Sometimes it's necessary to rock
and roll, so to speak, on the open highway. Getting speed out
of the Z750 was hard work, the engine less than enthralled with
the idea of revving beyond eight grand. The riding position was
good for no more than 75mph, before arm and thigh pains tried
to age me prematurely. I was already going bald from wearing a
crash-helmet and didn't fancy ending up hunch-backed from the
contortions necessary to hold the reluctant Z750 at speed.
These days, the 1985 machine would
be classed as a retro, an excuse for only developing 70 horses
and nearly weighing 500lbs. But as an old hack there was no way
I was going to accept such alibis for mediocrity and when the
need arose it was head between the clocks, hands left high up
in the air.
Something had to give. One time
it was the chassis. Foolishly, I'd assumed that with just 11000
miles done there would be some life in the OE suspension. It was
a nice cushy ride up to 70mph, not as compliant, perhaps, as my
old BMW boxer but cool for anyone with a dodgy back (the cure
for which, you might like to know, is to buy a device that swings
you upside down and relieves the effect of gravity on your spine).
However, I wound the bike up to
110mph (on a very long stretch of motorway), held that speed for
a half a mile, a bit worried by the way the back wheel skated
around and thinking about, maybe, backing off to a more moderate
speed. A thought intensified by my hands going numb from the secondary
vibes - I've ridden 1100's that were smoother.
Then the weave took over the whole
bike until it suddenly became a massive three lane wobble. God
knows what the following cagers thought. My brain went as blank
and empty as a DR's after a ten hour day in the capital (something
I could also write about), then the animal in me took over, decided
if we were going to come off it would be better at low speed.
Hence I found my muscles straining at the brakes...and the bars
as they threshed about. Only when 70mph was on the clock did the
wobbles subside.
Pulling over to the hard shoulder,
to check the state of the chassis as it felt like a few vital
bolts had fallen out, I found my whole body was bathed in an excess
of sweat; for a moment I thought I'd pissed myself! The chassis
was, in fact, intact and the wobbles all the way home were resultant
from my own shaking rather than any further degeneration in the
frame.
As well as the possibilities of
being thrown off at high speed, there was also the time the motor
nipped up. Not being entirely stupid I'd done a bit to the chassis,
S and W shocks plus fork brace and set of Michelins. Thus encouraged
I'd thrashed the Kawasaki up to an incredible 120mph (well, it
felt pretty incredible).
The vibes were hard going but
I ignored them as I was trying to burn off a Z650. I had my hand
over the clutch just in case, which was just as well. Ever had
a back wheel lock up at 120mph? Don't envy me, it's not an experience
that I want to repeat. For the few moments it took for my left
hand to react, I had the back end doing a massive fish-tail feeling
like the wheel was going to swing right round and send me charging
into the traffic behind.
The Z650 rider disappeared off
into the distance, doubtless laughing his head off at the sight
of me throwing up on the hard shoulder. I let the motor cool for
half an hour, prayed a little and hit the starter. She'd loosened
off and I could rattle home at an appropriately slow pace. Most
Kawasaki's fours of this type sport an oil cooler, the lack thereof
perhaps explaining the seizure.
Actually, no real damage appeared
to be done, the motor soon settled down to its usual mixture of
lack of low rev torque and disinclination to rev into the red.
The weirdness of this combination, where, for instance, the Z650
had a lot more zap, made most rides pretty boring. After nearly
being thrown off and almost wrecking the engine, I vowed to take
it easy, live within the means of the machine rather than trying
to push it, all the time, to its extremes.
As boring as this undoubtedly
was, the daily grind into work was easily accomplished, leaving
behind trails of brain dead motorists who could only gasp in envy
at the svelte form of the Z and I. At least that's what I think
the horn work and gesticulations were all about. The exhaust was
degutted in the tradition of all young hoodlums and I could graduate
top of the school if ever there was an exam on the arcane art
of knocking mirrors off cages!
The relaxed riding position made
it easy to swing around errant cagers and I thought the brakes
were quite efficient. The front could shake the forks and the
rear would send us into a controllable low speed skid - scared
the hell out of pedestrians trying to hop over crossings. In 12000
miles I had no problems from the calipers, although I have to
admit to doing little riding in the winter - too much ice on the
roads and in my veins. And the Kawasaki's finish would've done
a rapid runner. I had to spend quite a bit of time cleaning her
up even in the summer, but it was better than lolling in front
of the TV.
Another incident that the Z turned
up was misfiring in heavy rain; given English weather an all too
common occurrence. WD40 didn't have much of an effect. These kind
of Kawasakis suffer from coil and ignition module problems but
the solution in this particular case was very simple. The front
mudguard's a pathetic thing that actually concentrates the water
on the engine. Replacing it cleared up the cutting out. I could've
spend a small fortune on coils and ignition components trying
to solve it.
Great fun was had trying to change
the tyres. Something about the rims made it incredibly difficult
to get the rubber back on. I was practically standing on the tyre
lever... when it slipped, I went straight down and whacked my
shin on the rim. It was so bad I went howling around to the doctor
who sent me away with a mouthing off for wasting his time. Coming
back to the scene of the carnage I found that bouncing the wheel
on the floor had cracked the disc. The screams could be heard
several blocks away.
Fuel was pathetic, around 40mpg,
tyres lasted 8000 miles and pads about half that (I was fierce
on the brakes). For a 150mph race replica those figures might've
added up, for something that often had trouble staying ahead of
a mate's GS500E it was just adding insult to injury, especially
as there was no improvement when I went into Easy Rider mode.
Not that it really mattered in
the end. As boring and bland as the performance was, the Z750
looked nice and retro, was easily sold for a profit after eighteen
months. I did what I should've done first time round - bought
a GPz750. For the first time in many months I sported a large
grin, had an excess of adrenaline running through my body and
could burn off most of my mates. Unless you want to pose, stay
with the serious motorcycles.
Alan Hughes