing and holing pistons. The 10 amp/hr battery is thrown away because it doesn't last for more than six months. Energy Transfer Ignition (a big capacitor in place of the battery) takes its place. The unreliable Lucas rectifier and Zener diode are also thrown on the scrap heap, replaced by stronger items out of a car accessory shop. All of these modified electrics are combined on a rubber mounted aluminium plate, with one electrical connector for ease of replacement. The system needs a new capacitor every 12000 miles. A modified circuit now allows for a spare capacitor to be utilised at the flick of a switch. These components were all acquired for less than ten quid.

The most exciting moment of ownership comes when attempting to start the beast. This can only be done on the centrestand, because all the rider's weight and force are required on the kickstart . With the engine just past compression and the carbs tickled, no choke and no throttle, a brave kick is needed. With wild cams and timing, the engine can spit back through the carbs. or kick back through the kickstart. With a little practice, it usually comes to life on the second kick from cold. The engine stutters into life, needing a quick handful of throttle to stop it from dying. It takes at least a minute until the motor settles down to a regular tickover. Once warm, the engine starts first kick, although it does have a greater tendency to kick back. I always aim to let my foot slide off the kickstart just before the end of its travel to avoid breaking my ankle. If you've never owned a big twin before, this Norton would probably give you a lot of trouble.

I favour either Roadrunners or TT100s, as the frame is stiff enough to use these tyres to their best advantage . Tyre wear would give the editor a coronary. Either make of tyre is down to 2mm at the rear by only 3500 miles and the front lasts for little more than five grand. Both wheels are fairly easy to remove for tyre replacement. The chain fares little better, needing replacement somewhere between three and four thousand miles. Running on a worn chain adversely affects the normally smooth and precise gear action. Using worn tyres sets up a mild weave above 75mph. This turns into a speed wobble if the front tyre is worn right down and the road has a bumpy surface. Both front and rear brake pads are replaced every five thousand miles, but they only cost five notes a set.

Fuel consumption varies between the awful and the really awful. One high speed run, in the company of some speed addled maniacs on Rickman-framed Kawasakis increased consumption to 25mpg. But it was rather good fun. Shit City commuting returns between 30 and 35mpg. The best consumption, when running in some new pistons, was 40mpg. And, yes, I know your Kawasaki GPz900 will average that while cruising at the ton. We're talking the joys of British motorcycle ownership here , sonny.

If I was ever to count the true cost of running this Norton, I'd probably end up selling the thing in pure frustration. It needs too much time and attention in comparison with most other bikes on the road. Regular servicing every 500 miles, and an engine rebuild every 5000 miles, are only for the dedicated. But I've tried most other bikes on the road, none of them can compare with the way the rorty old Norton delivers the goods. The design of the engine is ancient, the chassis is dubious , the suspension ten years out of date, and the brakes hardly up to modern spec. And yet, out of the road where it really matters, the Norton is very much alive and kicking, willing to take on even the most modern bikes. Anyone want a race?

Johnny Malone

Moto Guzzi V50

The V50 has the kind of sure footed and agile feel that inspires a streak of madness when hordes of tin boxes try to block off what are laughingly referred to as main roads. Where certain large multis feel happier going through rather than around cars, the Moto Guzzi can be flicked with impunity through the smallest of gaps, and when some crazed lunatic suddenly swings right after indicating left, the linked brakes are more than powerful enough to save the day. The Guzzi has the feel of a much smaller machine. Unfortunately this feel is extended to the engine, which even in its Mk3 form when Guzzi claim 50hp, doesn't exactly lead to a manic grin when the right wrist is employed. The Guzzi can make it all the way to 110mph, but up hills or against a strong wind it is reluctant to do much better than 85mph. Throw in fuel consumption that rarely betters 50mpg, and one begins to wonder just how such a light and mild machine can have been designed so inefficiently.
 
The V50 came out a year after the Honda CX500, and uses a far purer and simpler design of V-twin engine. With proper 90 degrees between the cylinders, primary vibration is no problem, while the torque reaction caused by out of line cylinders never becomes more than the most mild intrusion upon the tranquillity of V50 ownership. The engine employs a two valve head with a flat, Freedman combustion shape. This is nothing new in the car world, and was used to good effect on the Morini 350. However, Moto Guzzi don't seem to have got either the valve size or timing near to the optimum, because above five grand the engine appears to be unhappy and unable to find an engine speed where it can settle down and rumble along efficiently. This is difficult to understand, as their bigger V-twins, equally burdened with 1950s-style pushrod operation, are rather more powerful and no less economical. That said, the Guzzi does benefit from its mild state of tune by being able to withstand quite a lot of neglect, and yet keep on running. The engine of the test bike had done just over 35000 miles and was still running well, although the valve gear would sound very agricultural after a long hard run. The clutch was a little jerky, and the lack of power at very low revs made the bike quite easy to stall at low speeds. The bike has had several owners, and with three years neglect and the horrors of eleven month English winters needs some polish on the casings and a new paint job.

It also desperately needs new switches. They may just survive the warmth of Rome, but the dull, dismal climate that is inflicted on Great Britain makes a can of WD40 a necessary adjunct to V50 ownership. Even the miracle properties of WD40 failed to stop the Guzzi from refusing to start on a couple of occasions after it had been subjected to the usual tropical downpour (in June, for Heaven's Sake!). Short of taking a flamethrower to the thing, only leaving it to dry out at its own pace is any help. This, fortunately, is one of the few areas where the bike takes on the normal temperamental nature of its Italian parentage. It normally started without any problems with a little help from the choke, which could be dispensed with very quickly. 

Although the bike was great fun in traffic, it does suffer from some minor handling quirks at high speeds over bumpy going when the combination of poor rear shocks and fairly direct shaft drive can make the back end twitch around. This never becomes terminal, while the rest of the handling is commendably neutral. Springs are taut rather than ultra stiff, damping at the front is adequate - riding the V50 through a huge pothole at 70mph shakes the front end up, but it quickly recovers and there's never any hint of a speed wobble even on worn tyres. Feedback from the road isn't quite as good as it should be, there are times when the back tyre can step out without any warning, but it does manage to recover very quickly. The suspension does absorb a large percentage of the bumps - for riders with a little blood in their veins its quite a good compromise between comfort and sporting riding, although a decent set of replacement shocks transform the handling. It's way ahead of Honda's CX500, but a little bit in the shade of the smaller, sophisticated Jap multis. British bike fans will be interested to learn that a Norton 88SS, twenty years its junior, left the Guzzi for dead on fast two lane A roads. There is, it seems, still plenty of life left in the old Featherbed chassis. This is especially true in wet weather when the Guzzi seemed more than a little lost. Nothing too dangerous or violent, just a lack of feeling entirely secure. In fact, I preferred riding an eminently stable, if ponderous, Suzuki GS550 on wet roads because its actions were always predictable. The way the shaft could play up with less than meticulous gear changes leading to a miscreant back wheel didn't inspire confidence. But, it must be added, I never actually fell off, so it must be pretty good.

Once I became used to ignoring the handlebar lever, the linked brakes worked, whatever the weather conditions, without causing any problems. I still prefer to control each brake individually and I have an immense dislike of companies that insist on using disc brakes on the rear wheel. As Guzzi's system only works on discs, I suppose they can be forgiven. As mentioned earlier, the brakes could pin the light mass of the Guzzi down very rapidly, and are a great help in the cut and thrust of heavy town traffic. The only real complaint was rapid pad wear - 6000 miles for either end doesn't seem at all reasonable. Pattern pads start at £7.50 a set.

Riding the Guzzi over my usual 160 miles run from Cardiff to Shit City brings out some interesting comparisons with cheaper and more economical Jap 550 fours which are regularly subjected to my shattered deadlines and early morning hallucinations. The Guzzi's disinclination to start one early, misty morning almost caused a cardiac arrest, but connecting the Guzzi to a car battery for five minutes managed to overcome that particular problem. Riding through the clouds of spray from overloaded lorries on the M4 showed up the Guzzi's lack of top end urge, only able to race away from the artics when hills slowed them down. Where most middleweights were happy to Cruise at over 90mph, the poor old Guzzi could olny gasp along at 85 mph. Indeed , ridden on full throttle into a strong wind, the Guzzi returned as little as 35mpg. On the flat, relatively smooth motorway surfaces, the Guzzi was stable and didn't wander off all over the road. Crossing the Severn Bridge in the teeth of a minor gale revealed that the bike was hardly affected by side winds, and was quite happy to potter along amidst slow moving cars and lorries.

I'd just knocked off some speed and hustled my way back into the slow lane, to leave the three artics plenty of space as they tried to surround an Allegro driver who had been stuck in the fast lane doing a steady 70mph, when I noticed the police officer on the BMW. He came alongside and actually grinned. As the speedo registered 70 mph, I shrugged my shoulders. He held my eye for a few seconds and then rumbled off after the artics. Ever watched the way the back wheel of a BMW skips about at speed? Very funny. Distraught at having to travel so slowly, I exited the motorway for some country road fun and games. Scattered lines of early morning commuters were dealt with by screaming along in third gear, the only way to keep the bike on the boil. The valve gear and exhaust (lacking some internals and exhibiting a few holes in the silencer) were rather noisy and there was even a little vibration when the rev counter flicked into the red sector. But even at high speeds the front end remained precise, the bike could be flicked around obstacles with the minimum of input and effort, and the Guzzi could take on road speeds and surfaces that would have a CX500 twitching and weaving. 

A brief ride on a Mk. 1 version revealed the lack of top end power to be all the more disturbing, although the engine did exhibit a little more of the character expected from a V-twin layout. The Mk. 3 is, in many ways, too civilised and doesn't seem to have the same relaxed and calming influence exhibited by most V-twins. Trying an almost new bike, didn't effect any new revelations in the power department, although the handling and suspension were tauter and felt safer.

Tyre wear varies between eight and twelve grand depending on the type of tyre used. Ten grand from a rear Roadrunner is typical. The carbs do go out of balance about every 500 miles, but it's not too much hassle to get the tickover back to a smooth rumble. The valves need adjusting every two grand. Otherwise, the Guzzi gives a pretty easy life to the lazy owner. Nothing falls off the engine, and even the light bulbs don't blow very often. New switches and rewiring are needed after a couple of years wear. The chromework isn't too good, with reports of some exhausts falling apart after as little as a year, while rust on the forks will ruin seals after two years. Paintwork is,er, Italian, hard used bikes need a respray after two years, especially on the frame. Engine life goes for between forty and sixty grand, with valvegear problems the major hassle, although some clutches have given up hope at as little as twenty grand. The bottom end is quite tough, the gearbox gets clunky with age and the shaft drive coarser. There are some very nice low mileage, one owner jobs on the market which are worth tracking down.

As middleweights go the Guzzi really lacks the power to make the grade. It's light weight, agile handling and tough motor are worth noting for those who want a viable alternative to the Jap orthodoxy. With the exception of fuel, the Guzzi can be run very cheaply and is plenty of fun to ride.

Bill Fowler

Yamaha XS650

I was just getting ready to whizz around the outside of a Porsche 924, which was blocking my path through the 90mph curves just on the outside of Gloucester, when it happened . Trying to make the speedo of a 60000 mile, ten year old XS650 flick past the ton mark probably wasn't a very good idea, anyway, but the only real complaint from the engine was excessive vibration through the petrol tank.

The only thing that ever broke off the Yam was a non standard horn when its bracket fractured. Triumph owners please note. My intention of putting some Flash Harry owner of the world's blandest sports car in his place was quickly forgotten when a tremor disturbed the equilibrium of what Yamaha laughingly and optimistically call a rolling chassis. This tremor rapidly started to turn into a speed wobble, the whole bike oscillating with increasing amplitude across both lanes of the highway. Owners of Vincent V twins would doubtless advise accelerating out of trouble, but the Yam engine didn't have much power in reserve and I've never been fully convinced of the complete sanity of people who pay so much money for such old bikes. The wild gyrations of the Yam were about to reach a climax in which I would receive a strong dose of gravel rash, for all my past sins, when I remembered that by reducing the grip on the handlebars, it might just damp down the speed wobble. The theory goes that the rider tends to push back against the handlebars actually leading to an increase in the oscillation, whereas letting go of the handlebars will let it die out naturally. Much to my surprise this actually worked in reality. The bike came back to the right side of the road and I was able to continue at a much reduced speed. This close call with death has to be blamed upon the Yam's inadequate chassis. The bike was oscillating about the swinging arm bearings, which are supported by some weakly welded brackets on the rear frame tubes, which don't have much by way of inherent strength themselves. Although the rear tyre was only just legal and there was a bag strapped onto the pillion seat, that particular stretch of the A48 was as smooth as a used motorcycle salesman's patter, and I'd taken it at higher speeds on other bikes.
 
The original XS650,the XS-2 had a really bad reputation for handling, feeling insecure even at low speeds, and it shared the same basic frame layout as the XS650. The newer bike had benefited from a bit of extra bracing, stronger forks and an extra disc brake with relocated calipers. This all helped the XS feel nice and stable at low speeds, but the combination of remoteness and extra mass meant that when it did let loose at high speeds it was even more violent and vicious than the XS-2. 

With 480lbs to cart around the Yam was about 100lbs overweight, and this took the edge off both bend swinging and acceleration. Despite all this mass, the Yam was well balanced in town with a solid feel to it. Unfortunately, the complete removal of any useful feedback from the tyres combined with poor steering geometry meant it was very easy to lose the a back tyre over the greasy roads of Shit City, leaving the bike unable to respond naturally, with the result that I actually fell off once in Willesden. Fortunately, this happened at very low speed and I was able to kick myself clear of the bike before it had a chance to break my leg. A West Indian woman started screaming as these events unfolded beneath her gaze, which was unfortunate as I wanted to avoid the attention of the police who were stationed a mere hundred yards down the road. Ignoring the West Indian woman, I attempted to pick up the Yamaha only to find its weight too much for my shaking hands. Pause, while all Triumph owners congratulate themselves on owning such lightweight bikes. Salvation came in the form of a Honda 90 rider, who actually stopped his machine, our combined strength picking up the Yam. Never again shall I laugh at owners of Honda scooterettes. A flick of the electric start button had the bike running, and I rode off to a nearby sidestreet to examine the damage. Apart from a few scratches on the already decrepit silencer the bike had survived unharmed. The indicators had been thrown away many years before, and the rest of the bike was either very strong or tucked well out of harm's way.

As well as keeping crash damage to a minimum, the hefty construction of the cycle parts help to overcome the effects of vertical twin vibration, tending to absorb the nastiness rather than self destruct. The frame is the kind of horrible mess than the British industry would have been updating in the late fifties, with too many different sized tubes welded together by a Jap robot than was high on quantity but lacking in quality. Although it wasn't all that unlike certain BSA frames in its duplex layout, the quality of material and the frame geometry meant it was doomed to give poor high speed stability, and the excessive mass meant throwing the plot through turns at speeds above 70mph needed a couple of lanes of carriageway and a course in muscle building. The Yamaha had handling abilities on par with those awful old Triumph T110s from the fifties that used to waltz all over the road at the merest hint of a rough surface and high speeds. The XS650 wasn't helped by the flimsy front forks which combined inadequate springs with insufficient damping to make life over 70mph a series of near disasters on anything other than very smooth roads. The rear shocks are no better but can be replaced by Koni or Girling items to good effect.

With such dangerous road manners good brakes are necessary. With twin front discs and a SLS rear drum, the Yam looks adequately braked on paper. In reality, the front brakes show all the inherent vices that came naturally to the early examples of disc brakes. Not only does the Yam have brakes that don't work in the wet until far too late, and brakes that have about as much feedback as a tired out Soho hooker, but the damn things don't even provide enough power to cope with the Yam's mass and speed in ideal conditions. Combine this with rapid pad wear, awkward pad replacement and frequent maintenance requirements, to start wondering if the front end off a drum braked Triumph might not fit. The rear drum brake was fine, never locked the rear wheel and was a godsend in wet weather. The only saving grace was that pattern pads (no better or worse than standard) could be picked up for a mere five quid a pair. The pads last for about five thousand miles and fall out if they are worn down to the metal. The rear brake shoes last for about 20000 miles and would have done even better if the brake hadn't been needed so often to compensate for the front end.

If so far all the Yam's been described as an ill-handling, poorly braked monster, there is some good news. The engine is a quite remarkable device that is very tough and just keeps going with the minimum of maintenance. Displacing 654cc (very bad for insurance rates, that extra 4cc), the XS650 is a detuned version of the XS-2 that first hit the UK shores in '71. With a mere 50BHP to worry the usually strong Jap layout, it's hardly surprising that the engine can go on for 75000 miles. The pistons move up and down together, in typical British fashion, supported by a four bearing crankshaft, with central chain drive to the single overhead camshaft that operates a mere two valves per cylinder through rockers with screw and locknut adjustment for valve clearance. Triumph, BSA and the rest of the British crew will also note that the Yam engine was built to sufficiently high tolerances to use gear primary drive instead of all those nasty chains that wear out so rapidly on British iron.

The clutch and gearbox are both trouble free just so long as the engine gets its 1000 mile oil change. With 75000 miles on the clock the Yam needs a rebore and maybe a reconditioned crankshaft. It's probably cheaper to get hold of a low mileage engine out of a breaker than rebuild the engine, although it is quite an easy motor to work on. Even brand new bikes had engines that rattled badly, so it pays to listen to a couple of examples to try to obtain an idea of just which noises should be present. There have been some bikes that seize up their pistons at very low mileages, so be suspicious of very low mileage examples. If the bike's made it to 20000 miles, then it's probably going to keep going for a lot longer.

Unlike the XS-2, the XS650 doesn't have much by way of a power band, although it does feel a little keener with 5 grand on the rev counter . Only the most mechanically ignorant will try to get the rev counter past 7500 rpm, when the vibes do begin to affect the handlebars and footrests as well as the petrol tank. With 60000 miles on the clock, the XS was hard pushed to maintain a 90mph cruising speed, not helped any by footrests and bars that were ill matched and stuck the rider out in the wind. Acceleration from a standstill was useful with plenty of low speed grunt helping to overcome excessive mass. Up to 70mph the chassis was able to keep the whole plot under control, and it could be quite pleasant to potter along in fifth with the growl of the engine for company. The Yam has almost the same performance capabilities as a late Bonnie, where the Triumph is limited to 70mph by the effects of excessive vibration on a weak engine.
 
In many ways the X8650 is no better than the smaller 400/450 twins from the Jap manufacturers, which have almost the same 110mph performance, are much more agile and offer superior fuel economy. The XS always seems to average 50 mpg, regardless of how it was treated. Even gentle pottering out in the country with the minimum of gear changes didn't help economy, but 90mph cruising didn't affect it either. The only way to improve on fuel consumption is by fitting electronic ignition, which lets the Yam average a more reasonable 55mpg, and even achieve 60mpg under gentle use.

Electronic ignition also overcomes another problem that sometimes afflicts the XS650. The bike refuses to start for no apparent reason. I've spent hours leaping up and down on the kickstart to try to start the beast, to no avail, only to return an hour later to find it starts first kick. The Yam usually starts first time as long as all the rider’s weight is put into the kick. Anyone familiar with British twins will find it a piece of cake and will be relieved to hear that the XS does not kick back. The electric start doesn't have enough power to start the engine from cold, either because the battery is not fully charged or because the starter has worn out Some starters have gone crazy and bent the crankshaft , but this is quite rare.

The alternator can give trouble, but the output is controlled by mechanical cutouts for voltage and current, which can be readjusted to keep an ageing electrical system working. The alternator produces insufficient output at kickstart speeds to run the bike with a dead battery. Main beam is useless, and halogen bulbs don't last long because of the vibration.

A Roadrunner rear tyre lasts between six and eight grand, the front goes for around ten grand, while chains can be sold off to football hoodlums after about twelve thousand miles. Maintenance is all straightforward stuff, and the Yam can take the usual neglect of poor or ignorant owners just so long they indulge in regular oil changes . Camshafts, and even camchains, seem to last for ever, while the gearbox goes the distance but becomes imprecise after 50000 miles with occasional missed changes upsetting the unwary. But the box does have a lot of feel, and a bit of practice compensates for mechanical wear. Combining K&N air filters with a Dunstall exhaust system liberates the couple of horses lost to the XS-2, saves some weight and sounds much more fun. There are even some big bore kits that take the XS out to as much as 850cc, although I wouldn't recommend this with the stock chassis. The best way of overcoming the poor performance of the Yam is to throw away the stock rolling chassis and use something, much stronger and lighter. The Triumph chassis would have been ideal, but the motor won't work because the Triumph uses the engine to support the swinging arm bracket. The last BSA frame might work but I've never seen seen this conversion done. In standard trim the Yam only makes it as a sedate tourer with an engine that is very reliable and durable. This is a great pity, as it wastes the potential of the motor. On the other hand, it means that a bike can be picked up for a couple of hundred quid that will give years of service.

Bill Fowler
 

Used Guide contents page [Issue 2]

Wrecking Manoevres: Suzuki 550 Katana

SIX MONTHS AND 15000 MILES OF ABUSE AND NEGLECT VERSUS THE INNER STRENGTH OF A SUZUKI 550 KATANA.

The usual long term test tends to just graze the surface because it is so far removed from the everyday reality of running a bike in 1986. A huge segment of the market can't even afford regular oil changes let alone proper maintenance, so we wanted to run a bike for a high mileage with the minimum of expense. The bike had to have enough power to make life interesting, but not so much that it consumed petrol, tyres and chains at an alarming rate. 550s have long managed a reasonable compromise between power and conspicuous consumption, although many of the latest models have been honed dangerously close to the bone in the search for maximum power and minimum mass.
 
Because of the kind of neglect we intended to inflict, the engine needed a remarkable degree of inner strength and durability, which quickly narrowed the field down to Kawasaki and Suzuki. We opted for a 550 Katana because it looked so pretty, only cost £650 for an '82 job, and had an engine with a reputation for reliability second to none.
 
Katanas are based on the Stock Suzuki GS550 with a flash set of clothes, rear sets, stiffer suspension and a longer wheelbase marking most of the significant changes. The bike we purchased was standard except for a black front mudguard and non standard clocks, indicative of some previous crash damage. First impressions were of a stable but heavy machine. Power wasn't exactly stunning but the bike was happy enough buzzing along at 90mph. The twin disc front brakes were very powerful, but insensitive enough to lock the front wheel at low speeds, not very funny when going around corners as this flicks the front wheel back to the vertical without any warning. The rear single disc brake was no better or worse than a good drum brake. The Katana is more exciting to look at than to ride, but the strength of the engine saves it from instant obscurity. Eat yer heart out Honda owners.

The non original speedo showed eleven grand and the engine looked and sounded as if that mileage might be reasonable. The bike was used for commuting around Shit City and for running back and forth to Wales over the weekend, encompassing a wide range of traffic and road conditions. Most of this riding occurred during what was laughingly referred to as the summer. For those who can bear to recall '85 this meant rain and more bloody rain, which at least meant the bike was subjected to enough nastiness to test the quality of the paintwork and engine casings.

The first problem was the silencers. These black chrome jobs still looked fine on the outside but most of the baffles had rusted away enough to turn irate heads when the bike roared past. For sure, this was mildly antisocial but nowhere near as bad as those nasty capitalists who wanted several hundred quid for a replacement set. As the engine only knocked out 54BHP it was not too dependent on perfect silencers, and at least blind car drivers had a chance to hear the bikes' approach. After 5000 miles, the bike had developed a straight through exhaust system that eventually made enough noise to cause instant headaches for anyone within a mile of it. Performance was affected when the end plate of one silencer fell out and the silencer cracked around its circumference. A new end plate was produced from a biscuit tin and secured with self tapping screws and Gun Gum. Two Jubilee clips secured another piece of tin around the silencer, producing a surprisingly strong solution to the problem of the cracked silencer. Everything was given a quick coat of heat resistant resistant matt black paint to discourage the attentions of Mr. Plod, who was so busy hitting pickets over the head that he had no time or energy to interfere with hoodlums intent on saving money.

After 3000 miles both the rear tyre and chain were worn out. The chain had several tight spots where rust stopped the links from moving, making chain adjustment very difficult. It was removed and left to soak in old engine oil after having two links removed. As the police have been cunningly trained to spot a bald tyre from a 100 yards, a new Road Runner was fitted (£30). This was down to 3mm after only five thousand miles, when the handling became twitchy at high speeds. The front Michelin had about 4mm of tread when the bike was acquired, but lasted for over 12000 miles, when the remaining tread tended to skid dangerously in the wet. The rejuvenated chain lasted for about two thousand miles, but needed adjustment every 150miles to stop it from hitting the frame on the overrun. A new chain cost twelve quid.

After 5000 miles, in a fit of paranoia, a new oil filter and 3 litres of Halfords oil were purchased. The only oil used by the engine was that lost through the rocker box gasket which had been sucked inside - Aradite was smeared over the offending joint, clearing up the oil loss except when cruising at above the ton for prolonged periods. The next oil change was 10000 miles later, rather silly given the ease with which gearbox swarf can circulate through the engine, but quite typical of the kind of abuse engines have to take these days. No other engine maintenance was planned. The four CV carbs stayed in tune, were hardly affected by the rapidly decaying silencers and still gave a reliable tick over even after 15000 miles of neglect. Valve clearances are controlled by bucket and shim, but with direct acting double overhead cams the need for regular adjustment should be minimal. Working on the dubious principle that the clearances would get bigger as the metal wore, the top end was left well alone. With electronic ignition and automatic camshaft tensioners there wasn't much else to play with, anyway.

Early one morning the bike refused to start. All systems were dead, no idiot lights and no electric start. Now, Suzuki, along with some other manufacturers, have stopped fitting kickstarts, figuring them as obsolete as starting handles on cars. This is unfortunate, because bike batteries are overpriced, unreliable and lack the durability of car batteries. While the Katana started on the most gentle caress of the button and the merest hint of choke, with a dead battery there was no way 460lbs of metal would jump into life, even given the help of some poor passer-by. Perusal of the wiring system eventually found a blown main fuse.
Those nice men at Suzuki supply a spare fuse in the fuse box, but even this didn't revive the bike. Touching the battery terminals with a screwdriver resulted in no sparks and a long walk to the local accessory store where £25 was exchanged for a battery. The new battery solved the problem, but the blown main fuse was rather confusing because, according to the wiring diagram, with the ignition turned off the battery should have been isolated and, anyway, the ignition, lights and accessories all had their own fuses. Expensive thoughts of wrecked rectifiers were quickly set aside when the bike functioned properly. Just to be on the safe side, the battery was disconnected overnight.

Fuel consumption was good, averaging 60mpg, only really suffering when riding the bike flat out at an indicated 110 mph, when it would be as bad as 45mpg. In an attempt to improve fuel consumption and help out chain life, the ridiculously small 15 tooth drive chain sprocket was thrown away, the new 17 tooth job making 90mph cruising a pleasant six grand in sixth, while still allowing the bike to take off in second gear, such was the excellent low speed torque of the engine. Indeed, the Suzuki could be trickled along at under 30mph in top, although acceleration was sluggish until 70mph was on the clock. With the new gearing the bike was averaging 65 mpg, although ton plus speeds resulted in inferior consumption at 40mpg. The new sprocket didn't help the chain very much, after five thousand miles it was worn out and required constant adjustment.
 
It wasn't helped by the various chain sprays which tended to end up all over the rear end of the bike, and I didn't fancy trying to boil the chain in grease, as this process has a fifty-fifty chance of depositing large quantities of hot grease over the kitchen stove, which doesn't tend to endear one to young ladies, already fed up with being transported through tropical storms. Another 3000 miles can be extracted from the chain, although the gearchange becomes quite nasty - not helped by a rear set linkage that develops slop after about 2000 miles, wrecking Suzuki's reputation for making the slickest and smoothest gearchanges in the business. When people started sticking fingers in their ears as the bike went past, it was time to fit some new silencers. As they had lasted about eight thousand miles since buying the bike and really needed replacing immediately, this was pretty good going. The four into two system is designed with the junction box for each silencer as part of the silencer. This is supposed to stop people fitting non standard exhausts but by sawing off the silencer just after the junction box there's about half an inch of exhaust pipe left for attachment of the new silencer. Unfortunately, to avoid sawing the frame or crankcases in half, the whole exhaust system has to be removed. This would have been simple enough if Suzuki hadn't decided to use the longest screws in the world to hold the exhaust clamps into the cylinder head. These screws were a very tight fit, and there wasn't enough room to wield either a spanner or socket wrench for more than half a turn. Naturally there was one screw that refused to move, eventually deciding to break off inside the exhaust clamp. Hitting the engine with a large hammer and swearing a lot were only temporary solutions to the rage let loose by this act of mechanical insubordination.

A hole was drilled in the remaining screw, and a thread tapped to take a smaller bolt. Much to everyone's surprise this worked out just fine. After sawing off the silencers, the remaining exhaust system was cleaned up with Gunk and then Solvol, the part hidden under the engine painted with heat resistant paint. The finished job looked quite good considering the state it had got into. A pair of universal silencers were purchased from a dealer on the verge of bankruptcy and desperate to sell something. This meant the price was hustled down from £38 to £30 for the pair. Although the new silencers are chrome the system looks very neat, is much quieter and hasn't upset the carbs. This must be the cheapest way of repairing wrecked exhaust systems.

Although removal of the battery leads every night had stopped the battery losing its charge, the Suzuki started blowing its fuse in a random manner at the most inconvenient moments. This was cured for about two thousand miles by the simple expedient of using a 30 Amp fuse in place of the standard 15 Amp job. Things got serious when I was overtaking a car towing a caravan going up a steep hill. Sounding the horn to show my distaste for such conveyances, the whole machine went dead just as I was cutting in front of the car to avoid the attentions of an overloaded lorry roaring down the hill. The bike had just enough momentum to make it into the driveway of a convent. The main fuse had blown, again, and kept on blowing until I disconnected the rectifier, which meant the problem was coming from either the alternator or the combined regulator/rectifier. A few miles later, the rectifier was reconnected and everything worked alright. A few days later the bike went dead again when the lights were switched on, and the fuses started blowing first thing in the morning. It was easier to carry a pocketful of fuses than strip down the alternator or replace the rectifier/ regulator unit.

After 10000 miles the rear disc pads were down to the metal and the front pads made funny noises. In view of the safety problems caused by worn pads I was astounded by the audacity of the local Suzuki dealer who demanded £36 for a set of three pairs of pads. The bike was used for another 2000 miles when braking performance had become so dangerous that three sets of pattern pads were purchased for the still hefty sum of £21. These pads were inferior in the wet and even less sensitive than the standard issue. For those who have never experienced drum brakes, please note pads last much longer and the only maintenance needed is the very occasional adjustment of the cable to take up pad wear and cable stretch.

After visiting several car accessory shops, suffering blank stares at the mention of things like rectifiers and regulators, a regulator and rectifier were eventually purchased for £3.50 each. It took several hours study of the rectifier and the bike's circuit diagram to realise than the input leads had to be soldered directly onto the diodes in the rectifier. This done, I had the heart of one new electrical system. Only an idiot would give Suzuki money for components that had already proved themselves inadequate, and only a fool would bother with breakers who refused to give any guarantee of their electrical components, and who, anyway, wanted an extortionate £35 for a component that might or might not work. I didn't even bother asking Suzuki how much money they would demand for a new one.

Because the rectifier had failed, the alternator had been affected - or maybe a burnt out coil in the alternator had wrecked the rectifier. Suzuki use a rather old fashioned electrical system where extra coils are switched into use when the lights are on. It was easy enough to wire the output from these coils permanently into the electrical system, replacing some of the power lost from the burnt out coils. Natch, running these coils with the damaged rectifier would burn out the coils eventually, but as the alternator was already burnt out this didn't seem to matter. It made riding from London to Cardiff all the more interesting, because the battery would have just enough power left, after 150 miles, to run the ignition, but if the engine stopped it wouldn't start again on the electric starter. Once, when various diversions extended the journey distance, the bike gave up three miles from home and had to be pushed the remaining distance - it was just as well that the summer wasn't hot.

The new rectifier and regulator stopped the fuses blowing, and the lights and horn could be used with impunity. The alternator couldn't produce enough power to keep the bike going without charging the battery, so after calmly explaining to various breakers that they couldn't have £45 for an alternator, it was decided to send the alternator off to be rewound. This would have been simplicity itself if Suzuki hadn't employed screws made out of the softest steel in the world to hold the alternator cover to the crankcases. They made life even more difficult by using huge clearances between these screws and the holes in the alternator coven The usual practice of hitting the outer edge of the screw head with a small chisel and large hammer resulted in the screws bending rather than turning. Tut, tut. All the screws except one were eventually removed. The last screw decided it would snap off leaving half the thread in the screw hole. This, you understand, is not a result of mechanical incompetence but of the penny pinching attitudes of Jap factories where all the screw is supposed to do is hold the case in place and not actually be reused. A drill bit the same size as the inner diameter of the thread, was carefully pointed in the direction of the snapped screw and an ancient B&D drill set on its lowest speed.
 
Prayers must work, because all that was left was a thin spiral of thread that unwound by hand, leaving enough thread in the casing to secure the screw. Allen bolts were used in place of the silly screws supplied as standard. The alternator was a mess of charred black insulation. The rewound job, cost thirty pounds and only took three days, including postage each way. The new system has done five thousand miles without any trouble and seems a much better bet than handing over large quantities of cash for components that are either too weak as new or too uncertain when bought second hand.

The suspension was in need of help by the end of 15000 miles (with 26 grand on the clock). The bike was still very stable at high speed, and although it didn't wallow the front end had lost some of its precision. The Suzuki had a unique combination of harsh and imprecise suspension. It did have some more feedback that Suzuki's normal attempts at chassis design, and even the engine gave the impression of being alive, of having some blood and guts, without vibrating. The bike's main problem is too much mass, and too much unsprung weight in particular. The hefty alloy wheels and disc brakes cause greater inertia forces than the poor old suspension can contain, leaving the bike ponderous through the curves, if never actually dangerous. A set of spoked alloy wheels with drum brakes off some old Italian bike, with some decent suspension from the same source would transform the beast.

After 15000 miles, two oil changes and no other regular maintenance the Katana still started first press of the button, didn't burn any oil, could reach 110 mph and average 65 mpg. It had used two chains, one battery, alternator and rectifier, wrecked two silencers and blown plenty of fuses. If the electrical problem had been sorted out quickly, the alternator could have been saved and most bikes ruin their exhausts after three years. The Katana has shown superb resistance to abuse and neglect.

Bill Fowler

Motorcycling Can Still Be Fun

The very nature of motorcycling means that for a lot of the time it's lots of fun. In town, even slow bikes make flash cars seem silly; in the country, the act of throwing a fast and heavy bike through a series of curves can only be matched by the craziness inherent in some very exotic and expensive cars, and even burning off Ford Capris down the motorway has its attractions. For sure, when the rain, sleet and snow are making road conditions, er, interesting, one begins to yearn for either an excuse to lounge in the Far East, or enough folding stuff to buy a Porsche 911. But it only takes a few hours sun and a few hundred miles of winding country roads to reaffirm ones loyalty to two wheel exotica. There's something so damn exhilarating about riding fast motorcycles that it's impossible to just give the things up.
 
The major problem, these days, is that running costs can eat up most of the meagre income citizens of the UK manage to retain after punitive taxes and huge living costs. I, for one, have never been willing to work for just the pleasure of riding a motorcycle. As an example of how far the UK has fallen, you can earn three times as much in the States and buy a motorcycle for little more than half its cost in Great Britain.
 
Something, somewhere has gone seriously wrong. Ten years ago I could run a middleweight twin on about 1/10th of my income, a sum these days that wouldn't even pay for the petrol, even at their lowered rates. And this comparison includes insurance rates that have been slashed as I left the dangerous age bands and built up some no claims discount. I may be just getting meaner with age, but I have become completely reluctant to support the various companies busy ripping off the public while lining shareholders' pockets.
 
Working on the basis that if you can't beat them you may as well join the bastards, I've been buying bikes cheap, riding them and trying to support the habit by selling them at a profit. The main ingredient in these machinations is cheek. Offering silly prices for used bikes, at the very least results in a nasty stare and often comes close to physical retribution. It takes time and a strong stomach to obtain that bargain buy. There are several things on my side in these reprehensible acts.
 
Dealers offer even lower prices, flashing a wad of used fifty pound notes often changes minds in a country where hard cash has become replaced with credit cards, and there are more motorcycles on sale than buyers. Of course, the same problems apply when I try to sell the bike at a profit.

I've found that the best way to sell a used bike is to advertise it in the window of the local motorcycle accessory store. Having wasted pounds and pounds in the local and motorcycle press, I now find I can sell the bike much quicker for just a few pence worth of advertising. Conversely, the best place to buy is from the classifieds, as these bikes can stay unsold for weeks and weeks - it often pays to work a week or so behind, as the sellers will be getting desperate by the time they get your call. The greater the distance and time taken, the greater the bargain.
 
There are problems with all this hustling. It only takes a small mechanical failure to write off the profit, or actually start costing money. This limits the kind of bike that can be purchased, and puts the really exotic stuff firmly out of bounds. Even buying a bike with worn tyres can wreck the profit equation. Timing is essential, to sell the bike just before it needs new tyres, tax etc. - makes all the difference.

This can be taken a stage further by buying written off bikes or non-runners. The problem with crashed bikes, is that too many people already have their fingers in the pie. Too many layers of dealers leads to high prices, and too many back handers. Non-runners are much more fun, and much more risky.

It's possible to buy non-runners that only have minor faults, which are operating again with a few hours work and the minimum of expense. The problem is working out just why the bike's stopped working and taking a chance that it can be fixed cheaply. Personally, I'll be sticking with the stuff I can actually hear running, I've seen too many people end up sticking malfunctioning bikes in the corner of their garage to want to get my fingers too dirty.
 
I expect that this mixing of commerce with the motorcycling hobby will offend many readers, and most of the freeloaders who write for the established motorcycle press, but this worries me far less than the prospect of having my bank account in the red due to the greed, ineptitude and rip-off attitude associated with most of the people in the motorcycle trade and associated industries. The fact of the matter is that everything could be so much better if only companies gave some kind of real service.
 
Anyway, I've managed to get the fun back into my motorcycling. I no longer see huge holes punched into my income and I no longer begrudge the expense of just riding for the kicks, a condition that has become more and more pertinent as I no longer have the burden of travelling hundreds of miles each week just to earn a crust. The poor condition of the used market makes all this kind of activity possible. If bikes were not so hard to sell then I couldn't get away with offering silly prices. It takes a little nerve to refuse the offer of silly money when people come back to buy the bike off me, but then it is just a question of holding out - and enjoying the bike.

Bill Fowler

Tiger Cub Traumas

It seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. A 1962 Tiger Cub for £45. The engine was alive and well, while the rest of the bike was tatty but original. A quick strip down and a new coat of paint would have it looking like new. There was even a spare, partially dismantled, engine for no extra cost. My test ride revealed that the quaint handling quirks of the Cub were present and correct, while the motor chugged along with all the noise and vibration of some thunderous beast, although, in reality, it was hard pressed to make more than ten horsepower. The bike had been stored for a few years, the owner evidently figuring that I was a sucker to pay so much for such an ancient wreck, so out of touch was he with the true value, however ridiculous, of British classics. Money changed hands, the spare motor placed in a box that was secured to the seat with some elastics. And I was ready to go.

I didn't get very far. Struggling with the imprecise and far from docile front end, the bike stalled. This was a more efficient method of stopping than trying to use the brakes, which were the kind of half width drum brakes found on heavyweight pushbikes. Leaping on the kick start a few times resulted in that dead kind of sound engines make when they are not going to start. Switching on the lights revealed that there wasn’t any power. Smirking with superior knowledge, I turned the ignition switch to the emergency position - wrecked batteries from excessive vibes were so common back in the bad old days that most manufacturers designed their electrical systems to run with a dead battery - self congratulation was soon forgotten when the bike still refused to start. Even rushing down a hill failed to help.
 
Cursing and swearing, I pushed the bike home. Funny how steep hills suddenly appear when motorbikes fail. Pushing a British bike a couple of miles is a good way of meeting people. Old men said they don't make them like that any more, and, while I was rolling about the floor in hysterical laughter, reminisced on how good the times were when.they had little to worry over and Britannia ruled the waves. I was stopped by a young girl who admitted to actually owning a Cub. She didn't seem surprised that I was pushing rather than riding, and she didn't offer to kick it into life. That would have been.embarrassing. An old school friend suddenly appeared on a Honda 750, made some sarcastic comments and shot off into the night. I was tempted by an offer of fifty quid, but hoped that there wasn't too bad a mechanical malaise. I staggered back to my home, dumping the Triumph in a corner of the garage, full of loathing and disgust.
 
When I finally delved into the problems of the bike, it turned out to be a combination of incorrect wiring and a dead battery. Removing the ancient black thing that was supposed to hold an electrical charge, it was thrown at next door's cat, who had a strong inclination to use motorcycles as urinals. Disconnecting the horrible mess of wiring, I rewired the Cub, using a capacitor instead of the battery. Some fool had reversed the connections to the coil, making it surprising that the bike had run at all. Ten kicks later, the Cub rumbled into life, the cats ran for their lives and I grinned in triumph. Switching on the lights stalled the engine. Joining the leads from the alternator, to keep all the coils producing power all the time, helped solve that problem. I just had to remember not to use the horn when the lights were on.

The engine made some tinny noises from the top end that could have been the small end on the way out, or could just be part of the clattery background naturally emitted by British.engines. Revving the engine made matters no worse. As a representative of the small British single, the Cub is no better and no worse than many other bikes. Cheap materials, poor design (pushrods with that kind of vibration!) and doubtful performance do not inspire too much admiration in the cold glare of ownership.
 
Intent on limiting the financial damage, I decided to sell the engine to a breaker who specialised in British bikes. To show myself as a true believer, I rode the Cub without too many incidents to the shop. It's the kind of place that's guarded by a vicious Alsatian, with ancient hacks parked outside and a few dubious characters lounging around. I figured the combination of a Triumph and a ten-year-old leather would bestow enough street credibility to escape unscathed. After all, I was the editor of an increasingly successful motorcycle magazine (this is a joke in bad taste).

Avoiding the attentions of the dog, I managed to dump the box full of Tiger Cub engine bits onto an upturned door that could optimistically be described as a desk. The man in charge was one of those characters who hide behind out of control beards and nod their heads just like their canine pets. He informed me that the main bearings were shot, but he would give me fifteen quid anyway. The bottom end of the engine had felt quite sound when I'd checked the motor over. I mentioned this. He pulled at the conrod, sure enough the engine made a knocking noise. I tried, but it didn't move or make a sound. He repeated his action and looked at me as if I was an idiot. Then I realised that he had one hand under the table; it wasn't the engine that was knocking but his ring finger. I was going to point this out, but figured I could do without a face full of knuckles. Some people can be so unreasonable. I picked up the box, intent on departing.
 
As I reached the door, he offered twenty quid. I suggested thirty, we split the difference. After I'd pocketed the money, I pointed out how little the bike and engine had cost. His face was not amused. My amusement ended pretty quickly. The Cub refused to start. The Alsatian had started to take an interest in my perspiring form. The four guys were standing by the doorway, doubtless making jokes about my inability to start such a small bike. On the tenth kick, the engine caught then failed. A huge flame spat out of the carb on my next try. The engine finally fired, huge clouds of white smoke covering the shopfront. I revved the motor to clear it out of the engine. I glanced over my shoulder to see coughing forms through the dense smog. I'd just knocked the gear lever into first when I was aware of the dog trying to take a bite out of my boot. I kicked the dog in the mouth, while letting out the clutch. I cursed the slow acceleration of the Cub as the dog tried to take a bite out of my leg. Weaving across the road in an attempt to whack the brute in the head with the back wheel I nearly collided with a transit van. The van swerved, hitting the dog. I hurried off through a series of side streets, I was sure that I could hear the roar of real Triumphs in pursuit.
 
Too intent on making sure that there wasn't anyone behind, I suddenly realised that the bike was about to rush right across a main road. Slamming on the brakes, rushing down the gearbox and throttling back didn't have the desired effect, the bike rushing straight through the gaps in heavy traffic. Recovering, I figured that at least I must have lost them. By then, I'd become used to the bike's disinclination to travel in a straight line, lack of any real brakes and suspension that didn't absorb any bumps but was so worn out with old age that it didn't do much to control the machinations of either wheel. True Grit stuff.

Deciding that I'd better get rid of the bike before it did me any serious harm or brought retribution down upon my head, I removed the engine, stripped down the chassis, performed a quick respray and had it all back together in a week and a half. I only wanted a hundred quid for it. One guy who came to see it wanted to take the cylinder head off. When I declined, he seemed most surprised. Another said the engine was about to expire and offered fifty quid. I just laughed. There were no complaints about the handling or brakes, which as they were homicidal I found very surprising. There was even a policeman, who I managed to dissuade. I didn't need that kind of hassle. Eventually, some chap turned up on a Honda 175 twin. He offered fifty quid plus the Honda. As I would have given him fifty quid and the Cub for the Honda, I wasn't going to haggle.

Bill Fowler