Trips around various dealers showed lots of big bikes of different makes which all had potential, with the exception of Yamaha who only had the gargantuan XS1100. This had an excess of everything bar style, my mate absolutely abhorred the thing. Nothing stopped either of us in our tracks, so we went home.
For the next couple of weeks there was no mention of getting a larger bike, then on Saturday there was a knock at the door. My mate stood there with an inane grin from ear to ear. Fancy going for a spin, he asked. There on the pavement was a sparkling T registered Honda CB900F. We went to Bradford for the afternoon and on the return journey I was offered a go. This was an opportunity not to miss. The bike was big and heavy, but it was bloody fast and powerful, I really enjoyed the experience.
Not many weeks passed (about 2) before I became really cheesed off with cog swapping, thrashing my 400 to within an inch of its life every time we went out anywhere, only to arrive at our predetermined destination half an hour after the Honda, so I decided to sell the Suzi. After much searching of various bike shops in Leeds, the field was narrowed down to three machines - two GS1000s and a Z1000ST.
The two GSs were in one shop and the Kwack was in another, all three were the same year and price - £1350 and V reg, but the part exchange deal against the Kawa was £100 better - my bike plus £700. I waited a week, then got another £50 off the price - the deal was settled a week later when I returned with the cash.
The ST was parked on the sidestand, nose in the gutter. To my embarrassment, I couldn’t budge the thing and had to get the salesman to help drag the bike out. I started the beast and cautiously departed. Riding home through town I felt like a king. Pulling up at a set of lights I spied a bloke looking at me in awe, mouthing the words, Bloody Hell. Being only 5’ 8" and weighing only 10 stone (dripping wet) I guess I looked like a pea on a drum.
After leaving town I decided the engine was well warmed up, deciding to open her up. At 3000rpm the motor began backfiring and wouldn’t rev any higher, no matter which gear I was in. I soldiered on home, went around to see my mate, who after having a go, couldn’t overcome the problem. In a rather distraught state, I rang the dealer - bring it around on Monday, he said.
Damn. I was sick. Riding the bike back on Monday I called in on a mechanic I knew who raced a Z1000J. He had a go on the bike, came back, lifted the seat and said he could put it right for a fiver. He proceeded to lift up the seat again, took out the air filter, turned it around before replacing it. Try it now, he said. It revved like crazy and scared the pants off me. On my return he gave me the fiver back, explaining that some clown had put the air filter in with the tin end blocking off the air supply. I rang the shop to tell them I wouldn’t be bringing the bike in after all - the salesman sounded well relieved.
The bike ran fine until I went along to the Birmingham Bike Show, along with my mate on the CB900. Half way there we stopped at a service station when my friend reckoned that the engine was smoking a lot. Checking the oil level revealed that oil was being burnt off at a great rate, it took a litre then and nearly another litre when we arrived at Birmingham, and just over yet another litre back at home. Something was seriously wrong with the motor. The bike went back to the shop where new rings were diagnosed. It took 3 weeks to repair. The shop kindly gave me my 400 twin back for the duration but I wouldn’t ride it for fear of writing it off. The bike was soon back on the road and all went well for the next month when...
One Sunday afternoon I was returning from a ride in the Dales when, Bang, I ran into the side of a Toyota Celica not five minutes from home. The bloke pulled out in front of me on a roundabout. I saw him clear as day, trouble was he saw me and stopped, totally blocking my exit. By the time I hit him I had just about stopped, but the damage still came to over £280 (£221 of which was merely the exhaust). It was his fault and I had two witnesses to prove it. Upshot of it all was that the guy got out of his car and claimed he hadn’t seen me what a joke - the size of the ST, I don’t see how he could miss it. I’m still not sure how I picked up that 600lb motorcycle on my own.
Anyway, this turkey wouldn’t play ball with his insurance until I threatened him with court action, amazing what a bit of friendly persuasion can do. His insurers then offered me £250 if I did the work myself. This I accepted, proceeding to straighten out the number plate, fit used indicators off a Z250, file and polish the alternator cover with Solvol, put on a 2:4 seat to lower the seat height and fit an Alpha 4-1(£89) - good as new, but loud is not the word.
Over the next few months the clutch cables kept fraying due to the bars being bent from the crash. I tried the breakers but couldn’t find any bars so had to keep replacing the cables. The third one snapped in the middle of Leeds - I managed to get through all six sets of traffic lights without stopping, making clutchless changes, but it’s something I wouldn't like to repeat. The bike was laid up for five days until new cable and bars were obtained.
Two weeks later the camchain and tensioner went. The Kwack went into one of the local bike shops where the mechanic suggested the machine might have been clocked. The bike was off the road for seven weeks because someone had read the part number for the chain wrong - one digit out and there was one in the stores all the time. Despite all this hassle I rather liked the ST.
It did 25mph, 42mpg and ate tyres at both ends. It was a handful to pilot and physically very tiring. I recall a trip to Cadwell Park in the company of a CX500 and LC350. On a twisty back road a 350LC began buzzing us. When the pace picked up, I was left for dead, wallowing miles behind all three, somewhat on the ragged edge. The ST felt somewhat akin to trying to navigate the QE2 up the Leeds and Liverpool canal.
The return journey was even worse. The lights on the Yam packed up on the A1, the CX and I had to sandwich the LC. Ahead, I saw a police car - the two lads on the Yamaha didn’t have a full licence between them. I flashed the CX to slow down, he overtook the cops and disappeared. The LC and me pulled up for twenty minutes before continuing. We then got to Crossgates in Leeds when some cops in an Escort saw us and swiftly did an U turn. The LC bombed off and I continued normally.
When the law stopped me to ask about the LC I denied all knowledge of them. The cop said he didn’t believe me, threatening to commandeer the Kwak to chase after them. Fortunately, he didn’t pursue the matter any further (the LC would have killed the ST anywhere other than a straight motorway). The following day I had a tussle with a Honda CBX550 on one of my favourite bits of road, the Honda made the ST look like a restricted Tomos.
By now my mate had sold his CB900 and bought a CBX1000, so I decided to get a ZX1100. A deposit was put down for a brand new ’un, delivery August 1st. The last couple of months on the ST were great fun, burning everywhere, not doing any kind of major work on the bike. I picked up a nice surprise in the form of being nicked for a bald rear tyre - £25 fine and three penalty points.
The ST had all the attributes and faults of a seventies DOHC four, with shaft drive causing even worse handling problems than the more common chain driven model. I was a little unlucky in my choice of machine, as it had evidently suffered a hard life before I acquired it. I had more than my fair share of mechanical problems, but they are basically tough old beasts and I expect my nice new bike to last for a very long time indeed.
The last week in July I steam cleaned the bike, taking off a nice chunk of paint from the petrol tank. This was speedily repaired (read bodged) for a fiver by a mate. On August 1st I went to trade in my ST for a new ZX1100, only to return home on the ST as the ZX hadn’t been taxed. Finally, on August 2nd the ST went but definitely won’t be forgotten.
Andy Wood