I wasn't feeling very well. I don't think it had anything to do with it being delivery day for the GT380. Though in retrospect, it might’ve been a case of foreboding. Some pervert had done a complete renovation of the 1975 stroker triple, then sold it on to the guy off whom I bought it. The clock read 74000 miles but the rebuild took place at 66000 miles, which if you were feeling optimistic meant the Suzuki was only 8000 miles old. I'd agreed on £1200 - a good deal if you saw the bike as a potential classic and damned silly if it turned out to be a rotting heap.
I staggered out of the house when the guy turned up. Choked on the fumes (they all smoke a little, the owner reckoned) and almost did my head in from the reflected sun off all the chrome. Money and docs were exchanged and I went back to bed.
Two days later I spent an hour kicking the reluctant mill into life. Not much pressure needed on the kickstart but still tiring. Oddly, I found that it’d come to life first kick if used every day, but leave the bike alone for a day and it'd go into its sulking act. It’s a good idea to change the three spark plugs every 500 miles; this was a bike from an era when the oiling system was designed on the safe side and the plugs coked up rapidly. You can get more from a set of plugs but only at the cost of lots of starting hassles and cutting out when idling in traffic.
As to the riding, the GT is a mild old thing, no Kawasaki triple this one. It seemed happiest in top gear at 35 to 85mph. It would wind up to the ton but then go dead as a dodo. Acceleration was similar to a 400 Superdream. Hardly arm wrenching, but more than adequate for seeing off the cages. There was a slight stutter between 4500 and 5000rpm, almost as if the pistons were nipping up in the cylinders, but the momentum of the 400lb machine carried it through the vacuum in power.
The bike wouldn't pull below 30mph in top. Not because there wasn't any power but down to the chain trying to leap off its sprockets. At low revs there was always the chance that one or more plugs would choke up, requiring a handful of throttle and a bit of gearbox action. The latter easy going as the box was very slick and the clutch light.
The only area in which the engine showed its age was vibration. In the seventies it was probably considered smooth and sweet but standards have moved forwards on the back of improved engineering. I couldn't ignore the ruminations of the three cylinder engine, vibes attacking the bars and pegs as the revs rose. At 90mph the buzz was quite fierce in the bars, probably not helped by their being non-standard. It was relatively smooth at 60 to 75mph but tolerable at 85mph.
Suspension was standard, as unbelievably stupid as that might sound. It wasn’t twenty years old, though, had been replaced when the bike was rebuilt. Not that it would’ve made much difference as the standard stuff, even when new, was generally crap. Poorly sprung and lacking in damping. Heavy oil in the front forks and a pair of ancient Girling shocks brought about a semblance of reasonable handling. On the stock stuff it was plain dangerous above 70mph, with weaving, wallowing and wobbling.
Modified, the bike still lacked precision and didn't really feel safe above 90mph on anything other than a billiard flat surface. Bumps had the handlebars twitching in my hands but it always died down once a smoother surface was attained. Compared to a mere 400 Superdream (OK, I admit it, I used to own one), the GT380 was pretty pathetic in the curves. But in relation to its mild performance and aged design it was passable.
It wasn’t a real dog, then, but didn’t inspire much admiration in either myself or the general populace. The latter probably down to the way they were often engulfed in a fog of pollutants... sometimes the engine ran smog free, other times it was up to MZ standards to no rhyme nor reason that I could deduce.
One other irritant was the lack of comfort. The pegs were too far forward, ended up putting too much weight on my backside which screamed in protest after a mere 40 miles. I could wriggle about for another ten miles, or so, but then had to pull over for a breather. The most I did in a day was 300 miles - both my battered arse and tingling fingers protested strongly at this level of abuse.
Another problem with long distance riding was the way the single front disc started to go off after 60 miles. It wasn’t the most powerful device in the world but its relative newness meant it didn’t suffer from seizure. What happened over distance was that it would get too hot, frying the fluid and leading to the kind of fade expected of some ancient SLS drum brake. The rear drum was an on/off switch and engine braking was moderate, so the lack of retardation was often frightening! If I changed the fluid every 1000 miles this trait went away but on the third attempt the bleed nut broke off, so I was stuck with naff braking. This was made much worse in the wet, when the lack of power was emphasised by the wet weather lag and, also, the way the motor would cut down to two or even one cylinders and then suddenly burst forth with full power.
The bike was running some Far Eastern rubber which wasn’t up to much under normal circumstances but wasn’t actually dangerous until the whole 37 horses hit the back wheel in the wet. Then, a wild skid resulted, which turned into a wobble as I tried to fight against it and ended with me giving a skin donation to the tarmac. It's at times like this when you question the validity of motorcycling. The bike was in a much worse state than me.
The GT had flipped from side to side, battering the expensive and once pristine exhaust; denting the classically shaped petrol tank; bending the forks and buckling the front wheel... further investigation revealed that the steering head was twisted out of line! After my skin had healed and the heart palpitations had died down to a tolerable level, the bike was taken down to the local mechanic. Forks and frame straightened, front wheel rebuilt and the rest cleaned up with some careful hammer work.
The result was no longer a pristine wannabe classic but it wasn't quite the kind of dog that attracted plod attention. If the performance didn’t go so somnolent I would have ignored the 500 mile services (points, timing, carbs, plugs, oil, etc) but I reluctantly put the effort in to keep the bike from ending up as a complete wreck.
Despite this, with 79000 miles on the clock the engine locked up solid. I was screaming along at 65mph at the time. By the time I hit on the clutch, the back tyre was shredded and the lurid wobble had a salutary effect on my bowels. When I staggered off the bike I felt right out of it... had to drop my pants and a load in the bushes and then threw up at the other end! I was close to passing out for a minute or two!
By the time I’d got my act back together the engine had cooled and freed up, started third kick. The rattles were even more pronounced than normal but performance appeared OK. It was due for a fresh tune-up, anyway. It seemed like a strong hint that I should sell the bike before it died or killed me!
Its sad state reflected in its price - £750. Even this cheap and cheerful offer was largely ignored. The only offer I had was £400, from an expert on the breed who turned up on a GT550. So it went for that. I wasn’t sad to see the back of it, relieved more like it. I can't think of any element of the bike that really stands out from the mediocre whole. A miss, I think!
Frank Skinner