Tuesday 8 September 2020

Loose Lines [Issue 91, Feb/March 1991]

Having managed to almost snap off my left arm and write off an eye - in circumstances so embarrassing I ain't got any intention of revealing them here - you may well find that this issue - this column in particular - is even more incoherent than usual: normal service will resume ASAP. Or something like that. Not being totally suicidal (yet) I'm effectively wandering around on foot with the odd amusing diversion on public transport - and if you ever saw a wretched looking chap muttering obscenities at a bus stop that was probably I. ‘Course, you meet the nicest people on the buses! Some of them in very short skirts despite the weather.
 

The only motorcyclists that I know likely to give me a lift have a total death wish - and knowing them I can well understand why they want to end it all! - which makes the pillion perch as attractive as a day job in one of the more fey motorcycle glossies... and, anyway, there's a long list of acquaintances who want to get revenge on me for the way I introduced them to motorcycling via the pillion perch. What goes around, comes around, though a couple of them even ascended the great heights of contributing to the UMG!

It's just as well that, these days, the vast majority of UMG contributions come in via email, removing the tedious need to type them in and destroy what is left of my eyesight trying to decipher illegible scrawl; copy and paste taking mere seconds rather than hours. I say just as well as my clutch hand is fucked at the moment and although my typing speed would never secure me proper employment (thank god!), trying to use merely my right hand is as annoying and unlikely as trying to start an old Brit single on a cold day just wearing trainers (not that I possess any - trainers or old Brit singles) with my left leg.

Having managed to drop my back-up hard drive on the floor and smashed the side of my portable computer if any of this drivel actually reaches print it will be a minor miracle. I put it down to the heart of darkness and black magic, gone wrong; if it had gone right I would've been a goner. As I'm still here I'll have to keep going, won't I? If I write what I wanted to here, right now, this magazine would cease to exist, and as we don't won't that - do we???? - I won't. Put it this way, I'm being attacked on all fronts and have about a fifty-fifty chance of either getting way ahead of the game or going down the tubes. When I say going down the tubes, I mean the UMG going down - I can exist quite happily without it!

But who gives a fuck, there's always tomorrow and some new kicks. I'm in one of those moods when the temptation to blow a load of dosh on some hyperbike is high, the fact that I can, at the moment, but barely swing a leg over one of the bastards neither here nor there. Every now and again | get one of these obsessions - sometimes for replicas, sometimes for British bikes (just to show how silly things can get), though I really should put my money where my mouth is and build the ultimate hack but that, alas, would require some kind of permanent abode and the boredom of staying in one location for more than a month just can't be taken, these days!

Rationality does usually catch up with me - the replicas too fast and the UK police totally over the top - ridiculous speed limits even on back roads usually deserted of traffic (except for loitering plod). Mad speed and nowhere to enjoy it doesn't add up to much but what the hell, can always throw mud over the numberplate or something. British bikes’ self destructive nature have been chronicled at length and unless you buy a re-engineered example from someone you can trust merely an expensive way into an ongoing nightmare; as I don't know anyone in the motorcycle game that I can trust that’s right out of court.

In between these two extremes of insane power and butch practicality there are hundreds of options but most I've tasted already and become, if not bored, at least not willing to make the effort to spend a lot of money and time buying something a month or so down the line I'm just going to want to get shot of. We are talking kicks here, commuting to work takes the form of getting out of bed at an unlikely hour and crossing the room to my desk, so I should just be taking the maximum adrenaline buzz and damning the consequences.

But living in a city, my little Yamaha RXZ (a Thai manufactured 133cc air-cooled stroker, circa 25hp and 250Ibs - though now no longer manufactured) proves able to whizz-bang through tiny gaps at unlikely velocities, has sufficient punch to wake up the nervous system and costs so little to run that it's probably cheaper than a C90 with none of that little bugger's handling or gearbox truculence. And it's been reliable for tens of thousands of miles despite minimal maintenance (some kind soul pointed out to me that I run the UMG in exactly the same way as I run my motorcycles - in total neglect model).

Until my left arm recovers I can't even buzz around on the RXZ - well, I can, but the kangaroo hops aren't a pretty sight and I have to keep swinging my head from side to side to account for the blind spot produced by the bandage! My advice, don't stare because you'll probably ride into something! 

Bill Fowler

 

 

Monday 7 September 2020

Yamaha XJ650

Bring on the madmen. Weird shit XJ650. The owner was the local nutter, an RD400 fanatic. But the XJ650 had barely turned a wheel. 1983 machine, 11000 miles, nicely burnished with age. RD riders don't take kindly to shaft drive four stroke fours. This guy had done the odd tour but barely touched the surface of the bike's abilities. He wanted a grand for the ten year old machine and I wasn't going to argue with him, was I?

70 horses, 450Ibs, 653cc, DOHC's, eight valves, nice build quality plus conventional suspension and frame. The shaft drive the only surprising element of the compact machine that had a perfectly natural riding position. Power delivery far from frightening. I was at home right away. Nice stately, secure feel from the chassis, slow turning but secure nineteen inch front wheel.

Twin front discs on the remote side. SLS drum to the rear an on/off device. 4-2 exhaust roared away, suggesting the baffles blown or removed. The clutch was heavy and the gearbox crunchy. The shaft drive fluttered a bit when I made a change. Universal joints on the way out? Nah, just naff engineering. It cleared up as speed increased and I got a handle on the clutch/gearchange co-ordination.

The first spot of rain fell. The clouds let loose in anger. I smiled smugly, already fully togged up in the waterproof gear. The front guard designed to throw up an excess of road spray. That soon collected around the HT leads. Stutter, stutter, stutter; a tune I didn't want to hear. The XJ tried life as a triple and a twin. Could've lived with that but not the way the power would suddenly switch on. Not nice, on greasy roads and with a direct shaft drive.

Made it back to the mansion in one piece. First step, spray with WD40. Test ride. It worked! Second step, buy a decent front mudguard to keep the rain at bay. That worked, too, WD40 no longer needed. In contrast, the rear guard was better designed, innocent pillions not sprayed by water in the wet. The bike still picked up an exceptional amount of road grime even during the mildest of trips. Made the shareholders of Gunk happy. Quick action kept the chassis in shape.

What would it do? 125mph top end. Only in favourable conditions, mostly it ran out of puff at 115mph. There was a nice slug of power between 70 and 110mph in top gear, no need to play like a racer on the box. Relaxed high(ish) speed cruising was a piece of cake. Even comfortable, despite being naked, at 95mph for an hour or two. Acceleration was on a par with a friend's CB500S up to the ton. Thereafter the four had the legs on the twin, much to the latter owner's dismay.

The XJ was quite lowly slung. Easy to dig something in on fast, bumpy bends. The first time it happened, caused a bit of a shuffle and a near heart attack. Often it felt less than its apparent mass but when something went wrong it felt rather heavier. Hard to keep under control. It didn't like to be braked going into corners. Or to have the throttle rolled off. Bit like a BMW, worked best when set up on its line and gently accelerated through the curve. A minor miracle that the mad RD rider hadn't fallen off.

The front discs were quite nasty. Not lacking in power, as such, but operating in an apparently random manner! They defined wet weather lag despite running EBC pads and not being noticeably scored. The brake fluid was an odd colour and viscosity. I only found out after drilling out the bleed nipples. The calipers full of gunge, reluctant to come apart. Goodrdige hose the final part of the renovation.

Improved feel, stronger stopping but the same dangerous lag in the wet. Inconsiderate engine braking had the back wheel hopping and skipping as the shaft chumed through its bearings. The back drum was full of asbestos dust; the linings had cracks in them. Had to send the wheel off to be relined, plus new shoes.
With all that fixed the back drum became a big softy that helped me pull up safely in the wet.

The only way around the front brake hassle was to keep gently squeezing the lever to clear off the water from the solid discs. Many times I was tempted to take the Black and Decker to 'em. In the dry, they were able to squeal the tyres. Only if I took them apart for a clean every 5000 miles, or so.

The original suspension was showing signs of age. The back end had a slight ton-plus weave from shocks that lacked any discernible damping. The forks would shake coming out of bends or on fast bumpy roads. Koni shocks, used and cheap from breakers, sorted the former. Didn't touch the latter until the damping went and the steering head bearings became all loose.

At this point, it dawned on me that a whole new front end was the ideal solution. A Zephyr 1100 was deemed a possible donor bike and various breakers annoyed. Ended up with a ZR750 front end instead, which was probably better matched to the XJ. With that fitted, the braking was brilliant - twice as powerful and three times more sensitive. Handling precision was also improved but it liked to fall into slow speed corners. Maybe there was a slight difference in fork length or the increased travel upset things. Overall, well worth the ton and a half cost.

There's along tradition amongst UMG readers, just change the oil and twist the throttle. Until something goes wrong. After paying out for two top end check-ups in no real work, I decided to join in. Did an oil change every 1000 miles and a carb balance every 10000 miles! Had the valves checked every 20000 miles but they didn't need any work. Total mileage on the clock came to 79000 miles, with more to come. At that stage, time to trade-in!

If the engine was as tough as they came, the chassis was a different ball-game. Do note, that I wasn't really a throttle to the stop merchant and I did those frequent oil changes. I know people who've blown up XJs in less than 40000 miles. Mostly through total neglect of the engine. The way the chassis rots doesn't really encourage an excess of tender loving care. Not just the XJ650, also the 550 and 750 versions.

Was actually offered a couple of non-runners for less than a hundred notes each. Tempted, until close examination revealed very little that could be salvaged. The first component to die on mine was the exhaust system. By the time the baffles were completely burnt out, small holes appeared where the pipes joined up. Three hundred quid the local dealer reckoned for a new replacement. Didn't know if I should laugh or cry. Oddly, the front section of the exhaust was still in reasonable shape. Retained that, a new section of tubing cut and welded to match the old. A pair of universal cans clamped on their ends.

Many Yamahas of this era had somewhat finicky carburation. Change the exhaust system, flat spots appeared in the power output. Fortunately, these mods didn't affect the power delivery of the 650. Probably because it was mildly tuned for its capacity. Fuel was the same as always, around the 45mpg mark regardless of how the throttle was abused.

Next in line for self-destruction was the petrol tank. First evidence of this was a reluctance to rev high. Rust in the fuel line starving the motor. Kept on happening, the sides of the tank going very thin. Finding a replacement tank was a major achievement, took two months of plaintive phone calls! By the time the bike was ready to sell, that one, too, was ready to die!

Even more worrying was some deep seated rust around the steering head. Wire-brushing, primer and paint - it lasted for less than a month. This rust spread like wildfire throughout the frame. By 50000 miles I was riding around on a bike that seemed to be undergoing a metallurgical change! Only thing for it, strip right down, shot-blast and powder coat. That solved it!

By then I had to do all the chassis bearings. The cast wheels were very hefty but didn't want to release their bearings. They were also covered in a thick layer of corrosion, making me wonder how much metal was left. Not wanting to crack the wheels up, had to give them a going over with the blow-torch before doing the chisel and hammer blues. The bearings then popped out, albeit reluctantly. The wheels were also shot-blasted, painted and polished, covered in lacquer.

After all this effort, ended up with the best looking and running XJ650 in the country! That glory hid a set of electrics that was falling apart as I rode along. A complete rewire, newish switches and black boxes needed. I reckon everything would've had to be done again if the bike was going to make it around the clock. Apart from the motor, which needs frequent oil changes to survive, the long term build quality is very poor!

The used market is very variable. My bike fetched just under a grand on trade-in, which was pretty good going given its mileage. Predictably, the dealer clocked it back to 14000 miles and put it up for 1200 notes! The best bikes in the country won't cost more than a grand, you could maybe bargain that down to 750 quid. For 500 sovs, you should be able to buy a strong runner needing a little bit of tender loving care. Running rats go for less than 200 quid. Certainly possible to get lucky, give ‘em a look over. 

Dave Roach

 

Honda CBR600 vs. Kawasaki ZX-6R

Modern 600s offer the perfect compromise. More than enough power to get ya chucked in jail for excessive speeding yet running costs that aren't entirely out of the real world of yer average yob. Plenty of different Jap models available but, apart from a couple of quick blasts, most of my riding's been done on Honda and Kawasaki 600's.

It all started with one of the first Honda CBR600's. These more or less defined the breed, though the excessive plastic wasn't to many tastes I thought it a brilliant looking machine. Honda had long realised that the more extreme race replicas soon annoyed their riders with their lack of comfort, and the CBR600 had excellent ergonomics in contrast. The kind of machine you could sit on, feel instantly relaxed and ready to rock and roll. So awful are modern road conditions that no distractions can be tolerated.

This was back in 1988, the machine a year old with 9700 miles under its wheels. These models only had 80 horses and weighed about 410lbs, needed some revs to run well, but were about as good as 600's got back then. A 4-1 exhaust liberated an excess of noise and improved top speed from 140mph to 145mph, not an experience I'd willingly repeat. Not only did I have to buy ear-plugs but the suspension went all dangerous above 135mph.

Right out of the crate, the suspension was probably adequate - the glossy comics didn't complain too loudly, anyway. But a year's worth of wear, the previous owner a bit of a porker, had left them open to abuse from the larger bumps at low speeds and prone to fluttering in protest at speed even over apparently smooth roads. My favourite country lanes also turned up some handling horrors, the bars going from lock to lock when exiting bumpy bends at about 50mph.
 

Not too amusing but I soon became used to the bike and compared to my previous Z1000 it ran on rails, could be flicked about with hardly any effort and was a relaxed 120mph cruiser! Acceleration could do my vision in but I was always aware that the motor might end up wailing away - down to the notoriously slack Honda gearbox that wasn't really sorted until the last model!

The engine was one of those complex water-cooled mills that was best left alone apart from 1500 mile oil changes. The carbs needed a balance every 5000 miles or so but even when they were out the major downer was secondary vibes singing through the chassis rather than any noticeable diminution in outright performance.

These were tough motors, even the camchains could do 50000 miles. Thus, the bike stayed in my hands for four years, 67000 miles on the clock when I decided to trade in. A new camchain and tensioner at 42000 miles the only major expense. By the time the bike was traded in, top speed was down to a mere 135mph, fuel was 35mpg (compared to 45mpg when I bought the machine) and secondary vibes were particularly vile at 9000rpm.

The replacement was a nearly new 1992 CBR600. First impressions were of searing acceleration, mind numbing 155mph top speed and an ultra-precise gearbox. Handling wasn't as taut as my old one - I'd fitted a stronger shock and uprated fork springs - but it motored along superbly, making previously rough roads feel as if they'd been recently resurfaced! The twin discs were about twice as powerful, Honda calipers going pretty dire after 20000 miles (needing a rebuild every second pad change at 8000 miles).

Oddly, the engine demanded a full service every 6000 miles as well as the same frequent oil changes. Ignore the valves or carbs, acceleration turned all somnolent. Along with short-lived if excellent Metz's, the expenses soon piled up. Fuel was 30-40mpg, depending on acceleration and velocity. Performance was quite addictive, any excuse for a ride and always taking the longest route!

By 23000 miles the chassis was going off rapidly. The forks had always felt a bit marginal at the excessive velocities possible but by then the seals were dead and the damping AWOL. The rear shock did a perfect pogo-stick imitation once it overheated from excessive speed action. The handling finesse was totally lacking but the steel chassis combined with its clever geometry made sure the bike didn't go completely out of line.

A White-Power shock - multi-adjustable and re-buidable - soon sorted out the back end; much better than new! The forks needed a complete rebuild, fitted with heavier springs and the damping holes constricted. The bike was then racer taut, rumbling over low speed bumps but becoming very slick when the throttle was rolled open. New found angles of lean and speed through corners shocked my mates into submission. Not a cheap upgrade but well worth it.

At the same time, I was aware that the discs were in a bad way. Well, not just the discs, the calipers were all gummed up and reluctant to work precisely. The discs themselves had gone all thin, marked with many minor grooves... so bad that the pads lasted for less than 2000 miles. The cost of new bits likely to cause an heart attack, replacements from breakers were secured, replaced after the usual tussle with seized in components.

With the old 600 I'd preferred EBC pads, but the newer bike had better braking with Ferodos. The differences were minor but every little bit of edge helps and I found the Ferodos had a touch more feel and feedback; with a decent set of discs and calipers, lasted for as much as 5000 miles. The refurbished brakes weren't as good as when I bought the bike but just about up to the machine's brilliant lust for road speed.
 

Particularly memorable was a high speed trip through France, when the speedo rarely went below 120mph. The Honda really hammered along the autoroutes and wide, almost empty, A road equivalents. At one point, a rather brave Frog cop leapt out into the road, gesticulating wildly. By the time I'd realised he was there I was well past him, decided throttle to the stop for next couple of miles was the best reaction.
Didn't get booked, anyway!

By 30000 miles the top end was rattling away. The camchain was knicker elastic. One replacement later, the motor was back to its normal purring but didn't really want to rev right out in the taller gears. It was a minor rather than major problem, if someone bought the bike they probably wouldn't notice. But I worried over this lack of top end fidelity and had the bike serviced, plus new plugs, air-filter and carb inlet manifolds (which can crack as they age). No difference, so I decided it was just one of those things.

At 39000 miles the engine seized solid. Not amused, I was doing 95mph at the time and the skid shook the bike like a jumbo jet flailing with a failed engine, until I managed to get it together and pull in the clutch. The seizure was caused by loose big-ends rattling the pistons about, so finely honed the engineering that any minor bit of wear can cause massive failure. I had expected to do twice this mileage!

Pissed off, I went around the breakers searching for a replacement engine. Luckily, a lot of 125 graduates write off their 600's and a 1993 engine was found, fitted and enjoyed. Well, sort of, when something like this happens it always makes me a bit wary of the machine, as if it's jinxed.

Nevertheless, the final reading on the clock was 54000 miles, when the Honda was traded for a new ZX-6R in 1995. A toss up whether I went for another CBR600 or the Kawasaki, but as the latter sported more power and speed I was seduced away from the world's largest motorcycle manufacturer. Many weren't, the CBR600 remaining the top selling 600.

More sporting in appearance, the ZX was less comfortable in reality, though first impressions were favourable enough. No, it took an hour's hard riding to turn my arse to stone and my wrists to agony. The bike became less annoying after a couple of months, my body adapting to its chassis, though the seat remained a particularly skimpy item compared to the Honda's, especially annoying for pillions.

The chassis was more high tech, less forgiving but more precise than the CBR's. The frame was alloy rather than steel, though of a similar wraparound design. Take the plastic off, the Kawasaki looked a lot less well integrated with various bits and bobs tacked on without much thought. With about 160mph possible, any hint of malevolence in the chassis would've been much pronounced but the bike seemed to run better the more the speed was poured on; the twin ram-air ducts forcing extra power out of the engine when really illegal speed was indulged - the bike seemed to boomerang forward at about 125mph with a violence that the Honda couldn't match.

However, the Kawasaki turned in about 25mpg against the Honda's 35mpg when ridden flat out. Combined with the ZX's lack of comfort, the Honda was easily the better high speed tourer even though the Kawasaki was faster and better accelerating at the top end.

I preferred the Kawasaki's taut suspension but it went mushy after 20000 miles, some quite heavy weaving at the back and twitching at the front. In that state I wouldn't run the Metz's beyond 3000 miles, though previously I could manage 4000 miles. A similar upgrade to the Honda got the bike back on the pace. Valves and carbs could be left for 10000 miles without any apparent problems whilst I did the oil changes every 2000 miles. Compensated for the heavier fuel consumption.

Despite some wild riding, I never actually came off the Hondas. Not so with the Kawasaki. Such was the delivery of power that I found it a bit dodgy on wet roads, didn't take much effort to have the back wheel sliding away. One day in Central London, I gave her a handful and lost the back end completely! The bike would've slid down the road except that there were all these cages in the way.
 

Bouncing from car to car as I staggered off, quite a lot of damage was done! Not least to the Kawasaki's plastic, wheels and discs. That all added up to major expense and an insurance claim that must've had the assessor in tears! No way I was going to chance secondhand wheels or brakes, not with the ease with which the stock stuff cracked up in an accident. Whilst the Kawasaki was being repaired I blasted around on a cheap, early model CBR600. Felt really slow but was so comfortable I began to wonder why I bothered with the ZX. The Honda celebrated each year with a new owner, having done a grand total of 134400 miles when it came into my hands.

Amazing how some bikes can run and run, though no telling what had actually been done to the engine. The chassis had toughened up suspension, plus later discs and calipers, meaning it went where it was pointed and stopped nearly as well as the Kawasaki. What it lacked was the mind warping acceleration and full-on, balls out, top end speed. Still, I did 9000 miles, sold it for what I paid for it, and was getting a pretty amazing 50mpg.

Once repaired, the Kawasaki was a real ball to ride flat out everywhere, the only kind of speed when I failed to notice how bad was the riding position. Another 5000 miles of fun and games rolled by before the chassis began to give problems. Firstly, the swinging arm bearings went, causing some wild wobbles at 80mph! Being a suspicious and cynical soul, I also checked out the wheel and steering head bearings, all just about due for replacement. Whilst mucking around with the rear suspension linkages, some wear was noted here also. Not much fun doing all that work just to get back to where I started.

The 105hp motor was beginning to bellow out of the exhaust, which also rattled with loose bits of rotted baffling. Not fancying holing the pistons from running the engine too lean, I bought a Motad 4-1 and Spent an amusing weekend getting it to fit on - you basically needed three pairs of gorilla-like arms! The Motad gave no more power, as far as I could discern, but a very nice growl once past 8000 revs.

The fairing lowers were always a pain to put back on and I was hardly surprised when I managed to crack the plastic around one of the mounting holes. Superglue was the obvious answer and it actually worked for 400 miles when there was a mild bang; the small crack had turned into a bloody big one. Seven miles was all it took to end up with the fairing flapping around dangerously.

A back street hero did the plastic welding honours, which worked if you didn't mind the odd blob of plastic and lack of colour coordination. I did, so sanded those down and made with the spray can and a couple of trendy Performance Berk transfers (sick, I know, but they were free!).

By 31000 miles I was suffering from blowing front lights and reluctant starting. The battery wasn't willing to hold a charge, the excess voltage flowing through the electrical system. A new battery and used light sorted that. Or so I though, 300 miles later total ignition failure. The electronic igniter unit was dead meat. The breaker sold me a dud, and was reluctant to exchange it until I told him my brother was in the CID.

As 35000 miles closed in I got the feeling that the bike was running out of zest, the overall finish wasn't brilliant and the seat was now totally flat, the edges of the plastic cutting into my thighs. The big bruiser had definitely lost its edge and was perhaps close to needing some serious engine work. I didn't fancy paying out for that, so it was traded in for an import Honda CBR600 in 1998.

Compared to the somewhat tired ZX-6R, the new Honda was well on the pace, though I'm not sure it quite had the high speed zest of a new ZX. The handling was better, though, more precise and easier to throw through the bends.

Comparing the new Honda to the early one, the bike had come a long way, not least in the handling, gearbox action and engine smoothness. Comfort and cruising abilities were about the same (and much better than the ZX). However, owners of the early stuff need not despair - a suspension upgrade and later spec brakes can have the bikes on the pace even if they are 20mph down on top speed (my licence's long gone but you can get fake ones in the Smoke!). I would be wary about buying a high mileage ZX-6R but something recent should be a real buzz.

Geoff S.

 

Suzuki GS550

This old rat was on offer for 200 sovs. Created in 1979, it had gone around the clock at least once. I gave it a quick look over, decided too much work needed. Just to get shot of the corrosion would take a good week. I was surprised when the four cylinder engine actually fired up first press of the button. A bit of camchain rattle, the odd puff of smoke, but it seemed to run OK.

The chassis was in too dangerous a state to consider test riding. The brakes, for instance, were seized solid! I said I'd think about it but the owner wanted shot of the wreck, agreed on a hundred notes and delivering it to my house. No real reason to refuse the deal.

Where to start? Well, what was left of the silencers were kicked off, then the bike planted on a beer crate. Almost every bolt was seized in, a diabolical struggle to free off. I gave up on the engine mounting bolts impossible to shift without breaking them off. After a day's work I had the bike down to the frame and engine.

The frame was wire-brushed and Hammerited before the pub beckoned. Most of the rust was surface stuff, made it surprisingly easy to get down to bare metal. The engine alloy so far gone in the white rot that I couldn't be bothered doing anything for it.

The next day, the heavily corroded cast wheels were inspected. Both they and the triple discs were cracking up! Not surprising when considering the depth of corrosion. The front wheel's a nineteen incher, the rear an eighteen incher, not too easy to replace. In the end, alloy welding sorted the wheels and some used discs and calipers the brakes. More wire-brushing and Hammerite sorted the wheels out.

At some point, the forks had been rebuilt and the shocks replaced with Girlings. They weren't too generous in travel but taut enough and had plenty of damping. Just needed cleaning up and a set of seals for the forks, a pair of gaiters added as a final touch.

That just left the tank, exhaust, saddle and mudguards. Replacements found in the breakers for next to nowt, including a joyously noisy four into one. They went on without much trauma, nothing a few blows from the hammer couldn't sort. Most of the wiring had been done previously, the airfilter was missing and the battery looked OK. A new chain and sprocket set a finishing touch.

Total cost, so far, 240 quid. To the road, then. The mass was around 450lbs, the power 55 horses, a combination that didn't exactly startle but the motor was amazingly smooth and it growled up to a ton-ten without that much hassle. Thereafter it went dead but I didn't expect it to do the ton, so I was a happy boy.

The handling was a curious affair. Basically, had a huge amount of inbuilt stability, a certain reluctance to flip from side to side. It hated use of the front brake in comers, fast and slow alike. Would flip the front wheel upwards, altering the trajectory to a dangerous degree! However, it didn't mind the throttle being snapped shut - in fact, it would tighten up its line. Nor did it object to use of the back brake.

Once I learnt its limitations, I began to push the bike harder and harder, finding that the ground clearance was the final limit on handling. Even then, it just ground away the undercarriage rather than digging in furiously. Stability was good at all speeds, large bumps not really intruding. Given the bike's mileage, pretty good going.

I certainly didn't much like the triple discs. Let's be fair, they were old and renovated numerous times, bore little relationship to the stuff that came out of the crate. Lack of feedback my. biggest complaint - it was never too clear just how they were reacting until the tyres started squealing in protest! Not much pressure was needed but they would fade a bit from ton plus stops, making me somewhat nervous about motorway speeding through masses of cages.

Wet weather lag was also a problem but only on the front discs, easily sorted by keeping a minor amount of pressure on the lever to clear off the water. They were all like that in the seventies, someone going down-market from modem machinery would doubtless describe them as deathtraps but I soon learnt to live with them. All depends what you're used to. Brake pads last about 6000 miles but the calipers need a clean up when they are replaced.
 

Another annoyance was the way the chain wore rapidly despite its newness. This down to the tiny 15 tooth engine sprocket and long swinging arm. Turned out to have a life of only 4000 miles, though another 1000 miles could be obtained by taking out links. The chain runs very close to the clutch pushrod, not much hope of fitting a bigger sprocket (you can get away with a 16 tooth sprocket, just - Ed).

The front light was adequate rather than startling, the horn a hopeless croak (maybe down to its great age) and the switches difficult to master. It was quite easy to turn the lights off by accident! Electrics on this era of Suzuki were always a bit dubious, the generator burning out or the rectifier/regulator failing. No doubt mine was running a rebuilt alternator, the Superdream rectifier/regulator evidence of an electrical rebuild in the past.

The only trouble I had was batteries that were reluctant to last for more than 10000 miles. The one the bike came with failed after 1500 miles, spraying battery acid all over its compartment. The breather tended to fall off and white crud built up on the battery's screws. I was always a bit doubtful about the electrics but didn't experience any actual on the road failures.

Tyres were old-fashioned Avons, lasted for about 15000 miles before they became dangerous. This was actually longer than the replacement exhaust system, which should really be considered as a consumable! What else went wrong? Not much, really, quite an amazing old dear for its age and mileage. After about 23000 miles the bike was looking a bit rough again, so I did a respray to the cycle parts and polished up what little alloy and chrome that was salvageable.

The motor was becoming more and more rattly at the top end, though it didn't seem to affect the performance or economy, which was a reasonable 50-55mpg. The camchain tensioner is automatic, at least in theory - the plunger can stick. The only problem with mucking around with things on these ancient Japs, it's dead easy to strip threads. Sure enough, I ended up with a couple of dead threads. At least I managed to put some grease on the plunger and fix it all back together, satisfaction given to the shareholders of Araldite.

That quietened down the motor for a while. The next 6000 miles rolled along nicely enough but a relatively long trip meant I left the oil change for 1500 miles rather than the usual 750 miles. By the way, the gearchange action on the ancient Suzuki wasn't that dependant on the freshness of the lube, was better than many a modem Honda! Anyway, a few miles later the bottom end started knocking! Ooops!

The crankshaft's a rather massive construction, built around hefty roller-bearings, can survive forever given good oil. However, I had only done one oil filter change which along with the untoward length between oil changes meant it was finally a goner. Mind, the bike had done a very credible mileage, close to 150000 miles. I finally had the excuse to drill out the seized in engine bolts. The motor's internals were revealed to be in a very sad state, indeed, just about every component ready for the scrappie.

Oddly, some GS550 fanatic insisted on giving me 200 notes for the bike! I immediately started looking for a lower mileage example but no luck so far. A brilliant bike, as tough as they come and easy to ride and tide... Alas, most of the bikes now on offer are woefully overpriced, much more than a grand. Anything under that tends to be rapidly running towards rat status but they can be renovated as long as the frame and engine still have some life left in them.

Harry


Plastic Maggots: the Weird and Wonderful World of the Honda CX500

As someone who's actually owned a Plastic Pig, there was a certain inevitability about my acquisition of a Honda CX500. But no excuse for ending up with four of the damn things. That's the problem with Maggots, they are so unique that they do grow on you and before you know quite what's happened you're an addict!

The CX500 was introduced in Japan in 1977, made it to the UK a year later. In its home market it quickly mutated into a 400 but both the bore and stroke were altered, so not an excess of parts that were interchangeable. More on the 400 later (they are available on the grey import circuit).

Honda were kings of vertical twin and straight four design, when they engineered their V-twin they refused to gain inspiration from any other manufacturer. Watercooling, whilst not unique, was certainly rare - the lines of the machine somewhat ruined by the bulky radiator. V-twins, with the cylinders stuck out in the airstream, don't really need water-cooling but the design presaged the likely future of motorcycling.

Honda had almost single-handedly designed motors that could be mass produced with OHC's, thus another strange element of the CX's mill was the use of pushrods! Alas, there was still a camchain to drive the camshaft that controlled the pushrods. To add insult to injury, the camchain wasn't well designed and prone to early failure, though this was eventually fixed.

At least the large engine castings, owning as much to automotive technology as motorcycle engineering, were used as a stressed member, a relatively simple spine type steel frame connecting steering head to swinging arm.

This mix of modern and old-fashioned design was also emphasized in its performance which didn't add up to excessive kicks. A mere 50 horses had to push 440lbs, its major redeeming feature an excess of midrange torque that made 70-100mph cruising easy going.

At the time of its introduction, Honda went to great lengths to explain to credulous journo's that its high moment of inertia would give it quick handling. This was nonsensical, as even the shortest blast on the Honda would reveal. A top heavy, twitchy, feel was combined with mushy suspension to give the bike the directional stability of some old sixties Japanese twin, though it never went into the wilder speed wobbles so beloved of some Kawasaki models.

The best that could be said for the bike, it was relatively relaxed on the motorway, almost BMW-like in its relentless gobbling up of mileage. It bounced around bumpy corners with a mind of its own and would react fiercely to a heavily slammed shut throttle; the shaft drive making its presence felt.

To be fair, compared to many old Hondas, the gearchange wasn't actually that bad, though any rider used to modern machinery would soon be reduced to a nervous wreck. To sum the CX up as a poor man's BMW was about right.

Now, these comments apply to something new, or newish. I had a few test rides when they were introduced and read the reviews, but wasn't impressed enough to cough up the dosh. Not with the stories of rapid self-destruction of its engine, though they were more or less sorted after the first year.

It wasn't until 1982 that I bought one. 14000 miler, 1979 edition. Not quite immaculate but not far off, having just the one mature owner who was buying a BMW. Luckily, the guy had fitted aftermarket shocks (R and R?) and heftier springs in the forks - this minor upgrade absolutely transforming the feel of the machine, though it was still top heavy and prone to falling into corners. Time - a month at most - soon allowed me to adapt to its ways.

There was absolutely nothing exceptional about this machine. Compare the shaft drive and gearchange to a similar era BMW boxer, the Japanese machine was way ahead of the game. Its power output was best described as friendly, as far from adrenaline madness as you could get. But there was something about the way it ran that got under the skin. And despite the stories, it was a tough and generally well finished machine.

You have to respect a bike that comes to life first time on a winter morning - when it was covered by about a foot of snow! Any machine that can do a 1000 miles in a day, most of it at over 90mph, and tick over like its abilities haven't even been touched, has to elicit a smile. Or the time, after I was used to its ways, that I took a Honda CB750 on the inside, left him for dead in some sinuous curves.

CXs also fit me really well, straight out of the crate (perhaps no coincidence that I'm average weight and height), leaving me well balanced against a 90mph gale. Winter riding was helped along by heat wafting up off the cylinder heads, conveniently placed to stroke with a (leather) gloved hand when my digits threatened to fall off with the cold!

Anything over the ton rapidly became a bit tiring but then the engine didn't feel too happy either, grinding out some vibration and making ominous noises. Push it hard, the ton-ten was possible in neutral conditions... 115mph the best I ever saw, but it was a downhill motorway stretch, a North Sea hurricane assisting speed testing!

Talking about strong winds, charging across the Severn Bridge with a gale blowing to my left, the CX was caught by the wind and blown into the outside lane. I thought the whole thing was going to be lifted off the bridge into the River Severn until I remembered to lean into the wind. That would've been OK except that the pillars would block the wind, leaving the bike free to collapse unless it was given a twitch upright, and the wind itself would suddenly stop blowing with the same result. The great slab of metalwork presented sideways is especially prone to the effects of sidewinds and gave me some very stressful moments.

Especially true when loaded up with junk. A carrier and top box out back, a huge tank-bag and even a rucksack if I wasn't carrying a pillion (which I didn't mostly, the power not really up to the big mamas that are my type of bird).

Even with the stronger suspension, the Honda was hard pressed to maintain its stability - down to the high centre of gravity that it started out with, put too much mass too high or too far back, the bike loses all precision at the front end. It was still rideable but I wouldn't trust it at speeds above 70mph - which is asking to be knocked off by irate cagers. In the end, decided it was better to travel lightly and rapidly, stay in B & B's rather than the tent.

As mentioned, long distances in a day weren't a problem. Well, not for me or the chassis, but the engine needed an oil change every 1500 miles and often needed the valves tweaked at the same time. As the carbs wore (after 25000 miles) they too needed frequent balancing sessions. On the plus side, the shaft drive was maintenance free, the tyres lasted over 12000 miles and I even eked out the disc pads. for more than 10000 miles - mainly because I looked where I was going and hardly ever needed a fistful of brakes.

The brakes were an interesting combination of front twin discs and rear SLS drum. The latter was entirely adequate and maintenance free - a great contrast with rear discs that are rapidly covered in road crud and need constant attention. The twin discs were about what you'd expect from that period, good stoppers but with a bit of wet weather lag and needing a complete rebuild every 15000 miles, or so.

The calipers aren't easy to disassemble and if neglected corrode into one solid lump. The general build quality of the bike's quite good. The first sign of rot found in the exhaust collector box - it doesn't do much, can be knocked out and the holes in the pipes welded over. Of course, the silencers will go eventually but universal cans (the short, stubby ones) can then be knocked out without doing in the carburation. The downpipes will last as long as the engine...

CXs have gone around the clock. Not all of them, mind! Even with regular oil changes and maintenance sessions, mine began to go off around the 60000 mile mark. The first signs were heavy knocking on start up, disappeared once the oil circulated. And a reluctance to go beyond 90mph, with loads of vibes and engine noise. The bike didn't look that bad, there wasn't any rust and I'd even kept the engine alloy in good shape, whilst the chassis was still running its original bearings!

This was 1985, I had the opportunity to buy a Euro version. This had a complex Pro-Link back end and a restyle, neither of which I much liked, butit was a 1982 machine with just 2300 miles under its wheels and in immaculate condition. Once warmed, the old CX didn't sound like it was on its last legs and survived a test tide by the mechanic. A reasonable trade-in value was obtained, smiles all round.

I later found out that the CX had blown up big time, about a week after it was sold! I think the main bearings were shot, although it could've been the water-pump on the way out. Whatever, I had, for once, good timing.

Most of the mechanicals were identical between the machines but there were subtle differences that annoyed me. After so many miles on the old CX we'd adapted to each other ways and | found the newer machine slightly annoying. The relatively mushy front forks didn't help but the back end was both tauter and more compliant than the old twin shock set-up.

Power delivery was bit harder charging at the top end, nothing to get too excited about but it was a tad easier to run through the ton and put 110mph on the clock. The latter might've been optimistic as I managed to do 120mph on one memorable occasion. This was the fastest I'd ever travelled on a motorcycle sad old git, I know.

As usually happens, after a couple of months riding the bike became part of my life and I wouldn't hear any criticism of it. I was soon clocking up some high mileages over the weekend as well as doing the commuting chores. If you can live without mind blowing acceleration and blistering top speeds this kind of bike's ideal. If you can't your licence probably can!

Everything wore at a more rapid rate. Why, I don't know. Tyres lasted for less than 10000 miles, pads for about half that, and fuel was only 45mpg. And I had grave hassle with the rear suspension's linkages every 12000 miles. On the other hand, servicing was a 3000 mile chore rather than at half that mileage but hardly a major cost. Again, the shaft drive gave me an easy time.

The water-pump failed at 39400 miles! A used item sorted that but I began to notice smoke on the overrun. The engine may have overheated when the pump was on the way out, though valve seats that disappear into the cylinder head aren't unknown on CXs. Whatever, I needed a used pair of cylinder heads and it took about two weeks to find them.
 

One advantage of OHV designs, it's relatively painless to whip off the cylinder heads! Or I thought it was... somehow I managed to crack one of the carb's manifolds. Typically, this was on the inside where I couldn't see it, took a lot of head scratching before I realised why I was riding around on a rather odd sounding 225cc single!

Come 45000 miles I was convinced that the engine was about to blow up in a big way. The finish on this later CX wasn't as good as the earlier one, bits of rust coming out from under the tank's and frame's paint whilst the white fur was having a fine old time with the engine alloy. It all cleaned up, but came back at the first sign of rain.

This was 1987. The CX was traded for a Kawasaki GT750. The same kind of philosophy behind the four but I never really got on with it, just didn't seem right after the friendly V-twin. A Moto Guzzi V50 was picked up cheaply but turned out to be in self-destruct mode. Fix one problem, another bigger hassle turned up. That was dumped on the nearest breaker. The GT rolled up the miles for a few years until 1990 when I bought a dog CX500.

Poor thing had been through too many owners and clocked up 76000 miles. It should've been on its last legs save that the motor had been rebuilt ten thousand miles before. The money obviously ran out when it came to the shaft drive. A worn CX has a pretty nasty gearchange which becomes almost impossible when the shaft's bearings are shagged. A complete assembly of back wheel and shaft purchased from a breaker and fitted. I could then use the gearbox without too much thought (still an acquired art like BMW's once some wear gets into the selectors - a good thief deterrent!).

Despite its age and relative lack of power, I was happy to be back on a CX! Over the next couple of years I did the chassis up - rebuilt front forks, Girling shocks, powder coated frame, resprayed cycle parts, rebuilt brakes and renovated Comstar wheels. Even made stainless steel downpipes!

The clock clicked through the 100000 mile barrier... the engine didn't want to know any more! They have a built-in obsolescence that means anything over 60000 miles is pushing it. Sometimes the tolerances go the right way, under a tender hand they break into six figures; usually a fairly major rebuild is needed along the way. Once they get to a certain stage, all the major components are a goner. There was certainly little that I could salvage from mine!

Not one to give up easily, I tracked down a crashed CX from the breakers. This had a rattly old beast of an engine but it worked well enough. Along the way, I had bought a good VT500, which seemed to be more of the same in a slightly more sporting vein. The CX was relegated to winter hack status, somewhat unfairly as its renovated chassis was in fine shape.

Forward to 1994, when what did I find in a grey importers? A Jap spec GL400! Pass the sick bucket, what kind of pervert would do that to a CX engine? I was about to walk out in disgust when I was collared by the salesman. Despite looking like it'd been abandoned for a few years, the mileometer read only 7000 kilometres and the motor purred with restrained vigour. The ticket said 800 quid but the dealer seemed pretty desperate and didn't hit me when I offered five hundred notes, adding that I'd have to spend out on a lot of kit to get rid of the custom look.

He seemed glad to be shot of the abortion and I had the embarrassing business of riding it home. The 400 only makes 40 horses, needs some more throttle work, but is that much smoother than the 500. The chassis was horrible, no other word for it. There wasn't any feeling of security, it seemed to emphasize the top heavy and whacky feel of the original CX; not aided by long travel suspension that was far too soft. The front disc had the forks flopping about all over the shop. Decided I could live with the motor but the chassis was just an accident looking for somewhere to happen.

Yes, | did the obvious. Mate the 400's engine with the old but renovated CX's chassis. The 400's chassis was sold off to some pervert for two hundred quid and the CX500 motor went for 150 sovs (it still ran!) to a desperate DR. That meant I'd only paid 150 quid for a practically new engine! Better still, the CX400 was so competent that | didn't need the VT any more and was able to sell it at a nice profit. Clever, or what?

True, the 400 didn't quite have the relaxed feel of the 500, but everything was so much more slicker than the old rat I'd been riding around on, | wasn't going to complain. I'd mated the 400's engine with my stainless steel exhaust and 500's carbs (themselves modded to suit the exhaust), so there was probably a few more horses than stock.

It was certainly the most economical middleweight I'd ever owned. The first CX would do 60mpg on a good day but most of the bikes I'd owned turned in 45mpg or so. Not a disaster but hardly inspiring compared with modern cages. The CX400 averaged out at just under 70mpg, with 75mpg possible under a moderate right wrist. Ridden flat out, good for about 105mph (90mph cruising no great hassle), it'd dive down to 60mpg. As the other running costs were minimal, it was a very cheap bike to run.

CX500's are slowly disappearing from the roads. Some are still seen charging through London as part of the DR scene; the engines can be rebuilt a few times, becoming increasingly finicky. The really nice, low mileage ones are hard to find, you have to go to the extremes of a fanatic to get something decent on the road. Worth the effort? Oh yes! 

H.K.

 

Kawasaki ZZ-R1100

It doesn't take much to write off the race-replicas, the plastic so expensive to replace that a slide down the road is all it takes. This 1994 ZZR1100 languished in the breakers for a couple of months, no-one willing to hand over the two grand demanded. In the end I made an offer and it was accepted. A bit dodgy, buying a 150hp motorcycle that had been down the road but it was a ridiculously cheap way into the hyperbike game.

The obvious solution to the shattered plastic was to simply remove it all, go the street-fighter route. But the bike looks pretty naff. Replica plastic was ordered, including the tail section and some filler applied to the dented tank. Breakers were visited until I had a collection of pegs, bars, switches, lights, indicators, etc. A newish exhaust finishing off the package. I didn't bother with the spray job until I was sure everything was going to work properly, mindless optimism not one of my failings! It ended up dark blue and candy orange, looked very nice, too!

The ZZR weighed 500lbs, both looked it and felt it. The great slab of a petrol tank was sculpted for my legs but still left me splayed quite widely, was almost sexual in its embrace, all it needed... oops, sorry, this is a motorcycle magazine, isn't it? Anyway, the bike's a bit of a handful, especially at town speeds, the seventeen inch front wheel a bit reluctant to go where I wanted to go.

The bars weren't clip-ons but not far off, quite a stretch over the tank, a bit of wrist strain during the early days. None of this was immediately apparent, my only thoughts were down to trying to keep the bike from going airborne. The ZZR has a very direct throttle, giving it a bit of welly had the bike thrust forward like nitrous oxide had cut in. It was dead easy to get the front wheel off the ground without thinking about it, seemed to do 60mph in a blink of an eye.

Trying to ride through traffic in first gear, just a series of jerks, the mildest amount of throttle producing too much speed. It didn't really quiet down until it was in fourth! Even then, all it took was a flick of the wrist for it to lay down massive, seamless power that had the needles on the dials moving so fast I couldn't keep up with them.
The same went for road speed. The ton came up so rapidly and with such ease that it was more like 30mph on lesser machines. Put it into sixth, at 70mph there was a slight stutter, then the bike sprang forward, hit the ton and went into warp drive, putting the ton-fifty on the clock before I'd even had a chance to comprehend it. By the time I realised what was going to happen to my licence it was doing 165mph and I backed off pronto.

This bike spoilt me for all other motorcycles. It was so at ease at speed it left me a gibbering wreck more often than not. It began to settle down at 120mph but I think would've preferred 130mph. At the ton it was barely ticking over, ridiculously understressed. Before I'm raided by the men in blue, understand that I had a job in Germany and did most of my riding on the autobahn - honest!

I often breezed along at the ton-fifty for an hour, or so. It didn't strain the Kawasaki in any way (other than the 25mpg!) but it did my mind in - all it would take was some dozy cager (Volvo driven by a Brit on holiday?) to change his direction slightly and not even the Kawasaki's magnificent triple discs would've saved me, I couldn't be bothered wearing full leathers (too many Kraut shirt-lifters in Berlin where I was working) or armour (kids threw bricks at me in the town centre when so oddly attired), I don't think my body would've survived a 150mph tarmac interface. Ouch!

The ZZR was very, very stable even at insane speeds, the price paid for that a certain reluctance to” change direction on a whim. Setting it up for high speed bends wasn't a problem but changing direction if something happened could get the chassis all twisted up, not something you want to happen at 120mph with 500lbs of metal threatening to go out of control.

The bike came with Avon radials, gripped well in all conditions and lasted for 5500 miles. Stickier, higher tech tyres might've helped the bend swinging but I didn't fancy paying out for them, nor replacing them every 3000 miles or so. On consumables, the Oring chain needed little attention and the brake pads did about 5000 miles. Considering the speed and mass, not bad going.

Not that anyone buys this type of superbike for their running costs. No, it's all about speed, insane velocities and outrageous top ends 175mph in this case! That kind of velocity is too much for the human mind to take. At least not without a lot of practice, officer, because everything goes down so fast that a moment's inattention will have you in big trouble.

After six months and 10000 miles, the replica plastic began to crack up around its mounting holes. Thinner than stock, it was attacked by vibes in certain rev ranges, though I never really found that the secondary vibes had much affect on the rest of the chassis. Coming back to the UK on one occasion, it celebrated being thrown about in the ferry, by dropping the right hand fairing panel. A couple of bungee cords got me home.

For awhile, I rode around with the lower half of the fairing off but this did in the high speed acceleration, the aerodynamics of the fairing critical once you get over 125mph. A spare was eventually found in the breakers and fitted, belatedly sprayed - looked well weird in a different colour scheme.

Some minor irritants turned up - sticking calipers that squeaked in protest (WD40 worked), heavy corrosion on the wheels, silencers that had rattly baffles and went bang-bang on the overrun, a screen that cracked up (the 175mph flies probably did it in!), an ignition unit that went dead and a saddle that wore down to its base, leaving me squirming in agony. Nothing exactly major, but the sum of these problems, over amere couple months, added up to a certain amount of irritation.

The end of the German contract meant I was back in a cold, wintry England - the ZZR could lose me my licence in second gear! Town road surfaces, greasy with diesel, water and other rubbish, proved problematic for the bike's back wheel - the mildest amount of throttle had it hopping and skipping in protest and any wildness would've turned the bike around back the way it was coming.

Ever tried selling a bike like the ZZR1100 in winter? No-one wants to know, at least not for a half decent wedge. Fast falling prices of new Jap bikes didn't help. In fact, they were so low I was seriously considering a trade-in for something sensible, like a CBR600. Getting a test ride was a major headache, required leaving the ZZR, my credit cards and passport in the shop. I offered the girlfriend as well, but he took one look at her (typically Teutonic in girth) and waved her on to the back of the CBR.

Two-up, it needed an incredible amount of effort on the throttle to get anywhere fast. No thanks. The dealer didn't want to give up, offered me a go on a six cylinder 1500cc Gold Wing. I don't want one of those, - I almost screamed, but a free ride is a free ride... bugger me if the big Honda didn't turn out to be a laugh a minute. It was never going to be mind blowingly fast but my licence couldn't take that - what it had was a marvellous lump of torque from tickover, total protection from the elements (the ZZR's screen directed water straight into my neck and face) and a remarkable comfort. The radio and CD player were pretty neat, too.

I tried to keep a straight face, but the one year old grey import was reasonably priced and I got a large wedge for the ZZR. If you are shy and retiring you won't like this bike - people gawp at you, cagers cause pile-ups and little kids wave playfully. And I thought the ZZR had presence!

The latter bike's absolutely brilliant if you want warp speed, don't do much back road riding and can keep up with the running costs. In the UK, though, it's totally out of place unless you're into false numberplates and playing tag with the cop cars. I always laughed at Wing riders but the bikes are amazing for winter riding and moderate cruising, though, again, a bit of a handful on the back roads... at least it's got a reverse gear!

Eric Tanner

Sunday 6 September 2020

Travel Tales: Cornish Comers

The Cornish trip had been decided some time ago, now we were ready. My two mates, Peter and Derek, were coming down from Peterborough riding respectively an Indian Enfield 500 Bullet and Kawasaki 750 Zephyr. I live near Exeter so we would all meet there the night before. So it was, with their bikes and my 550 Zephyr locked in the garage, that we set off to the nearest local to discuss the trip.

Next morning, with the rain lashing down, Peter gave the Bullet a good kicking (no electric start) and, to our horror, the kickstart broke off on the third kick. No problem, or so we thought, an old-fashioned bump start will get the damn thing going. No chance, all that happened was that the back wheel skidded without turning the engine over at all. With such high compression, the compression lever seemed to make no difference whatsoever.

More drastic measures were required, so we fetched a tow rope from the garage and tied it to the Bullet's forks and then to the tow bar of my car. Off round the housing estate we went with the Bullet popping and banging, eventually she started. The bike settled down to a reasonable tickover and the Bonfire Night type racket, which must've woken all the neighbours, had been silenced.

Realising that we couldn't leave the Bullet running for three days I thought we would take the rope in the hope we could get a tow when needed. So with tank bags fitted to all three bikes, waterproofs already doing their best to repel the downpour, we set off for the A30. Cruising speed was, of course, going to be set by the Enfield Bullet, 60mph about all it could manage.

My 550 Zephyr, with a Motad pipe (instead of the OE one with its collector box sucking power), Dynojet kit, K & N filter, plus a small screen to keep the wind off at high speeds, sounded fantastic. Much more power in the mid-range and better fuel economy, the other benefits.

Derek's 750 was in standard trim, apart from a small screen and hard luggage system fitted, as he had done some serious long distance touring in Spain and France. The bigger Kawasaki still had an advantage on top speed but there wasn't much in it up to 90mph... there wasn't going to be much of that kind of riding as we were governed by the 500cc thumper.

With the rain still chucking it down, we turned off the A30 to take the back roads to Truro. With the Bullet in the lead, Derek and I watched as Peter swept around the wet and often mud covered bends. Considering the skinny tyres and poor brakes, the Enfield was not half bad in the twisty bits.

We all stopped for fuel, Peter having to keep the single ticking over despite the switch-off signs everywhere. Alll the bikes were returning 50 plus mpg - mine would normally do 45mpg at higher speeds.

When we reached the first port of call on the Helford estuary, we pulled into a pub which had a sloping car park. Ideal, we thought, for starting the damn 500. After some warming food and drying off in the front of the log fire, we tried to fire up the Bullet by pushing it down the hill with Peter on board - two ear-splitting bangs and then nothing - where's that rope?

After hijacking a local farmer coming out of the pub we tied the bike to the back of his truck. 200 yards later, we were back in business, but only after the wretched machine tried to spit Peter off and into the village phone box!

Still no end to the rain, but my 550's so comfortable and so good to ride I hardly noticed it except that my hands had gone blue from the dye in my soaked summer-weight gloves. The four's so smooth compared with the single's thumping and vibrating its way through Peter's hands, legs and backside - how things have changed in thirty years!

Another fault had by now made itself known in the Bullet's gearbox, only first and fourth gear working, and we had to be in Bude by tea-time. Just before we reached there disaster struck! The 750 was in the lead, the Bullet next, followed by me on the 550. Coming up, a sharp left-hander, the 750 went around OK, but Peter couldn't change down because of the faulty gearbox so he had to give it a hefty handful and footful of brake.

The wheels locked up on the greasy road, with sparks flying. Peter was sliding on his arse towards a stone cottage. Luckily, nothing was coming the other way, | managed to avoid the carnage and slow down the approaching traffic. Peter collected a broken rib from hitting a raised cat's eye but the Bullet was nearly unscathed - shame he couldn't at least have finished the wretched thing off!

With Peter off to the local hospital for a check-up on his ribs, we set off to find a B & B, the Enfield being left in the yard of a friendly local. Next day, Peter and bike hitched a ride home with the RAC. The Kawasakis now able to let rip along the fast North Devon road to Barnstaple and then Tiverton and, finally, Exeter; the sun now shining.

With screens fitted, the two Zephyrs were very comfortable cruising at 95-100mph because of the riding position which without protection from the wind blast would be very tiring after a few miles. The well padded seat helps all-day riding, which a race replica biker can only dream about. All motorcycles should be built this way. The Bullet's rather different and can't be included in that accolade. 

Neil Monson

 

Honda Bros 650

An American import, 12000 miles, 1987, stock as far as I could see, 1700 notes, nice overall condition with no sign of being thrown down the road. Related to our own Revere, the main difference, the dumping of the shaft drive in favour of a chain, resulting in a mass of a mere 365lbs. Sat on the bike, felt like it was designed just for me!

The engine's another version of the tough old VT500, 52 degree V-twin with three valves per cylinder cleverly controlled by a SOHC. Only 55 horses at 7500rpm but loads of torque that peaks out at 6500 revs. Typical Honda slickness and sophistication, within a few miles we were old friends and I was riding the bike at nine-tenths already sure that it would do what I wanted and go where I pointed it.

Ten-tenths riding brought out no real shocks, other than the tyres squirming on their edges; Japlops that hadn't aged very well though there was plenty of tread left. I was soon wishing for more power - the Yanks have loads of tuning kit available for them, from exhausts to camshafts, the engine safe up to about 70 horses! None of that comes cheaply, though, and it would've made more sense to track down an already modified bike, although such machines are usually thrashed much more than stockers.

As it was, top speed was around 115mph, if |I got my head down. In the normal upright stance, the bike didn't really want to do more than 105mph unless it was running down a hill. I didn't have any problems with the way the bike handled, it was stable enough despite the lack of mass, only knocked around by the larger bumps on the faster roads. No signs of speed wobbles however silly things got.

It was this feeling of security, come what may, that allowed me to push the bike harder and harder everything about it encouraged attempts at getting my elbow down. I'd soon fitted a set of Metzelers and was getting my knee down! A cop car was following me on one occasion and I was pulled over, accused of riding dangerously. At least they didn't ask me if I thought I was Barry Sheene! After studying the bunch of docs I always carry with me, they sent me on my way with a warning not to repeat such exuberance on the road! Like hell.

A week or so later I wished I'd taken their advice. It was a bit of diesel that caught me out. Slinging the bike hard into a series of favourite bends, the front wheel lost it all and the bike was whipped away from me. The impact with the ground hurt, but I managed to roll off the road into a ditch, much preferable to being run down by some mad cager or clipped by the bouncing Honda. Most of the bike is well tucked in, the major damage to the exhaust, pegs and handlebars luckily, the machine had also managed to miss being run over by a cage.

Bruised and bleeding, I managed to ride the accursed machine the twenty miles home, promptly collapsed on to my knees! Not a prayer of thanks but blood loss and shock! My neighbour was all for calling an ambulance but I staggered into the house, had an ice cold shower and cleaned up all the cuts. If I breathed too deeply a sharp pain shot through my ribs, but a bit of gentle prodding revealed that none of them were actually broken. I might've caught my ribs on the bars, or something, it went down so rapidly that I can't be sure.

As might be imagined, after the bike was fixed up, my riding was somewhat restrained. One friend, who was a real mad nutter, kept falling off, but didn't seem to learn, just got back on and hammered the throttle all the harder... until he broke an arm and a leg, after which he declared that motorcycles were far too dangerous for him to ride!

The mind has a way of dealing with these things, a few weeks later I'd forgotten the pain and was back to playing with the throttle, though I kept an eagle eye open for diesel on the road! The Honda felt lighter, faster turning, than an old Superdream I used to bounce around on, seemed to have twice the acceleration and ten times the precision.

Not much of a comparison. It could also take a mate's ZZ-R600 in the tighter curves, though no hope on the straights. V-twins are ideal power units for motorcycles - light, narrow, plenty of torque, though laid out like the Honda they do need water-cooling but modern engineering means that the overall package can be lighter than air-cooled units. Another friend's GPz500S was faster in every way but bounced around a bit in the curves where the Honda was totally stable. It was better than the CB500S but not by much.

I was only getting about 40mpg, tyres lasted 5-6000 miles and the chain needed loads of attention, so cheap running costs weren't an incentive... on the other hand, it had plenty of character, loads of midrange torque and was as happy being scratched as it was running along at a moderate pace.

The second accident was in Bath (some jokes in there somewhere, I think), the old cager coming out of nowhere trick. The front end of the Honda's not exactly excessive in specification and it didn't come as that much of a surprise to find the forks bent right back, though the profoundly ugly cast wheel had survived intact! It took me some time to recover from whacking my groin on the back of the petrol tank!

It was a waste of time trying to buy Bros kit in the breakers, for all the efforts of the grey importers they are still rare in the UK. Would Revere kit fit on? Yes, one hundred quid, thank you very much, sucker. The Revere's set up as a sensible tourer, the relatively mushy forks not really suited to the Bros's sporting pretensions, so I had to take it all apart, fit some heavy duty springs. That was better, though not as good as stock.

My nerve was disappearing rapidly. The second accident hadn't really been my fault, though I suppose I could have reacted a touch faster and minimised the impact. Back on the bike, I rode in a restrained manner, full of paranoia about having another accident! I was just getting back into the stride of things, after two weeks of pottering around, when the handling went vile.

I managed to pull over rather than fall off. The back tyre was flat. The AA were summoned, took me to a nearby tyre depot who put a tube inside the tyre. That got me home, at the price of a weave at 75mph. The tyre guy reckoned it wasn't safe to repair the tyre itself, I should really buy a new one. In short, a puncture cost me a hundred quid for a replacement tyre and the previous repair. This kind of thing really annoys me about modern motorcycling!
 

The worst was yet to come. This took the form of some cager not wanting to stop at a red light. The major problem was that I was in his way. He pushed the bike out into the junction, the front wheel caught by a Transit van. Not the kind of vehicle you want to have an argument with. Bike and I went flying again. The Honda was trampled by a couple of following vehicles as they swerved to avoid running me over! At least they had good judgement!

I was still in one piece, refused the offer of a ride in an ambulance much to their annoyance. The maniac who had tried to kill me had disappeared, as had any witnesses. The police concluded that I'd jumped the lights and caused mass carnage. A long list of offences conjured up out of thin air, the cops really getting into it - if they had to do the paperwork they might as well make it all worthwhile. I was almost in tears by the time they finished, couldn't even summon any rage at the injustice of it all!

As to the Bros, that was totally mangled, beyond help - even the crankcases were cracked! The insurers agreed that it was a write-off. They'll pay up eventually but after reading the police report cancelled my insurance and told me not to bother asking for another quote. As to the pending prosecution, I'm off to America where I have a job waiting (thank god for the sanity of computer programming) and no intention of paying up for something that I didn't do. Luckily, my licence is still pristine and the international licence wasn't a problem. I won't be buying another Bros, nor even a Harley... going to get one of those big old Yank cars, the only thing I'd feel safe in!

GH.

 

Friday 4 September 2020

Yamaha XJ600N

There are any number of middleweight Jap fours on offer for around the two grand mark, but few that were only a year and less than 3000 miles old. A private deal via the local paper, I was first on the scene, took one look at the gleaming bike and the deal was done. A couple of years ago it would've taken ages to find a bike in such a condition for under three grand. Praise be to the parallel importers.

The XJ600S Diversion has been around since 1992, prices go down to as little as a grand for the early stuff and because they attract mature owners even these old bikes can be a good buy. Two grand would normally buy a two year old with about 10000 miles on the clock but with prices of new bikes still falling the second-hand market is a mess where bargains can be picked up if you act fast. The naked version, the XJ600N is even cheaper...

The owner wanted to trade in for a 900 Diversion, but the margins on the parallel import were so low and the potential price fall of new bikes so high, that the dealer wouldn't give him more than 1700 notes! He wanted to trade up because he found the 600 needed too much effort in the 80-100mph range he employed during his Continental cruises.

The smaller four made only 60 horses at 8500rpm but wasn't over endowed with torque by way of compensation. It was easy enough to ride, just sit on it, point it where you wanted to go, twist the throttle and work the gearbox and clutch. Nothing intruded or annoyed, it just never built up any power to a ferocious degree.

I wasn't complaining, it did the daily Central London commute with nary a complaint and was fine for 300 mile treks on the weekend. The only area where the bike was a bit naff, the single front disc (later models have better twin discs, worth hunting down!) needed an awful lot of effort to make it squeal the front tyre and there were times when I wasn't sure how it was going to react; not enough feel. I put Goodridge hose and new fluid on my shopping list but never actually got around to them.

The weird thing about the cooking Diversion is that the air-cooled, four cylinder engine is set up like it means business - slant block with down-draught carbs - yet it's the ugly old FZS600 Fazer that gets all the power and applause. Life's just not fair... there isn't even much tuning kit available for the Diversion, nor any big-bore kits. Hmmm, OK, it took me about a week to get bored by the way the XJ600N put down its power! I was soon thrashing it everywhere, yet not getting anywhere fast, if you see what I mean.

Still, it was pretty difficult to fall off, it carries not that much weight low down, has a nice neutral feel and rarely bites back - the front forks are a bit on the soft side but I barely weigh ten stone so it ain't too much of problem. Porkers will be riding along with the exhaust scraping the tarmac. The tubular frame's plenty strong enough, the mono-track rear end just about adequate, although the linkages are open to the elements and probably wouldn't much outlast the guarantee. Nothing's hard charging enough to really stress the chassis, at least not with my minimal weight aboard.

For a budget machine the finish is pretty good. Stainless steel exhaust system, for instance. Well finished wheels and engine, the paint was immaculate still. The ugly extended rear fender was cut down with a hacksaw - the only offensive item on the whole machine. Some call it bland, but the way the tubular frame wraps around the engine and the petrol tank follows the line of the upper frame tubes is pretty sexy to my eyes - looks like one person designed the whole lump.

110mph the most I've got out of it, but my licence is on the chopping block and I wasn't going to push my luck - 145mph? Not much more, the power was running out and the aerodynamic forces were gathering. The faired version goes a bit faster but I like naked bikes (at least my licence does!). 60mpg was easily attained, 65mpg not impossible, though cruising above 90mph for any length of time brought it down close to 50mpg - why don't the fuckers fit a single carb to such a mildly tuned four, which as well as improving smoothness and economy would remove one more maintenance chore?

Changed the oil every 1500 miles, the filter every 6000 miles, do the carbs every 3000 miles and leave the valves alone because they don't need any attention (thank god) - my figures, not the factory's. Ignition and camchain tensioner were maintenance free. The rather cheap final drive chain wasn't. Brake pads haven't worn out with 8500 miles on the clock, neither have the OE tyres. Minimal weight and power add up to a relatively easy life for the consumables - I'm very happy to report!

What else? Not much, it's one of those bikes that gets on with the job without making a fuss about it and you only realise it's a good ‘un on reflection. Think about the technology, energy and sheer cleverness that goes into making a straight four both extremely reliable and cheap to produce, there's nearly forty years experience behind bikes like the XJ. Pretty amazing!
 

My future shopping list includes the following: better seat as it goes off after the first 90 miles of riding; do something (anything) about the front brake; flatter and narrower bars to make high speed work a bit more comfortable (the pegs are placed far back enough to take it); a set of Avon tyres to stop the slight slackness in the wet; a louder end can for the exhaust in the hope it might liberate more power; a suspension upgrade because I can feel it going off (a few more thousand miles it'll be mush-city) - nothing too traumatic nor expensive, just stuff I can do along the line, improve the bike a bit as time goes by. It was so cheap, such a brilliant bargain, that I can afford to blow a bit of dosh on an upgrade. 

Gerry Day

 

Thursday 3 September 2020

Triumph Hurricane

I actually wanted to buy this bike. Or I thought I did! Not being one to throw money away needlessly, I demanded a decent test ride. The owner was a distant relation, meant a long weekend on the OHV triple was on the cards. The Craig Vetter styling was so ahead of the game that 25 years later it still looked modern. Could pass for a retro fresh from the Triumph factory.

Just the growl out of the upswept exhaust took me back to my youth and the introduction of the BSA and Triumph triples in the late sixties. Cynics would call them merely a Daytona with an added on cylinder. Truth was, there was sod all money to design and develop them, had to make do with existing components where possible and not take any chances - no OHCs, no gear primary drive, no wet sump, etc. Most of the detail design had evolved in the twins over a couple of decades, was likely to work in the triple.

The clutch was manly, the gearchange slick, the handling instantly knowable to anyone used to British bikes. Suspension travel was quite good for a seventies machines. Far from the looseness built in to similar era Japs. The conical drum brakes were a throwback but worked with a bit of effort. Knowing how discs go off over time, most owners put up with slightly less stopping power.

Spine tingling growl from the exhaust and plenty of punch from the motor (the gearing could've been taller). Took a little while to sort out the riding position. Tall, wide bars right out of California Easy Riders - where the bike was aimed to sell - and a tank that didn't really fit between my knees. Sounds like I've achieved old codger status but being part of the machine makes all the difference. A few miles later I felt more at home.

The bars hid the inherent heaviness of the plot - to a degree. The kicked out forks removed some of the usual stability of the stock Trident. It didn't flop about like a Kawasaki Z900 but I found I needed to concentrate on holding a line, making minor corrections as the front wheel fought the road surface. Nothing to worry about, just not as natural as it could be.

Acceleration was heady to about 110mph. Then the engine broke into a frenzy of vibes and felt like it was going to explode into a million bits. Push it further, 120mph eventually came up but I could barely hold the bars for the vibes and the valve gear had this weird plaintive noise that not even the mad growl of the exhaust system could diminish! The Hurricane can run much taller gearing (like the stock Trident) but that would take some of the fun out of the GP starts.

Three cylinder engines don't have natural balance. The Trident (BSA really) motor was never entirely smooth (24000 miles on the clock) but didn't try to destroy things like a twin. Its smoothest spot was 75-80mph in top gear (equivalent to 85-90mph on a stocker with taller gearing), which was barely in line with road speeds even on A-roads.

Low revs, it felt like it was tearing itself apart, needing at least 2500rpm before it began to run properly carburation difficult to match to the uneven firing pulses as well as the vibes. The Amal carbs were finnicky old things, especially after they had worn, needing attention every 500 miles, or so. I didn't bother after the first day's blast, had a hell of a tussle with the kickstart to get her to fire up again the next morning. The engine felt really sick until I'd tweaked the settings by ear!

Fuel was pretty heavy even with the carbs set to perfection - 35mpg. Once the carbs go out a little, expect less than 30mpg. Again, taller gearing would help, the motor feeling a bit strained at the 90mph cruising speed I felt was necessary to survive the cagers. I often had to do more than the ton to keep the cagers off my numberplate!

Oil consumption was also heavy. After one hard motorway thrash, 50 miles at 120mph (the small petrol tank meant petrol stops were ridiculously frequent), | had to put a couple of pints in the tank, itself red hot with the remaining oil gurgling away as if it had boiled. Ridden hard, the engine has a tendency to overheat, burn out its valves! More common when there were three sets of points to go out of adjustment, easy to ruin the ignition timing - but this bike had electronic ignition, ensuring a fidelity that the stocker couldn't match. I half expected the exhausts to start smoking but the motor was well set up, all its parts nicely worn into each other, and it didn't look, short of running it without oil, like I was going to blow it up! Quite impressive.

Less impressive, the lack of comfort. I was thankful for the fuel stops, gave me a chance to stretch my legs and ease the bum-pain. My neck and wrists were also complaining whenever I pushed the bike beyond 90mph. Used to primary vibes from big British twins, the triple's ruminations were at a different frequency and pace that I found quite disturbing for the first 400 miles. Then I managed to mostly ignore them.

After a long weekend I was still in two minds about the Hurricane. Loved the way it looked, sounded and accelerated. The handling I could live with. The lack of comfort and range annoyed, but I had plenty of other bikes that would cope with the long distance stuff. I was wary of the engine's longevity, perhaps unfairly good Tridents are no worse than any other old British bikes. Bad ones, another matter. In the end, it came down to money. The guy wanted five grand and wouldn't shift. Didn't think it was worth that but someone else did, so that was that. 

Johnny Malone