So that’s how I found myself looking at a nice, shiny, red, T reg, GS550 with 26000 on the clock, outside a Barnsley dealer. OK, the seat was a rather tatty kitchen-knife cut down, the engine had a suspicious coat of silver paint and the exhaust was a sawn off 4 into 1- but it did sound rorty. Despite my lingering suspicion of dealers, I did want the bike very badly, and, after all, it was in such ‘good condition,’ the previous owner was a ‘good friend’ and it did have a ‘guarantee’ - ah well, I suppose we all have to learn one way or another.
So the deal was struck, the piggy bank emptied of £495 and I became the owner of a real motorcycle. It ran beautifully, such power, such smoothness. Just wait ‘till I get out with my mates, no more pillion for me, I’d be up at the front with the best of them.
After a few exhilarating days zooming around the countryside, terrifying both myself and the local rabbit population, a few problems started to become apparent. The seat, though providing good support and riding position, felt as if it was made of wood (with obvious consequences for my backside and internal organs).
My left boot always seemed to be covered in oil and the engine wouldn’t rev beyond eight grand - there just wasn’t any power there. I put the latter problem down to the home-made silencer and I vowed to replaced it as soon as possible, but I knew I’d miss that lovely crackling sound when the power came in.
After only one blissful week of ownership, whilst travelling 20 miles to a friend’s house to show off the new steed, there was a loud bang followed by a marked loss of power. Inspection of the engine soon revealed the absence of one of the spark plugs. I resigned myself to the long push home, finally arriving at my friend’s house in a Fiat 126, much to my shame. Fortunately, the dealer agreed to helicoil the head and supply the gasket if I did the stripdown and rebuild myself. In fact, he was very concerned that his ‘friend’ should have hidden this defect from him.
However, as I was soon to find out, that was the very least of the problems. I carefully stripped the engine down, revealing that the cam timing was out by two teeth on the exhaust and one on the inlet cam. One of the cylinder nuts was missing and the state of the stud explained exactly why. There were a selection of different nuts holding on the exhaust flanges. If I’d curbed my enthusiasm and looked carefully at the engine nuts and bolts I could have ascertained that the motor had been stripped - and on a GS550 with such low mileage that ain’t a good sign.
Due to the cam timing the exhaust valves were burnt and one of the valve guides in the inlet side had snapped in two. What a game! The GS must be one of the most popular middleweights around and it took three weeks for the new guide to arrive. The dealer who supplied it refused to fit it, the dealer who had a go snapped it in two. I had to buy another one and find an engineering firm who knew what they were doing. Owners of cars would have had the problem fixed in a day for half the cost. Because of this ridiculous farce, though Suzukis are good bikes, I shall be very reluctant to buy another.
Even when I got the bike back together I knew it would never be as good as it should because the master bodger who’d owned it previously had got his grubby ideas in all over the bike. The inside of the rear drum had been painted, the shocks were impossible to adjust because of an excess of the same paint, the nut on the engine sprocket was missing, some gaskets appeared to be made of chewing gum, oil leaked from a badly bodged crack in the alternator casing, the contact breakers were in a laughable state (if I hadn’t felt like crying), there wasn’t a horn and even the chain split link was fitted the wrong way round. The list seemed endless.
I knew the bike wasn’t up to much when the GS couldn't keep up with a CX500 ridden two-up. The shame of it. But despite that, the GS was still a jolly nice bike to ride. Indeed, I think it’s a credit to the machine to say just how well it ran with so much wrong with it. It pulled smoothly and quite adequately from 1500rpm, had superb twin front discs and the handling was delightful. It’s probably the best handling bike I’ve ever ridden, always accurate, stable and predictable - accelerating, braking or shutting off in a bend made no difference and I never detected any trace of a wobble.
I used the bike as general purpose transport and for a few long weekends. Once, I went to visit some friends in Wales, who, for some obscure reason, were staying in a derelict caravan about two miles from the nearest road. When I arrived I was faced, with the choice of abandoning the bike in a sleazy looking town, hoping that no-one nicked or vandalized the GS, and carrying all my bags for two miles, or I could try my luck riding along the beach.
At the time, the latter seemed the lesser of the two evils. At first there were some helpful firm tracks that I rode over at walking pace, stopping occasionally to pick up a bit of luggage that had decided to fall off. Soon these tracks disappeared, replaced by a flat expanse of sand, with the sea on one side and sand dunes on the other. Unfortunately, these two eventually converged, leaving me with the choice of turning back or riding up some hillocks.
Foolishly, I pressed on. Soon I began to sink as the sand became softer. Eventually, I came to a complete halt, my back wheel spinning furiously. Not to be deterred I tried another approach and eventually (more through luck than judgement) managed to get over the hill. I was faced with a landscape of grassy dunes stretching out ahead.
Bravely, I struck out in what I supposed to be the right direction - up and down sandy slopes, wheel spinning, opposite lock, sliding out of control until I was soon lost and exhausted. The joys of riding with the salt air in my hair on a vast, empty beach almost made up for it. I eventually found the caravan, but its hard life was only just beginning for in the night there was a heavy storm. In the morning I feared for the condition of the bike - I eventually found it hidden under a pile of sand - poor old bike.
In the year I owned this bike I never had any breakdown, save for the spark plug. Apart from the routine servicing, I didn’t have to do another engine rebuild and only had to fit a tyre and a chain. However, as the next winter all too soon began to get its icy fingers into the engine, cold starting became a problem, until it was 15 minutes every morning jumping up and down on the kickstart. After eliminating just about every other possibility, I purchased a compression tester - new tings and maybe even a rebore were indicated. These motors have a reputation for doing 60000 miles before they even need a new camchain, so I felt pretty peeved contemplating all this work at only 32000 miles.
I remembered that I had an old tube of Holts ring-bodge stuff lying around at the back of some old shelves in my workshop. After a lot of sticky mess, blue smoke and a tow start from a car the deed was done. Maybe a slight improvement in starting, but nothing else, questionable if it was worth the trouble. Hints to anyone contemplating this - be very careful when removing hot plugs (very easy to strip threads), and don’t try to do all four pots at once (like I did).
So the Suzi and I rumbled along to the start of another biking season but I knew she was beginning to go off tune and would need lots of dosh expended to bring the bike back to its prime. When what should happen but that I spied a nice shiny Kawasaki Z650 in the window of a local dealer. A couple of days later all my worries were traded in luckily, the dealer only wanted to hear the motor running and didn’t give it a test ride - the reputation of the motor for toughness probably blinded him to its imminent demise.
In conclusion, I’ve got to say that as a bike, the GS550 is a damn good bet, not particularly fast nor exciting, but strong, good handling and very reliable, a really accomplished middleweight. If you can find one that’s been well maintained you won't go far wrong.
J.J. Chamberlain