The owner took me for a spin around the block which left my head spinning and heart pounding. It was only after I handed over the cash that he mentioned the brakes might need a bit of attention. I was to find that the understatement of the year! Both calipers were rotten to their cores and even the discs were wafer thin. They were impossible to find in the breakers, I had to cough up a couple of hundred quid for new replacements.
He also forgot to mention that the clutch action was either on or off. The violence of the takeup meant I stalled it a couple of times. Most embarrassing, the youth loped off inside with a huge grin on his face. I eventually pulled off with a huge wheelie that nearly busted my guts when I hastily backed off the power and the front end slammed down on the tarmac.
The bike needed at least 3500rpm before there was any action from the engine. I was cursing the thing loudly when the revs hit seven grand and the beast nearly pulled my body in half. This was more like it. I changed up into... er, neutral. Tried again, nothing. On the third attempt I persuaded the box into third. Third to fourth was OK then there was nothing. Thanks a lot, buddy, I swore.
Crouched down low over the tank, my body soon began to complain at the riding position. My legs seemed very cramped which did not help with the gear change at all. The huge petrol tank dug into my thighs and rattled whenever the revs went over 8000rpm. Vibes also blitzed the footrests. To cap it all, two miles from home bike and I were drenched by a sudden rainstorm. The skimpy GRP provided next to no protection, I ended up soaked right through.
The brakes having proved themselves diabolical in action were the first thing replaced. The front pads lasted an absurd 3250 miles, partly down to the fact that emergency braking was often necessary to avoid running the bike into other vehicles or merely off the road. I left the rear alone, it was one seized mass of alloy and would do no harm as long as I never tried to use it.
After replacing all the bulbs, another thing I forgot to check, the bike was actually rideable at night. After the first month I had adapted to the riding position, becoming used to what was effectively a three speed gearbox and even mastered the violent clutch. The exhaust howl was another matter - a ten minute ride left my head ringing in agony. I had to admit the youth had got the carbs set up perfectly for this exhaust, there were no flat spots and a tremendous wallop when the power came in.
Another problem was high speed weaves. And I mean weaves as in violent wobbles if you wanted to do more than 80mph. I turned the original shock up to its maximum damping and springing settings then tried to adjust the forks but the adjustments appeared seized in position. Oh well. Tightening up the rear shock a little helped but it wasn't until a brand new set of Metz’s were shoved on that the beast quietened down a little. Unfortunately, after 3000 miles they had worn sufficiently to let the wobbles come back again.
I fitted a fork brace which merely caused the forks to bind up. So that was taken off pronto. A mate reckoned I needed to brace the alloy frame, but although he reckoned he was a dab hand at welding alloy I was not convinced that he would not weaken the frame where he wanted to weld in the braces. Playing around with the tyre pressures just made matters worse. If you want to experience a really violent speed wobble just put 35psi in front and rear tyres!
The Suzuki was extremely light, under 400lbs. Perhaps it was this that made it so twitchy at times as to be unrideable at speed. I eventually got around to having the gearbox looked at, some of the change mechanism parts were replaced to produce a full working gearbox. This allowed the top speed of about 140mph to be fully exploited. But not for long. Talk about needing a couple of lanes of road to survive!
I had to content myself with the blistering acceleration in the lower gears. It really was a fast bugger off the line, spinning the back tyre or aviating the front wheel whenever given the slightest chance. At times it was so rapid that it verged on the uncontrollable. After about five months of abuse it started to weave viciously even at low speeds. The rear suspension bushes were shot. I replaced them and the spindles, packed in a lot of grease and fitted some wheel bearings at the same time.
The bike felt much more stable at speed. She was safe up to about 110mph. Thereafter, the weaves came back, but as long as the tyres were in good shape the bike hung on tenaciously to its line however much the chassis seemed to jump about. On one downhill stretch I managed to achieve the fantastic feat of putting 150mph on the clock. I was flat on the tank, hardly able to see where I was going and sure that at any moment the chassis was going to lose it all.
Replacing the well worn out chain and sprockets did wonders for the drive line lash and even diminished the vibes to an extent. The old back sprocket featured severely hooked teeth. Vibration was always present to a slight degree, only becoming nasty when the engine was revved hard. You had to carry a spare set of bulbs as they would often blow, and check over the chassis bolts once a month as they had a habit of falling out. I nearly lost the silencer and pillion pegs once.
In the next six months I did 10000 miles with only the consumable consumption causing any complaint. With just over 50000 miles on the clock, the camchain started rattling. The chain and its tensioner were duly replaced, about £120. I then decided it was necessary to do 5000 miles in two weeks hurtling around as large a part of Europe as possible.
The bike fell over in the ferry, causing enough damage to the plastic bits to effectively write the Suzuki off. The ferry company did not want to know. I repaired it as best I could with the bodger's combination of Superglue and bungee cords. I roared out of Calais, at the first opportunity riding up the wrong side of the road, causing a Citroen 2CV to run into a ditch. I tried to explain to the irate Frenchman that anyone who drove such a horrible car could expect no better, but this philosophy didn’t impress and I had to risk back injury pushing the undamaged car back on to the road. Anglo-French relations must've been set back twenty years!
It was in Geneva that the electrics packed up. It had to happen in the middle of the rush hour. The bike stalling at a set of lights and a huge queue of irate cagers demanding my blood. Not one of them offered to help push the dead machine into the side of the road, other drivers doing their best to run me down. The generator had called it a day. Fortunately, damage was limited to this component, even the battery was still usable - I could charge it up and ride for about fifty miles at a time.
I had to wait for a week for a friend to mail a used one out to me from England. Whilst there I went for a job interview, got the job if I could start the next day, so the GSXR's breakdown did me a great favour - I earn three times what the stingy UK company was paying for doing less work.
I rewarded the GSXR by trading it in for a new GSXR1100! This is a relatively heavy beast but a much more civilised one and faster still. I don’t regret the trade in, I think GSXR motors are heading for trouble by the time they get past 50000 miles. I had avoided any really serious expense, made a profit on the bike and had loads of fun out of it.
Steve Drayton