The usual hustle and bustle to find another motorcycle. MCN, Bike Trader
and the local rag all consulted in the search for that elusive bargain.
I even got so desperate I popped along to the one remaining large dealership
in Newport. Could buy imported new stuff cheaper than their secondhand stuff
- still, it passed the time in a convivial way, if you have a sense of humour.
After nearly ruining my eyes on the small print in MCN my attention was
caught by a GSX400 import at 1200 notes. The usual stuff, low miles, excellent
nick, only used for three months in the UK...but it was in Gwent.
Much to my surprise the glowing terms applied to the four cylinder Suzuki
weren't a pack of lies. Except for the plastic OE Jap tyres I couldn't find
anything wrong with the 16000 kilometre machine. The test ride revealed
it needed loads of revs to get anywhere fast but I was used to that with
my previous mount, a GPz305 - lovely little thing until complete engine
melt-down and chassis disintegration just as the mileometer clicked on to
forty thou. After some haggling over the rubber, it was mine for a thousand
notes.
Up to 70mph, acceleration wasn't any harsher than the GPz but from there
onwards there was a much improved violence in velocity gained, the speedo
clicking all the way up to 120mph! It stopped dead at this speed, only slowly
creeping around to 125mph. At this point I thought the M4 mid-afternoon
wasn't the safest of places to speed test a motorcycle. An unlikely armada
of fast pursuit vehicles, look-outs on bridges, cameras and helicopters
all trying to justify their existence.
I hadn't tried the back roads between Cardiff and Newport for a couple
of years - just a car wide, they twisted back and forth on themselves and
used to be fun on a learner. Imagine my shock when I rode into a massive
traffic jam - a plague of housing estates meant it had become a trendy short
cut between the two cities. Stupid prats! They were so irate at having to
slow down for each other to pass that they tried to run me off the road!
I got out of there with everything except my pride intact.
I had time to figure out that the Suzuki was a bit more of a handful
than the flyweight Kawasaki in those kind of tight curves but that it also
shook about less over the pot-holed road surface. Comfort was far better
as I'm a bit wide across the arse for the beanpole GPz and high speeds lacked
the buzz put out by the madly revving little twin...turbine smooth being
an understatement for the four cylinder Suzuki. At the end of the first
day's ownership I was well pleased with my purchase.
There's always a slight sense of dread on the next day - had the bargain
of the week turned out to be a disaster waiting to happen? Would the suspiciously
new looking electrics and battery play up? I hit the choke and the starter
button, the engine exploded into life immediately and settled down to a
nice tickover rustle. I surveyed the controls before me, smiled widely,
turned the choke off and set out for work.
A vicious clanging noise stopped us dead. You stupid f..king idiot, thought
I. The U-Lock I'd forgotten to remove making its presence felt! I peered
at the cast front wheel, but it hadn't cracked up on me. It was at this
point, perception widened by fear, that I noticed that the caliper's bleed
nipples were missing, replaced by what looked like brazing rod. Not the
kind of thing expected on a low miler. I ran my fingers down the forks,
convinced myself there was a bit of bumpiness where they'd been straightened!
A scenario ran through my mind - the bike was low mileage but had, in
the past, suffered crash damage. Slow and careful was my progress into work
that day, expecting the front end to drop off and crack up at any moment.
Coming home, I shrugged off the paranoia and let rip - if I was going to
die, I was going to die. I made it home in one piece, with the obligatory
grin. There weren't any real signs of poor handling once on the road, and
even the brakes managed to combine fierceness with smoothness. When was
the last time you changed the brake fluid? No problem, huh?
Good news was found in the low running costs - fuel at 65-70mpg, tyres
went for over 12000 miles on decent Avons, the O-ring chain rarely needed
attention and the disc pads did a reasonable 7500 miles. Reasonable insofar
as I braked heavily, did the good old cut and thrust, through my favourite
A-roads, where the bike's lack of mass and good high revs kicks were much
appreciated. For such a small, old-tech, engine it would also waltz along
at unlikely speeds on the motorway, quite happy at 120mph for as long as
I thought my licence would last - not long in South Wales. Apart from the
minor fact that the acceleration failed to knock my eyeballs through the
back of my head, I couldn't see the need for anything faster.
Until I hit the German autobahns, some of the Merc's making me seem like
I was going backwards. I can report that a GSX400 strung flat out for half
an hour will put 130mph on the clock and finally emit a little bit of buzzing.
The front end also goes a bit loose, with the feeling that a slippery surface
and a bend would have us off. The disturbing thing was that I soon got used
to such excessive velocities (by UK standards, anyway) and was panting for
more and more... not helped any when a trio of CBR900's blew past at what
looked like 195mph! My consolation prize was much better comfort and protection;
the half fairing being something of a miracle worker as speed increased.
Though pushed, I was impressed with the way the Suzuki managed to deal with
the autobahns.
The French roads were next on the menu. Amazingly deserted and wide once
off the autoroutes which were a bit too like killing fields. Loads of bends,
a heavy sun and a lack of mad cagers; what more do you want? A bike that
didn't suddenly refuse to start, would've been nice. It ground away on the
starter in some French village, the peasants turning out in force to watch
the Anglais pig grow increasingly foul mouthed. It wasn't the GSX's fault,
some sod had swapped the HT leads over! By then the battery was almost dead
so I nearly killed myself with a bump-start - not the weight of thing but
those dragging discs.
Overall, though, the bike was definitely a winner, taking things much
further than its capacity, looks and design might suggest. The more miles
you do on such a machine the better it becomes, the more the joy and love
shines through. I know it's only a bloody motorcycle but riding through
strange lands at improbable speeds, it was like I was on a magic carpet,
transported to another realm where I was the centre of the universe rather
than an oily oik! Good kicks.
Ralp Larriter