Purchase of the vehicle, a Jupiter combo, a joint decision between my girlfriend and myself, came about as it filled several of our needs. We needed transportation for bike building projects, to carry engines, wheels and frames between workshop, polishers, platers, etc., as well as weekly shopping excursions and camping weekends, where the good old combo gets loaded up with everybody’s junk. The machine was cheap at £120 with T&T, had the bonus of a transit van load of spare parts and was purchased from a friend who was going back to a Dneipr. Also, my girlfriend wanted an exercise bike, so the Jupiter killed several birds with one brick.
The vendor actually pointed out the faults. No brake light switch, worn tyres, cables, kickstart, brake and an obscure problem with the alternator which resulted in a dead battery after a few days use. Still, there were plenty of spares, so the deal was struck after a short test ride.
Getting back on a combo was fun, especially when it had the chair on the left-hand side, the reverse of what I’d become used to with my Sanglas outfit. However, the Jupiter steered easily and we were soon squealing around left-handers. The axle width is generous so it tends not to lift the sidecar wheel, but oncoming traffic can be a bit of a problem, especially as many tin box drivers tend to freak out at the sight of the Jupiter head on and gawp at your face for some unknown reason. Then there’s the clunk as the rear bumper bits are knocked off.
The Russian machines are so robust, the sidecar chassis, with braked, interchangeable wheel and suspension, is, if anything, a little too robust as hurling it around bends and side-streets has the bike’s frame and forks flexing. This becomes merely a question of holding onto the handlebars as firmly as possible, which has a beneficial effect on muscle development - who needs a Bullworker?
The Ruskie, square section, tyres on the rear and chair wheel emit a loud squeal during heavy(?) braking and cornering, which acts as an efficient audible warning device to dozing car drivers. Yes, the major problem with piloting a combination is the other traffic on the road. You’re more manoeuvrable than those four wheel thingies, turning through 180 degrees is possible within the confines of one carriageway by driving around the chair wheel.
Do this at more than 10mph with a hard lock-to-lock on the bars and you'll be facing the other direction before the smoke has lifted off the road surface. Surprisingly, even after several thousand miles the tyres are still within the legal limit. The front, a Barum, found its only vocation in life as an upright rubber ring to prevent the rim from being damaged. Use of the front brake does nasty things to the forks as the drum brake is oval - so are the half dozen spares. However, keep holding on to the brake and the thing will jolt to a squealing halt. That is, provided you run a rough file over the brake shoes. Next stop new tyres and Ferodos.
Starting the or is always a first kick job, provided the key affair had been depressed far enough into the headlamp and the carbs tickled if cold. No need for the handlebar mounted choke until 20 below freezing. The mechanical chatter is, er... probably normal; it’s not got any worse, but the unsuspecting sidecar passenger is in for some earache, unless they use the ear defenders that I thoughtfully provide (makes ‘em look like Mickey Mouse).
There’s no screen on the sidecar on this one, but the front section slides forward to allow access, there’s a tonneau cover and the seat unclips to reveal a decent sized hole exactly large enough to fit a spare engine unit - I wonder why?
First gear is engaged by depressing the large heel & toe lever, this also operates the clutch whilst depressed, so you are able to pick your nose at traffic lights. There is also a conventional, hand operated, clutch which is just as well, because trying to pull away using the-foot clutch is a bit hit and miss, especially when wearing the cast iron clogs necessary to start and stop the thing. Both the gear change and rear brake levers are positioned above the adjustable footrests. I use the front sidecar mounting to rest my boot and my heel to operate the brake, as the force needed is quite high. Gear changing is clunky and there’s a neutral between each gear to allow for coasting down hills on small throttle openings).
Which reminds me, petroil consumption is lousy at around 40mpg, typical two stroke fare. The speedo is slow up to 50mph, fast up to 60mph making a speedo mile somewhat ill defined. Top speed is about sixty downhill (thirty back up). Passengers, bike engines or rockeries in the chair reduce forward motion dramatically. I should say drastically as there is nothing dramatic about the performance.
The girlfriend had never ridden a combo so we went for a few circuits in an unused car park. She found the kickstart awkward to use and the foot operated clutch cum gear change also took some practice, but she made rapid progress doing circuits in various directions. Fooled by a sudden change of direction, we careered into a pile of building sand. A convenient place for a first combo crash. As is often the way this was the spur to overcoming this Strange Machine and she was off into the countryside quite regularly. On one long trip, with a well loaded sidecar, progress was rather slow but the combo went without problems until the final thrash along the M54, one of the silencers became coked up and began to burn, spraying hot pieces of black crud onto following cars.
Whilst removing the silencers, I finally replaced the non-existent alternator brushes, removing the sidecar for easier access is just a case of unscrewing four bolts and disconnecting 3 bullet connectors. Alignment is unaffected so it can be bolted straight back on.
Anyway, the alternator has a capacity of 45 poxy watts, 15 of which light up the rear end, the rest emits a dim glow onto the front mudguard. The rule for night time is to only ride on familiar roads and wriggle the headlamp at oncoming traffic in dark lanes.
If the electrical system is useless it is reliable - you can rely on the ignition switch points burning out every few weeks (there is a piece of emery cloth in the headlamp to deal with this). It has blown two bulbs and when the brake light was reconnected the engine cut out. The horn is nearly as loud as the piston rattle and the indicators are at the end of your arms.
Maintenance is straightforward, the two stroke twin being of rudimentary design. The air filter is awkward to remove but washable. The seat/mudguard unit is removable, revealing the rear wheel, drive brake and serviceable shock absorbers. The back wheel is QD and the chain fully enclosed in a well-made alloy casting.
The Jupiter combination is a well made, reliable and even stylish machine if you like this sort of thing. It’ll probably run on for ever, is not too fussy about the way it’s used or looked after and provides hours of fun for little outlay. True, it’s crude, noisy, and smelly, as are other comparable machines from the Eastern Bloc to which, in my opinion, it is superior. However, now it’s gone to a new owner and we've bought a Ural combo.
Vrco Kebinski