Once upon a time I was the proud owner of a Suzuki GS1000E four. So impressed was I with this machine that I took it on a great trek to the Continent. I was, perhaps. pushing my luck. for my companions were mounted on CBR1000s and ZX10s. The upshot of such an alliance was when we were fair flying along a German autobahn. I had earlier been pleased with the way the big Suzuki rolled along at 100mph without an apparent concern in the world. Now it had to do 130mph to keep up with the plastic reptiles and that was rather a different story. The GS is a heavy beast and sits securely enough on the road. However, once past 110mph the suspension components begin to show their age and limitations.
Even with the springing and damping turned up as high as possible, it still started to waltz around a bit. The autobahn was pretty smooth, but even small bumps tend to get magnified at that kind of speed, so the GS definitely needed a full lane's worth of space to avoid hitting anything. My mates gave me a wide berth at speed.
There are two other problems at this kind of speed. Holding on to the bars. the handlebar fairing doesn't give that much protection, although as I'm short and broad it isn't as bad for me as someone who is taller. It gets very tiring very quickly and I kept casting envious glances at the relaxed postures my friends were able to maintain even at the insane speeds allowed by the teutonic disdain for speed limits. And the other problem was chronic secondary vibes. Below 7000rpm the Suzuki is not very rough, you're always aware that there's a very powerful engine rumbling away beneath you, which is more reassuring that worrying, but the nearer you get to the redline the more intrusive do the vibes become.
It hits the footrests first (in fact, pillions get it sooner and even worse than the pilot) and then the bars start to thrum as well. By the time the redline is in sight the petrol tank is humming away too. About 20 miles of full throttle audacity is the most I can take before my hands lose all feeling.
The Suzuki had reached a zenith of usability on French A roads, which were wide, fast and smooth. The GS1000 could be stuck in top gear and had enough grunt between 70 and 95mph to have the reptile pilots changing gears in a frenzy to keep up with the big bruiser. True, it sort of wallowed through corners in a way that looked so dangerous that it discouraged the others from trying to overtake, but my past experience with the bike assured me that it was not actually going to spit me off and the mean of all the various movements was going to be the actual course I had intended.
But back to the German autobahn. Can you picture the scene? There was I, holding on for dear life to a vibrating, wallowing beast of a motorcycle trying not to be too disconcerted by the way cars whizzed past and the thought of how the tarmac would tear off my full leathers if some mechanical failure occurred or Klaus in his big Merc fell asleep.
If I had been alone I would have happily slowed to a more I moderate pace, but I had my reputation to consider and felt unable to give in to the superior technology of my mates' machines. In the end I had little choice. The vibration suddenly increased to a frenzied level. I have never experienced double vision before and I don't want to ever again. Power started to disappear, and there was an urgent mechanical scream from the motor. I pulled in the clutch and used the remaining momentum of the machine to muscle my way through the forest of speeding autos to the hard shoulder. My friends sped off into the distance.
I listened to the ominious rumble as the engine ticked over unevenly. The oil light flickered on and off spasmodically. Even at low revs the vibes made it difficult to hold the handlebars There was nothing for it but to potter off slowly and try to make the next exit. It was two miles away and by the time the Suzuki rumbled up the slip road, waves of heat were coming up from the engine and I felt like I was in control of a particularly vicious pile-driver.
My companions were nowhere to be seen, which did not surprise me. At the speed they were travelling they would have covered the distance to the slip road in less then one minute and it was much more important to pay attention to forward motion than wonder if some old bugger on a GS could keep up. I looked at the map and found I was on a minor route to Munich, about six miles of winding roads would take me to a metropolis large enough to surely contain at least one Suzuki dealer.
What a trip. The bike refused to pull in any gear higher than second and would not go over 3000rpm. The slow speed of the GS taxed even the famed discipline of the German drivers, who came close to hitting me off a dozen or so times. I was a nervous wreck by the time I reached the city. At least I entered on the right side, for there before my tired eyes was a big Suzuki dealer. Who said all Germans could speak English. Not this lot, or at least they pretended ignorance at my request for help.
In the and another biker came to my aid. It was, by then, fairly obvious that the crankshaft was wrecked and my best hope of salvaging the beast was to get it back to England as cheaply as possible. As it happens, my brother had a pick-up truck in London, so this chap, the owner of a BMW R100RS, let me stay in his house, use his phone for free to urge brother to launch a rescue mission and provided me with a useful insight into the Munich night life scene during the three days I had to wait for the pick-up truck to arrive. He refused all offers of money, but at least he has since stayed in London with me and given me a chance to pay back some of the debt. Every cloud...
Back in Blighty I didn't even bother to strip the motor down. My brother had already located a crashed GS1000E which was so mangled it took a hacksaw to the frame to free the motor which featured a cracked lower crankcase. chipped fins and a hole in the alternator casing. Tearing off various bits of the old engine ensured that I soon had a working motor again.
The original engine had run for 42500 miles, 17450 miles of which had been under my own abuse. My maintenance had been meticulous, if anything over-zealous, so I was more then disappointed that the crankshaft had failed at such a low mileage. The rebuilt bike went and vibrated pretty much the same as the original one, although the clock of the crashed machine showed 62000 miles. I confined myself to town commuting for the next 5000 miles and was not inspired to plan any great trips.
My mates on the plastic reptiles were very amused when I related the self destruction of the GS; they had done 3000 miles in all with nary a moment's worry. Just like the GS1000, after that kind of mileage, pads and tyres were in a bad way and the oil was in desperate need of changing, although they could do 10mpg better than the 35mpg I averaged on the ageing Suzuki.
In town I found the GS great for scaring the shit out of slow drivers but too wide for charging through gaps. Its mass was of no great concern to me. I am well built and muscular enough to throw the bike around, although I can well imagine that anyone weighing less than 12 stone would not be very amused by the machine.
Other problems I had with the Suzuki were an original exhaust system that fell to pieces thanks to it rusting from the inside out. Steering head bearings that needed constant attention. Fork seals that would only last 3500 miles. I was surprised that the disc brakes and calipers gave no problems, save for pad wear, and that the electrics worked perfectly.
Until the embarrassing failure of the crankshaft I had taken great pride in owning the GS1000E. I thought that it looked great, went well and was the epitome of Japanese air cooled four cylinder technology. After the autobahn incident I became less and less interested in the machine, I hardly ever cleaned or polished it, and felt no great urge to ride it other than for commuting to work.
After nine months I decided it had to go. one of my mates with a CBR1000 was getting married and let me take the machine off his hands at a bargain price. It took only 100 miles on the newer machine to realise what I had been missing!
Adrian Lane