Power Play: Blades and Bimotas

It all began quite innocently, I passed my test in 1992 and bought a two year old ZZR600. It seemed mind-bendingly fast to me and I couldn't really imagine needing anything more. I was bloody dangerous in the first few months, I had no idea how to ride a proper bike or what I should do to maintain it.

I remember thrashing past Newmarket services one day, banked well over (or it seemed that way at the time) with my chain so loose it was almost dragging on the ground. The chain snapped twenty miles later, as I pulled away from a set of lights - it could all have ended then.

Then I went through a phase racing despatch riders around London, I would show them what pussies they were, I thought. I realised the error of this game on my way to Lewisham A&E. You see I really thought I knew it all and that I was the fastest guy out there - I soon learned.

In 1994 one of the blokes at work (we'll call him TJ for the sake of anonymity) bought a Fireblade and I challenged him to a race. Logically I knew the Blade would be faster but I couldn't imagine anything better than my super-Kwak. Needless to say the Blade destroyed me, I just couldn't believe how that thing leapt away from me. I was not entirely shamed, I gave him a hard battle on the back roads but the damage was done, my beloved Kawasaki was no good any more, I needed something extra - desperately.

1st March 1995 I took delivery of my new Fireblade, as soon as it was run in it was dynojetted and a suitably loud Micron can fitted, this was more like it. TJ had hit hard times and his Blade had been sold and replaced with a 1980 Laverda Jota so I was the king again, back in my rightful place.

The Jota was thrashing the CBX1000 that I was also running at the time but I didn't care because my Blade was king. Manic speeding was becoming a way of life, I had a rule that if I didn't see 165 on the speedo I couldn't go home yet but I was only really happy with 170.

The Blade cost me a fortune to run, it had the best of everything; platinum plugs, steel braided brake hosing, Mobil 1, Slick 50 etc. etc., and it ate tyres and chains at an alarming rate, although the latter was probably due to lack of proper maintenance rather than anything else. I didn't care, though, I was having fun.

At the 1996 NEC show another one of my mates (BS) ordered a Triumph T595. I was very worried, the T595 was supposed to kick out 128bhp and he was already talking about a high race pipe!! I had to do something, my poor old Blade wouldn't be able to compete with that, but what should I buy? Japan wasn't producing anything with enough power to beat the T595 in the style I wanted, except the heavyweight bikes like the Blackbird or ZZR1100. I needed to be imaginative to stay ahead this time.

1st March 1997 saw the delivery of, not only, BS's T595 but also my new Bimota SB6. I had finally lost my mind and had paid 14,500 notes for a completely impractical bike just to stay the fastest chap on the block. The first month of ownership was manic with well over two thousand miles of running in and racing. I was determined to prove the value of my investment and would go to any lengths to do it.

The Bim's supremacy was undeniable, as soon as the power was unleashed it pulled out a length and would then gradually extend its lead right up to the devastating top speed that the (typical) Italian speedo read as only 140mph. Where the conditions prohibited the use of its extreme power the race would just be a contest as to who had the bigger balls.

I remember riding up the A12 from London to Ipswich during the rush hour one night during that March, it was dark and we were both wearing black visors but I was still determined to win. We were filtering through the queues of traffic and I was raising the speed with every car I passed seeing how fast the BS would go to keep up.

Soon it all became a blur of red tail-lights as we ripped through the line of almost pedestrian traffic at 120mph, the T595 welded to the back of the Bim. It soon became apparent that he wasn't going to give up and that if I allowed the red mist to continue in control much longer it would almost certainly end in death.

We pulled over to a pub for a few pints with hands shaking, pulses racing and grins normally only used by the insane. As I remember, we didn't dare go inside for a while in case any enraged car drivers pulled over to take vengeance on the bikes.

TJ had been out of contention for some time now and could no longer resist the fun of powerful bike ownership but still lacked the funds to buy a new state of the art toy. His choice was a 1991 GSXR1100M. I was not worried, it had an old version of the engine my bike used and was much heavier. I rode it and was certain that the Bim would have no problems.

However his plans were not complete, the GSXR went to V & M racing in Rochdale for a few weeks and returned as a GSXR1216, complete with high compression pistons and a whole bag of other goodies. This was a potential problem but I still wasn't too worried, how could a nine-year-old bike challenge my Italian stallion? Just to be sure I had race baffles fitted and a dynojet kit which gave me an extra 9bhp at the back wheel.

Once the GSXR returned and was run in we went off to find out how quick it was. TJ was raving about it, but remember he hadn't ridden anything too hot for years so I paid no attention. He faced the T595 first, while I followed behind taking notes. There was no contest, the old Suzook was away with one angry roar from its tiny Vance and Hines can, leaving the Trumpet reeling in its wake.

My turn next, I rolled up alongside at about sixty and poked TJ on the shoulder, making hand signals which clearly said 'come on if you think you're hard enough.' We passed the marker and I launched the Bimota with absolutely no mechanical sympathy whatsoever, raping it for every once of power it had, but all to no avail, that old Suzuki was furiously fast and pulled away from me comfortably. This was intolerable, I was being beaten by a bike that cost one third of mine. Obviously it was a very different story on back roads but that wasn't good enough.

Soon the maltreatment of my Bim in those races started to take its toll, despite the fact that it had only 3000 miles on the clock and had never done a wheelie (not my game - it slows you down too much) the clutch could not stand the abuse. Every time I gave it a severe thrashing air got into the fluid and it soon became impossible to engage the clutch.

I took the bike back to Galleria D'Italia who were formally the importers and a modification was carried out. When this failed to cure the problem I was told I was riding it too hard and that they had contacted Bimota who had never been aware of another similar case. Although I was proud to hear that I was thrashing my Bim more than any other owner this was little consolation when I had to bump start my bike at every set of traffic lights I encountered.

I was back to square one again, I had been number one but the stakes had been raised again. The Bimota was becoming increasingly annoying with the clutch problems being complemented by batteries, which refused to hold a charge and an alarm system that would often refuse to turn off. Once again I had to look for an alternative.

1998 brought a crop of new sports bikes, which promised to deliver new levels of performance. The Yamaha R1 was sadly too small and uncomfortable for me to contemplate so I took test rides on the ZX9R and the new Fireblade. I have to confess that both bikes tested were treated appallingly, I had not realised before how much pleasure could be derived from ruining perfectly good rear tyres just to make a bit of smoke.

If the dealers in question read this they will undoubtedly suss who I am - sorry about your tyres, chaps. The new Blade felt utterly sackless after the Bimota and the ZX9R, it was difficult to imagine how I had been excited about an older and weaker model only a few years earlier, so once again I became the proud owner of a Kawasaki (after taking 8,500 notes depreciation on the Bim in one year!).

The new Kwacker was even faster than the Bim but was soon treated to a Harris race exhaust, whose baffle I unpacked completely, and a dynojet kit, which transformed it. While out racing with a mate on a Thundercat - not much competition I know but it was all I had - I saw a speedo reading of just over 180mph for the first time in my riding career (and there was a little bit of power left!).

Fortunately I stopped to tell him about it because over the very next brow was a police patrol car, I shudder to think what he would have made of my speed, especially since this was a single carriageway.

Meanwhile TJ had become very worried for his crown, knowing full well the reason for my purchase. The GSXR has been stripped to the bone, the grab handle, rear pegs, steering damper and even the side stand all removed to reduce weight, he now has to lean it against walls when he stops (how sad is that!). The result is a stalemate, there is no separating the bikes on acceleration although I certainly have the edge on top speed.

I think he enjoys the acceleration tests more than me now as the ZX9R bucks and shakes its head all the way to 130mph and does have a slight tendency towards very alarming tank slappers if opened up on rough surfaces.

I have been forced to retire from motorcycling now, my six years has left me virtually penniless, a numb left knee which will never heal, a warped mind and a driving licence with 12 points and a warning from the courts that once more and I will be banned.

I suppose I should be happy I can still walk. I now seek refuge in a speedboat, the water is the last hiding place for speed freaks - there are no speed limits and no police (lovely). Still the points will be gone in a couple of years - and the GSXR1300 should be out by then. Hmmm.

I remember reading an article on buying FZR1000s secondhand many years ago that said you need not worry about them having been thrashed because they are too fast. Don't you believe it, every bike I have had has been thrashed unmercifully, has eaten tyres and chains and ended up with the twist grip twisted in knots where I have tried to squeeze out more power. You can certainly thrash any bike but don't blame me for the consequences.

Jerry Irving

British Twins: The Dead Rise!

No-one else makes vertical twins the British way. Yamaha, perhaps, came closest with their XS650 and both Laverda and Benelli gave the dice a throw, but all three big twins lost the point with their excess of mass. The Japanese make modern vertical twins but don't put much effort into them, the GPZ500S and TDM850 the only ones that come close to being interesting. But British twins are as intrinsic to this country as some resolute old dowager, and just as firm in their constitution.

Take two big flywheels, a couple of puny bearings, hang off a pair of con-rods and the biggest pistons you can get away with. Keep everything as simple and cheap as possible - pushrods, chain primary drive and a minimal amount of metal in every possible component. British designers grew up on postwar days of steel rationing and never quite got over the shock!

The result of these machinations, a 650cc twin weighing 350-400lbs, capable of putting 110mph on the clock and flying through the bends. Some were better than others. Norton had the best frame in their Featherbed design. Triumph had the strongest and least vibratory engine. BSA's handled better than Triumphs, were less vibratory than Nortons. Royal Enfield were more advanced than anyone but that didn't stop them gushing oil. AJS and Ariel never really made the grade but time has been kind to their status, rareness working wonders on their credibility. In fact, most of these bikes are so old and so modified along the way that it's impossible to be definitive about which is currently the best engine available. Even standard looking bikes can hide much modified motors.

Some things never change. Triumph Speed Twins, for instance, however well put together the chassis, however new the bearings and however modded the suspension, still behave like buckling bronco's in tight, bumpy bends at anything remotely approaching a decent turn of speed. Featherbed 650 Nortons, even with upgraded, balanced cranks, rubber belt primary drives and meticulously assembled engines still vibrate like primeval old dogs above 6000 revs. And BSA engines turn as finicky as a three-legged dog if you tune them beyond certain limits.

On the other hand, there are any number of well put together, upgraded British twins out there that are very fine riding devices. As long as you stay within the definition of sane motorcycling - rarely going above 90mph, with an 80mph maximum cruising speed; gentle on the controls at all times. Out of that you get plenty of cheap kicks, reasonable reliability and a bike that goes up in value the longer you own it. This is the kind of trip you want to get into if your licence is nearly dead and you've had your fill of Japanese hyperbike thrills.

In the beginning, more or less, there was the Triumph 500 5T of 1946 vintage, aka the Speed Twin. The infamous Sprung Hub back end gave this bike the characteristics of riding a camel whilst the engine vibrated furiously away. Its adherents main claim for validity, except for its external lines, are that all the elements of motorcycling are rendered miraculously direct - that is you feel every road bump, and every ounce of effort in turning petrol into forward motion. Those owners with any teeth left have usually ground them down to the stumps! These are serious classic bikes - the definitive engineering for a whole breed of subsequent Triumphs, not to mention a vast array of imitators; therefore seriously expensive. Two and a half thousand notes might just get you in the game for one of the later examples.

Look for oil tightness, relative smoothness below five grand (you'll need to try a few examples to see what I mean), lack of exhaust fumes plus a quiet engine. Well built examples don't leak much oil and have a very gentle tickover. Hopefully, you'll find one with all the usual engine upgrades, plus some modern drum brakes!

The 350cc version's so mild as to be dangerous on modern roads but some people revel in the relative lack of vibration. The 650cc 6T likes to break chassis parts when revved out fully, but few owners subject their pride and joy's to such outlandish abuse. All of these old Triumphs are limited by a lack of practicality - unless you're the kind of old codger who enjoys roadside intervals to fix minor problems (and many old Brit riders are!) - and their classic bike status.

Another curious old Triumph of that era, the antique sidevalve TRW. This was the mother of all old sluggers; hardly any power, mediocre frugality and some strange handling on anything other than smooth roads. What it had going for it was an extreme simplicity and a certain ruggedness, the kind of bike that could be bodged around the clock a few times. Of course, time has also been kind to its looks and it's more likely to stop traffic than some modern hyperbike. You can still find something useful, if sensibly modded, for around the grand mark.

Move on a few years, some more interesting Triumphs emerge. Though they didn't really fix the frame until the mid-sixties, towards the end of the fifties something like a 500cc T100 Tiger had a useful blend of power, practicality and just plain good old kicks. Arguably, the singled carb 500cc Triumph twin is the best of the bunch. For sure, its 30 horses lost out to the more powerful 650's but practical cruising speeds were actually very similar due to the bigger bike's excessive generation of vibes. Well rebuilt, at around the three thousand note mark they offer a lot that is best about old style British motorcycle riding.

The purists still deride the change from pre-unit to unit construction, arguments for and against on both sides. What's far more important, these days, is the actual state of the motor and the unit construction bikes certainly have a better reputation for longevity when used in anger.

The most infamous of this bunch, the T120 Bonneville, though it had a couple of years in pre-unit construction format before the real thing emerged in the early sixties. A marvellous line in style, enough power to put 120mph on the clock on a good day and the best reliability of this era of British twins. Vibratory, leaking oil and prone to bearing and valve-gear failure when used to the full, most of these hassles sorted with a bit of modern re-engineering.

A good Bonnie, as opposed to a bad one, is an almost lyrical experience - once you get used to the vibration and queasy handling on the early models. I'd go for a 1967/8 model, that had the chassis as well sorted as it was going to get, had reasonable brakes and suspension, as well as being the toughest of the bunch. Dealers want five grand for such a bike, but the private market will turn up a marvellous one for 3500-4000 quid.

As with many Triumph motors, they can keep running with an awful lot of internal wear. It's not unknown for someone to whip the head off when investigating a minor problem to find out the whole engine's in need of replacement. The good engines are discernible in their relative lack of vibration, noise and oil leaks but you have to be a bit of an expert to suss the good from the bad.

Another nice sample of Triumph engineering from the sixties, the T100SS, had all the qualities of the earlier 500cc Tigers, better build quality, slightly more power and better economy. In the kind of typical riding that British bikes are subjected to, the T100SS is more useful than the bigger twins and a generally fine tool. Though prices aren't bargain basement, it's still possible to pick up something useful for around the two grand mark.

One of Triumph's greatest mistakes was to push their venerable vertical engine to 750cc; at least they didn't tweak the power in the same way that Norton did. Prices of the 750's have surged ahead over the last year for no sane reason, nostalgia being a strange and wonderful thing. Added to its extra capacity, the factory often churned out Friday afternoon specials, poorly fitted if not engineered components adding to the chaos.

Most of the nastiness should've been sorted by now, plenty have been completely re-engineered using better quality modern materials. Vibration is impossible to eradicate, though, especially on the twin carb engines - so that makes a late T140 Tiger the best bet as it also had the lowered saddle height version of the oil-in-the-frame chassis (which was also less susceptible to cracking up). The rougher ones go for under two grand.

Nortons never quite matched the ease of style of the Triumphs. The Wideline Featherbed frame limited the way the tank and saddle could be moulded into an object of desire, though the lines of the engine were arguably more attractive. The motor that was to go on to infamy in the Commando series, had its roots in the Model 7, something of a vintage relic left over from the war that in no way presages the Featherbed's excellence of handling. View the Model 7 as a decent enough old plodder and it wasn't half bad but in no way up to dealing with postwar 500cc Triumphs.

Norton' solution, in 1952, was a brand new rolling chassis, the infamous Wideline Featherbed frame at its centre, but it also benefited from Norton's race track success with regards to suspension and steering geometry. The 88 Dominator admittedly suffered from vibration, even at such a minimal capacity, so much so that it could crack up early model frames.

It wasn't until the 1960 Norton 88SS Dominator that the design really peaked, blending a 36hp 500cc mill with the Slimline chassis, Roadholder forks and the best styling that the Featherbed series was to attain. A much more manly device than the Triumph Daytona, it could crack the ton without much effort and steered with unheard of precision and fidelity that if you overlook the lack of suspension travel is on the pace with the more mundane Jap middleweights of the nineties. Three grand up for anything remotely decent, but at that price it should have all the engine mod's going, making it even better than stock.

Equally of note, the 650SS took the Norton engine as far as it really ever wanted to go, could keep pace with the Bonnevilles of the day and was almost the perfect embodiment of the British twin... save for the way it could vibrate madly when used harshly. An extra grand's needed over the 500 and it may not be money well spent but there are plenty of engines that have been totally sorted.

It's best to avoid the 750 Atlas and probably all 750 Commando's. I say probably because there's the odd one that has been detuned and upgraded that makes a remarkably useful road tool. You have to be pretty quick off the mark to find them, though. No, better to go for the 850's, in as mildest a form as you can find, the later the better - post '75 Mark 3's in particular, although many engines have been upgraded to superior spec. Three to four grand, please.

BSA twins were somewhere between the Nortons and Triumphs, eventually becoming passe when the latter actually managed to make their motorcycles handle in a reasonable manner. The pre-unit series the defining BSA's, the 650cc A10 the bike of particular note. Its major weak spot, puny main bearings, all but eradicated by the pervasiveness of the SRM roller bearing conversion.

Most A10 motors are now well sorted, smoother than the Triumphs but something of a plodder rather than anything to set the blood aglow. Try to avoid the early ones, the chassis not up to much - the duplex frame version with twin shocks is the only model up to the nastiness of modern roads and even then it isn't safe at speed unless sporting the TLS front wheel conversion. There are still usable examples on the private market available for less than two grand.

The A7 isn't a bad motorcycle, just a tediously slow one. Unlike the A10, the better version's the A7SS, which at least had enough blood and guts to stop the rider falling asleep, more of a revver than the harsher 650. It's a better buy than the later A50, which had to carry too much mass, although it could last for a long time. One of the milder unit construction A65's is closer to the mark, something like a Thunderbolt with the obligatory SRM crank conversion. Plenty of well sorted examples of all three models for less than two grand, making them something of a bargain buy in British vertical twin circles.

Whilst Triumph, Norton and BSA were dominating the sales charts and the roads, Royal Enfield were trying to bring some relatively modern engineering to the genre, though they were never to master the art of correct engine breather placement, often derisively described as Royal Oilfields. Even in 1950, their 500 twin had the gearbox bolted to the back of the engine and the sump cast into the bottom of the motor (though it still circulated oil as if it was a dry-sump system). The 500 peaked in the Meteor Minor of the early sixties, arguably a better bike than the more main-line British twins but, these days, those twins have largely been upgraded and have a reasonable spares situation. No such effort has been put into the Enfields.

The best buy amongst the Enfield camp is one of the last Series 2 mills which ended up in the excellent Rickman frame. Here you have an almost modern British vertical twin, a glimpse at how the breed might have developed if there had been enough money around to exploit the talents of British engineers. The Series 2, unique amongst British twins, actually had a wet-sump engine, hefty main bearings and a dynamically balanced crank. That added up to a mix of heavy power (not quite up to the standards of the wilder Commando's but it could take any Bonnie), almost as usable as an 850 Commando on the motorway (beyond 85mph vibes began to go heavy) and sturdy handling that bettered the rest of the Brit's in stability, the only limitation from its mass when swinging through the tighter bends.

This is a serious motorcycle, then, likely to appreciate in price greatly as rareness sets in. The spares situation isn't desperate but it's nowhere near as easy as in the mainstream of Brit twins. As there are no serious engine defects there's not much re-engineering needed, the main problem from fitment of shoddy parts - if you want to use this as a proper motorcycle, bear in mind that the build quality is variable. It's an easy way to write off four thousand notes if you don't know what you're doing.

Whereas most Enfields have some interesting engineering on offer, neither Ariel, AJS nor Matchless managed to rise above the middle ground of British technology. In all of these cases, look for something mild in nature, well preserved and basically stock, though obviously the more new engine components the better. If you join the relevant owner's club, the spares situation is reasonable for engine parts but sometimes difficult for the metalwork. Which at least shows they have their priorities right!

AJS and Matchless were basically the same models with different badges, eventually being taken over by Norton. Ariel ended up as part of BSA, used the A10 engine in later models. There are still some models of each make with motors running in a pretty dire state, and they keep clacking away to the last possible moment, which can prove expensive. It's more a case of avoiding the Ajay Model 33 (that Atlas mill!) and tracking down something with a few spare bikes thrown in as part of the deal. They can be relatively cheap and sensible ways into the British bike scene.

So there you go, loads of possibilities, lots of potential and some bargains. There's also a huge social scene, great friends to be made and lots of people who'll go out of their way to help you out. Can't be bad.

Johnny Malone

Bargain Bikes: Low End Motorcycles

Ever falling new bike prices have filtered through to the low end; what used to cost 750 to 1000 notes a year ago can now be found for 500 quid, or less. This is bargain basement time but finding the good deals is just as hard as always - there's always some optimistic soul trying to flog an old dog for silly money and loads of time can be wasted tracking down the useful stuff.

First then, get used to the telephone interrogation routine. What you want to find is a bike that has been owned by someone sensible who's given it a bit of tender loving care. How long has their name been in the logbook? How often has the oil been changed? Any obvious sign of crash damage? The state of the consumables? Has the engine been stripped? Keep the questions rolling, look for hesitation and general ignorance. It's surprising how many people will admit, over the phone, to never doing an oil change. Eliminate the obvious defectives (bikes and owners both) and concentrate on the stuff that sounds good.

At this price actual age of the bike means little. A five year old Jap can look pretty awful if it's been abused and neglected; a fifteen year old one can look a bit faded but fine if given some TLC. Mileage is equally misleading, old hacks that have been clocked in a much worse state than bikes that have done a genuine 50,000 miles.

Most Japanese four strokes, given regular oil changes, will do an easy 50,000 miles; many will break through the 100,000 mile barrier. Chassis disintegration is a larger problem than engine implosion; and a well put together bike, lacking the usual rust, is a sure sign of a well loved machine. Consumable demise isn't a great problem; cheap replacements in breakers. The same could be said for chassis components but it's always a hassle mixing and matching forks and shocks. Chassis bearings are cheap enough but a nasty business to replace. Good bikes give off a patina of trust that is recognizable when you've done the rounds for a while - believe it or not!

Commuters

Think £500 commuters, then it's mostly four stroke Hondas - singles and twins. That kind of money buys a really nice CG125 on the private market - four or five years old and less than 15000 miles. CG's are tough old things up to at least twice that mileage, maybe three times that. Regular, as in 1000 mile, oil changes the key to longevity. In its mild way, the big tank CG looks quite classical and feels more together than rival stroker commuters. The pushrod thumper whirls away without any apparent nastiness, only turning a bit vile when held flat out for a couple of miles. 125mpg is its major claim to fame. Plenty around that have been owned by sensible chaps who have even found the time to regularly polish them.

The Benly's are Honda's alternative commuter, including the CD250, their most recent effort. For this kind of dosh, expect a ten year old with around 25000 miles on the clock - can include anything from looking merely a bit faded to something that's a real old slag. All down to the owner and regularity of oil changes (again!). Build quality isn't up to the old CD's so if it looks pretty decent chances are it's just that.

The older Benly's usually sport ruined chassis and still thrumming motors, the vertical twin mill having a long history of taking whatever the owner can throw at it. Five hundred quid should buy one of the few prime Benly's left on the market. Most likely the later 200, as both 185's and early 200's had some engine problems and could be rather shorter lived than expected.

Five hundred quid will also buy one of the prime older CD175's or CB200's, the odd one still grinding away against the odds. The best of the bunch is a sixties CD175, spine frame and all, as it has a surprising turn of speed despite its commuter looks. As with all these old Honda twins, a sure sign of a genuine low mileage engine is a slick(ish) gearchange. Also, a lack of clutch drag in town. There are a whole host of sixties Honda twins but the good ones are closer to a grand than 500 notes.

I wouldn't spend that kind of money on one of the old CB125 singles (S or J), although one of the last CB100N's might tempt me if it had a low mileage. Of the stroker commuters, only the Yamaha RXS100 really appeals and then I'd make sure that it was one that hadn't been thrashed by youthful learners. KH100's can also be good buys.

The other four stroke single of note's the GS125, an OHC number that can run for as much as 60,000 miles, though infrequency of oil changes can halve that! Neat looking, compact and economical, it handled okay, seemed a bit more powerful than the CG and didn't have any obvious faults. The DR125 tended to be much more abused, whilst the custom GN125 is too pricey being relatively new; a blessing in disguise unless you like be laughed at or kicked off the road by true custom dudes.

There are plenty of other commuters in this price range but they tend not to react well to either age or mileage, though there are always exceptions that prove the rule - the one owner, low mileage trip that turn up in the local press at bargain prices or through family or friends.

Serious 250's

500 quid buys all kinds of 250's, and even stretches to some interesting bikes of slightly larger capacity. Those 250's that are the most fun are also the most fragile - strokers like the RD250 and GT250 twins, or even the inflammatory KH250 triple These bikes go back two decades, or even more, but have usually gone through several incarnations, rebuilds and tuning efforts, emerging either totally shagged or better than new.

Anything that's survived this long will have a decent chassis upgrade - if it hasn't it's been down the road so many times that the crash damage will be evident - expect a decent pair of Brit shocks, newer front end and proper bearings in the head and swinging arm pivots.

I recently bought one of the last KH250's for £450 - faded paint, a bit of alloy rot, 79000 miles on the clock and an engine that rattled, pinged and knocked like it was on its last legs (they all sound like that about five minutes after the rebuild). It smoked like a new MZ but still managed a surprising burst of speed, helped along by noisy spannies and degutted air-filter. Don't know how close to stock the engine internals were but it'd blast through the ton without any effort. I sold it after a week for 700 notes - two sets of spark plugs, 30mpg and a weird high speed shuffle threatened my peace of mind.

I've done serious miles on both the GT250 Suzuki and RD250 Yamaha, much preferred the latter because it didn't give off the impression of fragility that the Suzuki had in both its chassis and engine. A good RD should have fierce acceleration and a nice feeling of stability. 500 notes won't buy a prime example, but with a bit of engine or chassis work they can be compelling little devices.

By comparison, the fours strokes are more serious, less fun. The 250 Superdream immediately comes to mind as a perfectly plausible set of wheels (though the 400 was better, needing a lot less throttle work to get where it was going) until the 50,000 mile mark when all the engine internals are close to, or past, the point of return. Dead easy to buy something that's running, seems to be fine, only to find a few miles later it's dead meat. 500 notes should certainly buy one of the remaining decent examples, can even stretch to a tatty 400.

Later variants on the Superdream engine are a bit out of this price range, though the odd CB350S does turn up from time to time. Build quality's a mixed bag - some chassis go off rapidly, others survived better than the motor (which had the usual Superdream problems) - probably depends on whether the bike lived outdoors or indoors overnight. Look for just one or two owners, bikes that have gone through many hands usually too neglected to be worth taking a chance on.

Yamaha's offering, the XS250, is almost as uninspiring as the Superdream, though its simple engine (pistons rising and falling alternatively without any balancers) is easier to maintain except when minor but hard to trace electrical problems cause awkward starting and nasty running. It's often just worn switches intermittently shorting out, very cheaply fixed by taking them out of the circuit. The bike also doesn't like non-standard coils and often eats up spark plugs in a few thousand miles.

Having said all that, both the 250 and 400 are neat little motorcycles that will float along at 80mph for as long as you can hang on and not do too much damage to the consumables. A lot of them have rusted their chassis to death, those well cared for easily recognized by their slightly faded patina.

The Suzuki GSX250 was a similar near miss to the XS250, compounding its difficulties by having an eight valve cylinder head that needed both regular attention and frequent oil changes to avoid metallurgical transgression - that is, turning to cheese! Its motor smooth almost to the point of remoteness, any vibes that turn up on the test ride should be viewed with suspicion. Such is its reputation, that I managed to buy a one-owner, 27000 miler, for 400 notes.

It didn't shine with showroom vigour but neither was there an abundance of cosmetic decay - at least until it was left out overnight during a rainstorm and I didn't even recognize the resulting rusting relic! The corrosion cleaned up quickly, almost painlessly, but leave it for a few days and it becomes as resistant as barnacles on the bottom of a ship! I had a gay old time thrusting the thing through Central London, though I could have done with a little more power and bit less mass. Sold it a nice profit with 39000 miles on the clock when it was beginning to smoke on the overrun, so I won't hear a word said against them.

Most of the 250 thumpers are similarly uninspiring. The old CB250RS being the best of the bunch in this price range but wholly unlikely to turn up with an engine that will see out the month. Most ruined by DR's. The handy chassis has had any number of motors shoe-horned into it, including XL600's! The best that can be expected some radically altered bolide with a much rebuilt motor - such bikes almost impossible to suss for future longevity.

Both the GN250 Suzuki and SR250 Yamaha were blunted by mild custom styling and pathetic power outputs but can be useful town bikes and there are many that haven't been hard used. I prefer the SR, though I had a successful interval on the GN way back when. Again, poor build quality makes it pretty obvious which five year plus old bike has been looked after and which has been neglected. I wouldn't touch anything that shows signs of an engine strip (gasket goo, ruined engine bolts, etc) because neither motor responded well to amateur mechanics or outright bodging, though they will both keep going long enough to get out of the street. 500 notes should buy something with less than 20,000 miles and faded chassis with no immediate need for consumable replacement.

The other thumper of note's the Kawasaki Z200, perhaps the best of the bunch save that they are now so old that few good ones are available. Useful blend of speed, power and low running costs (80mph, 80mpg and more than 15000 miles from the consumables). The later Z250 was more of the same but was a bit ruined by pollution laws or just plain lazy engineering, didn't have the finesse of the smaller thumper.
These thumpers had trail versions, but they tended to be much more abused, but occasionally something reasonable turns up.

Middleweights

There are loads of bikes from the seventies that fit into this category - everything from sensible twins to ridiculous triples. Anything with classic status won't make it into this price range - that includes stuff like H1's, CB400/500 fours and GS550's but still leaves plenty of interesting tackle.

Where to start? At the bottom... Honda CX500's are still rolling around the despatch circuit and still a cheap way into sensible motorcycling. It doesn't look so awful as when it was new and has a blend of low running costs, reasonable performance and half decent handling (assuming the suspension's been sorted). The downside's that there's no telling when the motor's going to explode or just plain wear out.

At the other end of the game, high mileage GS450E's give every indication of illness by knocking their main bearings. This can happen as low as 50,000 miles or more than twice that. Good GS450E's have motors that are bland to the point of near nonexistence, so easy enough to suss - if you suspect something's wrong it very probably is! Chassis degeneration is quite interesting under London's regime of acid rain!

Go back even further in history, buy a GS400 or GS425 - as long as you find a mature owner you could snag yourself a bargain, though the earlier twins usually did in their valves or cams rather than main bearings (the eight valve GSX400 being one to avoid). Other Suzukis worth avoiding are their stroker triples, the paucity of power not warranting taking a chance on a design that liked to overheat, consume masses of fuel and handle like an angry mammoth.

Venturing into four cylinder territory, few if any Kawasaki or Suzuki fours will be available for this kind of money. The Yamaha XJ550 the best you can expect - not an intrinsically bad bike just one that didn't inspire much love or respect in its owners. Electrical hassles and chassis consumption (as in a rust eating disease) as likely to be a hassle as minor things like breaking camchains, ruined valves or a shot gearbox. Nevertheless there are some good buys out there.

Honda's CB550 is another possibility, lacking the XJ's edge (which in turn lacked the GPz550's edge) but a pleasant enough old bus to roar along upon, especially with a suspension upgrade to tighten up the handling. The engine's the weakest of the 550's (ignoring the CBX550 in this price category) but one of the simpler to work on - look for camchain rattles, knocking big-ends and/or thrashed camshaft lobes or rockers. Gentle use equals longevity.

One of Honda's tougher designs, the VT500, is going to be well thrashed and abused at this price point, but that won't necessarily stop it going around the clock a second time. You need to know what you're doing, basically. The same goes for the more mediocre Kawasaki fours - Z400 and Z500, maybe even ancient GT550's - with the exception of the 500's camchain problems, they can be tough and long-lived, the chassis as likely to shed its bearings, rust back to nature, as the motor is to blow up. A huge range of conditions and mileage available.

Perhaps more sensible to hit on one of the Kawasaki twins - Z400, 440 and 750 - which were so mild to begin with that they often led a gentle life until falling into the hands of the usual madmen. I had 20,000 miles out of one Z440, didn't even change the oil or clean it. With 73000 miles on the clock, it was jet-washed, polished and traded in for a VT500 without incurring a loss. Mind, I almost fell off a couple of times when the performance sent me to sleep on the motorway!

650/750's

The bigger the bike, the less five hundred notes buys. Well, there are plenty of rat fours barely able to turn a wheel but who wants to handle a complete chassis and engine rebuild - the only surprise is that people actually expect money for these heaps.

The pick of the bunch is Honda's CB650. Yes, sounds like I've gone senile but I've come across a few, even bought one, that have been owned by mature types who take a delight in telling me the correct valve clearances and how changing the oil makes such a difference to the gearchange (which if it still works probably means the words are genuine, so nasty can worn ones turn). Not in abundant supply but hunt around the motorcycle classifieds for the good deals.

Another motorcycle mired in mediocrity, but still able to turn a reasonable speed, Suzuki's GS650GT is also available for this kind of dosh. A smooth shaft drive the sign of a well looked after example, myriad engine problems can intrude at high mileages - all down to the saneness of the past owners; usually pretty good as it's a bit of a pig of a handler, discouraged wild riding.

Yamaha's XJ650 was a similar machine but tougher on the engine front but not without its whims and tended to wear out the whole motor eventually.

About the only 750 you're going to buy for 500 quid, an old and rotting CB750F1. Not exactly inspiring but it can be turned into a fast(ish) brute with a bit of effort; most of the ancient stuff cuts out in the wet, causing the rider to ride off the road or be back-ended by following cagers.
Other Stuff

There's loads of Iron Curtain stuff available, the best of a rotten bunch, of course, the MZ 250, though some UMG addicts reckon that the Jawa 350 is miles better. I'll leave you to find out the truth of that for yourselves; enough's enough - you have to draw the line somewhere!

Dick Lewis

Despatches: Crashing and Despatching - Learning the Hard Way!

The radio was on the blink yet again. The vile CX650 gave out an excess of vibes and the rock solid suspension did nothing to moderate the ruined road surfaces. Each night I rode home bruised and bloodied from the day's adventures. Each morning I woke up worn out but ever hopeful. What kept me going was an agreeably growing bank account and the fact that after ten years of trying to settle into a proper job I'd at last found some work that didn't bore me rigid.

Part of that was because for a lot of the time pure fear was coursing through my veins. The CX might have many virtues as a long distance tourer but in town it was so slow moving and so heavy going that I had often seemed to have more chance of winning the lottery than missing the cages. It was really weird, then, that the first time I came off was down to another bike crashing into me. I was just edging into a gap between car and pavement when there was a blast on a horn like a volcano rumbling. Before I'd had time to react some hard faced DR had edged his DR650's front wheel in front of mine, tried to use the momentum of his bike to knock me off.

Two motorcycles into a bicycle-sized hole certainly wouldn't go. The CX surged forward, knocking the DR sideways into the back of the auto. As metal crunched into metal I was finally thrown into the gutter, toppling over on to a bunch of glue-sniffing retro-punks. It was hard to tell who was the most enraged, with the resulting screaming, brandishing of tyre irons, knives and knuckle-dusters.

The DR viciously whacked me on my helmet with a tyre iron only to find his knee-cap broken from a kick by the burly cager who was frothing at the mouth. The punks ran off with some of the parcels that had fallen out of my panniers, whilst still starry-eyed from the bashing, I cursed under my breath. The police turned up next, far from amused at the mess and the violence. It took them a while to work out that I was an entirely innocent victim rather than the prime cause of all the carnage. The DR was carted away in an ambulance, between howls threatening to tear us limb from limb, the car driver cuffed and myself taken down to the cop shop for the obligatory statement.

Coming back to the bike some four fraught hours later I was relieved to see that it was still in one piece, hadn't been torn asunder by any of the louts who hung out in town. The controller was almost understanding when I turned up with my tale of woe, insisting that we had some medicinal brandy until both of us could barely walk. I ended up sleeping in the office overnight as I was bound to crash the CX in my far gone state.

That happened two days later when a diesel slick had left a huge area of a junction as slippery as an ice-rink. The slide was almost graceful for the first few yards, with the crash-bars scraping over the tarmac, until we hit a cyclist. We had momentum and speed on our side, but the collision caused the Honda to flip right over and send me catapulting through the air. I was lucky no-one ran me down, though it wasn't a view shared my either the cyclist or two car drivers who'd had their cages battered by the out of control Honda.

I told them we were all lucky to be alive, which went down well! The same set of cops turned up again who were not amused at my antics. They viewed my claims about the road surface with suspicion until one of their number slipped, landed on his back and started groaning in agony. He needed an ambulance and one of the other cops waved everyone away with contempt. He was becoming so aggressive that it was lucky he didn't have the time to do us all.

The Honda had bent bars and pegs which explains how I fell off a mile up the road. There's an art to rolling with the fall which I totally failed to implement that time. That was because I landed on my head and wrenched my neck. The CX didn't look like it was any more damaged than before, the cause of the low speed accident its top-heaviness when I banked over into a bend. The thing just flopped over in an instant.

CX650's are easy to repair, just kick or bend everything straight. I rode majestically through various external traumas for the next eight weeks before another accident occurred. I thought I'd mastered the sixth sense necessary for survival in the intense, heaving traffic but you can't account for completely mad drivers, can you?

This one was piloting an ancient van that creaked along low on its springs, its age made up for by some dirge out of a 100 decibel stereo system. This battered remnant of a fairer society slid through the traffic oblivious to the carnage it was causing, the driver's foot stuck on the throttle. I'd heard it coming, glanced sideways to see it rearing across a junction, ignoring the redness of the traffic light. I had but moments to react, decided to accelerate across its front. He missed me but the desperate use of the throttle had caused me to back-end the car in front, whose driver had decided to go into total panic mode by hitting all the brakes.

By the time I'd picked myself up off the floor, the van had done a disappearing act and there was no-one left to corroborate my obviously weak story. Apart from having the stuffing knocked out of me I was okay, so we agreed to swap names, addresses and insurance details, although god knows I was probably going to end up black-listed! The CX had a bent front wheel but it still rotated, allowing me to complete the day's work at the price of wasted arm muscles from fighting the continuous wobble - I was thankful I didn't fall off again.

It was at about this time, just after fitting a used front wheel, that I decided it was time to fit a huge Rickman fairing to see off the worst of the winter weather. The truck-like handling became much heavier and unable to see the front wheel, the whole bike developed a vague, querulous nature that didn't look likely to aid my future survival. On the other hand, having functioning hands and feet in the cold weather would leave me much more in control of the beast.

The weight over the front wheel allowed the front tyre to slide away in bends with frightening ease. In the first week of wet weather I came off about ten times, doing the same knee in twice and actually breaking the crash-bars in two! The tyre was a bit rotted, to be sure, but it'd previously gone into controlled slides rather than turn rancorous and retributive. A nearly new Metzeler transformed the front end but the vagueness was still there.

The hectic pressure of despatching in the capital meant that I had to force the Honda through narrow gaps despite the excessive width of the fairing. This led to many a merry moment when desperation failed to overcome physical reality. When I began to realize that the edges of the fairing were both sharp and strong, I just surged through the gap, battering away at the cages until they nervously jerked out of the way.

On one occasion, in a rare psychic moment of communion, two car drivers both veered inwards, trapping me between them. The fairing shuddered then cracked asunder with an almighty bang, bits of GRP flying off. The cagers blew their horns in celebration and sped off down the road, leaving me stranded with bits of fairing meshed in the front end. The only good thing was that winter was coming to an end by then and I was quite relieved to dump the pile of GRP by the roadside.

Of course, the next week we had record rainstorms that left the city in a foot of water, the roads really greasy and myself soaked through. You could see the cagers congratulating themselves on their good fortune... until I slid off a couple of times and ruined their day. I defy anyone to stay aboard two wheels in that kind of maelstrom. I escaped serious injury except for a twisted angle when I fell all wrong but I bound it up and carried on heroically.

This might all seem a bit excessive but it was part of a DR's life, especially one who was new to the trade and wasn't riding an ideal machine. These days I lurch around the city on a much modified MZ 500, a rather more reasonable set of wheels and have escaped serious injury for the past seven months. A miracle? Probably, but I put it down to the highly developed survival instincts of a coward.

T.L.

Honda CB400/4: Ultimate Hacking with a sting

Motorcycling is one of the strangest games going. I started out young with a Tiger Cub field bike. Rode illegally on the road a few times. By seventeen I had a serious bike in the form of a CB400 four. One of the early F1's - identified by the pillion pegs on the swinging arm. Red, with the original sexy four into one exhaust. 18000 miles, one owner, just ready for some serious riding, I thought. Luckily it came with several boxes of parts. Including the all important pistons and rings. A chronic weak spot, going down every 20,000 miles or so. Mine went, predictably, at 19,400 miles. Much to my disgust.

It was this demise, though fixed cheaply with just a new gasket set, that started a period of decline. I just rode the bike, with the occasional oil change thrown in when the gearbox went really dire. It was always a bit hit and miss but I'd grown up on similar hacks, wasn't that annoyed. The bike was 15 years old then but its finish was still good because bits had been replaced along the way and the owner was devoted to the machine. It took eighteen months of neglect before the rust began to seep out from under the chassis paint.

The petrol tank was the first to go, eventually dribbling out fuel. I actually sent a couple of cops into a frenzy when I parked up in Bristol's town centre. They cited it as a potential fire hazard and were all for having it towed away. Until their tirade was interrupted by squawking radios. They buggered off and so did I. One of my crazier friends, who had decided he was a mechanic after an afternoon's training with a hammer, pointed a welding torch at the bottom of the empty tank...

He reckoned he'd always wanted a bald head. He didn't have much choice in the matter after the petrol vapour caught when he made a big hole in the bottom of the tank. As I said, he was crazy, didn't give up until the bottom of the tank was reinforced with steel plate. You could only see it from underneath, so a good bodge.

He also waved the magic wand at the exhaust system, which was falling apart around the collector box. The work of art exhaust ended up looking naff from the one side. I had to put an inline filter on the fuel pipe to stop the rust gunging up the carbs and the altered exhaust put a bit of a flat spot in the rev range between 4500 and 6500rpm.

This actually added some spice to the power delivery. At best, the CB400's 37 horses were mildly amusing. At worst, it'd gasp along at 80mph on the motorway, into a headwind. 105mph was the most I ever managed. Needing a head between the clocks stance and a thorough workout on the gearbox, with a good chance of ending up in a false neutral, the engine screaming to 13000rpm. At times the need to ride at ten-tenths everywhere was kind of fun, other times it was rather irritating.

One good point was that ridden mildly, as in below 6000rpm, the mill would turn in 65mpg, sometimes as much as 70mpg! Considering that I never touched the four carbs or eight valves in the first eighteen months that was pretty amazing. Flat out, it could go down to 35mpg under adverse conditions. The average worked out at 55-60mpg. Along with cheap used consumables that lasted well, the general running costs were as good, if not better, than most 250's!

Having failed to break the bike in 18 months of neglect, with 38000 miles on the clock I decided it was worthy of serious effort. At that point I'd forgotten the way the pistons went down every 20,000 miles - it had so impressed me that I was blind to its potential faults. Anyway, one complete respray, polish, engine service and replacement petrol tank later I was back on the road on what was generally viewed as one of the classic bikes of the seventies. By then it was 1993 and there weren't that many CB400's left on the road. Either worn out or collecting dust in ever hopeful collectors' garages.

With 41000 miles on the clock, the engine started smoking heavily, with some disturbing piston slap. It still ran okay but I had the feeling that if I didn't do something quick it'd break up on me. A great hunt followed for some pistons and cylinder, only attained after I'd run after some other guy on a 400. He had half a garage full of stuff and three examples of the model! He sold me pistons, cylinder and new exhaust system for £200. Not quite hack country, perhaps, but my mate on a CBR9 spends a similar amount every 3000 miles on consumable replacements!

I even went so far as to buy new gearbox selectors from the local Honda dealer who was trying to shift his seventies spares. I had finally become tired of going from first into about half a dozen neutrals until second or third was finally, desperately, attained. The renovated machine was lovingly pushed into the daylight on a sublimely clear April day...refused to start! Cry? Nope, I swapped the HT leads over, but only after half an hour's frustrated tinkering. You feel a right pillock after doing something silly like that.

This time the Honda whirled into life and wobbled down the road. It had always been a particularly fine handler, even on naff tyres, so I was a bit disconcerted to find it veering all over the road just like my field bike Tiger Cub. A quick look over revealed a loose swinging arm - it would move from side to side. It suddenly dawned on me what the two large washers I'd found on the garage floor were for. Hmmm!

With that fixed it was all back to business, the engine whirring away better than ever before and the bike winning admiring glances from just about everyone. It's a cute, compact thing that dances through traffic just as well as it does through the country lanes. Amazing, really, when you think the chassis was basically off the dreadful CB360G5. I've even had the odd dice with bigger fours, doing them on the corners only to be blown away on the straights. So inspiring was the CB400 in its day that there was a 460cc kit that liberated the true power potential of the engine. Given the way the stocker eats pistons, though, you'd have to be very optimistic to take it seriously. Still, could be fun as a Sunday toy.

For a year I kept the bike in fine fettle but that didn't stop the rings breaking up at 57000 miles. Caused by the small-ends wearing and allowing the pistons to wobble around. Effectively, the crankshaft was ruined. £450 bought a rebuilt engine, which actually vibrated rather than whirled smoothly; newish CB400's are turbine smooth! Nevertheless, it was run in neglect mode for the next three years, doing over 70,000 miles with only three sets of replacement rings, a bit of gearbox work and one rebuilt cylinder head. It would've got the mileometer around the clock had not the speedo exploded at 89000 miles!

The bike is still in my garage but sagging on wrecked suspension and putting out enough exhaust emissions to give an environmentalist a permanent grudge. I've got an MZ 301 for the hacking chores so may well do another renovation job on the 400, as they can fetch as much as 1500 notes. Despite its piston problems it has to be the ultimate hack. Alas, these days, it's hard to find nice ones at reasonable prices.

Mark Wright

Honda CL90: Vintage steed with a surprising usefulness

In amongst a huge array of grey's in the importers there was this small Honda single of 1970 vintage. It had somehow survived 27 years in the States, only 14000 miles done. Lots of alloy rot and corroded chrome but a few kicks had the engine running. It looked very similar to the C50/90 series but had a handlebar clutch lever and four speed gearbox. With an upswept exhaust and high bars it had evidently been marketed to the Americans as some kind of mild trailster! I hoped it was going to have all the mechanical virtues of Honda's infamously indestructible step-thru's with the handling of a proper motorcycle. I had to hand over £300 to find out.

Being 62, retired and a lifelong biker I was looking for something easy to ride, cheap to run and simple to maintain. Some modern bikes fit the bill - CG125, GS125, etc., but are much too expensive when bought new or newish. The only cheap old ones I had viewed were in an awful state. The little Honda came as a great relief as the pushbike was becoming a bit much.

That relief only last for a few days. I was just getting used to its mild ways, the need to keep the momentum up, when the starting went difficult. One new spark plug - amazingly easy to fit, by the way - didn't solve it. The points were heavily spotted with carbon. One very good point then emerged - a set of C90 points from the breakers went straight in. I could just imagine approaching the local flash Honda dealer and asking for parts for a 1970 bike they had doubtless never heard of. Interchangeability of parts with C90's makes the bike a very practical proposition.

New spark and points helped the starting but then it would conk out without any warning. My old heart didn't need that fright! I cleaned the fuel tank, pipe and carb out but there was hardly any debris there. Being an old hand, I decided the condenser was to blame. A car item (less than a quid) was wired in and, bingo, all systems go.

Though the SL could never be called fast, the high bars were very irritating to someone used to sensible motorcycles. They were a rather odd diameter, took some sifting through my collection of old British bits to find a flat set of bars. Off a Norman Nippy, or something similarly obscure, I think! That was more like it, the seat still surprisingly plush and the pegs well placed, if like me, you're on the small side.

The next thing I noticed was that the bike would top out at about 55mph - with the engine screaming and vibrating away in fourth gear. Evidently geared to run up near vertical cliffs. Another visit to the breakers secured a newish chain and sprocket set - just as well as the old chain had some tight spots. The larger engine sprocket gave taller gearing, an indicated 65mph coming up on the speedo. 50mph cruising was much more relaxed. Whilst at the breakers I also bought a newish set of tyres to replace the plastic junk that came with the bike - whether they aged badly or were the OE rubbish I know not.

After a good cleaning session, I was pretty pleased with my new purchase. Even more so when I worked out that fuel was an astonishing 115mpg! Small though the Honda was, it was capable of doing 150 miles in one sitting before the discomfort became too great. Then it was into a fuel station, gas up, walk around for five minutes until I was ready for another session. One time I was so engrossed in riding up the east coast that I ended up 400 miles away from home!

The problem was getting back. Most of the generator's power goes to keeping the ignition working, very little left for the lighting. The horn's a particularly pathetic squeak. This meant avoiding riding on unlit roads at night. As the bike wasn't up to motorway work, this meant I had no chance of reaching home before the sun disappeared. As I'm a widower I didn't have to worry about a panicking wife. A bed and breakfast sufficed, though the landlady couldn't believe I'd come so far on such a small bike. She still made me take off my shoes before I could cross the threshold.

The next morning I left with a song in my heart, the little Honda rustling along as if it too was happy to be out and above. I then almost had a heart attack when some clown in a Cavalier tried to cross my path without warning. The small SLS drums didn't inspire, but I managed to twitch around the back of the horror. The car driver then slammed on his brakes, shoved his head out of the window and screamed abuse at me. Couldn't hear much through the lid but the popping eyes and red face indicated he wasn't a happy bunny. You can't help the blind, I always say.

I did notice that after a 100 miles of hard riding the Honda ran very hot. Clutch drag set in if this coincided with entering a town centre. Doing the kangaroo hop at my age isn't quite the done thing, is it? Some adjustment of the clutch cable sufficed but I had to remember to readjust it when the motor had cooled down. These kind of minor irritants seem par for the course on old motorcycles. Pay your money and take your choice.

During the summer the bike was used every day, though many times for just hopping around town. Certain things emerged. The oil needing changing every 700 miles to stop the engine and gearbox going temperamental. Given fresh oil it ran with a very nice rustle indeed! The spark plug didn't want to last for more than 2500 miles. Couldn't find any reason for this, it wasn't oiling up or anything. The exhaust valve started tapping if not adjusted every 1000 miles (easy enough) whilst the inlet valve never needed any attention. Odd, I can only assume that the former was becoming a bit hot. One area that lacked the step-thru's practicality was the absence of full chain enclosure - adjustment needed every 200 miles, or so. Other than these things, the bike just whirred away in a typical Oriental manner.

At the end of the summer there was some heavy rain and I skidded off the bike on the polished road surface. Landed on my knee with a lot of skin scraped away. The CL could be kicked straight without too much effort and I rode to the local hospital, expecting tea and sympathy. Received three different lectures about someone of my great age riding motorcycles. Cheek!

The next day I decided to sort my mind out by going for a long ride. Togged up in several layers of waterproofs I didn't really mind the thunder and lightning show. Towards the end of the seventy mile journey, the Honda started to stutter but we made it back home and the next day it ran fine.

I managed to ride most of the time in the Autumn but the heavy winter months were a bit too much - just short trips when there was a weak sun in the sky. The Honda didn't like being neglected, needing many kicks if it hadn't been started for a week - rather like me, going all stiff if I don't have a good walk every day. February 1998 was thankfully mild and sunny, beating all the record books!

I had spent some time getting the alloy and chrome up to a mirror shine, T-cutting the paint back to its former glory and going over a myriad of minor items. Many people thought it must be some new retro model aimed at the sub-125cc sector and were amazed to learn it was 28 years old! Some hardcore bikers went away muttering darkly when I revealed how cheap were fuel, consumables and insurance. Don't know how long it will last but I shall try to keep it going for as long as I am able to ride it.

George Newyn

Kawasaki Z440: Rotten Reality

My mate, Smithy, was a big bloke who just didn't look right on the small and compact Z440. Every time I saw him on the bike I pointed this out to him. After about three months the message got through his prematurely grey hair into what was left of his brain (too much wine and too many divorces - you know the type!). The bike was up for grabs and perfectly suited to this skinny weasel. Nearly twenty years old, with eleven owners in the registration document, the speedo only showed 23000 miles. I sat on the little twin, felt immediately at home and decided we were soul mates. Handed over the 500 sovs without further ado, making Smithy go all suspicious! Nothing like leaving a trail of paranoia in one's wake, is there?

The Z440 can best be summed as a typical mid-capacity vertical twin in the mould of the milder Triumph and BSA twins of the sixties. As a son of seventies Japanese engineering it added good reliability and reasonable longevity to the genre. Though it could knock up more than the ton, speed wasn't its game, having more low down and midrange torque than most such devices. Its handling revelled in stability rather than fast turning, but that just made it a very safe bike to ride in all conditions.

Okay, the basic, perhaps somewhat soggy, package had, along the way, been upgraded - Girling shocks, stiffer springs and flatter bars. Nothing too expensive or extreme, but just sufficient added stiffness in travel movement and forward redistribution of rider weight to bring out the best qualities that the tubular frame of utterly conventional structure and geometry might possess.

Both the stock stands and exhaust system had a tendency to dig into bumpy country lane curves when the Z was ridden with a touch of elan but the former had been cut back and the bike sported the obligatory loud two into one exhaust system - in all its rust and matt black glory. To be honest, the latter left me with earache and a nervous twitch - I was a very happy man when I bought a new Kawasaki exhaust system for fifty quid when a dealer was having a closing down sale. Performance, at the top end, increased, allowing about 110mph on the flickering speedo - even after I'd added a few dents with the hammer to aid ground clearance.

General riding gave about 60mpg and it took a lot of throttle madness to get the bike below 55mpg. The engine just didn't feel right when revved really hard. The counterbalancer's chain whipped itself into the kind of self-destructive frenzy that gave out more eyeball popping vibes that a similarly thrashed 500 Triumph twin of my acquaintance (a mate's Tiger 100). The Z440 couldn't burn the Tiger off, though it won out in long distance cruising - much more reliable and less vibratory at 80-85mph. Handling was about equal.

The Z was one of those bikes that neither excelled nor annoyed in any one particular area. Generally easy going, it could cruise through town, whip through the bends and loiter on the motorway without looking like an accident about to happen. The parameters of its performance, and age of design, were brought home to me one sunny Sunday when I was thoroughly whipped by a youth on a TZR125 (I presume it was derestricted).

Trying to emulate his line through 70mph bends had the old Kawasaki squirming on the edge of its cheap tyres, the modified exhaust fighting with the tarmac and tears running out of my eyes as I refused to change up from third, knowing that the sudden power jerk would throw us right off the road. The TZR accelerated so much more rapidly that even the theoretical higher top speed of the Z wasn't worth a damn.
I tried to console myself with thoughts of superior longevity and economy but it didn't really work; a bit too undignified to be burnt off by some spotty youth just out of school. I abused the Z for the next couple of days, doing the commuting chores in town until I made the clutch overheat, drag something chronic...

Turned out the engine oil had turned milky white! When I went to take out the sump bolt I found its edges were so worn I couldn't get a spanner to hold. The molegrips slipped off, took a large chunk out of my palm as they snapped shut. The chisel and hammer were reverently unleased and the recalcitrant bugger finally turned! Not just turned, actually fell out, my hand and arm covered in noxious muck that was once upon a time engine lubricant. Some of this got into the cut in my palm, causing an infection, strange liquid seeping out of my hand - could've made a fortune in the bible belt claiming to have a stigma!

Meanwhile, I sorted through my stash of aged spares for something that could be Araldited back in, like the one that had fallen out! Not wanting to go through the same routine every time I changed the oil, I drilled the replacement out, knocked in a new thread for a smaller bolt that could be removed whenever I wanted to do a lube change. A lot easier than having a helicoil fitted into the sump.

When that was all fixed, the engine at least had the common decency to purr back into life with a contented growl, a perfect clutch and much improved gearbox, though it was still nowhere near as good as the even older Tiger's. Ah, pleasant days again! After a few weeks, riding the Z was second nature, no nasty surprises hidden away. Even the Triumph owner got off the Jap twin with a big grin on his face!

The single front disc was soon giving hassle. What a surprise! A mate had a GT750 front end that was persuaded on. This left the poor old Z dangerously overbraked - only had to look at the front brake lever to have the forks shaking in the headstock and the front tyre squealing for all it was worth. First time I used it in the wet nothing happened, I pulled harder and the next thing I knew was a hasty departure from the 440's saddle. The landing was painful, but at least my body saved the Kawasaki from any serious damage.

The GT's front end was promptly returned to its owner and I gave him an uncalled-for bollicking for trying to kill me! EBC pads, a bit of disc machining, secondhand Goodridge hose and new fluid added up to a working front brake that was at least predictable (rather like the whole bike) if not exactly heart-stopping in retardation. The back drum wasn't much better, but didn't need any new components as it would already lock up the wheel without much effort.

That sorted, the days rolled by pretty effortlessly, and I had a good laugh at Smithy who must've bought the one XS650 with a dodgy engine in the country. I actually saw him by the roadside, crying over the fact that half the engine internals were splattered over the tarmac. Refused to contemplate towing him home - one such experience more than enough - but gave the old bugger a lift on the pillion. By the time we reached his house, the ungrateful sod was ranting and raving about my riding technique... something to do with crossing over double-white-lines, I think. Silly old codger.

The next little tantrum was the drive chain snapping, just as I was about to charge off to work. I had a spare bit of chain but was sent ballistic when I couldn't get the engine cover off. The screws refused to budge. Had to get a lift into work and put in some serious hammer work on my return. That's one of the problems with old Japs - the manufacturers obviously had a horror of bits falling off, designed everything to corrode solidly together. Great for riding, very naff for maintenance.

After 9000 miles of having fun, generally enjoying myself, the engine began to puff and groan up the steeper hills. I noticed that the cylinder head was weeping a touch of oil and there was the odd puff of smoke on the overrun. Being of a mildly paranoid disposition I diagnosed that the engine was on the way out and happily accepted an offer off Smithy - what I'd paid for the bike plus one XS650 in bits. Smithy has done another 6000 miles without wrecking the Z and I've just managed to shoehorn an XS400 engine into the 650's chassis - a rather perverse combination but the motor just happened to be going for a song and shouldn't be able to push the XS650's chassis fast enough to bring out the infamous speed wobbles.

Given the chance of a low mileage Z440 at a reasonable price, though, I'd grab it with both hands.

Mark Dobbs

Yam XS250: Virtual Twin

Horrible was how I felt fifteen minutes after buying a Yam XS250. It was an ancient old thing but quite nicely polished, a well put together cycle. Testing out its limits on a fave stretch of country road, I found that appearances didn't amount to much. Hurling the lightweight twin right over, the rubber going weak at its edges, the 2-1 exhaust dug in. Catching on the tarmac, it tried to hurl the bike sideways. I put some muscle into getting it upright and going in the right direction. If the curve hadn't tightened up I might've survived. The bike shuffled on to the grass verge, lost all grip and dropped downwards.

I did something nasty to my right wrist and knee on landing. So rapid the fall from grace that it felt like I'd actually blacked out. The Yamaha - the little sod - had a relatively easy time of it. Sliding over the grass until it finally lost momentum by destroying a rotten bit of wooden fencing. I hobbled over to the thing, would've given it a proper kicking if I had two good legs to stand on! Eventually, the bike was upright and I was able to wobble home at a preposterously mediocre velocity.

Damage was bent pegs, twisted bars, shortened levers where they'd broken off and a few new dents. A used set of handlebars and a bit of hammer work sorted it out. Took several visits to the hospital before I was in a similarly happy state. My refusal of a tetanus shot causing the doc to prescribe such a nasty antibiotic combo that it left me dead to the world. In no fit state to ride a motorcycle.

Took about a month until I finally got around to speed testing the little Yamaha. Just about do the ton. After 85mph a rather large wobble occurred. If a bump was hit, turned into a bit of tank-slapper. The bars trying to pummel their way out of my already weakened grip. Later, giving the bike a good kicking revealed some play in the swinging arm bearings. Having had this hassle on previous bikes I decided to leave it well alone until things went desperate...

Weaving along the M1 at three in the morning after a mind bending party in the woods, I thought I'd see if I could better the ton. One hell of a speed wobble resulted. The poor old XS was wobbling over two lanes of the motorway. I was panicked out of my mind, not knowing if I should brake or sit it out. There was a long bend up front, dazzling headlamps from oncoming cars beginning to frazzle my vision. Ended up, as I braked viciously, that I didn't know where I was. My so-called mates would say this was nothing unusual. Only I didn't usually disintegrate aboard a buckling bronco of a motorcycle at high speed.

The Yamaha finally pulled itself together at about 50mph. The stress from the incident so heavy that it never again ran straight and true. There was nothing for it but to take a hammer to the swinging arm spindle. I well knew the horrors to come (from the seized in spindle) and when the local breaker offered to fix it for forty notes, including new bearings and used spindle (if necessary) I went for it.

The local breaker's been there for decades, seen it all. About 100kg of fat, a grotty old beard obscures most of his face and he has a voice that inspires fear. He has a reputation for cheap prices and work that owes more to brute force than skill. Just what I needed! Typically, the spindle came out with a few taps, as straight as when it came out of the factory. Less than half an hour's work that I could've done myself. Oh well!

At this point the breaker had a nasty surprise for me. No, he wasn't into sodomizing youths like some dealers but pointed out that the back wheel's hub had lots of tiny cracks. Alloy welding would probably work, suggested he, but the used back wheel he had to hand would be much better and jolly reasonable at thirty notes. He'd even swap the tyres over. I cursed the Yamaha's shoddy alloy and the way I liked to speed into the house - up half a foot high stone step!

Poorer but no wiser I rode home. After all that expense I expected brilliant handling right the way up to the top speed. Shocked to find that the back end was all over the road at 60mph. A bit more kicking revealed that the back wheel's bearings were on the way out! The breaker found this highly amusing, warned me that it was dead easy to crack the hub when knocking the old bearings out. He'd fix it up for me for thirty notes. I should buy a tee-shirt with sucker written on it!

After spending a hundred quid I finally had a motorcycle that didn't speed wobble any longer. I'd also fitted on some original downpipes with a pair of mega's to sort out the ground clearance problems. At around 360lbs, the XS could be flung around with relative ease. I did find that the front tyre would try to wash out when accelerating out of bends. Not that the Yamaha ever managed mind bending acceleration but it was as fast as most low end cars and would take on 250 Superdreams and the like.

Some good points. Fuel was exceptional - around 70mpg average - but the airfilter was full of holes and the silencers almost straight through! Consumption of the Taiwanese tyres, cheap chain and EBC pads was marginal, about the same as my Honda C50! Engine maintenance was merely a case of changing the oil every 1500 miles, everything else was so worn no adjustment needed. Handling was brilliant for charging through town and motor really liked to be revved out through the gears. The harder the throttle was used the smoother it became - pistons moving up and down alternatively, no balancers.

The pity of it was that the chassis appeared to be falling apart rapidly. About six weeks after fixing the back end, the steering head bearing went all loose. Tightened down the stem but that made the handling even more horrendous! The bearings were pitted, devoid of any grease. A nice set of taper-rollers bashed in but needed perfect tensioning of the stem bolt before they worked properly. Once that was done, the front end attained unknown precision. On a bike of this power and weight, such steering accuracy allowed me to ride in a thoroughly mad way.

For all of three weeks when the front wheel's bearings went down. Sure enough, I cracked up the hub knocking them out - determined, as I was, not to give the breaker any more of my money. Some hope, he grinned widely after receiving forty quid for a replacement front wheel which came with a newish disc, calipers and pads. The old disc was just beginning to squeal in a menacingly manner, probably money well spent!

Of course, pissing around with the forks revealed that their seals were seeping oil. Had to take the forks down, put in new bushes and seals, added a set of gaiters. Finally, much poorer and only a little wiser, the chassis was fully sorted and the bike ready for the road... Someone up there doesn't like me, the original shocks started weeping oil as well and went very soggy! Used Koni's (yes, from the grinning breaker who was now proudly driving a big BMW cage) fixed that.

Oddly, the actual chassis components - petrol tank, mudguards, etc - were in fine fettle, perhaps replaced along the line as they certainly didn't seem to reflect the 49000 miles that were now on the clock. Neither did the engine, which veritably purred away with good heart, confounding my Superdream mounted mates with its toughness.

Note to the cynical and worldly wise - the wiring showed every sign of being redone some time in the near past, the switches were non-standard and the HT leads and caps rubber rather than plastic. Many XS owners find the electrics, especially the ignition circuit, both troubling and perplexing. Intermittent faults difficult to diagnose, often caused by the cut-out switches shorting out. If it hasn't already been done, take them out of the circuit! The Cibie headlamp conversion was just about up to modern standards, the air-horns a useful addition - wakes the cagers up, makes them think some artic's about to mash them! The odd jerk tried to run me off the road when he realised his mistake, but I was usually long gone. How I yearn for a police siren!

If life didn't start off all that well will the XS, the more I've used it, the longer I've owned it, the more fond of the little twin I've become. I do have some serious tackle as well - a street fighter FZR600 - that kills the traffic like nothing else, but that's often too much hassle to ride! Much easier to leap upon the 250 and bumble around town at a rapid pace - by the time I've undone the FZR's three locks, given it a few minutes to warm up and got the necessary body armour on, I'm usually half way to my destination on the XS! If the weather's dire it's much easier to ride as I don't have to think about taking a handful of throttle and costs at least half as much to run. Good one, Mr Yamaha!

Dave Wilson