Honda Transalp

The Transalp was big, white ugly but impossible to overlook, lurking amongst the race replicas like a warthog amongst whippets. Almost without realising it, I was inside the dealers. Was it really a huge saving on normal prices? If so, why? It transpired that the dealer ordered it for a punter who had ratted on the deal Since the British motorcycle buying public were generally as keen on warthogs as most of Bradford's population are on the Means Test Man, the dealer was keen to shift it. He was even to offer me what I paid for my Honda 750F2C.
 
"It’s a sensible buy because..." I rehearsed a few lines should they be needed... "much safer in the snow with those knobbly tyres” (I use a bike daily, winter and summer).. "UMG isn’t too happy about the long term reliability of the Honda twin cam fours..." but within a few days I was feeling like a teenager on a first date as I waited to pick up a very new used bike - 17 miles on the clock.
 
Getting onto the bike always reminds me of Lawrence of Arabia (5’ 2") getting onto the back of a huge camel. He sat in front of the hump, but on the Transalp you sit at the foothill of a huge tank with, a bijou fairingette somewhere in the middle distance. You can just about touch the floor with your feet: maybe bikes like trousers should have labels with the inside leg measurements.
 
I rode it cautiously away to find within a few seconds that the speedo didn’t work. A somewhat shamefaced mechanic reseated the drive cable properly into the front hub as his colleagues jeered "pre-delivery inspection," in an unsupportive manner. I had made an effort to read the "reviews" of the Transalp in the monthly motorcycle comics - I still wonder who pays some of these hack writers who didn't appear to have ridden the same machine that I now had. When it was run in, it seemed happy to cruise at eighty and and would obviously run up to higher speeds but the sit up and beg trail bike stance starts to do wonders for the biceps and shoulder muscles if you do it for long.
 
There was a marked lack of the reported high speed vibrations once the engine mounting bolts had been tightened to a reasonable level. And despite what has been written, it will stay up quite securely on the side stand.  The engine is basically a bored out VT500 with chain drive and has the same unburstable feel. As usual with Hondas, the chain needs lubing and and adjusting regularly to stop gear changes becoming totally agricultural. One of those clever oilers from that nice Mr. Scott solves most of the problems. Apart from this, it has shown no sign over the first year of needing more than very basic attention.
 
I've come to believe, from running a variety of Hondas, that the engines need lots of oil changes but otherwise can be left alone. Professional magazine hacks have been heard to evince some surprise that Transalps cab be ridden off road successfully. The truth is, of course, that any bike can be ridden off the road - it helps if you don’t need to commute to work on it the next day, but it’s not actually vital.
 
In the thankfully less civilised north, the easiest way from one place to another is often over some usually unsurfaced road. The antics on legendary unmade roads, like the one over Ilkley Moor, have to be seen to be believed. I once followed a Bonnie (with clip-ons) on a Daytona over this short but spectacular trail without thinking much of it at the time. Those, as they say, were the days.
 
Anyway, most of the roads in Yorkshire are degenerating so rapidly that a challenging enduro event could be run round most council estates. Some off road ability is necessary for survival both bike and rider. Any bike that is half way designed to cope with rough stuff will probably do so quite well. The Transalp needs to be ridden quite boldly off road and mostly sitting down. Standing up and pretending too be Sammy Miller is pointless as the front wheel can’t be seen under the fairing.
 
You can bash around the local scenery quite comfortably and the pose value is good. A trip to Sainsburys? For all anyone knows, you could be starting the Paris Dakar. It comes with stickers on the side saying "Rally Sport” whose meaning is vague. It almost makes it as a good touring bike, but it needs ingenuity to make it carry a decent load of luggage. The dinky little rack looks pretty but will hold your sarny box and not much else. In desperation I bought an expensive tank bag, fitting  a tank cover to protect the paint.
 
To get the ubiquitous throw-over panniers on without involuntary arson by the high level pipe, a bit of Mickey Mouse Engineering Inc (actually, a piece of alloy from a shower door) produced a serviceable - all right laughable - heat shield.  Thus equipped we - the warthog, the nearest and dearest and a negotiated amount of luggage - set off for a trip round Western Ireland. I was surprised to find even with the the luggage and two ex-middleweights it handled acceptably once the monoshock was wound up a bit bit.
 
Another really good ride. Apart from the ferries that didn't run - "Why not go to Holyhead, I think there's a boat tonight" - and a week of solid rain, it was, of course, superb. The odd looking plastic hand protectors really do keep your pinkies quite dry. Ireland was a good we ground for the Honda. Not terribly good roads with a marked absence of traffic, although some drivers do have problems with the basics (like with which side of the road to drive on). The further you get out of the towns the worse the roads become - spectacularly neglected roads made me thank my choice of machine.
 
When we eventually returned, with a character building ride through the M62’s artificial chicanes in a cloud burst and a storm force wind, I realised that I'd done nothing in 1200 miles apart from put petrol in it. Which, of course, is as it should be: the fact is I hadn't even thought of doing anything else.
 
It’s not perfect. It eats rear tyres at a disgusting rate (4/5000 miles) and I am not totally happy about throwing it into bends with gay abandon shod with half worn semi knobblies. Maybe I’m petting old? Experience suggests that the matt black finish on the exhaust and the pregnant silencer won't last and will rust whatever I do to it. But these seem minor things as, above all, it is fun, and looked at in cost mile even quite cheap fun. Why have they sold so few of them?
 
Bill Lakin
 

Harley Davidson 1200 Superglide

Harley ownership was but a dream until my brother bought an Electraglide for a ridiculously small sum in '82. It even had a few extras - spot lamps, crash bars and big white panniers surrounded by chrome rails. On the Electraglide everything is huge. The front guard weighed as much as a Triumph’s frame. My brother junked all the heavy stuff in favour of a sportier look and let me have a go.
 
I was impressed by the engine’s massive torque at low revs and I immediately decided I had to hit the town centre to pose for the young femmes. Harleys certainly turn heads like no other bike. I was expecting it to be hideously slow due to media reports so was surprised to find it no slower than my Triumph and needing a deal less revs. Ground clearance and braking were both only good for a laugh. In the wet you might as well squeeze a sponge onto the disc with a pair of tweezers as try to use the brakes. However, these shortcomings were overcome by the sheer shit-eating grin factor involved in riding them. I had to have one!
 
It wasn’t until four years later when the chance arose at a time when most people seem to pack biking in - house buying. I'd just signed my soul over to Beelzebub for a terraced hut - at least the bike would go straight through the front door into the living room.  I had a spare £1000 which was going to go on a Commando when I saw an ad for a 1200 Superglide at £2800 - which was cheap then. The bike consisted of a rolling chassis left over from a Custom job and a complete engine except for the outer primary chain case. The paint made it look like one of those child’s rides outside department stores - bright orange metal-flake with purple highlights.  He eventually agreed to take £2500.
 
Even tied down on a trailer, with parts missing, it attracted attention when we went for a beer. My brother said I'd have to get used to that. I just grinned. The rebuild became far from amusing when I realised that a retarded gorilla had ripped off the inner primary chaincase whilst two bolts were still holding it onto the engine, the section of aluminium thus ripped out had been welded back in such a way that the case was only suitable for use as a garden ornament.  To cut a long story short, after a lot of hassle I eventually got the thing back together - just as well I'd served my apprenticeship on a Triumph.
 
I'd missed a deal of summer messing about with the bike, so I loaded the girlfriend and gear onto the bike and took off for Cornwall. The combination of four inch overs and a home-made rack perched atop the cut-down rear guard meant the handling took a little adaption, but I soon became used to it falling into corners. The brakes were still shit, even with two discs out front.  Unless you get off by sitting in turds then the best way to travel wet motorways, especially carrying weight, is with very slight pressure on the front lever to keep the discs dry. Stainless looks great but so do those American front ends with no brake at all. Clenched knuckle and brown trouser time.
 
True to form the entire week was spent sat in the tent peering outside at pouring rain on miserable campsites. So bad was it that we got a bus into town to buy wellies. The one sunny afternoon I had food poisoning. The rest of the time I had rheumatism thanks to the pissing damp weather and cold August fog - I could barely move my arms. It was whilst studying the Harley from the comfort of the tent that I noted the inner surfaces of the silencers were covered in oil. Probably just a valve guide, I hoped. Going home I noticed I was filling one lane of the M1 with blue smoke every time I shut down the throttle. I had plenty of time to ponder on what any added cost would do to my finances - I was paying a mortgage, a £1500 loan and £140 for four months insurance thanks to a drink drive ban.
 
I wanted to spend any money I had getting rid of the candy-ass, pimp-ish, fairground colour scheme - people actually thought I'd done it myself! I decided to ignore the smoke, after all the engine wasn't that rattly, and go on a MAG run the next weekend. It was only afterwards that I ripped off the rear head afraid of what I'd find. There was a deep groove, an inch wide, going from top to bottom of the barrel, a clonking conrod and a snapped fork at the bottom end of the con-rod where it forked around the other con-rod. I had to dash to the corner shop for some fags.
 
The deeper I went into the engine the worse it got -  shagged cams, mains, con-rod and big-end assembly, back barrel, piston, valves, guides, one rocker arm, all four rocker shafts... all as a result of the oil being turned to paste from the gudgeon pin having a love affair with the cylinder. Someone had used an old type of circlip without the special tool! A combination of new and used made £600 disappear , cheaper than a Jap but more expensive than British stuff. Almost all the pattern parts I've tried have been substandard, so it pays to buy the genuine items. I also decided to try to fix the gearbox as even after three stripdowns I was still having selection problems - I'd fix some small thing thinking I'd solved the problem only to find that it was still there. Eventually, a toolmaker friend took a smidgen off the on and everything was fine.
 
I carefully ran the motor in and since then (1987) it hasn’t let me down. I've had minor breakdowns but they have always been due to my own negligence (like the time the battery fractured - I knew it was due to go but was too lazy to fix it) or due to cheapo pattern parts such as the starter relay that cost a tenner and lasted a month; jam a screwdriver into the relay and watch it spark. A car relay for £2.50 is still going strong. I even eventually had the money to do a decent paint job.
 
The bike starts well and although lumpy around town is a totally different animal during long runs when it smooths out. It'll cruise at 80 to 85mph, returns 60 to 70mpg and sounds beautiful.  Vibes aren’t a problem (these ex-Triumph owners - Ed), it just shudders as it gets up to cruising speed. It’s a most comfortable, relaxing bike to ride, cupped in the bucket seat and leant against the camping gear listening to that lovely exhaust rumble.
 
Handling is not as good as a Triumph but perfectly adequate, but that’s besides the point as I can barely keep off the bike. I'll admit to being totally obsessed by the marque and it’s rubbed off onto friends. Last years we took six Harleys and a Commando to Austria - what a fantastic noise; the Germans must've thought the dambusters were returning as we trundled down the Rhine. Tunnels were sheer heaven, all seven riders the grinning like maniacs, gunning the motors at full throttle into the darkness - it’s a wonder we didn’t cause avalanches. By the time we exited a tunnel we were all laughing hysterically at the reverberations.
 
You don’t need to be rich to own a Harley, just obsessed. Just look at that massive V-twin, the line of the tank... who needs women, careers, TVs, fridges, gibber, gibber, drool, drool...
 
Rob Glenton
 

BMW R100RS

Picture the scene: a gleaming white BMW R100RS Motosport being wheeled out of the dealer's showroom into the car park (he sold BMW cars as well). A fresh MOT, road tax and insurance all sorted and the open road beckoned. Such is the stuff dreams are made of, or so it seemed to this particular biker of some twenty years experience.
 
Although it was 5 years old with 30000 miles on the clock (just run in, sir, the salesman joked), it was far and away the most expensive bike I'd purchased. But I wanted something that would last for years, cruise effortlessly for long distances yet still be relatively easy to maintain. The BMW seemed to fit the bill. It had a reputation for a quality build and long life that no other bike could match.
 
The 20 mile ride home on a freezing January day did nothing to via my damped my enthusiasm The fairing gave good weather protection, the boxer engine pulled willingly, and although the shaft drive made quick gear changes difficult, I reasoned that it was just a matter of adapting to it and that smooth changes would come with practice.
 
The single rear disc brake didn’t seem too effective at are so I decided to investigate. As an aircraft engineer by trade and a bike mechanic by inclination, I was quite happy to sort out this small problem by myself. I decided that the fault was in the brake master cylinder and obtained a seal kit from my local dealer. This was quite difficult to fit (as I'd been warmed by the same dealer) but the cost of a new master cylinder, £130, was out of the question. For about 50 miles the brake was excellent but then ed became less and less effective. The twin disc front brakes were more than adequate but the perfectionist in me wanted the back brake to work properly; after all, this was a BMW. By the time I had decided to go for a new master cylinder the price had gone up to £160. This was the sort of money that some of my previous bikes had cost, but fitting it did cure the problem - for a while.
 
I decided to visit relatives in Ireland with my 10 year old son on the pillion. The journey from East to West coast over the Pennines was exhilarating. The Krauser panniers took all our baggage easily. However, on a long trip the low bars tend to become uncomfortable, especially with a pillion as the rider is forced to sit forward, where the seat is quite hard, making stops necessary every hour or so.
 
On the last day of our trip, just a couple of hours before catching the return ferry, I got a puncture in rt rear tyre. We had just stopped or petrol and as I filled up the tank, unbeknown to me, the rear tyre was quickly deflating. The side stand had a vicious return spring and only allowed a few degrees of tilt. This, combined with the extra weight of petrol in the tank and the flat tyre, caused the bike to fall over. No damage was done except to me and my son as we struggled to lift the bike upright. Back at my relatives' house we quickly set about fixing the puncture. The back wheel would have been easy to remove had not the pannier frames been in the way - three people and a lot of struggling.
 
One epic journey across the Pennines resulted in turning around because the bike was uncontrollable in the high cross winds. What was happening here? This was the bike I'd dreamed of going around the world on, and here I was chickening out of a mere 300 mile jaunt. Combined with the fact that I never mastered the gearchange, always that awful clunk, resulted in the bike being laid up for months on end. This bike was destroying all my love for motorcycles and when it failed to start in the winter I decided it had to go,
 
A genuine battery cost £90 but an alternative was available for £50. These high prices seemed general for BMW parts and I still feel that they can't be justified.  True, the bike was a great long distance motorway cruiser but surely the gearchange could have been sorted out after all the years of development. And doing away with the kickstart on a 1000cc twin is a backward step in my opinion. For sure, the BM’ had more than adequate power for sane road use, wasnt too heavy on tyres and pads, whilst fuel was between 40 and 50mpg depending upon the degree of abuse.
 
My advert resulted in someone driving over 100 miles with a trailer to buy the bike. After a test run and a little haggling I watched it being towed away with mixed feelings. It was a truly beautiful looking bike - maybe it was just me expecting too much, but I made a mental note to stay well away from bikes with fairings and.
shaft drives.
 
About a year later I saw my old bike advertised in MCN by the bloke I'd sold it to. The mileage was less than 1000 more than when I'd sold it. Another disillusioned BMW owner? I had to confess that the idea of that helped to justify my own decision to sell. At the end of the day it just didn’t cut it as a good bike, and the extortionate spares prices made owning it a liability.
 
My next bike, a high revving 350LC, water pumper - instant power, fast, slick gear changes and a kickstart. Such is the stuff dreams are made of... For any doubting Thomases reading this, may I add this observation about BMWs in general and the R100 series in particular: look through the private for sale ads in MCN and you will notice one thing common to many - the low mileage quoted. Now, this may be explained by their owners being fair weather riders who use their bikes only for fun on our few glorious summer days. However, as any biker will tell you, if you really enjoy owning a particular bike you will find time and excuses for using it for longer and longer journeys.
 
Finally, I noticed that when BMW re-introduced the R100RS in '86, due to popular demand, they had replaced the single disc rear brake with a drum (hurray - Ed). This is possibly because the monolever rear suspension prevented use of a disc, but I like to think that it was because of feedback to BMW from my local dealer who listened sympathetically to my endless tirades about that bloody useless back brake.
 
Anon
 

BMW R45

To be perfectly honest the thought of riding an R45 didn't excite me very much at all to start with. I mean, with your hand on your heart, tell me that the prospect of riding 400Ibs of Bavaria’s finest with only 38hp worth of motive power on tap sets your pulse racing. No, I wasn't terribly impressed and I even began to fantasize about the fun could have with a pair of mole grips and the evil little Nip at Honda responsible for the design of the 900F camchain. I still have dreams about throwing that particular gentleman under a large Volvo, but dad’s BMW was the only bike available and my respect has been eat for it ever since.
 
Before I go any further maybe I should explain that I learnt to ride in the thrash it ‘til the world moves game of schoolboy motocross. If the bike didn't scream it wasn't being ridden properly or it had seized. Dad's teutonic toy had other ideas and the change was rather pleasant. The bike itself was a green example of 1978 vintage and had been picked up for a miserly four hundred quid. I say miserly because it had been stored for three to four years and had only clocked up some 7000 sunshine miles. One of the silencers was a bit rotten and it needed a good clean, but once attended to it proved to be in outstanding condition. A pattern silencer, costing around £35, got it back on the road. The first lesson of BMW ownership: genuine items are expensive, and from what I've seen and heard they aren’t worth the extra outlay.
 
I've always subscribed to the theory that the only way to appreciate a bike is to ride it as far and as often as possible; and I did. The first journey I did was a round trip of some 600 miles. Two Wicked were immediately apparent. One, that you could thrash the motor as hard as you liked and it didn’t do any good. I suppose it would do just over 90mph flat out, but if you kept to around 70 or 80 on a motorway it would stay there all day with no complaint.
 
The second thing I noticed was the fuel consumption. Even with two people on board, neither of us small, it was the most fuel efficient thing I’ve ever ridden. To illustrate the point let me tell you a little story. On the motorway back from Gloucester to London we had been close to flat out all the way, having had about half a tank of petrol when we started out. Just before Heathrow we chanced upon a hapless DR who‘d run his out of juice, so we stopped and drained close to half a gallon (hope you got home OK). We then carried on and didn’t hit reserve until Hastings - some 60 miles south of London. A five gallon tank and a stingy bike are pretty useful (I think that works out at about 80mpg - Ed).
 
The handling, on and off motorways, is superb once you get used to the back end of the bike rising under acceleration due to the shaft drive. In fact, I would go as far as to say that it is one of the best back road scratchers I've ever ridden solo or with a pillion! I still can’t get the pegs down and believe me I've tried! Overall comfort is excellent with the riding position suiting my five foot six frame perfectly. Taller riders might not find it so good but I wouldn’t know cos I'm short. The seat is fine over any distance for both rider and pillion.
 
Unlike the larger R65, the baby BM' has only a single disc at the front. The lug is left free on the other fork so you could fit a second caliper if you really wanted, but the braking is more than adequate as standard. Tyres should last a lifetime on such a mild machine - the Metzelers that came with the bike don’t seem to have worn much, anyway, in the several thousand miles that I’ve put on them. The lighting and electrics have proved to be totally reliable with the headlight being infinitely better than its size would indicate.
 
Now to the bad points, if you can call them that. After a while all BMW flat twins seem to leak oil somewhere. The R45 leaks from a seal behind the clutch at the rear of the engine. It’s not serious if you keep an eye on the level but since I happen to be a complete mechanical gorilla that particular job will get left to father for fear of paying BMW prices. The carbs go out of balance at the least excuse and the left-hand carb floods on this one, occasionally covering the floor of the garage in petrol. Several strip downs have failed to find the cause. The handlebar switches seem to be fragile; the indicator switch drops off when least expected; hand signal time. Apart m these minor quibbles everything else is of the quality expected from such an expensive bike.
 
If you can find a R45, which aren’t as rare as some people would have you believe, then seriously consider it. It won't top a ton and it is a bit heavy but it is economical, it does le well and it is a cheap BMW. I'm still a bit of a boy racer at heart, but I like the R45 so much I think Ill buy the company with the money that I manage to save in petrol.
 
Jim Izzard

 

BMW R80/7

At the fine old age of 29 I was whizzing about on an S-reg CX - a reliable, competent machine but wholly lacking in charm. A European bike beckoned again, the full horror of Guzzi V50 ownership having faded into the past. In the back yard of a dealers I spotted a semi-derelict R80. One spin up the road confirmed it as fundamentally sound. It started first time, had all its gears and ran straight. In fact, even with shot fork seals it cornered with a poise I had forgotten was possible after a year on a CX.
 
I bought it believing that, no matter what, it could not be as bad as my previous project (the Guzzi) and it wasn’t. But it was a mighty close thing! When you pick up a BMW for a couple of hundred quid and a 10 year old Mark 1 CX you can’t really expect much; but I got lots. Lots of rust, lots of missing parts, lots of clutch slip and lots of blue smoke.
 
The beast is a 1978 model, one previous owner (not the police) and an apparently genuine 40000 miles on the clock. Sounds good so far? Well, there is one citizen of Birmingham (we both know who you are), who honestly deserves to have his fingers broken for what he did to this machine. A Postman Pat fan, if the shade of red he had brush painted it was anything to go by. He had also had all the chrome parts, except for the handlebars and headlamp rim, powder coated red, Hammerited the engine and appeared to believe that bath sealant was a substitute for gaskets. That it ran at all was a miracle; oil like flat Guinness, valve clearance you could drive a bus through and a slipping clutch in top thanks to a glazed and warped plate, all added to the fun of discovery.
 
The first winter was spent making it roadworthy. It had new silencers, clutch plates, brake pads, fork seals and a rear tyre; plus a list of minor work too long to go into here. It was also sprayed black from aerosols - not a brilliant finish (what do you expect for three quid) but an improvement.
 
Once on the road, I was quietly impressed. The motor chucked out loads of torque yet was equally capable of high speed cruising, smoothly and in comfort. The gear change is the best BMW one I have encountered. Some are real rotters. This one is no rival to a modern Japanese, but selects positively and quietly. Initially, handling was at its best between 40 and 90mph - any less is heavy work with a 19" front tyre and very narrow handlebars. Above these speeds a gentle weave sets in that was most unnerving.
 
Switchgear is distinctly strange. I have got the hang of it now but still don’t like it. Fuel consumption is a so-so 50mpg. Roadholding is first class, crossing cats eyes and white lines has no effect whatsoever - a startling contrast to the CX, despite both bikes sporting Roadrunners. Belting through the countryside demonstrates the excellence of the handling (despite a frame so ancient as to feature a bolted up back end) after Marzocchi shocks and heavy duty fork springs were fitted. However, the BM’ only works well in corners if the line is worked out well in advance. Closing the throttle or, worse still, actually braking, has the machine running wide in a big way.
 
The real fly in the ointment was the blue smoke. Oil was disappearing at around 150mpp, so one Sunday morning I took the bike to bits. Talk about simple, the motor makes Meccano look high-tech. Even the tank can be left in place. It needed new exhaust valve guides and a pair of used pistons and barrels (£50). Gaskets were expensive at £9 a set just for the top end on one side. Oil consumption improved to 800mpp.
 
Tyre wear was moderate, the fuel range over 200 miles and the riding position first class. Mine has the old type squashy seat, much more comfortable than the later type with the ducktail, which look better but are rather hard and narrow. Mine is so good that passengers fall asleep and the better half pronounced it the most comfortable bike I’ve ever owned - don’t mention Supa 5s when she’s around!
 
The height and reach of the footrests are adjustable for both rider and passenger, though the rider's rests are slightly offset. I hadn’t even noticed this until a friend borrowed it one day and found having his feet offset and hidden under the carbs disconcerting. He also complained about the heavy, notchy throttle (a strangely complex device supposed to extend cable life). Oddly, he adapted to the switchgear straight away, something that took me weeks.
 
At the Stoke show I bought a new tank in original finish for £40, so I sprayed the guards and panels in a vaguely similar shade of blue and bought 800cc stickers. I sold the original tank at the Stafford Classic show for £25. I have never renewed the tax without registering a new colour. BMW parts are on the whole very reasonably priced with a copious supply of pattern and used parts. Air cleaners are £3.65, oil filter £4 and points £2,65. Fair enough, but don’t break the handlebar levers, they cost twelve quid each, and parts for the early ATE calipers are also high.
 
Someone once said in the UMG that these brakes are as much use as men’s tits (surely not - Ed). If anything he was being kind. Mine has twin discs, although some have only one (gulp) and could only be described as good by someone used to adrenalin-assisted MZ brakes. Thankfully the rear drum is excellent.
 
My next investment will be Goodridge hoses to replace the miles of rubber hose emerging from under the tank. The whole arrangement of these brakes is a major design aberration. The handlebar lever pulls a cable which operates a master cylinder under the tank, then rubber hydraulic lines to the fork lines, and finally a foot of metal pipe the calipers, which are similar in design to early Honda items.
 
Four days after rebuilding the motor I was pottering through a suburban area in the rush hour when a child of six pedalled his BMX cycle out of a drive straight under my wheels. Two hours of hysteria followed as police and ambulance were called, the child being unconscious. The police interviewed me, examined the bike and measured the road. A neighbour told them it was my fault as ‘little Richard’ couldn’t know I was coming because the motorbike was too quiet. Words fail me. The child was only concussed, and damage to the bike was slight thanks to the engine bars. The bicycle was destroyed, being so buckled it was of no further use to anyone except perhaps a circus.
 
What else? Well, the fuel taps leak incorrigibly, the Bing CV carbs don’t sing White Christmas but do go out of tune rapidly. If you are thinking of buying a BMW, allow for a set of vacuum gauges. Electrics are neat and effective. The batteries are huge though horribly expensive. The external pushrod tubes leak oil as do the totally inadequate cylinder base oil seals.
 
Before buying the R80 I tested an R45, which made the CX feel like a street racer - it was that slow. Also an ex-police R75/6 that had an appalling gearbox, and despite what we are told about police standards showed a chronic lack of maintenance. It had also covered 75000 miles and the, er, dealer wanted almost a grand for the thing.
 
After an eventful year with many hours spent in my lock-up garage I am well pleased with the R80. Certainly, it is not perfect, but it is a very effective roadster that was cheap to buy, affordable to run and almost comically easy to work on. The basic philosophy of an air cooled, pushrod twin of large capacity in a mild state of tune is as sound now as ever it was in the days of A10s and Dominators (very reassuring - Ed). With the more modern additions of shaft drive and reliable electrics, put simply, it does the job. I can think of nothing that could replace it, and, anyway, have become rather fond of its eccentricities, including the way it sways from side to side at tickover and picks my feet off the road as I pull away. And also, that it'll travel from Wolverhampton to Leeds in an hour and forty minutes and need no refuelling until it’s back in Wolverhampton.
 
Sure, Japan build faster 250s with better brakes and handling, but the last word goes to a lad pushing an E-reg Honda NS125 - "It’s all right for you, you can afford a BMW." I rode away reflecting on the time and work that had gone into the R80 and the fact that it cost me about half the price of his Honda.
 
Jon Everall
 

BMW R75/6

The 500 Triumph was needing nearly monthly rebuilds, the BSA A7 cafe racer was coming back together after the big-end bolt broke and lunched the whole engine (I used to get cramp after only five miles, anyway) and the Greeves Pathfinder trials bike had blown its crankshaft seals. After six years of British biking I was fed up.
 
I had also just turned 25 (cheap insurance), and had got a well paid job at last, so it was time for a change. I wanted a reliable, four stroke touring bike, which was easy to maintain and preferably not Japanese (I still don’t like buzz bombs). To me, that really only left a BMW. So the Brits were sold off, a few hundred pounds borrowed from parents (where would we be without them), and the search was on.
 
An ad in MCN caught my eye and in March 1980 I became the proud owner of a four year old BMW R75/6 with only 12500 mules on the clock. it was metallic blue with a Polaris full fairing in white, stainless steel silencers, and in very good condition. My Craven rack and panniers fitted easily; I was ready to go.
 
My first impression was of size, largely due to the bulk of the fairing, the smoothness after British vertical twins and the rear end lifting when the clutch was let out. BMWs are tall bikes (silly really with such a lowly mounted engine), the back lifting another inch moving off can cause difficulties for the short of leg, but I soon became used to it and forgot all about it after a few days.
 
The fairing was great for getting the prats out of the way - cruise up behind them, flash the halogen and watch them dive out of the way, thinking you're a copper. It was also good at keeping the rain and flies off. A good fairing makes bad weather tolerable. On looking closer at the bike, the overall effect was one of quality; the depth of paint, minimal chrome, good stoving, neat tidy welding and decent alloy castings. Before it’s even moving it earns its reputation for quality.
 
Its faults are mainly minor except for two. The spring loaded side stand is dangerous, leaving the bike less than stable on most surfaces. Luckily, the centre stand is good. The gearbox was notchy, almost agricultural, and when the neutral warning light switch failed it meant removing the gearbox to effect a cure (I left it broken). The parts are expensive, even service items (the air filter is difficult to purchase) and you need a wall full of special tools do any work on the bike other than servicing.
 
Electronic ignition is a worthwhile investment. If you wear flared trousers (surely not - Ed) or waterproofs. make sure that they are free of the carbs before you stop or you may find that you can’t put your feet down as they get caught up in the carb tops. Very embarrassing - make sure you have strong crash bars! Two faults, however, weren't so minor. The braking and the handling. The rear drum was good but the single front disc simply wasn't up to the job, especially with the extra weight of the fairing or when loaded for touring. Twin discs were an optional extra from new and should have been compulsory.
 
The handling only ever felt right when fully loaded for a week's camping. The bike came with heavy duty fork springs and heavier fork oil to compensate for the mass of the fairing. I changed the shocks, tyres, tyre pressure and suspension settings all to no avail. It always felt vague and sloppy, never inspiring confidence. In hindsight, I know that I should have fitted a second disc, a fork brace and had a BMW dealer check the torque setting of the steering head Soares A common cause of bad handling, I believe.
 
The engine was, however, totally reliable, smooth and oil tight. All I ever did to the bike was regular oil changes and routine servicing. In the 10000 miles I covered in six months it never missed a beat. Top speed was in the region of 110mph, but the handling made such speed academic. Fuel consumption was between 45 (thrashed) and 60mpg (economy mode). An average of 50mpg gave a tank range of 250 miles without stopping, including a 25 mile reserve. The seat was large and comfortable, although later models had a first aid kit fitted in front of the seat just where your nuts go. Ouch,
 
The decision to sell the bike was made in August, after a rally in Dorset. I decided to take the scenic route home with some friends, who were two-up on big Jap shafties, a GS850 and Z1000ST, so I thought that I should be able to keep up, being solo. When we reached the A27 across the New Forest, they opened up to over 100mph - at 95 the BMW started to weave, and at the ton I bottled out and watched them disappear into the distance. I caught up on the outskirts of Southampton after they were held up by a traffic jam on the ring road.
 
Halfway round, a berk on a Bantam, of all things, decided he wanted a burn up. I ignored him as much as possible until he decided to overtake me on the inside - in the kerb - then cut across in front of me and turned right. I slammed on the brakes, the front of the bike dived down, the forks slapped from side to side and I gaped in surprise whilst my sphincter tried to do the same. By the time I'd stopped and slowed my pulse a bit the other bikes were long gone, and my pleasant ride home was shot to hell.
 
The thought of riding the BMW through the winter, on ice and snow, made me think of a replacement - a ride on a Moto Guzzi T3 the following week decided the nature of the replacement. So, off to the local BMW/Guzzi dealer to look for a used one, but they had a new V1000 G5 in stock at a reasonable price, so a deal was struck - a week later I picked up the new Guzzi and was happy to leave the BMW behind.
 
Overall, it was an average bike. Nice looking, good engine, reliable and practical, only let down by its brakes and handling. Would I buy another one? Not unless it was very cheap. I no longer do the kind of miles to warrant this sort of bike, preferring something more individual and with character. The Guzzi did everything that the BMW did but better, only let down by its poorer quality finish. Even the Guzzi went in ‘83 to buy a Harley Sturgis. I remember the BMW mainly as a reliable bike that did its job fairly well, but not well enough to warrant any real affection.
 
Brian Smith
 

Five Triumphs

Since 1978 I have owned 5 Triumphs of varying capacities and engine layouts and what follows is not a tale of woe as many would expect, but a tale of what can be expected from a Brit if you’ve got the time (and occasionally money) to pamper to the whims of these machines.
 
All the bikes I have owned have been used and have one thing in common - butchered nuts and bolts and bodged repairs, which results in the apparent lack of reliability associated with British bikes. Examples: a block of wood as a primary chain tensioner; wiring twisted and Sellotaped, snapped rocker box bolts; stripped alloy threads; and much more. British bikes can be twenty, thirty years old with dozens of owners - what else can you expect?
 
The first Triumph came along in 1978 in the form of a ’77 T140 Tiger Export. The first thing replaced was the quaint Avon Speedmaster, a not very good joke in the wet and not much better in the dry. The apparently minimal vibes destroyed the huge rear number plate, solved by replacement with a small, highly illegal job, and most bulbs blew after 500 miles. In 12000 miles I had to fit one new drive chain and two rear tyres with only ruptured rocker box gaskets spoiling the reliability picture.
 
The bike was sold in '79 and early in 1980 I bought a 1968 T120 Bonnie for £300 with a free tank mural thrown in on an otherwise stock bike. It was in dire need of a rebore, which wasn’t done until the pistons cracked, indicated by a sudden loss of power and lots of smoke - but it still limped homewards. The rebuilt motor still had loads of high frequency vibration that resulted in tingling feet and hands, but gave the impression of being bulletproof. I kept it for two years, the major hassle the front brake that would've had trouble stopping a Norman Nippy from 10mph, let alone the Triumph from 120mph - no amount of fiddling or replacement could get it right.
 
Handling was fine in a straight line but abysmal otherwise, again it didn’t seem to be a feature that responded to playing around with suspension settings or bolt tightness Performance was similar to the 750, fuel consumption between 30 and 40mpg. I tried a siamese exhaust but this knocked 20mph off top speed - very clever! The 650 was fast enough to burn off a Triumph TR6 car.
 
1982 saw the Bonnie part exchanged for a '73 Trident that had lived a pretty hard life - the smoke was worse than my old KH250 on full throttle, covered in oil and accumulated crud of 5 years riding. I only bought it because I had this longing to own one and really love the exhaust note of the triple. Most of the nuts and bolts were well knackered, and oil leaked from almost every gasket. Rebuilt, save for the crank and gearbox, it ran OK and stopped leaking oil,
 
One disconcerting foible was the Trident’s tendency to pull leftwards, only slightly, but it was annoying enough for me to think that frame, forks or something else was bent. A lot of time was spent trying to find the cause and I eventually discovered that this was quite normal, thanks to the weight distribution. After 18 months the engine blew we in a big way, wrecking big ends and mains, which will teach me to race big BMWs. It cost £400 to fix including enlarging the oil ways.
 

I never really trusted the bike again after that, I had a gut feeling that something wasn't right and expected it to blow at any time. After two years it was sold, I'd enjoyed the exhaust note, the occasional excursions to 120mph and the superb handling but didn’t like the 35mpg and the temperamental, untrustworthy nature, nor the inadequate front brake.
 
Enter the 1972 T120R, complete with wooden primary chain tensioner. This 650 twin was the best of them all. The only work I did to the engine was to give it a set of piston rings, top end overhaul, gasket set and a proper chain adjuster. In return, it gave me two years faultless service, the handling bettered the Trident (probably because it’s 100lbs lighter) and the front TLS brake could squeal the wheel. Its performance was about the same as the 750 twin in terms of top end but lacked the bottom end torque. It withstood long distance, hard riding without dumping oil all over the place.
 
I did eventually sell it because I like lots of low down power, buying a '78 750 Bonnie. Unfortunately, this was a big mistake as it was a real dog (and I'll never trust a dealer again) with an incredible number of bodges present. It’s taken me two years to bring it it up to the sort of standard that allows it to be safely ridden. A total engine overhaul and rebuild, new fork stanchions, shocks, cylinder head and rewire, were among the joys encountered. I used a single carb head which cuts down the vibes and gives 60mpg. Having spent so much money on it, I now find I haven't any left to run it, so it'll probably go for a smaller bike.
 
Andy Corp
 

Two Honda Fours: CB500 and CB550

The first time I saw the machine I was in too much of a hurry to do anything about it. The second time, I had the time but no money. When I had the time and the money I was at the wrong end of the country (Harlow is always the wrong end of the country). My wife and I were living apart at the time (a dispute about whose turn it was to clean the bath). A pleading phone call led to her putting a deposit on the machine for me.
 
I was very lucky. I knew that the day I first called this bike my own, later I learned just how lucky. The beastie in question was a 1972 Honda 500-4. Judging by the comments in this magazine you might believe the 500/4 is pretty decent transport. You would be right. This particular example was really immaculate. Maybe it was produced in a year when Honda were putting in just that little bit more effort. The chrome was flawless, the places which normally rust were as clean as those parts that have regular cleaning.
 
The mileometer read 15000 and the condition of the machine said this was genuine 15000 miles in 15 years? How can anybody average a 1000 miles a year? Hmmm, well I do know the answer to this question. Most of the "prestige" machines appear destined to this kind of fate - taken out, dusted and insured fully comp for the annual pilgrimage to the TT.
 
Not that the 500/4 was ever a prestige machine. Imported shortly after Honda’s 750/4 had blown wide the inertia of the British motorcycle industry, the smaller fours were always rider’s machines - and sometimes suffered in the process. Not this one, though, it had been cherished. The most curious thing was that I'd bought the bike from a dealer at a pretty low price - this is what you get in Sunderland, the result of regional recession has left a grand total of one motorcycle store (I specifically exclude those whose major efforts are in retailing plastic mopeds and BMX bikes). Money is tight here, even classic machines at bargain-basement prices from a first rate dealer gather cobwebs on the showroom floor.
 
I suppose I have to come clean right now. This machine was put through its paces from the day I bought it. I was working 260 miles from home and wanted to get back there as often as I could. I was not about to embark on regular journeys like this with a vehicle that may or may not make it. In the year that I owned it, I added another 10000 miles to the mileometer. It never let me down, not once, and this was a 15 year old machine.
 
Two years before I bought the 500 I had owned its updated brother - a 550/4, so I did have something to go on. The 550 had been well used and painted a rather fetching white with a red frame. This was the first big bike I’d owned and found it a rather alarming experience; not knowing any better, I thought they all handled like that. Only later did I realise that the steering head bearings had been tightened down using a very large hammer and big chisel. Slackening off proved a surprise - it handled. Not well, you understand, but it began to feel like it wished to go around corners without landing the pilot on his elbows.
 
Sorting the front end did nothing for the rear, of course. A common family heirloom of both 500 and 550 was chronic instability at speeds much over eighty, thanks to those rear shocks, but I never bothered as I kept well away from the redline in higher gears.
 
Quite honestly, travelling for a long distance on a middleweight four, certainly a middleweight four of this vintage, can be tiring if your revs are high. Having ridden a Bonnie on the same round trip of 500 odd miles, I found the high frequency buzz of the Honda as tiring as the Triumph’s incessant thump. The difference is, of course, that I was always pretty sure the Honda would get me there in the end.
 
When I moved to Harlow from Sunderland (for work, nobody does this journey for any other reason) the 550 went with me in the furniture van. It did not like its new home one bit. It sulked, and the rot set in. The first summer was OK until it rained, then she became a 412cc triple or even a 275cc twin. I don’t think she ever became a 138cc single, but it was only a matter of time. A used set of coils made it worse than the originals, despite the usual rituals - silicone sealer, WD40, Damp-Start. To make things even more amusing, the ignition system was disintegrating and the cylinder base gasket began to dribble. My motorcycle had begun to exhibit all the symptoms of senile dementia.
 
At this time I was doing a commuting trip of eighty miles a day and I could not afford to take the bike off the road to do any complicated repairs. There was no reliable dealer near me, I had never stripped a four cylinder engine before and now was no time to begin. It was a cold and wet March and I had no garage for shelter. I crossed my fingers and did something I have never done before or since. I decided to tun her into the ground.
 
The oil leak became worse every day until a weep became a trickle, which in turn became a long series of spurts, like a punctured artery. I tried to keep more oil in the sump than on the road. As the short days of that long winter crept onwards, the rain turned to sleet and the sleet turned to snow. On that final morning, I awoke at 5am and squinted dazedly out onto heavy snow, more of which was falling every second. I knew I was in for a hard time. I wasn’t wrong. With hindsight, getting to work that day was a fairly amusing experience. Well, to be honest, even at the time, it wasn’t without its moments.
 
Starting the beast was not going to be easy. At that temperature the cheap 20/50 oil had the consistency of dough. She was as likely to spit in my eye as start. All the starter motor did was flatten the already sick battery. Jumping up and down on the kickstart wearing six layers of thick clothing reciting an utterly obscene spell and being a complete arsehole to one’s partner resulted in the beast starting.
 
I made my way along the ten miles of country roads, desperately searching for ruts in the snow where my tyres would find purchase. It was so early that few vehicles had started out. Lots of people stuck their head out of curtains and went back to sleep that morning. Once out on the motorway things were not too bad. The snow whirled down, but the visibility was better - still not good enough to allow use of the fast lane, but that didn’t deter the XR3i jerks. I wasn’t so interested in completing the journey very quickly, just alive, thanks. Naturally, the bike added to the fun by misfiring all the way but never actually stopped.
 
When I eventually slithered into work I was very pleased with myself. More so, when I learnt of all the car drivers who hadn’t made it half so far. During the day some of the snow melted and by nightfall the last of the snow formed a covering of hard polished ice. That night she just wouldn't start. No way. The snow and slush that had been whipped up and thrown onto the coils had cut her dead. No sparks.
 
After trying for three hours, the message finally got through - I phoned the AA telling them it didn’t need a refreshment van but a hearse. They sent a little man in a little van who couldn’t get it started. When I was eventually taken home, I collapsed into a damp, miserable and soggy heap.
 
The next morning the weather was better with no traces left of the snow. I went out to the bike and out of curiosity pressed the starter motor. The engine awoke with no sign of a guilty conscience. I soon sold the 550 with the carbs out of balance, a primary chain that sounded like a football rattle and the misfire and oil leak still there - after 48000 miles it needed a better home than I could offer.
 
It was some years later that I bought the 500 and have taken better care of this one. I rode the bike to London and happily purred around the streets for a year. A misfire did set in, but replacing suppressor caps, cutting off most of the original HT leads (part of the coil assembly so can’t be replaced) and substituting silicone equivalents did the trick. The bike was sold to someone with more money than I had arguments.
 
Some of the early fours can be bargains, especially when they've been well looked after (which is fairly obvious from their appearance). Personally, I find bikes like the 500 and 550 fours somewhat wearing to ride for long distances, and, given the choice, would prefer a Japanese or Italian twin of the same capacity.
 
If you want an early Honda four, though, I won't argue with you. They come from an age when the Japs made good, all tound bikes at a reasonable price. Check out Honda’s new 600 Revere. Similar performance and fuel economy as a 550/4 but for £3000: Hell, maybe the 500/4 is a classic, after all.
 
Graham Chalk
 

Triumph Trophy 250

I had just sold my Honda CB125 for a profit (in fact, the only bike I had ever made any money on), and I decided to buy a British 250. A silly idea for which I plead temporary insanity. I soon heard of two for sale locally - a BSA C15, no tax or MOT, non runner with burnt out wiring for £70, and a Triumph Trophy 250 with tax, MOT and running for £200. I rejected the C15 and bought the Triumph which turned out to be a real mistake. A mate bought the C15, replaced a burnt out earth wire, set the timing and it ran and ran, it just would not stop even with the distributor half full of water.
 
After paying nearly double the insurance premium for the 125, I collected the bike. Riding home I soon found out that the clutch was on the way out, it dragged so badly that the front brake had to be held full on to stop the bike pull away from the lights. Neutral was virtually impossible to find and having no idiot light did not help. As far as I was concerned, having learnt to ride on a Jap bike, the brake and the brake and the gears were on the wrong side of the bike - I kept hitting the gear lever when I wanted the brake. The drum brakes were barely adequate so I eventually arrived home shaken but not stirred, for my parents to decide I'd bought a lemon.
 
The first job was to replace the clutch. This was merely the first of a catalogue of mechanical failures. On my way from the pub one Saturday night, the rear light and number plate fell off which I did not realise until I arrived home. I managed to find the light and plate on the grass verge, completely undamaged - it was bodged back on with Meccano. On another occasion the bike was behaving strangely well until I noticed fluid streaming across the top of the tank - this was petrol leaking from a welded seam that had rusted through. Nobody wanted to attempt a re-weld on a rusty old tank so I bought a replacement from a breaker.
 
Looking back, I reckon that a lot of the problems I encountered with the Trophy were due to the wiring harness which was a bodged on Bonnie item. This mess of spaghetti had wires hanging loose all over the place with the water repellent qualities of a sponge. Rain was guaranteed to short out some part of the electrical system. If I was lucky, it would just be the lights but usually total failure resulted. On many occasions the dead bike had to be collected in a friend's horsebox due to the inclement nature of British weather. The battery developed a couple of dead cells, when replacing it I found oil dripping over the engine - coolant fluid from the coil! I lost count of the number of new plugs I bought, for some reason they only lasted for about 50 miles and I never did discover exactly why this happened.
 
There is a film called The Money Pit, about a couple who buy a house which turns out to be a wreck and voraciously swallows large amounts of cash in a useless attempt to set things right. My Triumph Trophy turned out to be the biking equivalent. Rebuilt, rewired, new tank, new seat (the old one was ripped up and rusted through the base), new bars and various other bits that added up to loadsa money - I rode off hoping for the best but fearing for the worst and I was not about to be disillusioned.
 
Suddenly, the clutch action became extremely hard to operate, thanks to a snapped pushrod. A replacement was found in the local breakers, where I was becoming very well known. Heading for my local town on a nice Saturday morning the bike was running perfectly when, at a roundabout, the front end became uncontrollable due to rapid deflation of the front tyre. This was because some brainless moron had thrown tacks all over the road. I bought a puncture repair kit from a shop up the road and borrowed some tools from a handy garage.
 
I was rapidly losing patience with the Triumph and cursed the day I'd decided to buy British. The damn thing continued to destroy plugs with monotonous regularity and problems developed with the rotor. The head also came off for a look inside and when it went back on the valve timing was out, bending the pushrods. That was the last straw, I decided to sell. To add insult to injury, when someone came to look at the bike it refused to start, yet another knackered plug. I eventually managed to sell the the obstinate heap to a vicar’s son for nearly as much as I'd paid for it, but considering how much I'd paid for repairs, it was a financial disaster.
 
I do not want to be totally negative about the bike as this OHV single did have some good points. Although it was off road more than on, when it ran well it was a nice bike with an excellent power to weight ratio, better than the restricted 125s the law limits learners to these days. The Triumph was very stable at 60mph, unlike my Honda 125 that always felt like it was about to go into orbit if it hit a raised manhole cover. Would I buy another today? No, not unless I could buy one really cheap and sell it to a Classic Berk for a ridiculous sum.
 
Simon Morris
 

Harley Davidson XLH1000

The chance to possess a Harley arose out of a misunderstanding with a woman cage driver. I don’t think Give Way signs were in her copy of the Highway Code. Both the wife and myself went through the screen of the fairing of an old CX500, over the bonnet and landed on the road. I managed to only break a wrist, whilst the wife escaped injury. I always thought pillions came off worst.
 
The outcome of all this mess was that she admitted liability and I was nearly £3000 better off! I went to see a Sportster at a dealers and fell in love. At £3000 it was almost a grand cheaper than new (back then) and only 2500km on the clock. I had to have it!
 
When it was finally delivered to my house, I nearly broke my neck in the rush to get my helmet on. It took almost two minutes to find the ignition hidden down the left side by the horn. Choke out, push the button and she fired up, ticking over on fast idle. After a bit of warming up, I shut the choke and she settled down to a gorgeous, unique V-twin tickover.
 
Used to Jap bikes, riding the Harley was a whole new ballgame. Out were quick gear changes, replaced by slow, positive clunks, the bike pulling from 30mph in top without a flat spot and approximately one bang per lamp-post. You can really feel the engine through the seat, not an unpleasant vibration (or so the wife tells me), but a rumble which reminds you that you only have to open the throttle to thump away. Harleys are famous for their low down torque and it really did pull like a train.
 
Emergency braking doesn’t exactly stand the bike on its head, a bit of looking ahead is useful, but then the engine braking makes up for the lack of brake power. The front brake lever needs a very strong grip to achieve even moderate breaking.
 
The bike appeared quiet for a Harley, the local dealer told me it had been fitted with the US silencers which were restrictive. A pair of drag pipes and a free flow Screamin’ Eagle air filter were fitted. After the mixture screw was turned out half a turn it went a bloody sight faster and sounded like a Harley should [An unsilenced dumper truck perchance? - 2021 Ed.] - I was now able to burn off my mate's highly tuned X7 without even bothering to change down a gear.
 
People who say Harleys don't handle are talking out of their sphincter. Obviously, it doesn’t handle like a ZX10, but I can happily chuck it about. The low centre of gravity helps its stability. There were a few wobbles on tight corners, especially when it hit white lines, but this could have been down to the Bridgestone When I fitted a set of Avons it virtually vanished. The other thing causing a few frightening moments could’ve been the wheel bearings. They are supposed to have a bit of play in them (one MOT tester swore blind they do not) and you replace the spacers when they wear out - mine had.
 
Chain life was remarkably good, which surprised me - about 12080 miles on average, providing it was well cooked in Linklyfe now and again. One major disadvantage was the lack of a centre stand - you have to jack up the rear end to remove the rear wheel or adjust the chain. Not such a discomfort when you get used to it, but it makes roadside puncture repairs amusing if you can get that huge 140 section tyre off.
 
The guy at the dealers also told me about running it on straight 50 weight oil - the detergent in 20/50 disturbs all the crap in the engine. Engine maintenance is easy and simple. Only the ancient chain primary drive gives any cause for concern. Valve clearances are adjusted by tappets at the base of the pushrods - ten minutes. The electronic ignition is left alone. A screw-in car type oil filter is dead easy to change but don’t use a car replacement as the flow rate ain‘t the same.
 
Availability of parts is excellent and, contrary to popular belief, don't cost an arm and a leg. Which other bike can you buy almost every single part separately such as one screw, one switch etc. The most you have to wait is two weeks for it to come from the States. An after-market copy is usually available if the genuine part is hard to find. No other make of bike has so many after-market parts available [You're confusing 'parts' with 'stick-on chromed tat', I fear - 2021 Ed.].
 
These are mere details, ownership of a Harley is much more than the sum of its parts. The feel of the bike is entirely unique and does it turn heads - I'm sure if I wasn’t married that I'd have no trouble... I even left a nearly full pint in the pub once because I was itching to get back on it.
 
If you're thinking about buying one, now’s the time. They are not expensive compared to top Jap stuff and will last much longer [Just like Trigger's broom - 2021 Ed.] There are now loads of imported Harleys on sale, a 1340 Lowrider for £3800, anyone? You will never regret purchase of a Harley, I and every other Harley owner promise you that.
 
Rob Glenton

 

Suzuki GSXR1100

 

 

 

 

 
After an infuriating escapade with a bike which I had not test ridden before purchase, I vowed never again. That was my new year’s resolution in 1986. It lasted a mere seven weeks until the day I collected my new Suzuki GSXR1100 which, up until then, I'd not seen in the flesh. Working on the theory that lightning never strikes twice, I (and the Listening Bank) coughed up £4360 for the blue and white missile. In 3 years of ownership I've not been disappointed.
 
At the time, I wasn’t tempted by the GSXR750, which, although a superb bike, had earned a reputation for fragility and twitchy road manners during ‘85; I'd had enough of warranty issues and handling problems with my previous machine.  However, Suzuki had clearly learnt from the 750 experience and beefed up various essential bits of the 1100 (gearbox, engine and frame) with the result that the 1100 weighed in at 434lbs as opposed to the 388lbs of the 750. Even so, the 1100 was considerably lighter than its rivals.
 
The engine, unlike similar, rival sports machines, was oil cooled, developed a quoted 130hp fed by a 5-speed box to a 150 section rear tyre, suspended by Suzuki’s single shock Full Floater system.  The aluminium frame not only looked the business but has also proved strong and rigid, yet weighs a mere 18lbs. The massive front forks and 12" discs ensure that the bike is well up to life in the fast lane in the South East of England where the high proportion of Volvos demand much of the bike’s ability.
 
Enough of that, though! The glossies have already thrashed the thing - suffice to say that I reckon the bike's brilliant in all respects when used on the road rather than the track. It corners as if on rails, the engine delivers more than ample power and torque at all revs, the fairing keeps all but the worst of the wind and rain off, the brakes work wet or dry and the headlamps chuck out sufficient light to illuminate a football pitch. Even so, I'm not completely blinded by the machine's excellence: the GSXR does have some weaknesses.
 
First, the 4.2 gallon fuel tank is too small. It gives a maximum range of about 120 miles (much less if you‘re trying hard) before a reserve of allegedly just under a gallon (I've never tried to find out as I hate walking). Later models have a larger tank, but that’s no help to me and the location of petrol stations becomes an obsession on longer journeys.
 
I reckon Suzuki planned it that way as a distraction from the seat which, after (you've guessed it) 120 miles rapidly assumes the softness and comfort of a concrete block. In July last year I rode over 1000 miles in 24 hours round the A and B roads of the North of England - don't ask why. By the end of the trip I was walking like an inmate of a Turkish prison.
 
Equally, at lowish speeds the fairing works so well that without wind blast all your weight is supported on your arms and leads to unwelcome attacks of biker's back.  Nevertheless, I still use the bike for touring in the UK and the penalty free zones of Europe. Whilst the GSXR is not a tourer as such, it’s possible to carry a reasonable amount of gear, using a tank bag and one of M&P's small racks.
 
I rarely carry a passenger - I don't know anyone that daft - but on the few occasions I have, the seat’s subframe has shown a disturbing tendency to flex up and down.  Another bleat is that the GSXR is fitted with a side stand only. All very well for mass reduction, but a pain in the butt when trying to remove the back wheel or merely oiling the chain. A paddock stand is a must. I got mine from DEP in Kent for £28 and it’s worth every penny. Even more infuriating is that the stand self retracts, so you have to make sure the bike isn’t facing downhill when parked. Suzuki must do a roaring trade in left-hand lower fairing panels - I've yet to meet a GSXR owner who hasn't found his bike reclining horizontally at some time or another. Apparently, a bit can be sawn or filed off the stand to solve the problem but I've never bothered.  Incidentally, just to be different, mine fell over on the right side, but that’s another story.
 
Consumable wear was reasonable for the power and fun enjoyed, but would give hackers terminal nightmares. Metzelers work well, 4000 back and 8000 miles from the front tyre. Chain and sprockets lasted 125000 miles (Really?? - 2021 Ed.) and cost £180 to replace with genuine items, although I could have saved £37 not replacing the wheel sprocket which was barely worn. Whenever I remove the back wheel I dismantle and grease the suspension linkage - an easy job which takes about an hour. Pads last around 7000 miles (the feel of the brakes was improved by fitting Goodridge hoses). With the ultra high performance available only a fool would neglect consumables.
 
I keep meaning to do something about the useless mirrors, which give a good view of your shoulders when they are not vibrating in tune with the engine, it’s amazing that I still have a driving licence left. Two years back I fitted a Vine & Hines exhaust, not so much for the claimed extra power but to get rid of the hideous standard silencer which must be the ugliest bit of the bike. Why don’t Motad do a Neta replacement? After three months the old pipe was reinstalled because of the noise. Not that I have much of a social conscience, more because I was fed up with headaches and sticking a into my ears every time I took the bike out.
 
As far as the engine is concerned it’s been trouble free, as expected. Hopefully the GSXR engine will carry on the reputation for robustness and longevity of the GS and GSx. It’s serviced by a dealer every 3500 miles and I change the oil every 1750 miles. There has been a minor oil seepage between head and barrel but this is contained by having the head tightened down between services.
 
The only real problems have been electrical. I've had two tachos replaced under warranty. The tacho scale starts at 3000rpm and the owners handbook recommends a 1000-1200rpm tickover! The other electrical glitch was a duff coil (£35), apparently a common failure. The anti-dive solenoids gave up the ghost when water found its way into the housing on the fork leg. Re-soldering one joint and cleaning with WD40 solved the problem, but resetting the solenoid a very amusing without a manual.
 
Miscellaneous niggles: the fairing is flimsy (weight saving again) and has cracked around the mirror mounting bolts; so too has one of the side panels - nothing that Araldite can’t mend; the zip on my jacket scratches the back of the tank and one of the front discs has warped (but not enough to merit replacement).
 
Finally, various motorcycle mags have said that GSXR1100s are fitted with a restrictor in the exhaust to keep power output down to he 125bhp limit. I went through the rigmarole of taking off the exhaust to derestrict mine. I shouldn't have bothered, there weren’t any. It would we that only later models are fitted with restrictors.
 
So am I happy with my GSXR? You bet! Its the bike I've kept longest and I can’t see me selling it in the foreseeable future. I accept that it’s fairly expensive to run and that it has its share of unwelcome idiosyncrasies, but then no machine is perfect. I've had years of fun from mine and that’s what motorcycling is all about. Would I be tempted by the '89 model? Maybe, but it’d have a hard act to follow and, anyway, I never buy a I bike without a test ride, do I?
 
E.C.V. Gibson