Suzuki GSX1100S

Motorcycles are strange old things. Motorcyclists stranger still! I was minding my own business, walking through North London, when I spied the metallic grey monster. Stopped in my tracks, then whipped through the traffic to the other side of the road. The wife was still meandering along, under the impression that I was just behind her rather than about to squander the family's entire savings!

It wasn't even outside a dealers. The owner came out of the supermarket to find me pawing his superbike. When he realised it was a case of motorcycle lust rather than larceny he was OK about it. As it happens, he was quite keen to sell and, yes, two grand would just about seal the deal. The bank was just up the road and he lived around the corner. Money exchanged for docs, a quick talk with the insurance broker on the mobile, and the deed was done.

He was kind enough to throw in a lid, I roared home just ahead of the nearest and dearest. 1100 Katanas look outrageously fast just standing still, so when I wobbled to a standstill she thought some biker was trying it on! Hey Presto! Off with the lid, big grin - gobsmacked was an understatement. We'd actually done our courting on a CB750F1 (not literally, I hasten to add), she knew all about the joys of motorcycling.

Still, it took a bit of sweet talking to bring her around but after a few fast and sweaty runs on the 1100, she could see the total outrageous sense of it all. Luckily, this was the summer of '98, the weather held up long enough to get her back into the game. The Katana was one of my dream bikes back two decades ago, was, in fact, the fastest and most powerful machine I'd ever owned... not having ridden a bike for eight years made it an even crazier experience.

Two grand for an eighteen year old bike? This one was close to immaculate, had done only 17000 miles and growled contently with its good engineering, The owned bunged me a wad of receipts - new seat, exhaust and air filter as well as recent tyres. Three owners but they had all kept the bike for at least half a decade each. I've since seen them advertised for three grand, so that impulse buy wasn't totally insane.

The wife only really began to complain after I took her for a fast run up the M1. After an hour she was squirming around with an intensity she never manages in bed. The combination of the saddle's lack of compliance and the big four's secondary vibes led to massive discomfort. Had to pull into the services to give her a chance to stretch her legs; thereafter she wanted some relief every 30 minutes. The Katana happily cruised at 120-130mph, mileage still rapidly covered. I could do two hours in the saddle before I felt the need for a stretch - I have long arms which work well with the Kat's clip-ons and otherwise fitted the machine OK. My part of the saddle could've done with more padding but | must have a tough arse.

I could always take my mind off the comfort by using the acceleration and gearbox, the latter typically slick. Blistering was the only way to describe how the bike roared forward, the poor old wife had to hug me intimately or be thrown right off the back! I didn't mind this at all! It wasn't a wheelie bike, though, too long and too much mass to go out of control (for all its sporting pretensions and lean look, it still sent the scales past the 500Ib mark).

Handling was generally fine. Yes, they had a reputation for weaves and wobbles but this one had strong suspension and grippy Avon tyres, was quite stable on smooth roads. Bends with bumps in them had the bike a bit squeamish and not entirely stuck on the line that I wanted to take. High speed motorway sweepers, taken at 125mph, had the back wheel weaving but I never had the bars wrenched out of my hands, as some Katana owners have experienced. I suspect that had any of the bearings, tyres or suspension components gone off then a very different beast would've emerged!

Fuel was about 40mpg, though pottering around town at mild revs gave 60mpg. There was a bit of jerkiness in the throttle action at low revs but disassembly of the throttle, oiling of the cabling and perfect balancing of the four carbs soon sorted it. The drive chain needed a daily tweak but it might've been the one that came with the machine, the sprockets certainly looked far gone. Still, there were no tight spots in the run and it's lasted the 3200 miles I've done so far.

As I work from home, I don't have much incentive to ride through the harsher winter months, the bike a bit tremulous on wet, slimy roads, needing a careful throttle hand and taller gear than I'd normally employ. I cleaned it up after riding through wet weather, which has kept its finish fine - the matt black exhaust becomes spotted with rust but it wipes off easily, I doubt if it would last for more than three winters, though. The calipers needed a strip down at the end of January to stop them sticking on, but they pulled apart without much hassle.

At one point, I was worried about the starting, but that just turned out to be poor contacts on the battery connectors - too much white crud. The battery's level needs topping up every 1000 miles, or so. Electrics are notoriously weak on these bikes but mine is still running Suzuki rectifier/regulator and the alternator screws don't look like they have ever been touched. Any weakness in any electrical component will cause the whole lot to overheat and blow, as will neglecting regular oil changes!

At this age, bikes always have little niggles and problems turning up. Expect that, but at the same time enjoy the sheer brutality of the Katana - it's still in a class of its own!

John Wright

 

Tips and Tricks

Here's some tips that I've picked up over the years that will save you a few bob, and help make life that little bit easier to boot. No doubt most of you out there already know most of these but remember there are loads of folk who have just taken up biking, and won't know about such things as annealing copper head gaskets or how to straighten that bent alloy lever without snapping it!

If you are inexperienced and fuck up a couple of times, don't be dissuaded - we all have! You will soon get the hang of things and before long wonder what all the fuss and bother was about, and even end up enjoying fixing your bike when something goes tits. In fact, dare I say you could even start getting a bit bored when all's going well and start tinkering with things, trying to improve them!

GENERAL STUFF

To straighten that bent alloy lever, don't try to bend it cold! It will either snap or be weakened so much that when attempting to, say, apply the front brake in a hurry it might well snap (metal fatigue). The only method to really use is to heat the lever first, then straighten it. To ensure that you heat it to the correct temperature rub some soap around where you intend to bend it. When applying the heat the correct temperature is reached when the soap turns black! When straightened douse the lever in water because unlike copper aluminium will go soft if left to cool naturally.

Incidentally, when removing bearings from crankcases be vary careful that you don't overheat the casing and inadvertently soften the alloy. When fitting a new bearing with an interference fit put the bearing in the freezer overnight, and the casing in the oven at 100 degrees one hour beforehand (wait until her indoors is out first!). The bearing should now just drop tight in, no problem!

If the bearing still doesn't fit into the casing easily, then it will probably need to be pressed, or pulled, in. If you haven't had much experience of doing this then I would suggest that you get someone more experienced to help you, otherwise you might well end up knackering either the bearing, casing, or both!

To remove a broken stud first apply a little heat then try locking two nuts together. If there's not enough room for this, tack one nut to the stud with weld. If there is no room for either of these then file the end of the stud flat and cut a slot in it and try a screwdriver. If all else fails then get hold of a stud extractor kit, not those crappy tapered ‘easyouts' though.

If you can't afford a stud extractor kit then very carefully drill out the stud, ensuring that you keep the drill straight and level, and that you just leave the threaded portion of the stud remaining. Now using a needle punch very carefully collapse the remaining threaded portion by gently tapping the punch with a hammer. Using a scribe or pointy ended pliers you should now be able to remove the remains of the stud. I would also suggest that you now clean up the thread with a tap.

Seized on nuts are another bitch, if it's totally shagged then you have either got to use a nut-splitter or if there's room get a hacksaw and very carefully slice the nut in half, taking care not to damage the thread on the stud/bolt. Again, clean up the threads with a die.

Don't bother buying gaskets (except composite head gaskets and the like) - just make your own. Go to a decent motor factors and ask for a selection of gasket paper (in various thickness). Use the old gasket as a template or draw around the engine cover, etc. then just cut it out with a craft knife. To make holes for bolts and oilways just get some old hydraulic pipe, grind the end sharp and level, then just temper the end (heat it red hot and dunk it in water).

You can also make copper head gaskets as well if you need to. Use the same method as before on copper sheet which you should be able to obtain from any good DIY shop or ironmongers. Don't forget when reassembling to apply a little grease to paper gaskets. This not only aids assembly and disassembly, but also ensures everything's oil tight. If reusing a copper gasket (say a head gasket) don't forget to anneal it first. This will soften it, allowing a good seal. To do this, heat up the gasket until it's cherry red and douse it in water.

Don't do this with the copper washers on brake lines, though, it's not worth the risk of a bad seal, unless you reckon your life is worth about 5p which is the price of a new washer!

Remember when tightening down bolts that the torque value given is for assembling dry unless otherwise specified, ignore this and you can easily shear bolts and strip threads by over tightening them. So bear this in mind when applying Copperslip to everything!

Paint the U-clip which holds on your chain link white, you are more likely to see if it's missing then. You may laugh at this, but consider what the consequences could be if you didn't notice that the U-clip was missing before going out for a thrash!

When replacing head bearings try a push-bike shop, or ironmongers first, it's usually a lot cheaper than elsewhere. Always try to use industrial suppliers and motor factors for electrical connectors, wire, stainless fasteners, bearings and the like. This will save you a fortune, but bear in mind that you might well be buying in quantities of 50 or more when ordering fasteners and the like.

ELECTRICAL

Cheap replacement parts such as starter solenoids, voltage regulators, multi-pin connectors, etc, can be obtained from any auto-electrician. It can save you a fortune. For example, a starter solenoid for my Trident was going to cost 36 quid from the dealer (plus VAT), but only a tenner from an auto-electrical dealer!

It's worthwhile investing in a pair of proper ratchet bullet connector pliers (about 15 quid), your new loom will then stay in one piece and you won't drop any volt's due to bad connections. Also, always use loom tape, not insulation tape, when repairing or making a loom. If you need to make a repair at a later date it makes life a lot easier, no sticky goo everywhere!

It's a good idea to seal the HT lead into the plug cap with silica-set. It will ensure that no damp can get in past the rubber sleeve and short it out. Also don't forget to WD40 all electrical connections, including fuses. This will help inhibit corrosion, thus improve conductivity (bigger spark, brighter lights), and ultimately performance and reliability.

BRAKES

When rebuilding Jap brake callipers you will find that most parts are interchangeable between different bikes. For example, I tried to get a new set of rubber boots and pins (two pot floating calliper) for my Trident. Triumph said that they were not available and that I would have to buy a new calliper at around 200 quid. I discovered that the same parts are also fitted to Hondas, cost eighteen quid!

When fitting new brake lines to a bike which is to be used all year round it's not advisable to use alloy end fittings. The reason is that alloy and salt aren't the best of friends and the resulting corrosion could end in brake failure (you will find most manufacturers warn of this now).

If you have problems bleeding the brakes - let's face it, we all do from time to time - here's a method which should make life that bit easier. Get hold of a large syringe (chemists or farming suppliers) and some PVC tubing that will fit both the end of the sytinge and the bleed nipple. Now fit the tube to both (you might have to wire-lock the tube on to get an oiltight seal). Fill the syringe with brake fluid and then proceed to bleed the brakes bottom up by pumping fluid into the calliper with the syringe, not forgetting to lock off the nipple as you would normally. If you have twin discs you will need to do this with both callipers.

Alternatively you could try tying back the brake lever overnight, allowing the air to rise up the brake line to the piston in the master cylinder. On releasing the lever next morning the air should be sucked out as the piston in the master cylinder returns to the open position.

CARBS

Got a Kawasaki, or some other bike that has carbs that have screw and locknut adjusters? Don't fancy paying 20 quid or so for a carb adjusting tool? Just get the right size socket for the locknut and a foot of quarter inch steel tubing. Braze, or weld, seven inches of the tubing on to the socket ensuring that you don't block the hole up. Braze the other three inches as a T-piece on to the top of the tube, and Bob's your uncle. All you need now is a screwdriver that will fit through the tube and socket.

How about a tool to check the float heights? You should find that the drain screws in the float bowl in old type Jap carbs are the same size as the small cable adjusters in the carb tops (go see a breaker for bits). What you do is put a length of clear fuel line on to the old adjuster, ensuring it's a good seal. Now put a washer on to the threaded end followed by an O-ring (important!). Now ensuring that the end of the tube is above the float bowl attach the other end as you would with a normal float height tool (usually to the float drain hole!). If you want you can even mark the tube so that you can measure the float height easier. While attaching and removing this tool ensure the petrol's turned off, and that none spills on to a hot exhaust. Oh yeah, don't smoke either!

LUBRICATION

An easy and cheap method to oil cables is using a small poly bag and a rubber band. Cut the corner off the poly bag, just enough to slip the cable in. Then use the rubber band attach it to the cable. Now make sure that the end with the bag on is higher than the rest of the cable, and that there is a rag round the other end of it. Fill the bag with about 50ml of light machine oil, try not to use anything heavier otherwise the cable will drag. Leave the cable overnight to let the oil drain through. You should now have a nicely oiled cable!

Can't afford a Scottoiler? Well here's how to make a very cheap manual version, it may seem a bit dodgy but is ideal for that winter hack! Buy a large syringe and a length (bars to back wheel) of PVC tubing that will fit over the end. Bear in mind that you don't really want the internal diameter to be over one eighth of an inch so you may have to buy two different diameters and slip one into the other so it all fits together. Attach the syringe somewhere, preferably out of sight, where you can reach it while on the move. Feed the PVC tubing from there to the front of the chain guard and attach it in such a way that the end of the tube sits about three quarters of an inch above the chain. Now fill the syringe with 90W gear oil and bleed through to remove any air. And that's it! All you need to do is push in the plunger a tadge every 100 miles or so to keep your chain nicely oiled. It does work because I've done it to my winter hack, and as long as you don't push the plunger in too much it doesn't even make a mess your back wheel, ideal for those shitty winter months when your chain gets a real hard time.

Another method, which was used by some Brit bike manufacturers, as well as Kawasaki on some of their earlier models, was to run the crankcase breather back and direct the end of it on to the drive chain. Although this method isn't really suitable for more modern machines, as you can well imagine!

CLEANING AND CORROSION

Old engine oil mixed with white spirit will protect your engine from corrosion in the winter just as well as WD40, but at a fraction of the price. Mix it up and use one of those small insecticide sprayers, from gardening shops, to apply it . You can also use hard grease instead of oil for a better, cleaner rust inhibitor, and it's still ten times cheaper [In '92 it wasn't widely known that old engine oil was carcinogenic, but it is now. The only thing I will do with that shit nowadays is take it down the recycling site - 2020 Ed.].

Grate-Black can be used on that black exhaust to keep it looking like new. It's cheap and more heat resistant than most so-called heat resistant paint. You can obtain it from any ironmonger or fireplace shop. It comes in a tub, or tube, and is usually applied to a clean oil free surface with a damp cloth. It'll stain your hands, though, so use some barrier cream if possible, otherwise you will end up looking like one of the Black and White Minstrels (remember them?).

Here's how to save that chromed mudguard from rusting through from the inside out. Firstly remove the mudguard and thoroughly clean it. Then just paint the inside with underseal, simple yet very effective. Once done your mudguard should last forever. The same method can also be applied to the underneath of your tank if it's prone to rust.

If the wifey is away shopping you will find that the dishwasher makes a fine job of cleaning those oily engine cases, they come out sparkling! But for fuck's sake don't let her catch you doing this otherwise you may well end up in casualty, plus the workshop's not the best place to spend the night!

Tim Fowler

Honda CD200

You have to laugh at these people. I turned up to see this Benly, inspired by the advert - immaculate, low mileage, etc - to do a forty mile trek. Only to find that it was an old wreck of a thing, suppurating corrosion, torn up seat and a rattly motor. The clock, with 5000 miles on it, the only newish thing about the steed. After a bit of a shouting match with the owner who seemed shocked at my lack of enthusiasm, I was allowed on the saddle and out on to the road.

The riding position left me propped high above the machine, my six feet plus frame looking a bit out of place on the diminutive twin. The owner fought hard to hide a snigger. The bike bounced along on clapped out suspension, the engine didn't want to wind up and overall gave a general impression of being a bit of an old hack. The gearbox was surprisingly slick for an old Honda and the engine was also oil tight.

Fifty quid? Nope, five times that. Before I could burst into laughter, the owner pulled me into his garage and showed me a couple of old Benlys in bits. Throw them in for free. OK, how about a ton and a half? Final offer. Some muttering, dark looks and the docs were found, the deal done.

Fred, the fabled Transit owner, was summoned, the Benly and assorted bits thrown into the back. Half an hour later, I was as happy as a brickie on double time, tearing off various rotted Chassis components and choosing the best parts from the large selection. The only real problem, all the petrol tanks were equally rotted. A couple of conversations with breakers revealed the chance of getting an intact specimen was on a par with finding an honest dealer.

The best of the bunch was lovingly punctured with my oldest screwdriver, the large holes had steel plate riveted in and then a layer of GRP, sanded down and painted. Didn't look half bad and no signs of petrol leakage. Later, I found a brand new tank for thirty notes, from a dealer getting rid of old stock.

The engine's rattles were caused-by a stringy camchain, which was replaced in situ. The valve clearances set, new oil added, the engine purred with renewed vigour and the chassis had a reasonable enough shine to ensure a new MOT certificate.

The open road beckoned. Performance was a bit of a disappointment. Acceleration could be described as stately if you were of a benign disposition; more likely as dog slow! It needed life threatening revs in first, second and third if more than 50mph was wanted on the speedo. Otherwise, it was reluctant to go over 40mph.

Top speed, max revs in all the gears, was 75mph but the slightest bit of wind or upward gradient reduced that to 65mph. 32000 miles on the clock, some heavy wear on what | figured was the original engine - the deep corrosion on the engine screws suggested most of them had never been touched my human hand probably explaining that!

Starting was an interesting ritual, needing perfect throttle and choke positioning as well as at least five kicks from cold. If used in town for a couple of hours, the motor went so hot that it conked out, maybe even momentarily seizing. Not one to indulge in unwarranted exercise, new spark plugs were deemed necessary...

I've been around the block enough times to be totally aware of the perils of old Japanese alloy. The old plugs, predictably, reluctant to come out until the wrench was given a short, sharp tap with a hammer so heavy I could barely lift it. The plugs actually creaked as they were unwound and looked like original fare. The new ones, given a squirt of WD40 to ease their way in, went in fine but one went loose on the final twist before catching. Thought I'd blown it but it was OK in the end.

Starting improved to a lackadaisical single kick and acceleration was a bit more sprightly though the bike was still reluctant to go above 65mph. I wandered around on it for the next few months, doing a ten mile daily commute and a bit of weekend back-laning. Used to its ways, I found I enjoyed most of the miles.

Handling was loose but predictable. Ground clearance and cheap tyres limited the fun but it never seemed really dangerous. If it was bounced around by the bumps and twitched its bars on occasion, it would blast along at about 60mph without too much effort or hassle.

By the time the clock was up to 16000 (probably three times that in real life) miles, though, the engine was actually knocking away and the rotted silencers were smoking heavily. Obviously on the way out. A trip to the local breakers secured a complete, crashed bike, with an engine that ran fine. Eighty quid!

The transplant went without any hassle until it was time to connect up the wiring loom. The wires coming out of the engine ended in a non-standard connector that not even the most fervent optimist could fit to the old loom. OK, take the old one off the transplant bike and fit that to my loom, except that it left two wires unaccounted for!

Turned out that the transplant bike was running a 12V alternator, my Benly a 6V system! The solution was to swap all the electrics over! It might've been easier to swap alternators but I don't like to touch motors that are running fine. Besides, the appalling front light was long overdue for an upgrade. The 12V unit was at least three times more powerful; same for the horn.

One problem I hadn't foreseen was that the 12V battery was very dead and couldn't be revived. The same breaker let me have a replacement for a fiver and also agreed to buy all my spare chassis parts for which I had no use - thirty quid. At least I could now get into my garage without hitting my shins on disparate bits of motorcycle

The open road beckoned again. I had no high expectations of the new motor, and was pleasantly surprised when I found there was a bit more blood and guts in the 19000 miler. Alas, nothing's that simple. Though it accelerated almost briskly, the gearbox was a typical old Honda unit with a total lack of feel and thus a surfeit of false neutrals. Embarrassing, having the old hack screaming at about ten thousand revs in the middle of town rather than shooting through the stalled traffic.

With its new found ability to blast through 70mph and put 80mph on the clock, the lack of handling and braking finesse became rather frightening. On one 75mph comer, the bike bouncing and wallowing like the end was near, the stand's prong dug it, levering the back wheel off the ground. A bowel loosening twitch, a. fight with the bars, we were back on the straight and narrow.

Fuel had also improved. Previously, I'd been getting 60mpg; with the new engine, 75-80mpg despite higher speeds and better acceleration. Oil consumption also improved, from about a litre a week to none needed between 500 mile changes (left any longer, the gearchange became totally impossible).

I had the chance of a decent set of CB400N forks, wheel and twin discs for forty notes. Taking off the old Benly forks, discovered some cracks in the lower yoke! Probably saved myself from an untimely death. The twin discs had the whole bike bouncing around with the untoward retardation. The front end was also much more precise, really showing up the soggy stock shocks, so a pair was found in the breakers in exchange for the Benly's old front end! The breaker seemed not the least bit concerned when I pointed out the cracks.

With half decent handling, plausible acceleration, and a chassis in reasonable condition, I had a really useful commuter that would also take on milder weekend trips. Comfort would've been limited by the stock seat, which basically falls apart after a few years, but a used 2:4 item was persuaded on; its duck's tail didn't match the bulbous petrol tank but it was really comfortable for the rider (turned the wife very bitchy on the pillion).

I would've kept the bike for much longer, had not someone offered me a good deal on a Honda CB400, the Benly taken in part exchange. They rot deeply, the engines go off by 35000 miles, but they can be resurrected for next to nothing and make worthy hacks. 

 

K.I.

 

Born Again Angst

I sold my last bike, a CX500, 15 years ago after I passed my car test, as we had two young kids and driving was new then. For years I have driven about 30000 miles a year (I'm service engineer on cash dispensers) around the North West and North Wales. That sort of mileage takes most of the pleasure out of driving, especially in a 1700 diesel Astra. I started having a look in motorcycle shops on my travels, just to see what was available, you understand.
 

So what did I find? Loads of plastic rocketships, Harley Davidsons that say Kawasaki or Yamaha on the tank, and high prices. Things had changed a bit. Any bike that I liked the look of seemed to be called a cruiser or a retro.

The nearest and dearest at first ignored all hints about bikes, until one day I was informed that I was ‘not having a bike and that's that.' Yes, progress at last! I decided my total budget was £2000 (available credit on the Visa), and that I would prefer a newish bike to a classic, (I want to ride it, not restore it!) and up to 600cc, at least to start off with.

Here are some of the bikes I found in dealers. Kawasaki Zephyr 550, 93/L, 30K on MPH clock, £1900. Good looking bike, apart from no shaft drive. Import from France (No, I won't buy the apples). The dealer said he had the original kph clock showing only 12000 kilometres, it had paperwork showing that it been exported in June 97, but had only been registered in the UK in September 1998. The fork's oil seals were shot, the oil level window was full of sludge so I couldn't see if any lube was in there, and the engine sounded very noisy below 2000 rpm.

Honda Silverwing, 81/W, 30K on mph clock, £1250. It was a standard CX500 with a Rickman fairing and the whole thing had been sprayed with silver/aluminium paint. I could even see the original transfers on the tank, under the new paint. Nice to see a dealer with a sense of humour!

Kawasaki Zephyr 550, 92/K, 17K on kph clock, £1750. Nice condition, sounded good, oil level window clean, Motad exhaust. However, there was what looked like chewing gum at the bottom of the barrels...

Kawasaki Zephyr 550, 95/N, 18K on mph clock, £2500. Reasonable condition, but it had been thrown up the road on both sides. Dealer chap confided that the lady concerned had already thrown her new bike down the road.
 

Honda CB750, 91/J, 18,000 on mph clock, £1850. Looked like a Zephyr at first glance. Bike had been dropped, the tank was dented and the handlebars had been replaced. Dealer wanted rid of it and would accept £1750 for cash.

Zephyr 550, Red, 91/J, 6K on mph clock, £1850. Good condition, original exhaust and tyres, engine sounded OK, new rear shocks. All previous MOT certificates, three previous keepers, including one lady owner, but I don't hold that against the bike. The brake lever was bent forward, and both the right front indicator lens and the end of the exhaust were scratched. Got a swelling in my credit card, but forced myself to leave.

Next day, wife wanted to go to B&Q so I take her, along with No. 1 son (8), there via the dealers. Son is impressed, wife isn't, but agrees to have a look around anyway, but ‘you're still not having one, etc.’ She likes one of the new Triumphs, at just under £7000. I tell her that the bike I like is the cheapest one in the shop.

She points to a space-age scooter thing for £1400... Very funny! I show her the Zephyr and she says that ‘at least it looks like a proper motorbike, but you're still...’ No. 1 son also finds a small Yamaha PW50 for himself and asks if he can have it, if it costs less than £20, as he has £12 already. He asks the salesman the price and is informed that it costs £925.

His little face really fell at this news, but the dealer still wouldn't knock £900 off the price. Mean bastards, aren't they? He looked so miserable that I swear the wife briefly considered letting him have a motorbike instead of me! Finally get permission (well I think I did, bit of a grey area really) from my nearest and dearest to have a bike.

Back to the dealers and prepare to haggle. 'So why is this bike so cheap then?' (Good start, eh!). Finally negotiate a free helmet, the bike will have a full service, 12 months MOT, 2 months warranty and the brake lever replaced. I also booked a 2 hour refresher training course for £40. Well, if I am going to fall off as soon as I throw leg over a bike again, it might as well be on one theirs!

The first hour was on a Honda 125. Finally managed to weave in and out of the cones, with my feet on the rests. Then on to a Kawasaki ER500, a bit more practice in the training area, and then out on to the open road. I was equipped with a radio receiver so I could hear the instructor. 'Don't forget the life-saver, take the next turn left, no the other left, now turn the indicators off, no push the button for off, keep the back brake on while stationary, select first gear ready to go, right let's speed up to 30...’

Speed up to 30mph? I thought we were doing 70! No, only 20, with a car right on my number plate. Very worthwhile course for anyone returning to motorcycling. One week later | paid the balance and it was all mine. Spent £120 on gloves, waterproofs and boots in the accessories dept. The dealer delivered it on Friday, and I bought the road tax on Monday.

The weather was awful Monday, so I waited until Tuesday before attempting the maiden voyage. Before the assembled family, and a few odd stray kids, I proudly emerged in full riding gear, threw my leg over the beast and prepared to go forth. Would it start, like hell it would. Bloody thing, it quickly flattened the battery, with only the odd misfire from the exhaust to show for my efforts.

Borrowed battery charger and bought distilled water (battery almost dry) and tried again Wednesday. Still no luck, so I decided it must be a female! I dismantled and cleaned the HT leads, but didn't have a spark plug spanner to check the plugs. Drained the carbs, the petrol looked clean. It didn't seem to matter what position the side stand switch was in, and the kill-switch stopped the starter motor working.

However, this gave me a chance to really inspect the bike. Found some paint spray on top of the cam covers, and the petrol tank had a small area of slightly darker paint. The plastic rear mudguard had been trimmed and had a large crack in it under the seat, and the RHS engine cover (where the ignition hides) also had a crack in it. Also noticed how quickly engine oil goes black, considering it had just been changed by the dealer!

Phoned dealer on Thursday morning, and it was collected during the day. It was Saturday before I could get to the dealers. New spark plugs had been fitted, (full service, eh?), and I got the blame for flooding it. Did 24 miles on first tour of the Wirral on Sunday before I felt a thump. The rear mudguard had broken in two and one indicator was being destroyed by the back wheel. Good job I had put a small tool kit under the seat, including insulation tape.

09:00 Monday I was at the door of the dealer again. Small argument later and they again agreed to collect the bike and repair it. Took another two weeks to get the Kawa back (just in time to put it away for the winter). New rear mudguard had been fitted plus new clutch cable (it was very frayed), the old indicator refitted, but repaired (glued!), and the tool kit missing. After another complaint, I was presented with new, genuine, Kawasaki tool kit from the workshop.

So what's it like to ride? Feels light and nimble, even on the original tyres, although replacements would make a big difference. It out-accelerates most cars in the traffic light Grand Prix, and stops well (thank you to the bus driver for the first emergency stop). Boy does it feel good to be back in the saddle, although I am concentrating too much to yet have the permanently welded grin.

On the downside, the front folks feel too soft and too low, I don't like how it turns into slow speed corners, the rear end too hard, too many tingles through the handlebars, tickover a bit erratic, and I can hear a tapping when cold. Looks like it will be a busy winter.

Dear Santa, Kawasaki ZR550 Manual, 5L engine oil, oil filter, fork oil seals, fork oil, Scottoiler, rear tyre, fender extender, engine bars, and RHS engine cover, please. Oh, and a bunch of flowers for the wife. Ta, Mr. Claus.

Anon.

 

Despatches: Surviving Shit City

I started off doing the London hustle on a venerable Honda C90 step-thru. As can be imagined, a laugh a minute. Cagers took the ancient hack as an open invitation to turn violent, little realising that despite my lack of cc's I was actually prone to the odd spot of retribution - Happy Henry a hero and inspiration. The police don't take too kindly-to youths carrying large batons or tyre-irons, so my form of attack was kicking the sides of cars with ex-army boot shod feet or slamming the Honda into offending vehicles.

A few seconds worth of violence could result in thousands of quids worth of damage. Don't get me wrong, I was quite happy to leave the cars well alone, just so long as they did the same for me. More often than not, though, viewing a wreck of a motorcycle charging through the traffic at 30-40mph was a cause for rage. Most of that down to the drivers sitting in hugely expensive coffins whilst I motored along on a hundred quid hack at ten times their velocity!
 

Almost understandable, but not when someone tries to ram you in the gutter or close the gap between cars. Just to confuse things, I had a set of air-horns off an artic that made cagers jump in their seats and peds drop a load. A favourite trick was to come up behind some city gent and let loose with the horn. Poor chap usually disintegrated before my eyes, expecting to be run over by some out of control lorry. Laugh? I almost fell off...

There's an art to falling off step-thru's. All protuberances to the rear have to be relocated out of harm's way, allowing the rider to step off the machine when the going gets dangerous! You wouldn't believe the damage and panic that a riderless Honda C90 can cause when careering through Central London traffic, Although the front suspension doesn't work in a manner recognizable to anyone used to proper motorcycles, it's actually quite a strong set-up that doesn't collapse the first time it hits a car! Even if it's knocked a bit out of line, doesn't make much difference to the appalling handling.

I ended up with a couple of the things plus an excess of spares. Cheap running costs, almost indestructible engine (change the oil every full moon!) and a narrowness that let it sneak through the most diabolical of traffic gaps. Ride one like you don't have a care in the world, the cagers will soon learn their lessons! I stuck with the C90's for just over a year until I'd had enough of the DR scene - at 19 it's not too amusing to have loads of hair falling out and a fit of the shakes like some ninety year old! Sold everything off to another wannabe DR, quite happy to have cleared 15000 quid in profit - work like a dog, take massive risks and know where you're going, anything's possible in London.

 

Two years later most of the money had been blown on the lowlife on the Costa. Given the choice between selling time-shares down there or returning home to London despatching, didn't need much thought. I had enough money to buy an import CB1 and persuaded some friends that my dossing down on their sofa was a good idea - be out working or drinking most of the time, won't notice I'm there, mate. The Honda CB1's a neat, compact machine that handled beautifully, stopped smartly and accelerated rapidly enough to avoid most caged antics. The DR company I was working for had loads of long distance stuff, something like a C90 wouldn't make the grade.
 

In London, the Honda lacked a little bit of agility and I was sometimes caught in traffic when on the C90 I would've just breezed right through. My riding style was somewhat muted as the bike represented the total sum of my wealth! But for hustling to far flung corners of the country it was on the pace - the cops were kind enough to book me at 120mph on the M4 and were not amused when I didn't show up on their computer - fascist bastards. I told them an unlikely tale about being from New Zealand which almost got me off. Unfortunately, one of them had been there on holiday and gave me twenty questions which I failed dismally. The ticket never did catch up with me.

The CB1 came with 27000km on the clock and I doubled that before the motor started rattling away from the top end. Maintenance was the usual - change the oil when the gearchange went loose. Fresh oil helped the noise and the shop I bought it from didn't seem to notice the racket - or perhaps they were just happy to off-load the 400 Bandit that no-one else wanted to buy despite its low mileage and immaculate condition. As winter was on the way, it was soon covered in road grime - shite finish, the paint peeled off when I tried to clean the muck off! I changed DR companies, not fancying freezing my balls off doing long distance trips to godforsaken parts of the Kingdom (anywhere north of Stanmore, as far as I'm concerned).

The Bandit was a bit of a pain in Central London, mainly down to the carburation having a fit of the stutters anywhere below 7500rpm! I soon adapted my riding style to suit, screaming the motor to the limit the time, so pissed with the bike and the weather that I didn't give a damn if it all went west in a big way!

The cagers had all gone thoroughly mad! They just didn't want to give an inch and sometimes went out of their way to push me into the gutter or utter oblivion. True, the way the degutted exhaust snarled like an aeroplane aborting take-off might've had something to do with their angst. The Bandit responded reasonably to desperate muscular input and didn't even to mind my cursing fits - I'd spend half the day swearing my head off!

There was so much cut and thrust involved that took me less than 6000 miles to totally fry the front brake - as in seized calipers, pads down to the metal and warped discs! The fork seals were also shot and the steering head bearings so loose the thing would do a tank-slapper at the mildest provocation - but you could ride through it!

As that coincided with another shot front tyre, it was down to the breakers for something that would fit on and cost next to nothing... easier said that done as the vast majority of bikes are in breakers precisely because they have totalled their front ends. In the end, I rounded up the bits from three dead Suzukis, none of them 400 Bandits, but parts are often interchangeable amongst various models. I spent about eighty quid, not as bad as it sounds because it included a practically new tyre and brake pads.

As mentioned, the finish was pretty poor, with corrosion breaking out at the merest provocation. So bad that I gave up on the cleaning chores, deciding that the crud would provide a protective layer! Come March, the frame was practically down to the bare metal by the time I'd Gunked and wire-brushed the crud off! Alloy rot on the engine was on a par with what you'd expect from a sixties Jap and the wheels had lost half their paint. A rolling wreck that didn't really benefit from the lackadaisical application of Hammerite.

The carburation had deteriorated further, a reluctance to actually start, a tickover that varied from 1500 to 2500rpm and a black hole between 4500 and 7500 revs like some racetrack stroker. A cursory examination of the spark plugs revealed it was running too rich despite the almost straight through exhaust ‘system (stainless steel so it was immune to the rust). Decided that the air filter was the culprit, so tore that out and chucked it over the neighbour's back wall (surly sod, ranted and raved about being woken up by the Bandit's exhaust).

Brilliant! Or at least it ticked over at 1500 revs and put down a modicum of power below seven and a half grand. Unfortunately 10000rpm was met with a series of stutters rather than the usual power punch. Still, it was a much easier bike to pilot around the capital and fuel had improved from 40mpg to 55mpg; suggesting it was now running dangerously lean. Backed up by spark plugs that burnt out in less than 2000 miles! The first time it happened I went mad, kicked the stuffing out of the machine as I was in the middle of one of those infamous pick-up and drop runs, which stack up the real dosh.

After much muttering and mutual abuse I decided the Bandit had to go before it went bang in a big way - I'd done nearly 20000 miles by the time the summer came around again and it was beginning to make all sorts of funny noises! I'd definitely give one a proper test ride to suss if the carburation's any good - they were very variable, the later ones better than the early models. It went for a thousand notes privately, dealers had no interest, at least not when I wanted to part-ex it for something that cost less than 2000 notes.

The replacement? Yep, another mangey C90, but a one-owner from some old Joe-commuter who had done 40000 miles in five years and bought a new one. A hundred quid was all it cost, plus a new spark plug to get it running properly - I think the one I took out was original fare! 120mpg, 60mph and that wild freedom that comes from knowing it doesn't matter if the bike's written off! The cagers are out to get me again but they haven't got the reflexes for it. Sometimes the brave actually win! Sometimes! 

 

Scott Brown

Suzuki GSX1100

It was, perhaps, inevitable that I'd end up on a huge old bruiser like the GSX1100. My first big bike, a ratty old CB750 - now considered a classic - had endeared itself to me by doing 50000 miles without needing much attention. For sure, most of the chassis ended up bashed after various off-road sorties, down to the classic garden-gate handing (as in loosely hinged). I'd then traded up to a DOHC CB900, or thought I had, only to find the big engine blew its guts out 300 miles down the road. All over the road, in fact!

There followed a series of big Kawasaki fours and then a CBX750, which was a brilliant bike in its way but a bit too sophisticated for me - I like a little rawness in my motorcycles! When the Suzuki turned up in the local newspaper I tracked it down and liked what I saw. A respray and total refurbishment meant the bike looked like it'd just stepped out of the showroom. The owner had a pile of receipts and MOT's that suggested the 27000 miles was genuine. The engine sounded quiet, the acceleration made the CBX seem very tame and it even went around the bends at ridiculous angles of lean - at least from the pillion perch.

Mine for 500 notes plus the CBX750 - seems mad to have to pay more for an older bike but the Honda had done 59000 miles and was beginning to sound a little tired. My new toy was 500 plus Ibs, 100 horses of heaven on wheels. It seemed that every motorcycle dream I ever had coalesced in the GSX's presence and performance.

There were two ways to ride the big Suzuki. Conceivably, if you were close to brain dead, you could just bumble around using less than 5000 revs. This wasn't slow or even boring, the 1100cc motor having a a large excess of torque and a rather smooth running feel. The other way was to use maximum revs through the gears and see if you could push your eyeballs through the back of your head! It didn't take much effort to work out which was the preferable means of transportation.

For such a large bike, the front wheel didn't need much effort, its sixteen inch section following minor road imperfections with a fidelity that was just a bit disconcerting before I became used to it. It would also twitch when coming out of bends under heavy acceleration, the way the power seared through the back wheel causing the front end to go very light. This was all tolerable on newish Metzelers but when they got down to less than 2mm there were some quite heavy speed wobbles that had me staining my panties.

A steering damper was already fitted but the tighter it was nailed down, the harsher the wobble became at high speeds. I tried the old loose grip trick but this merely made the bars whack from stop to stop, the only way out was to ram the throttle shut and brake harshly. Momentarily, the chassis felt like it was going to break up and then it all calmed down again. The real solution was to blow a ton and a half on a decent set of tyres every 2500 miles!

I once tried running the bike with a new front tyre and worn out rear - the chassis didn't like this either, feeling as if it wanted to go in two separate directions at the same time. Nope, a set of decent rubber needed to give a semblance of stability. That done it would run up to an indicated 150mph (on degutted exhaust and airfilter) without feeling like it was about to explode into a million separate bits. It could still feel edgy, didn't like rapid changes of direction when banked over and tried to disjoint my arm sockets and neck with the wind blast, but I loved it! You could never get bored with this kind of beast!

The engine purred, growled and sang its song as if it had just been carefully run it. A wonderful mechanical rustle and only a modicum of secondary vibes when the tacho darted past the 9000rpm mark... this is a sure sign of a good motor. I tried some GSXs that didn't really want to rev and put out an awful lot of vibration for a straight four. Also no oil leaks and only moderate consumption of the lubricant between 2000 mile oil changes... The valves need to be done every 5000 miles (the four valve layout somewhat more finicky than the old two-valves in the GS series) but the carbs didn't seem to need any attention. The camchain tensioner was, thankfully, automatic and I never even thought about touching it. Over the past 11000 miles the engine, as expected, has been totally reliable.

So have the electrics. This might surprise some but then the bike's been rewired, fitted with some black boxes off a CBX750 and had the alternator rewound all done by the past owner who seems to have been some kind of fanatic. And more power to his elbow. I did have the battery die a death after about 7000 miles but I think this was just old age as it looked pretty ropey. All the cut-out switches have been taken out of the circuit, so they may've been troublesome in the past. The rest of the switches lacked feedback and it was dead easy to turn the lights out by mistake when wearing heavy gloves. Something I eventually became used to.

Apart from the tyres, I also had to spend out on swinging arm bearings, a couple of chains, front wheel bearings, front brake pads (about 3000 miles!) and fit a secondhand aftermarket rear suspension unit. When the OE shock blew its seals and lost all its damping, handling wasn't a pretty sight, sick bucket status rapidly gained!

Apart from blasting everywhere on the throttle at ten-tenths the GSX also has a serious side. It was, in many ways, an ideal cruiser able to sit at anywhere between 90 and 120mph in top gear, still with a huge wad of acceleration in hand; perfect harmony between rider and machine found. The only major hassle, if I tried to tum my head backwards to suss if any plod were about to descend, the wind would try to whip my head off my shoulders and the lid rode up so that when I snapped back frontwards I could barely see where I was going. By then, the mirrors were useless, about the only place that the secondary vibes had any real effect.

The first I knew about the plod was their quaint siren bellowing in my ears. Whack the throttle open, try to outrun the bastards. Not amused, judging by the expressions on their faces when I finally pulled over. A whole list of major offences was thrown my way, not just a ban but a probable prison sentence - don't know what the old owner thought, I gave his name having forgotten to fill in the registration document! The other altemative is to have some false plates made up. I was pulled three times, tickets in the 130 to 150mph range and they still haven't sussed what's going down! The GSX, alas, doesn't have the balls to outdrag the motorway plod - a great disappointment.

That's about the only area where the machine has let me down. It really is a dream to own and ride. The handling won't be to some tastes but I'm used to its quick turning front and edgy rear end - when you know it's not going to actually kill you it doesn't stand in the way of the fun! The motor's ballistic and ever so tough without the complexity of modern water-cooled mills. Get one while there's still good stuff out there.

JL

Kawasaki KZ1000R

There were so many cheap imports around that I was spoilt for choice. The KZ1000R was so immaculate that I couldn't believe it had done the 19500 miles that showed on the clock. The North London dealer took one look at my beaming face and demanded that I take a test ride. On the pillion... one of the mechanics gave me a nasty grin, rubbed his hands in glee and leapt on board. He used all the four cylinders 105 horses to ride madly through the London traffic. It was pretty obvious that there wasn't much wrong with the engine!

The dealer wouldn't budge on the 1700 note sticker price, muttering something about it being a winter sale and I could expect to pay much more come April. He agreed to fit a new set of Avons, tax it for a year and give me a fresh MOT certificate. The 1983 machine was soon in my Hounslow garage. At 510lbs, with steering set up for high speed stability (a concept Kawasaki was just beginning to grasp back then, given the highway machinations of the Z1 and subsequent Z's) the R wasn't exactly easy to throw about London traffic,

It only really began to come together once past 7000 revs. The engine took on a spine chilling howl and the bike bolted forwards fast enough to almost break my wrists off. The speed tightened up the chassis and made it easier to manoeuvre, though things began to happen so rapidly that I was, ultimately, thankful for the triple discs. They were running Ferodo pads that could take the wheels right up to the point of locking, easily up to modem specs, though three fingers needed.

Top speed was around the 140mph mark. Beyond 120mph the bike became very uncivilized... secondary vibes buzzed the whole chassis, especially my feet, and the suspension, despite being pretty stiff, began to break down, letting the bike weave quite heavily. Hitting a ridge running at an angle across the road caused the bars to flutter alarmingly, the whole chassis going into a 130mph waltz. I slammed the throttle shut, totally panicked out of my brain, only to find that the whole bike was trying to break up under me. Only when the speedo clicked back down to 110mph did it come back on line. If the road hadn't been relatively deserted, I'm sure I would have hit something, so huge was the amount of space taken up by the madly oscillating bike.

I went over the bike looking for some sign of chassis weakness. The tyre pressures were spot on, varying them didn't help. Couldn't find any play in any of the chassis bearings. The shocks and forks were the prime suspects. Decided a fork brace out front and a pair of HD R and Rs out the back would sort it. The fork brace gave a definite improvement to directional stability and it was OK up to 125mph, with the same edginess thereafter.

The shocks made all the toad bumps that much more apparent but weren't much of an improvement over the stockers. In fact, I went back to the latter as they gave my backside an easier time. The forks look very spindly for such a large brute but I was so impressed with the stock brakes that I didn't want to do the obvious - fit a whole new front end.

Below seven grand the motor ran fine but didn't really lay down an excess of power this made it quite easy to ride on winter roads. Corrosion attacked the wheels and exhaust system but otherwise the finish survived the worst London rain and snow could throw at it. Just a bit frustrating to have to restrain my right wrist.

Ridden thus, the bike turned in 55mpg against a more normal 40-45mpg. Maintenance was mostly frequent oil changes - every 750 miles during slow town riding because the lubricant emulsified and turned white. The engine demanded a hard throttle workout to clear out its guts but do that on a wet road and the wild power at seven grand would have the back tyre fishtailing madly!

After about 6000 miles starting and low speed running went badly awry but this was nothing more than the carbs finally going out of balance. The clutch's rumbling sounded like the main bearings were on the way out but that also cleared up when the carbs were balanced. The valve clearances were checked at 10000 miles but were still spot on; haven't bothered looking at them since. The one thing to check out, that none of the rubber, on which the black boxes are mounted, has gone hard - if they have, the electrics vibrate to an early and very expensive death!

Spring, summer and autumn went by in haze of speed and good times, the Kawasaki running like clockwork and burning the rhythm of searing acceleration deep into my mind! I got to the point where I was quite happy skewering the bike through the bends on the edge of the exhaust system and really throwing it about like you would a 125.

I had several near misses when the excessive mass bit back but I hung on and mastered the beast! The effective limit of a 125mph top speed didn't really do any harm, as this was also a cruising speed which could be held without too much arm or neck strain. Road conditions don't really encourage high speed riding in the UK, not to mention the pointy headed ones! The bike was ridden both as a high speed commuter and as a fast tourer, taking just about everything I could throw at it.

Even a shunt with a Metro didn't really harm the Kawasaki. I hit it at an angle at about 20mph, the glancing blow tearing quite deeply into the side of the auto. The front guard was cracked and one of the indicators left in a thousand pieces. I'd charged through a gap only to find the cage veering into my path and tried to twist the Kawasaki into a too small space between cars on the other side. Nearly got away with it! The Metro's driver was some old dear who promptly burst into tears when she clocked the state of her car. You can guess who the peds wanted to lynch, the ancient leather jacket and torn jeans hardly helping my cause!

It was actually pretty surprising the amount of madness I could get away with on such a heavy, slow turning old brute of a motorcycle. The sensible riding position helped things along, I always felt relaxed and yet alert with none of the nagging pains present when riding the replicas. I've done some 1000 mile days on the R without ending up anywhere near crippled. Takes a bit of getting used to, needs some muscle and a strong set of balls to ride right but nevertheless a brilliant buy!

Tony Arlington

Yamaha TR1

An ode to insanity, came to mind when I bought the early eighties 981cc V-twin. As someone who'd majored in replicas for the past few years buying what the UMG likes to term a proper motorcycle might seem a bit strange. But sudden loss of job meant either the CBR900 had to go or the house would be confiscated by the bank. Still, the choice was a very close run thing, indeed!

Reality was 70 ponies and 490Ibs of real iron. In fact, the TR1's power peaked at 6500rpm, a point at which the CBR was just beginning to become interesting! First impressions were of a rattly, vibratory, motor, a chassis that was about as sophisticated in feel as your average tractor, and, er, an amazingly comfortable perch. A few years on the replica had made me forget just how comfortable were normal motorcycles when properly rendered.

Everything on the Yamaha required extra effort. There was no point pissing around with delicate inputs, the old dear would just shrug them off and carry on as before - whether trying to change direction, brake or work my way through the gearbox. Muscle and force definitely needed.

After adapting to this, the TR1 was a relatively easy bike to ride. Much of my time was spent in heavy city traffic where I didn't really miss the Honda's manic acceleration - honest! The 29000 mile engine rumbled and grumbled away but delivered plenty of low rev torque and power. The gear change needed a hefty boot but was actually more precise and definite than the CBRs, with none of the latter's false neutrals - mind, the Honda had done more than 53000 miles of high speed riding.

After the ultra-quick turning 900, the Yamaha was very stately in feel, needing a lot of effort on the flat bars. The engine was mounted exceptionally low for a Japanese machine but the forks were quite kicked out and the wheelbase long. Thus the bike never felt entirely stable yet didn't have the flightiness of a replica’s front wheel.

The bike didn't react to the idea of excessive speed very well. Beyond 80mph the front forks went all spongy and the rear shock lost its composure. The bike wallowed along rather than weaved or wobbled, only really feeling like it was going to die a death when a large bump or hole was hit. The big but scrawny Taiwanese tyres weren't sure if they were coming or going, and wet weather could turn it all quite frightening!

The mono-track back end promised some kind of passing modernity but a few miles showed that its bearings were shot. This was revealed when the bike went into an alarming speed wobble just as I pushed the reluctant engine past the ton. The engine's used as a major part of the spine frame, always communicating some of the combustion process to the rider, turning rough once past 6000rpm. They must've been thinking about Vincents when they laid down the plans for the chassis.

The chassis rigidity fought with the suspension's looseness, only won out after I'd almost hit the side of a car! Panic slowly abated, the stress on the chassis so warping the bearings that it'd become a rolling deathtrap even at abysmal speeds. So bad that those nice guys at the AA had to be summoned!

The first problem with the swinging arm was actually getting at it, had to take the exhaust off, which revealed an excess of rust on the inside of the silencers. I had visions of them falling apart as I rode along, the venerable V-twin already making a racket that put to shame the average sixties British twin. The downpipes weren't too bad, so the usual bodge of a couple of universal cans was employed - but only after cutting up an intermediate couple of tubes (from an old Suzuki GT500 exhaust) to take into account the run of the existing system. Carburation was barely affected by this affrontery!

Back to the swinging arm. The actual spindle popped out without too much hassle but the top bearing had corroded in and was only rudely ejected after putting the arm into an hydraulic press (thank you, brother!). The rear shock was taken to the breakers where a slightly longer match was found, that had much firmer springing.

As I'd found the front disc totally wimpy I had a look around for a potential front end replacement, ending up with stuff meant for a CB1000N! Fitting it all back together blew most of a weekend, differences in the fork yoke sizes had me scratching my head until brother came to the rescue with some sleeves and a new top yoke! Very useful having a close relation with a workshop!

With the back end slightly raised and a lower front end, geometry was moved in a more sporting, quicker turning direction whilst the suspension felt absolutely rock solid. In fact, the front end flopped around so uselessly on its stock springing that the TR1 only ever had a vague approximation to the designer's intended steering geometry. 

I felt much more at home on the transformed TR1, especially enjoying the new found braking forces - just a gentle caress with one finger had the front tyre screaming for mercy! As might be imagined, though, there was now a massive mismatch between the back Taiwanese condom reject and the front, ultra sticky Metz! However, as the latter only had 500 miles life left it in, an ultimate compromise was found in a slightly used pair of Avons.

Having sorted out the chassis to my liking, I then had to contend with a motor that kept cutting out. I'd inadvertently loosened a connector in the main ignition circuit - I think I tore about a third of my hair out before I sussed it! This era of Yamaha had dodgy cut-out switches but they had all been taken out of the circuit and even the starter motor had been modded to avoid its well known tendency towards self-destruction.

That wasn't the only electrical problem | had. A little way down the line, the battery began to falter. I dug it out, finding half the plates full of white crap. The breaker was visited and a likely candidate found. This popped in OK but only lasted a couple of days, most of the acid burned off, the plates warped. Digging into the ancient electrics I found a non-standard rectifier/ regulator and some weird wiring. Bore no relationship to the wiring diagram in the workshop manual.

It's a waste of time asking breakers for TR1 parts, they usually assume it's some old Triumph car! MCN turned up a guy who was breaking one... I was the first one to phone up after the ad had been in for two weeks. His seized motor was in a million bits but the rest of the chassis was intact. I could have the lot for a hundred quid. Gor, that's cheap, thought I. It wasn't, the chassis had almost completely merged with the greenery on his garden wall. In the end, I agreed to take it away for free! Luckily, the black boxes had been thrown into the crate with the engine bits and they worked OK after I sussed the wiring out!

Engine maintenance wasn't much of a chore. Every 1000 miles, or so, fiddle with the carbs, adjust the valves and change the engine oil. The top ends are similar to that on an SR500 but seem longer-lived, tend to go from rocker demise around the 50000 mile mark. Crankshaft life depends on frequency of oil changes, neglect a few of those it'd soon be in trouble. TR1 engines can be surprisingly rugged and long-lived, also full of character!

With everything set up nicely, I could eke out a gallon of fuel for more than sixty miles, although it needed half a pint of oil every week, or around the 200 mile mark - didn't dribble so it must've just been down to the well worn clearances in the cylinder. The bike's distaste for high speed cruising, as in anything over 90mph, was shown by fuel no better than the CBR around 35mpg!

Despite being naked, the TR was pretty comfortable up to 90mph, someone had thought about the relationship between bars and pegs (not that common back in the early eighties) and the seat/tank interface suited my rather squat body. After about seven months a brief blast on a CBR600 reminded me what I was missing - power, sophistication and ease of use. Leaping back on to the TR1, the poor old thing felt so agricultural that | felt sure it was going to fall apart under me. A couple of hours was all it took for the ruminations to fade into the background.

After about eighteen months, more than 25000 miles, the bike and I have become firm friends. It's very dependable, very useable (especially after the suspension mods) and quite cheap to run - tyres, for instance, last two to three times as long as the CBR. Alas, once the high rev, outrageous power and totally berserk speeds of a modem Jap replica gets in the blood it's hard to forget - with improving finances, I'm going to be able to afford an R1 soon. But the TR1 will remain as my second bike, winter commuter.

John Williams

Yamaha XS500

Most XS500s in the UK seem to be rolling wrecks. A pleasant surprise, then, to find one that was both whole and actually shone with repressed vigour! Not surprisingly, it was an import - from Japan rather than the States. The motor’s the main point of conjecture on this bike. A vertical twin with pistons moving up and down alternatively, DOHC's, eight valves and an infamous chain driven balancer system that must've inspired the Superdream's designers. This was a 1974 model, so very advanced for the day. Not their first vertical twin design - the famous XS650 made their name in the genre, although the TX750 had much more in common with the 500.

The XS500's mill has a bit of a reputation for self destruction, though a few past UMG tales indicated that it wasn't a total turkey; its 50 horses and agile chassis making for a moderately useful tool. The import had only 8500 miles on the clock, though the dealer refrained from suggesting that it was owned solely by a little old Japanese lady. The two grand price tag was a bit of a laugh, and I didn't really believe his protestations that it was a coming classic. Cash was mentioned and after some hard haggling I could have it for 1400 notes if I was willing to forgo the guarantee.

A quick blast had confirmed that the motor had plenty of poke, that the chassis still tracked true and that the engine noises, though harsh, didn't sound terminal. The deal was done there and then, I rode home as happy as a vicar in a bordello. A quick bit of speed testing revealed a top speed of 108mph, which no amount of further thrashing bettered. Acceleration was vivid with the rev counter in the 6000 to 10000 sector but below those revs the engine felt very unhappy. A combination of whirring balancer chain and the off-beat nature of the engine pulses. The mill smoothed out nicely as the power came in, though at the top end of the rev range it began to thrum through the machine a bit.

Some more on the road experimentation revealed that fuel was a poor 45mpg, the drive chain - admittedly old - needed a daily tweak and there was a disturbing tendency for the motor to clatter to a halt at tickover revs and then refuse to catch for a few desperate minutes. At this point I did the decent thing, or attempted to. Yep, the cheap engine alloy was in full rot mode. I found this out when I went to do something as simple as change the spark plugs, which had corrosion welded themselves into the cylinder head. The latter is a vastly complex piece of work, renown for burning out valves and spewing out oil once things go out of adjustment.

I was tempted to give the plug-wrench a hefty tap with my hammer, but the thought of the plugs breaking in half stopped me. After some muttering, half a can of WD40 was emptied over the plugs and left overnight. They still didn't want to budge so a short sharp tap was applied. The left-hand one twirled out as if nothing in the world was wrong but the other one creaked and groaned all the way out, taking some of the head's thread with it. The plugs looked ancient, original fare. A dab of Araldite was added on the upper thread of one of the new plugs to compensate for the depleted thread in the head. Great care needed on the plug-wrench.

The new plugs all but transformed the engine. Easier starting, better sub-6000rpm running and no more cutting out. That left me free to concentrate on the chassis. A single front disc and rear SLS drum didn't add up to major stopping, not helped along by the pads being Jap crap that were glazed with age. Fortunately, the disc and caliper were identical to early XS650s stuff, meaning parts were actually available in the UK. Even with a couple of EBC pads the braking wasn't exactly vicious but at least I had a reasonable idea of what was going to happen. Engine braking, by the way, made the motor clatter like it was falling apart.

The suspension was original fare. The forks looked very similar to the XS650's, though the 500 weighs a lot less than that venerable twin. Both the forks and shocks were weak on the springing and had little damping. A used pair of Konis were adapted to fit the back end and some stiff springs added to the front forks. That let the conventional tubular chassis do its business without the previous falling apart at speed feel. There was still a mild weave at 90mph plus speeds, traced to a slight amount of play in the swinging arm but I could live with that - given the state of most of the metal it was likely the spindle was seized in, the only way to get it out involving its destruction!

Though the general finish wasn't far off showroom condition the approach of autumn rains heralded an outburst of corrosion, the machine rotting from the inside out. Before I could deal with that the clutch began to play up. The gear change itself had always been wonderfully slick, reflecting the bike's minimal mileage and Yamaha's expertise in this area. However, with the clutch slipping at high revs and rattling at low rpm, the change became quite stiff and relatively easy to put into a false neutral. I had little choice but to whip the engine cover off. Anyone who's played with old Jap alloy will know that nothing's that easy...

I actually had to drill a couple of the corroded screws out! A first for me, the old hammer and chisel routine had always sufficed in the past even when the impact driver failed. I didn't completely ruin any threads but what should've taken half an hour actually ended up consuming a whole weekend. All that effort was rewarded with the realisation that the clutch's bearing was shot, which had in turn done for the plates! It took two weeks of phone calls to locate someone who had broken an XS500 - the reward was a good clutch unit for a fiver! When you can find them, parts are ridiculously cheap because there are so few XS500s left rolling on the road.

As to the chassis, by the time winter had turned to spring there wasn't much paint left on the frame and even the tank was bruised with rust! An amazingly rapid degradation, which I patched up without taking the bike tight down to its component parts. On the good side, the valves never needed any adjustment, the carbs required a balance once and the engine thrived on frequent, 1000 mile, oil changes. The clock was reading 14400 miles by the time March turned into April and the roads were ready for some serious mileage.

At this point, the amazingly uncomfortable seat decided to fall apart and the front bars started acting weirdly. The latter down to the front wheel bearings dying a death. Easy enough to replace via the bearing factors but a pain nevertheless, making me realise I was on a bike that was self-destructing as I rode it along. The usual complaints and praise about XS500s - poor engine life and good chassis - appeared reversed on my particular example.

By 16000 miles I decided enough was enough and it was time to get shot of the bike whilst there was still a whole machine left to sell. 1200 notes in the advert, I was happy enough to settle for 900 quid. The new owner had a garage full of defunct XSs. No accounting for love, is there? 

Duncan Hughes

Ducati 750SS

 

That the local hardcase was the owner of the Ducati says it all. That he was moving on to a 996, merely a confirmation that crime does pay. Having witnessed him beat the shit out of some Casanova type who'd tried to nick his girlfriend, I wasn't going to make any silly offers. Despite his dubious status, the Duke was immaculate - I often saw him shooting around on a pushbike, much harder to trace when doing deals! No test ride allowed but a blast on the pillion followed. The pinprick pupils should've warned me that he was on something serious; he either didn't give a damn about his future or was convinced that he was a master of the universe; either way, I'd never been so frightened before in my life...

The ton through slow moving traffic, going against the traffic lights and doing a ninety degree skid to avoid being mashed by a Transit were a few of the more minor misdemeanours before | decided to hold on tight and close my eyes! Back on solid ground, I looked the V-twin motor over - ticked over regularly, no untoward engine noises and no oil leakage or smoke. The clock read 11000 miles and he even had service receipts to back it up. Three and half grand in used fifties. A bargain, I decided!

Things that would've been immediately obvious on a brief test ride - the clutch was incredibly heavy and jerky, the gearchange nearly tore my trainer shod foot apart and the engine didn't really want to run below 3000 revs. On the plus side, crack open the throttle hard, the exhaust would bellow and the motor snarl mechanically, the whole plot shooting up the road as the power was laid down viciously; I could almost feel the chain and back tyre disintegrating!

I was expecting some kind of miraculous stability, having only owned Jap crap in the past, but the tyres seemed alive with a life of their own and the suspension let through lots of minor bumps and ripples. Didn't need much effort to control, though my wrists were soon aching (from both the riding position and the heaviness of the controls). After a while, I realised the bike was giving back an exceptional amount of feedback and that it did, indeed, stay on line with a great deal of tenacity.

The motor didn't exactly vibrate but it never faded into the background, always giving out a rather raw feel of fighting its way through the combustion process. Used to relatively sophisticated Japanese fours, it took a couple of months before I really adapted to the Ducati, and that included some pretty heavy work-outs to improve my upper body strength - the only way I could find to take the SS for more than half an hour at a time. I wasn't exactly a wimp to start out with, either!

At about 14000 miles, the front exhaust pipe started to crack up! This led to a front cylinder that ran like some vintage charmer, messing up the power delivery and making the bike bounce along like an out of control tank! Whatever faults the Jap bikes have, at least there's usually a source of cheap spares in the breakers. Not so with the Ducati, some wally wanted more than a ton for a new front downpipe! The local breaker agreed to point his welding gun at the pipe for some drinking money (20 sovs, you should see his beer gut!), which merely left me with a pipe with a large hole in it! For another 20 sovs, he agreed to weld in another bit of pipe. Don't know if he did it deliberately or if it was down to crap Italian steel.

The carburation wasn't entirely happy with this minor mod to the exit path of the exhaust gas. The disinclination to run cleanly below 3000rpm was intensified and there was a slight stutter at 5000 revs. Could be said to give the bike even more character, I suppose, but it didn't really need any extra idiosyncrasies. Top speed was a gut churning 135mph, hard acceleration available up to around 120mph, but you had to get your head right down in the clocks to really go for it! Fuel was usually around 50mpg, but just meandering along at a relaxed 4500-5000rpm tumed in 60mpg until the wrist ache unnerved me! I know, if I wanted to get all laid back and upright rather than uptight I should've gone for a Monster; the 750SS's stylish lines had got into on my imagination.

The next little spot of trouble came at 15500 miles. The clutch began to rattle in a grim way - a perennial Ducati weakness! The thing had always given the impression of wanting break up into a million pieces and I wasn't surprised to learn that the drum's bearings were shot. A second hand unit was fitted - lo and behold, the clutch was much lighter and less jerky, though now the primary drive gears whined away happily and the ratios went in with a bang if I didn't get the change dead right.
 
I had the impression that the tolerances in the engine could go every which way and a squad of Italian gnomes were employed to assemble the myriad components so that they approximated to the engineering drawings. Didn't fit in with the usual UMG's reader's philosophy of hitting recalcitrant parts with a large hammer.

A fairly happy summer went by in a daze of speed, tarmac and even squealing babes (they like the looks and the saddle/vibes leave them feeling all raw and randy), the Ducati hammering up the miles with nothing much more than oil, fuel and the odd maintenance session (the valves left alone; too complex). By 28500 miles there was a mild knocking noise from the bottom of the engine at low revs. Application of screwdriver to engine and ear to the soft end of the tool revealed that the main bearings were likely to disintegrate any time soon! I did learn later that putting Halford's recycled engine oil in the mill every 1500 miles wasn't the brightest of ideas but I'd always got away with it on my Japanese iron.

The Duke was traded for a very nice R1 at a slight loss but it was smiles all the way to the nearest bit of empty road and wham, bang, thank you, mam, I was back in glorious Nippon-land. I could conclude that the Duke was a bag of old nails with a flash surface style but I don't want the original owner, ever so nice chap that he is, paying me a visit in the dark hours. So? So, the SS was an interesting experience that most bikers should go through at least once, just to learn how lucky they are with the plethora of high tech Jap machines on offer... I just heard that the 996 is up for grabs, might just wander along for a test ride!
 
Alex Grace

Moto Guzzi California

Never say die, or something like that. This big old Guzzi was up for grabs. Only 19000 miles - just run in according to Guzzi California enthusiasts. Brutal V-twin motor that shook and rumbled in the frame. Pretty friendly and laid back once under way. Mind, you had to be used to the shaft's lurch and the stately feel to the handling. My apprenticeship on a series of nearly dead. V50's proved useful! Twist grip and clutch lever mildly modded so you didn't have to be a Stallone to control the shining cruiser.

Much mumbling over the cost followed. Outrageous optimism versus magnificent miserliness, resulting in 1900 notes exchanging hands. A bargain, I'm told by those in the know, but it seemed quite expensive... I was used to spending a couple of hundred quid on hacks and running them for a year or so. The wife, quite taken by the machine's looks, said it was time I treated myself. We decided to share one car rather than tun two, more than covered the cost of the Guzzi.

Within a week I was beginning to wonder what I'd let myself in for. I knew it would take a little getting used to, was prepared for that - not a big problem! No, the way the battery fell apart annoyed. Then finding that the charging circuit was giving out 30 volts amused me no end! The only thing to do was a complete rewire and fitment of second hand parts.

It ought to be noted that the headlamp wasn't too brilliant but I was loathe to risk overloading the circuit with something more powerful. That was the least of my worries, though. A long weekend, with wifey out back, was used to test the bike's long distance cruising abilities - up one side of the country, back down the other, though we didn't venture into Scotland. The Guzzi rumbled away to itself, feeling best in the 70 to 80mph range, though on motorways this was likely to leave us as victims of road rage. Even 70mph gave my arm and neck muscles an unwanted workout, but the nearest and dearest seemed quite content on the relatively plush pillion - she still moans about a misspent youth on a Triumph Speed Twin!

The Guzzi sat comfortably on the road, much better than most machines of its ilk, its sporting heritage shining through in the relative tautness of its suspension and usefulness of its steering geometry. Not a lot of effort needed to get it where I wanted it to go - either in town, on the motorway or trundling through the more snaky A-road bends. A bit misplaced on bumpy B-roads, the shaft drive lurch trying to throw the machine in the nearest ditch, though a manful tug on the tiller-like bars always pulled us back on line.

The first symptom of a much deeper malaise came as stuttering below 3000 revs. Felt just like the fuel was running out, but cracking open the throttle cleared it up, so that couldn't have been the problem. Just as we'd reached the furthest point from home, within sniffing distance of the Scottish Lowlands, the ignition gave up the ghost completely! In the middle of nowhere. My initial concern was, of course, for the engine internals but this was soon displaced by the wife going all hysterical, full of visions of us dying in the middle of the deserted countryside. Truth to tell, I wasn't entirely sure where I was, having been sidetracked down the B-roads by a traffic jam!

I told her it was probably just the spark plugs needing a clean, not really believing it. Luckily, they are easy to pull out! Succeeded in looking like I knew what I was doing until I asked for her nail-file to clean up the contacts! Now her energies were spent on the act of vandalism involved in ruining an absolutely fine nail file. No pleasing some people. After a bit more pulling and shoving of various electrical components, shaking the tank between my knees, and half a dozen fairly desperate prayers, I attacked the starter with near desperation! The big bugger fired up immediately, sounding very healthy. The wife suddenly convinced that I was a hero!

This happened several more times during the journey. I thought a new set of spark plugs would fix it, but no difference. I then sussed that maybe something was overheating and needed time to cool down! I was right on the ball, only problem was that there was a lot of things to chose from as the culprit. Intermittent faults really nasty because they invariably disappear when a professional tries to suss them. Given the previous electrical problems I decided it must be something in the ignition circuit. New(ish) coils and HT leads eventually solved it. But that wasn't much help on my around Britain tour and the wife reckoned I'd bought a pig in a poke, conveniently forgetting the fact that she had encouraged the purchase.

No sooner had I solved the ignition problem than the universal joints started rumbling - they are infamous for going at inconvenient moments! In my case, this was on the M1 with 70 miles to go to get back to base, fortunately without anyone to nag me from the pillion! My arrival home was foreshadowed by a metal band effect and a shaft drive housing that was a curious molten colour, much more effective in the dark than the somewhat lackadaisical rear light. There didn't seem to be any oil left in the shaft - whether this was a result or cause of the problem I haven't got a clue.

Needless to say, at this point I didn't feel like lavishing a surfeit of dosh on the moving disaster area, so stuff from a breaker was acquired. The Cali there was mashed from the front end, making a mockery of the feel of being a substantial piece of iron - the front wheel broken, distorted and embedded in the cracked engine cases! Some girlie had ridden into a bus at 60mph - I mean, how do you miss a bus? Anyway, a bit of brute force had the old girl back to trawling around, though the gearbox was even worse than before and would actually jump out of second gear. Yes, Guzzi valves do float despite (or because of) the antiquated pushrod design.

Which neatly brings us to another nasty maintenance. Simple enough, you could almost do the valve clearances at the traffic lights... no, my main concern was with the 1000 mile need to do the valves and carbs - I mean, on a sixties Honda I would expect that, but on such a modern machine? Oh well, it cost nothing and could be written off as part of the bonding process between man and machine. Fresh oil was also needed at this mileage, though I never did the oil filter.
 

Neglect any of this, the bike would become very recalcitrant, just like the wifey if she didn't have her weekly orgasm (old women take about an hour before they come!). Its main revenge was stalling dead just before the lights changed, went with a backside dislocating lurch! Oh, the cagers had a fine old time as it was very reluctant to fire on the starter, though I'm sure the artillery barrage of backfires must've kept them at bay!

Good points - tyres didn't seem to wear, the repaired shaft drive was maintenance free and the overall feel of the mammoth was very relaxed and laid back, no great hassles if you wanted to motor along at a moderate pace, which at my age I actually quite enjoyed. Economy was shockingly lacking - 35-40mpg! Comfort was good at town speeds, acceptable up to 60mph but beyond that arm and neck stretch were a bit too excessive and I never really adapted to the riding position. No doubt, those more closely related to the orangutan wouldn't have any problems,

The final hassle, after about 7000 miles of mixed riding, was the gearbox seizing up in third gear. True, the motor had enough torque to trundle off in this ratio but it didn't like holding a steady speed and the vibes weren't exactly intoxicating. I went back to the breaker who supplied the UJs and he was quite keen to do the work. His exclamation that he had never worked on a big Guzzi engine before gave pause for thought, but in line with his cheap charges.

The rebuilt machine worked, after a fashion, but even the handling seemed a little odd, as if he'd force-fitted the motor back into the frame with the nearest lump-hammer. Hmmm. The Guzzi was traded for a big Harley (for more than I bought it), which is yet another tale of tears! Another day, it's Prozac time! 

 

Andy Gray