The Suzuki GSX400F is a neat package
of reasonable power, moderate weight and restrained, even pretty,
styling. Not too much of that was evident in the heap that sat
in my garage. Rust, alloy rot and oil leaks obscured the flow
of its line. A top end that actually clanked rather than rattled
offered thought for the paranoid; Suzuki's earlier attempts at
four valve heads were fraught with sinking valves, overheating
and early demise.
I'd ridden it home sixty miles
in that state, after handing over 150 notes. It'd cruise at 60
to 70mph without too much hassle, but by the time we rolled up
at the house, the battery was so flat that when I left the bike
ticking over it stalled dead. This era of Suzukis famous for self-destructive
electrics. Especially on the GSX400F, the crankcase sump was always
minimal, running low on oil getting the engine so hot that it'd
overheat the alternator. Melted windings could then short out
the rest of the electrical system.
I had expected the worst, reflected
in the price I'd paid. I actually enjoy tearing a motorcycle down
to its bearings. Enjoy the fight with seized in spindles and the
hassles with recalcitrant screws. Man versus rotted Japanese alloy.
It took about a month to sort out the GSX. New consumables, bearings
and cables. Secondhand head, calipers and electrics. A lot of
rubbing down and touching up of the tank and frame. The chrome
front guard looked newish, certainly wasn't original as they rust
from the underside until they fall off. The seat, wheels and engine
finish still looked tatty.
The bike felt quite good on the
road, even though I hadn't done anything to the suspension. The
rear shocks were not original, were much tauter than the forks
which bounced on their stops every time I hit the twin front discs.
Partly, that was down to the discs being slightly warped, giving
the brake a very grabby feel. I couldn't find any better discs
in the breakers, so it seems a common problem.
The refurbished electrics didn't
seem to be working. The battery drained off after about 40 miles
of commuting. I could tolerate that for a while as it went back
and forth to work without completely flattening the battery. I'd
fitted a used alternator but this had only some of the coils generating
electricity. I sent it off to be rewound and about a week later
I was back on the road with a battery that held its charge.
I soon came to enjoy the Suzuki
in the traffic, being narrow and light enough to make full use
of its 45 horses. On new Avon tyres it had a nice, secure feel
that allowed me to fling it around like a 250. My disregard for
its age, revving the motor to 11,000 in second and third, had
the engine churning out the vibration like a loosely secured air-conditioner.
The tank blurred between my legs and my hands went dead after
about five minutes of this abuse.
The bellow from the rotted exhaust
meant I never had to worry about using the horn to make cagers
aware of my careering path. I often ended up burning off a layer
of front rubber when they made their move regardless of their
knowledge of my presence. Perhaps that explained the way the calipers
quickly started weeping brake fluid. The first I knew of this
was the lever coming back to the bars, the bike charging forward
rather than stopping.
The brand new Merc that the front
wheel hit was heavily creased before it cracked up. I bounced
off the seat, my groin whacking the bars which rudely, and incredibly
painfully, twitched between my legs as the front wheel collapsed.
Mercedes are tough cars, the wrecked door and wing had not gone
in so far as to injure the driver. A grotesque city type, who
shouted above my wailing, that he was a lawyer and was going to
sue my butt off. Fortunately, the position of the car made it
obvious that he had turned out of the traffic into my path and
the police, for once, gave the cager a lecture on dangerous driving.
I almost smiled through the tears.
The GS550 front end didn't go
straight on but it was the kind of mechanical challenge that I
revelled in. It only took a weekend to put the bike back on the
road. That was when things started to go rapidly down hill. Rushing
across London during the night, playing a fairly intense game
of dodgems with the cars, the electrical system ceased to function.
Suddenly finding myself with a dead engine and no lights in the
midst of crazy psychopaths had the adrenalin going wild, as I
paddled the Suzuki into the gutter.
The fuse box was charred beyond
recognition. The regulator/rectifier unit (used, off a CX650)
was not much better off and the area beneath the seat was splattered
with battery acid. The seat subsequently fell apart. There was
nothing for it but to push the bugger the four miles home. I had
plenty of time to muse on the unfairness of life, the weight of
the Suzuki and the poor design of the disc brakes that left the
pads dragging.
What appeared to have happened
was that the crash had jolted one of the alternator wires on to
the top of the engine, where it had a chance to burn through and
short out the whole electrical system. I ran the bike with just
a battery and no charging system for a couple of months until
I could locate the parts needed as cheaply as possible. As I had
plenty of time, I bought a book on alternator rewinding and ended
up doing that job myself at minimal cost.
To celebrate the complete electrical
restoration, and the arrival of warm weather, I headed for the
East Coast and the delights of rural England. By the time I came
home, after about 450 miles of hard charging, the top end was
rattling and some smoke was escaping from the exhaust on the overrun.
When I kicked the silencer in annoyance, it creaked, cracked and
ended hanging off the 4-1 downpipe rather lopsidedly....
It occurred to me, as I looked
at the burnt out exhaust valves, that the straight through, rusted
exhaust might have been responsible for the damage, causing the
engine to run lean and overheat. Good cylinder heads for this
model are extremely rare but I managed to locate some used valves
that I ground into the passable valve seats. A cheap, rusted universal
megaphone was added at the grand cost of £2.
Neither the straight through exhaust
nor the megaphone had much effect on the power delivery, which
was basically serene to 7500rpm and from then on harsh and horny.
As I tended to use the top end of the rev range all the time I
was quite content with 55mpg and negligible oil consumption between
1000 mile changes. That was about the only maintenance the Suzuki
got, the carbs didn't need any attention and the valves only lost
their clearances when something terminal happened inside the cylinder
head. That was my theory, anyway.
Most of the mileage that followed
was hardcore commuting, which the Suzuki handled with a natural
ease. I tried to avoid overloading the electrical system by not
using the lights or horn, but batteries still expired in less
than six months and bulbs would blow. Must have been some voltage
surges getting through. There were always minor problems, as on
any hack, with rotting calipers, quick stretch chains, bits falling
off, etc but it rarely failed to take me back and forth to work
at high speed with a lot of fun thrown in for free.
After a year the clock had gone
over 45000 miles. I thought I'd had quite good value out of it
and it was time to move on to something in better condition that
I could feel safe in using for long distance touring. In its prime,
the GSX could cruise at 90mph in reasonable comfort for a couple
of hours but my example was too full of rattles, knocks and burning
electrics to trust for much more than 50 miles in a day. The suspension
had gone off, as well, making what, new, had been a svelte handler
become very vague in fast bends, with all kinds of shakes and
wobbles threatening that any attempt at a high speed run would
probably end with a multiple surgery session in the nearest hospital.
Appearance was so poor and engine
so noisy that I only wanted £200. This resulted in a constantly
ringing telephone. For some reason, no one believed my honesty
in calling the bike a useful hack for town work but otherwise
a complete dog. Many were the people who turned up who went away
cursing the state of the bike. Not at any price was their reaction.
Finally, a true road rat turned up, handed over a filthy pile
of tenners with the injunction that I'd have to ride it back to
his house, with him on the pillion, some 45 miles away.
There didn't seem any easy way
of getting out of that. I knew the suspension wouldn't like our
combined mass but didn't quite expect the motor to churn out such
an excessive amount of vibration. I pushed on as hard as I dared,
about 90 minutes later pulled up outside his house. Even the exhaust
note was drowned out by the furiously knocking main bearings.
I gave him back a hundred quid, figuring I was losing my sense
of timing.
Harry Reynolds
****************************************************
Style is everything in Japan.
It's that old thing about the guy with the smallest cock having
the biggest car or the chap with the maximum flash motorcycle
having the lowest self-esteem. As the Japanese are retro mad it
didn't take much thought for Suzuki to re-invent the Katana, which
was so innovatively shaped in its day that it could still pass
as a thoroughly modern motorcycle had not its form been so well
assimilated by the motorcycling masses. Japanese licensing laws
and their small stature means the Kat is only available as a 250
or 400 rather than 1000 or 1100cc monsters.
The four cylinder engine, despite
the fining, is derived from the watercooled Bandit motor, but
slightly detuned from 60hp at 12000rpm to 53hp at 10,500rpm, although
maximum torque is still developed at 9500rpm. The GSX400S is a
much more compact machine than the old 1100, weighing only 400lbs.
The tank seems narrower and slightly shorter than of old, although
the seat is the same piece of hard sculptured abnormality that's
as uncomfortable as it's pretty (the pillion perch is relatively
plush). The overall riding position wasn't as comfortable as of
old, marred by too low bars and footrests mounted a good four
inches too far forward.....shades of seventies bikes, there. My
wrists were angled so that both the throttle and clutch became
heavy going after 15 minutes in town.
The six speed gearbox was one
of the sweetest I've ever experienced. The motor didn't put out
shovel loads of torque, but whirred away efficiently below 8000rpm
in a clean running if rather antiseptic way. It was easy enough
to change up and down the box without risking wrist strain on
the clutch. The motor never really felt like it was making over
50 horses, was too civilised, and too lacking in any violent impulses,
for that. Around 12000 revs tingling vibes began to set in, mostly
in the pegs. Taking it to 13000 in third really blitzed the chassis,
but power had long since peaked and it was really just thrashing
the motor out of boredom, waiting to see what would break. Nothing
did, of course; an exercise in futility.
As I said, this bike is about
style; anyone looking for wild performance out on the edge would
be better off with one of the Suzuki's harder, meaner cousins.
That style over all else dumps modern ergonomics in favour of
iron age pain; which is fine if you're Japanese, when pain thresholds
are much higher than for effete Westerners (if you don't believe
me, go to the hospital for a jab) and for this pampered boy more
than 30 minutes on the Katana was akin to being tortured with
sharp knifes.
The GSX had a slight top heaviness,
nothing compared with the old 1100, but just enough to make me
slightly wary of flinging the bike recklessly through chaotic
traffic for the first couple of days. Riders short of leg will
find themselves in panic attack country. Once I'd become reassured
that it wasn't going to relentlessly flop right over, I speeded
up my town riding to a tolerable level. The thin 18'' front tyre
never felt too happy in combination with the fat 17'' rear, which
made for a skittish feel over anything less than a perfectly smooth
road surface. Road banding or lines gave the front end a queasy
feel; the tyre never wholly convincing in its grips when a bit
of rain splattered the surface.
Indeed, rain proved to be less
than fun. Water was sprayed off the tiny screen straight into
my neck, my hands were similarly doused and the engine would get
a fit of the stutters when the rain fell really heavily. Water
found its way into the groove between fairing and tank, running
down to swamp the spark plug recesses. As a thoroughly modern
motorcycle there was no way the plugs were accessible without
tearing off the petrol tank and plastic. So fatal was the ingress
of water that there were already rust spots under the one year
old tank!
The frame followed the trend set
by the rest of the bike. What you could see looked reasonably
robust, an imitation, even an improvement, of the old 1100 Katana
trellis. When the tank was removed, though, the bracing around
the headstock looked minimal and the upper frame a touch scanty.
With the mismatched rubber it
made for some interesting antics if the speedo was pushed beyond
the ton, bringing in some weaves and wallowing that were all too
redolent of the machines that these bikes are based upon. I didn't
experience any speed wobbles even when I managed to get the reluctant
machine to touch 115mph, but it was, to my mind, a close run thing
when the road surface became a little bumpy.
The riding position left me perfectly
placed to take a battering from any road bumps the suspension
failed to absorb (and there seemed an awful lot of them), so trying
to do a 100 miles in an hour not only left me battered and bruised
but I could barely walk for about 30 minutes. Some motorcycles
are so scintillating that such behaviour can be forgiven, but
the biggest edge the Katana possesses is its lack of comfort.
On smooth, rapid roads it tracks
well enough, can be twitched through the bends without too many
frightening lurches and will even leap off the top of small hills
without messing up its chassis. It's more like an eighties GSX550
than a nineties machine, with the same malign attributes lurking
under the initial impression of good-heartedness. The 250 version
even has the same paint job as the old GSX series, which looks
very naff alongside the plain silver of the 400.
The brakes were a thoroughly modern
set of discs, twins out front and a singular rear. They had both
feel and power, even worked okay in the wet. The front brake was
a bit vicious on the fork springs and the rear would occasionally
lock up the back wheel without any warning. The only real complaint
was that with just 6500 miles on the clock, the front pads were
jangling around like loose change in a pocket; already worn down
to the metal. The heavy madness of the traffic had meant the front
brake was used until the discs glowed red in the dark.
The suspension was fine over minor
bumps but the heavy stuff caused the Kat to jerk about like a
Rap dancer. The remote reservoir twin shocks were mostly neat
looking ornaments, when the bike was flung through bumpy bends,
their moderate damping went AWOL and the back wheel felt like
its bearings were cracking up. It was, ultimately, not as bad
as it felt as the steering geometry kept the bike on its line;
it was just a question of hanging on and waiting for the shudders
to calm down. The limits of the experience became much less when
riding with a pillion. Okay for moderate speeding but not much
cop far out on the periphery of the handling.
After about two weeks of hustling
I was used to the handling but becoming bored with the performance.
That's the Japanese way with motorcycles, they're produced as
throwaway consumables that after the newness wears off a little
need to be replaced with the latest toy in town. Quite how that
works out with the retro breed, which by their very nature aren't
supposed to look like the latest toy in town, will bear some thought.
Riders will probably become so pissed that they'll start buying
modern motorcycles again.
I dare say a decent pair of shocks
and a proper set of tyres would sort out most of the Suzuki's
handling foibles, though parts of the frame would remain a bit
suspect. Either changing the bars or pegs would drastically improve
the riding position and long distance comfort. The engine is hardly
hard charging and there's no easy way of getting more power out
of it, though replacing the quiet exhaust might let loose a few
more horses and even give the engine a bit of a power band. I
guess it all depends on how enamoured you are with the styling.
I'd go for one of old 1100 Kats, which for the same kind of money
as a grey import GSX400S in the UK would provide lots more fun
and games.
Mike Prescotte
****************************************************
The need for a new bike came to
mind after thrashing an XT600E from Maidstone to Oxford in record
time. 90mph most of the way, save for the chronic roadworks on
the M25. The XT was brilliant for speeding through traffic but
the upright riding position meant I was blown about halfway to
death. I was skint when I went looking but turned up a nice low
mileage import Z550Ltd which was worth about £400 less than
the XT.
Three weeks later the dealer still
hadn't registered the Kawasaki - as the XT was clocking up around
1500 miles a week I had to do something before its value dropped
too low for me to do a straight swap. So, off to a bike shop in
darkest Kent which was full of clean, shining used bikes. Being
rather short of leg a lot of the bigger machinery was just too
much to sling through traffic on city runs and the greed of the
insurance companies put paid to anything bigger than a 600.
The only bike that fell into the
value range I could manage at the time was a 1986 Suzuki GSX400F.
After a decent test ride a deal was struck. The bike had a Krauser
top box and pannier rack, the dealer explaining that the previous
owner was a friend who was going to drop the panniers in during
the week and I could collect them next weekend. Off I rode into
the November night on my new work-tool, looking forward to a nice
long distance blast up the motorway on Monday.
Picture the scene. Monday morning,
cold air and a despatch rider, in numerous layers of clothing
topped off with Rukka's, pushing the start button and hearing
the starter catch, turn the engine and grind to a complete halt.
Now picture the same courier ten minutes later, looking totally
shagged out and muttering curses at the world.
The engine finally fired up after
being jumped from a car battery and I set off for work. The first
week went perfectly, all seemed well until it lost interest in
starting again. Once warm, however, it was easy enough to bump.
After discovering that the dealer's guarantee covered only labour,
I bought and fitted a new battery myself.
Every cable on the bike decided
to snap at the same time and the live supply wire to the ignition
switch rotted, killing the bike altogether, suggesting it'd spent
a long time under a sheet in someone's garden. The Krausers, by
the way, were nowhere to be seen.
The choice of tyres fitted by
the previous owner suggested a certain lack of concern for personal
safety. The rear was an Avon R2 Roadrunner of indeterminate age
and the front a King's tyre all the way from Taiwan. The name
suggested to me that if Taiwan had a King then a group of anarchists
had designed the tyre in the hope of shortening his life expectancy.
Not so much of a problem, as I was able to alter my riding technique
to suit.
Another feature of the bike didn't
help, though, unless the roads were bone dry. The Suzuki was fitted
with hydraulic anti-dive which when the front twin discs were
applied closed a valve that then restricted the flow of damping
oil through the left fork leg. In theory a great idea.....had
not the previous owner filled the forks with something a bloody
sight thicker than the recommended SAE 15 grade oil.
The front brake's master cylinder
was so efficient that the lever only came back half an inch before
going solid, hauling the bike up very, very quickly. The overall
effect was that the front end lacked any feedback while the braking
led to more than one trouser browning moment, not helped any by
the dubious front rubber.
The problem disappeared when I
stripped the forks, after draining off what looked more like sludge
than oil, washed all the parts in paraffin, reassembled them with
SAE15 and fitted a master cylinder off a Z400F which I just happened
to be breaking at the time. Gone was the on/off action but the
brake was still plenty powerful enough.
A few days went by during which
all was well with the world. The GSX being quick enough for motorway
work, yet narrow and light enough to throw around in Shit City
traffic. Then disaster. On a late night run to Eastbourne, wait
and return, the lights started playing up. Headlight flashing
in time with the indicators, and the starter was useless. It would
only start with a very long, fast push and would then die if the
lights were turned on with the engine running below 7000 revs.
It did get me back to Maidstone
and then home but it was a bloody struggle. Once there the Suzuki
syndrome was diagnosed, the Z400's regulator pack was bodged on
in place of the pitiful thing Suzuki specified. Next day, a new
battery was fitted and I consoled myself with the thought that
the alternator was still intact. I'm amazed that Suzuki can get
away with fitting such electrics but it's not as bad as Honda's
camchains or Yamaha's calipers.
Back to work until one day there's
a clacking noise from the transmission under power. Oops! The
rear sprocket was a circle with bumps where the teeth had been
- and I've got a multi-drop to Basildon, Chelmsford and Colchester
on board. Much clutch slipping later I finished the job and talked
the boss into subbing me £60 for a heavy-duty chain and
sprocket set.
A week later I fitted a new Roadrunner
only to have the Motad Neta split. The local car repair shop welded
the split and reinforced the pipe where it met the downpipes.
Where the headers met the silencer it was pretty thin. All for
a fiver. One of the header bolts sheared where it goes into the
barrel and when I fitted a set of crash-bars the only way I removed
the front engine mounting bolt was after emptying a can of WD40
and using excessive leverage.
A week later the battery boiled
dry again despite the regulator checking out okay. I fitted a
slightly taller battery out of a CX after modifying the bracket.
New regulator and all the earth connections on the bike cleaned
up. Still no Krausers despite several calls. Another snapped speedo
drive cable later, the handling started to seriously deteriorate,
the front end sliding away on corners.
The first time it happened I was
on a roundabout just outside Maidstone heading for Uxbridge when
the front end disappeared and both rider and bike went skating
across the road horizontally. I got up, looked for the diesel
on the road but couldn't find any and couldn't see anything obvious
wrong with the tyre. After about the 30th slide I found, under
close examination, that the front tyre had worn unevenly, putting
only half the rubber on the road when I was banked over.
On went a Metzeler Laser, which
turned the handling quick, precise and very confidence inspiring.
Then, yes, there's more, the weather turned from cold winter to
wet winter and spring - the shit really hit the fan! On any journey
over 30 miles the engine would go on to two cylinders until the
rain stopped and ten minutes later the engine returned to a four.
Not too bad in showers but prolonged rain would be hell, running
on two cylinders.
God knows what the two cylinders
were wearing like with all that neat petrol washing off the oil
on the walls. The last owner had stuck silicone gasket around
the coils where the HT leads exited so I added some around the
plug caps for good luck. It didn't help and within days the profits
of the company making WD40 trebled.
One night, on the way home on
the unlit M20, the bike died and the WD ran out. I took the tank
off on the hard shoulder and dried the coils with a bit of rag
from the tool kit. Cranking the engine over revealed an exciting
light show. Sparks were flowing all over the coils and leads,
jumping to the frame. Out came the AA card, we completed the trip
in a big warm yellow van.
A used set of CBR600 coils match
the GSX's engine and even allow new HT leads to be fitted. The
first rain and it was back to two cylinders at Leamington Spa
then no cylinders at Reading. WD40 didn't help. AA again then
a set of Halford's silicone plug leads with moulded on plug caps.
Then on the way back from Banbury, one day, it died again. AA
yet again, but on the way home I decided I couldn't go on like
this - spending more time on the hard shoulder than working. I
quit before I was sacked. The next step was to waterproof every
connector on the bike. Even this didn't cure it, the final straw
when one coil short-circuited and took out the ignition unit.
The GSX has a wonderful engine
that required nothing more than 1500 mile oil changes and valve
checks. It's pretty quick but the electrics are shit. Finish goes
off in winter, handling's average, comfort's good if you're short.
I'm thinking of breaking the bike as there's no easy way to fix
it.
JPB
****************************************************
There are a lot of rumours and
stories about the engine in the GSX400F. Suzuki, famed for its
550 to 1000cc GS range, had failed to imbue their reputation for
reliability into their smallest four. Which was rather odd, though
its 16 valve head might've been viewed as suspicious in 1981.
But it wasn't the top end that caused the hassles but the crankshaft.
This from a sump that lacked sufficient capacity - might the heat
dissipation of the 16 valve head have destroyed the oil with unexpected
speed? Anyway, Suzuki added a bigger sump pan and then all was
well. Or was it?
I was pondering this when looking
at a dealer housed example. 1983, 29000 miles, nice paint and
slightly dodgy chrome and alloy. I explained my doubts to the
salesman who quickly hid an annoyed scowl (probably cursing the
information in the UMG, which I was clutching prominently in one
hand) in favour of some reassuring patter. It basically boiled
down to a three month guarantee or an extra £100 for a year's
warranty. Of course, if I wanted to pay cash and take my chances
by buying sold as seen, a large discount was possible.
He started up the engine and it
sounded good. I sat on the bike and it felt, er, good. The salesman
smiled encouragingly, as if at a child trying to walk for the
first time. A quarter hour's blast later, I felt good about the
way the motor would scream into the red and how easy the 400lb
machine was to chuck through the curves. I definitely wanted the
bike but I pretended to be indifferent. I started to walk away,
moaning that I couldn't afford that kind of money. The end result
was a price of £775 instead of the quoted £1250 (this
in 1992); sold as seen. Dealer margins are often ridiculous.
There followed a bit of a learning
process. I learnt that the engine could be thrashed into the red
in most gears. 110mph! I learnt that I shouldn't go into corners
on the brakes. The suspension just couldn't take it, the OE rear
shocks being noteworthy for their weakness. I also learnt that
the twin front discs could howl the tyre and put the forks down
on their stops...and if I tried this in the wet I fell off.
Momentarily, after the violence
and viciousness of the skid, I was relieved to be able to pick
myself up and find that I was still in one piece. My first clue
to the extent of the damage was the large pool of oil under the
bike. At first I thought it'd merely ripped off the alternator,
an infamously poor piece of equipment. The damage ran a lot deeper
than that, to, I later found, a bent crankshaft. I learnt from
this that the definition of a fool is someone who rides a GSX400F
without engine bars.
To make the embarrassment all
the greater, the salesman turned up in an ultra-flash Range Rover
and chuckled at my predicament before driving off. Bastard! I
pushed the bike the half mile home. A week later some so-called
friend tried to sell me a GN400 motor that he reckoned would fit
straight in. To avoid this catastrophic event I quickly found
a crashed bike with an intact, running engine for £400.
The forks, tank, wheels and exhaust were ruined but there was
lots of stuff that could be salvaged, including a complete electrical
system. The engine went in without too much pain, a couple of
mates helping with the lifting.
The new mill didn't have the power
of the old one, perhaps because the clock read 43000 miles. More
than 95mph equated to an awful lot of secondary vibes. A full
service was obviously needed. Both the valves and carbs were miles
out. That done, performance and smoothness were improved, yet
not equal to the original engine.
Incidentally, I decided that the
slide was partially down to the old Japlop tyres having gone as
hard as plastic, not that they were endowed with excessive grip
from new. A new set of Metz's were fitted before the next downpour.
The bike didn't like rain. This time I didn't fall off. The engine
went down to two or three cylinders. The power suddenly exploding,
making the back tyre waggle all over the shop. I was frightened
to the point where I was thinking of getting off and pushing the
bike home.
A couple of weeks later starting
became very erratic. The spark was a weak yellow at the plugs;
a used set of coils revived the ignition. Happily, the cutting
out in the wet was also eradicated. I used coils off a GSX750
but had no problems with them. There are dire warnings about mixing
and matching electrical components but stock stuff tends to be
so weak that I always work on the basis that it can't get any
worse.
By then I wasn't too impressed
by the GSX - too much hassle for too few kicks. For the next three
months and 4000 miles, though, it ran really well. Not a moment's
trouble. I did find that the front light was a bit lacking in
intensity for night riding and that the seat was too hard for
more than half an hour's commuting. Handling was fine, acceleration
adequate, running costs low and the amount of effort needed to
ride it was minimal. I was soon singing its praises to my mates.
Then all the consumables ran out
at the same time. Tyres, chain, pads and exhaust (they rust so
quickly they have to be considered as a consumable). The total
cost was ridiculous so it was around the breakers, picking up
bits here and there. One thing, don't bother trying to fit modern
tyres - impossible. Pay a fiver to the experts and save yourself
a lot of blood, sweat and tears.
A summer's blitz up one side and
down the other of the UK went without any serious incidents, although
one of my friends fell off his GS550 and another blew up his Z650.
In this company the GSX wasn't really out of its depth. They were
a bit faster on motorways but tended not to trash their engines
into the red, unlike myself. The GSX could be slung around with
much greater ease, causing the bigger fours to try to run off
the road when they tried to emulate my line. Mainly, because they
were close to a 100lbs heavier.
By the time we got home the cosmetics
had deteriorated - I blame all that bloody Scottish rain. Wheels,
front guard, exhaust and engine alloy were all far gone. Much
effort was expended cleaning them up. I shouldn't have bothered,
after the first storm they were just as bad as before. Bloody
old Jap's are all the same as regards crap finish. I thought it
was time to sell whilst I still had something left to sell.
A few adverts were placed but
only a few jokers phoning up with silly offers of around £500.
For that kind of money all I could buy in good nick was an MZ.
No thanks. Autumn, winter and spring. The bike running as well
as ever but the cosmetics deteriorating fast. Rat bike status
was soon attained. I dressed in gunge style and wore shades as
a disguise.
As soon as the sun started to
shine brightly the bottom end began to knock. If ever a motorcycle
came close to rap this was it. Its tune was one of imminent demise
and I began to wish I'd taken those £500 offers seriously.
I should've taken it right down and rebuilt the whole thing from
the ground up. It wasn't the kind of machine to inspire that sort
of affection. Instead, I carried on riding, using a mild hand
on the throttle. The bike lasted for 900 miles before it seized
up solid.
Seized up just as I was scurrying
across a major junction. You wouldn't believe the ensuing chaos.
Three cars ended up embedded in each other and the cagers went
into screaming fits. I was sorely tempted to do a runner, just
leave the old heap there as a monument to crap Japanese engineering
and my own neglect. In the end, I waited for the cops and usual
verbal battering.
In conclusion, the GSX400F's a
pretty good bike to ride but it's hard to find one in nice mechanical
condition. Even one that's shined up may quickly turn into a rust
bucket; even one that seems to run fine may soon end up going
knock-knock. On examination, half the sixteen valves were in a
sad state, all four pistons and bores were wrecked and the crankshaft
was in a bad way. All was not lost, I cleaned up the chassis and
fitted the GN400 engine (no-one else would buy it, so only £75).
Better than an MZ!
Dave Lynch
****************************************************
My GS550 was stolen by some rotter
who should be boiled in oil, and I had to find a replacement quick.
The local paper fell through the door just as I was getting desperate.
A GSX400F for £600. Had a quick glance at the Used Guide
- not too encouraging, probably up for sale because the crank
was on the way out. Still, I had nothing to lose except my time,
of which I had plenty to spare.
Turned out to look not half bad.
Bugger me, if the little four didn't shoot up the road faster
than the old GS550. Yes, it had the bigger sump fitted and, no,
the owner had never had any mechanical problems in two years and
9000 miles. The clock read 33000 miles. The low price was down
to the need for new consumables and an imminent MOT. No offers.
I paid a deposit, sorted the insurance
and rushed back there the next day. Only to be informed that I
was lucky I'd turned up early as someone else had offered £850
and was threatening to come back with the money that afternoon.
I almost asked for his phone number, so I could sell on at a profit.
The MOT proved a big hurdle, even
after fitting new consumables, as the fork seals, swinging arm
bearings and exhaust were all too shot to pass. The swinging arm
spindle ended up bent after I'd removed it. No grease, corroded
in. It was then that I found chassis bits for GSX400F's are rare
in breakers. A new spindle was unthinkable. I finally found a
breaker with a box of old spindles with one that was a little
longer but the same diameter, for a fiver. The exhaust was welded
and a used front end fitted after I found a couple of tiny cracks
in the front hub! MOT granted.
The electrics were completely
nonstandard and the wiring bodged, but it all seemed to work okay
so I wasn't going to rip it apart and start again. This didn't
stop me getting annoyed with the front headlamp, only useful for
moped speeds. I thought I'd fit a seven inch shell and reflector
I had in the garage, a nice 80 watt job. None of the connectors
matched and the new shell didn't really have room for all of the
old wiring but I managed to slap it all together.
Two problems resulted. Firstly,
some of the connectors kept popping out, either fusing the whole
system or causing various things not to work. Sorted with the
soldering gun and roll of insulation tape. Secondly, the power
of the headlamp overtaxed the generator output. The battery slowly
ran down during night riding until the lamp flickered and the
engine stuttered. I had to change the reflector for a less powerful
one, still an improvement on the stocker but dangerous above 30mph
on unlit country roads.
Compared to the 550, the smaller
four was surprisingly snappy. Thanks to its much lower mass (around
400lbs), it accelerated vehemently and could be thrown around
town traffic like a 250. My commuting times, over a ten mile run,
improved by about five minutes. Fuel was better at 65mpg compared
to 55mpg.
My only worry, keeping an eye
on the oil level which could disappear with worrying rapidity.
A daily top up needed! I talked to another GSX400F owner who reckoned
the heavy oil consumption was perfectly normal and that it was
best to change it every 500-600 miles. He used a very expensive
synthetic lube, but in the end I decided that it wasn't worth
it - I topped it up with recycled 20/50 from the local auto-shop
and reckoned every other week it had been completely replenished.
I did the oil and filter every 3000 miles.
I took one look at the sixteen
valves, decided it was all too complex for me. Leave well alone
as long as it was running okay. The same went for the carbs. The
ignition was electronic and the camchain tensioner automatic.
By far my biggest maintenance
chores were the chain and front discs (not stock GSX400F's). The
latter had a seizure every time wet weather was encountered. I
sprayed the calipers with WD40 (probably not recommended but it
worked!) which reduced strip-downs to about once a month...at
least the calipers came apart easily.
As to the chain, it was a combination
of a tiny engine sprocket and a swinging arm mount placed without
much thought for the chain's movement. Or maybe it was just the
ancient bit of chain and shagged sprockets. Or the way every time
I did up the wheel spindle the back wheel moved out of line! Or
a combination of all these.
Chain maintenance was a daily
affair, and every month I had to take a link out (about 1000 miles
per month). Whatever chain spray I used the result was identical,
a back end (and if present, pillion) covered in lube and a rusty
old chain! After about four months I did actually fit a new chain
but it started going the same way within weeks.
It was just one of those things
you learn to live with. To its credit, the relatively mild and
smooth flow of power meant the chain never actually snapped. With
old bikes like this you have to grab the good points with both
hands! Although there were some undeniable hassles in riding the
bike all year round, it was never less than fun from the saddle.
More than anything else, the bike
fitted my small frame perfectly and the seat was exemplary in
the support and comfort it offered as my body was perched nicely
by the moderate riding position. I could happily sit on the bike
all day long at 90mph. A speed at which the mill became miraculously
smooth and could scoot along without any effort on the throttle
or gearbox.
Whilst that made the bike capable
on the motorway, there wasn't much more easy power in hand, needed
some fast footwork on the gearbox and throttle to get her past
the ton. Ridden thus, 120mph wasn't beyond the realms of possibility,
though usually it ran out of puff at 110mph. However, once above
90mph fuel dived to a traumatic 35mpg (from 50mpg at 90mph) and
oil consumption was at mythical levels. Short bursts of speed
only, then!
Much to my delight, and not a
little amazement given the reputation of this engine, the bike
ran for 14 months and nearly 15000 miles before anything serious
went wrong. It would doubtless have done more if I'd attended
to the top end. Coming back from a nice weekend at the BMF rally,
after really caning the bike to see off a couple of middleweights,
loads of grey smoke started pouring out of the exhaust. I pulled
over, some nasty tapping coming from the cylinder head. I thought,
sod it, ride home, see if it will get me there.
Twenty miles later, as I proudly
pulled up at my house, I looked down to see that the engine had
blown all its gaskets - smoke and oil pouring out of it. I'd wondered
why top speed was down to 45mph - it'd only been running on two
cylinders. All the heat coming off the alloy was like a blast-furnace
going out of control. I wondered if the tapping or knocking noises
were the louder!
The next morning I checked it
over. All the oil was gone and the engine actually looked warped!
Out of interest I took it apart. Maybe, just maybe, most of the
gearbox was okay but the rest of it wouldn't even be accepted
by a scrappy. I hadn't destroyed my engine so I could write an
interesting story for the UMG, it was just that I'd let the bike
fall into total neglect and couldn't be bothered any more. Despite
its excellent performance a shadow always hung over the bike;
its reputation overwhelming the reality of its riding.
I reckon I'd even had pretty good
value out of it. Also, my insurance had finally coughed up a grand
for the GS550, after months of argument, and I'd bought a much
modded GS750. According to the owner, this just needed a little
finishing, but it took me a good two months to get all the missing
bits together. Much lighter than stock, with later suspension
and a mildly tuned motor, this turned out to be the business,
coming on stream just after the 400 went down. Good timing for
once.
The GSX spent about four months
in the garage until I talked a neighbour into giving me £250
for it. He then spent a month combining three broken engines to
make one good one. Total cost £400, so not bad value. Only
thing was, all the different parts, which had worn at different
rates, didn't fit at all well together. A mere 95mph top speed,
loads of secondary vibes plus wicked oil and fuel consumption.
None of that stopped him riding around for five months and then
selling on at £650!
It's this kind of madness you
have to look out for if you're in the market for a 400. They ain't
like other Suzuki fours, they have usually been rebuilt a couple
of times and just don't have the basic toughness of the larger
fours. Good ones do run rather well, as good as the 550 - better,
if you use them mostly in town. Given this, they are worth buying
for £400 to £750 but any more than that's asking to
be ripped off. I even saw one in a dealers for £150O. That's
just silly.
Mark Jones