Enough of the heavy irony [that'll be sarcasm actually - 2021 Ed.], you lucky bastard, I hear you mutter. Well, those readers who have just puked up in envious disgust will be pleased to know that there was a downside, which I'll come to a little later. The official review will by now have long appeared in the national press. Here is a brief report on our tour together with a few alternative thoughts on these bikes, which readers may like to bear in mind when the '89 models have depreciated sufficiently to be within reach of mere mortals or they win the pools.
The four of use took off one fine August morning and headed north from Shit City (as I believe London is fondly referred to in these pages) up the M11. The intention was to tour Scotland, where we'd put the bikes through their paces, swapping machines every 100 miles or so and compare notes. At the end of the tour, Mr Tester would have all the gen for his article. As we are all hitched and over 30, with one exception, I was expecting a fairly sedate fling, particularly as one of our party was a semi-retired motorcyclist, and I myself am a relatively green, born again biker.
Sedate would not have been the most appropriate adjective to describe our activities over the week. It requires remarkable self control to keep these brutes at speeds which are legal in the UK. Having said that, they feel very safe even at silly speeds. The performance is exhilarating and nothing on four wheels can touch you. In fact, after a few days of high speed biking, your perception of what are safe speeds shifts to the point where normal traffic seems to crawl along. 30mph Volvos are to all intents and purposes stationary (until they move into your path - Ed). Needless to say, this state of mind can be dangerous.
We picked up the A1 north of Cambridge, filtering past the worst of the August traffic jams. We hit Yorkshire in the evening, spending the first night in the Dales. We were starting to get the hang of the bikes and had some fun the next day, heading up through Cumbria on the way to Glasgow. From our base north of Glasgow, we went across and down to Kintyre. On the way to Mull we passed through a town where a Pepsi RGV250 was strategically parked.
The lad who owned it must keep an eye out for passing bikers because he came after us spoiling for a race. We had pulled off the road to find out where we were - he went flying past, came back, gave us directions and then raced us down the road. He won. Only because he knew the road, of course, although a hot 250 was more suited to the twisty stuff than a litre superbike, though I wouldn't fancy touring on one!
Then north. Loch Ness: wet and full of tourists. Glen Coe: wet but breathtaking. Fort William: wet and boring, but notable for a greasy cafe waiter who claimed to have seen every gig in every country performed by Jean Michel Jarre (who? - Ed). Inverness: a lovely town with a ridiculous one-way system, where we stayed with a very nice B & B owner, who helped us try to track down a tyre for the Suzuki.
From Inverness we headed up into the Highlands where on one memorable occasion we were buzzed by an RAF Phantom. After a couple of supersonic passes he waggled his wings and flew on, about 200 feet above ground level. Obviously a fellow motorcyclist when not terrorising the deer. We saw some lovely scenery when the weather permitted and achieved impressive speeds on deserted roads. Which brings me nicely to the next part of my story.
Let me introduce you to Karl. He's a gentle Austrian of 22 who used to ride a Transalp and currently a BMW R80GS which he doesn't like. He’s a nice boy who wouldn't say boo to a goose. But beneath Kari’s angelic Teutonic features lurks a demon speed junkie. In particular, he loves to overtake at unlikely moments and at spectacular speeds whilst you're concentrating on keeping your own bike set up for the next bend. His personal best was 165mph on the Yamaha, on a road in Scotland which shall remain nameless. Unfortunately, I was the next one to ride the Yamaha - you can imagine my dismay to see that the back tyre had started to melt. Gosh, perhaps they’re only rated at 15O0mph.
Well, there had to be some problems with this scam. Yes, indeed. For a start we didn’t get paid, which isn’t on, is it? No, that wasn’t a serious complaint. I did get soaked several times, in spite of my brand new Frank Thomas waterproof oversuit ruined leathers and wet willy were the result. The Suzuki got a flat somewhere north of Inverness and had to be ferried home by the RAC. The tyres are fairly exotic and we couldn't find a replacement. The return journey was much less fun, four up on three bikes in the wet.
The Kawasaki fell over (very gently from rest, minimal damage) and I got stung with a bill for £824! Needless to say, this has been the subject of some discussion. Interestingly, the Honda took a much heavier fall at a cost of twenty smackers. The Honda CBR1000 was very probably the best all rounder, but without the wrap-around aluminium frames of the others it flexes a bit and can wallow in the bends (relatively speaking). Best finished bike with superior controls.
The ZX-10 feels very safe, and is the best motorway bike. Good anchors, flat spot and vibes at low revs, but liveable. The engine makes a beautiful howl when it gets going. Expensive to repair! The Yamaha FZR1000 EXUP is definitely more of a racer. Ridiculous amount of grunt means less gear work than the Kawasaki and Honda. Feels small, hardly bigger than my own YPVS but goes a whole lot faster. Redlining through the gears is impossible unless you are Austrian and called Karl. Handles like a dream in the twisties and then takes off like mad on the straights. Finish is fairly poor.
The Suzuki GSXR1100K is, in my view, a real dog, despite an impressive oil cooled, well proven engine. Perhaps it wasn’t set up right but it felt like it wanted to lie down in the bends. I also developed an. ailment referred to as Suzuki Balls, due to the uncompromising riding position and poorly shaped tank. Not a bike for that guy in Viz comic who has unfeasibly large testicles. Maybe that’s an idea for the next strip: Buster Gonad and the GSX Suzuki. Gives new meaning to the term balls out racer.
So, what's the bottom line on these bikes? For me, it has to be that they are brilliant fun, handle well and have great brakes and tyres. Also, only bikes of this size and mass are stable enough to allow confident motorway riding in very wet and gusty conditions. Having said that, the other side of the coin is that they are unrealistically priced, far too heavy for day to day use and grossly overpowered for most of Britain's roads. Maintenance costs would put me off too.
To be perfectly frank, I get just as much pleasure from my own YPVS which is far more chuckable and only half as frightening when you give it a wristful. As well as being a more practical proposition, it is also a fraction of the cost to insure and run.
However, if money was no object, or if one of these machines came up for grabs a few years down. the line at a halfway reasonable price, I could just be tempted...
R. Kelsall
I had to have it. I read and re-read every road test of it. 148mph top speed, 120hp, the standing quarter in just 114 seconds and an engine that had its roots in the ultra tough DOHC Z1... and it could all be mine. First impressions were a little disappointing. My immediate reaction was blimey, it’s heavy, hope I don’t drop it on the first roundabout. The clutch lever travels a long way before you start to move; adjusting it makes little difference as it releases over too short a range.
The suspension and anti-dive is firm with little front end dive when hauling on the brakes, the best I've experienced with just the right feel for my tastes. They've got me out of trouble on a few occasions. Even after two and a half years it still feels a big, heavy bike which it certainly is at 570lbs with a gallon of fuel.
It's a handful around bends, the performance is at the top end of the rev scale, 120hp at 8750rpm with peak torque of 73ibft at 8000rpm. This is a nuisance as you have to dial in 6000rpm before it wakes up and by the time you've got it wound up, it’s time to throttle off as yet another four wheel tin box gets in the way. The riding position has you crunched up racer style which, whilst being right at 100mph, is a pain when riding around town getting stuck in traffic jams. In town, your wrists and lower back soon start complaining.
My girlfriend preferred the pillion of my 1980 Suzuki GS1000, due to its deeply padded, squashy seat - on the Kawasaki, pillions catch too much wind blast over the top of the rider. The heavy handling causes my riding style to be much more ragged than when I’m on the Suzuki. I still haven't mastered the GPz, every journey is like the first time I rode the bike and I can only relax on the odd occasion when I have some room to get up some speed and fall into a fast, swooping, uninterrupted rhythm.
The half fairing gives better protection than the GS and I find that I can cruise at an almost comfortable 110mph on the Kawasaki compared with just 90mph on the Suzuki. The mirrors could be much better as the rear view is minimal. I've only done 6000 miles in the time I've owned the bike as I only like to use it for day trips and town blasts rather than all out touring. I’ve replaced all three sets of brake pads recently (EBC and £14.50 per set), a set of tyres once (they were on the way out when I bought the bike) and the chain adjustment has been minimal.
The engine is fuel injected, controlled by a black box housed in the tail section that costs £400 to replace if it should go wrong. There are a range of sensors for engine temperature and speed, air temperature and throttle openings. Perhaps it is in the nature of two valves per cylinder designs, at large capacity, to require fuel injection to make lots of power. On the fuel tank is a LCD display with warning lights for oil and battery levels, fuel injector faults and a fuel gauge which is way too pessimistic.
From early after I got the bike, the engine misfired when I tried to rev past 6000rpm with the fuel injector warning light flashing on momentarily. As the bike would still do 100mph I was in no hurry to sort it out. The exhaust pipe gaskets soon blew and I had trouble with the side stand cut out switch. I replaced the gaskets by myself which is an incredibly fiddly job because you have to line up all four pipes whilst trying to stop all four gaskets and eight split collets from falling out.
After replacing the side stand switch, I still had the problem of the bike misfiring on its erratic, juddery way past 6000rpm. Eventually, one night, seven miles from home it wouldn’t start. I fiddled with all the connections and battery leads to no avail. It was completely dead. I had to have the bike picked up. The fault? An engine temperature sensor - cost, £25 plus pick up and labour, £70.
An exhaust gasket blew again. Once more I fiddled with four gaskets, eight split collets and four pipes. Soon after, they blew yet again. I swore at the bike and threatened it with the horrors of a visit to the dealers. So far, the last set have lasted.
The bike has had an oil leak, the starter motor oil seal was the prime suspect. Having to replace half a pint of oil every 200 miles or so (less if not thrashed) was getting expensive as I use Silkolene 10/40. I’ve changed to Shell Gemini due to its greater availability. At its first service since my ownership, the oil leak was judged to be coming from the air box, oil dripping down onto the starter motor cover, as this could have been expensive I decided to ignore it for the moment.
The bike also weaves at 100 plus mph solo, which wasn’t cured by fitting new tyres. Maybe the suspension settings or Unitrak bushes are to blame? The half fairing meant it was susceptible to side winds and the whole plot could become quite frightening two up in heavy gusts.
The engine idle speed sensor was also under suspicion since tick over was erratic and the bike would often conk out unless you kept blipping the throttle. Luckily, it only needed the injectors balanced. This helped my riding to become smoother as there was no longer a degree of uncertainty connected with whether or not the engine would respond properly.
The police didn’t seem to like the bike much. Going up a hill at 55mph when the clutch went and I was stopped by the plod who gave me a ticket for speeding in a 30mph zone. He didn't offer to help push the bike up the hill either. It was seven yards push, stop and rest, seven yards again. I was only a mile from home but it took ages - I was drenched in sweat, shaking with muscle tension and my back ached for weeks afterwards.
If this makes the bike seem a bit of a pain in the arse it does have a good side. Once all the faults were fixed, I was able to take it up to 130mph two up, and I could have done much more except that my pillion was getting thrown off the back by the wind pressure. It looks impressive, but can be confused with the 550 from a distance and, these days, looks a little dated, although I do like the overall appearance. In the main, a good sploshing with hot, soapy water and a sponge keeps it clean.
When cruising for any distance on a bendy route, where you have to keep the speed down, I find engine vibration through the bars gives me severe pins and needles in my hands after 15 to 20 miles. The later Kawasakis, from the RX range on, were rubber mounted, a pity it wasn't done well enough on the GPz. It's also very noteworthy that Kawasaki have now dropped the fuel injectors.
Other problems... downshifts need the gears engaged firmly, if you don’t you will get false neutrals; the suspension settings require too much pissing about so are left as they are; battery removal requires lots of bits taking off the bike (to be fair, it’s very sturdy and has never failed to turn the engine over), and the fuel pump and injectors make an annoying noise when the ignition is switched on.
The bike went into a Kawasaki dealer due to the high oil consumption. They found a heavy build up of carbon and a broken ring on one piston, a camchain in need of replacement despite only 20000 miles and the rear shock started leaking. Given the complexity of this bike’s electrics, and its apparent fragility, I have to say that I wouldn't buy another, although I'll keep this one as I can’t afford to trade it in. My conclusion is that the GPz1100 certainly does not live up to its makers reputation. Just to cap it all, I've just had to replace yet another engine temperature sensor...
Dave Vincent
The CG125 was bought through my daughter, who in claiming I could fix anything, introduced me to a friend's father who had a dead CG on his hands. The bike was original, not too much rust, 9500 miles on the clock and plenty of compression.
The previous owner had fitted a new battery, points and plug, but this had failed to do the trick. There was a fat spark and petrol was getting through - it took only a little time to suss that the choke was the problem. Exactly an hour after taking delivery she was sitting there ticking over like a little sewing machine, a testament to the design integrity of Honda's OHV single.
Being six feet tall and 14 stone I had always ridden bikes of 250cc and above, and at first the CG felt rather small. But it was reasonably comfortable during the 40 mile a day round trip to the school where I taught, and the little gem of an engine made up for any other shortcomings.
That engine started first kick, warmed up quickly, ticked over evenly and pulled like a train no matter how low the revs dropped. My journey takes me from beside the sea, up to about 600 feet and back down again each trip. The CG, much to my amazement first time out, did it in top gear all the way. Only on days when the headwinds reached Force 6 did I have to change down a cog, but even then one was always sufficient.
One week, a colleague of similar proportions to myself had his four wheel box in for some drastic surgery and I offered him a pillion ride. He accepted, and apart from being a bit cramped on the seat, thoroughly enjoyed the week’s travel. Apart from the steering being a little lighter and the rear shocks bottoming out on a few pot-holes, the little CG took it all in its stride.
OK, compared to a sports bike it would probably come out pretty badly, but that misses the point. This is a nice, simple, straightforward bike that is aimed straight at commuter land where most of its owners wouldn't recognise the antiquity of its twin shocks, although at times they might begin to wonder at the lack of power of its small drum brakes and would probably be thankful that the rear chain is fully enclosed. The chassis is old tech and dubious under extreme use but adequate at up to 60mph.
Over two years I added 17000 miles onto the clock and it always returned a genuine 110 miles to the gallon. It never used a drop of oil between changes every 2500 miles and, apart from routine adjustment, only needed two tyres and a clutch cable. It never once let me down, not even a puncture.
One sad day, about a year ago, a boy came rushing up to the staff room at lunchtime. "Your bike’s on fire, Sir.” Somebody had pulled off the petrol pipe and thrown matches on the fuel. The little CG, despite all efforts, was burnt out.
A replacement had to be found, and quickly. The MZ had been sat outside a house, its owner claimed he only did 30 miles a year on it! It was very original with 8000 miles on the clock, the only rust on the exhaust. It had two new Metzelers and a new battery but wouldn't start. Once home, the carbs were cleaned out and set correctly, along with the ignition, and after a few kicks it burst into two stroke single life. I rode it to school the next day but was far from impressed. It took a lot of kicking to start, it vibrated and shook, the gearchange was like a concrete mixer and it wouldn't have pulled the knickers off a stripper.
After countless hours fiddling and adjusting, plus a lot of trial and error, I eventually cleared up most of the vibration. The motor always fired up third of fourth kick and the acceleration was much cleaner. It even pulled slightly better, but not a lot. I even managed to eliminate the clunk-clunk-clunk on the overrun. Mind you, I had to eliminate the tickover as well to achieve it.
I tried just about everything to get the gearbox to work properly - from different oil grades to double clutching. From the length of the gear pedal I reckon all East Germans must wear size 15 Jackboots. I have resigned myself to just kicking it through, convinced that some day the whole lot is going to fall out onto the road. Despite all this, however, I have covered over 7000 miles in a year without any major breakdowns. It has never refused to start in that time, nor has it failed to bring me home.
Comfort is quite good and even with a pillion there’s enough room. The suspension is stiffer than on the CG, less likely to bottom out, especially with a pillion on board. At commuter speeds the advantages that the MZ chassis is supposed to have over small Japs is not really apparent. I had never felt really unsafe on the CG and its nicer motor was always much more reassuring that the MZ lump that often sounded like it was near to death.
Economy is very disappointing. Even when ridden sedately it has never returned better than 60mpg, which drops to worse than 50mpg into headwinds or ridden hard. Every two gallons also consumes a third of a pint of Shell's best two stroke oil and you have to mix it in yourself.
If I had to buy a new one I think I‘d go for the Honda because I feel it is such a dependable motorcycle. If the MZ had a four stroke motor then maybe the equation would be different, but then it wouldn’t be an MZ, would it? Exactly the same rationale applies to buying a used one, although, to be fair, MZ engines are supposed to go on forever and spares are cheaper.
My end of year report goes something like this:
Honda: Reliability 10, Engine 10, Gearbox 9, Economy 10, Comfort 7
MZ : Reliability 9, Engine 4, Gearbox 1, Economy 5, Comfort 8
CG125: This little bike goes well, is ultra reliable even when neglected, has a superb engine and is exceptionally economical. Two minor complaints are that it’s slightly cramped for a large rider and the braking is only just adequate.
MZ250: This bike, despite its engine size, falls far short of its potential: While being reliable and comfortable to ride, its acceleration and top speed leave a lot to be desired. The gearbox is terrible and economy far below that of the Honda.
CG, go to the top of the class!
Davy McBride
Honda made the bike from the CB550/4 when the 650cc class became popular again, boring the engine out to suit. The result was that | purchased a 626cc four cylinder, air cooled jump with only a single cam driving two valves per cylinder. The Keihin carbs gave a reasonable response and let the engine work smoothly over the full rev range. However, the over baffled standard exhaust system, a four into two, cut out a lot of the bike’s potential and seemed to smother it at times. When one of the baffles went, rather than spend the money replacing it with another unit, I fitted a four into one Micron with excellent results. The engine’s response became more perky and it revved with greater ease, but at the cost of noise - many’s the time a police car followed me about and I had to keep the engine below 2500rpm to avoid the inevitable investigation.
Honda never quite got the hang of British weather conditions, always insisting on fitting crap Japanese tyres that were about as useful as rear view mirrors are to Volvo drivers. One of the first things I did was to invest in a pair of Pirellis and let myself breathe a sigh of relief. Once I'd changed the exhaust system, like a good little boy, I checked the mixture, aware of Honda’s dire warnings of the effect on engine longevity of using non standard parts. To my surprise, however, it needed absolutely no adjustment, the plugs a beautiful light biscuit brown in colour. So, happy, I screamed the hell out of it; oh, wonderful times.
The new tyres, soon burnt in, hogged the road no matter what I threw at it. Corners that were previously worrying became long, footrest scrapers, the edges of my boots wearing down to a nice chamfered finish. The exhaust gave a new lease of life to the top end power and effortlessly whizzed me across the country. Power wheelies in first had become a reality, the front wheel pawing the air like a demented stallion trying to buck its rider.
I loved every minute of it. Honda could never have imagined the wild beast they created, timidly cowering behind so few and simple modifications, waiting to be unleashed. One summer, on a trip to Lands End, from my campsite in Perrenporth, I came upon three bikes tooling down the winding country lanes surrounding the A30. There were two Suzuki GS750s and a Kawasaki Z650. They were (shock, horror) racing each other and not paying much attention to the road behind. I came up to join the tail end of the group from around a long, sweeping right-hander, grounding my pegs all the way round. The road straightened and they started to pull away, the extra horses giving them the edge.
But the straights were well outnumbered - ten to one - by bends of every description on these roads and I soon caught them again. I flicked the bike right down to greet a bend that curved before me, sliding past on the outside of the two Suzukis. The rev needle bounced into the red with every gear change, the exhaust screaming defiantly at the fast retreating figures. Only the Kawasaki was left out front. Slowly I crept closer to its rear light. The rider laid the bike into a quick left and back for another right. We were side by side. I hunched over the black tank, legs gripping the beast in a lovers embrace. I passed him. A furtive glance in the vibrating mirror showed a fuzzy, but distinct, surprised face. I think I howled in pleasure. When we arrived at Lands End I went over to say what a great ride it was, but they ignored me; sore losers to the end.
The results of bashes like that meant the bike had to be serviced regularly. The camchain adjuster is located in the middle of the fins at the front and the spring tensioner wasn’t very strong and needed to be coerced to work. This was done by putting the bike in top gear on the centre stand and turning the back wheel a couple of times to help take up the slack. Honda don’t recommend this, but I found it to be the best way (also a few well placed hits with a spanner on the lock nut seemed to help).
The oil change was easy, the pipes of the exhaust designed to give plenty of room for access to the filter. Checking the tappet clearance involved taking the tank right off to expose the inspection covers, but the job itself was straightforward when done with the proper manual, spanners and feeler gauges. Brakes on the thing were twin discs on the front, but a drum on the back. I found that in heavy braking the drum would overheat and become spongy, but the discs always performed at peak level. Pads were only a few pounds each and I went through a lot. That was because of riding flat out and stopping on the ball all the time.
Suspension was conventional stuff, the back end needed stiffer springs to get it taut enough to throw through the bends without the bike having a fit. The machine felt well balanced indeed and with the 4-1 weight was down to 430lbs, a lack of mass that helped both acceleration and handling. It also made sure that fuel consumption was usually around 50mpg.
Two things narked me about the bike, both very minor. The first was that cornering eventually wore off the protruding lug used to put the bike on its centre stand. The other was that there was an awful lot of chrome on it - I think Honda must have had shares in Solvol Autosol. It did look great when polished, though.
As mentioned earlier, I had a spectacular crash, completely writing the bike off in the eyes of the insurance company. Except Honda had made such a rugged machine that £250 later it was back on the road again. It happened, though, through no fault of my own, at a MAG camping rally after that famous ride from Kent to Trafalgar Square back in ‘81. The site was in Upminster - it was called the First Loony Bike Rally and groups like Sam Apple Pie played at the clubhouse.
I was riding back from the bogs, travelling across a field skirted with trees lining a trench a small stream ran through. The track paralleled the trees and some complete and utter twat was jumping the stream on his 125 trials bike. As I came down the track he landed in front of me from between the trees, stopping to look at me in horror. The collision was unavoidable. I still have memories to this day of what happened next. I felt the ground rise up and hit me, dim warnings shrilling through my brain that I wasn’t wearing a lid.
Instinctively I curled up into a ball, the world revolving in a crazy whirl of blue sky and green grass, my head protected by my arms. It was then that I saw my bike. For a fleeting second, as the sky was replaced by the ground, I saw the 650 cartwheeling across the field, front wheel over the back wheel in a slow motion acrobatic display that my adrenalin charged brain calmly registered for later use.
And the damage? Well, to me and the other guy, none - but I did take a week off work and complained to my doctor of neck pains and things, letting the crash go on my medical record. It’s amazing how that simple trick bumps up the insurance claim by a good few hundred pounds. The bike suffered only slightly worse. Apart from the usual bent bars and broken bits of plastic, the worst was the forks - the bike had shortened its wheelbase by about a foot, and was a good six inches taller. It was impossible to ride and a council van took it home for only a small wedge of the folding stuff.
The insurance investigator shook his head and tutted, muttering those magic words - write off. The grand I received (only £700 until I shouted sickness and injury) let me buy the bike back as scrap for fifty quid, put it back on the road for £250 more and leave me laughing all the way to the bank. I had the frame checked by the local Honda dealer in Romford, a clean bill of health.
Despite having its roots in the early seventies CB500 four, the CB650, for all its lack of excessive cams and valves, was a jolly good bike. Easy to service, easy to ride and easy on the pocket to run, I only traded it in for a CB900F2 because my ego ejaculated when I saw one going cheap. Now that was one hell of a bike, as well.
D. O’Neill
Basic layout is shared with the XS250 to the extent that you can turn a 250 into a 400 by swapping over top ends. Given the large numbers of thrashed 250s around, this is a useful factor in spares acquisition because a non-running 250 can be picked up for less than £50. Basic problems with the XS concern difficult starting, quick rot suspension and swinging arm bearing wear. Engines can have the life thrashed out of them in less than 20000 miles, yet can run for three times that if given a little attention and frequent oil changes.
Typical of engines of such a simple design, fuel economy can be very good. A best of 80mpg can be achieved when pottering around, 60mpg is usually quite possible and the very worst was 40mpg against a head wind of huge proportions under full steam - such poor economy, though, was very rare. Perhaps economy is helped by the fact that the engine is so simple to maintain and things like valves stay within limits for a very long time.
Top speed is 110mph on the clock, although this requires some very favourable conditions. There are times when it’s impossible to push it past 95mph. 90mph cruising is just about possible but the cramped riding position for a tall rider makes this less than comfortable. The whole bike feels so much more pleasant at 80mph that a relatively legal pace is encouraged.
Vibration is present, especially at low speeds when the engine seems quite rough. It starts to smooth out once the revs are above 6000rpm and then starts to become bad again if you venture beyond 9500rpm. It’s hardly any worse than the complex Superdream, though not as smooth as a Suzuki GS400 but much better than a Triumph 500. The vibes don’t seem to wreck any cycle parts and at least it’s not necessary to keep looking at the clocks to find out what the engine's doing.
Extracting speed from the XS400 requires a little work and gives a feeling of accomplishment. Keeping up with a modern bike turns the ride into an exciting event as the whole plot bucks and weaves, the gearbox tap-danced to let the motor spin to the redline and the Motad takes on a soulful howl. On paper the XS could be dismissed as very bland, on the road it’s an exciting little hustler, if only because most of the chassis is dangerously worn out.
The engine has a decided knack to starting it. You can leave the keys in it and by the time you get back any thief will be so knackered that you can smash him into a pulp before handing him over to the authorities. If the points have been well set up (every 3000 miles) it’s possible to get it into life after a mere four kicks if you know the right moves and throw in a few prayers. Sometimes nasty atmospheric conditions means it’s a real bugger. Old, worn wiring might be the culprit.
One bike was fitted with electronic ignition, which for 10000 miles gave much improved starting but then it became very erratic indeed. An electric starter is fitted but it only has an effect once the engine is well warmed up useful if you stall in traffic but otherwise a waste of time. Generally, electrics were fine with none of the Suzuki tendency to burn out all the electrical components. A very neat touch were the self-cancelling indicators. Every bike should have them fitted.
Once running, though, it gives every indication of giving its all without complaint. Both bikes I have owned have had a slight oil weep between head and cylinder, but this never became worse and had no ill effects on the performance. I took my first XS400 on the continent for a tour that involved all kinds of riding, from flat out, full throttle work to crawling through town. The bike’s light mass meant it was very chuckable and the revvy nature of the engine allowed it to be thrashed without any apparent ill effects.
It must be said, though, that I favour small bikes where it’s possible to use most of the power for most of the time. People used to big tourers would probably find the need to rush up and down the six speed box a large pain... horses for courses. I find the XS great for despatching in Shit City.
The swinging arm bearings need replacing every 8000 miles sometimes this can be a real pain as the bits refuse to come apart unless violently attacked with a drift and very big hammer. Only the foolhardy will venture out in the wet as the front disc is a period piece best suited to a museum, it would take a few more years before the Japs sussed how to make discs work in the wet. The rear disc tended to lock up the back wheel when the bike was ridden solo. The front pads lasted for 10000 miles and the rear pads never seemed to wear out. The drive chain could be like an elastic band in less than 10000 miles - a great shame on such a low powered bike. Surely, Yamaha could do better than this.
Handling was not particularly good. I suspect that spending dosh on rear shocks that worked and a fork brace would solve all the problems, but I wasn’t inclined to spend more than the bike was worth on such extravagance. Even stripping down the forks and fitting new seals to stop the oil leaks seemed like a lot of hard work. The overall impression was more of shock than absorb. Riding fast with shot shocks and swinging arm bearings is most disconcerting because the bike feels like it is about to fling you off the back at any moment. Throw in some balding tyres and you can only thank god for the NHS.
Once, a rear tyre puncture with pillion and luggage aboard was so frightening that the young lady on the back left scar tissue on my shoulder as she clung on for dear life. Her sun tan seemed to have disappeared once we dismounted. It was only on long hard thrashes that I began to really yearn for a modern, stable and agile rocket ship. After hours in the seat, every lurch and wobble seems to be magnified - after a days hard ride I was often well dead.
Both my bikes had non standard exhausts fitted, which bears out the rumour that stock exhausts rot away rapidly. Motad’s two into one system suits the engine very well, although a new one costs more than many bikes. The bikes are cheap to buy. I only paid £300 each, and those were bought from dealers in relatively good condition. They can be found much cheaper than that in the private market, although a lot of them will be well knackered. I did 30000 miles on the first, putting 40000 miles on the clock. It didn’t actually blow up, just that so many different components had come to the end of their life simultaneously that it wasn’t a viable proposition to put right.
With the first bike as a spare I expect to push the second bike well past 50000 miles. The Yamaha looks just like a proper motorcycle should and represents cheap, enjoyable motorcycling and as a form of entertainment is very hard to beat for the money.
Nigel Partridge
While there is a reasonably sophisticated traffic plan, the volume of traffic at any time other than the dead of night is so great that the only way to make deliveries with any speed is on two wheels. This goes for everyone - the services like food and catering as well as office deliveries and personal business transport.
In this respect, the situation is very like that in Europe for 15 years after the war, except that in Europe the widespread use of working motorcycles had more to do with lack of funds than true utility. In Japan, in 1990, the fact is that in all but the most rural towns, there is no point in a small business buying a van as they might do in the UK. It is illegal to operate a car or van unless you have an off-street parking space for it - which makes vans very expensive.
In response to this situation, all the motorcycle companies produce a range of purpose built commercial bikes, and a thriving industry has grown up selling bolt on racks and carriers of an amazing variety to take advantage of the last bit of load carrying capacity.
These working bikes fall into two categories - the Honda Cub and similar stepthrus from other firms, and the larger spine framed bikes like the CG125 and Suzuki 100. There are an equal number of two and four strokes including a Suzuki based on the old B120. Bikes of under 250cc don’t have to take the rigorous Japanese MOT. Large bikes of over ten years age have to take the MOT once a year rather than once every other year. Which means that CB77s and the like are rarer than you'd expect.
In design terms, the Japanese working bike seems to have reached an impasse. The peak of design development seems to have occurred about 20 years ago, since when very few major changes have been made in any of the current models. This has kept prices down and made for enviable continuity in spares availability.
These bikes are destined to drive about under layers of racks, boxes, screens and so on, coated in filth and cleaned or checked but seldom. Their build quality has to be quite high and the design understressed by a factor of 50%. Chains are enclosed, dampers sealed for life and about the only piece of maintenance necessary is keeping the oil topped up.
Rust merrily chews away at the rims, frame and other bits, but there is sufficient metal thickness to keep it fed for the bike's entire life, at the end of which the structure still has surprising strength despite looking as if the moths have been at it. Most of these machines go to the scrapheap with the majority of their original parts.
The engines would be easily recognisable to most British riders of the early ‘70s. There is the evergreen Cub engine, now sporting an electric starter but otherwise more or less unchanged. The CB125 twin, which first appeared in the UK in the wild days before restriction to 12hp, which can trace its life back to the sixties. The Suzuki 90 two stroke which dates from the ‘60s as well as numerous other living fossils that never made it to Europe.
All these motors are in a fairly feeble state of tune to prolong their lives - tiny carbs and whisper quiet exhausts combine to ensure that no more air enters or escapes than is necessary. This makes sense, as these machines will rarely exceed 30mph in town, but need plenty of torque to pull away under colossal loads.
An honourable mention must be given to the Welby bike, which only fails to be a motorbike because it doesn’t have an engine. In all other respects, these enormous pushbikes, used by market traders everywhere, are the same as motorbikes they're as big, as heavy and in most areas as useful in traffic. They appear to be made of offcuts from the Sydney Harbour bridge. Honda market a bolt-on engine kit which hardly seems necessary, as once you have pedalled these behemoths up to speed, they have the same kinetic energy as a train and are as hard to stop.
Working bikes make up the majority of domestic motorcycle sales in Japan, even though nobody would be seen dead on one as private transport. They are the exclusive tool of the worker and small business, and perform daily with extraordinary reliability. Slow and ugly, they represent a kind of pragmatic approach to motorcycle design that has long since disappeared in Europe.
There is a second class of small bike in Japan - the mopeds. Into this category I will put all the 50cc fashion scooters, some of which, like the Suzuki Love and Yamaha Jog, are becoming popular in the UK, as well as larger versions like the 125 and 250 Freeway, and the extraordinary Honda Fusion, a stepthru as big as a Goldwing with the biggest seat I have ever seen.
These machines are particularly popular among young people here. They are very cheap, clean and exempt from the MOT. Their service life tends to be about three years - they receive no maintenance as a rule, and are regarded as a disposable product, to be thrown away when they get too scruffy. They are the next step up from a bicycle and represent a real alternative to public transport. They are expected to stay in the gutter and not venture out into the main carriageway, but unlike bicycles, they are not allowed onto the pavement.
The insurance premiums for big bikes in Japan make Norwich Union premiums in the UK seem like a real bargain. There is a 750cc limit, mandatory training and a couple of tests for riding bikes over 400cc. These factors means that hot 400 fours are all the rage, with bikes like the FZR400 and GSX400, and even a 400cc version of the SRX600, ruling the roads.
Among these is the Honda CB-1, a typical example with a DOHC water-cooled four pot, 398cc motor, cast aluminium frame and every trick accessory known to the Japanese. One glance at these specials and you’re hooked - the detailing is superb and the standard of finish, when new, makes the Hesketh look like a CZ.
As a poseur’s tool, these bikes have overcome their power limitation to a large extent. Proof of this is that few owners add any modifications at all, except for a 4-1 exhaust, although now that the latest bikes have flash stainless steel exhausts this is becoming less common.
There is also a strange classic movement. Owners of big singles like the XBR and SR whose sense of style is firmly retrograde. With a curious nostalgia for the British motorcycle scene of the forties and fifties, they bolt on alloy guards, complete with naff looking perforated stays, alloy tanks (often with Norton or Matchless logo), hump seats, et al. The rider dons his Belstaff and pee-pot helmet with goggles, and thumps off on Sunday afternoon to live out his fantasy. This scene is at a peak at the moment, the next step up is a Tiger Cub for three grand or something decent like an A10 for around £30,000!
Apart from the classics, the concept of secondhand is one they have difficulty with here. The idea of buying something that has previously been owned by someone else, and a stranger to boot, is not one that rests easy with the status conscious Japanese. That said, the young still encounter the same economic problems as the rest of us - it's just that there are fewer places to advertise. Most people feel better buying new, even if it means finance. Land prices and appalling rent levels mean that people tend to live with their parents far longer than in spacious Britain. If they work for a large company they have a job for life, so HP companies smile on them accordingly.
For the foreigner visiting Japan for a few weeks, it’s not worth trying to get about on two wheels as the insurance costs on top of the bike hire charge would be fairly hefty. Buying something under 250cc would not be too expensive, something for around a £100 in the back pages of the English language newspapers would be a good bet (a Honda 125 twin, for instance).
The speed limit is 60km/h in urban areas, 40km/h in mid-city. On the toll paying expressways you can rip along at a heady 100km/h (62.5mph), but you can’t carry a passenger or ride anything under 125cc. They drive on the left here, just like in the UK, but the question of priority is not very clear as cyclists are not subjected to any laws and can do pretty much as they like.
Drink driving is not recommended. The police set up a road block late at night and smell the breath of all the drivers as they filter through. If they suspect alcohol, the driver's breathalysed with a huge machine that sits in the boot of the police car and analyses everything in your breath. Fines are five times those in the UK.
Incidentally, foreigners on an International driver's licence can only ride 125s, and even if you hold a full bike licence in the UK, you will still have to take a bike test to ride anything bigger. All in all, if you want to ride in Japan, it can be done, but bearing in mind the expense, the hassle (you have to fill in a form and attend in person to do anything in Japan), and the dense traffic in the cities, it would be best to stay here a while before deciding to buy.
Paul Calloman
Nothing for it but to have a go on it. Low seat, nice relaxed riding position - in town at least - controls light and the engine punched out enough torque to take off at tickover revs. It felt light and easy to flick through the suburbs, no apparent vibes from the water-cooled, vertical twin motor. I liked it!
In the 50 mile ride home I did find, though, that once the engine was fully warmed up the gearbox became very noisy when changes were made, even if they always clicked straight into gear. The laid back riding position meant the bike was good for up to 70mph cruising. Beyond that my arms began to ache, my thighs became cramped and, surprisingly given the plush looking seat, my bum went numb.
The ride home was on good, fairly straight A roads all the way, so I found the stability reassuring even with a few quick sorties up to 90mph. It was only when I tried to indulge in some fast back road work that things became unpleasant. I'm sure you know the type of road I mean. Those B roads that are almost deserted, with snatches of straights between tight bends with bumpy surfaces.
The Kawasaki was like some refugee from the seventies. Its long travel and softly sprung suspension would get tied up in knots. I found backing off the throttle in a situation where the bike was bouncing over to the wrong side of the road when leaned over made it veer across the road. Opening up the throttle just made it bounce all the more madly. It was necessary to whack on the brakes way before the curves to safely navigate them.
Yet, get the LTD on some fast, long sweeping A road bends and it'd stay steady and secure even with 95mph on the speedo. Perhaps the fact that I had to redistribute the weight forward by crouching down over the tank helped. Hitting a large bump at such a moment caused the bars to do a quick shimmy and then, luckily, settle down right away. The back end was less disturbed by a single bump, it needed a series of closely spaced undulations. Then the damping failed to react fast enough and it’d be pogo stick time.
Despite lots of suspension travel, it didn’t cope at all well with low speeds and rutted city roads. This was quite frightening in London, where many road surfaces really need an enduro bike to safely navigate them. Surrounded by psychopaths in snarling tin boxes, the Kawasaki had to be wrestled from pothole to pot-hole and often came within an inch of bouncing into the side of some auto. Luckily, the spread of torque meant it could be left in third or fourth gear, so there was one less thing to worry over.
The exact logic of placing such a sophisticated engine in a cruiser type bike is hard to comprehend. The LTD’s 450cc motor is very similar to that fitted to the much praised GPz500S, both based on the water-cooled fours of twice the capacity. Four valves per cylinder, twin carbs and double overhead cams seem somewhat wasted in a twin that produces power in the soft manner of a good British 500. Thanks to pistons that move up and down alternatively and a single gear driven balancer, the LTD has none of the nasty vibes present in the Brit twins. Around 5000 to 6000rpm there is a little roughness but the fact that nothing fell off and no bulbs blew speaks for itself. The belt final drive further emphasizes the overall smoothness of the plot.
Like the rest of the bike, the belt drive needed but minimal attention in the 10000 miles that I managed in the year I had the machine. I didn’t even bother to look at the valves, touch the carbs or even change the oil filter (although I changed the oil twice). One wanker (read dealer) tried to convince me that part of the £100 fee he wanted for doing a general service was for adjusting the balancer chain - he just wouldn't believe that Kawasaki had joined the twentieth century by using gears instead. After such a dreadful experience I kept well clear of the dealers.
I managed to crash the bike just once - all the fault of the car driver who rushed out of his driveway without looking where he was going. The Kawasaki hit the BMW in such a way that it wrote off a wing and two doors. The twenty stone driver was enraged that his brand new auto was wrecked and paid little heed to the fact that I was writhing on the floor holding my knee where it had hit the door.
Luckily, I hadn’t broken my knee-cap, I was just badly bruised. By the time the pain had receded and I was able to hobble upright, the driver had cooled down a little. The long Kawasaki forks had buckled inwards leaving the front guard touching the radiator. The bike was unrideable and it was my turn to rant and rave. The eventual outcome of our screaming match was that he plucked out £500 in fifties from his wallet on the understanding that we forget the police and insurance. The AA eventually picked up the heap and dumped it at my home.
MCN classifieds led to a breaker who had a good 450 front end - mine complete for £150. An afternoon’s spanner wielding had the bike back on the road, none the worse for wear. In fact, it seemed less prone to weaving - maybe the steering head bearings were wrongly adjusted on the old forks.
Fuel consumption never seemed to vary much, it always gave around 50mpg unless the bike was ridden really slowly when it would shoot up to 60mpg. Not exactly brilliant compared to the old Brits or even some of the 600 fours. Most of the blame can be thrown at the way the exhaust pipes exit the cylinder head, having a nasty twist in them to avoid the slim radiator.
The oil consumption between changes was so negligible that I eventually gave up bothering to check the level. The engine can take either 10/40 or 20/50 oil. The engine is supposed to run on unleaded fuel but I found consumption dropped to around 45mpg, which actually made four star cheaper. As the motor seemed to run a lot better on four star I stuck with it. I never experienced carb icing even in the coldest bits of winter; presumably the belt drive would have been able to absorb more of the force than a chain if the engine suddenly stalled.
Except for one adjustment when I bought the bike, the belt drive needed no further maintenance - just as well it seems to last so long as they are very expensive to replace. The front pads, which worked well in all weathers (to the extent of twisting the long forks at times) needed replacing with 8500 miles on the clock. Both front and rear tyres were replaced at 7500 miles - the rear was only just legal, the front had 2.5mm left - but their advanced state of wear was not detrimental to the handling.
The one really poor point about the Kawasaki is that the punters tended to laugh at the bike rather than gasp in admiration. I was apparently viewed as some rich poseur with no taste, style or machismo. The local lads on Harleys used to growl past and try to kick me off the LTD. Race replica riders were just as dismissive. The word most often used to describe the LTD was gaudy.
There was little that I could do to the Kawasaki to change its appearance. Anything radical would've meant lots of dosh expended that couldn't have been recovered when I came to sell the bike. The truth was that I had become rather fond of the Kawasaki. and its laid back manner. It was quite easy to just stick it in top gear and cruise around the countryside at about 70mph, just getting my kicks from the freedom that motorcycling gives without a worry in the world.
Unfortunately, | had a go on a friend’s new Yamaha FZR600. Despite the dreadful riding position - arse in the air, head between the instruments, arms and thighs in almost instant agony - the way the bike catapulted across the landscape with rock steady handling as the speedo hit 140mph had me converted. Before I had a chance to even think about the practicalities of the move, I'd traded the LTD for a brand new FZR. The dealer gave me £1500 in part exchange, which meant I'd had a year on the LTD for next to nothing, so who am I to complain?
Stephen Thomas
The bike was in good condition despite its 50000 miles and in better condition than a lot of bikes with less than 20000 miles on them. The bike had been used for despatch riding by my brother, hence the high mileage. He had used AMS synthetic oil which improves mpg, reduces tickover and even indicates a generator burn out as it changes colour when subjected to excessive heat. It is expensive but a worthwhile investment. The bike had never been red-lined, was well cleaned and oiled, and in the 40000 miles my brother had done consumed 2 sets of tyres, 3 chains, 1 set of sprockets and one dreadfully expensive rectifier/regulator (£72). It did 70-80mpg driven around town.
When I took over ownership it had been standing for over a month. Usually, it needed to be dragged behind a car to start it after such a time, but to my amazement it started first press of the button. First impressions - the bike felt heavy, the suspension hard, a very revvy engine and the tacho cable wasn't working.
When I connected up the rev counter I found that I'd been changing up at 3000rpm. I had been riding by listening to the engine, like a Brit bike owner equating excess revs to engine rebuilds and cycle part consumption. The engine has hardly any torque and needs around 5000rpm to keep it running along adequately. It handles well even in the wet, even brilliantly compared to a DT; that goes for the brakes as well, especially the front disc although the rear drum locks up the wheel a tad too easily.
The bike was doing fine, getting me to all the places I wanted to go, starting first push of the button. However, this happy state of affairs didn’t last too long as it became very difficult to start. At one stage it conked out a mile from my girlfriend's home and refused to start even after trying to bump it. A conversation with an old chap about bikes saw him off to get a job as a despatcher but still no go. There are a lot of old despatch riders in Dublin or is it just that they age quickly because of the lunatics in cars trying to kill them?
The problem was down to a dead battery because the rectifier was letting through AC current - replacement with the much tougher Superdream item soon corrected that - they are cheaper and much more readily available from breakers. There, I knew there had to be a reason for the existence of the Honda Superdreams.
A new battery was £26 so I found a non standard, Kwik Fit one for £15 with a three year guarantee. Only problem, it was too tall and hit the airbox. Fortunately, I was able to file down a ridge in this item where the two halves joined. It would have been much easier had Suzuki designed the bike so that the airbox could be removed without first taking out the engine! Four hours work to save £9.
The bike started first prod of the starter but refused to tick over at all. I was getting used to the good handling and I even began to thrash the engine. I found the chassis very forgiving, it felt much safer in the wet than the knobbly clad DT. It could even be safely braked when leaned over in corners. This on bald tyres, the bike only upset if you pushed it too hard on wet roads when aquaplaning occurred.
I stripped the carbs to find that each diaphragm had tiny holes in them - a common problem. At £36 a set, Suzuki were ignored - I always rang up the shop to see how much I shouldn't pay! A used set of carbs for £20 were bunged on but starting was still difficult - I could be seen running up and down the street trying to start the damn thing. By the time it started I was almost down to my underpants! I replaced the plug caps with long reach ones, fitted suppressor caps and cleaned up the little corrosion on the end of the HT leads, all to no avail.
When I left the bike outside with the keys in it, someone pinched the keys and left the bike there! The DT key was forced in and it worked. I then replaced the starter motor bushes to try to get it to turn the engine over faster but no joy. The GSX decided to tick over one day, but only after the engine had a 180 mile ride to warm it up. I eventually stripped off the head to check the valves.
I hadn't done this before so let a dealer have the head to do the work - he reckoned that the valve guides needed replacing and, er, Suzuki didn’t have any in stock. Eventually the head was returned but still no difference. Even the bores looked good, so I had run out of things to check.
The bike was cutting out, being a real bugger to start and I was all for making a bonfire out of the damn thing. A friend stripped the motor and expressed amazement that it ran at all. The dealer had left swarf in the head after seating in the valves - one had burnt out. A used one was fitted and ground in. Apart from that, with 55000 miles up the internals were still in fine shape.
I had spent a whole year fixing and fettling the bike and now I didn’t have the money to run it... just as it started to go alright it had to go. At least I got a good price for it. Would I buy another one? Well, maybe after all the hassle has been muted by time and I just recall the good times and not the trouble.
Rudi Monahan
This process was. obviously handed down father to son in my family, with the affected offspring studiously avoiding any make that the father had owned (with the obvious and inescapable exception of BSA). When it was finally my turn I was running out of makes. Velo are beautiful but pricey, everything with any semblance of performance was horrifically expensive, with one notable exception, the Triumph Bonneville.
How my heart ached for a Bonnie, especially the ‘68 model, so beautiful, so rare... after 3 months fruitless searching, I'd lowered my sights to include any Triumph 650 or even a 500. The speed with which Triumphs sell is only fully appreciated when you try to buy one, most of the ones in MCN were sold in the morning that it came out.
Eventually I found a 1971, oil in frame, 650 Trophy. I went to see it and fell in love. Yes, I told myself, I too could own a Triumph, all I had to do was pay the man. A brief test ride confirmed that generally things were OK, as far as my limited knowledge was concerned. The deal was struck at 650 quid, and the ex-owner followed my car back to my house - the bike only conked out once in the twelve mile trip; a fact which I considered to be a good sign.
The next day it went in for its MOT, which it passed no problem, but the garage pointed out a huge capacitor aiding the 300 year old battery. The electrics were attended to by my father and a new battery installed. Then the oil leaks started. The biggest was at the top of the front pushrod tube - I thought that even the British didn’t deliberately engineer gaps between the tube and head. A new set of pushrod tubes eliminated that oil leak, whilst some blue Hylomar, new gaskets and careful assembly got rid of the others.
One day we decided to go to Assen. Rich, Triumph and myself. The Triumph used a gallon of oil on that trip and carried on running after turning off. On return to jolly old England, it became apparent that these two facts were not unrelated. The oil was being burnt and was forming large carbon deposits on the pistons. A new set of valves and guides solved this problem.
After my old Honda 750, I couldn't believe that a large capacity bike could be so economical - 65mpg was the average, though it must be said that money saved at the pumps was quickly consumed by spares. The amount that I spent on spares was more or less entirely due to its owners, past and present. The previous owners had neglected to keep it in top condition and I wanted to have a reliable and shiny Triumph. It seemed that every time I fixed one problem, something else would break.
Generally, though, the bike never let me down. The only time that it left me stranded was when the final drive chain broke and I couldn't find it. It never ceased to amaze me the speed with which various parts wore out, until that is, I discovered a thing called The Sludge Trap, conveniently located in the crankshaft, thus requiring a mere total engine strip to clean it out. It was full to the brim, making sure that little oil circulated throughout the engine. I cleaned it out until it was fit to eat off.
The whole engine was rebuilt, making sure that no knackered parts were included, as well as new main bearings. Both barrels, pistons and valve gear were ail well worn and replaced. The difference was startling. It had barely managed 90mph two up, now it would top 95mph with plenty more on tap - I can’t be more specific about the top speed as above 95mph the speedo went haywire. Once I clocked up 10000 miles in ten seconds.
It honestly felt as quick as the Honda 750 on acceleration. The power of the Triumph was more constant, though, it would give instant response to the twistgrip, but it was always very controllable, so very safe in the wet. You also always knew what was happening between road and tyres.
I had a lot of problems finding a headlamp with both a good dip and main beam. The best was a Wipac, but every time you wanted to switch from the dip to main beam you had to lean forward and physically move the bloody headlamp downwards... I
eventually fitted a sealed beam unit off a Reliant Robin.
One good thing about the Triumph was the handling. One night I'd just adjusted the light down to find I was approaching a sharp bend at 90mph. I almost shat myself but I just hurled the bike over and it made the curve with absolutely no trauma. The Honda 750 would have been through the hedge and ploughing up the field.
Having achieved a degree of reliability I became obsessed with its appearance. Perfectly serviceable but slightly tatty bits were junked in favour of brand new shiny equipment. I eventually had a shiny and reliable Triumph. Apart from a slipping clutch that didn’t respond to new plates, that is.
I was in the process of getting this fixed when the bike was nicked. I still get sad and angry when I think about it, as I had really fallen for the machine, despite all its little quirks. I felt a large chunk of my life had been ripped away. The insurance company would only give me £750 for the bike (less £200 excess). I just had enough to buy another but then the insurance rates went crazy - from £200 to £400.
Consequently, my next two bikes were cheap hacks - a Suzuki X7 and a Jawa 350. As I aged my insurance premium slowly dropped to an acceptable level. The final crunch came when a Talbot helped the Jawa stop from 25mph in a fraction of a second. The Jawa was a write-off, so I started hunting for a Triumph again.
Prices had shot up and I almost gave up. After the usual hunt around I ended up with a US import, a reasonably sound but tatty 750 Bonnie for £650. With my past experience, I tore the engine apart to clean out the sludge trap - no need, it was almost clean despite 15000 miles - just shows what regular oil changes can do.
I haven't had to spend as much on the engine and to date it has proved totally reliable. It feels even quicker than the 650 but you tend to travel slower as the vibes are much worse. The twin discs are, however, a massive improvement over the conical hubs of the 650. It may not be as good looking as the 650, and its fuel consumption is worse, but I’m happy again, and in the final analysis that’s what counts, isn’t it?
Steve Willett
For anyone whose memory doesn’t go back that far, what I had bought was a four stroke single cylinder trail bike of 396cc (88 x 65.2mm bore & stroke) with a compression ratio of 9.2:1, fed by a Mikuni carb. Its two valves are actuated by a single overhead cam. Claimed power output is a modest 30hp and there are five gears.
It felt like a toy at first, being nearly 200lb lighter than my Yam XS650 at a claimed 280Ib dry, and much slimmer. Early experiments indicated nimble handling, reasonable acceleration with a top whack of just over 80mph, and good fuel economy.
The SP has never been my only bike (although there have been times when it was my only roadworthy one), so mileage has increased only gradually to its present level of 36000 miles. It has been used throughout as my commuting hack, a trip varying over the years from 9 to 75 miles daily. It is currently averaging about 500 miles a month, including the odd bit of trail riding. It is also my all weather transport and so it has made some longer journeys as well.
The best thing about the Suzuki is its amazing frugality, both on my money and my time, if used gently. Being a stingy sort of chap, I want it to last. I therefore make concessions to it, like not revving it hard when cold, changing the oil every 2000 miles (as opposed to the recommended 3000), and sitting back to enjoy the scenery rather than trying to arrive two minutes earlier. Used this way it will turn in 80mpg even when commuting and need next to no maintenance.
I should stress that I treat the Suzuki with consideration, or at least flatter myself that I do. Some UMG correspondents seem proud of neglecting their bikes, which I would have thought was asking for trouble, especially in winter. I will never be a keen DIY type, but look on the odd half hour’s maintenance as good insurance. Besides which, the bike is so easy to work on. Even I feel useful after doing a bit of work on it, and my mechanical aptitude is decidedly basic.
The fuel economy is helped by the engine's flexibility. First gear is hardly ever needed on the road, except for first thing in the morning or two up hill starts, and it will pull in top from about 25mph - provided you don't expect neck snapping acceleration. In fact, it’s best at low revs because despite being red-lined at 8000rpm, vibration comes in at around 5500rpm in a big way. I've fitted softer bar grips, which help a bit.
Parts life has been good, apart from the chain. The second clutch cable was fitted at 8000 miles, a-new tacho cable and silencer at 18000, and I've also added fork gaiters to protect the chrome and seals. It's on its third headlamp bulb and third battery, which being a puny 6V affair only costs £10. I also renew the plug annually, for peace of mind rather than out of any apparent need.
And, apart from a camchain, those are the only bits it’s had, I think, apart from a replacement side panel and a gear lever, which both vibrated off early in my ownership. Note to those about to buy their first big single - run around all bolts with a spanner at service time.
There was also the case of the collapsing motorcycle. I had just spent the weekend in Bristol, visiting my sister, and was riding home along the A4 to London, where I lived at the time. Unknown to me, the swinging arm spindle had sheared just behind its securing nut. The spindle naturally started to work its way free from the other side until it cleared the frame at the sheared end. At which point the arm and rear wheel slewed to one side.
It was bloody frightening, actually. Although I didn’t know what had happened, something was clearly wrong at the back end. I braked gently to a halt, got off and had a real scare when I saw it. I wrote to Suzuki GB more than once about this, and after several months they finally paid up for the replacement parts (the bike had only 6000 miles when it happened) and my train fare home on the day!
Tyre life has varied. The originals lasted a most satisfactory 17900 and 16000 miles front and rear, but because their maker was too shy to put his name on the sidewalls, I can’t tell you where to buy them. I then tried T61 Michelins which gave really good grip on the road and were OK on the rough, but were ridiculously short lived for such a light, low powered bike 8100 and 5400 miles front and rear.
I therefore changed to MT22 Pirellis. These seem just as grippy as the Michelins and the rear lasted 11300 miles, and was only replaced because I got a puncture and had to take it off anyway. The front has masses of tread left after 10000 miles - and I should hope so too.
SP400 chains have a short and unpleasant life. With a chain guard from the very minimalist school, a four stroke single's thudding power pulses, a 15 tooth gearbox sprocket, long travel suspension and a minimal cush drive in the rear wheel, I suppose I should be grateful for the 7000 miles I get out of them. I've tried buying a heavy duty chain but it makes next to no difference, so I now buy whatever’s cheapest. Odd that Suzuki should have specified only a 520 type chain in the face of such adversity.
The lights are lousy. The 45/40W headlamp emits a feeble glow, more to be seen than, to see by. The crappy relay lets the indicators blink once and then stay on, except when you rev up, whereupon they blink again. The rear lamp is OK, though, and, unlike some older Suzukis, the brake light is actuated by both brake levers.
The next most useless item is the front mudguard. Suspended about a mile above the wheel, it ensures that road muck plasters the engine, headlamp and rider. Fortunately, there are some mounting points on the fork sliders, so it’s just a matter of unbolting the original and replacing it with something more suitable. However, with a 21” wheel that’s easier said than done.
As I mentioned earlier, maintenance is a doddle. Every 2000 miles I change the oil, clean the plug and filters, lube the cables, check the camchain and then generally look the bike over. Every year I change the fork oil and lube the clock cables. In all the time I’ve owned the thing I have never had to adjust the tappets or the carb, so I've left well alone.
If and when the tappets do go out of adjustment, it’s a simple screw and lock nut arrangement, although access could be simpler. I'll have to remove the tank, and to do that the seat must first. be unbolted. Fortunately, you don’t even need a feeler gauge to do the tappets adjust the screw until it is just seating, back it out one eighth of a turn, lock it up and there you go.
I had the second camchain, a split link job, threaded on at 31200 miles. This was the first time I had ever paid a service bill on the SP400. Taking up camchain slack has always been a fiddly job, as the plunger arm sometimes sticks. It’s best to take the whole assembly off to check, which only takes another five minutes. The ignition timing never moves because it’s CDI, although the earlier SP370 had points. Even working at my snail's pace a full service takes no more than a morning.
The vibes limit the bike’s long distance potential. Keeping the revs down to 5000 translates to 55-60mph in top, which is bearable for a couple of hours and also means that I can do 120 miles before the 1.9 gallon tank goes onto reserve. The most I've ever done on reserve is 19 miles, at which,point the tank accepted exactly 1.7 gallons. I'd travelled 141 miles on that, mind you.
However, I wouldn't want to do frequent long rides on it because of the upright riding position, the vibes and the hard seat. Going back to it after a few days on another bike, it does seem excessively vibratory. All the same, an acquaintance once toured France two up on an SP370, so it can be done. My longest day’s mileage was 280 miles - a trip to Donington Park and back from Maidenhead.
The spartan theme is continued with the lack of an electric starter. This has never bothered me as I have always enjoyed booting a bike into life. The decompressor lever below the clutch lever ensures that you can win bets on the SP starting first time. It always needs full choke in the morning; when hot, no choke but a little throttle. On all occasions, employ a long, swinging kick to kid onlookers that this is a real man’s machine.
Weak points are supposed to include the kick start, which can snap, and the oil feed to the top end. I've never had any trouble with either. I was able to check component condition when the camchain was replaced. The cam, cam lobes and bearing surfaces all looked really good, but there was a bit of wear on one rocker face. My faith in frequent oil changes was justified.
The drum brakes are adequate overall, although the fully floating rear one is cable operated and so feels a bit vague. Two up, things are pretty near the limit at times, but engine braking is strong due to the lack of a heavy flywheel. In fact, if used gently it can be ridden almost entirely on the throttle, which helps to explain why there is plenty of life left in the original brake shoes.
As it’s my everyday bike it doesn’t seem worth spending time cleaning and polishing as it's sure to be raining the next day. The appearance has therefore suffered over the years. The alloy rims and fork sliders have deteriorated, paint has come away from the engine and tank, and the indicators and exhaust downpipe have rusted. It gets a thorough wash and brush-up before the MOT test each year but other than that cleaning is, er, irregular. Good job I’m not proud.
You rarely see an SP400 advertised for sale these days, but as your editor says in the used section, they have loads of potential and are worth hunting down. I don’t know if he still does it, but Alf Hagon used to offer a 480cc kit which modified the stroke of the engine. A Hagon engine stuck in a Ducati chassis would make a really neat bike, but it’s just one of dozens of projects which I don’t suppose I will ever get around to.
Even rarer than the SP are the DR400 and GN400. The DR is a more serious enduro tool with a superior specification including full width brakes, a box section swinging arm, bigger engine bash plate, slightly higher compression ratio, different carb and a slightly bigger tank. It was finished either in white or that ghastly Suzuki yellow.
The buyer with a choice between a DR and an SP therefore has a bit of a problem. All things considered, the DR is probably the better bike even just for road use. However, bearing in mind that it was offered as an enduro machine, any used model has probably led a harder life than an SP of the same age. The GN400 was one of those awful factory customs from the early 1980s although it was fortunately mildly done.
The UMG claims the SP can be run to 35-40000 miles without problems. If mine is anything like typical, it can do so on a minimum of maintenance as well. Mine continues to plod along and I estimate that it will reach 40000, and so start living on borrowed time, around mid 1990. Looking back over six years, the bike has done everything I’ve asked of it and has never broken down, apart from that one near disaster. It's adaptable, providing you are not looking for high average speeds. It feels at its most pleasant when thudding down country lanes, and is also slim and brisk enough to make a good town bike. It will cope with motorway work surprisingly well but don’t expect it to be fun.
The SP400 has a lot of the charm but few of the vices of the big single. In conclusion, it’s a shame that there is no similar bike being made today. The Japanese seem unable to leave a good idea alone and their dual purpose stuff now looks too complex to me, with its water-cooling, multiple valves, disc brakes, peaky engines and electric starters. When the old crate finally wears out I will either have to buy one of these high tech ones, or a road bike like an MZ or something to get to work on.
Jeremy Irwin
On collecting my example of prime German horizontally opposed twin, OHV technology I was advised not to lock the petrol cap as they tend to rust inside and you can’t open them! I rode proudly home.After two days I noticed the hydraulic brake fluid reservoir was leaking and running everywhere. I returned to the dealer who fitted a new cap. 40 miles.
Shortly after this I found a leaking oil seal at the gear change shaft. I returned to the dealer who fitted a new seal. 40 miles. Soon, I discovered the new oil seal was leaking so I returned to the dealer who fitted another new seal. 40 miles.
By then it was time for the free first service. This was fortunate as both fork seals were leaking and the light, indicator and even headlamp flasher switches were faulty. 40 miles. The dealers only confirmed that the fork seals were faulty and sprayed the switches with WD40! On the ride home I found that the switches were still not working correctly.
Took the bike in for the fork seals to be replaced and the switches renewed. The lights were now OK, that is they came on when they were switched on and didn’t flash with the indicators. The headlamp flasher switch still stuck on. They said this was a common fault. 40 miles.
Took the bike in to have the flasher switch changed. They only agreed to do this after I got shirty with them. I’d been polite and understanding up until then because that’s what BMW owners are like, aren't they? 40 miles.
After the first winter I found that the exhaust pipes had lost most of their chrome. The silencers needed constant cleaning to keep ahead of the rust. The 5000 mile service was not carried out properly. 40 miles to get this done.
I had been worried all the time by noises in the engine. One expects tappet noise but there was a very loud tap in the left cylinder which the mechanics couldn't hear. The suspension was very crude and seemed to absorb no shocks at all, often throwing me right out of the saddle when going over bumps in the road. If it hit a bump on a bend it got exciting!
I was not impressed with the cheap plastic instrument panel with loose blanks over holes not in use. These blanks vibrated and made even more noise, amplified by the screen. The gear change was fine when new but after 5000 miles was bad - it baulked and often dropped out of gear. It had several neutrals. The brakes are definitely not up to hard use, with the front disc fading badly. The bike is also difficult to clean, the wheel design especially poor.
At approximately 5600 miles I realised that the speedo was up the creek. Another common fault, apparently. This became clear when I reached 130mph on the Hog’s Back. I went to Coombs of Guildford to get this warranty job done. 30 miles. I have nothing but praise for this dealer, who did the job in half an hour whilst I sat in comfort drinking their coffee!
General comments. Nice lazy engine. Good low speed handling and fine at speed on a good surface. Lovely riding position. The screen was too low by at least an inch. Fairing generally was not good despite its massive size. My legs still got wet and rain sucked in behind the rider, dripping down my neck.
The BMW panniers let rain in easily. This I consider a very serious fault and the lockers each side of the fairing do exactly the same. Generally, down to some cheap, penny pinching construction. A rear plastic mudguard that doesn’t come down far enough at the back - why should a mudflap be extra on such an expensive bike? The rear light is also a cheapo. The weak horn is identical to the one on my MZ, made in the GDR. The mirrors just fell apart and had to be Araldited!
The switches are not a patch on Japanese ones. The switches on my ‘37 Sunbeam were better! Let alone the ones on my CZ and MZ. You could expect trouble with a cheap bike but not a BMW. Petrol consumption was not very impressive. All in all, not a happy experience. 280 miles were covered just getting the faults fixed. It was exchanged for a Kawasaki 450LTD which was a lovely reliable bike and which had me smiling again!
Michael George
