It went against the grain to buy a two stroke. Even more so one that had obviously been thrashed and neglected by the past owner, a spotty youth who kept telling me that it was worth a lot more than the £200 he wanted. Like hell, with clip-ons, large alloy tank and expansion chambers, all old and corroded or dented, it stunk to high heaven of ineptitude and back yard maintenance with the largest hammer available.
I had a ride. Came back, my head buzzing angrily from the din, coughing from the blue haze that settled over the machine, but impressed despite myself that such an old bouncer could still muster grin inducing acceleration. I offered a ton, we settled on £125, the owner petulantly repeating that it must be worth five times that amount until he was drowned out by the cackle of the exhausts (I could not bring myself to call them silencers). I was not too worried about the cafe racer appearance. | had already bought one old and dead GT500 for fifty notes that had all the necessary bits to convert the bike back to stock. Just as well, after the sixty mile ride home my back was in agony, my head felt like someone had been tapping it with a hammer and my wrists were badly swollen from the excess pressure placed upon them by the absurd riding position.
It was but a days work to tear off all the unwanted bits, replace them with the standard items and find myself the proud possessor of a relatively conventional two stroke twin. This was more like it. The stock silencers emitted what seemed like a gentle burble after the previous banshee wail and my body bathed in the relief of an upright riding position. The overall appearance of the Suzuki was verging on the rat-like but I could fix that the next weekend. For the moment, I was content to enjoy the joys of stroker life. The least endearing was the way both rider and machine were engulfed in a heavy fog every time we rolled to a stop.
Don‘t stop, I told myself. The GT would do an indicated 95mph without too much bother, but refused to do any more however much I wrenched on the throttle in the lower gears. The thick cloud the machine left in its wake bode ill for ultimate engine life, but the lack of vibes convinced me that there could be little that was seriously wrong with the Suzuki.
How naive can you get? It was the old GT500 story. The main bearing seals were shot, pulling in vast quantities of oil from the gearbox. I caught on to the act in time to save the gearbox from destruction but was dismayed to find that the spare engine had suffered the same fate when | peered into its murky depths.
The price of stroker infamy rapidly shot up, £95 poorer for an exchange crankshaft, two weeks later we were back on the road. The blue haze had diminished to an acceptable level, no more did irate cagers poke their heads out of windows, retching whilst trying to scream abuse at me. Top speed, strangely, was down to 89mph, although acceleration and smoothness were as good as ever.
The bike came with stiff Girling shocks out back and front forks so infested with washers that they hardly moved even over the most vicious of bumps. Tyres were run of the mill Venoms, OK in the dry but with a dangerous feel in the wet. The front disc was perilous in the wet and lacked power in the dry. The rear drum was a total bastard, refusing to do anything for most of the time then locking on solidly so suddenly and viciously that the first time it happened I pulled in the clutch thinking the engine had seized! These elements combined to make every ride on the Suzuki something of an adventure. The engine proved steadfast in its reliability, so I had few qualms about doing a couple of hundred miles a day.
Motorways were mostly avoided, A roads were my favourite playground. I needed a bit more room than B roads provided to viciously fling the GT around, a firm grip on the bars and totally ignoring the weaves and wobbles being the best way of crowding the machine through fast curves.
Straight line stability left a lot to be desired and would probably cause a plastic missile rider to throw up, but never became really vicious. An adequate tubular frame (that showed no signs of being bent), conservative geometry and quaintly large wheels saw to that. Despite these old fashioned virtues and over 400lbs of mass, the bike was light enough to throw through sharp bends without threatening muscle rupture. It was just the way the wheels bounced around that was a bit worrying.
Another peculiar trait of the Suzuki was the way it would suddenly go on to reserve, killing the engine stone dead. It did not help that the reserve position no longer functioned. Several time I was left for dead in fast moving traffic, only avoiding death by pulling in the clutch and freewheeling with the horn on, in front of vehicles which must have burnt off a month’s supply of brake material in pulling up so rapidly. I soon learnt to keep an eagle eye on the mileometer; so that more petrol could be bought before the dreaded act could be repeated, the bike doing between 35 and 40mpg. When the speedo cable broke life was made especially interesting.
In two years I did 22500 miles of such fun filled motorcycling, gradually bringing the machine up to an immaculate cosmetic standard. In that time, apart from routine maintenance, I did not have to touch the engine. Incredibly impressive for a machine that was so cheap it was surely ready for the scrapyard! The total mileage on the mileometer reads, as I write this, 87564. As far as I can ascertain, most of the engine components, save for the crank, are still original. As the machine has had no less than nine owners this must say something about the basic toughness of the unit.
I eventually had to upgrade the brakes. This became more urgent when the back wheel bearings went. I decided that a nice set of alloy rims would be in order. Taking the opportunity to have the drum re-skimmed and the front disc, caliper and master cylinder replaced with items off a GS550. Braking was not exactly transformed but the rear now works after a fashion and the front has some power and functions in a predictable manner in the wet. Pads and shoes have so far lasted 9500 miles.
A new fuel tap was bought, the petrol tank protested by cracking around the old one when I tried to remove it. A few taps of the underside with my hammer revealed large areas that had all but rusted through. I thanked god that it had not broken up whilst I was in motion. A new one was ordered and duly fitted when it arrived two months later, the alloy one being used meantime. Problems with the electrics eventually led to a complete rewire. I had little choice in the matter as when I started poking into the wires the insulation began falling off. The front light doubled in intensity after that (though still poor by modern standards) and starting was a mild first kick affair even in the worst conditions. The poor state of the wiring explained why the batteries only lasted for six months.
That's about it really. Old bikes always have minor problems that need attention but the good ones will get you home come what may. I've never fallen off the GT despite its lack of precise handling, probably because I'm always aware of its limitations the way it bounces around there isn’t much choice in the matter.
I've ended up with a splendid looking machine that runs in a most pleasant manner and has cost just under £500 in total. I've been offered £1250 for her already, but I am more than happy with the way the GT performs and don‘t really want to go through the same hassles to get another machine into a similar state. I've just completed an engine rebuild of the spare motor using a mixture of secondhand and new spares, so when the old dear does eventually require serious attention I shall not be off the road for more than a weekend.
Alain Summers