Things began to unravel the next day when I took the wife for a run. I was going to show her what a clever boy I'd been to buy such a bargain all on my own. Dream on! We must've had a combined mass of 22 stone. That was enough to have the shock down on its stop. The back end wagged like the tail of a dog who was about to be fed a meaty bone. I pulled over.
Up on the centrestand, adjust the rear shock’s preload (the only suspension adjustment on the bike). I wasn't sure which way to turn it, but assumed that it was on its softest setting, so cranked the adjuster right the way around. When we got back on the tyre was dragging on the mudguard. Back off again, turn it the other way which just got us back where we started. It really wasn't rideable at speeds in excess of 30mph, which needed third gear.
Taller gears and lower revs just left the chain trying to leap off the sprockets. By the time we returned home the wife was calling me all the names under the sun. Thinking about all the furniture she could've bought with the loot.
The engine was a grouchy old bugger below 6000 revs. Popping in the silencers, feeling rather strained and buzzing the handlebars. The riding position and the seat were better than anything else I'd come across. A comfortable stance with no bodily contortions needed. The saddle well shaped and near enough to the ground for this 5'9” rider to feel secure. The gearbox clanged rather than changed for half of the time. I often found false neutrals.
The engine had a cammy feel from 6500 revs on, quite a lot of power pouring in but there was also some heavy vibration, especially once past 9000 revs. The engine has a gear driven balancer and pistons that move up and down alternatively. Despite being water-cooled it's not a heavy bike at 380lbs and the 16" tyres made for snappy changes of direction.
Ridden solo I was not that unhappy with the machine. A replacement shock varied in price from £80 to £400 depending on make. No chance of spending that kind of dosh. Despite the earlier humiliation, the wife wouldn't let me wander around solo. The solution was a used shock at £25 from a breaker. Whilst pulling the old one out I noticed that the Uni-trak bearings were loose. No grease on the spindles which were pitted and scored. I ended up buying the ones from the crashed bike.
With the rebuilt back end I expected the handling to be transformed. To be fair, the GPz wasn't bad solo. Could be heeled right over and didn’t react adversely to bumpy roads. The front end wasn't very precise and the bike would wander off line if I didn't pay it complete attention. Ogling some barely clad frail whilst roaring through town, I looked up to find that the Kawasaki had wandered over to the wrong side of the road. If I hadn't had a hard-on I would've pissed myself. Quick reactions and a willing chassis saved me from playing a terminal game of chicken with a well built if ancient Hillman Hunter.
Two-up, the rear shock compressed, leaving sod all clearance. The stand prongs and exhausts would grind away, threatening to catch in the road. The wife was soon digging me in the ribs and screaming abuse, as I got the engine into the power and tried to wing it through the curves. The resulting series of lurches seemed to unnerve her. On a smooth road the bike would cruise at up to 80mph without too much rolling around. Any greater speed had the bars trying to knock back and forth between their stops.
What really turned the wife against the bike was wet weather. The curvaceous half fairing, that'd been resprayed usefully in bright white, took off a surprising amount of the water... then swirled it around my back into the nearest and dearest’s face and lap. That put her in a foul mood which quickly became rabid when I had to brake harshly whilst banked over in a roundabout.
Some snivelling wimp in a cage had cut across my bows as if I had no right there. The front wheel locked as the single disc gripped, the tyre sliding away from the bike. The worn Dunlop had no chance of retaining its grip on the greasy road surface. The GPz slid down the road, wife and I sailing off in unison, inheriting the bike’s 20mph velocity.
Our dignity was hurt much more than our bodies or even the bike. The wife had an excess of flesh to protect her and I had my motorcycle gear. I was up before the bike had come to a halt on the grass. The wife looked like a beached whale, on her back waving her limbs all over the shop. I raced to pick up the GPZ before it lost all its fuel and had a chance to explode.
All the way home I had to suffer the same mantra: “You did that on purpose, you did that..." As if I'd risk the GPz in such a way. Damage was slight, a bent brake lever and cracked indicator; nothing I couldn’t fix myself. The next day I fitted a nice new set of Michelins, not amused by the Dunlops that had let loose without any warning. Tyres for this bike are quite rare because of their weird sections. By the way, if you take the front wheel out whilst the bike is on the centrestand it'll fall on to the forks and then pitch over sideways!
The GPz is one of those modern bikes without a kickstart. It always came to life easily on the starter if the correct technique was applied on the choke lever. Pull fully on, hit the button, then take it right back and quickly pull it back towards the mid position until the engine caught. Don't ask me why this worked but it did, a useful trick passed down from the previous owner.
What he failed to mention was that the electrical system was churning out so much power it was easy to boil off half the battery’s acid in a hundred mile jaunt. The first time this happened the bike wouldn't churn over on the starter and the wife had to be coerced into giving a push. The battery looked like it might've come with the bike but as long as it was fed a constant diet of distilled water didn't seem to mind its age.
The front light was a revelation. Actually being able to cruise down country lanes at 60mph without straining my eyes was marvellous, although the dipswitch was far from naturally positioned and I kept forgetting which way to push it. Putting a pillion on the back had it pointing skywards... the bike just didn't seem set up for two-up riding. The push to cancel indicator switch was particularly neat, although the centrally mounted ignition switch would sometimes switch off the lights but keep the engine running. Age had made the key such a loose fit it could pop out as I was riding along.
After about a month of neglect I found that the whole bike was afflicted with a layer of corrosion. The weather had not even been that bad. I should've known better, having been to see a couple of GPz500s that looked 20 rather than 5 years old; a clean bike a sure sign of a well looked after machine. I cleaned all the rust and rot off, using a toothbrush on the screw heads and some black paint on the motor. After the next bout of rain it was as if I hadn't touched the machine, the corrosion back in full force. Incredible.
Things weren't helped by all the oil chucked off the back chain. The GPz came with a tough O-ring chain as original equipment but mine was fitted with some quick wear rubbish that needing a daily coating of lubricant which it promptly threw off over the back of the bike and the wife if she happened to be on the pillion perch. The sprockets were worn as well, so after the adjusters were at the end of their slots I decided to invest in a O-ring chain and some new sprockets. This consisted of a bigger gearbox and smaller wheel sprocket, as well as a new length of chain.
The taller gearing helped give the GPz a much more relaxed feel but made less than 40mph in fourth, never mind fifth or sixth, gear seem very nasty, the transmission jumping about and making BMW boxer type noises. Two up the acceleration had become very slug-like unless I really caned the mill into red. Not something I wanted to do to an engine that had a very rattly motor, much amplified by the plastic fairing.
The bike has some neat touches. An air fiter that can be cleaned with an air-hose and reused. And the eight valves use screw and locknut adjusters. Apart from oil and filter (extortionately priced and of different type depending on the model) there wasn’t anything else to do to the engine. The valves were very difficult to get at and only one of them needed any adjustment. The carbs seem to stay in balance regardless of the mileage. I put in some new plugs whilst I had the tank off as I didn't fancy tearing the bike apart by the roadside if they ever failed. They are pathetically difficult to access.
The top end rattle persisted, becoming quite frenzied by the time I had pushed the clock past 60000 miles (the speedo cable broke twice, by the way). A new camchain seemed to be in order, about a hundred quid including fitting. It was done in the frame with the new one attached to the end of the old one until it was threaded through the engine. It was then riveted in situ. Not the kind of job to entrust to the average gorilla. The engine was a lot quieter but still noisy. It wasn't any faster nor any more economical (45 to 50mpg) although the tank gave a range of close to 200 miles.
The next 8000 miles went by with quite a lot of fun, the wife having decided it was safer to stay at home, gorging on soap operas and boxes of chocolates. I'd bought a fork brace and some heavier springs for the front forks. As there was only one disc and the bushes were a bit worn the brace stopped a lot of the twisting I'd been experiencing. The heavier springs handled the brake dive from the still excellent disc brake (backed up by an adequate rear drum) but gave the front end a rather harsh ride. By then the rear shock had become very weak again, so some handling queasiness was present even when solo. In its way it was quite good as it limited the amount of abuse I was willing to inflict on the motor.
The engine was never really arm wrenchingly powerful, but it had a bit of character with none of the blandness of some of its rivals and a piercing exhaust note when on cam. The silencers were threatening to fall off by then (but if they were original, seven years and 70000 miles ain't bad) and the engine was running poorly above 7000 revs as well as below it. As the cold weather descended it took to stalling dead as if protesting at its continued use. Not starting again until I'd done five minutes on the starter (and, yes, judging by the excess plumbing around the carbs it had received the necessary mods to ward off the carb-icing for which early water-cooled Kawasakis were famous). Together with the degenerate appearance the bike was approaching rat status.
It didn’t stop me persuading the wife on to the back, a rare visit to her mother, a sort of heavier and louder version of Les Dawson in drag. Someone up there must love me because five minutes into the journey the temperature gauge was heading for the red and the motor seemed to be really straining against the mass it was suddenly forced to carry. The coolant sounded like it was bubbling. I switched off the motor, it going dead with a loud clunk. Ten minutes later, when the gauge was out of the red the bike wouldn't turn on the starter. The horn sounded loud and clear so the battery was okay. The thing had seized solid.
It would be easy to conclude that the GPz500S is a piece of overrated crap. I've tried a newish bike, though, and it was much nearer to what I'd expected, although the suspension still couldn't take two-up riding. Apart from detail changes it hasn't, until recently, been uprated since its introduction. Giving the engine the benefit of the doubt, it needs upgraded suspension, and a much better build quality. I really don't think I'd buy another, not even a nearly new one. Not unless I leave the wife...
Dave Kettering