I bought this rat GS550. Covered in grime and corrosion. The engine dripped
a murky substance that long ago might've been oil. All the chassis bearings
were loose. The mileage was unknown, the clocks long disconnected. Beneath
the decay, the classic silhouette shone through. Sort of! Of all the UJM's
the GS550 has emerged as a classic. Good ones both rare and expensive. For
two hundred quid I wasn't going to complain, was I?
Amazingly, the engine gave every impression of running fine. I rode the
bike home. The disc brakes were diabolical and steering precision an unknown
concept. Two cans of Gunk and three jet-washes later I could see the extent
of the damage. The oil leaks sorted by tightening down the head bolts. Simple
as that. The chassis needing stripping right down, the engine and frame
left standing on a couple of old boxes. Rust had attacked the frame but
was sorted with a wire-brush and Hammerite.
The front end was such a disgusting mess that I couldn't find one component
worth saving. As it was a classic bike, the TLS drum Norton 750 Commando
front end was an obvious choice. Well, it'd been hanging around my garage
for decades looking for a suitable home (the rest of the heap had disintegrated!).
It fitted on as well as a diminutive Oriental man would into a massive Negro
mama but these things are sent to try us.
The swinging arm disintegrated when attacked with my favourite hammer.
Rust had gone that deep! The original shocks were in a pathetic state, would
be rejected for use in a pram. Ringing around the breakers found an early
GS550 back end for ten notes. The wheel's rim was far gone on rust so I
had it rebuilt to match the alloy rim on the Norton front end. New chassis
bearings all round, new cables, used tyres, secondhand Girling shocks and
a pair of universal silencers finished off the basic rebuild. It was then
I realised I had to do a complete electrical rebuild as well! Praise be
to Superdream rectifiers!
The MOT was the usual five minute, back street affair. The open road
beckoned. The engine had probably gone around the clock. Even new, its 55
horses weren't going to set the world alight when it had to push nearly
500lbs of well made metal. Oddly, the chain and sprocket set were newish,
the engine cog having 16 teeth rather than the standard 15. The taller gearing
added to the stately feel of the acceleration. Settled down to a 100mph
cruising stance. A deep, resonant bellow from the non-standard silencers.
If there wasn't a sudden outpouring of power neither were there any huge
holes in the delivery. It just wound itself up slowly, almost at a pace
independent of the rate of right hand work. Handling was close to excellent.
An exceedingly safe bike to ride. Both at town speeds and on the open highway.
Go into a corner too fast, simply close the throttle to make the bike tighten
up its line. Only an idiot would fall off one...
That's what I thought until the world went upside-down. I still don't
know why the bike spun off the road in a bumpy 50mph bend. One moment I
was cool and laid back, sporting the usual big grin. The next, the bike
lost both tyres at the same time and I was fighting the tarmac. Of course,
I lost! The only good thing, bike and I parted company in different directions.
Having 500lbs of metal flattening me into the ground doesn't bear thinking
about!
Damage to self was the usual scraped knees and bruised elbows. Full leathers
and body armour would've saved me. But who wants to look like a plonker
when wandering around town? The GS had scraped cases, bent gear and clutch
levers, and put a couple of knocks in the newly painted petrol tank. On
close examination, the paper-thin tank actually had holes in it! The rusty
petrol seeping out.
There was a great temptation to put a match in the tank and have finished
with it... a few moments of reflection changed my mind. Decent GS's were
rare on the ground. I pushed the bike a mile and a half to the nearest town.
Bought some chewing gum and blocked up the holes in the petrol tank! That
got me home. GS tanks rust from the inside out. Breakers just laughed when
I phoned them up.
Noddy was consulted. A weird character with hair down to his arse and
ruined skin. Some kind of sixties hippy survivor. He was well handy with
the welding torch, though. The time he destroyed a metal edifice in the
town centre, writ deep in local history. The plod were still after him for
it! Anyway, he knocked out the thinner bits of tank, bunged in some metal
plate and welded the whole thing up. A bit of work with the metal grinder
and a few coats of paint, it was looking like new. Well, newish. Okay, from
a hundred yards away it looked passable. Sod it, it kept the petrol where
it was meant to be!
Top speed was 110mph, fuel 60mpg, consumable wear wasn't really discernible
and maintenance didn't come into it. Er? Well, it ate the lubricant at the
rate of a pint every 90 miles, which meant I just kept topping it up rather
than changing it. Electronic ignition and automatic camchain tensioner took
care of those chores. The carbs never needed attention. Neither did the
valves, though the latter was due to my reluctance to take a look at them.
I could see why they were popular as cheap hacks, they cost sod all to run.
With the exception of the awful stock disc brakes which I'd replaced with
good old drums.
With so much mass, the front TLS Norton drum wasn't exactly on the ball.
A couple of high speed stops had it fading away but I've been around long
enough to look where I'm going. Luckily, desperate braking, as in emergency
stops, always pulled the Suzuki up in time. Engine braking was pretty good.
On open road runs I often didn't need the brakes at all, just used the throttle
and gearbox. The bike's useful cornering abilities gave the brakes an easy
time.
With Avon tyres, progressive brakes and mild power output, the GS was
also a very useful tool in wet weather. I felt pretty confident at high
speeds. The bike having a tenacious feel on the awash roads. Despite running
stock HT leads and ancient plugs it never lost its beat even in the nastiest
of downpours. Contrast that with a mate's Honda CB750F1 which often ended
up as a twin in the wet. The Honda was, in the dry, a much harsher bike
that killed the GS dead in no uncertain terms. Some consolation was the
Honda's need for 20,000 mile rebuilds. Whereas the Suzuki just kept whirring
away resolutely.
On one long ride, I was amazed at how fresh I felt. The riding position
was good, vibration non-existent and the engine would hold a high speed
velocity without any effort. Remorseless was the best description. My friends
on replicas were amazed at the old four's staying power. They had to keep
stopping for fuel and muscle revival sessions, whereas I just kept rolling
on and on!
One time, 35 miles from home the bike went dead. As in all the electrics
going. The battery was actually warped with the excessive voltages. Something
had gone wrong with the alternator which in turn had taken out the rectifier.
I don't know if it was fortunate or not, but I was in the company of the
F1 owner. He grinned widely, produced a few yards of rope with all the aplomb
of a second rate magician. There followed a crazed ride in which I tried
to go around corners whilst tied to a hugely wobbling F1. The stress was
such that his gearbox output bearing was shot by the time we got back home! I was a mess of shaking hands and rotating eyeballs!
The GS550 needed a new alternator and another complete electrical rebuild.
Even after all this effort, lights, horns and indicators maintained their
pathetic lack of intensity. The battery's brackets managed to snap off,
attacked by the usual relentless corrosion. A couple of bungee cords and
an old inner-tube did the business.
After that effort it was back to the usual relentless running. I managed
to buy a Katana tank, saddle and panels from a bike that had finally expired
at a claimed 230,000 miles! The shark-like appearance and bright red paint
had the civilians gawping in the expectation of massive wheelies and take-off
speeds but the GS didn't respond. Relentless and remorseless but not wild!
Steve Davidson