A chance remark by a friend’s brother that her wife was selling her motorbike raised a flicker of interest. I feared it was a C90 or something of the ilk, which may be fine under certain circumstances, but not for my weekly Surrey to Weymouth trip.
Interest hardly increased when I heard it was a Yamaha 400. I once hired a XS400 - a bike more bland, boring and uninspiring I found it hard to visualize. On the return trip, with the world’s biggest hangover from beer and, er, other naughty things plus a powder that wasn’t Beechams, I can’t even remember Birkenham to Brum. AIthough I reached my destination without incident, I looked and felt like death’s big brother.
I digress, I was bikeless and even an XS was better than the bus. Then things started to look up when it was revealed that it was a two stroke, V registered, expansion chambered and was apparently bloody quick. It could only be a RD; I never even bothered to ask the price.
Some time later I was outside a garage in Woking. The bike was white with red stripes. This I could get to like. It burbled into life after a few kicks, blipping the throttle sent the rev counter needle racing clockwise whilst copious clouds of blue smoke spewed out. A quick helmetless trip up the alley and I was hooked. Three hundred quid without haggling and I was back on the road.
Looking back I can honestly say that the Micron expansion chambers were acutely offensive and, nowadays, I wouldn't entertain them, but at the time the banshee howl was music to my ears. The 400 was my first proper two stroke. Previously, I'd had a half share in a Vespa which I kept falling off, a '61 Mobylette - the least said about the better, and then the relative safety of a pair of four stroke Hondas.
That RD really did seem the business. Fast, light, good handling, comfortable and bloody thirsty - it could get through a gallon of petrol in 28 miles, but it was fun, in big red letters. It didn’t take long for the occupants of a Rover Jam-sandwich to track me down, thanks to those spannies. They wanted to know what speed I was doing, declared that the speedo didn’t work (never wind the mileometer back to zero if the speedo doesn’t work), the chain was loose, the brake light didn’t work and that there wasn't any tax.
In my defence, I stood on the brake pedal to show that the brake light did indeed work - they insisted I did it on the move, which locked up the rear wheel and almost made me fall off. After mucho kowtowing of the subservient forelock we reached an agreement, either I fixed it all or next time he stopped me he'd get me for everything and anything he could think of between now and then.
The next day I hit the local Yamaha dealer to pick up all the necessary bits and four spark plugs - with spannies and speed in mind I bought B9ES instead of the recommended B8ES. Yes, I know it’s a twin but extra plugs have their uses, as shall be revealed.
With all my purchases screwed, clipped, bolted and nailed into their respective places and a tax disc purchased and suitably displayed I was once more on the road. Only the power from the air cooled twin kept me a few mph the wrong side of the law. The spare plugs, plug brush, emery paper and plug spanner were thrust into my jacket pockets. The plugs oil very easily if cold or the K&Ns are sodden or if there's been any fog, frost or heavy rain, when no amount of kicking or bumping helps.
Even though the Yam had 17770 miles on the clock, it'd wheelie in the first two gears just by opening the throttle. Get the revs above 5000 and the world shoots by in reverse. I had great fun screaming about all over the place, life was worth living again and the bike was used more and more. By 18070 miles the bike refused to start, no spark to be had. Putting a screwdriver in the HT cap and kicking the bike gave not so much as a tingle. Something black, about the size of a cigarette packet stopped working. The nice dealer said oooh and aaah several times with a grin like a Cheshire cat with chronic constipation. The offending part was diagnosed and replaced in a week. One day later another black box went, overall result 170 quid on parts and no wheels for a good part of the summer of '83. Labour charges were extra as was transport to and from the dealers.
By 20000 miles the engine felt tired, even frantically stirring the six speed gearbox failed to regain the former urge. My friends asked me when it was last decoked - I just looked blank. They took it apart for me, then scraped, brushed and cleaned all the blackened bits. A job so easy, I could have done it myself had I known.
The performance was back in full, so much so that I had to fit some Metzelers to stop the rear end skating around. These tyres helped sharpen up the handling, although they took a long time to scrub in.
Things got a little weird when the rear frame loop collapsed. I could only find one from a RD350 and when this was bodged on it looked a little strange but only cost a fiver so I couldn't complain.
The single front disc was spongy but powerful, until Goodridge hose was fitted which got rid of most of the sponginess. I bought a set of Allspeeds to quieten down the motor, these changed the power delivery, maybe because I hadn’t changed the jets to suit...
Racing out of Portsmouth, with a wildly optimistic 115mph on the clock, I suddenly lost power. I assumed I was on reserve, flipped the lever, booted down a few gears and wound it on in third. It picked up power and then suddenly stopped.
A car pulled in behind me, he'd been flashing for a while and I thought plain clothes police. No, just a concerned citizen telling me my bike’s on fire! Burning petrol, from too large jets bunging excess fuel straight through the engine out into the exhaust, had sprayed over the luggage. The bike looked very sorry for itself, smouldering items were shoved down a drain and the bike taken to a friend’s garage.
I dismantled the RD, rebuilt it with proper jetting and oversize bores and pistons, some £250’s worth of parts and labour. I did the rebuild with a remarkable lack of knowledge but it still fired up after seven kicks. It had left the garage floor covered it oil - sorry about that, mate - but the bike was fine.
I'd bought a Honda CB900 whilst this was going on. Going back to the RD after the Honda put the Yam in proper perspective. Where I'd once thought the handling good, I now found it felt skittish, the forks were too soft and the bars too wide. But those weren't large problems and could be sorted with a bit of expenditure.
I was lucky, really, that my model was the well developed RD400E rather than one of the earlier bikes that are even more peaky and go through plugs like nobody’s business. Having said that, the choice between spending £170 to replace the electronic ignition or spending every other weekend adjusting the points, isn’t that hard to make, is it?
RD400s are nearly as reliable as Suzuki GT500s and don’t suffer so much from crank seals leaking and draining all the oil from the gearbox. Cosmetics on the Yamaha do suffer, and any bike that hasn’t had all the cosmetics renovated at least once by now will need it desperately. Engine life depends on how hard the bike’s been thrashed - it’s the kind of bike that does attract the thrashers - anything from 20000 to 45000 miles, but it’s such a simple engine to strip down, and there are so many bits available, that they can be rebuilt many times before they're totally out of the game. Anyone done 100000 miles yet?
After I'd rebuilt the Yamaha, I found I needed money to get married, so one of the bikes had to go - I sold the RD to a breaker for less than I'd spent on doing a rebuild. Paradoxically, in retrospect, I found that it was the bike I missed the most. Maybe time clouds over the bad points, but I recall rushing around country roads in rhythm with the wild yowl of the spannies, as one of life’s better experiences. Pity then that the RD400E is now getting labelled as a classic, the prices rising until those who would really enjoy them can’t afford to buy one. You may just still be able to pick up a good ‘un if you're lucky. Go for it.
Tim Jenks