Kawasaki GPz600R

I had been running a 1982 CB650 Honda for the best part of a year. During the summer of '86 1 decided I'd like to try something bang up to date, so having saved up hard, I was, by October '86, looking for a keenly priced, clean low mileage 600R. Fortunately, I had the services of a friend who used to manage a bike shop, and who was willing to give up a few Saturdays to see that I was not conned.

After scanning the MCN classifieds during the week and phoning around, we took to the road with car, bike trailer and cash in hand. All in all we must have covered nearly 1000 miles and were offered an amazing variety of bikes ranging from spotless but very expensive thru slightly tatty but still expensive to downright dangerous and a bit cheaper We even tried a few dealers, but saw, B-reg bikes priced as high as £2450 which is crazy when discount dealers are selling new bikes for £2800. The smaller dealers asking the high used prices don't seem to want to bargain for cash either.

I only saw one bike in the private sector I fancied - this was a genuine one owner from new but a bit late (April '86) and too highly priced for me. The guy was in no hurry to sell either, so bargaining got me nowhere.

Two 600Rs Ken and I looked at up north stick in my mind as an illustration of what to beware of: Number 1, on the phone after the usual preliminaries he said: There's a few small scratches here and there so I'll take £1850 for cash. On viewing we found it had been thrown up the road twice, once on each side with a possible end over end job for good measure, followed by a quick rebuild. Although I can't be sure about the last bit as the only sign of fore/aft impact was overstressed main frame welds with paint flaking. Number 2 was described on the phone as '86 C-reg, 5000 miles, good tyres etc. Upon arrival we found a nice tidy bike but with a Q plate - the seller denied describing it as a C-reg despite the fact that I'd repeated the question twice on the phone. I tagged him dishonest and went home. Ken spotted that the bike had been in a crash, anyway, when he lifted the side panel and discovered dented frame tubes. Asking price £1950.

I finally bought my dream bike in a cash deal after some hard bargaining with a dealer who was well known to my mate. The bike was a 1985 C-reg, one owner from new, 4500 miles and came complete with service history. I must admit I didn't do much during the winter months, being content to pull it apart for cleaning and polishing and generally finding out what made it tick. I bought a workshop manual which cost me £18.50 - a bit steep for a paperback but it is, at the very least, very comprehensive and easy to use.

I put the bike on the road at beginning or March '87 and my first ride had a nasty little problem with the front brake when the brute refused to stop when braking from 90mph... subsequent examination of the front brake calipers showed that despite careful reassembly after cleaning and checking of pads the sliding pins had become distorted and were sticking intermittently, thus fighting the hydraulics. Some careful realignment and application of WD40 restored smooth movement and full braking power - and, fortunately, this was the only teething problem which came to light.

Apart from this nasty little problem, I was, from the first, impressed with the whole concept of the 600R. I've always had a soft spot for a nicely styled cafe racer and the 600R has the punch to go with the looks. The liquid cooled four has four valves/cylinder, produces a claimed 75hp at 10500rpm and is turbine smooth from tickover up. Despite the high state of tune it has a good spread of power, letting it pull away with just two grand on the clock. A small amount of vibes are felt at 4500rpm, but wind it on some more and it smooths out as the bike begins to take off. The exhaust notes sharpens, from a steady purr to a nasty growl. Eight grand through the gears will see a ton on the clock very quickly, whilst pushing it to the red line at eleven will send the bike streaking for the far horizon with the wind screaming over the screen and the rider's helmet and the exhaust note a disembodied wail (stirring stuff this, let's not get carried away).

At high revs the engine becomes very remote and the electronic tacho needs careful watching - although I recently read that the latest 600 and 750 Kawas were safe to 13000, but I don't intend to try that sort of experiment with my Kawa.

The neat looking race inspired fairing which gives the machine its distinctive appearance blends nicely with the rest of the styling and is certainly aerodynamic. Consequently, the arm wrenching you get on some bikes under hard acceleration is entirely absent. Wind deflection and wet weather performance are surprisingly good. However, it's not possible to run the bike without the fairing as it holds the lights and cooling system. Once removed the bare bike looks very ugly, so the comfortable 100mph cruising isn't the only excuse for the plastic.

The air/oil front forks are smooth, responsive and well damped - they'll take the worst that our wonderful British roads can throw at them. Mine seem to work best at 8psi (with the stanchions linked by a balance pipe the pressure's always equal). The twin front discs are smooth and progressive, and used gently will steady the bike and check its headlong rush. Increasing lever pressure rapidly slows the bike very smoothly, whilst squeezing really hard will. dip the front end and squeal the tyre. It's good in the wet but needs care due to its great power, but the excellent feel helps here. The brake is linked to a fluid operated anti-dive which works well on all three settings and stops excessive dive under heavy. braking.

I'm not so keen on the rear brake, the single disc lacks feel and if used hard can stall the engine after locking the wheel, hence it needs to be treated with respect, especially in the wet. I can't help feeling that a well designed drum would be more use here.

An alloy swinging arm pivoting on needle rollers is linked to a single shock using Kawa's normal UniTrak system. The shock has four preload settings and can be air pressurized. I was advised to try 2nd or 3rd preload at atmospheric pressure, which works but is a bit soft and twitchy over bumpy going. I now use, 15psi on the 1st preload, which copes well with most road surfaces. A pushbike pump with an adaptor is quite adequate for adding air to the system.

The positioning and complexity of the UniTrak pivots cause havoc and rapid wear in winter weather. The manual suggests stripping and greasing the pivots every 6000 miles, but I do it every 3000 miles for optimum performance and low wear. The main frame is a wrap around twin top and down tube affair, the latter detachable for easy engine removal, the engine itself rubber mounted. Constructed in light gauge high tensile square section steel tube in the interests of light weight, the frame doesn't survive crash damage at all well, so there are lots of bikes in breakers and hence lots of engine parts available.

The roadholding is responsive with plenty of feel and feedback, enabling the bike to be flicked along country lanes like a 250. Everything is well tucked in and nothing grounds. The bike weaved at ton plus speeds and white lined when the rear tyre was almost shot. The riding position is a comfortable half crouch in the contoured seat. But the seat lets the bike down badly - the red shows every speck of dirt and marks easily, while the pillion is stuck out in the slipstream having his/her helmet wrenched off. Harsh braking or sudden deceleration hurls the passenger into the back of the pilot. I think the pillion is best suited to four foot dwarfs with a grip of iron and no nerves. Seriously though, I don't think it's really a two-up bike in the accepted sense - I limit two-up riding to giving the wife a lift home from work.

I don't think much of the satin black exhaust finish, the dreaded red stuff has already put in an appearance and | fear this horrendously expensive item is of the quick rot variety. Tyre wear is another nasty, with between four and six thou from a rear Arrowmax depending on how you ride. Expect around eight thou from the front unless you really hammer those front discs. Pads go for around eight grand. Use Ferodos as they are cheaper and just as good. In fact, better as I replaced the rear pads and they made the brake far more progressive.

The manual claims 6000 mile oil change intervals but I change the oil every 1500 miles and the filter at 3000 miles, just to be on the safe side - I mean this is a highly tuned engine. Both carb balancing and tappets are a pain due to accessibility problems, but at least the tappets have simple screw and lock nuts. I'd have been happier with a side mounted camchain but the central endless hyvoid does its job OK aided by an automatic tensioner. Speedo cables are fragile but only cost five notes. to replace. The only other problem I've had was the gearbox which is stiff and clunky, although, to be fair, there are no false neutrals.

Even loaded up with camping gear the thing was still very stable, the faster I went the better it became. It was also exceptionally quiet at high cruising speeds. with just the wind whistling by for company. I took the bike to the Island and it went like the proverbial bomb and handled like a dream. Twice the engine went into the red without any ill effects and all I had to do was adjust the chain once. High mileage engines can suffer burnt out exhaust valves, clapped camchains and dead ignition units (very expensive), but it's generally a tough unit. You're much more likely to find a bent chassis than a poor engine - so check over the frame carefully for signs of bent tubes or blistered paint.

To sum up, the 600R is a really nice bike, great fun, easy to ride, comfortable (one-up) and well capable of ton plus cruising with a top speed around 140mph at 11000rpm. Accessibility has been ruined by too much plastic. However, on the whole a nice one Kawasaki. However, I'm going to sell mine as I've become addicted to high tech and want to try something newer and bigger. Kawasaki have certainly come a long way since that horrid Mach 2 H1 triple I used to ride in the seventies but that is another story.

Steve Burgoyne

 

Honda CB400/4

Martin was a diesel fitter who worked for the same, great (ha, ha) company as myself. One of the usual management decisions (on the basis of it looked good if you made a big change, but didn't really make all that much difference in the end) meant that he had to change depots and start commuting to work. He bought a used Honda CB400F, one of the first ones with the passenger footrests on the swinging arm and the much neater plain paint job. It had 5 owners and 21000 miles on the clock. He used it every day for 18 months and did nothing to the unfortunate beast, not even an oil change. The noise from the motor had to be heard to be believed. When Martin left the company, the bike had 41000 miles on the clock and looked like being scrapped.

Enter myself, proud owner of a much modded CB175 twin, keen enthusiast, who was looking for a Euro-tourer on the cheap, my days of new bikes finished off because I had just become married, having narrowly escaped this fate three times in the past but finally succumbing. Rather than give up bikes I decided to ride cheaper, less desirable mounts. While the CB175 did the run to work and shopping trips (two-up), on long runs it felt underpowered, which will surprise no-one who has ever had the, er, pleasure of owning one of these hacks. More importantly, my wife claimed to be embarrassed on the CB175 and refused to go to Germany on the bike, although I would have been almost content to coax the Honda along.

As well as the noisy engine, the poor old 400/4 looked and sounded absolutely disgusting. The alloy was corroded, paint faded and chipped and the seat torn. It was the kind of thing that the dustmen would have taken away if it was left in the gutter for too long. At least I wouldn't have to worry over someone nicking it.

A deal was sorted out over a few pints and the massive sum of £12 changed hands (yes, I gave him the money, not the other way around). My wife threw her hands up in horror when she saw the bike and said she would rather use the bus. Once in the dining room I set to work on the bike. The tank and seat came off relatively easily. The exhaust pipes took two days to remove and I had to cut the oil filter housing off because the corners of the bolt were rounded off (which was surprising considering the last owner never bothered to change the oil). I wire brushed the engine and covered it in black Hammerite (shock, horror). The same was applied to the frame.

I drained the oil and then took off the sump plate to clean out the mess. The noise was caused by the camchain. The adjuster for the tensioner was stripped. Removal of the bolt revealed that there was little adjustment left. Insertion of a nail in the hole, plus a re-tapped hole and a screw Loctited in position, reintroduced an adjuster system of sorts for zero cost.

It soon became apparent that I needed to buy some new parts - oil filter, oil housing, oil filter bolt, clutch cable, tacho cable, seat cover and chain. Armed with, this list I approached my local friendly Honda dealer. He only had the filter in stock, so I didn't buy anything from him. I then approached my even more friendly local breaker who sold me a housing and bolt for £1.50, pattern cables for £2 each, a chain for £10 and I bought a Crossland filter (CF350, British made) for £1.50.

With nice clean oil, the bits fitted and the camchain adjusted, the motor sounded much quieter, especially taking into account its 40000 miles of abuse. The tank, side panels, chrome and alloy were all polished up and three weeks after buying it, the Honda was back on the road.

The first trip, two-up, to the Yorkshire Dales gave 40mpg at a steady 50mph. Back home, the air filter was thrown in the bin and it improved to a much more acceptable 60mpg at 50mph. Running a bike without air filter does not bother me in the least; if I have to breathe in the polluted air, then the bike can as well - it helps if the value of the bike is minimal.

To my mind, the CB400/4 is a little gem to ride. Light in mass (375lbs dry), reasonable handling from the front Siamese Rubber Corp tyre (Bangkok rules - Ed) and Avon Roadrunner rear. The motor is smooth and gives a sporty growl from the Dunstall silencer (I'm busy making a silencer at work - I found some scaffolding last week).

I was a bit worried with my high tech solution to the camchain problems, so we had a few gentle 50mph runs up to Scotland to test it, and so far has proved acceptable. I performed the same trick on another 400/4 and it's done another 12000 miles without any problems.

After the first oil change, the timing was adjusted, the tyres kicked and, with a few crossed fingers, the starter button pressed, with the 400/4 transformed into a Euro-tourer, first stop Dover. Keeping 70mph on the speedo, the much abused motor whistled along smoothly without a care in the world, but with a healthy bark thanks to the Dunstall silencer and no air cleaners. The bike made Dover with no problems and averaged 50mpg.

We camped in France. Drinking cheap wine, I had time to reflect on the life of the Honda four, wondering what the other five owners had done to it - had it been abroad before? I was just descending into a mild dose of paranoia (Martin had run it for 18 months without changing the oil, should I really be touring on a ten year old bike, etc) when my thoughts were disrupted by Mr Bigot who must have overcome his dislike of dubious characters and motorcyclists: "By jove, thank god you're English! Place is full of dirty Frenchies! There're even some Krauts and Eyeties, here." We were invited to his tent to meet Mrs Bigot and 2 bigots minor. Over tea, Mr Bigot proclaimed his hate for Fuzzie Wuzzies, Frenchies, Krauts, Scots and Irish. By the time he'd finished his litany we were happy to escape.

On the second day we progressed through France and finally made it into the German heartland. We spent a day cruising around then one long day's journey back to Bolougne. The bike ran without giving any problems, although I did treat the engine with a certain amount of respect and didn't try running it down the Autobahns at 110mph; in fact, I never went over 70mph. It used a pint of oil and averaged 50mpg.

It's been said often enough before, but you can tour on an old/cheap bike. The grin factor is high, even more so if you've made some of the parts yourself. There was also a great sense of achievement, if I hadn't bothered with the bike it would probably have ended up stripped down in a trillion parts. With a bit of skill and bodging, the engine stayed together over a 1000 mile tour.

Things could easily have gone the other way. I could have ended up with an engine that exploded as soon as I tried to use it and left me stranded in the middle of nowhere. I could also, just as easily, have spent five hundred notes on a bike that turned out to be a pile of scrap. But that's all part of the fun. My stable consists of a CB175 and the CB400, but I won't sell either because the £200 I'd get wouldn't buy anything better.

William Gould

 

Kawasaki Z650

I have always wanted to write a road test, a real road test, not a five minute thrash round the block padded out with blatant plagiarism from the press hand out, but a long term owner's eye view of an interesting bike. Being totally unconnected with the motorcycle trade my choice of model has naturally been restricted to machines that I've owned, but in seven years I've only owned four bikes and one of these was a second bike that spent eleven out of twelve months in the garage. In fairness to Mr Honda I won't mention the model cos it wasn't really his fault.

What of the other three? The 125 died prematurely, a mere baby of a few thousand miles, when its internals succumbed to the pressure forced on them by an over enthusiastic right wrist - but, anyway, I did think it was a bit slow. Then there was the CJ360, well who writes about 360's? Come to think of it, how many people do you know that will actually own up to having ridden let alone owned one? That only leaves the my last steed, a nine year old, 80000 mile, owned from new, Kawasaki Z650.

On the 24th April 1978 a twenty one year old local government officer wobbled nervously away from his friendly local dealer astride his latest acquisition, a brand new shining red Kawasaki Z650. It had set my bank manager back £1250. Was it a bargain? Well that money plus inflation will probably buy a flasher bike, like a GPz550, than the Z650 ever was, but at that time I was forced to buy the Kawa because the Suzuki dealer (I wanted a GS550) wouldn't take the CJ in part exchange. His loss not mine.

The first year of ownership was pure bliss (apart from the cost), the extra power of the 650 being used to transport self and assorted passengers to far flung corners of the empire (well, Scotland actually) and 3000 trouble free miles in ten days speaks for itself. Even petrol disappeared at the same rate as the 360. I was in heaven. Terra firma re-established itself in the form of an obese Barclaycard bill - within two months I'd run up over a hundred quid (this was 1978). Two full services and two tyres. Drastic action was called for, the bike hasn't seen a dealers showroom since then - it saves a fortune.

Summer gave way to winter, sun to rain, shine to rust. Riding a bike through the ravages of winter gives a fascinating, if expensive, insight into the quality of finish of the various bits and pieces that are collectively termed a motorcycle. Involuntarily, I tested the whole lot. First to fail were the bolt-ons - crash bars, racks, etc. Next to go were the engine cases, but as they had no lacquer they were salvageable through the years with liberal applications of Ali-Clean (but don't spill it as it burns holes in Levi's). But Z650 chrome has been surprisingly tough.

Soon after winter, with 12000 miles up, the handling deteriorated from bad to dreadful. I'm not really the world's greatest judge of good handling bikes, anyone who has owned a Honda 360 can't be, but I knew something was wrong. It used to weave even at the legal limit, fast sweepers were avoided like the plague. Fitting a new set of swinging arm bushes with the heaviest club hammer I could find improved the handling to indifferent. Changing the knackered shocks for Girlings improved the bike by about a million percent.

Unlike all other Girlings I've ever come across they managed a creditable 30000 miles, a record according to the local stockist, although one spring had lost most of its chrome within days of being removed from its box. The Girlings were replaced with a very cheap used pair of Konis, a mistake that could easily have killed me. They never were much good and a few thousand miles later proved it when a damping rod broke as I sped along the A47. I didn't notice until the passenger handed me the spring!

The world's first mono-shock Z650 limped into Wisbech where my wallet was prised open for more notes that I care to recall for a pair of S&Ws. A brief word of advice - don't bother, the finish was lousy, the chrome fell off both springs and the adjusting collar broke in half. Meanwhile, the swinging arm bushes continued to wear out (yes, I do know what grease nipples are for), so I changed the swinging arm which didn't help, so next it'll be another frame...

Tyres had also been changed at regular intervals. Roadrunners were horrible but lasted 12000 miles. Inspired by Barry Sheene, I fitted a Michelin S41 to the front, and very good it was too. I tried a M45 on the rear but my happiness with this tyre was cut short when it wore out in 2000 miles. Dunlop came to the rescue with the revamped TT100, which felt much better than the Avon, but lasted only half its distance. I'd love a pair of Phantoms but they're too expensive.

The period of major transition for the bike was the summer of '81. I had forsaken employment for the University of East Anglia. Norwich and the Z650 did not take to each other at first. I fell off five times in three months. The last time was the funniest, both bike and rider unharmed, but the clown who did the damage was fined £200 and banned for a year. Justice at last.

During those three months the bike was resprayed, first blue, later purple; the standard exhaust finally crumbled to dust (replaced by an ill-fitting, badly finished, overpriced four into one) and various bits were hacked about to ensure individuality. At this time I wanted a GS1000, but what the bank manager said was unrepeatable, hence the changes.

The four into one lasted for a year and was replaced by a used Piper system. During the MOT, the examiner looked crosser and crosser the more he revved the engine. As he held the throttle against the stop, he mouthed a few words. I hit the kill switch, his voiced boomed across the workshop, IT'S TOO BLOODY LOUD. He failed the bike. I got my own back by relocating three Brillo pads in the silencer when I returned for a retest. There's probably a moral in there somewhere.

By 65000 miles the head bearings were shot, the third exhaust was finished and various other little points needed fixing. But the motor was still fine, needing no major work, just 24 plugs, three sets of points and twenty odd oil and filter changes. It did break down once and I had to push it home. The fuel filter was blocked.

The double overhead cams, the camchain and tensioner, and the valve clearances were still OK, which is pretty exceptional given the mileage. In its last 14000 miles the Z650 suffered more and more neglect, the only servicing confined to the 2000 mile oil and filter change (and those are vital on most Jap bikes). Old worn and scrounged parts were used and taken way past sensible service limits, but the bike carried on.

Years earlier, after one of my crashes, the bike blew fuse after fuse. Being a cheapskate I solved it the easy way by throwing out the fuse box, no more trouble. Problem was I forgot all about it and years later when the lights went out the wiring loom caught on fire. But even that failed to destroy the bike. Second hand wiring looms are very difficult to find, while new ones are horrendously expensive. So let that be a warning to fellow bodgers.

Even after 80000 miles and too much neglect it would still show a ton on the speedo. I'm sure all the motor needs are fresh oil and the occasional tweak on the camchain tensioner to keep them running. Consider this, I'm no great mechanic - more like bloody useless - but the bike didn't see a dealers or workshop for 74000 miles after the warranty expired. I checked the valve clearances at 50000 miles but they weren't far out enough to need adjusting. Apart from the time the wiring loom caught fire, the electrics were equally reliable, no problems from the alternator, rectifier, etc. (eat yer heart out Suzuki owners). The bike just kept running, which speaks volumes for its durability.

I finally broke it last year after 80000 miles, I'd really wanted to do 100000 miles but the final pre MOT check revealed that I'd need to spend a good two hundred quid on service items and I just wasn't prepared to gamble on an engine that had started to sound like a battlefield. One advert sold all the big bits. I was definitely glad to have owned the bike and I still scour the ads for a newer one.

E P Moody

Kawasaki Z750LTD

I met my Kawa 750LTD a few years ago in a showroom. I instantly fell in love with its custom lines; the gleaming chrome and glossy black paint seduced me into a disastrous love affair.

I quickly put in 2000 miles on the original eight grand, when both baffles burnt out. The system consists of two sets of 2 into 1s which are linked by a balance pipe. The Kawasaki spares man declared that this was all one solid unit which would cost £200 to replace, or I could buy a non-standard system for around £150. I ignored this advice, hacked off the offending silencers and replaced them with Universal types (something now apparently illegal). The job was made a lot easier by the amount of rust that had eaten away the metal on the old silencers. The lowly tuned LTD engine did not appear to object to this transplant.

Within the next 500 miles the balance pipe went as well - it rotted through and actually fell off, despite my constant application of exhaust bandage. While at the dealers to buy a set of hotter grade spark plugs (as recommended by the manual for improved performance and starting ability in the winter), the guy in front was trying to convince the erk behind the counter that GPz750 exhaust systems came in bits and that the Kawa replacement kit he'd bought was missing the balance pipe. The erk eventually agreed that the balance pipe did indeed exist as a separate unit. When I found out that it only cost £3, I asked him to fetch me one in the hope it would fit the LTD. His smirk was very annoying when he informed me he'd just sold the last one. I had to wait for a whole month.

The clever side stand ignition cut-out decided to cut the ignition out whatever the position of the side stand. It's fairly easy to bypass. The CDI decided to pack up at 12000 miles, a new one cost £100. There was a long waiting list at the breakers. Mentioning CDI units to any LTD or GPz rider can lead to violence or sudden fits of crying.

I always like to do my own maintenance and found the LTD a nightmare. The tappets are bucket and shim, although they don't need much attention, but they are very awkward to adjust and you have to rush around buying shims. The air filter is located under the seat and is very difficult to change. The screw down top becomes trapped when you try to unscrew it, turning a relatively simple task into a horrible ordeal.

The oil filter was a lot easier to change. Struggling under the engine every 3000 miles wasn't too much of a problem. I changed the oil every 1500 miles, because this is vital on Jap bikes with the oil shared with the gearbox. I fitted an annealed copper washer to the drain plug and never lost a drop of oil.

Removal of the back wheel was the equivalent of a round with a heavyweight boxing champion. The only way to raise the Kawa far enough off the ground to actually remove the wheel, was to place a car jack under the centre stand pivot. The way the silencers blocked access to the axle didn't help one little bit. That also caused problems when trying to adjust the drive chain, an item that only lasted somewhere between 6 and 6 1/2 thousand miles.

My attempt to cure a weeping cylinder head joint was delayed when I couldn't remove the bolt holding the petrol tank in position. I had to chisel off the nut that was welded onto the tank locating bracket. And I still have the scars on my knuckles from that little adventure. I had to tighten the head down beyond the recommended torque settings before the weeping disappeared. Apart from this, the engine was quite reliable, the only minor problem occurring at fifteen grand when the clutch cable snapped. The normal smooth gear change disappeared, replaced by a nasty sounding clunk every time I changed gear.

One maintenance feature that I did applaud was the ease of changing disc pads. The calipers had a removable disc pad holder that made changes very quick and simple. This was just as well as there were twin front discs and a single rear. I changed the pads at 14000 and they still looked reasonable when I sold the bike with 20000 miles on the clock. Average pad life is probably around 7000 miles. The brakes gave plenty of stopping power with enough feel to avoid locking up the wheels. My only problem was the rear brake pivot, made from a remarkably corrosive steel that defied all my efforts at grease application and insisted on seizing at inappropriate moments.

Generally speaking, the bike doesn't stand up well to wear and tear. The seat cover, for instance, splits at around 12000 miles and the foam stuffing blots the lines of the bike. There appeared to be a supernatural relationship between the speedo and rev counter cables. They very rarely both worked at the same time. It was guaranteed that once I replaced a broken cable, the other would snap very shortly afterwards. I experimented by leaving the broken rev counter in place for a thousand miles, the speedo cable whirled merrily away all the while. Thinking I'd broken the curse, I replaced the tacho cable: the speedo cable broke on the way home...

The electrical faults mentioned earlier were probably not helped by the way the gap between tank and harness traps piles of dirt, and the shortness of the wiring harness means every time the rider is foolish enough to actually turn the handlebars, the wires between head race and front light are stretched, causing chafing which eventually wears through the wires and blows all the fuses. Clever, very.

An average winter spent on salt encrusted roads left the bike ravaged by corrosion. The front forks age rapidly, with pitted sliders (that ruin the seals) and bottom legs that could only be made respectable by applying several coats of silver paint. Ditto the alloy wheels. It was so bad that the tubeless tyres developed a slow leak because the corrosion undermined the seal with the rims.

Not trusting Jap tyres, they were replaced with Roadrunners which were fine, lasting 6000 miles rear and 9500 miles on the front. Tank paint was ruined by bubbles of rust, when I tried to remove the tank badge, the screws just chewed up (something that was to be repeated whenever I brought a screw driver near the bike).

Despite the bike decaying under me, I did enjoy riding it. The upswept bars and laid back riding position were a poseur's dream. This was ruined whenever I had to stop, the seat height was too high for my 29" inside leg and I was left precariously holding the bike upon the tips of my toes.

Despite its mass (it's a real pig to put on the stand, a killer to push more than an inch and a bitch to pick up if you drop it), the Kawa was a a cinch to throw around town. The throttle always responded immediately and it went fast enough to keep me from falling asleep. Fuel averaged out at 50mpg, which included keeping well ahead of rush hour traffic.

The only thing that marred my daily jaunts to work was an orange Merc. The driver used to take suicidal risks to keep up and then insisted on taking me on the bends. If the forks and tyres weren't leaking and the suspension correctly adjusted, I had a chance to stay with him up to 95mph. This kind of speed turned the laid back riding position into a hang on for life struggle. Putting chin on tank left my arms in a rather silly looking position. I don't mind sacrificing some comfort for style but when it begins to make the handling hairy I begin to have second thoughts.

My bottle finally went with the swinging arm bearings at 18000 miles. I'd been trying to kid myself that they were just a little loose (but it got to the stage where applying max pressure on the swinging arm axle nuts to close up the gap between swingarm and frame had no effect) but the back end wobble became decidedly vicious at speed. At the same time the self adjusting camchain tensioner stopped adjusting, leaving the engine sounding like there were a couple of loose nuts and bolts circulating inside the engine. This finally convinced me of the silliness of trying to go too fast.

This bike definitely falls into the poseur bracket. It looks good at first, but it's a lot of hard work to keep it looking pretty if you also insist on riding when it's not sunny. In the end, I gave her up because I wasn't willing to keep spending money on a bike that gave so little in return.

Ginge

 

Suzuki GS750

April 1987 saw me waving goodbye to my second Suzuki GS750 with mixed emotions. Glad to be rid of a bike that had three weeks earlier broken down with little puffs of smoke wafting up from the bike, on only the second ride of the year. Further, the bike was untaxed and the insurance was just about to expire. Sad to be rid of a bike, which was on later reflection a reliable, good handling machine with a versatile and free revving engine developing just the right amount of power. After reconsidering the breakdown in the cold light of day I realised that it had been caused by my own stupidity when I had unwittingly trapped a wire under the tank after fitting a pair of horns.

In actual fact I have owned two GS750s. Both were black 1977 models with wire wheels and triple disc brakes. The first machine had been purchased for £850 in 1981 and sold in 1984 for £650. Bought privately, this bike was in very good original condition. When the original exhaust system began to rot I replaced it with a Marshall four into one which had been included in the original purchase price. The Marshall was a little on the noisy side but improved mid-range pulling power. I think the exhaust was a contributing factor to the two speeding fines I picked up. The second, much rougher, machine was bought early in 1986 for £550 and sold for £650 after I had carried out a great deal of restoration work, including the purchase of quite a few second hand parts.

The two GS750s were used for riding to work and touring, with many of the latter miles accompanied by the wife on the pillion. Ridden fairly sedately the handling is quite stable. Fuel consumption averages 45mpg and Pirelli tyres last 5000 miles on the rear and twice that on the front. Using a different combination of Roadrunners and Michelins produced an unacceptable low speed wobble at the front, as does a combination of either of these tyres with Pirellis. With Pirellis front and rear a high speed weave sets in at about 80mph, but this is both controllable and predictable and never amounts to much more. I should also say that both my bikes were fitted with standard shocks which can easily be improved upon, finances permitting. However, with a wife, mortgage and dog to support, I rely on the shoestring budget approach.

One of my fondest memories of the GS750 is a trip to the British GP at Silverstone. Accompanied by a friend on his Yamaha XS750, the extra speed and marginal handling advantages of the GS were more than welcome as I desperately tried to maintain the excessive pace set by the demonic riding style of my friend. Sweeping fast through sleepy Warwickshire countryside and blasting up to top speed on one particular stretch of dual carriageway, that ride will always remain firmly etched in my memory if only because in those halcyon days there seemed to be little traffic or few jam-sandwiches to impede our swift but safe progress. Nowadays, being older, wiser and much more boring, I tend to use my motorcycle less aggressively but I still manage to recapture the same enjoyment of riding and pride in ownership that the true motorcyclist feels.

I found that the GS could still cope with the odd solo high speed blast but more sedate two-up riding can be just as stimulating, after all you can't see too much of the countryside over 50mph. During my periods of GS750 ownership I've encountered relatively few mechanical hassles. The first bike had covered 13000 miles and 1 did another 10000 miles, the only minor impediment to reliability had been clutch slip on fast take-offs and a slight oil weep from the tacho drive on the cylinder head, which incidentally was apparent on the second, older GS.

I only had the GS professionally serviced once. In 1982, I left it at a superbike dealers in Birmingham (now gone to the wall) for a minor engine service and was charged £50. I was so unprepared for this that I had to resort to my flexible friend. The considerable expense acted as a big deterrent to further rip-offs. Regular oil changes seemed to be the best insurance towards engine longevity with professional attention only being called for in drastic circumstances or where expensive special equipment is required. The second bike had electronic ignition obviating the need for points changes and regular ignition timing checks. That modification was the only sensible one carried out by the previous owner. £550 was about 20% over the odds when I bought it. Cosmetically it was a bit of a wreck, but this was no great problem and by the time I'd finished it looked almost as good as new.

Mechanically the bike was very good and with 20000 miles on the clock and had lots of life left in it. The remains of the exhaust system were holier than the Pope, the chrome on the front guard was exceedingly rusty and the non-standard straight bars were bent. The speedo was in km/h, so I never knew. how fast I was going and, most dangerous of all, the main fuse had been thrown away and the leads twisted together. The rear tyre was bald and the front brake so spongy that the lever came right back to the handlebars.

About a month after buying the bike the rear brake caliper seized up, stranding the wife and I in the middle of nowhere On. Our first decent long ride. I hate to think what might have happened had it seized at speed - it was locked solid, leaving the bike immobile. When I tried to fix this problem the bleed nipple snapped off... the remains of the standard exhaust system were replaced by a Motad. The mudguard and speedo were replaced with used items at minimal cost.

After twelve months of ownership the second bike was beginning to approach the condition of the earlier machine. The rusting frame was repainted by brush. The chewed up engine screws were replaced by chrome plated Allen bolts. New nuts and bolts added a further gleam. New Fiamm horns replaced the laughable stock item (and caused the minor fire mentioned before). These were as new and cost a mere five notes from a breaker. Most new parts can be bought by mail order or from a good dealer, although my local one was useless for anything more than an oil filter. The more expensive bits can usually be found second hand, although this method can take weeks to come up with the right bit at the right price.

Anyone reading this article at this stage (who hasn't fallen asleep) may wonder just why I sold the first GS if it was in such good condition. Well, I suppose, in retrospect I acted foolishly, but I had just been caught speeding on the bike and received a not inconsiderable fine at a time when I could least afford to pay it. There was also the mortgage to pay and other financial pressures. In any event, at last I had come full circle and (to mix metaphors) was back to square one.

Anyone thinking of buying a GS750 should inspect any potential machine carefully. Some of them will have been run by would be street racers and suffered a bit from crash damage, although the frame is quite tough. The clutches are on the weak side, but fairly obvious in their poor performance. The alternators are also on the weak side, especially if the engine oil isn't changed very often (the engine overheats which in turn roasts the alternator and thence the regulator and rectifier).

The brakes are good but calipers corrode. I have been lucky in not having any major mechanical defects but I suspect this is quite typical, since with minimum maintenance any GS will be reliable provided it not been round the clock. There are still a few around and prices are still quite reasonable. I can say with confidence that the cosmetics can be done well, quite cheaply. I have minimal mechanical proficiency but find I can do a reasonable job if I am patient. Any one with more sense/money will have fewer problems.

Compared to the GS1000 I owned from new back in 1978 the GS750 doesn't quite match the go, but is useful, lighter, nimbler and general easier to fix. It was also lot easier on consumables and lots more fun to ride around country lanes, although the 750 is still far from perfect on this score. Compared to the GSX550 I have just bought, the GS750 shows its age as a '70s design, when big fours were just too heavy and ponderous. But the GS Is also a darn sight cheaper and has much more torque at the bottom end. But at the end of the day, it's the pleasure you get from owning a bike that matters.

Martin Bradley

 

Yamaha XS750

I must confess right from the start that I am writing about a machine that I bought from new. You may wonder therefore why I am contributing to the UMG. The answer is simple. I shall probably never be able to afford a new bike again; I enjoy reading the plain common sense within these pages and hope that the life history given here may furnish useful information for someone who is considering buying an XS750 second hand possibly more useful than that provided by an account based on a fairly brief experience of owning one.

It was definitely love at first sight. I wandered into my local Kawasaki dealer (I had a KZ400 twin then) and there, lined up against one wall were half a dozen of these new, silver gems which he was storing for a friend. It looked the perfect machine for what we wanted; ideal for touring the Continent two-up and with half a ton of camping gear. It also sounded like a real motorbike, not like a miniature car. Unfortunately, although not very expensive, it was more than we could afford. Still, there was no harm in wishful thinking. I collected leaflets and every magazine road test I could lay my hands on. In spite of critical comments of heavy, clunky gears, shaft drive lock-up most of which are true, incidentally - I continued to want one above all other contenders. A conviction deepened by seeing one somewhere near Tottenham Court Road with a Pantera fairing and panniers in matching silver. It looked grrreat!

Then came an opportunity. A friend had bought one and offered it to us for a day to test ride. That was it! Once my wife had experienced the comfort of the larger machine I received full backing to save up in earnest. By the time we had negotiated a bank loan that we were in a position to actually repay, some changes had taken place. The colour had changed to electric blue and silver (or maroon), new carbs, filters, choke and electronic ignition had been introduced. I ordered a Pantera fairing in black, collected my loan from the bank and, then, disaster... a nationwide lorry drivers' strike had been called and no dealers had one in stock - except one, 200 miles away. I zipped off a cheque and four days later we set off on one of the then strange new Inter City 125's to collect.

The bike is now eight years old, has done 23000 miles and I still love it, warts and all. Perhaps I should start with the warts, then you will have some idea of what to expect. Weight, first of all, then. I had some inkling of what to expect from the very first. Hardly ever did I see an XS750 sitting on its centre stand. They were always canted over on their side stands. With a full fairing and panniers it can seem a real pig to lug around.

A ride on a Suzuki GS1000 made me. realise what was actually happening. The centre of gravity of a bike like the GS1000 is kept low (sure, sure - Ed) so it feels light, but the riding position is low too, making for a much less comfortable ride over a long distance. We had come to expect the need for a rest every hour to soothe back and knees on the 400, but we could ride indefinitely on the XS without any discomfort; once rolling the weight is not so noticeable.

Another complaint of the whizz-boy journalists was the shaft drive and its tendency to lock the wheel when shutting off the throttle too suddenly. Strange, it's never happened to me, but then I don't spend my time thrashing around tracks trying to tear the guts out of a machine to prove some point. The same can be said of the gearbox. You do need to get the revs just right for a perfect change, it is true. And, OK, it's also quite clunky when compared to the ultra slick and remote boxes on, say, a Suzuki, but clunkiness to me gives a feel of strength, a comforting commodity in a tinsel world (rather like excusing vibes from a tuned B25 as merely the engine giving an hint of its presence - Ed).

My main beefs concern the brakes and the electrics. Stainless steel discs (two front, one rear) may look pretty but they are lethal in the wet! A moments lack of concentration on a rainy day and you are in for a dose of temporary - or worse permanent - heart failure for at least ten seconds after you apply the brakes. One day I may try these modern pads. Now to the electrics. All I can say is a Yamaha apprentice must have done the soldering and wiring loom. Joints falling apart, leads lying across the frame so they chafed through and blew fuses, switches that turned on any light but the one the handbook said they should, were all part of the learning process in the first few hundred miles.

The battery is too lowly rated, even at full charge it struggles to turn the motor from cold. I have had frequent cause to be heartily thankful that this model retains a kickstart. I continue to pray regularly that the rectifier doesn't fail because it's located in a position where it is virtually impossible to remove (my friend's went, that's how I know). And I do wish I could afford to buy original silencers. The baffles only last six months, anyway. There are plenty of 3-1 systems available, but they spoil the looks and the sound.

The oil cover is so difficult to remove that it discourages all but the most desperate of home maintainers. If all else fails, whacking the nut with a hammer and cold chisel works - you can then have a go at filing new corners on the bolt. One more wart. The suspension is rather weak for the mass, even without the fairing. It often bottoms the rear shocks, something that was rare with the Kawasaki even fully loaded up. This phenomenon may account for the more than average rear punctures I've suffered.

Incidentally, if you are going for one check to see if there is a wire strop (eh? - Ed) in the tool kit. This is needed to remove the rear wheel spindle as the suspension has to be compressed and the strop hooked between frame and swinging arm. If you don't do this you have to take the silencers off to remove the axle bolt. You also have to raise the rear mudguard, which is hinged for the purpose. Also, if you're weak and puny (like me) it's next to impossible to heave the bike onto its stand with a flat tyre. Help is needed.

The stud holding one of the shocks to the frame sheared off. This may have been due to the stresses caused by the carrier which is fixed at this point. The local Yamaha dealer could only suggest that I buy a new frame. I hacksawed away the remains of the stud, drilled through the frame and inserted a hardened steel bolt.
A cheap and fairly easy repair which has prove quite satisfactory.

Handling and running cost are both reasonable in the context that this machine is used as a tourer and not a street racer. Go much beyond the speed limits, and yes, the Yam bounces around and the mass can pull things way out of line. But if you want to ride like that, you shouldn't buy an XS in the first place.

I do not think there are any really serious niggles - apart from the silencers (which is an almost universal problem). I have enjoyed owning and riding the machine. Try as I might (as I do from time to time) I cannot find another model to replace it.

Malcolm Bott

 

Bike Ads: Bullshit Bingo

The Easy Life: Norton ES2

I had a twin, fast and revvy, a big single was my dream. I read all I could about every marque. Top of the list had to be a Goldie, followed by a Venom or Norton International. Trouble was, only £400 capital. Even very tatty Venoms were fetching £1200. So back to the literature - it would have to be a plodder, forget the excitement think about the charm. Not the fleetest of big singles, but thoroughbred handling, the magazine said. This would do if I could find one; a late Norton ES2. A couple of weeks later, there it was in MCN - 1961 Norton ES2 vgc, used daily, £450 ono.

I fell in love with the beast as soon as I saw it. A bit scruffy but all there. I think it was the Brooklands fishtail silencer that really did it, but the special valve lifter and the big tall dinosaur of an engine must have helped. "A test ride? No problem, guv, been everywhere on it, Continent, everywhere." OK here we go: key in ignition and fiddle with it (mechanism worn), turn on petrol, tickle carb, no choke, depress kickstart until compression felt, lift valve lifter, inch past compression, release valve lifter and KICK. She's firing like something from the Imperial War Museum.

Out on the road, I edge the Easy Two into the traffic. Well it doesn't feel too bad. Brakes are reasonable, rear end a bit stiff. Thumps along nicely, doesn't it sound great! Gears are a bit clonky but seem to work OK. Doesn't like going into neutral when it's stationary. Power is modest but I like the punchy lazy way it's delivered. Even the electrics seem to work. OK, I'll have it. Four hundred notes change hands.

One year later... I rode it on and off through the rest of that summer and did it up in the winter. The engine was pretty tired and noisy so that was treated to a rebore, new piston, new bearings, reconditioned head with new valves, springs and guides. Total cost about £220. I painted all the black paintwork in Hammerite. This gave a tough easy to apply finish, that looks reasonable but not showroom. I sprayed the tank with Holts Vauxhall Sebring Silver, which looks quite original. Other new parts included chains, clutch, rear shocks, battery box cover, standard style silencer, headlamp rim, ammeter, battery, many stainless fasteners and new handlebars. Perhaps another £250. It's not perfect yet. It still doesn't like going into neutral when stationary. The head bearings need replacing and new sprockets are needed.

I use the bike for work, club runs and trips to the seaside. It's better away from traffic than in town. It's been reliable and has never let me down. I love the looks and the thumpy way the engine delivers its power and it handles beautifully. It cruises at 60mph with max speed of a mere 80mph. I don't like the 6V electrics and the gearbox doesn't easily select neutral. Yes, I still like it and I'll keep it. Total spent around a grand, the bike's worth £800 and likely to go up in value. Running costs are minimal and spares easy to find if you know where to go. My only problem is deciding what to buy next...

Geoff Stovold

 

Classic Chatter

What a strange and peculiar lot us Brits really are. Of all our quirky little eccentricities what has me most baffled is how we're always first to attack and demean ourselves at every opportunity. This perverse nature is continued in the, seemingly traditional, support of the underdog until such time as they achieve success, then panning them for their method or style.

Never has this been more virulent than with the British motorcycling industry, the bones of which have been picked over ceaselessly since its almost total demise. The rights and wrongs of what happened and where any blame should be placed is past history. More unfortunate is that presently any talk of a revival is based on regurgitating the same old bikes which had become uncompetitive by the end of their reign.

A greater shame is the disdain often voiced about how dreadful the bikes were when they actually led the field and were the finest in the world. This appears to have reached the point where people apologise for owning, or having owned, one! I don't want to sound like some silly old bugger twittering on about today's whipper snappers not appreciating their heritage, abandoning patriotism in the face of our (still) declining industrial strength and how the collapse of BSA Triumph Norton (and a plethora of other equally famous names) was purely a foretaste of what was to come for the whole country's manufacturing viability.

It has to be said however there are several issues which should not be forgotten nor overlooked. A certain amount of pride might be associated with the companies which helped put the Great into British engineering in years sadly now lost in the mists of time and monetary policy. Such famous marques as Ariel, Sunbeam & Velocette, which are now almost unknown to the majority of people under the age of twenty five, were once household names throughout the world. In their day, British motorcycles were The Best.

For a variety of reasons their day ended in the mid-sixties. Despite realising it was too late to change the complacent attitudes which had become an endemic part of management (in the years when they simply bought out the competition and halted any positive development of new radical ideas), they were caught with their pants irretrievably down.

From the late sixties and, more particularly, the early seventies it became fashionable for bike magazines to slag down anything other than Jap bikes as crap. They had recognised-early on that high tech, highly tuned and consequently high performing oriental machinery, allied with a new credit boom, would sweep through a stagnant market place where the manufacturers were dictating to the bike buying public what they could have. (It's interesting to note that this is precisely what the big four find themselves in now, also facing declining sales).

These magazines, with many new titles joining their ranks, were all in business - naturally enough - to make money. They owed allegiance only to those who could make them profitable and couldn't afford to miss the bandwagon. It was no small matter then to ensure the supply of bikes for road test, it helped to be complimentary. And if they could be first to test a new model their circulation would certainly increase.

The Japanese also became expert in the field of marketing and advertising revenue was a major consideration for publishers. The Japs had vast subsidized resources to spend. Conversely, the meagre amounts spent by the British enthused no-one. The temptation to say, with regard to the bike mags, that the rats therefore left the sinking ship, is irresistible if not entirely factual. Much of this is still true today.

Several publications are threatened by the decline in new bike sales. Their fears compounded by the success of mags which seek nothing from motorcycle manufacturers except as a supply of base materials to create altogether different bikes from those which are commonly available. Similarly, the UMG reflects the growing interest in used bikes, of people who either can't afford or don't want present state of the art machines.

Today's motorcyclist may be all too easily influenced by what they read in the press.
Care must be taken to read between the lines where bias may exist. The majority of what is, and has been, written about British iron is broadly accurate. They were, and are, often temperamental, awkward, noisy and sometimes inefficient. But, for the times, were entirely practical. Many riders clocked up huge trouble free mileages. The market then demanded affordable, simply maintained, economical bikes with reasonable performance. In the fifties and sixties 80mph was pretty damn quick and seventy expected. It's completely inappropriate to compare these low tech, under developed geriatrics with today's ultra modern Japs (even if they cost the same to buy? - Ed). Would you compare a sit up and beg Popular with a Cosworth Sierra? No, because although they were both designed to comfortably transport passengers their specifications are as diverse as chalk and cheese.

Though not blind to the short comings of Brit bikes or to the virtues of latter day Japs, I would take care not to condemn in ignorance as so many people do. The Japs themselves are the first to admit that although innovators they are not inventors. Their specialities are development, highly efficient mass production and an enviable knack of spotting a gap in the market or exploiting an existing trend.

Even with such expertise a few hiccups still creep in. Remember who brought us the CB500T, with its pseudo European styling, horrific handling and self destruct engine, the VF series which spat out cams in days and had a myriad of post production modifications. What was it that had two camchains and only one adjuster? Then of course there was the RE5. If it's pedantic you want to be, we can all point a finger.

A brief flick through any one of the multitude of motorcycle history books will produce revelations to the younger biker. By about 1930 everything which is commonplace today had been thought of, tried and junked. Monoshock suspension, multi cylinders, shaft drive, super chargers, liquid cooling, stream lining - the list is endless. Either the technology or, as in most cases, the demand was insufficient. It has always been horses for courses. In 1950 a six cylinder DOHC with individual carbs doing 28mpg would have been considered as absurd as a single pot 350 which only managed 65mph might seem today.

The sheer joy of motorcycles, to many of us, transcends any barriers or divides. There's a lot to be said for a raw British machine which appears to live and breathe against one which, despite fine performance, seems to deliver the goods in a very comfortable and luxurious manner. For those as yet unconvinced that a revered place exists for older, more traditional designs, look no further than BMW, Moto Guzzi, Ducati and, of course, they say God rides a Harley. But maybe that's a whole other can of worms.

Alex Wickford

 

Moto Guzzi Le Mans

I'd been using my Yamaha SR500 for despatch riding for nearly three months, it was sounding pretty sick and looked a little rude. So much so that I was being stopped with alarming regularity by the fuzz. Oh, the embarrassment when I look back and think of the hundreds of miles I rode around with open pipes you know, I really did think I was on a Norton riding heroically at the TT with Geoff Duke on my tail (must have been all those vibes - Ed). To anyone who had to suffer its exhaust, I'm sorry, I really am, because if there's one thing that gets on my tits these days it's a noisy motorcycle.

The SR500 destroyed itself in the usual well documented ways, swinging arm bearings, rear shocks, but more disastrously, the valve gear, piston and camchain (to anyone who is rebuilding one of these fun bikes don't forget to modify the oil feed to the head, otherwise you're wasting money and time). Against my advice, the person I was living with a few years ago bought a SR and was unlucky enough to have the alternator/CDI unit pack up. I seem to recall that this cost £150; punters should avoid used stuff as most of them will be gone. The new unit should be treated with great care and once installed make sure you drill and vent the casing as a build up of moisture is one of the reasons given for premature failure. Personally, I would stay well away from them, but some people just like the looks so much that they won't take any notice of this...

As the poor old thing was drinking nearly as much oil as petrol it had to go whilst it was worth something. I sold it to a guy for more than I paid for it. In fact, it's the only time that I've ever felt guilty selling a bike - he had both legs in plaster and couldn't take it for a spin. I think I had at least one sleepless night.

With £350 burning a hole in my pocket and the knowledge that my income would be quite reasonable for the near future, I headed for the nearest dealer, slapping down a deposit on a very flash, two year old, three thousand miler Le Mans Mk. 1, at the not inconsequential price tag of £1650. Arranging credit was strangely easy considering that I neither owned a house nor had permanent employment. But I didn't worry about that, the bike looked so damn sexy with its chrome pipes and highly polished bodywork; I just wanted to ride and ride.

Yes, I decided to purchase without having a test ride. I was allowed a ride as rear gunner. The workshop foreman rode out of town a few miles, but he looked petrified so the bike was never really screwed open. He gave me the impression that Puch Maxi's were really his thing. Anyway, it was first name terms as I was signing the forms, pats on the back, little did I suspect how nasty things would turn out.

Back home, a set of Krausers were bolted on as the Guzzi was about to emerge as a rather over the top despatch mount (I might add that I did a lot of long distance stuff and very little W1). Visions of turning up at work on my new bolide were shot to hell, next morning, when I found the battery was good and gone. A phone call to the dealer to point out this sad state of affairs was met with the usual excuses (Oh, can't understand it... never happened before - we only charged it up the other day). They agreed to replace the battery but I had to go fetch it, which meant finding some jump leads and wasting much time and money.

The dealers were far from pleased because the new battery cost them fifty notes. Everything was fine for a week or two, I was having great fun blowing my mind and scaring myself silly, generally coming to terms with it all when the clutch gave up. A rather strained conversation ensued with the dealer in which he mumbled that it wasn't in the guarantee (I only had a vague verbal guarantee - that's what happens when enthusiasm takes over from common sense). The argument resulted in him agreeing to pay for the parts if I did the work. In fact, it turned out that I had to buy the bits and he would then refund the money at a later date. With a new clutch installed I was back on the road. There followed about a month in which it didn't take long to realise that the Le Mans was not quite the wonder bike I'd assumed from the road tests.

The rear shocks were useless, becoming dangerous with the extra stress of a pillion on board. The front forks were pitiful (sorry), the sealed dampers better suited to holding up a hatchback on a Fiat. Upon further investigation at a later date the word sealed wasn't really accurate because there wasn't any damping fluid inside them. The brakes were brilliant, a bit too good really as the unbraced fork legs used to twist and judder when things became exciting. Quick and vicious steering used to throw them out as well, but I never managed to find the time and energy to fix this particular problem.

The riding position was terrible, truly the worst ever. It desperately needed rear-sets but by this time I wasn't in possession of the necessary £75 to correct that. And the seat... well, it was like sitting on a brick wall, no-one ever enjoyed sitting on the back of that bike, nothing to hold onto and nothing to sit on does not confidence inspire. Again, after market items were available of course, but the price... over and above these expensive and uncomfortable faults, the engine remained peerless - I could not fault it, it was stunning, super fast and super strong, it was everything I'd hoped for and more.

The best ride in my life was a blast up to the Isle of Mull from Colchester stopping only for petrol. I felt a new person afterwards and the bike loved taking some stick, settling down the faster we went. I swear I could have leapt on the bike and driven straight back it was so good. I didn't notice how sore my bum was until I got off the bike.

The clocks on the bike were becoming very inaccurate and I was being stopped for speeding far too often (that was my excuse, anyway). I became so pissed off with collecting fines and endorsements that I ventured another phone call to the dealer (I'd owned the bike for a month at this point) to tell him that a speedo that went backwards once it reached seventy wasn't much cop. All I received for my trouble was lots of moaning about the expense of replacing the clutch and battery and if they spent any more they would start losing money on the deal and I should think myself lucky that they had been so understanding in the past.

Thoughts of legal action were forgotten when one night bombing down the road I found the totally inadequate front light attempting to illuminate a wooden potato pallet that had positioned itself perfectly to throw the bike down the road. Much to my surprise, I survived the resulting dose of tarmac rash with the mere loss of a boot. The bike wasn't so lucky and proceeded to destroy itself. At least I wouldn't have to talk to the dealers any more, I thought in some kind of commiseration.

After a mere six months of saving all my spare cash I was able to purchase some pattern fork stanchions which were too big to fit into the yokes, a crappy front mudguard that had a build quality and finish that made ten year old Wop parts look good, and a seat that simply wouldn't fit. When I complained to the suppliers, I was rewarded with a degree of understanding that led me to award them the Golden Fart award for shit service.

Picking up used front wheels was almost impossible, but I eventually found one for a mere £120, while a back wheel cost just £90. Anyway, I threw it all together only to find myself plagued with rectifier problems for the next year. I notice someone is offering a cheap rectifier service, at £50 for a new one he should have lots of business, I bought two in under a year - obviously something was wrong, but I never did suss it.

People have moaned about Brembo pad wear and I did have to replace a few sets in the 15-20000 miles I covered on the bike (not very accurate but blame the clock), but I wasn't aware that they wore out that quickly. Tyre wear was also reasonable, points were expensive (and pattern ones don't fit properly) and petrol consumption was acceptable considering the performance. The carbs would stay in tune for a whole day before reverting to their natural state of imbalance.

Overall, I didn't find the Le Mans an expensive bike to run, just expensive to crash. Which brings me to the next incident. Driving over the Dales on my way back from Scotland, Scotty found it fit to beam a stupid sheep down right under the front wheel.
Here we go again, I had time to think, as bike and rider slid down the road. I managed to kill the beast, but not before it broke my thumb. The cap was smashed and the plug broken. Fortunately, I wasn't alone, so the bike was put behind a hedge and, with my thumb hanging at a strange angle, I sat on the back of a Darmah for a very painful three hundred mile ride home.

Six months later a Cortina pulled out in front on a straight road with good visibility. The blind driver not only finished off the Le Mans but took me so close to death that I immediately sold off the wreck for £250 and bought a Vauxhall Victor estate. At last, I felt safe.

Anyone interested in owning one of these machines should budget for proper suspension at both ends - a Ducati front end being the best option, if not a little expensive. Electronic ignition helps performance and eventually pays for itself in eliminating the need for points changes. Air filters increase engine life. A fork brace is essential. for serious riding, as are a better seat and rear-sets (although they do not aid passenger comfort). Joining the Guzzi owners club is worth it for their excellent mag which has hot tips for improving the Le Mans. Of course, all these improvements do add rather a lot to the cost of the bike, but many bikes on sale owned by real enthusiasts will already be modified.

The Le Mans was a star when first introduced, but now can be burnt off my many smaller bikes, but still has simplicity, brutality and good value.

Robert Garnham

 

Honda GL1000 Goldwing

I had already decided to buy a Goldwing when I noticed the ad in the paper: Honda Goldwing GL1000, 1976, full fairing, MOT and taxed, £500. When I arrived home I phoned the owner. He was only twelve miles away and told me the bike had done 42000 miles and ran OK. As it was October and getting dark early I arranged to see it straight away. When I arrived the bike was sitting outside the house. It looked huge compared to my 400 four and in the half light looked alright. The owner started it up and I noticed the battery was a bit sluggish but that was replaceable. The exhausts smoked a little and the engine rattled a bit, but at the price it was on sale for I could spend a bit of money on it and have a good tourer. The tyres had been replaced so that was one less thing to worry over. I offered the owner £450 and he accepted so I arranged to collect the bike the next day.

Driving the bike home I began to hear noises from the engine, but as it seemed to have plenty of power it didn't concern me and I decided a good service and oil change would fix it up. Next day when I went to start it I found the battery was dead. As there was no kickstart I had to charge the battery for a couple of hours, but even then it had to struggle to start the motor.

I spent £50 on new battery, plugs, points, oil and filter. I drained the oil and noticed that it was full of copper tinted dust and looked as if it had never been changed for ages, so I decided to flush out the engine before refilling with new oil and adding a tin of STP for good measure. After all this the engine sounded a bit quieter but not perfect. After running the bike for a few days I realised that the big-ends were gone and my problems were about to start. Sure enough, two days later, after finishing work, I pushed the starter button only to hear the starter turning but not the engine - eventually it did start. After a week of unpredictable starting and increasing engine noise I arranged to use a friend's garage to strip down the motor.

The engine was surprisingly easy to remove considering its size. I found the main bearings were down to the copper and the big-end shells also worn but not as badly as I'd expected. The crankshaft was checked and found to be OK. As each crank, con-rod and shell had a different code it took me a good few hours of head scratching to work out what sizes were needed. Eventually, armed with the right info I ordered six main bearing shells and eight big-end bearing shells at a cost of £70, plus a pattern gasket set at £30.

When I stripped the starter clutch I found broken return springs - the answer to my starting problems, I figured, so I ordered them as well. While I was waiting for the bits to arrive I took the false tank and side panels off and had them resprayed for £20. I also painted the frame and cleaned up the rest of the bike. I replaced all the rusty nuts and bolts with chrome ones from Custom Fasteners, along with an Allen screw set for the engine. After a week the engine was rebuilt and replaced in the frame.

The bike sat there looking good until I started her up there was lots of steam coming out of the exhausts and the oil was turning milky. Shit, here we go again, I thought, more money down the drain. I found out that the water pump mechanical seal had burst and flooded the engine with water, so I had to buy a complete water pump at £60. After cleaning out the engine and fitting the new pump the engine started and ran OK.

After a day or two with no problems and thinking things were looking up, the starting problem reappeared and the bike became so unreliable that I became embarrassed at asking people to push 600lbs of metalwork and decided to put the bike off the road. I ordered a complete starter clutch at £60 and left the bike in the back garden. By the time the parts arrived the bike was submerged under a foot of snow. I was becoming really pissed off with the whole endeavour and began to wonder if I would ever get out on the bloody thing.

Two weeks later the snow melted and with a mate removed the engine (dab hand at it now) and replaced the clutch - problem solved. The bike ran well and I used it for a few weeks without any faults occurring. I then decided to replace the brake hoses with braided ones and found that the front caliper bleed nipples were rusted in and eventually had to buy a pair of used calipers for £40. Then the centre stand snapped £30 for a new one and a right pig to replace.

I was becoming used to the bike and it went OK except for using a bit of oil, which, I suppose, was only to be expected from an engine with a high mileage. As it was nearing spring I decided to fit some panniers and a top-box ready for some long runs when the decent weather arrived (I'm still waiting). I also fitted a set of engine bars which I had picked up from the breakers for £10. Next thing was to fit a fairing, which involved fitting the fairing frame to the bike, then the headlamp and extending the wiring. All went smoothly except that I was running out of daylight and went to the pub intending to fit the rest the next day.

The next morning I woke up at seven, climbed out of bed, looked out of the window something missing - me soddin' bike's been nicked. I went outside to find my large chain with a smashed padlock and an iron bar nearby. I phoned the police and went off to work thinking that me and bikes don't mix and that I should stick to cars. At eleven the police came to tell me they had found the bike only a mile away. The wiring was ripped out, the ignition switch wrecked and the instruments smashed.

After joining up a few wires I was able to drive it home. Three weeks later I had fitted a new switch, rewired the front end and replaced the instruments (at a cost of £70), then finally completed fitting the fairing. I was, beginning to have faith in the bike, taking it on ever increasing lengthy runs, when it died on me. After limping home on what appeared to be three cylinders, I discovered that the head gaskets were blown and the bike was off the road again while I removed the heads and got them skimmed and purchased two head gaskets at £12 each.

After another week off the road the bike was running again, but by then I had lost all confidence in the machine. I had found it quite nice to ride when it was running OK, although the mass made it a bit of a pig to throw through country lanes, even if the relative low centre of gravity made it surprisingly easy to throw through town traffic. The suspension was shot and apparently wasn't taut from new, so I'll leave you to imagine some of the tricks it could get up to over bumpy going. But the motor had a nice slug of power and the thing would cruise serenely along at anything up to 90mph.

But when the radiator started to leak I decided to get rid of it. I reckon the bike was just worn out, and more and more small problems would keep cropping up. I had the bike for six months, spent £600 on it, wasted god knows how many hours on it, and only did 2000 miles - not exactly value for money. I traded it in for a new VT500 and it's great not to have to work on it every day. But it's not what I really want and am already looking at those Evolution Harleys.

Martin Sleep

 

Honda CM250

I have a confession to make. For reasons that seemed to make sense at the time - yes, I needed to transport all my worldly goods between various digs several times a year and being fed up with my Yammy 100 -  I ran a Reliant for several years. Eventually, in early 1983, I came to my senses and decided to replace it - the fact that it was falling apart about my ears had almost nothing to do with this.

Just before this, the DOT had decided the only way to keep learners from killing themselves was to restrict them to 125cc or under, so suddenly there were 250s all over the place, being knocked down at ridiculous prices as people tried to stay mobile. I eventually came up with an X-reg CM250T being sold locally that only had 4500miles on the clock and was in good nick.

I have now ridden it for over four years, it’s got 45000 miles on the clock and it still looks quite good unless you start inspecting it closely. It also still runs alright, considering that maintenance has been minimal. I’m rather surprised having heard stories of Hondas that fall apart if they get wet or have more than 5000 miles on the clock.

Handling is quite good given that the high bars call for a very upright riding position, and even with knackered suspension at both ends it’s still possible to bottle out half way round a corner and not go straight through a hedge. Much better, of course, to just lay it down a bit more. This despite the mass which feels very close to my mate’s GS550. The chunky back wheel (5.00 x 16) only just fits between the forks and puts lots of rubber in contact with the road.

When I got it, both wheels had lethal and ought to be illegal Nip tyres. These were in very good condition, hardly any signs of wear and looked good for thousands of miles. I replaced them after the first journey, I never want another trip like that one. I’ve been using Avons since then, a front Roadrunner and rear SM Mk3. These don't last as well as the Jap ones but at least I’m still breathing.

The infamous Honda electrics were well in evidence on this bike - for a long time it used to stop in heavy rain as soon as the revs dropped. I had to keep the revs up around eight grand to keep it running, but this becomes a bit tricky if you have to stop in a hurry. Once it had stopped, it would either flatten the battery or tire my legs out before starting again. However, waiting 5 minutes and then hitting the button would have it running fine - but only for another mile or so. Eventually the rectifier packed in completely and once replaced with a cheapo component the problem didn’t reoccur for a couple of years.

I thought the same thing was happening last winter, but found the problem was tracking when I was fiddling with the spark plug whilst barrelling down a very wet road - the electrical shock convinced me that the caps were no good and replacing them solved everything. The only other reoccurring problem was the front disc, which gets full of shit and becomes harder and harder to operate until eventually the piston won't move at all. Leaving the bike parked on the road where it was sprayed by the grit sprayer every night probably didn’t exactly help matters.

I’ve been expecting trouble with the camchain tensioner for several months, that being the last time I adjusted it. Adjustment on the CM consists of the good old Honda method of slackening off the restraining nut and letting the good old Oriental magic do its work. When I last tried it nothing moved. Following the advice of my local shop I pushed the spring down with a screwdriver as far as it would go and then re-tightened the nut, which they said would do the trick for a while. 4000 miles later it's beginning to sound like loose change again; it will soon need a new camchain. 45000 miles is probably a good mileage for chain life, but I'd wish it’d gone at some other times as finances are somewhat desperate.

All in all, the bike’s getting a little tacky now - little things keep going wrong. Like the start button dropping out on my way to work recently, so I'm bump starting it - luckily I live on a hill (actually, if you live in Bath it’s difficult not to live on a hill). The indicator bleepers stopped working years ago, thank god, and the side panels are held on with wire as the little plastic lugs broke off. Some toe-rag stole the one panel as well as the tool kit and both mirrors. I’ve replaced the panel and mirrors with stuff from a breaker - but it isn’t easy to find CM items as there aren't many around.

I was first pointed in the direction of the breakers when I was stopped by one of the traffic lads on a BMW who found that I’d filtered down the offside of the traffic at a speed much greater than he thought safe. After discussing my current life expectancy he pointed out that I'd have seen him coming if I had mirrors. I informed him that someone ripped them off and I hadn't had time to buy some new ones. After suggesting that I buy some mirrors, he let me off the other offences with a warning - such suggestions which, of course, I intend to follow.

I've enjoyed riding the CM, it has has a good feel to it, corners well and moves quickly enough for me most of the time. I tend to do mainly local trips for most of the time, but often do 90 mile jaunts down the Wye valley those winding border roads seem made for bikes and I get hyped up on adrenalin before I’m finished.

It’s amazing how often people think the bike’s a 400, must be the back wheel and large tank, although lots of 400 spares do fit. With the upright riding position and ageing engine I don’t try to cruise at over sixty now, max top speed l've seen has been an indicated 95mph, which is also the point at which an interesting weave starts. Fuel consumption runs at 60mpg around town and about 70 on long runs; it used to do about 10mpg better. The fact that it no longer has stock exhausts might have something to do with it, but who can afford those crazy prices? I'm looking out for a GS550 to replace the Honda, but the CM's a nice bike if you can find one in good condition

Tony Pratt