When I did get close to the bike, it turned out to be a W-reg, 19000 mile, bog standard one with no indicators. The motor wouldn’t run at less than about 6000rpm (and I guess we all know what happens at those revs on LCs), he actually had the idle set at 5000rpm - he assured me that it was only a matter of some adjustment (and bugger me if he wasn’t right), so misty-eyed, I handed over £490 for my new treasure.
Whereupon, the old owner quickly disappeared, leaving me feeling rather a berk on a virtually non-running bike, in the rain and dark in a part of London I didn’t even know. Up until then I'd only ever ridden a 125, this 6000rpm monster came as quite a shock to me.
The only way it would start was by running like crazy, leaping on it and then trying to control the wheelie - I really found out about powerbands that day. After a journey that included many vicious wheelspins, much wheelie-ing and a couple more bump starts, much to my surprise, I found myself back in Willesden uninjured. It seemed apt that when I stuck the RD on its centre stand the bike promptly fell over... a kid who came over to help was curtly told to fuck off.
The bike was dumped in RAPs who relieved me of a reasonable £130 which included a new front tyre. When I finally arrived to pick up the bike it was obvious that those chaps really loved LCs and were all too happy to wheelie and scream it down the road to show me that it worked alright. The bike now idled fine with a slow crackle from the exhausts which brought a tingle to my spine. It had also started first kick with a closed throttle from cold, so I sailed off for the thrash down the motorway to Kent.
I suppose it’s all been said before, but the way an LC delivers its goods can only be rivalled by Securicor. The power goes a bit flat at 5000rpm but comes steaming back in again in big red raw chunks until it suddenly disappears at around 9500rpm. Ownership of an LC will leave your face laced with laughter lines.
If you keep the throttle open the front wheel skips the tarmac up until 60mph after which the motor just gets smoother and smoother until by 90mph it’s so silky that it’s hard to tell there’s anything going on under the tank at all. It’s very much an all or nothing bike, really rewarding you if you ride it hard and use the gearbox. Around town, though, it'll snag, chatter oil and coke up - trying to keep a steady speed is hard work, as the motor always wants to hit its powerband. Perhaps, why I only get 35mpg out of town, compared to 40mpg in it.
I'm on the dole but every penny I put into the tank of the LC is well worth it. It’s a bike which really gets you involved and you find yourself just looking at it and gloating - it’s a very beautiful thing. The bike has never stopped running or broken down but it has come close.
Once, in a massive downpour in the fast lane of a motorway, the engine cut onto one cylinder and it suddenly felt like everyone was trying to run me down. Desperate hand signalling got me into the slow lane and finally the hard shoulder. It’s hard to describe the feeling of going from king of the road to a wet rat suddenly paranoid about repair bills and burnt out pistons.
After waiting 40 minutes for the non appearance of a tow truck, I was angry enough to bump start and screw it along on just one cylinder. I was halfway home when the HT lead dried out. I was going around a long sweeping curve at the time. When the other. cylinder chimed in, it sent the rear wheel into a frantic spin, the bike sliding around depositing me on the roadside bank... for a fag and a review of my biking future.
Any old bike needs a lot of maintenance but at least the Yam was simple enough to get away with following the instructions in a Haynes manual. Two jobs are compulsory - brake stripping and exhaust fettling. The exhausts are a constant pain due to the vibes - check the rubber mounts are solid and use Yamaha exhaust gaskets.
Another nasty was the swinging arm bearings. The handling at the back started to feel a bit vague until it became so poor that when power was taken up the bike would skip sideways two inches. Going around corners had now become very frightening. The swinging arm spindle was rusted in position. The swinging arm had to be chopped out with an angle grinder after blow lamps failed to free it.
Overall, I reckon the bike is fairly expensive to run. 5000 miles for the front pads, 6000 miles for the chain and back Roadrunner. It also needs lots of two stroke oil, expensive Silkolene being preferred to minimise the coking up. But it’s worth it and I will certainly keep Elsie even though she’s starting to look a bit ratty and sounds as if re-bore time is finally here.
Christian Tiburtius