After a couple of years of suffering mass derision when turning up at rallies on my chopped, rat Superdream, I decided something had to be done. Obviously, a brand new Harley would've been the business, but there was no way I could scrape that kind of wedge together. Secondhand HD prices were also beyond my means, nothing under three grand in the dealers - HP was the only way I could buy something newish.
Talking with a friendly local dealer about my strange, desperate needs, he pointed, somewhat half heartedly at a Suzuki LS650. It wasn’t love at first sight but after the horrible Dream I could detect a certain amount of lust coursing through my veins. 1988, the bike looked as if I could eat my fish and chips off it. Clean lines, a lovely rumbling big thumper (with a Bonnie silencer) and only 5125 miles on the clock. A quick test ride revealed a machine that had loads of torque, handled beautifully and fitted me like a glove... remember I'd just stepped off a decayed Honda with dubious modifications that had last seen a MOT station five years ago.
This kind of bike isn’t really about performance, it’s all down to looks, style and street credibility. Whilst the LS didn’t quite match a Harley on the latter, I'd seen the odd full bore Angel riding one, so they couldn't be that far out of the game. Could they? No, they wouldn't give me anything for the Honda in part exchange but they would dump it in the local canal for free if I wanted. I didn’t, subsequently selling the heap for £125. I signed several different forms, waited whilst they checked my credit (I had a job, which was good going) and home address. After about twenty minutes | was on the road on my new bolide, catching encouraging images of myself in shop windows as I thudded past.
Riding to work, thumping around country lanes and tearing down the local bypass turned up no problems. I was a bit surprised that a 40hp single couldn't crack the ton, was little faster than the horrible Honda which could be thrashed through the gears with none of the single's finger snapping vibes come 80mph in top. OK, on a cruiser you can’t cruise at more than 70mph for very long because of the riding position, but | was a little disappointed at the lack of top end performance. It’s always useful to have a large dose of wallop for overtaking situations where acceleration is suddenly necessary.
The LS was an absurdly easy bike to ride, with smooth controls, loads of torque and stable handling at sub 80mph speeds. With only 350lbs to hurtle through bends, cornering was no great problem as long as you could take the sudden lurches when the stands touched down. After the Superdream I was in seventh heaven for the first couple of months.
I couldn’t wait to take the bike to its first rally. I spent the previous night polishing the bike to a mirror shine only to have to ride through constant drizzle the next morning. The bike was covered in muck and then fell over in the mud. I was almost in bloody tears. I managed to get the tent up, by then the rain stopped and the sun came out. For the first time ever, I managed to bed a biker bird. Unfortunately, I found out the next day that she was one of those types who like to have sex with every biker she comes across - but only for the one time. I was just another lay in a long line. Worse still, I found my crotch was itching like someone had poured pepper on it. I spent the weekend in paranoid agony. When I went to see the doctor after the weekend, she treated me like I was a leper. I had a crotch full of crabs and had to pour some acidic lotion into it. Bloody great.
The LS had also protested at doing a 1000 miles over a weekend, the starter motor making strange noises, refusing to turn the engine over fast enough to light its fires. The dealer didn’t want to know until I threatened to stop paying the HP. He agreed to pay for a used item from a breaker if I could locate one, but I'd have to fit it myself.
There were a surprisingly large number of 650s in breakers, most of them with bent forks. All the futile churning of the starter had also drained the battery which was lacking about half its acid, so I screwed a new battery out of the dealer whilst he was still talking to me. He mumbled something about ruining his profit margins but I placated him by agreeing to buy a Harley from him when I could afford one... like never!
The first ride after that I narrowly missed putting the bike through a police car. I'd been craning my neck to look at the local hookers showing off their suspender belts, only looking where I was supposed to be going when I heard their horn. They were not amused, threatening to arrest me for kerb crawling, although by then the bike had wandered over to the wrong side of the road. They checked the bike, and then myself over, grudgingly letting me off with a warning and telling me not to come into that area again.
The guarantee was only for three months and there were no further problems until five months into the machine’s life. Smoke started pouring out of the silencer and performance disappeared. Whoever had fitted the Bonnie silencer had not altered the carb. The piston had a neat, round hole dead in its centre. A breaker turned up a standard exhaust and a piston.
The bike was both quieter and faster, putting a 105mph on the clock, although I did miss the great thumping roar that had reverberated behind me before. By then I was impressed with the low running costs, nothing seemed to wear out and fuel was a useful 65mpg (the Superdream had been giving only 36mpg). I was doing as much as a 1000 miles a week during the summer, really enjoying myself on the weekends. If there wasn’t a rally I could visit, I would just strap the tent on the back and head off into the countryside, setting up the tent wherever took my fancy.
The bike didn’t seem to pull birds. I know blokes on Harleys who have no trouble, but the Suzuki lacks that kind of charisma, or perhaps it’s just myself as I tog myself up, all too literally, as one of the great unwashed. It makes a great contrast with the gleaming Suzuki. When one leg of my jeans came adrift as I was lurching through York after a mega beer session, I became the centre of much mirth, but | managed to hobble back to the LS without too much loss of face. Having a bath once a month probably doesn’t help with the birds.
After a year with the Suzuki I began to become a little bored, having forgotten how awful the old Honda had been. A lack of overtime meant I was paying a huge wedge of my earnings over every month. I decided to trade down to something older but changed my mind when I realised that the money I would get for the bike would only just pay off the balance of the HP. The editor wouldn’t allow the string of four letter words I'd like to apply to HP companies, so take it as read.
With 23103 miles on the clock the gearbox jammed in second. The transmission had previously been ultra smooth, giving not a moment’s worry or false change. I didn’t mind riding around in second gear in town, for a week I thudded into work and back every day. The selector was as bent as a two quid note, again a breaker saved the day. The engine was easy to work on, the alloy of a better quality than most Japanese bikes. I have not yet experienced the usual stripped threads.
Shortly after this I went straight in a big way. Wearing a suit to work every day, which looked a bit odd on the LS. This paid off as I managed to get promoted, which almost doubled my income. Still no luck with the women, though. When the silencer started smoking again at 29000 miles, | knew it was time to trade in for the Real Thing. I poured some gunge into the cylinder which provided a temporary seal between rings and bore. Long enough to get a good trade-in on a slightly used Harley Sportster. The HD is a completely different story, which, if you're lucky, I'll relate some other time. The LS was a good stop-gap, but I reckon most people will only accept the great god, Harley.
Mitch