What a bloody wreck, I thought. A 1981 GSX750, the one with the big fat tank, twin shocks and no fairing. 74,250 miles were on the clock and it showed. Six owners, the last looked like a drug addict with cut-offs and sharing a house with half a dozen grizzled bikers and the same number of mangy dogs. The living room had been converted into a garage cum workshop and it stunk of dog shit, spilt beer and old oil.
We pushed the heap out onto the street. No easy task, it weighed nearly 500lbs and the brakes were sticking on. The engine sounded good, catching the moment he pressed the button. Evidence of past stripdowns were the well shagged allen screws, red Hermatite around the cases and stripped exhaust flange threads.
My first ride nearly killed me. A lot of stomp from the motor, but it was a lean bugger, needing a good ten minutes before the choke could be dispensed with. Coming up to a junction I gently applied the front brake lever. Nothing, grabbing it with all four fingers and exerting maximum pressure, along with a panicked stomp on the rear brake lever, produced lots of grating noises but not much stopping power. I shot across a busy junction with 40mph up. When I arrived back at the vendor's house I was white faced and trembling.
I should have left it there. He was the worse kind of guy to buy a bike off - lots of knowledge and about as much scruples as his Dobberman. I needed transport for a 30 mile hike to work, the busses were useless and the road so bumpy that I had to buy a new set of wheels for my bicycle every week. A lot of bargaining got the price down to £500 and the promise to deliver it, as there was no way I was going to ride fifty miles home without proper brakes.
The means of delivery was an ancient bus that National Express, had they a museum, would have stomped up a lot of cash for. This didn't appear to have any brakes either, judging by the way the driver cut a path through the traffic. The neighbours all came out when this pyschedelically painted wreck appeared in our street. No sooner had I off-loaded the bike than two police cars roared into the street. The driver and the vendor were spreadeagled against the bus and then the vehicle thoroughly searched before they were allowed to leave.
It was Saturday morning, so I started to take the brakes apart. What a mess, corroded screws, stripped threads, the calipers held together with Araldite. It took me the rest of the day to strip the brakes right down. One set of pads simply wasn't there, the other had a hole in the metal. On Sunday, one spares shop was open and supplied a new set of pads and I spent the whole of that day rebuilding the calipers with new screws, helicoils and lot of cleaning up. The front brakes worked adequately after that but were not up to modern standards.
I had also noticed that the steering head bearings were shot, judging by the amount of flop the forks exhibited. I had no time to replace them, so torqued down the steering stem until the flop disappeared. This made the steering very difficult to turn and resulted in a nasty weave if I went above 50mph. This apart, the first ride to work went okay and was a blessed relief after the terror of the bicycle.
The next weekend I replaced the steering head and swinging arm bearings, the latter not an easy task as the spindle was seized in solid. Handling improved, the bike felt okay up to 80mph. After that, it began to weave again, the faster I went the worse it became. It had a Roadrunner on the front and a Michelin on the rear, both down to 3mm of tread, so I stomped up for a new set of Phantoms. The bars shook viciously at 50mph until I upped the front tyre pressure from 28 to 32psi.
It still weaved at 100mph, if anything worse than before, but below that speed could be leant through the bends quite well as long as the road was smooth. On bumpy roads all hell broke loose because the suspension was worn out and it still had the original rear shocks. A set of Konis and stiffer fork springs were bought after I had the bike for a month. It still shuffled through bumpy bends but the weave had disappeared and it would hold 120mph on the motorway. This was more like it, I thought.
I had not touched the motor. Judging by the power available I had decided that it must be okay, my only complaints were intrusive vibes at 80mph in top and 35mpg however it was ridden. There was a leak between head and cylinder head which coated the motor in oil and it needed a litre every 500 miles. I tightened up all the engine bolts and this got rid of some of the finger numbing vibes but even after I paid for the carbs to be balanced I could not improve on the economy. Talking to another owner, this seemed quite normal.
The paint on the chassis and frame was tatty, peeling off and rusty in places. so I patched it up as best I could with touch-up paint. The exhaust was a very loud 4-1, the headers permanently rusty and the silencer welded in places where it had rusted through. Most of the neighbours complained about my early morning exit, so I used to roll the bike down our hill and out into the main road before I started it. At least car drivers were always aware of my presence.
It ran for 8000 miles with no problems and little expediture other than changing the oil every 2000 miles. Then the old Suzuki bogey reared its ugly head. The battery drained itself overnight and I had to start it off the neighbour's car. The same thing happened in work. Rather than fix it, I charged the battery overnight and disconnected the live lead when I left it standing in work. After about a month the charging system failed altogether and I was running the bike on a total loss principle.
As I wanted to take the bike on holiday I decided to have the alternator rewound and put in a rectifier/regulator unit off a Honda CB900 that I bought for £35 off a breaker. The manual states that you should only use Suzuki components in no uncertain terms, but there was no way I was going to pay up for shoddy units. Whilst I was at it, I rewired the charging side of the electrics. Much to my surprise, this solution worked fine and I had no further electrical problems.
Before the holiday I decided to give the bike a full service, which included taking the cylinder head off to replace the gasket as the leak had become a flood. I had a bit of a shock when I went to do the valves, the cam lobes were pitted and two had small indents in them. The clearances of all 16 valves were okay, the camchain looked in good nick and there was no movement due to worn camshaft bearings, so I left well alone. Apart from complete replacement there was nothing else I could do, so I might as well run it until the cams were really shagged out.
The holiday was to spend a couple of weeks in Paris. The bike ran there and back like a dream, the only problem came when some gorilla on the ferry tied the bike down in a way that meant it emerged with a big dent in the tank. As it already had several small ones this did not worry me. On one stretch of French motorway I saw 135mph on the clock, although the bike was weaving across its lane of carriageway. Even caned the bike still did 35mpg.
Phantom tyres lasted 8500 miles front, 5500 miles rear. Chains only go for about 5000 miles, sprockets twice that. Disc pads about 7500 miles front, the rear for ages because I rarely use it. Not a cheap bike to run for high mileages but not as expensive as the big superbikes.
The main thing is that I enjoy riding the bike. I weigh 16 stone and am over six feet tall, so the bike's size is no problem for me, although if you're on the small size I think you will find it intimidating. I've had it for over two years now and have improved it as I've gone along. It now looks good, handles reasonably and goes like a good 750 should. My last two mods have further improved stability - a fork brace and trick alloy swinging arm. My mate's Z1 can't keep up down A roads and so called classics like the CB750 haven't got a chance. I like aircooled bikes without all that plastic rubbish over them, so the GSX750 suits me fine.
Geoff Sutton
****************************************************
These are exciting times we live in. No doubt about that as regards modern motorcycles. Also very expensive. I've been tempted to trade in my GSX750 many times for some hot-shot Japanese race replica. I've even been offered some very good deals on the GSX. When I add up the cost of fuel, servicing and insurance, though, the figures just don't make sense. Every time I become a little bored with the Suzuki four I tell myself not to be silly. Not to be taken in by the marketing hype and the glossy tests that bear no relationship to real life.
My GSX750 was built in 1987, came into my hands two years later with just 3500 miles worth of abuse. The reason for such a low mileage was chronic electrical problems. Under the guarantee just about every electrical component was replaced. Even that exercise didn't stop the alternator burning out twice in the second year. In the end, the owner had given up on original components, combining a rewound alternator with an electronic control box.
In the past 500 miles he had experienced no electrical problems, a record for this particular bike. For some reason, the owner was totally honest about the GSX and sold it to me for about £750 under the going rate. I gained the impression that he never wanted to see the thing again.
In the first couple of months I didn't venture far. Just the usual round of commuting, charging through the cages and doing GP starts. Figuring the battery needed revs to keep it charged, I caned the Suzuki in second and third for most of the time. Acceleration was giddy-making, the poor old jerks in GTi's hadn't a hope in hell of keeping up.
I did about 1600 miles of commuting before I decided that the electrics were not going to cause its demise on a long run. I did have a problem with a flickering headlight but that turned out to be worn terminals in a connector. It'd probably been ripped apart so often that it was worn out well before its time. I wound the wires together and sealed with insulation tape.
The first long trip out of town revealed that the acceleration didn't fade until 120mph, a combination of its 80 horses and reasonably aerodynamic fairing. The handling was in line with its 460lbs and the stability with its relatively modern chassis. A hot pace could be maintained on any half decent bit of road. There was a choice of rolling along in top gear, with more than adequate acceleration between 50 and 100mph, or really going for it on the slick gearbox. The first trip, of 350 miles in a day was, as I expected, done without any breakdowns.
Towards the end of the day, my backside was beginning to complain but that's more a function of my sensitive body than any complaint about the ergonomics. With the protection of the half fairing 100mph cruising held no terrors whilst the bars were sufficiently high and near to the seat to make an hour's town commuting as easy, if a lot more exciting, as lolling in front of the TV.
The first bit of money I had to spend was on a new set of front brake pads (about £25 for two pairs) at a mere 6200 miles. I put that down to some frantic braking in town. The bike hurtled forwards so rapidly, come 5000 revs in the lower gears, that the ground was eaten up before I expected. The twin discs were immensely powerful and adequately sensitive to lose speed safely and quickly.
The next expense was a new set of tyres. The bike was on Japlops, which I'd found surprisingly good in the dry. They didn't slide when heeled over at extravagant angles. Even in summer rain showers they held on to the road surface as well as most tyres. It was only when a bit of frost appeared on the road that their limits were found. Once they let loose on ice there was no way they would regain grip when they found some proper tarmac. The full 460lbs bouncing on the road sounded terminal even at 15mph, but the chassis proved more resilient than my arms and knees.
After that experience, the half worn tyres were torn off in favour of a nice new set of Pirelli Phantoms. They gave better grip than I'd expected but the rear lasted for 3750 miles! That's a record for me! A rear Roadrunner went on next, but produced some weaves when matched with the Pirelli front, something to do with radically different profiles. Reluctantly, I shelled out for a new front Avon, was relieved to find stability and grip just as good as the Phantoms. Life was much improved, 12000 miles out front and 9000 at the rear.
A couple of months in 1990 were spent proving the bike's mettle. Many thousands of miles rolled under its wheels, with shameful neglect of its motor and a bit of bodging to make the chain and sprockets last more than 10,000 miles (I was eventually to get the better of them by buying a high quality O-ring chain and sprocket kit). The GSX is the kind of bike you can load up with an excess of camping gear without upsetting its character.
Protection from the rain could've been better, as the screen sprayed off water into my chest and the visor collected droplets. I could've got my head down but it was a bit of an awkward position that soon led to a stiff neck. The plastic also thrummed with vibes above 7000 revs but everything else, save for the pillion pegs, was well insulated. One way of checking engine condition is the level of vibes, a GSX with an excess of buzzing is on the way out.
Coming into 1992 there were 24000 miles on the clock. Charging through town, the acceleration as good as ever, a rather alarming grinding noise emanated from the back of the engine. Pulling the clutch in didn't help, coming to a halt did. On the centrestand, rotating the back wheel revealed a chain that was jumping all over the place. The engine sprocket was loose on its shaft, just about ready to fall off. They needed to be bolted down with Loctite to avoid this all too common complaint. Even then, it's worth checking the cog every 5000 miles, as it keeps working loose.
A couple of months later both the swinging arm bearings and fork seals went at the same time. Any pretence the bike had towards stability did a complete disappearing act. It was almost impossible to ride above 30mph but I somehow staggered back and forth to work until the weekend. Definitely no fun. Knocking out the swinging arm was almost as difficult as fitting the seals without ruining them. A weekend's work fixed it but the whole procedure had to be repeated twice within the next 15000 miles.
I couldn't complain, the engine ran tirelessly despite only having an oil change every 5000 miles and sod all attention to the valves and carbs. The fuel tap did start leaking at one point and was so far gone that I had to buy a brand new one. The petrol tank was still sound. Indeed, for some reason - it certainly wasn't because I cleaned it very often - the bike would shine up like new with very little effort on my part. All the stranger when I'd seen younger GSX's with less miles that were real rats.
It took until nearly 50,000 miles for the rear mono-track linkage to go and the OE shock to lose most of its damping and springing. The back end would leap about like a Jack-in-the-box. A nice Marzocchi shock went straight in, along with some new bushes. Made the bike feel like new again. Around that mileage the brakes became a bit vicious in the wet. I'd clean them up every time I did a pad change but they were otherwise reliable. However, by then they were so far worn all I could do was locate a new set from the breakers.
It took until the end of 1993 and 64000 miles before the mill gave any signs of mortality. First, the cylinder head started gasping, spewing out large quantities of oil and reducing top speed to about 60mph. Tightening down the head bolts with desperate force helped for only 50 miles.
A new head gasket survived 2000 miles before I had to buy a replacement. This time because the rings had gone and vast quantities of oil was spewing out of the exhaust. I didn't want to chance using the old gasket. I thought it'd need a rebore and some valve work but the motor's run fine for the past 10,000 miles with just a new set of oil rings!
I have the feeling that the bike's going to make it around the clock at least once. The motors are tough old hulks in the Suzuki four stroke tradition. I still appreciate the sturdiness of the chassis and the friendly character of the bike.
Alan Earley
****************************************************
Crasher wanted me to buy his GSX750. Despite his name he reckoned she was straight and never been in the red. 'Course, if you believe that you'll believe anything. He practically picked me up by the scruff of the neck and dropped me on the saddle. The bike felt a lot better between the legs than it looked from a distance. Much like the only women I can get my hands on.
A couple of hours later I rolled up at Crasher's humble abode (I'm sure he's a drug dealer), trying to hide the insane grin. After a bit of bickering, a thousand notes changed hands. Not bad for an '88 model. It was only after I'd handed over the money that Crasher pointed out that the MOT was due in five days time and that the tax disc belonged to his GSXR1100. Thanks, mate!
I didn't think the MOT was much of a problem. Then I looked at the exhaust and the rear disc brake. The former was full of holes and the caliper was seized (I never use back brakes). Scream? I ran around the garage in circles waving my mole-grips in the air, chanting death threats in Crasher's direction. I had to reluctantly admire the guy, he had perfect timing (a trait confirmed by the permanent grin on his girlfriend's face).
I grumbled away to myself as I tried to remove the header bolts. They're deliberately designed to break off, as far as I can see. I sprayed on an unlikely quantity of WD40 and beat the odds by only breaking off one! The four into two exhaust fell apart when I tried to remove it. A used Motad four into one was secured from the breaker, along with a rear caliper, and hammered on to good effect.
As soon as everything was working I rushed down to the MOT tester, a back street hovel with yellow walls from the chain smoking old git who'd been there since I was born. He muttered something about me being a stupid boy buying this kind of Suzuki as they were renown for their doubtful electrics. After half an hour of cackling he gave me the certificate.
I roared up to Crasher's mansion to boast at this unlikely achievement only to find that the bugger had gone off to the States. The Motad's growl at tickover had his Dobberman monsters trying to charge out of their kennels (he breeded the beasts) so I got out of there so fast I almost hit a car that was meandering along the road. A few taps on his roof with my fist woke the driver up.
The GSX wasn't exactly easy to ride, weighing in at nearly 500lbs and having a hole in the power output between 2000 and 3000 revs (on both the stock and Motad exhausts). The bike ran a lot better under acceleration than at a constant rate of knots. Between 5000 and 6500 revs, the engine refused to settle at constant revs. I figured there was some wear in the carbs but they just needed a balance. Once that was done the bike was transformed, roaring through traffic like a cruise missile. Alas, the carbs needed a balance every 500 miles, a pain given the robustness of the rest of the motor.
The carbs were efficient, though, mild riding giving around 60mpg and even crazed throttle work still resulting in 40mpg. I usually bettered 50mpg. Another sign that the engine was in good condition was that no oil was used between 1500 changes. The motor was completely oil tight.
I didn't know what kind of mileage the bike had done as it was fitted with a newish speedo that read just 4000 miles! Not even Crasher could've passed the GSX off as low mileage. The plastic was curdled, the paint faded and blistered with rust, the alloy was encrusted with white corrosion like an ancient fossil, and the seat had a good going over by some knife wielding vandal.
None of this was a great worry, all it'd take was some hard graft and a few tins of paint and polish. I made various excuses until I became fed up with being stopped by the cops, who'd snigger about Japanese crap and direct me to the nearest scrap yard. A weekend's worth of hard work cleaned off the worst of the corrosion. It was whilst I had the front wheel between my legs, furiously working a rag around the hub that I found some cracks.
Judging by the depth of the original corrosion the alloy was really crap. Rather worrying given the importance of having a front wheel that didn't fall apart. The cracks were hairline, starting where the disc sat, making me suspect electrolytic corrosion between the two different materials. I'd advise anyone with an old Jap to give the wheels a good going over. Out of three wheels I found in the breakers, two were similarly afflicted. When I told the breaker he just shrugged, squeaked something about them being bought as seen. Everything went back together and the bike looked half decent.
By then Crasher was back in town, full of himself, having acquired a crate full of Harleys, most of which he'd sold sight unseen. Like a lamb to the slaughter I looked through the pictures and fell for a two year old 883. Only £2500, said he, perfect nick, have every young girl in the town desperate for a ride. When I stopped panting I managed to say yes and give him £250 as a deposit. I had two months to sort out the rest of the money.
I put the GSX up for sale for £2000. Some chap took her for a test ride, came back with a stuttering engine. The electrics had gone, would I take £500? F..k that! I suspected he'd sabotaged the electrical system but no it was the good old burnt out alternator scenario. It was enough to turn me to voodoo.
The usual hassle with the alternator cover screws that'd been fitted by psychotic robots - only three broke off. The alternator was a blackened mass, sent off for an exchange one that came within four days. I secured a Superdream rectifier/regulator, topped the battery up and went over all the wiring. All was well with the GSX on reassembly.
I tried a few more adverts but apart from some desultory phone calls (''I can manage £600, mate, how that sound......'') no-one wanted the bike. I rode around in an increasing frenzy, an accident looking for somewhere to happen. The GSX topped out at 130mph, would even hold 120mph if I crouched down behind the half fairing. It all seemed too frenzied to me, my head full of languid Harley dreams. The small front wheel was well twitchy on anything other than a perfectly smooth road but it never seemed to develop into anything serious.
Comfort was good, even with the slashed seat, the suspension able to soak up both small and large bumps without going into pogo-stick mode. I particularly liked the Full Floater rear end, which would take bumps even when well heeled over. Cornering was much more limited by the mass than the suspension or the grip of the Pirelli's.... my muscles were given a full workout when riding fast down a series of country roads.
The front discs combined with the anti-dive worked exceptionally well for a while, until some air found its way into the hydraulics and the two systems started fighting each other. When I released the brake the forks would unwind, bouncing the front end about like the springs were breaking up. Countless evenings and tins of brake fluid were blown trying to remove all the air until I gave up and took the anti-dive out of the system.
By then I'd reduced the price to £1500, going out of my mind with annoyance when I realised that insurance rate hikes meant no-one wanted bikes over 600's, certainly not old bruisers like the GSX which had trouble keeping up with hot 400's. To heap trouble upon my shoulders I had a mild crash into the side of an Escort. The bent wheel didn't go down well as I knew they were hard to find but the cager licked off a few fifties and wished me well.
By the time I secured a wheel, the Harley had turned up and the price was down to £1250. That had the phone ringing all day long and someone turned up with the dosh. Hurray, I'd gotten rid of the damn thing.
That's a bit unfair, electrics aside, the GSX750's a tough old beast with a fair turn of speed. But I found the bike rather bland with the frightening feeling that the chassis was rotting away beneath me (rust was breaking out again on the frame despite my previous efforts and the calipers were starting to seize up). The Harley's slow, handles strangely and vibrates harshly but it has bags of character, something the poor old GSX just wouldn't recognize.
L.Jones
A couple of hours later I rolled up at Crasher's humble abode (I'm sure he's a drug dealer), trying to hide the insane grin. After a bit of bickering, a thousand notes changed hands. Not bad for an '88 model. It was only after I'd handed over the money that Crasher pointed out that the MOT was due in five days time and that the tax disc belonged to his GSXR1100. Thanks, mate!
I didn't think the MOT was much of a problem. Then I looked at the exhaust and the rear disc brake. The former was full of holes and the caliper was seized (I never use back brakes). Scream? I ran around the garage in circles waving my mole-grips in the air, chanting death threats in Crasher's direction. I had to reluctantly admire the guy, he had perfect timing (a trait confirmed by the permanent grin on his girlfriend's face).
I grumbled away to myself as I tried to remove the header bolts. They're deliberately designed to break off, as far as I can see. I sprayed on an unlikely quantity of WD40 and beat the odds by only breaking off one! The four into two exhaust fell apart when I tried to remove it. A used Motad four into one was secured from the breaker, along with a rear caliper, and hammered on to good effect.
As soon as everything was working I rushed down to the MOT tester, a back street hovel with yellow walls from the chain smoking old git who'd been there since I was born. He muttered something about me being a stupid boy buying this kind of Suzuki as they were renown for their doubtful electrics. After half an hour of cackling he gave me the certificate.
I roared up to Crasher's mansion to boast at this unlikely achievement only to find that the bugger had gone off to the States. The Motad's growl at tickover had his Dobberman monsters trying to charge out of their kennels (he breeded the beasts) so I got out of there so fast I almost hit a car that was meandering along the road. A few taps on his roof with my fist woke the driver up.
The GSX wasn't exactly easy to ride, weighing in at nearly 500lbs and having a hole in the power output between 2000 and 3000 revs (on both the stock and Motad exhausts). The bike ran a lot better under acceleration than at a constant rate of knots. Between 5000 and 6500 revs, the engine refused to settle at constant revs. I figured there was some wear in the carbs but they just needed a balance. Once that was done the bike was transformed, roaring through traffic like a cruise missile. Alas, the carbs needed a balance every 500 miles, a pain given the robustness of the rest of the motor.
The carbs were efficient, though, mild riding giving around 60mpg and even crazed throttle work still resulting in 40mpg. I usually bettered 50mpg. Another sign that the engine was in good condition was that no oil was used between 1500 changes. The motor was completely oil tight.
I didn't know what kind of mileage the bike had done as it was fitted with a newish speedo that read just 4000 miles! Not even Crasher could've passed the GSX off as low mileage. The plastic was curdled, the paint faded and blistered with rust, the alloy was encrusted with white corrosion like an ancient fossil, and the seat had a good going over by some knife wielding vandal.
None of this was a great worry, all it'd take was some hard graft and a few tins of paint and polish. I made various excuses until I became fed up with being stopped by the cops, who'd snigger about Japanese crap and direct me to the nearest scrap yard. A weekend's worth of hard work cleaned off the worst of the corrosion. It was whilst I had the front wheel between my legs, furiously working a rag around the hub that I found some cracks.
Judging by the depth of the original corrosion the alloy was really crap. Rather worrying given the importance of having a front wheel that didn't fall apart. The cracks were hairline, starting where the disc sat, making me suspect electrolytic corrosion between the two different materials. I'd advise anyone with an old Jap to give the wheels a good going over. Out of three wheels I found in the breakers, two were similarly afflicted. When I told the breaker he just shrugged, squeaked something about them being bought as seen. Everything went back together and the bike looked half decent.
By then Crasher was back in town, full of himself, having acquired a crate full of Harleys, most of which he'd sold sight unseen. Like a lamb to the slaughter I looked through the pictures and fell for a two year old 883. Only £2500, said he, perfect nick, have every young girl in the town desperate for a ride. When I stopped panting I managed to say yes and give him £250 as a deposit. I had two months to sort out the rest of the money.
I put the GSX up for sale for £2000. Some chap took her for a test ride, came back with a stuttering engine. The electrics had gone, would I take £500? F..k that! I suspected he'd sabotaged the electrical system but no it was the good old burnt out alternator scenario. It was enough to turn me to voodoo.
The usual hassle with the alternator cover screws that'd been fitted by psychotic robots - only three broke off. The alternator was a blackened mass, sent off for an exchange one that came within four days. I secured a Superdream rectifier/regulator, topped the battery up and went over all the wiring. All was well with the GSX on reassembly.
I tried a few more adverts but apart from some desultory phone calls (''I can manage £600, mate, how that sound......'') no-one wanted the bike. I rode around in an increasing frenzy, an accident looking for somewhere to happen. The GSX topped out at 130mph, would even hold 120mph if I crouched down behind the half fairing. It all seemed too frenzied to me, my head full of languid Harley dreams. The small front wheel was well twitchy on anything other than a perfectly smooth road but it never seemed to develop into anything serious.
Comfort was good, even with the slashed seat, the suspension able to soak up both small and large bumps without going into pogo-stick mode. I particularly liked the Full Floater rear end, which would take bumps even when well heeled over. Cornering was much more limited by the mass than the suspension or the grip of the Pirelli's.... my muscles were given a full workout when riding fast down a series of country roads.
The front discs combined with the anti-dive worked exceptionally well for a while, until some air found its way into the hydraulics and the two systems started fighting each other. When I released the brake the forks would unwind, bouncing the front end about like the springs were breaking up. Countless evenings and tins of brake fluid were blown trying to remove all the air until I gave up and took the anti-dive out of the system.
By then I'd reduced the price to £1500, going out of my mind with annoyance when I realised that insurance rate hikes meant no-one wanted bikes over 600's, certainly not old bruisers like the GSX which had trouble keeping up with hot 400's. To heap trouble upon my shoulders I had a mild crash into the side of an Escort. The bent wheel didn't go down well as I knew they were hard to find but the cager licked off a few fifties and wished me well.
By the time I secured a wheel, the Harley had turned up and the price was down to £1250. That had the phone ringing all day long and someone turned up with the dosh. Hurray, I'd gotten rid of the damn thing.
That's a bit unfair, electrics aside, the GSX750's a tough old beast with a fair turn of speed. But I found the bike rather bland with the frightening feeling that the chassis was rotting away beneath me (rust was breaking out again on the frame despite my previous efforts and the calipers were starting to seize up). The Harley's slow, handles strangely and vibrates harshly but it has bags of character, something the poor old GSX just wouldn't recognize.
L.Jones