Despatches: Shit City on a Honda XBR500

I picked up an early '86 XBR500 for one purpose - to ride for a year as a despatch rider in London (although after a year's existence as a DR, I could well appreciate the editors choice of terminology for our glorious capital, Shit City - had he, I wondered, suffered at the hands of psychotic taxi drivers, slimy roads and bored pigs?). The Honda had five thou on the clock and came straight from the cosseted hands of some old codger who complained that it didn't have the same character as his 500 Velo, a device that sat menacingly alongside the Honda in his garage, dripping oil and smelling of burnt oil and overheated metal. Anyway, I handed over twelve hundred quids worth of dirty fifty pound notes after a brief test ride revealed the Honda as a stable, vibratory and quite rapid motorcycle.

During the first few hours as a short haul London despatcher, a couple of faults became apparent. Firstly, the damn engine would cut out if I didn't blip the throttle to keep the revs above 2000rpm. I solved this by getting the engine to tickover at 1600rpm, but this sent. quite fierce vibes through the chassis. And secondly, the flat bars were too low and too far forward for town riding, not just hurting my arms and wrists but making the reasonably light clutch a pain to operate frequently. The gearbox made few objections to clutchless changes once three grand was on the tacho. After two weeks, or 1200 miles to you, I became used to the riding position. I also fitted one of those platinum tipped spark plugs, which I knew from the past gave a lower tickover speed. And it more or less worked, only when the engine is really caned and used all day without respite does it start stalling at traffic lights.

I'm not some spotty youth who screws the engine to the redline at every opportunity, my riding style has developed over ten years into a fairly smooth operation that . takes into account traffic conditions. Although I don't hang about waiting behind queues of cars, I also try to avoid the more crazed cutting up of autos that some other DRs like to indulge in. Thus in one year's riding I didn't fall off or hit any other vehicles, although there were several close encounters. Part of my survival was because the Honda was so stable, narrow enough to emerge through ridiculously small gaps unscathed and had enough feedback from tyres and brakes to avoid the consequences of slides on wet roads. I'd also ridden the Honda over some of the most rutted roads I've come across in many years.

There are two other advantages to a relatively relaxed riding style - I may not be as fast as some of the youths but I have much better stamina and can work longer hours, and it maximises the fuel economy of any particular bike. Most of the other DRs appear to get 45-50mpg out of their XBRs, whilst I average 60mpg. On some occasions I've even approached 70mpg, a figure that was once commonplace for British twins of similar size and performance, so while just about acceptable it's nothing Jap engineers should be proud of.

The single cylinder engine boasts four valves per cylinder, massively over square dimensions (92x75mm), 9:1 compression ratio, gear primary drive and a relatively small gear driven balance shaft. Max power is developed at 7500rpm, although once past 2500rpm there's quite enough urge even in top gear to make dropping down through the box optional. The engine buzzes throughout the rev range, but it's mild enough to fade into the background after you've ridden the bike for a few months. Only when you jump onto a middleweight four does the Honda's vibratory nature become apparent. Beyond six grand the nature of the vibration changes with the urgency of the exhaust; it'll leave both feet and hands tingling after twenty minutes.
In the 35000 miles I covered nothing fell off or failed due to the vibration, so it was never that bad.

Engine maintenance is limited to checking valve clearances (actually altered three times) and changing oil and filter (750/1500 miles respectively and yes, I am paranoid about Jap bearing surfaces, even if the dry sump lubrication system should negate some of worst effects of Jap engines on oil the recommended mileages for oil changes are dangerously optimistic in my opinion). The single carb hasn't been touched save for idle adjustments.

Why such a light and low powered bike should go through rear tyres in 8000 miles is quite beyond my comprehension. I've tried Dunlops and Michelins, and now am hopeful of the new Roadrunner. That the drive chain only lasts 12000 miles, can, I suppose, be explained by the rough power delivery of the single cylinder engine. At 32000 miles I had to buy a new set of sprockets. Front disc pads last for just 5000 miles (but this does include a hell of a lot of stop-start riding) and rear drum shoes for around 16000 miles. This combination of brakes has been excellent - and I've only had to strip the caliper down once - surely a record for Honda.

The exhaust system was a rusted wreck by 15000 miles. But I took it off, cleaned it up, welded up the holes, painted it black and got another 10000 miles out of it. I didn't want to buy a non-original system because I figured the engine was too highly tuned to benefit from adjustments to the airflow, so I paid fifty quid to a breaker for a system off a nearly new bike. This is soon due for replacement. Haven't Honda heard of stainless steel?

The only fault with the motor was the electric starter, which failed at 22500 miles. Again, a visit to the breaker solved that problem. Running the Honda through the nastiness of our ten month winter soon turned the alloy wheels a horrible shade of white and various bits of frame rusty - but it's not that difficult to clean up with a bit of elbow grease.

In my year's despatching (and I've now quit), the Honda never let me down, was reasonably cheap to run (I got the money spent on buying the Honda back in less than one month's work) and was also, rare for a Jap bike, very safe to ride in the awful weather inflicted on Shit City. That said, one guy had his blow up with 22000 miles on the clock (but he probably didn't know you had to change the oil) and lots of people seer to be selling theirs with very low mileages. I'm keeping mine for weekends and long trips. I'm going to put some spoked wheels with drum brakes and a s/s exhaust on it just for kicks...

Charles Borland

 

Honda XBR500

My Suzuki DR125 had to go after 9000 miles of trouble free biking. I had passed my test, found that motorcycling was an addictive hobby, and not just cheap transport, and I also needed something to cope with the motorways. A £300 Honda RS250 with 11000 on the clock lasted me through the next few months and 12000 miles, but the top-end started to become noisy, so it was time to consider a real bike.

After weeks of studying various road tests in current and back number magazines, I had narrowed the choice to either a BMW R65 or a Honda XBR500. They both seemed to offer similar torquey performance, reasonable economy, ease of maintenance, and a fairly compact, lightweight package to match my compact and lightweight self. It was a difficult decision, the Beemer having a build quality and comfort advantage, whilst the XBR would be cheaper to buy and a bit more sporty.

The XBR won, and I started phoning around the local dealers for a good second hand one. The West Midlands had no such machine, and I ended up phoning Nick Jeffries in Yorkshire. Yes, he had two, and to my amazement offered to bring them both down to Birmingham for me to look at. One look convinced me. Although the black one had covered 4000 miles against the red one's 2000, the former had fork gaiters, foam grips, a mudflap on the front guard, and a neat GIVI rack. I also noted that the tyres on both bikes were worn to the same extent. I deduced that the guy who'd owned the black one was the more considerate owner. Anyway, it looked better than the garish red.

Such was my enthusiasm for the bike, I instantly gave up smoking, which would partly square my conscience for the HP agreement I had just signed. On with my gear, and off for my first ride. The torque felt impressive after smaller capacity bikes, and the lack of revs needed to propel the bike was very deceptive. Only regular inspection of the speedo kept me legal (although the next day I picked up my first speeding ticket) and after a few miles I was convinced I had made a wise choice. A few more miles and I was looking for a fag shop, the thought of what lay ahead was getting to me. Only the pain in my wrists and shoulders concerned me as I headed for the local test track (or A38 as the police insist on calling it).

As my speed increased the pain melted away, and by 70mph I was well cushioned by the wind. By eighty my helmet was trying to go into orbit, so I tucked in nice and low, opening the throttle to the stop. I have never been one to avoid cliches, and the bike really did feel glued to the road. Only the sight of a rapidly closing roundabout spoilt the pure pleasure of my first incursion into three figure biking, and without thinking, I sat up to knock off some speed.

The effect on my arms and helmet was a complete surprise, and although largely unseen, thanks to the lower half of my helmet, I negotiated the hazard with little real drama. The XBR was unmoved by the incident. The remainder of the ride convinced me that either I was quite a good rider or that Honda had made a bike equally capable of blasting down straights as it was round corners. It almost feels even more secure on long, fast bends as it does on the easier bits, as if there was more rubber’ making contact with the ground when it's leant over.

I was really enjoying what, for me, was a new experience - power, 44hp in the brochure or 38hp on the dyno is very modest even when pushing a lean and light motorcycle, but for me it meant I could overtake most things in top gear, carry a passenger at motorway speeds even against headwinds or plonk along to my heart's content down rural lanes.

Although by no stretch of the imagination could I be considered a head banger, I do have the occasional moments of gay abandon when the XBR is redlined through the gears. I defy anyone but the most avid techno freaks not to be turned on by the sound of the exhaust. The steady thump of moderate revs transforms to an aggressive bark as they rise to the red end of the tacho. Music to a mature biker's ears.

In top, the Honda is geared to 15mph per thousand revs, and it will pull 40, 60, 80 and 100mph in the lower gears without getting too much blood on the needle. Once the clock has 2500rpm up, it'll pull cleanly to the redline. Vibration is apparent, but not in the mirrors and my pillion's more delicate rump complains occasionally after sustained 85mph cruising, which is as much as my neck muscles can cope with.

I have covered 6000 miles in the last three months, and feel none of the discomfort in my wrists and shoulders that my first town riding brought on. The OE tyres were replaced at 7000 miles by Dunlop Arrowmaxes, the front pads were on the metal by 6500 miles, and now with 10,000 on the clock, the chain is looking a bit iffy. I change the oil every thousand miles and the filter every two thou, which is about twice as often as recommended by Honda. In return, the bike has taken me, a pillion, tons of camping gear, to the Lake District twice, Cornwall for a weekend, and a number of trips just for the hell of it, as well as providing me with everyday transport.

Although I am actually enjoying the new muscles in my upper body from the riding position and allied wind blast, I think I will fit a sports fairing and some hard luggage when funds permit. Overall, the bike gives between 50 and 60mpg of two star, depending on how I exercise the right wrist, although it's quite easy to average 55mpg.

Perhaps, like its owner, the XBR is a little schizophrenic, for it will plonk along all day like a vintage tractor, yet turn into a mildly enraged bull and charge on a surge of torque as the mood takes it (or the rider). I like the bike a lot, even its functional lines and bulbous petrol tank, but most of all, for those like me rapidly approaching forty, it sounds like a proper bike. Nostalgia is a terrible thing.

John Hodgett

 

Suzuki GS450

If all of you experienced, mechanically minded riders are expecting to find lots of detailed specifications, you had better go out and buy yourselves a Haynes ’cos you won't get any in my article. You see, I am one of the rare breed of female bikers (hi Bill) and I don’t know a crankwhatsit from a tappet, but I do know what I like.

I’ve only been riding bikes for three years and passed my test on a C70. The following week I was the proud owner of a Honda CD200, purchased for me by my husband (you are wrong, he does love me). You can all stop groaning but he had one and I could handle it OK and we didn’t have much cash. I rode this bike, nick named The Bear, for just over a year before I began to long for something faster and bigger that the local lads wouldn’t take the micky out of. My husband took me round all the bike shops and the BMF rally, looking for something suitable, but I have a problem in that I’m a bit small.

I weigh 8 stone and am just 5’2" making many bikes out of the question due to their size. I wouldn’t be seen dead on a chopper and have this perverse desire to actually be able to put my feet down when I stop, so I had to look for something smallish. Eventually I found the GS450. It was only one year old with 5000 miles on the clock, all the services up to date and only £1000 from a colleague of my husband. The previous owner was a lady and I never did find out why she let Paul have it so cheap! I had a test ride - well, two circuits round the playground, and that was that. I had never wanted anything so desperately in my life. The bike gleamed, just sheer beauty on wheels, and rode as smooth as silk.

This was Friday night. Monday saw me sitting in front of my bank manager begging for a loan for a conservatory (you get tax relief on home improvements). The good chap gave me the cash and the Suzi was all mine. My husband took me to fetch the bike on his ETZ250. He turned the Suzi around in the drive, I jumped on, knocked it into first gear and off we went. Never in my life will I forget that first 20 minute ride. It was thrilling, exciting and exhilarating. We went out onto the dual carriageway, I flicked up through the six speed gearbox and suddenly I was soaring along at over 80mph. Looking in the two rear mirrors I could see the ETZ valiantly trying to keep up. Denim jacket flying, lips clamped to keep his teeth from shaking out, his MZ rattled and shook whilst the GS was just gliding along, smooth and quiet.

The way the bike reacted to a quick flick of the throttle was quite frightening for me because it leapt forward like a rocket, something which I had never experienced on the Benly. It was also so quiet and smooth that 90mph felt like 40mph. Now, on the CD we are talking basic, like two wheels and an engine, but the Suzi seems quite sophisticated, with rev counter, 12 volt electrics, decent indicator and headlight switches. There is also a gear change panel which is necessary when riding in town and any other circumstances that require frequent use of the box.

I decided that the only way to become used to the new bike was to go off for the day, so Tuesday morning saw me packing the panniers with sandwiches and cans (only lemonade officer and heading off on a 250 mile trip. Not long after I set out I couldn’t work out why I could hear a low flying aircraft but not see it. I eventually worked out that it was the noise of the engine when I shut down the throttle. I went along the A1 in fine style. I had only ever managed about 75mph on the old Benly but now I could cruise at 90mph and tank along in the fast line doing an indicated 103mph (isn’t it surprising how quickly you can become addicted to speed).

Even at 100mph the bike only turned over at 6500rpm in top gear and thanks to the engine counter balancer the DOHC twin didn’t vibrate. In fact, there were no vibes, shakes or rattles at all. I soon found that the engine braking was damn good, shut off the throttle and in 30 feet the bike loses 25-30mph without the tell-tale red light showing lurking police cars that you’ve lost speed. As I had a licence with a speeding endorsement still smouldering on it, I thought that this was great.

Having tried the bike out on the straight I decided to put it to the test on the bendy bits and decided to pull off the A1 at Grantham to see my mum. I did quite a lot of riding around the town centre before heading out into the lanes and I was really pleased with the way the bike sat on the road. Cornering was no problem - no jumping or bouncing about, but as I have never had much desire to scrape my footrests on Mr McAdam’s invention, I can only vouch for cornering up to about 50mph.

Although the Suzi is longer and heavier than the CD I found no problem in nipping in and out of the S bends and tight corners that Lincolnshire seems so fond of. The outward journey was made in bright sunshine. The return journey was not. It persistently rained all the way home. This was the first rain in over two weeks and the road wore the kind of delicate, slippery surface that takes bikers unaware, especially on corners. I was somewhat wary at first but the bike handled just as well in the wet as the dry, so I ignored the weather and hammered on. I found that the bike still held the corners and the lights were very good in the gloom. When I first tried the bike I thought the riding position seemed to have a long reach but over a long distance it was actually very comfortable, as was the seat, unlike the old Benly.

After a trip of 250 miles on the Suzi the only things wrong with me were sore wrists due to the extra weight, no voice because travelling at those speeds had caused wind resistance on my helmet and chin strap, and I was also extremely tired. I think that was due to the sheer concentration from being on a new bike and trying to make sure no idiot car drivers came near enough to spoil my pristine paintwork.

At first, I found the mass to be very uncomfortable and inconvenient. At 386lbs it weighs nearly 100lbs more than my Benly. Now that I’m accustomed to the weight I find it merely inconvenient. I always need to pull up exactly where I want to stop as I have great difficulty wheeling it about. One day I stupidly parked it nose into the curb on a camber and couldn’t move it out, but a very nice man responded to my "Please Mister" and big brown eyes, and a very kind young skinhead came to my rescue when I left my bike in the parking lot returning to find it surrounded by mopeds and Vespas (I don’t want equality, I like to be fussed and pampered and looked after).

Although I love my bike there are a few things that I don’t like about it. One is that there is no kickstart, only electric. On cold mornings this can be a bit of a bugger but, like all bikes, you soon find the right knack. On the Suzi this seems to be to have the choke wide open, touch the electric start button with no throttle, let it tick over for about 30 seconds, then gently open the throttle. If you open up too soon the carb empties and the engine fluffs.

I also had a problem with the left carb. Because I only ever put the bike on the side stand, the left carb kept flooding until the float height was altered. Another dislike is the rear shocks, even on the hardest it’s less effective than knicker elastic. The front mudguard is also badly designed and water shoots straight onto my shins. Although the engine isn’t the same as the older Suzuki twins having a plain crank instead of the previous roller bearing job, I’m assured by those in the know that the engine should be tough and reliable, despite the cams running in the alloy head, just so long as I change the oil every 1500 miles instead of the 5000 recommended by Suzuki.

The power delivery is quite versatile, the bike can pull 30mph at less than 2000rpm in sixth and true top speed is around 105mph. As I’m thirty and quite like the idea of being 31, I think I can live with this speed happily enough. The brakes on the Suzi are a major improvement over the Benly (it was easier to run someone or something down than apply the brakes on the CD) and the single front disc and rear drum work well in most conditions, as the little boy who leapt out in front of the Suzi in Coldham can testify.

The insurance is £164 fully comp., which I can’t afford or £61 TPFT which I can. I average 65mpg regardless of speed or mass. With 7000 on the clock it’s still on the original tyres, although it’ll need a new one on the back soon. To sum up, I feel my Suzi is well worth the money - I was recently offered £ 1300 for it.

It’s efficient, durable, flexible and economical and one hell of a lot of fun. It’s also been pretty foolproof. For instance, I suddenly found a straight turned into a corner whilst bowling along at 85mph, I pulled in the clutch, dropped two gears and let the clutch out, promptly locking up the back wheel - however, a quick flick of the right hand and the bike pulled itself back together. The local lads think I’m a bit of a hero and the ladies think I’m eccentric, and I shall forever love my husband for picking up the repayments.

Lorraine Johnson

 

Honda CB650

"That's it," I thought, or rather tried to think above the din of the engine, "It's got to go." The problem at the time, as I recall, was the GSX250 definitely wasn't going quickly enough. Trying to negotiate some of the hills coming out of Bath was an extremely frustrating experience. Throttle firmly against the stop, engine sounding like a Stuka dive bomber, the bike still couldn't produce enough power to pull the skin off a rice pudding. Mind you, it was only a 250, and I was carrying a passenger. Nevertheless the whole trip down to Dorset had been plagued by a gradually fading or wilting engine.

On the outward leg, screaming down the M1, exhaust noise suddenly became more pronounced. A quick inspection in a service car park revealed a large hole where one of the baffles should have been; we decided to avoid the motorway on the return journey, and travel at less than max revs.

To be fair to the Suzuki I realised all was not well in the engine department before we set off. I'd spent weeks trying to get something like an even tick-over - checking valve clearances, float level height, air filter, all to no avail. It suddenly dawned on me when I was struggling up yet another incline, that one or more valves were not sealing as the engine designer had intended. So much for super high tech, eight valve heads. The bike had not yet clocked up 8000 miles.

On initial acquaintance the Suzuki was nippy enough to see off a friend's RD250 on top speed (sure, sure - Ed) and around corners. Now, with shot silencers and ropey top end, it was but a pale shadow of its former self. I'd bought it with only 3000 miles on the clock, religiously changing the oil and oil filter, and maintaining the bike. I felt both cheated and disappointed. The words of the salesman still haunted me - these new generation 250s will soon make bigger bikes obsolete and unnecessary. I wish I could have done the same thing to him.

All I could think of was a bigger bike. One big and handsome CB650 in particular, sitting provocatively in the window of the local dealer. In my usual altruistic fashion I'd already subconsciously taken the decision to try to off load the bag of nails I was coaxing back home onto the dealer in part exchange for the Honda.

One week later - enough time for me to recover from the above journey - I was haggling for a decent part exchange price for the GSX against the Honda. I'd already held my breath, crossed fingers and toes, while the young man took the Suzuki around the back for a quick medical. My exhalation of relief, when he said all was in order, must have been audible the other side of town. What about shot silencer and lumpy tick-over? Strange, very strange. Needless. to say, I still continued to haggle. He was willing to offer £450 against £900 for the Honda take it or leave it.

That was the year of the new learner law, consequently 250s were selling like pork chops in Jerusalem. So I guess I had to take it. Visions of simultaneously machine gunning and impaling the previous dealer loomed up before my glazed eyes. But all thoughts of vengeance subsided when one week later, after its free dealer service, I sat astride the. Honda listening contentedly to the happy burbling of its even tick-over.

The Honda was 18 months old, had 10000 miles on the clock, and looked like a million dollars. To my eyes it was far better looking than the Kawa 650 (I was blissfully unaware as to its quality as a machine to ride). The Honda came from that early seventies school of Jap motorcycle style, CB750, Z1, etc. A style sadly lacking in today's anonymous diet of plastic clad, cloned lookalikes. I mean it even had the odd area of chrome, for goodness sakes.

First impressions were of weight and bulk, compared to the Suzuki. It didn't handle as well as the Suzuki or a BSA A65 I once had the, er, pleasure of owning. However, it was quite smooth and in a straight line extremely rapid, right up to an indicated 120mph. But it didn't have much low down stomp, the engine acting quite highly strung and making most of its power around 7000 to 8000rpm. I know that this is par for the course for many Jap bikes, but I still can't get used to the need to rev the nuts off an engine to make it shift with any useful degree of rapidity

In three years of ownership the Honda proved to be relatively reliable. Main problem areas were front brake calipers, fork seals, exhausts and soggy suspension. Standard of finish was generally good. By regularly boiling the chain in lube I managed to get just over 10000 miles on new chain and sprockets. Rear tyre lasted 7000 miles, front 12000 miles.

The front discs on my machine were fine as ornaments to adorn the forks, as for stopping - forget it. Without loving care the pistons would seize. Once, when changing the original pads, I had to drill out the retaining pins. Moral grease retaining pins. Pads last for huge mileages - not surprising considering the performance of the brakes.

The front forks suffered from seals that went at regular intervals, but this didn't exactly make all that much difference because there wasn't much damping in the first place, but I did cure the problem by fitting fork gaiters. If the brakes had worked they would have probably dived quite viciously, the ability to absorb bumps disappeared over really bumpy roads, but generally the ride was quite smooth without being too remote.

On the advice of someone who owned a CB400 I adjusted the camchain tensioner every few hundred miles - no slack, no stretch, he argued. It seemed to work as the camchain was still good at 30000 miles when I sold the bike. Unlike the Kawa 650, the Honda valves have screw adjusters and are relatively easy to service - the gaps didn't vary very often.

The engine is based on the old CB500 and can be quite fragile if really thrashed - everything from the clutch, gearbox, crank, cams, pistons, etc can wear out rapidly. But given regular servicing and frequent oil changes, together with reasonable treatment, the Honda fairs quite well. And it is a very straightforward unit to look after.

By 20000 miles the FVQ shocks were doing a good impression of a pair of pogo sticks. I bought some leaky S & W Street Strokers from a breaker for £20 - they were still much better than the OE shocks. I also had to replace the starter solenoid, £8 from the same breaker. The original exhausts, believe it or not, lasted till 25000 miles. I got away with welding one and replacing the other with a better second hand one. I'm convinced that the sweetness and reliability of the engine had a lot to do with running the bike on original exhausts. The gear change is very slick, but watch out for play in the rear set linkage. Also watch out for rounded off oil filter housing retaining bolts. The bike can cruise between 80 and 90mph, two-up. Steering ain't as precise as a Z650, GS550 or 750. But it has regularly out handled a friend's XJ900, although that probably isn't very much of an achievement.

The condition of the engine will depend very much on who's owned it and how they have treated it. It's not as resilient as a Suzi or Kawa four, but then it is simpler and a lot cheaper. Although not very popular, I enjoyed my 20000 miles with the Honda and was only subverted by the sight of an old BSA A65, which is another bike that never captured the public's imagination but still has some very worthy characteristics under the skin.

Gerald Sturdy

 

Yamaha XJ600

I bought my XJ600 as a crashed bike under the misapprehension that I could do a quick cosmetic job and have a low mileage bike on the road for a minimum of notes. It didn’t quite work out like that. The tank was dented, the front forks bent and the fairing scratched. None of that was any great problem - a bit of filling and painting dealt with the cosmetics, whilst the forks were straightened for fifteen notes. In fact, in a week I had a bike back together that didn’t look like it had ever been in a crash (from a distance, anyway).

Self congratulation rapidly evaporated when I connected the bike up to my car battery - the starter didn’t work. Trying to turn the engine over revealed that it was locked up solid. After I’d stripped down the bike, removed the motor and the cylinder head, I found out that the pistons were locked solid in the barrel. The guy had obviously fallen off because the motor seized up.

It took me a week to track down a breaker with a stripped motor - I paid forty notes for a set of pistons that required extensive cleaning but were basically sound. A long weekend, and everything was back together. Pressing the starter button for five minutes resulted in some encouraging noises, then she coughed out some black fumes, then the motor ran. Hurray!

Elation disappeared when I realised that the cams weren't going to stop clattering and the fumes weren't going to clear up. It eventually ere that the only thing low mileage about the XJ I'd bought from the breakers was the clock! Both cams were well worn and the cylinder head wasn't flat. Seventy notes for a used complete head was the least expensive way I could find to fix that.

Anyway, I eventually pulled it all back together and got the thing to run properly. Then my problems really began. On my first ride everything went completely dead - when I was sixty miles away it died on me. The battery was dead. I assumed it was knackered from standing around. I actually bought a new one for thirty quid. But it turned out that the alternator wasn't charging. Another £35 for rewinding. Of course, the rectifier was burnt out as well; five quid for a car one took care of that.

The XJ was becoming very expensive and I was seriously considering selling it before anything else happened. This was a pity because it was great fun to ride. I found the suspension and chassis contributed to a very taut feel and it was dead easy to chuck through the bends and stable in a straight line. And the motor had a great gob of power around six grand that gave a lovely kick in the pants at about eighty.

It has one of those useful motors that punch out reasonable power at low revs, it'll potter along without giving offence, but wring the balls off the motor and it'll shift like someone's sneaked some nitro into the cylinders. For a lot of the time I just used it for commuting back and forth to work. In that mode it'll do around 60mpg, this dropped to as little as 40mpg if I used all of the 130mph performance, which I only managed on early morning motorway jaunts.

For an old style multi with two valves/cylinder and no water cooling, the XJ’s ability to cruise along at 100mph is quite astonishing. It only shows its age with the intrusive secondary vibes beyond 80mph, but as an old Brit bike owner this doesn’t really bother me. In fact, the XJ has the same kind of taut feel as many of the better old British bikes (some of the bad ones make the worst of the Japs feel good to ride) with the bonus that the suspension soaks up a lot more bumps than the British stuff.

I'd actually put 3000 miles on the bike when it started to wobble above 75mph. The monoshock linkages were shot and grabbing the end of the swinging arm showed half an inch of movement. More money down the drain. No sooner had I fixed that than the chain was shot - I hoped it was just the chain causing the missed changes. I once spun the motor right past the redline when I fluffed a first to second change when I was trying to put a Golf GTi in its proper place. I had to really go for it to catch him up.

Beyond that magic six grand the motor sounds noisy and the exhaust takes on a GP growl (rusted baffles don’t help here) - | howled past the VW like it was standing still, and straight past a jam sarnie. Well, I wasn’t going to stop and say hello, so screwed it on some more and lost them before they could get going through the heavy traffic. One up for the XJ.

Another memorable ride was up some Welsh valleys in the company of a certified nutter on a GPz550, who didn’t appear to realise that the sheep were too dim witted to leap out of the way of crazed motorcyclists. You know the kind of thing, the bike’s into maximum lean in a hairpin bend, the bike over as far as it will go without scraping up the tarmac, with a huge drop on one side of the road, when suddenly the road is full of sheep. The twin discs are very useful in this kind of situation, as they kill the speed as effectively as hitting a brick wall.

Treated to vicious braking, the Yam tends to sit up a little bit and wants to go straight off the road - but it’s far from terminal because it only takes a little muscle on the handlebars to pull her back on line. Under very bad conditions - a bumpy road, far too much speed and an adverse camber - the rear wheel starts chattering when braking hard. But that’s it does, it doesn’t go bouncing off the road but stays exactly on line. This has only happened twice when the monoshock linkages have been in good condition so I shouldn't really complain.

The brakes have always been adequate when coping with the usual dumbo tin box drivers who wouldn't see a motorcyclist if he was wearing a flashing light on his helmet and waving a red flag. A dubious character who I occasionally give a lift has taken to whacking the roof or bonnet of cars that try to cut us up. On one occasion this irritated an Avenger driver so much that he swerved his car over to the wrong side of the road and tried to catch us up. Of course, he didn’t have much hope in such an old heap, but I led him on a little by holding back on the power until I saw the lights up ahead changing to amber and had to drop down a few gears to avoid a fight. I just went through as red came up, the Avenger must have cut up a lot of traffic to follow us. The guy must have been really crazy because he didn’t back off.

It wasn’t till I wound the bike up to the ton that he began to fall back. Up ahead I saw a cop car, so I had to brake hard - my passenger's weight shoved me right into the tank. The bike braked in a dead straight line and I pulled in a car behind the police. The Avenger hadn't a chance, he skidded past on the wrong side of the road and must have lost his licence at the very least - I thought it prudent to turn off into the back streets.

Although the brakes have enough power to lock up the front wheel, there is plenty of feel there to avoid that. They also work well in the wet with none of the dreaded delay. Some sponginess was removed by replacing the brake fluid and fitting Goodridge hoses. The rear disc isn't my favourite back brake but it does its job alright. The wheels are difficult to clean and pick up all the road dirt.. They also oxidize ridiculously easily, as do the forks, unpainted engine bits and carbs.

I can’t really comment on the paintwork as the bike was resprayed, although I’ve seen machines with more than 50k on the clock that still look good. The cute half fairing offers no protection to the hands but does throw the wind up and over my helmet, so it’s not just pretty. It does take a bit of the pressure off at 90mph plus speeds. The riding position is a brilliant compromise between town and motorway riding. The flattish bars and slightly rear set footrests are comfortable at high speeds and leave the bike easy to throw about in traffic, despite the somewhat overweight nature of the Yam. Those 460lbs and discs that stick on at walking speeds make it a real hernia inducing pig. Anyone for reverse gear?

Down own at the local drag strip (read deserted country road late at night) the XJ can shift off the line almost as fast as the GPz, only the graunching vibes when revving the engine in neutral dissuade me that this is a good idea. The clutch also starts slipping after a few wild starts, and it's apparently not all that strong a component, although I’ve never had any problems except when being very silly.

I quite often think that I should sell the bike, take my profit (much reduced from what I expected and likely to disappear if there’s any new heavy expenses) and buy something bigger. But then I go for a ride down my favourite fast roads and recall just how awful were some of the bikes I’d owned in the past or just how much effort they needed to maintain the XJ’s speed or handling finesse. Then I recall just how easy it is to pay top money for a real dog and decide I'd better stick with the XJ - better the devil you know.

I think the XJ has the basics dead right, re: performance and handling. I'd like to see it lose fifty pounds, have a stainless steel exhaust, a drum rear brake, some Astralite wheels, a slightly wider fairing for hand protection and a much better seat. The latter makes more than a 100 miles a great pain and my girlfriend really hates long distances, but the secondary vibes do turn her on for short distances.

Even my mate on the GPz550 was impressed by the way the Yam goes, so much so that he wants to buy it (he eventually wrote off the Kawa) if and when I decide to sell. You can't get a higher compliment than that. You'll probably have to hunt around to find one, but I think you'll find it well worth the effort.

Martin Field

Yamaha XS750SE

Having convinced my wife that I needed a new bike (as backup for work) and not having much cash (mortgage, etc.) I ended up at Motorcycle City in Reading, handing over £1386.70 in August ’82 for a new XS750SE. We travelled up by train, signed for the bike and didn’t take in very much that the salesman said - I forgot the lack of petrol, a few heart stopping tremors, much tap turning and a petrol stop later saw us off on the journey home to the West Country.

First reactions to this 750 triple were its mass and power re: a previous bike, a BSA B50SS, its smoothness and uncomfortable pillion seat. Typically, it was raining all the way home so I couldn't do much scratching, but I soon realised it handled like a camel and those high bars gave it a top heavy feel. The brakes didn’t work in the wet (despite the fact they had had lots of time to cure it) and even in the dry it was worrying because of the sponginess (I later bled them but it made no difference so it's down to crap caliper design and lack of braided hoses).

I was always worried about the small dimensions of the rear lamp, especially in fog, so to keep the cars away I fitted a rear fog light. The motor required precise setting of the choke - the lever also needed plenty of oil to keep the action smooth - just past first click position when cold. The switch was the usual Jap stuff that works well, whilst the clutch lever worn at its pivot and vibrated at speed in an annoying manner. The winkers were either self cancelling or could be shut off manually by pushing the button, but the only time I didn’t do it manually was on motorways, leave the indicators to their own devices and you’re likely to have a car hit you in retribution.

Not being into road racing, I dumped the rev counter and centrally mounted the speedo, something that added to the mystique, as the custom 750 triple was quite a rare device. After the first service I fitted gaiters front and rear, and within 3000 miles had fitted a new Roadrunner. At town speeds the high bars made manoeuvring impossible, and after rolling the Yam on its side one time whilst trying to park, I changed to a flatter bar.

I also pushed the forks up in the yokes an inch which helped stop the back wheel trying to overtake the front. I had already replaced the plug caps and sealed the HT leads with clear Instant Gasket, and the switches were sprayed with WD40 every so often, whilst exposed electrical connectors were smeared with Vaseline, so water would be no problem. By 8000 miles I had to fit a new rear tyre, so a Mk.2 Avon was bought, then the front went a few miles later and was replaced by an S-rated ribbed. A strange combination you may well think, but one that I found worked very well and was reassuring in most circumstances and whatever the weather.

At 12000 miles I had to fit a new shim to one of the valves, it was at this point that I realised that you shouldn't believe everything you read. I thought my maths was letting me down because after I fitted the new shim the valve clearance still wasn’t right. After buying a micrometer the problem was solved, the 2.70mm shim was actually 2.73mm, so always check.

At 16000 miles the brakes all required attention. The rear master cylinder had new rubbers, as did the front. The front calipers were seized up and were overhauled, fitted with new pads and bolts. Strangely, the caliper mounting bolts had to be replaced every 5000 miles because they kept bending - no-one could explain this and the lack of depth to the mounting holes dissuaded me from fitting HTS bolts.

I also needed to fit a new exhaust system. The stock system costs a laughable £310, so I bought a Motad. After hacking the old system off, I found the dealer had sold me a system for the standard model which wouldn’t fit the custom bike and the bike was off the road whilst I awaited the dealer to get his act together and order the correct system from Motad. Even this wasn’t perfect, needing exhaust compound when assembling to compensate for the sloppy fit of the components.

By 18000 miles I had to spend £12 on a new flasher unit. By 22000 miles I had fitted two new tyres and the primary chain was also replaced (£80) using a GT380 wheel spindle as a rotor puller. This turned out to be a simple enough job but I’d begun to feel that I would have to spend more and more money on the beast. The camchain was due for replacement and the original rear pads should have been replaced and the mudguards were getting rusty and...

Within a week I'd part exchanged the Yam for a low mileage R80RT. To sum up, it wasn’t a bad bike - very heavy (even by R80RT standards), it averaged 50mpg with a fair turn of a speed, it never let me down (although I did maintain it meticulously) and although handling with my sort of riding wasn’t too bad trying to miss a cow pat or drain cover on a fast bend could induce mass hysteria in following cars. It may well have lasted 50000 miles but I never did like blowing engines on the motorway.
Throw in those feebly mounted front anchors and self destruct clutch cables (10000 miles).

Service items are air filter £10, oil filter £6, V rated spark plugs £3 each. In five years of ownership I spent £500 on it, which includes service items, spares and a Krauser rack. It devalued by 50% even though I'd kept it in good condition, although I wouldn’t dream of keeping a machine any other way. It makes me wonder whether it pays to be so fanatical with maintenance in this throwaway age. If this machine had been given only very basic attention - just brakes and oil top ups, plus the odd clean to keep Mr Plod away, would it have been worth that much less? Dangerous thoughts, eh? So, if you go for one, get it cheap with low mileage, stick on an XJ750 front end and some sensible handlebars. Or go for the stock XS750/850, which has the same motor.

Paul Russell

 

Norton ES2

BGR926 had black mudguards, frame and seat, topped off by a silver petrol tank with tasteful red and black pinstripes - a real gentleman’s machine. It was a real shame that a spotty faced 16 year old thrasher was about to acquire that 1954 Norton ES2.

The spotty faced youth had passed his test within 2 months of being allowed to ride a motorcycle and was riding his Honda 50 flat out everywhere. However, 45mph down hill and 35mph up hill was not quite the speed required. The main stumbling block to speed or a larger machine was my low income as an apprentice diesel fitter - I could hardly buy a Triumph Daytona on that kind of money. To make matters worse, one of my friends insisted on giving me lifts on the back of a Ducati 160 Monza Junior at 70mph down the local High Street. I was impressed - so much power! Another chap I knew had a Vespa 180 Sport and his tales of 70-80mph had me a with envy.

The Honda 50 was sold and with the £45 I bought an ES2. With it came the original tool kit, the Pitman Book Of The Norton, and a copy of Motorcycles And How To Manage Them, by Ixion - real vintage stuff, great to read, though, if you get the chance.

Starting the 500 single was quite easy. Retard the ignition via the handlebar lever, flood the carb, ease it to TDC compression stroke, operate the decompressor, swing it over and bang, bang, bang. The bike felt unhurried, the first few runs I rarely exceeded 50mph. This was just as well as the brakes were very, very poor and stopping from as little as 30mph took ages so to exceed fifty the road had to be very clear.

The bike would rush up to fifty rather niftily but took a long time to reach a staggering 75mph top whack, on a 120mph speedo. At 70-75mph it felt like sitting on a pile driver - my arms vibrated, my head shook and it shed several nuts and bolts, cracked the mudguards, used loads of oil. At that time I was delighted with the bike, thinking that at those kinds of speeds this was just the normal reaction and that you just had to put up with it.

I'd thrashed the old girl for 3 weeks and the once quiet motor had a distinctive rattle from inside, getting louder each day. Life can be cruel. The engine was removed at work and stripped for a post mortem. Old Jim, 35 years a fitter, did the strip, finding a worn and cracked piston, loose mains and an endless list of other problems. Fortunately, everyone in work offered their help - the bearings were easily obtained, the piston came from a V-twin compressor, although it did need a bit of juggling as it had four piston rings. Some BMC valves were forced into the head. All the gaskets were made from rubber bonded asbestos. The Norton roller bearing big-end was discarded in favour of a large bush made up to replace it.

Two weeks later the old girl was running again. That four ring piston was a very tight fit in the bore, making the engine run hot. Even after 1000 miles it would still only just hit 65mph. However, it was smooth and on used a small amount of oil. One night, while out with some of the chaps, I approached a bend at about 45mph, found that it tightened up, braked but could not kill the speed quickly enough - a handy bush decided to stop the bike. I left the seat, preferring to fly through the air, landing in a field with a not so nice thump. The brakes were next on the list to fix.

New shoes and a cable improved the brakes no end - it only took 75 yards to stop from 30mph. These brakes make the things fitted to CD175s feel powerful. Both brakes were SLS drum and the only way to improve them is to fit the later Norton TLS item on the front or change the lining, although the latter is a lot of hassle and still doesn’t produce anything like modern stopping power.

Every Easter the firm I worked for held a dinner dance - a very formal affair where a quintet of ladies played harps and stuff. Great for a laugh, back then. My girlfriend and I arrived in full evening dress, after using the elegant ES2 as transport - I like to think that the ES2 was made for that sort of thing. On the way to the dance we were stopped by the police and accused of doing 100mph down the main road. The officer was obviously endowed with a great deal of intelligence - the ton on a 75mph bike in full evening dress - he let us off in the end.

One of the idiosyncrasies of old English bikes turned up on a run with a motley collection of scooters and motorbikes. We went off to Scotland for the weekend. The ES2 started out performing well, holding 65mph as we went through Otterbern heading for Jedburgh.

The roads were good to ride on, because there were lots of bends and the surface was smooth. I felt quite good as I owned the third fastest bike, only put in my place by a Yamaha YRS5 and a Lambretta 200 (yes a scooter, I hate to admit it, but we didn’t all beat each other up all of the time). We stopped for an half hour's tea break - a chance for both riders and machines to recover. I checked the oil level and was shocked to find the tank nearly empty. Off we go, and the poor old girl’s feeling very flat and smoking. After stopping to remove the oil cap, hot oil spurts out. One minute there’s no oil, the next there’s too much. I feel a little sick and confused - wet sumping I believe it’s called - all Nortons do it to some extent and if you fill the oil tank at the wrong moment in the cycle you'll end up with oil pouring out of all the engine joints.

Anyway the Norton manages to slog on up through the countryside with all the aplomb of an English Gentleman in his element, it’s the kind of bike that encourages the rider to take it nice and easy (OK, he can’t do much else with that kind of engine) and as long as it’s not pushed too hard, it'll thump along quite happily - after all, part of the venture was to admire the Scottish countryside and not just whizz through at maximum speed, ignoring everything except for the next few yards of tarmac.

We had a great weekend in Scotland, partly because we stayed in B&Bs rather than camping out in all weather. It really is much nicer to travel light and not have to load up the bike every morning with tons of gear. Also you have to remember that the stories about rain in Scotland are not exaggerated one iota and after a long hard day buggering about in the wet the last thing you want is to be turned away from some campsite. Scottish B&Bs are cheap and friendly.

One aspect of that Scottish trip that I'll always remember is when I'd actually got the old girl up to 70mph; blitzing her through the bends I suddenly found the brake lever back to the handlebars. PANIC. Hedgerows are very useful for stopping runaway Norton singles. At least the frame and forks were strong enough to take that kind of abuse without bending or snapping in half.

I'd read in Motorcycle, Scooter And Three Wheeler Mechanics that to obtain top speed on a 500 single you had to rev it hard in third on a flat stretch, preferably slightly down hill. If anything, | revved the Norton in second, into third, Bop-Bop -Bop, 50-55-60, then the revs rose but speed dropped off to 50mph then 45mph. No, the clutch wasn't slipping, it was valve float. 3000 miles after the rebuild the motor was becoming noisy again and using more and more oil. Where it had once topped seventy, it was down to a max of 55mph.

The strip down revealed worn main bearings and a cracked piston. Whether this was a result of the non-standard parts fitted or because the engine just didn’t like being thrashed, or a combination of both, | couldn't say.

The ES2 is a nice, simple, ride to work OHV single, that gets a bit ratty if you treat it bad. I’ve seen one recently advertised for £3000 which is just plain daft. If you want to experience the unique nature of an ES2, find a cheap one, use it as hard as you like till it fails then sell it, swap it for something else, or if the worst does happen then scrap it.

William Gould

Yamaha XV750 Virago

Ever wondered why so many bankers, stockbrokers, fruit machine attendants and trainee tax officers want to look like Hells Angels? Like hard lovin' dudes of the road. I have, and so probably did Mr Kawasaki when he decided to bolt on a teardrop tank, king & queen seat and silly handlebars to his beloved Z900, giving the world and his wife a new baby, the Z900Ltd. Of course, that was quite a few years ago and will only be recalled by those with long memories or serious students of motorcycle history.

At that time, many usually quite sane men-in-the-street type characters actually carried out similar modifications on their various Bonnies, Hondas and BSAs in order to achieve that self same badass look. All that Mr K did was to pre-empt their labours and simultaneously give birth to that ubiquitous beast the factory custom.

After the initial sniggers and jeers of derision (I'm still jeering - Ed) had died down the other Jap manufacturers realised that there might be some mileage in this concept after all, and pretty soon they were all at it. Some of the Yamaha and Kawasaki efforts were actually quite pleasant to look at [My arse - 2021 Ed.]. Suzuki and Honda obviously thought it was all a big joke at the time. All things considered, though, something was lacking: that essential degree of style; that elemental ruggedness; that (damn the torpedoes) Harley-ness. What was needed was a big lumpy V-twin engine in a hardtail frame. What we got was Yamaha's XV750.

The motor was naturally the centre of attention in this unique machine. Two biggish OHV cylinders spaced at 75° in that classic V-twin configuration. On the road it feels stable enough, giving a credible 60hp at 7000rpm. It will push past this red line in top if you're feeling a bit throttle happy, but expect large repair bills to ensue.

Where Harleys score is in their method of power delivery, their huge engine capacities endowing them with the sort of torque curves Massey Fergusson would be happy to emulate. Unfortunately, the XV can only play act in this department. True, it's not as peaky as many 750 fours but overtaking at 50mph plus speeds is much improved by dropping down a cog from top if you really want to shift.

I don't feel that enough development went into this power plant. It could have been a winner if only a few small but annoying problems were corrected at source. Major gripe is the starter motor. Every XV owner I have ever met has had one of these wailing, gnashing, inadequate jokes fail and or blow up on them. Mine started to go at fourteen grand and finally gave up the ghost one and a half grand later. Because of the regularity of this occurrence, replacements from breakers are like gold dust and with Yamaha asking two hundred odd quid for a new unit and with no kickstart fitted, I would suggest a bus pass as an optional extra to ownership of one of these fine machines.

Fuel economy is also poor. 45mpg from a 750 V-twin is a laughable figure. I suspect that the huge twin 42mm CV carbs are to blame here. Harley get 50-60mpg on their big 1340cc Glides using a single 36mm carb. Perhaps surprisingly, the rest of the bike holds together pretty well. Yamaha seems to have captured the right kind of styling when they first introduced the bike, and it still looks pretty good. That fake hardtail actually conceals a very good deCarbon mono-shock hidden under the seat.

Handling is good to excellent depending on how much care is taken in setting up the suspension. The mono shock can have air pumped in for a pressure of between 0 and 55psi. Yamaha suggest 10psi for solo riding but I've found that the bike will bottom out all too readily and wallow in bends on this setting. By increasing the pressure to around 45psi and also keeping the front forks (also air adjusted) near their upper settings a new bike emerges.

Cornering takes on a Laverda type stability and bumps and potholes are soaked up like water on a dry sponge. But wait a minute, we're supposed to be talking about a boulevard cruiser, not a lithe, rapid scratcher. Well, the XV's a bit of a greyhound in wolf's clothing. Like a greyhound it takes a bit of persuading to slow down when the race is over.

The front brake is a real let down. A single disc with a very pretty but relatively tiny caliper is not enough to halt the Virago's progress when it's going faster than 55mph. This can catch out new riders and really put the frighteners into them. Experienced XV pilots show their colours by dropping down a gear or two and dumping the clutch, the rather fierce engine braking doing as much as the disc. A happy by-product of this technique is virtually limitless front tyre life - after 13000 miles the front Avon still looked as good as new. All the same, the XV benefits from having an extra disc bunged on.

I haven't mentioned the rear drum brake or shaft drive because they are both well sorted units capable of carrying out their. tasks with a certain amount of aplomb. The shaft is so good that it intrudes into the rider's consciousness no more than a well adjusted chain.

Long journeys on the XV are to be avoided if at all possible. The engine is the sort of mill that makes you want to eat up lazy miles, but as with many cruiser style bikes the riding position leaves more than a bit to be desired. A combination of forward mounted footrests and high cow horn bars may help you to look like Peter Fonda but after 50 miles at 80mph you'll be wishing you'd taken the train. Crippling stomach cramps and aching legs don't exactly fire the spirit of freedom. You can alleviate the problem to a certain extent by fitting lower bars (which I did) and rear-sets (which I didn't). You'll lose cred but save on the orthopaedics. In fact with a few minor changes the XV transforms itself into a very practical piece of machinery.

And practical or at least potentially practical just about sums up the XV750SE. It's no coincidence that you may have heard similar criticisms elsewhere. This is because they are so blindingly obvious to anybody who's had to ride one of these bikes. None of the problems are insurmountable and if intelligently tackled will guarantee you a versatile, user friendly machine.

The XV won't out scratch a Ninja, or out tour a Gold Wing, or out pose a Harley, but at the end of the day these bikes are limited by their single purposeness [Is that even a word? 2021 Ed.] and rarely used to their full advantage. The Virago can be ridden with little skill (apart from that brake) and will do anything and go anywhere, and this presumably is why it's so popular with all those bankers, stockbrokers and trainee tax officers. But the XV... a near miss.

Jon Dalton

 

BMW R90/6

Every year the Shits, the Muggers and the Ridehards run down to the same holiday villa. The Shits ride a wobbly and thirsty Kawa triple. They're probably going to spend the holiday trembling in the toilets of a petrol station somewhere in Munich. The Muggers ride a small Jap trail bike, which while great for those urgent dashes through traffic is liable to leave them crawling down the autobahn at 75kph, being shoved off the road by Juggernauts and gits in Porsches - they'll need another holiday to recover once they get home. The Ridehards, on the other hand, ride a BMW twin. They can cruise all day at 120mph plus in armchair comfort, and it's so economical that they've never had to put petrol in it in five years of trouble free ownership.

The moral of this story is simple and obvious: when you go abroad avoid anywhere where you see a German registered BM, 'cos the place is liable to be full of drunk Krauts lecturing all and sundry on the miracles of Teutonic engineering. In fact, the point of all this is even simpler: I used to think that Beemers were Boring Old Fart equipment until I tried owning one. Now, after a year's ownership, I take the boxer twin as conclusive proof of the existence of god. Even more depressing is the fact that he's almost certainly a Hun. Man surely didn't invent these things alone, anyway: they're far too good.

At the centre of all this praise is the well known, long developed and butch looking horizontally opposed transverse twin. The same bottom end is used for the various capacities, all relying on the same 76mm stroke, in the case of the 898cc R90, being well over square from a 90mm bore. Although primary vibes are effectively cancelled out, those two large slugs of pistons produce a torque reaction that makes the bike shake at very low revs and at certain cruising speeds.

My bike was a late import, brought into the country by a holidaying German (is nowhere safe?) who went back on a Harley. I have a lingering suspicion that the bike was originally claimed to be a 1966 750 to obtain a lower import duty valuation. I didn't buy the BMW, I swapped a ropey GTS Ducati for it. Probably one of my better decisions.

The bike doesn't do any one thing really well. What makes it so outstanding is rather the variety of roles which it can fulfil perfectly adequately. It's a brilliant series of compromises: it combines a lively top end (the engine develops 60hp at 6000rpm) if you hammer it with the ability to pull from tickover (it actually accelerates in fifth from 1000rpm up), whilst turning a hard riding 40mpg into a very acceptable 65mpg average if you take it easy.

Whilst looking quite big (it actually weighs 475lbs wet) and imposing, (not aided by a 32" seat height) it's actually dead manoeuvrable around town thanks to the relatively low centre of gravity. It has the looks of an old classic but has amazing modern features like electric starting and a side stand (cor!). And it's also seriously comfortable. Even my cats like to sit on it, although the alternative is an MZ. It also makes those big twin noises without the vibes.

The engine is different to nearly everything else but really quite simple and easy to work on. Weak points are the timing chain, clutch, gearbox and occasionally the alternator. Tappets are wonderfully easy to get at and adjust, although the OHV setup needs infrequent attention, as do the contact breakers The one piece forged crankshaft runs on plain bearings and gives little trouble even if the seven pint wet sump oil supply is changed irregularly. Only the twin 32mm CV Bing carbs need anything like regular balancing, their neglect increasing vibes quite noticeably.

The handling becomes a bit wobbly at speed, but this is probably due to the front forks which aren't exactly A1 these days. They also allow the front mudguard to hit the motor, thus locking the steering. I only find it a problem with the extra weight of a passenger; it's more worrying than it is dangerous if you're aware of it. I never go out two up nowadays without at least one spare set of underwear - not the most elegant of engineering solutions, I know. It's also a pretty shoddy cold starter, again my fault for being a cheapskate by replacing the battery with one from a Reliant - less than half the cost but not up to the abilities of the standard 25 amp hour battery. It's a bugger of a lump to bump start, with less than four people pushing the engine just locks up solid. Fortunately, as an ex Le Mans owner I have a house full of jump leads and battery chargers. It starts easily once it's warmed up.

A sweeping generalisation: with the possible exception of late Triumphs, BM twins are probably the best bikes on the road for availability of second hand spares. They don't compare with the cheapness of Triumph spares, of course, and even used bits tend to be overpriced, but these engines have been around for so long and so many parts are so similar between models, with a high degree of parts interchangeability, that there are loads of bikes broken, festooned with bits that'll fit any of the others. You can even swap cylinders and heads to increase the capacity. The bloke I bought mine off had replaced the whole gearbox for £150 (in fact, about £50 over the odds - the perils of shopping locally). I'm about to fit a used universal joint which cost around £30 delivered.

Most of the breakers tried to flog me a complete swinging arm, because BMs don't come apart without recourse to special tools they tend to be left in units. This is a great blessing because hoodlums with huge hammers, chisels and a pair of Mole grips tend to leave them well alone, so when you buy a gearbox you've a pretty good chance of finding one that works reasonably well - although that term is a relative one with old BMs because they're clunky little things brand new and just get worse and worse. Even police riders get the transmission all wound up from time to time. With the exception of the gearbox the engines tend to keep going for thousands of miles and I can imagine a post holocaust world with mutants roaming the earth, with BMW twins and MZs still rattling around. I'm none too keen on the staid image, myself. If it wasn't so expensive I'd consider joining the owners club just to see if I could get myself drummed out. You can have loads of fun with them, though.

Riding about with no silencing and trying to get into races with everything that moves (especially flying bricks which never take up the challenge) is a great game - more so because rivals just don't expect that kind of action from old Beemers. If I had loads of spare dosh I'd put a really low geared box on it (about fifty quids worth second hand) and side panels with 600 writ large upon them, purely for traffic light showdowns. I can imagine the incidence of ritual suicides drastically increasing in my area. On stock gearing you need a passenger to aviate the front wheel... I'd recommend 'em to anyone. In fact, buy mine, at an inflated price, so l can build a flat track R100.

Ron Price

 

The Art of Running a Triumph

I admit it, I can’t help it. Baptised and confirmed a Triumph freak. I suppose it has something to do with the long summer days of adolescence. It could have been gerbil breeding or fishing with live bait, but it wasn’t. Every youth develops an obsession about something. Having dismembered several Lambrettas and reduced them to their lowest common denominator (which is pretty low) in a fit of mechanical enthusiasm, I cast my beady eyes about for another victim and became a Triumph disciple before I realised what was happening.

The classical rules of brain washing applied - friendly entrapment and camaraderie (one of the local lads palmed off his knackered old 5T on me), repeated assurances that this was the only true way (mainly from rheumy eyed and kerb bound old codgers), sleep deprivation due to long hours spent battering hopelessly festered bearings from their casings and learning the ancient Triumph mechanical litany - by Hepolite and Hermetite I made it. I sang my mantras right, and made it all the way to the top with a brand new Co-op T140V in 1976.

You may enquire why you should continue reading this, on the grounds that this esteemed publication fails singularly to be a religious one and that it is also for used bikes. To take the second point first, all used bikes started out as new bikes, right? Secondly, there is no doubt in my mind that Triumph owners are religious. Let me explain. You can’t join this peculiar sect by simply buying a Triumph. A mechanical induction is absolutely essential. There is no pleasure in ownership without the genesis of grimy finger nails.

As I wheeled my new bike out of the shop I contemplated the lustrous and subtle petrol tank, the burnished engine cases and the rightness of it. Two seconds after starting off, I thought, listen to that piston slap, where the hell is the power? The gear lever was stiffer than a worm with constipation.

After 60 miles I was ready to return the whole badly assembled and unenthusiastic lump to the dealer, and tell my beloved 650 Trophy that all was forgiven, knocking big ends and all. However, we religious nuts are made of sterner stuff, and know in our hearts that these things are sent to try us.

With a bit of carb synchronising here, the ejection of choke apparatus there and Molyslip in the gearbox, all seemed reasonably well. I said my prayers every night and it started first kick every morning. The tank colours faded to an impressionist hue and it gained a worn but preserved appearance that it retains to this day, rather like wartime aeroplanes viewed in museums.

At 1500 miles both front and rear wheel bearings were ruined, no doubt due to the lack of any lubrication in the Japanese factory where it originated. Can't blame Triumph for that. I probably could blame them for the disintegration of the flimsy rear wheel spokes at 2000 miles, piston seizure necessitating a re-bore at 3500 miles and a peculiar recurrent phenomenon of sudden boot soaking oil leaks caused by the valve springs furtively pulling at the rocker box gaskets until one side of the gasket disappeared inside, leaving a hole. The latter was eventually largely cured by fitting gaskets containing an inner wire stiffener, but I am occasionally teased with an encore.

A monotonous series of blown head gaskets came to an end when I started using composite gaskets instead of copper. After I had filled a box with broken petrol taps, I praised the Almighty for non-ferrous metals which were not weakened by petrol like their plastic predecessors. The problem of leaking exhaust ports almost made me an atheist until by the power of McEwan’s Export I discovered that a couple of rolls of beer can material within the port produced a permanent and gas tight seal, easily and refreshingly replaced at overhaul time.

I thought I had received celestial approval between 12000 and 29000 miles. I could chuff happily about town or indulge in a spot of bend swinging around the local lanes. For six months I was doing weekly London to Edinburgh return trips of about six hours each way. 85 to 95mph on the motorway being no problem provided my feet were on the rear footrests and my gloves were thick enough to absorb handlebar vibration. This is not to say that in anyway it was a competitive machine, but it was fun.

The secret of success lay in really regular machine maintenance, together with an acute ear trained to listen for any unusual sounds and repair whatever it was before it became worse. Spares have always been easy to obtain, and I have tended to regard cables, silencers, points and brake pads as a sort of routine church roof fund contribution.

I retired the Cibie halogen bulb out of pity at 50000 miles, and the original K70 front tyre at 25000 miles because it cracked with age rather than wore. This may have been a reflection of the diminishing ability of the front brake to provide retardation, especially in the wet.

As 30000 miles approached, the bike developed a mid life crisis which lasted for 15000 miles. It demanded four sets of main bearings during this time. The first time the mains rumbled I replaced them myself, but after 10000 miles the alternator rotor again started playing tag with the other inhabitants of the primary chain case, so I had them professionally replaced with a Superblend conversion. 1500 miles later this remarkable bodge delighted other fans at the TT by reminding them exactly of a lorry load of Okell’s empties tumbling down a ravine. On return the device was re-bodged by the same professional concern (now out of business or retired to Spain), and I thought perhaps a greater church roof fund contribution of big ends, valves, guides, camshafts, uprated oil pump and 3 phase alternator were required.

Unhappily, the mains refused to be placated until taken to a truly wonderful London hole in the wall, the occupant of which did a superb crankshaft repair and AG mains conversion. After this the reliability improved to such an extent that I felt I could dispense with the original cigar type silencers, replace them with straight throughs and fit larger main jets and smaller throttle cutaways. This vastly improved power and the engine will zip up to 7000rpm faster than a Scotsman closing his wallet. I am still struggling with the resultant clutch slip, and have failed to cure this despite stronger and better everything. It is likely the simple design has reached its limit.

So there we are. After eleven years of dedicated toil and 61000 miles, I have a machine where the only bearing that remains unchanged is in the swinging arm. The engine uses virtually no oil between 1500 mile changes, despite the bore having done 57000 miles. I doubt if there is a machine which can shimmy around in the city traffic so well, but were I to return to regular long distance riding I would fit rear-sets and straight bars, as well as a much more comfortable seat. I would not hesitate to jump on it tomorrow and ride to Greece. If it missed not a beat I would not be surprised. On the other hand if it completely self destructed I would not be surprised either.

I have reached its handling and power limits and have probably outgrown it. Looked at over the period of ownership it has certainly been cheap and returns 50mpg however it is ridden. It is in excellent condition, always starts first kick, burbles happily and has a perfectly adequate all round performance. This is at the price of constant vigilance. If I turn my back on it for more than two weeks, it becomes grumpy and troublesome, rough and vibratory, stalling embarrassingly at traffic lights and leaking oil. Perhaps I should join a monastic order.

N Someren

 

Honda CBX1000

I bought my Honda CBX1000 in late 1979. It was 8 months old and had just 2450 miles on the clock. its owner had just acquired the bike for pose value and, as far as I could ascertain, it had never really been used in anger. Anyway, I saved a grand off the list price and have since pushed the clock past 100000 miles.

To backtrack for a moment, I started riding Hondas in the late sixties and have stuck with the marque, from CB250K1, CB450 twin, CB500/4 to the CBX. I only ever run one bike at a time, so the machine has to cope with a daily commuting run of 50 miles, plus much more pleasurable trips in the evenings, weekends and annual holidays.

I decided to buy the Honda because I became entranced by its looks and its technology. With four valves per cylinder, DOHCs, six cylinders, 105hp at 9000rpm and 135mph top speed, the Honda was top dog back then. My first test ride revealed a remarkably well balanced bike with an ultra smooth engine. It could trickle through town traffic just above tickover and pull away with no chain or transmission snatch (something very noticeable on other Hondas I'd owned). On a long straight I dropped a few gears and opened her up. That nearly snapped my head off and I hit the brakes much sooner that I'd expected to avoid going straight through a hedge. I immediately decided I needed to buy the bike.

That six cylinder engine dominates the bike. Even the large, 4.4 gallon, petrol tank looks small in its presence. The engine probably has more chains than any other bike I've encountered. One hyvoid chain drives the front camshaft from the crankshaft, while another chain. connects the two camshafts. But don't laugh, because these chains are still fitted after 100000 miles. The alternator and electronic ignition are mounted under the carbs, driven from the centre of the crankshaft by yet another chain. Primary drive is, yes you guessed it, by hyvoid chain to a shaft that then drives the clutch by gear.

For the first thirty thousand miles these chains did not intrude upon my consciousness, from then on they began to creep in, first in the form of increased noise, finally (around 55000 miles) as transmission sloppiness. It now refuses to run smoothly below 2500rpm in fifth. What was a silky smooth and almost silent engine became, by 60000 miles, as rough as an early CB750 and as noisy as any number of old Brit twins. But to be fair, in the last 40,000 miles it has become hardly any worse.

My first long ride was from London to Edinburgh. On the M1 it would run along at an indicated 110mph with a muted purr from the engine and. no weaves or queasiness. There was a little vibration through the bars, but it became no worse as revs increased. In fact, below six grand the engine was so exceptionally smooth that it tended to highlight any roughness at higher revs. Those more legally minded will be happy to know that 6000rpm equates to 80mph. Another joy with the Honda was that it could be left in fifth for most of the time, just open the throttle and it shifts. Do this with six grand on the clock and it'll try to pull your arms out of their sockets.

The 545lb bike was also surprisingly easy to chuck around country roads. The front forks were well made and kept their precision for 22000 miles, the FVQ rear shocks were adjustable for damping and springing, needed to be fully turned up for bumpy roads and lasted for 11000 miles. More importantly, the engine is mounted low and well forward, the cylinders canted 30° forward, whilst the riding position was very European, with semi rear-sets and flattish bars. Put all this together to have a bike that feels both secure and precise and can be leant right over on the edge of the tyres.

It never was perfect, though, because the swinging arm bushes were plastic and the swinging arm itself quite happy to flex. Shut off the throttle in a corner and the back end shakes and loses traction. Also because of the forward weight bias, very heavy braking lifts the back wheel off the ground momentarily. In certain circumstances, like when leant over on a bumpy curve, this can become very frightening - the back end just starts skipping off across the road. But in eight years of riding this has only occurred three times and I'm still here to talk about it.

At 12500 miles a used square section swinging arm with needle roller bearings was fitted off a crashed CBX. Apart from the need to take loads of junk off the bike to gain access, this fitted on quite easily. At the same time I bought a complete exhaust system off the bike, as mine had already turned the headers rusty and the silencers had started to rattle where the baffles had corroded away. With the new swinging arm it felt much more stable in bends when the throttle was backed off or the brakes applied. As the bearings are still OK, it was money very well spent and much safer than stock.

According to Honda the oil should be changed every 3000 miles, but being a Honda man of long standing, I change the oil every 1000 miles (using Duckhams) and the filter at 3000 miles. I think that these regular changes go a long way to explaining the long life of the engine. Electronic ignition requires little attention whilst the valve clearances are controlled by shims that are wonderfully easy to get at. For the first ten thousand miles they stayed within the clearance limits, thereafter I've had to adjust two or three every five thousand miles. A shim costs around a quid a time, so this is by no means an expensive habit. The carbs, unfortunately, don't stay in balance for great distances and really need to be set up every 2000 miles, but I let a dealer balance them every 5000 miles, which at £25 is a reasonable compromise between cost and smoothness.

The rear tyre lasts for around 5000 miles, irregardless of which make is fitted, the front goes for 6000 miles. I went through a phase when I favoured Metzelers, but have just reverted back to Roadrunners (AM20/21) and find the new tyres as good as anything I've fitted. But I just hate fitting them to the alloy Comstar wheels.

When I first had the bike, the combination of twin front discs and single rear was quite ace - very powerful and responsive, no wet weather delay and not even any noises. That happy state lasted for around 5000 miles when my penchant for actually commuting in the depth of the winter led to them seizing up due to corrosion. I managed to tear all three apart and clean them up. The only benefit of this was that they always went when the pads needed changing. I had to buy a new set at 35000 miles - er, new meaning a slightly used set from a breakers for forty notes. By 50000 miles all three discs were warped and the brakes made some fairly hideous noises. The former brick wall effect was missing. By then the forks were also shot, the bike was weaving at speeds above 75mph and bouncing disconcertingly in fast curves.

I pinched the whole front end off a 1983 CBX that had seized. The later bikes were more of a tourer than a sportster, with a hideous fairing and awful styling. I found the new forks on the soft side, so put in spacers to tighten them up. At 11000 miles I fitted some Koni rear shocks which went for 21000 miles when I fitted some S&Ws, which were so much better that I even fitted a new pair when they were shot 27000 miles later. In fact, at one point I had a bike with better forks, shocks and swinging arm than stock, which for a 50000 miler is pretty good going.

Not so good was the finish of the machine at that stage. All the engine alloy was badly corroded, the chrome was more rust than shine, the second exhaust was rusty and almost straight through. The bike looked scruffy and well used. It still ran quite nicely, though, the only real mechanical fault had been the alternator that had burned out and left me stranded a hundred miles from home. A CBX will just run for that distance with a fully charged battery and no alternator. I managed to pick one up for fifty quid from yet another breaker.

I decided to take the motor, out and strip down the chassis for cleaning, blasting and painting. This left a large hole in my life as it took a months work to pull it all back together. Except for taking off all the engine covers for bead blasting, and wire brushing and polishing, the engine wasn't touched. I decided to let the local sprayer do the work. I now have the only British Racing Green CBX1000 in the UK. The finish stood up very well to the next 50000 miles.

When I first had the bike it would average as much as 50mpg if I just cruised around without offending the speed limits, now it never does better than 42mpg. Before it could go as low as 30mpg and that has degenerated to 25mpg. It now averages 34mpg when before it would just manage 40mpg. I suppose that the carbs, which have never been touched except for balancing, are as well worn out as most of the engine components must be. Top speed had been cut by 10mph to 125mph, trying to go beyond that speed induces quite fierce vibes, but, fortunately, my need for excessive speed has decreased in line with the bike's ability to deliver it; we've grown old together!

That's one of the nice things of owning a bike for so long there's so much shared experience that you tend to forgive the bike when it does something wrong. Like chronic clutch slip at 65000 miles. The plates were well gone, as there weren't any in nearby breakers at that time, I went wild and ordered new. These only lasted for 15000 miles, the guy in the shop wanted me to buy a whole clutch body when I complained and then muttered something about many Honda engines not lasting that kind of distance. Anyway, the second set I fitted have lasted better and still hanging on in there.

Just after the clutch went, the alternator started playing up (the neat voltmeter fitted started oscillating wildly), so I bought a used one by post. This lasted almost exactly 4000 miles, which was sixty quid wasted. I found another one for forty and that has held out so far.

The bike has also suffered from a weeping cylinder head gasket. This started at 35000 miles but was cleared up by tightening down the head. The same trick was repeated at 45000 miles. At 62800 miles tightening down the head had no effect but the oil leak has never become worse. Ride the CBX very hard for a long time and the front of the cylinder is badly splattered with oil, but strangely it had little effect on oil consumption, which is still minimal between changes.

The O-ring chain lasted for a credible 12500 miles. It'll do about 1200 miles before needing adjustment. Sprockets need replacing every 25000 miles to maintain that kind of wear, although I did once keep the sprockets for 40000 miles, taking chain life down to a mere 7000 miles, probably a false economy, especially when it further upsets a worn engine transmission.

The silencers go for about 20000 miles before holes start appearing and will do a few more thousand miles before they become straight through. I had some stainless headers made up at 50000 miles and have used cheapo Universal silencers, which have a similar life but cost only £35/pair to replace. The left hand alloy footrest bracket broke at 65000 miles, but another one was bought from a breaker for only £10. At a similar mileage the engine started to misfire, cured by buying a new set of coils. A few miles later oil started pouring out of one of the oil cooler connectors, it had actually cracked where it joined the oil cooler - forty quid from the same breaker for a new cooler fixed that. I was lucky to have spotted that one straight away.

The most serious fault occurred when the frame tube broke at one of the welds by the headstock. Before I realised what had happened the bike did one hell of a tank slapper at 80mph on a smooth, flat, straight motorway. Luckily there weren't any cars around that early in the morning and I rode home very, very slowly. I persuaded a friend to weld the tube back and the handling has been fine since then. I now take off the tank every time I change the oil to check it. The headstock is very well supported with no less than five tubes meeting there.

Minor niggles include an air filter (12000 mile life) that is difficult to change, mirrors that blur above 90mph and electric connectors that can fall apart: I've had the lights switch themselves off at the wrong moment and indicators that flash crazily. At 48000 miles I rewired the bike completely using some high tech connectors I hijacked from work that are normally used in missiles, no more problems from the electrics.

Taken together all these problems might appear quite a lot, but they were spread over 100000 miles of highly enjoyable motorcycling. Each year I used to take the bike for a three week trip to Europe and never experienced any problems despite the fact that I could easily clock up anywhere between three and five thousand miles. Only last year, the bike purred happily down German autobahns at an indicated 100mph for a couple of hours, and could then take to the back roads and still hustle along country bends.

While the latest high tech stuff will leave it for standing it's as good a handler as any number of late seventies Jap fours, a fact all the more remarkable considering its mass and engine configuration. With a 59" wheelbase and those 545lbs of mass it's surprisingly easy to manoeuvre in town, although you do have to watch the width of that engine. Out of town I've had races with common devices like GS1000s and Z1000s, which, in its earlier days at least, could be left in both a straight line and through the bends, much to their annoyance. A lot of riders of big Kawasakis and Suzukis tend to dismiss the Honda as unwieldy and about as speed orientated as a Goldwing, and I rather used to enjoy educating them. Also swapping bikes with mates reveal these fours to be very vibratory and generally uncivilized. Of course, I'll accept that something like a GPz1100 will burn off the Honda and consume less fuel while putting it in its place.

By 85000 miles the forks and the discs were knackered again. I'd rebuilt the original forks with new seals and stiffer springs, so that was no great problem. Another set of calipers and discs were procured from a breaker in Bristol, more by accident than design as I was just looking around the place when visiting friends in that city. While I was dealing with this, I had the pair of alloy Comstar wheels bead blasted and polished them up with Solvol. The bike was beginning to look good again. It went through periods of gradual deterioration when I couldn't be bothered or didn't have the time to polish it up. Then I'd have a brief period of activity when I'd repair the damage.

Along with the uprated forks I fitted a fork brace, the bike is now as good as it's ever been. I had a test ride on a CBR1000 and was forced to admit that the CBX did feel a little dated - both on acceleration and handling. But the four cylinder motor still felt a little rough when compared with the six and it didn't seem quite so flexible. Still, it is a tempting proposition.

The switchgear has never given any problems and by now I have no trouble operating it. The headlamp had a peculiar beam pattern that upset car drivers as it glanced off their mirrors and the 60/55W unit precluded speeds in excess of 70mph in the dark. It was quickly swapped for a quartz halogen unit, which while much better keeps blowing every 18000 miles. The speedo cables last only 12000 miles, although the rev counter is still original, whilst throttle cables are good for about 15000 miles (I always carry a spare taped in place).

The clutch hasn't been mentioned because except for the problems with worn plates it required minimal pressure and had plenty of feel. Unlike my older Hondas it never dragged in traffic or when starting from cold. When I first had the bike the gearbox was precise with no slop, but rapidly deteriorated from 40000 miles, until by now it needs a firm action and plenty of time to avoid missed changes. My days of drag starts are finished, so no worry about missing gears and revving the engine to 13000.

The current state of the engine is not exactly confidence inspiring. The bores and pistons, somewhat surprisingly, are still OK judging by the lack of smoke from the engine. The large number of chains in the engine have started to rattle rather terminally, especially when the throttle is backed off. It'll mean a complete strip down to replace them all, and cost around £300 to do properly. I'm tempted to find a later motor from a breaker and just bolt it in (£500 to £750 depending on the breaker).

Overall the CBX1000 has been surprisingly versatile and done just about everything I've asked of it without complaint. It'll be a lot cheaper to renovate it than buy a new bike, so I may keep it for a long time.

Guy Williams