As it was early November and early evening I first examined the bike under the glare of fluorescent lights in the guy’s garage. I knew then that if it sounded alright and ran OK, I'd buy it. It was the later version, with cast wheels and black and red tank. It appeared well looked after, save for the once chrome exhaust that had been painted matt black. It was stock except for the addition of a fully enclosed chaincase and a rack.
There appeared to be a definite knack to starting the beast. There was lots of fiddling with the choke, application of the decompressor and lining up the kickstart with the mark in the window in the cylinder head. Several hefty kicks had the garage walls shaking when she roared into life.
A quick blast down the road and I was hooked. I hustled the price down to £300 and was soon thumping my way home through the chill of the night. My immediate impression of the bike was the power of the headlamp, I had the distinct impression that if I flicked onto main beam the car in front would melt away; never have I ridden through the darkness with so much confidence.
After arriving home safely my problems didn’t begin until I had to get the beast started early the next morning. And I mean early, for I had to be at work by 6.00am. The combination of my inexperience with the starting technique, the incredible cold of our winter mornings and my less than awake state meant that it could often take twenty minutes to get her to fire up. I had to get up an hour before I was due in work, togged out in thermals and waterproofs, leaping up and down on the kickstart. There had to be an easier way.
It was quite by chance that I saw an earlier version parked outside the local tyre depot. I wandered in and soon found the owner who passed on some useful tips on starting. I can now get her to start first or second kick (usually), but I’m not going to pass these on as I think you should all learn the hard way for a while.
As the weeks passed I gradually became accustomed to the SR’s little ways. The rear indicators had a certain habit of unwinding, despite lock nuts. There were lots of vibes that if they didn’t eventually dissolve into the background never really injured the rider.
The engine also had a thirst for oil and if you didn’t pour in half a litre every 150 miles then the motor would soon run dry. I became so fed up with the rear indicators trying to fall off that I junked them, resorting to good old hand signals.
Despite the thirst for oil and the vibration, the amount of maintenance required has been minimal and the reliability so far, excellent. If the motor has a reputation for burning out its piston, ruining its valve gear and very expensively destroying the CDI unit, I’m happy to say that I’ve never experienced them.
Although the engine knocks and rattles from within, not to mention the anti-social roar from the exhaust (rumour has it Massey Ferguson will be suing for copyright of the sound), the bike can still deliver some useful performance. Whilst not the latest in Jap high technology, it still pulls strong and hard right up to 85mph when power tends to disappear and vibration, er, intrudes rather fiercely. The lack of top end is little problem - after all, I did buy the bike as an amusing means of commuting to work rather than as a street racer.
The ride can only be described as average. At least there were a set of Konis on the rear (although I couldn’t adjust them as there wasn’t a C spanner available). The front forks were as firm as my bathroom sponge. The whole plot was held together only by an odd combination of decent rubber - a Roadrunner on the front and rear Arrowmax. Whilst far from light for a 500 single developing just 32hp, the 350lbs are evidently well distributed and the centre of gravity relatively low, for despite the limitations of the suspension, the bike can be heeled right over in the dry until the footpegs start scraping up the tarmac.
Things are not so happy in the wet when the back end becomes twitchy, set off by something as minor as white lines. Initially, I found that this was a little unnerving, but since nothing worse appears to happen, it’s quite in order to ride through the twitches, safe in the knowledge that there isn’t all that much mass around to throw things out of joint. In a straight line, up to 85mph, nary a weave intrudes.
Maintenance has been limited to changing the spark plug (somewhat essential if you want to start it first time) and adjusting the tappets (well we all feel guilty about neglecting motorcycle maintenance from time to time, don’t we?).
I was quickly converted to the wonders of full chain enclosure when I realised that the chain was probably going to outlive the engine and required decidedly infrequent attention, thanks to its removal from the usual road grime.
The rear drum brake arm did seize up once but was soon freed by emptying a can of WD40 in approximately the right area. The only real hassle occurred when the throttle cable snapped. It took several days to find a new one and that was nearly an inch too short. This was solved by junking part of the complex closing and opening array of cables, just leaving the opening half - the spring fitted to the carb was sufficient to close the slide and no problems have been encountered with this set-up so far.
Short cables are, I understand, not uncommon even when the right part number has been used - so take your old one with you to. check lengths. Fuel is not exceptional, averaging around 55 to 60mpg, tyres last around 8000 rear and 12500 miles front... with the lack of other expenses it works out as commendably cheap to run. It stands outside all year with no form of protection and gradually decays.
Much to my surprise, I’ve developed a feeling of respect, fondness and confidence in its ability. It’s actually now become the bike I’ve owned for the longest time, which for an old £300 thumper must be pretty good going.
Martin Crowe