I don't know about you, but five grand is still a lot of dosh to spend on a motorcycle. This parallel import XJR stood in the showroom, gleaming brightly and looking just so right. I say this as someone who grew up on late seventies, early eighties, UJMs and never had much time for the plastic fantastic brigade. I spent a few years in a car, got shot of the wife and found myself at a bit of a loose end.
Enter the Yamaha. I was a bit shocked to find I'd have to wait ten days for the docs to be sorted, they were overwhelmed by the demand. They gave me the address of a nearby shop that hired out bikes, if my need was that great. It wasn't. I spent the time sorting out some riding gear, reading various motorcycle magazines, having a laugh when I found out Mark Williams (of Bike fame) had been locked away and psyching myself up for the great day.
I decided a run from Bristol down to the parents in Plymouth would be a good introduction to the ways of the XJR. The dealer muttered something about keeping the revs under five grand for the first 500 miles but that it wouldn't need any attention for the first 5000 miles. Like hell, I'd be changing the oil after 500 miles, just to make sure there wasn't any swarf from the running in process left in the engine. Parallel importers are just box shifters, don't expect anything else from them.
Once upon a time, the XS1100 was claimed to be the meanest, baddest four cylinder bike on the planet. The XJR1200 looks vaguely similar to the XS but it shares neither bore nor stroke, has no components in common. Despite having a shorter stroke than the 1100, the XJR has even more torque, maxing out at a mere 6000 revs. This meant the injunction to keep the revs below five grand wasn't a problem - in top gear it was going along at a velocity that was an arrestable offence.
For normal riding there wasn't any need to rev beyond that self-imposed limit. I certainly didn't want to before I got my reflexes sorted out. After years in family cars, the XS moved with lightning speed; conversely, the sensations arising from doing 50mph were so intense that I thought I was speeding along at 70 or 80mph.
By the time I arrived in Plymouth, all the necessary reflexes had emerged from the depths of my brain and I was beginning to enjoy myself. The poor old parents were aghast that I'd reverted to my teenage years, aboard what looked like a monstrous machine. I don't know what they thought when I nearly dropped it on their sharply inclined driveway. My mother was clutching her rosary beads and the old man was at the sherry cabinet, my spinster sister muttering about Hells Angels with a gleam in her eyes. Weird lot, families, got the impression they were well relieved to see the back of me.
I was a bit dubious about riding home in the dark, but the lights were way ahead of the stuff fitted to the old UJMs, had no hassles on the A-roads or motorways. I like riding in the dark, there's something surreal about cutting through the night aboard a motorcycle remote yet part of the surroundings. Kept the speedo around the 80mph mark, just burbling along through the sparse traffic. Arrived home full of myself and pleased with my purchase.
The next morning the electric boot wouldn't turn over. Looked at the battery, some plonker had only half filled it with acid! Phoned the dealer, they denied everything but said I was free to come along for a top-up. Walking halfway across Bristol wasn't my idea of fun but I did it anyway. What a hero!
That fixed the XJR up, another ride, up to GloucIt ail together So Mat lt Decameester, down the other side and back via the old Severn Bridge. Brilliant roads, snaking every which way, but policed by real nasty cops who would book you on a whim. Haven't they got anything better to do? Nope!
The XJ weighed in at 510Ibs, compared to the 560lbs of the shaft drive XS1100. An improvement but not the whole story. Most of the XJR's ease of handling came from detail work - steering geometry, bracing around the swinging arm and headstock, modern suspension and someone who could put it all together so that it became more than the sum of its parts. Make no mistake, it's still a heavy, relatively slow turning motorcycle but it's far better than anything from the early eighties, both in general stability and the way it could be swung through the bends.
I dare say that the elbow-down lads would have a lot to shout about with regards to its handling deficiencies but I had no interest in kneecapping myself, nor in pushing the bike off the edges of its tyres (fat, sticky, seventeen inchers). Nope, the bike did everything I wanted, reacted well to everything I threw at it, which included backing off the throttle and braking halfway through bumpy corners. Either of those would've put me in a ditch on most of the old UJMs I'd owned (the GS550 being the exception, if a very slow one). Haven't ridden any of the replicas so I may not know what I'm missing - but I do know what I like!
After changing the oil - clean as if it'd just come out of the can - I worked the engine up to maximum revs, though there wasn't much point going beyond 8500rpm, just produced a flurry of vibration rather than any extra power. I often short-shifted at 6000rpm, got where I was going just as fast. I much preferred to use the torque in top gear than play games on the gearbox, not that the gear change was anything other than slick.
I was soon off to France on the train. Nice and relaxed compared to the ferry. Off down to the South, the XJR seemed to gain more contentment as the miles piled up and the sun shone, the 1000 mile mark coinciding with both an increased smoothness and an even fiercer burst of midrange torque. I never did find out the ultimate top speed, my arms were threatening to break off by the time 130mph had clicked up, paranoia gnawing my mind - about some mechanical component failing or the Frog cops appearing.
Did about 4500 miles, shuffling through France, staying at nice but far from expensive hotels where the owner usually insisted on locking the bike safely away, and generally having a ball. It all nearly ended in Paris, some clown in a Renault decided he didn't like me and tried to push the bike into oncoming traffic. I stamped on the brakes, let him get away, which infuriated some Paris Dakar Frenchie who wanted to do 100mph through the city and nearly rode over the Yamaha! Paris was a lot madder than London, but we survived.
More riding followed. I can walk to work, so the bike was used mostly for pleasure - long weekend rides and evenings spent exploring the countryside. Get a few miles out of the city, it's a whole new world. The XJR didn't annoy the civilians - it looked fast but not too threatening, the exhaust was civilized without being dead, and I was nearly forty, old enough not to be confused with an outlaw. Had lots of chats with people who'd been mad for bikes in their youth, even gave them a blast on the pillion; I made many converts. One other thing, wives of friends who had always been nice to me were suddenly giving me scowls and hard-eyed looks, frightened their hubbies might follow my lead!
I had second thoughts when I had another shave with death. In London, this time. A dry day, the sun shining, all was well with the world and the XJR was purring in contentment, cutting a path between the cages and the gutter. A taxi driver decided to turn just as I came level with him, so I had to go with the flow and get a boot down to stop the XJR tasting tarmac... got her upright, gave it some throttle so the bastard wouldn't have a second chance, only to go charging up a one-way street the wrong way (don't know what the taxi driver was doing!).
I get the impression that imprisoned cagers aren't the cleverest lot on the planet earth, and they didn't know how to react to an angrily accelerating XJR bearing down on them. I did! Slam the throttle shut, hit the brakes and gravitate towards the pavement. One Volvo armed sadist swerved in my direction, only just missed removing my kneecap! The final indignity, trying to U-turn the XJR, only to find it wouldn't do it in one go and nearly dropping it again. I looked up, finally getting it pointing in the right direction, to see Mr Plod looking me over. Must've decided I was just an idiot rather than a mad DR, motored out of my life.
It takes just one error, one moment's inattention, to mess up big time - and the cagers just don't want to pay attention. I like the XJR, I really do, but sometimes I wonder if it isn't all a bit too much, not able to react quickly and fluidly enough to potential disaster. But then I hit the open road, revel in the easy way it makes mincemeat out of distances and even changes the shape of time itself! No way I can live without those kicks.
Graham Phillips