I had this nagging suspicion that there was something I had forgotten to check when going over a nice 1977 GS750. I could not put my finger on it. I had even gotten down on my knees and put a screwdriver between my ear and the crankcase to check the main bearings... a pretty futile exercise as the roller bearing crankshaft is immensely tough and primary drive is by gear, but once I get started there’s no stopping me...
This was two years ago and the machine had supposedly done 22000 miles with just the one owner. In fact, it was the kind of secondhand buy you dream about. But still I was paranoid about handing over 850 notes which was the price demanded, no offers accepted. The vendor even looked honest, a roly poly chap just entering retirement rather than some callow youth about to buy a car.
I had seen about ten other bikes, all lame ducks at silly prices so there was no way I was going to pass this one up. Come what may. The deal was struck. Ten miles down the road I recalled what I should have checked. The GS series is notorious for wrecking its electrics. I had neglected to have a gander at the battery, rectifier/regulator and alternator to see if they were original and their connections not disturbed.
Sure enough, after about 30 miles the lights started to slowly fade away. 5 miles later they went out altogether and the four cylinder engine started to do a passable impression of a twin. I only had to push her the three miles home.
Turned out the alternator was so burnt out that the previous owner had completely disconnected it to stop all the fuses blowing. Of course, the wrecked alternator had also taken out the rectifier/regulator unit, burnt various bits of wire and had necessitated a 100 amp main fuse.
This was not so much a serious problem as an annoying one. Circuit tester in hand, I was able to sort out the wiring. The alternator was despatched in exchange for a rewound one (took three days to come) and a Superdream rectifier/regulator installed in place of the naff Suzuki item. It took about a week to put together at a cost of £65. I'm happy to say that since then there have been no further electrical problems, although for the first couple of months I was reluctant to go more than a few miles from home in case of a repeat performance.
The GS proved adequate to most of my motorcycling needs but not exceptional in any one area. It would cruise along the motorway at the ton with a subdued hum, but go any faster then vibes would intrude and the chassis weave about a bit. Country lanes it was able to hack after a fashion, enough torque available to leave the motor in third or fourth but needing a lot of muscle to flick from side to side.
Long distances, say 500 miles in a day, were not really encouraged by a combination of seat with flattened foam, silly riding position for high speed work (better for shades and being laid back) and secondary vibes that were insidious enough in nature to deaden hands and feet after about 150 miles. Also a chain that stretched as fast as you could adjust it did not add to the tourer charm.
Handling was generally neutral, favouring safety rather than suicide. Backing off the throttle when in trouble meant the machine tightened its line slightly making me feel like a brilliant rider whenever I hastily backed off the throttle just as I was about to run wide into oncoming traffic. They were probably pretty thankful, too.
On the other hand, the first few times I grabbed a load of the twin front discs in similar circumstances I nearly shat myself. The front wheel reared up towards the vertical like an innocent’s manhood in a Thai brothel, the machine suddenly possessed with a determination to run straight off the road. At such times the GS750’s 500lbs became all too apparent in the violent reaction of the suspension to my survival manoeuvres consisting of a series of lurches and changes of direction. Oh well, we all live and learn. The rear brake is OK to use when banked over.
The mass of the bike is also apparent when trying to haul the GS on to the centre stand. A precarious business involving putting all my weight on the stand’s prong whilst holding on to the back of the seat. Twinges quite often run up my spine from this manoeuvre. Just to add to the fun, under certain circumstances the sidestand lets loose and pivots the bike on to the tarmac... again those 500lbs are all too apparent and yet more twinges run right through my body. Bent indicators and levers are the usual result.
Several accidents have also added to the metal carnage in the last 25 months. The most memorable when the discs decided to pack up just as I needed them as an ambulance cut me up. There is probably not a more appropriate vehicle to crash into... but this one didn’t even bother to stop, just sped off leaving me rolling about on the hard shoulder. Bent bars, dented tank and a crushed exhaust resulted along with a sprained wrist on my part.
The discs are seventies crap, by the way. Prone to caliper seizure, wet weather lag and high speed fade they were the bane of my life, requiring much attention every 5000 miles, although pad life was good, around 13000 miles a set. When one of the discs started to crack up I carefully removed all the essential bits and spent a joyous few minutes beating the whole rotten trash into metal fillings with one of those long handled hammers used for demolishing houses. A set off a 650 Katana were persuaded on and were better on maintenance but pads only lasted about 6000 miles.
The chain was another nasty, quick stretch rubbish because the swinging arm was so long and mounted so far away from the engine sprocket which was itself tiny. Bloody amateur engineers, even the British had worked out the correct relationships in the fifties. Sprockets were also a cause for concern, pattern items that wore at an astonishing rate, a new sprocket and chain set needed every 5-7000 miles depending on how I abused the bike and lubricated the chain.
The fuel consumption was okay at 45 to 50mpg but after just over 35000 miles the petrol tank took to seeping out fuel at the back, neatly filling my crotch. Getting off the bike I looked like I had wet myself and smelt like I was heavily into meths. It was only a matter of time before the machine caught fire and took me out with it. No-one was willing to weld the petrol tank, for some reason, so I ended up buying a brand new one. They wanted almost as much again for the transfers, so I told them where to stick them!
The bike had looked very neat when I bought it but the more miles I did the more the appearance degenerated. Chrome fell off things like exhaust and mudguards. Paint fell off the frame and tank (until I replaced it). The engine was a mottled mess of furry white, dead alloy. By the time I'd done 40000 miles she resembled a perfect heap, the new petrol tank contrasting all the more with the rest of the machine.
The engine still ran fine but lacked the kind of power you’d expect to find in a Japanese four of this capacity. The valves never needed any adjustment and the carbs needed balancing every 3000 miles, this evidenced by a marked increase in the already noticeable secondary vibes. Oil was replenished every 1000 miles, but even after 50 grand hardly any was used between changes, oil leaks conspicuous by their absence. If the motor had never been stripped I would not be in the least bit surprised. As tough a motor as I'd ever come across.
Apart from this longevity I found the machine so bland and mediocre that I couldn’t be bothered to tart up the chassis. With 56060 miles done, I decided it was time to unload her on to someone more respectful of her potential classic status (enough bullshit to make you want to throw up). Even in its poor cosmetic state some sucker came up with 900 sovs which had me laughing all the way to the ownership of a rather nice GSXR750, which has both the kicks and longevity. That's the way of progress.
Stephen Grissman