Getting out of London was a whole new ballgame. I mean these bikes are big as in really big and heavy. There’s just no way you can chuck ‘em around to beat the traffic flow. It’s just a case of keeping up with the general traffic flow and filtering slowly to the traffic light queue, then you can blast away in first to the next snarl up, 300 yards ahead. Frustrating and, with that much weight, tiring. By the time I hit the motorway I felt totally exhausted and didn’t give a shit about top speeds or roll on acceleration. I just left the Kat in top and cruised along at a gentle 80mph, tucking in behind the minimal fairing. At this sedate velocity there was plenty of wind protection and I felt quite comfortable, feeling as though I was sitting in the bike rather than perched upon it. A strange thought crossed my mind that the Suzuki would make an excellent tourer.
I quickly dismissed the notion, after all, no-one in their right mind would purchase such a fast and powerful machine for such mundane use, would they? I passed a BMW K100 rider cruising at a sensible 70mph. Well, there’s always one. It was sunny but cold at six the next morning. The Kat was reluctant to tick over - full choke meant a berserk 4500rpm but any reduction meant it stalled. I finally settled on half choke and blipped the throttle to keep it going. The noise was amazing, a deep and aggressive bark through the totally shot silencers. Every blip brought another irate face to a window. Poor sods, I thought, it'll be weeks before I can afford to put that right.
I headed straight for the motorway, I wasn’t going to muck about. Warm it up and see what it'd do. The road was clear, the engine hot and my adrenalin was in control. Desperately trying to keep some grip on my senses, I slowly opened up in top. Up to 90mph everything was fine, nothing I couldn’t and hadn't handled before. Then it really took off, almost literally as the front wheel went light and my arms were almost yanked off. Before I knew what was happening, 120mph was on the clock, accompanied by a snaky weave - a reflex action made me back off. Sure, all you heroes out there would just ride through it but not me, not at that kind of speed with that much bulk. Besides, the skimpy fairing directed the wind straight at my head and neck in a constant series of blasts - at 120mph this was like being continually punched in the face. Tucking right down improved things but would soon become uncomfortable on a long run, not that you're going to get that far at that kind of speed on British roads.
Up to 115mph the handling was secure and stable in an almost Italian way. The bike felt big and steered slow - anyone used to modern bikes would find it hard work indeed to wrestle it through mere motorway curves! A new rear tyre allowed the beast to reach an indicated 125mph before the weave became really unacceptable. The problem was that I was becoming used to travelling fast and began to feel cheated. I really had to see at least 130mph on the clock to justify ownership of such a powerful monster. Stupidly, I tried for it.
Rock steady to 125mph, then the frightening weave and then sheer horror. The handlebars shook viciously from lock to lock, whilst the bike lurched towards the armco. All I could do was hold on and try to wrench it back on line whilst closing down the throttle, After a succession of three lane lurches, I finally regained control and rode home at virtually moped speeds, thanking every god that I could think of for my safe deliverance. Investigations revealed no discernible chassis wear or slop, so I could only conclude that the hidden deterioration as a consequence of 35000 miles was such as to upset high speed stability. This was much more apparent off the motorways. My favourite twisty roads were reduced to a boring slog as the bike was just too big and heavy to wield easily through the curves. Worse still, it was dangerously under-braked despite the presence of three discs. The rear disc is just a joke, it either locked up the back wheel or didn’t work at all. The front brakes faded radically after a couple of hard stops. Fitment of new pads helped not one bit. I was told that the anti-dive was to blame - a real insult as it hardly worked. It took a detour through a hedge to convince me of the bike’s total unsuitability as a scratcher.
After the hedge incident, the exhaust system became an urgent matter - a 110hp, 1000cc motor really does make a racket without any silencers, although my main concern was that the engine was running weak and thus hot. I ended up fitting a pattern system for a hundred notes, as these bikes are so tough and rare there were none in breakers.
To really appreciate the bike I felt I had to take it on a tour of Scotland. Two up, with camping gear, the weave set in at 110mph, but apart from that the extra load caused no ill effects on the motorways. The pillion was not amused by the lack of a grab rail. I was dead impressed by its ability to cover such a huge distance so effortlessly, there was no vibration and as I became tired I really appreciated the excess of torque that made gear changing virtually redundant. The final drive chain proved a real pig, needing adjustment every 250 miles, which really pissed me right off.
On the mountain roads of Scotland the Kat became a real pain. The ridiculous mass made gentle riding strenuous and any attempt at anything more sporty was instantly curtailed after we nearly didn’t make it around one bend. On long descents the useless brakes forced me to stay in a low gear. By the end of the tour I had lost most of my enthusiasm for the Kat, not helped any by the fact that on my return home the chain was totally shot. Pack a couple of thousand miles into a week and you really notice how expensive some bikes are to run!
Rear chains last between 2000 and 4000 miles, which also knocks out the sprockets! Fuel is slurped through the four cylinders at 30mpg and oil consumed at 40mpp! Insurance is horrendous if you are at all young. It’s cheaper to run a two litre car! By 40000 miles problems began to emerge. Front brake calipers gave up the ghost, the alternator burnt out and the swinging arm bearings were shot. At 49000 miles the repaired alternator was shot again.
By 50000 miles the forks had more slop than a tart’s arse, so much so that venturing beyond 100mph was sheer stupidity. The handling had lost all precision and was fast becoming akin to a Z1 or early CB750. It forced me ride slowly, but I still had to incur the massive running costs. The motor was still reliable, in 20000 miles I just changed the oil regularly and balanced the carbs once. I never even looked at the valves.
The pattern exhaust disintegrated as soon as the guarantee expired, so I hacksawed off the silencers and fitted some from a breaker - total cost £1! The noise was horrific. I was convinced that I'd be either nicked for disturbing the peace or that the pistons would burn out consequently, I rarely rode the bike. The bike looked a mess, there seemed no point in pouring in consumables when I could go no faster than a good 400. I sold it for £650, surely a bargain as a bit of dosh spent on the suspension, brakes and swinging arm might have made it handle reasonably, and I was sure the motor would last.
Andy Everett