It went against the grain to buy a two stroke. Even more so one that had obviously been thrashed and neglected by the past owner, a spotty youth who kept telling me that it was worth a lot more than the £200 he wanted. Like hell, with clip-ons, large alloy tank and expansion chambers, all old and corroded or dented, it stunk to high heaven of ineptitude and back yard maintenance with the largest hammer available.
I had a ride. Came back, my head buzzing angrily from the din, coughing from the blue haze that settled over the machine, but impressed despite myself that such an old bouncer could still muster grin inducing acceleration. I offered a ton, we settled on £125, the owner petulantly repeating that it must be worth five times that amount until he was drowned out by the cackle of the exhausts (I could not bring myself to call them silencers). I was not too worried about the cafe racer appearance. | had already bought one old and dead GT500 for fifty notes that had all the necessary bits to convert the bike back to stock. Just as well, after the sixty mile ride home my back was in agony, my head felt like someone had been tapping it with a hammer and my wrists were badly swollen from the excess pressure placed upon them by the absurd riding position.
It was but a days work to tear off all the unwanted bits, replace them with the standard items and find myself the proud possessor of a relatively conventional two stroke twin. This was more like it. The stock silencers emitted what seemed like a gentle burble after the previous banshee wail and my body bathed in the relief of an upright riding position. The overall appearance of the Suzuki was verging on the rat-like but I could fix that the next weekend. For the moment, I was content to enjoy the joys of stroker life. The least endearing was the way both rider and machine were engulfed in a heavy fog every time we rolled to a stop.
Don‘t stop, I told myself. The GT would do an indicated 95mph without too much bother, but refused to do any more however much I wrenched on the throttle in the lower gears. The thick cloud the machine left in its wake bode ill for ultimate engine life, but the lack of vibes convinced me that there could be little that was seriously wrong with the Suzuki.
How naive can you get? It was the old GT500 story. The main bearing seals were shot, pulling in vast quantities of oil from the gearbox. I caught on to the act in time to save the gearbox from destruction but was dismayed to find that the spare engine had suffered the same fate when | peered into its murky depths.
The price of stroker infamy rapidly shot up, £95 poorer for an exchange crankshaft, two weeks later we were back on the road. The blue haze had diminished to an acceptable level, no more did irate cagers poke their heads out of windows, retching whilst trying to scream abuse at me. Top speed, strangely, was down to 89mph, although acceleration and smoothness were as good as ever.
The bike came with stiff Girling shocks out back and front forks so infested with washers that they hardly moved even over the most vicious of bumps. Tyres were run of the mill Venoms, OK in the dry but with a dangerous feel in the wet. The front disc was perilous in the wet and lacked power in the dry. The rear drum was a total bastard, refusing to do anything for most of the time then locking on solidly so suddenly and viciously that the first time it happened I pulled in the clutch thinking the engine had seized! These elements combined to make every ride on the Suzuki something of an adventure. The engine proved steadfast in its reliability, so I had few qualms about doing a couple of hundred miles a day.
Motorways were mostly avoided, A roads were my favourite playground. I needed a bit more room than B roads provided to viciously fling the GT around, a firm grip on the bars and totally ignoring the weaves and wobbles being the best way of crowding the machine through fast curves.
Straight line stability left a lot to be desired and would probably cause a plastic missile rider to throw up, but never became really vicious. An adequate tubular frame (that showed no signs of being bent), conservative geometry and quaintly large wheels saw to that. Despite these old fashioned virtues and over 400lbs of mass, the bike was light enough to throw through sharp bends without threatening muscle rupture. It was just the way the wheels bounced around that was a bit worrying.
Another peculiar trait of the Suzuki was the way it would suddenly go on to reserve, killing the engine stone dead. It did not help that the reserve position no longer functioned. Several time I was left for dead in fast moving traffic, only avoiding death by pulling in the clutch and freewheeling with the horn on, in front of vehicles which must have burnt off a month’s supply of brake material in pulling up so rapidly. I soon learnt to keep an eagle eye on the mileometer; so that more petrol could be bought before the dreaded act could be repeated, the bike doing between 35 and 40mpg. When the speedo cable broke life was made especially interesting.
In two years I did 22500 miles of such fun filled motorcycling, gradually bringing the machine up to an immaculate cosmetic standard. In that time, apart from routine maintenance, I did not have to touch the engine. Incredibly impressive for a machine that was so cheap it was surely ready for the scrapyard! The total mileage on the mileometer reads, as I write this, 87564. As far as I can ascertain, most of the engine components, save for the crank, are still original. As the machine has had no less than nine owners this must say something about the basic toughness of the unit.
I eventually had to upgrade the brakes. This became more urgent when the back wheel bearings went. I decided that a nice set of alloy rims would be in order. Taking the opportunity to have the drum re-skimmed and the front disc, caliper and master cylinder replaced with items off a GS550. Braking was not exactly transformed but the rear now works after a fashion and the front has some power and functions in a predictable manner in the wet. Pads and shoes have so far lasted 9500 miles.
A new fuel tap was bought, the petrol tank protested by cracking around the old one when I tried to remove it. A few taps of the underside with my hammer revealed large areas that had all but rusted through. I thanked god that it had not broken up whilst I was in motion. A new one was ordered and duly fitted when it arrived two months later, the alloy one being used meantime. Problems with the electrics eventually led to a complete rewire. I had little choice in the matter as when I started poking into the wires the insulation began falling off. The front light doubled in intensity after that (though still poor by modern standards) and starting was a mild first kick affair even in the worst conditions. The poor state of the wiring explained why the batteries only lasted for six months.
That's about it really. Old bikes always have minor problems that need attention but the good ones will get you home come what may. I've never fallen off the GT despite its lack of precise handling, probably because I'm always aware of its limitations the way it bounces around there isn’t much choice in the matter.
I've ended up with a splendid looking machine that runs in a most pleasant manner and has cost just under £500 in total. I've been offered £1250 for her already, but I am more than happy with the way the GT performs and don‘t really want to go through the same hassles to get another machine into a similar state. I've just completed an engine rebuild of the spare motor using a mixture of secondhand and new spares, so when the old dear does eventually require serious attention I shall not be off the road for more than a weekend.
Alain Summers
The worst fuel consumption I ever managed from my Kawasaki H1E was 14mpg! Incredible as it might seem, I didn't really mind. The ride had been absolutely exhilarating. Thrashing the bike for all it was worth up and down a series of small hills. Throwing the machine off the crest of each, the whole chassis giving a huge twitch as it lost contact with mother earth. Charging along in the lower gears with the front wheel up in the air and that tremendous accelerative surge when the wailing triple hit its power band.
More normally, 20 to 25mpg could be expected. On the odd occasion as much as 30mpg was achieved. The bike was difficult to ride slowly. Not just that its power delivery was so addictive, slow running caused both the plugs and the silencers to clog up.
Engine noise, a series of annoying rattling, slapping and ringing sounds that made you think the end was nigh (it wasn't, they sound like that from new), overcame the exhaust note at low revs, the discordant row echoing about in my crash helmet as if it was made out of steel and someone was using it to bounce ball bearings off.
The delicious wail did not really appear until 5000 revs were up, which coincided with a startling diminution of vibration. The engine noises lost to the wind and exhaust howl, the engine as smooth as silk and the power flowing like nothing else I've had the pleasure of experiencing.
The sharpness of this power is shown up after playing around with the induction system. It takes very little to knock the edge off it, leaving the engine recalcitrant, backfiring and ever so slow. Despite repeated attempts at becoming one of the boys, there was no way I could get a set of K&N air filters to work with the engine however many jet combinations I tried. Kawasaki knew what they were doing and it was beyond my abilities to improve upon their induction system.
This should be borne in mind when looking at a bike for sale - stock is best. Which goes for the silencers as well, you won't achieve better performance and you’ll ruin the absolutely delightful wail after five grand. However, such are youth's efforts at improving the appearance of these delicious triples that few are available in stock condition. The best that can be hoped for is that they will throw in the old components which can then be fitted after purchase.
The H1E is not just famous for its massive, 60hp dollop of power. It’s also famous for preferring to run off the road rather than go around corners. It goes without saying that almost every bike by now will have better shocks and uprated forks. Put it this way, if they haven’t been improved the chances are they ended up a tangled mess of steel and alloy!
Not that mere suspension changes are sufficient to cure the triple of its head shaking, speed wobbles and apparent inherent twitchiness. A lot of this can be successfully reduced by, fitting a decent steering damper, tightened up so the bars can just be turned under reasonable pressure. Avon Roadrunners work well with the chassis, or as well as any tyres can be expected to work in the H1E environment.
Even after these mods I was not happy with my machine. Backing off the throttle in bends still produced a chassis with a passing resemblance to a crocodile threshing about in death throes. I stripped all the stuff off the frame and persuaded a friend that it would be a good idea if he spent an afternoon bracing the steering head and swinging arm with some thick steel plate. By the time he had finished he had probably doubled the weight of the flimsy frame but it seemed to work. Much improved stability was noticed under the extreme manoeuvres often necessitated by the sudden application of massive power to the back wheel.
Which brings me neatly enough to wet weather riding. The quick and simple answer to that one is don't ride a H1E in the wet. However, I’ve never been one to take good advice, if I had I would probably have a safe job and nice car instead of the H1E. There are several problems about riding in the rain. Not least the fact that the engine often turns into a twin or a single. This amplifies the power effect. Struggling along on maximum throttle on a 167cc single I'd suddenly find it's switched on to a full triple with a tyre shredding dose of power suddenly hitting the wheel. The feeling of extreme panic overtakes as the back wheel hurls around to meet the front. Hurried closing of the throttle leaves the Kawasaki all over the place, snaking around in full suicide mode.
I have fallen off the bike several times. Fitment of crash bars around the lower engine is compulsory unless you want to pay out for a new crankshaft. A tough item, by the way, that unless run with no oil should last a good 40000 miles. A lot more than can be said for the pistons and bores which are lucky to survive a quarter of that. Don't ask me how I know. Please! Other niceties includes brakes that refuse to work in the wet and chrome that turns to instant rust. Oh well, I never expected perfection!
Another small idiosyncrasy of the Quack is the way, when hurtling along without a care in the world, the aged, rotted wiring will suddenly decide to ignite. The first time it happened I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t just that there was this strong smell of burning, the wires to the ignition were affected. Having the motor turn itself off just as I wanted to cut up in front of a huge lorry was a bit trying. The lorry driver was very understanding, he slowed down with me, leaving me in the wrong lane suddenly plunged into playing chicken with cars coming the other way.
I will admit I was thinking about trading in the bike for something newer at that time, so I should have expected some form of revenge. The Kawasaki did not turn itself into a raging inferno, much to my distress. I tried to explain what had happened to the bike as I helped this ancient pensioner out of his Marina. It was the least I could do, to avoid knocking me off he had run off the road into a stone wall and written off the nearside of his car. The lorry had naturally disappeared up the road, the driver probably drinking out on the tale for the rest of the week.
The other electrical problem is the CDI unit which in triple circles is famous for blowing up. These items are, like, extremely expensive and impossible to find in breakers (at least in working order). There is no known solution but life can be extended by making sure all the connections are perfectly clean and mounting the black box on about twenty layers of rubber. The first time it went was the usual miles from nowhere trick. I’m sure the evil bitch enjoyed herself immensely watching me push her six miles before I came across a phone box and aid could be summoned. The second time it was in the middle of London traffic. I had to push her through three lanes of absolutely psychotic, crazy, homicidal cagers before the safety of the pavement could be gained. Bloody bitch.
The other trick is to blow the cylinder head gaskets. There are three of these to chose from, they usually last about 4 to 5000 miles a throw. The bike is still rideable with a blown gasket if you can accept all the oil that's blown out, the sluggardly performance and the fact that the extra strain on the other cylinders usually causes their gaskets to blow as well. I carry a spare set of head gaskets, it's not a long job to whip off the cylinder heads, as long as you don't wreck a stud, as has sometimes happened in the past. Several boxes of spark plugs are also carried as these have been known to last less than 500 miles! As well as a full set of bulbs, which blow because of the vibes.
Running one of these triples is a quick way to go bankrupt. Fuel, tyres, chains, pads, plugs, gaskets, electrics, etc all require a frequent infusion of cash. I bought the bike for £600 five years ago and it's worth at least twice that now, so it hasn’t all been a nightmare. They start easily, run wickedly and sound gorgeous. I am going to buy a modern bike but will probably keep the H1 for sunny afternoons when I want to do nothing more than experience the glorious power rush. H1E really spells FUN, in foot high letters. And damn the cost!
N. K. L. M.
Most UMG stories on the Yamaha SR500 are full of mechanical horrors and even mention many chassis problems. I have owned my 1980 example from new and have done to date 62738 miles. The bike is still on the original piston, bore, crankshaft, camshaft and gearbox. I did put in a new set of piston rings at 38000 miles, when I took the opportunity to re-seat the valves, fit new rockers and a camchain.
The engine was ridiculously easy to work on, apart from a few bolts that stripped their threads and had to be helicoiled. I put the good shape of the engine down to two things. I changed the oil every 750 miles and live out in the country, so the minimum journey I do on the SR is 8 miles. I also do a proper engine service every time I change the oil, again very straightforward.
The chassis, I must admit, did start to decay alarmingly after the first five years, despite the large amount of tender loving car expended on it each weekend. In six months she was in a terrible state, shedding chrome and paint like there was no tomorrow. Over that winter I took her down to the frame, blasted off all the crud and had most of the cycle parts nylon coated. As I had already fitted rubber gaiters to the forks they were saved from the usual pitting.
The refurbished chassis has not shown any signs of a repeat performance. The same could not be said for things like wheel bearings (every 9000 miles) or swinging arm bearings (every 6500 miles). The steering head bearings do about 18000 miles. When any of these bearings exhibit the slightest sign of wear the chassis throws a massive wobbly. You either fix it fast or end up being scraped off the tarmac. Why they should suffer such short bearing life, even when I regularly grease them up, doesn’t make any sense to me. But there you go.
The engine is not very powerful. Even if it were able to rev high and fast, the vibes once past 6000rpm would dissuade you from such indulgence. I rarely cruised the bike above 75mph, although I have had the ton on the clock on a few occasions. As I don’t like motorways this is no great loss. Vibration is present at most revs, but in the lower range is the sort of background buzz that lets you know the engine is working whilst not causing bits to fall off or fracture.
Unfortunately, the engine does not have the great gobs of torque associated with big British singles and really needs 5000rpm or above to motor. This effectively gives a 1000rpm power band if reasonable acceleration is needed. The motor will run down to 35mph in fifth if you've a mind to, but pulls extremely slowly from there on. Opening the throttle rapidly just gasses the motor up.
One curious aspect of the SR motor is its two stroke like need for spark plugs. You know when one is needed because it'll refuse to start. The engine needs a big lunge on the kickstart at the best of times. I've never managed a first kick start from cold. Sometimes it’ll fire up on the second kick, other times on the 22nd. It can be exhausting. If any component in the induction or ignition system is not up to scratch it will refuse to start until that component is rectified or replaced. Starting on a hot engine is usually a first kick affair.
Starting became really difficult after the fourth year. I replaced just about everything I could think of, trying to trace an intermittent fault. I had noticed that after I banged the bars in sheer frustration a few times the motor would suddenly agree to fire up once prodded. This led me to examine the kill switch, which was all corroded and evidently shorting out in some manner. Once this was removed from the circuit starting went back to normality.
Batteries were another source of irritation. Cheap ones lasted for less than six months, expensive ones for 12 to 18 months. I tried extra layers of rubber mounting but it did not aid longevity. A new regulator and rectifier unit off a Honda helped for a while until it exploded into flames. I put on the old components, deciding that poor battery life was a better bet than setting fire to the Yamaha. I suffered none of the ignition problems that have been reported on this model, perhaps because I never rode the bike for long in the heavy vibration sector.
The biggest fault with the bike was the front disc brake. I must admit I am used to drum brakes and biased in their favour. I actually expect brakes to last for 15 to 20000 miles before needing any attention other than the odd bit of adjustment. Imagine my horror, then, when I discovered that the SR’s caliper was prone to seizure every 4500 miles and that even when in good fettle didn't want to work in the wet. Even in the dry, the brake was only just capable of pulling up the SR from the modest speeds I employed.
I thought I had the solution when an acquaintance blew up an XBR500 (at a mere 34000 miles). I put on his front end. For a few months I enjoyed brilliant stopping power, plenty of feel and it worked as well as the best drum in the wet. It soon started making weird twanging noises which turned out to be the disc rapidly thinning down to an unacceptable level. How ridiculous can you get? I was forced to put the old SR front end back on. What a let down!
Even with the poor brakes, I never fell off the SR. I ride in a restrained manner, always aware of what is going on around me. I have been doing this for the past thirty years to good effect and much inner enjoyment. I found the Yamaha, once the suspension was suitably modified, to be a taut little runabout with the kind of sure-footed feel that will readily be familiar to any owner of a British middleweight.
This is complemented by my choice of tyres, Avon Venoms, which are cheap, last well (12000 to 14500 miles) and grip the road with a reassuring tenacity. In a similar British vein the bike now sports a neat Goldie silencer, although the lack of chrome on the downpipe detracts from the overall appearance of the system.
For the first couple of years I suffered from horrendous chain wear. 5-6000 miles a throw and inconveniently frequent oiling and adjustment intervals. The back end was always awash with oil thrown off the chain. In a fit of pique I set about making my own chainguard, using an old CD175 item I happened to have laying around. I cut this up and modified it to fit the SR. Then used that as a mould for GRP. Much sanding, filling and painting later saw the emergence of a deep black full chain enclosure. The engine breather was directed into the case, so I never had to worry about oiling.
All this hard work improved chain life to about 12000 miles. With the bit between my teeth, I had some sprockets made up to take an O-ring chain. That was more like it... 22000 miles! This was about the same as a cheapo British chain used to do on my Triumph 500 back in the sixties (with no chain enclosure). The big difference was that the Triumph had a huge 21 tooth gearbox sprocket where the SR had only 16 teeth. The Japanese have never been bothered by this anomaly.
The above may seem a lot of effort to go to, but it was just the kind of personal touch that can be made if you want to stick with one machine for a long time. It should pay for itself eventually. I have also modified the riding position to suit my body, with slightly higher but narrower bars and footrests relocated a few inches back from stock. With a recovered seat sporting dense foam long distance comfort is assured. I have done as much as 750 miles in a day without regretting a moment of the experience. I am no purist, so if I find, for example, a better headlamp or handlebar cluster whilst browsing in the breakers, I'm quite willing to experiment.
The SR is now suited perfectly to my needs. I realise that the engine is getting a bit long in the tooth, but were I to spend thousands on a new bike there would be so many things that I did not like about it that I would have to spend another large sum of money modifying it to my tastes. The Japanese have certainly mastered the art of building good engines and frames but they now have abandoned the practical side of motorcycling. I shall just have to hope that the SR keeps running long enough for them to get their act together.
Simon
Thank god for breakers. After a long search for a suitable 125 I finally settled on a stolen/recovered Honda CB125T. She was in a bit of a state, which explained the £100 price tag. A 1986 example needing new petrol tank, forks, front wheel and set of clocks. I was not sure if the frame was bent, the breaker was not willing to comment, which came as no great surprise, so I took my chances.
After stripping her down to the frame and engine, I was relieved to find that there were no signs of cracked paint or bent tubes. I did find that the exhaust had been flattened on one side and that both silencers turned out to be more rust than metal. So, a newish exhaust was added to the shopping list.
Several breakers were visited in the search for bits. Whilst this was going on I set the engine up and tidied up the rest of the machine. Nothing of a very expensive nature was revealed, even the rear shocks appeared sound. The front wheel proved the hardest part to find secondhand. I had to give up on that and have it straightened out professionally. I was a bit dubious about this, but the chap reckoned that it was as strong as new. Never had one fail, he assured me. Apart from a few corroded nuts, the bike was a cinch to work on.
I went to the great expense of buying a proper Honda manual, which undoubtedly helped. By the time I finished buying a new set of tyres, the total cost was £260. Not bad, I must admit, for a machine than ran perfectly (it had done 12456 miles) and looked lovely (after I'd resprayed the whole thing British racing green).
The first week was great fun, exploring the limits of performance and handling. It soon became obvious that the engine needed a strong dose of revs to bring out all of its twelve horsepower. For such a lowly powered unit, the OHC twin was ridiculously reliant on revs. The engine had started out in more powerful de-restricted form and had obviously been throttled back in some obscure way that robbed as much power from the lower end as the top of the rev scale.
The only good thing that could be said for this de-restriction was that having started out with a chassis designed to take 80mph speeds, in 12hp form the 310lbs could do little to perturb the running gear. Even when hauled over so far that the centrestand prong buried itself in the tarmac the bike did not display any suicidal tendencies. True, a bit of effort needed to be applied to the narrow bars for flicking through closely spaced curves, but I was more than willing to put up with that in return for the flat out stability.
The two stroke-like need to be revved was matched by a consumption of spark plugs that would have put a Kawasaki triple to shame. I could offer no explanation for the 500 mile failure rate, but forewarned was forearmed. I might have offered the opinion that the bike was running rich, the plugs certainly looked black enough, but fuel was averaging an exceptional 90mpg even though I was caning the device with no thought for anything other than extracting maximum speed. It was the only way to stay up with general road traffic out of town.
The front disc brake was one of those on-off devices that are the bane of many a motorcyclist's life. The bits for mine came off a 1984 bike, so were probably on their last legs to begin with. I had not invested in Goodridge hose, so perhaps the sponginess and lack of feel was down to that. The result was that for several seconds absolutely nothing seemed to happen, then the front wheel howled and screamed as the calipers finally persuaded the pads to lock on to the disc, accompanied by much shuddering of the front forks. This was kind of OK in the dry but pretty horrendous in the wet.
I had fitted some decent Michelin tyres so the skids were easy enough to control by backing off on the brake, but there were circumstances where I had no room to back off which resulted in the front tyre sliding away from under me. The time it really hurt was when the hot engine landed on my leg! It was easy to see how the CB ended up in the breakers, although in the few crashes I managed the bike was easier to kick straight than for the body pains to fade away.
There had to be a better way, thought I. There was. I bought a CB250K4 front end from someone who was breaking a whole bike. The forks had been renovated with stronger springs and new seals - in fact, they were in much better shape than the much newer CB125's! The most positive feature of the K4's front end was its large TLS drum brake. As this was originally designed for the 100mph K1 I had no qualms about fitting it to my much slower machine.
The drum brake was a revelation after the disc, both powerful and sensitive it instilled confidence even in the worst of road conditions. However, the K4 forks were longer than stock, having a curious effect on handling, making it want to flop into bends, especially at low speeds. Stability was still fine, so I decided I could live with the handling deficiencies in favour of the brilliant front brake.
What I had not noticed, alas, was that there were hairline cracks in the drum. This only came to light about 3500 miles later when the front end suddenly felt like it was falling apart. I was only doing 15mph at the time, even so it took a two feet down, handlebar wrestling approach to come to a safe halt. There was a large crack running through the drum and loads of other tiny broken seams waiting to join in. After 18 years of abuse the aluminium had finally fatigued. It was back to the old forks and discs after that experience.
To most bikers 70mph is dead slow, but the revvy nature of the engine made the Honda fun to ride on anything other than motorways (where you need at least 90mph to avoid instant death). I soon found that in narrow, twisty lanes I could buzz much larger machines. Annoyed owners would whack open their throttles in horror, running wide around the bends. I would sneak inside them and dodge forward until on the slightest straight I would be left eating their exhausts. I found all this hilarious and longed to tell them how little I had spent on the Honda just to depress them even further.
OK, I will admit that as well as eating spark plugs, the chains and sprockets were consumed with remarkable rapidity given that it was a mere 12hp plaything - I couldn’t believe the amount of adjustments I had to make and mere 6000 mile life. Maybe something was slightly out of alignment, but everything certainly looked and felt OK. Tyres were much better, doing at least twice that mileage until they needed replacement.
After two years of use I had added over 27000 miles to the mileometer. The engine whirred and clattered away just as it had when I'd acquired the bike. It needed valve adjustments every 2000 miles and oil changes at half that mileage, but otherwise could be rigorously neglected.
The bike ended up where it began its life with me - in the breakers. On one of my few brief forays on to the motorway, I became trapped between a coach and artic which were having fun trying to overtake each other. So much fun that when the bus tried to cut up the lorry he failed to notice this struggling little Honda under its bumper. The back end was knocked sideways, the machine and I flipped over. The Honda bounced off the crash barrier back into the slow lane where the artic finished off the wrecking job by running over my pride and joy. I was luckier, I just rolled and rolled along the hard shoulder, out of harm’s way, until my momentum was absorbed by the crash barrier. This turned out to be an extremely painful way of coming to a stop. I was rushed to hospital in a blaring ambulance, semi-conscious. Broken arm and leg, a massive dose of gravel rash and a neck sprained so badly it was only a fraction away from taking my spine out and turning me into a vegetable.
The hospital staff treated me with utter contempt. If I was stupid enough to ride a motorcycle I could expect little more than to write myself off! I was amazed and profoundly shocked at their attitude but it has not put me off motorcycles.
P Browning
I have owned my W reg Suzuki GP100 for longer than I care to admit. This little stroker has, on the whole, provided sterling service. It's not very fast, about 70mph flat out on a good day and there’s not much action below 6000rpm. Mileage has steadily increased until now the speedo boasts 63200 miles.
At 37000 miles a new barrel and piston were fitted, which rejuvenated the performance, it having tailed off to a top whack of 55mph. The small and big ends were still OK. The only other major problem to date has been a burnt out clutch. I went through a period when I found it great fun to wheelie at every opportunity. The only way a GP will wheelie is by a combination of massive clutch abuse and maximum revs. The consequences were going to be obvious.
This might suggest that the machine has been mercilessly caned and abused. Well, yes and no. I have always ridden the bike at full welly whenever possible but I have also been meticulous about checking the engine oil level and regularly changing the gearbox oil. Things like ignition timing and carb settings hardly ever seemed to wear so were left alone until a noticeable demise in performance occurred.
I really do believe that the GP100 engine is a very tough little nut. Of course, there are ways of breaking it. A friend with a similar bike went to great lengths to tune his GP up. The result was a banshee wail, huge clouds of pungent smoke and a top speed of 75mph. The engine, which had the head shaved, the ports enlarged and an expansion chamber fitted, lasted about two weeks before the piston rings snagged on the enlarged ports, sending a trillion pieces of ring circulating around the motor.
That’s the one disadvantage of the commuter hundreds as opposed to the race replica 125s once you pass your test there is no easy way on the smaller bikes of extracting extra power. I have been tempted on several occasions to modify my bike, usually when I've been burnt off by some lout on a derestricted 125, but have so far resisted such suicidal urges.
Probably just as well when you consider that the chassis is not up to much. The frame is similar to the much maligned Tiger Cub in overall layout and shape. It is probably very cheap to make, which is its one virtue. Beyond 60mph, even with newish suspension, its limits are pushed. Signs of stress are the way the bike bounces about and weaves around, even in a straight line on a smooth road.
Of course, the suspension doesn’t stay in shape for very long. The front springs soon go soggy and rear shocks do a reasonable rendition of having absolutely no damping. If you're lucky enough to find a machine with forks that are not pitted or rusted, cover them in grease and fit gaiters immediately. Once a bit of rust gets hold it rapidly spreads and wrecks the fork seals - not that there was much damping to begin with.
The forks are relatively easy to sort out - take ‘em apart and fit some washers on top of the springs. Thicker damping oil also helps if the seals are in reasonable shape. Replacing the shocks with just about anything the breaker has on offer is a good bet. Thus replete, the ride will be a bit bone jarring but there won't be any speed wobbles right up to the top speed.
At least not until the cheapo swinging arm bearings start to go. Support for the swinging arm is pretty minimal to begin with and under hard going it's not unusual for the back wheel to take a walk for a few inches. When some slop develops in the bearings the chassis turns real vicious... it feels like both tyres have suddenly deflated and you're riding over a series of sleeping policemen (oh for such a chance!). This happens every 6000 miles or so. Despite using half a tub of grease during reassembly, the spindle is a real bugger to remove and often ends up so bashed about that its replacement is required. I tried to get some phosphor bronze bearings made up by the local engineering workshop but they had a minimum fifty quid charge, so I just have to suffer frequent changes.
Another often replaced item is the headlamp bulb. Electrical output is related to engine revs. At low revs the headlamp is a dim glow and the engine stalls if you put the indicators on. Revving the bike hard in lower gears produces a relatively bright light but going too high up the rev range causes the bulb to blow from an excessive frenzy of engine vibes. Very clever.
In fact, the lighting systems of many small commuters are so poor that they are a danger to the rider and other road users. There surely should be a minimal standard for all road vehicles... the government wastes its time and our money trying to outlaw motorcyclists with stupid laws yet can’t be bothered to insure that all motorcycles come with proper lights. How bloody minded can you get?
The GP has other minor problems that adds to the fun. The seat soaks up water like a sponge, which in turn causes the base to go rusty. The steel mudguards also turn to rust after a couple of years. Chain and sprockets don’t last more than 7000 miles a set - I couldn’t believe this on such a small bike.
The engine sprocket is tiny, which doesn’t help at all. The drum brakes are not really adequate if you ride at top speed everywhere, but below 50mph they pull the Suzuki up with surprising effectiveness. The shoes go for about 15000 miles. Whatever problems I've had with the Suzuki have come one at a time and have been easy and cheap to repair. Various stripped threads have been bodged with Araldite. Plastic guards and a GRP kit for the seat base have taken care of the major rust spots. Some additional rubber mounting on front and rear lights have stopped them blowing, whilst the indicator problem was solved by their removal.
Perhaps, most astonishing, I've never fallen off the GP100 in all the years I've been riding the thing. As it commutes through the winter, this says a lot about the basic stability the bike offers. I always use decent tyres rather than cheap imports which makes a major difference. I have come close on many occasions, but the bike is so light that it can be thrown out of the way of offending cars with absurd ease.
On a couple of occasions, I've had to put my foot down and do a speedway style broadside to avoid plunging into a car. The bike twitched violently but succeeded in avoiding metal carnage. On others, I've run the bike off the road, skidding along grass verges or shooting up on to a convenient bit of pavement with a frame shuddering crunch.
The GP is absurdly easy to filter through city traffic and just fast enough off the line to keep most cars in their proper place. Country lanes are OK as long as they are not too bumpy. Faster roads turn into a monotonous drone and after 75 miles sheer agony as the seat foam flattens out. Using the pillion rests on the swinging arm helps a little to relieve muscle tension. However you ride the bike, it does around 60mpg, which whilst not brilliant for a commuter is acceptable as major outpourings of money are very rare. Presently, the engine has started to rattle a bit which sounds like the small end to me, or it may just have worn out the bore and piston again. I will probably fit a newish engine out of a breaker rather than try to repair the current one. Or I may just buy a nearly new bike and keep my old one for spare parts.
As a commuter it's hard to beat, although night time riding is perplexing at the best of times (but that’s probably true for its rivals as well). They are bought either by commuters or learners, the latter are obviously best avoided. Prices start at about £100 for an old one that is still running, going to around £750 for a nearly new one in immaculate condition. Demand is high for good ones, so you need to turn up on the night of the advert with the cash to hand. A good one is definitely worth the effort.
Bill Laird
A 1981 BMW R65 came my way. 475 notes changed hands. The boxer engine was running pretty well, with no smoke out of the exhaust. The machine was reasonably quiet. No sign of the dreaded timing chain rattle. The motor shook like it was about to fall out of the frame at tickover. Twisting the throttle caused the back end to twitch with the torque reaction through the shaft drive. The riding position felt natural, well balanced.
The gearbox turned out terrible. The clutch was sharp in take up, and the box clunked into gear. Needing a hefty boot to change up, it clanged away with an ominous symphony through each gear. I gritted my teeth and hoped they were all like that. Power was miserly, the twin needing a surprising amount of revs before any evidence of real go became apparent.
On the first day of ownership I found that it would do the ton and no more. Subsequent speeding trials in more interesting conditions revealed that it would still do the ton and no more. Handling at speed was OK. There was some twittering at the back end. The reasonable weight of 410lbs combined with the low centre of gravity to make the Beemer easy to control at most speeds.
Town work was obviously limited by the massive width of the engine. The gearbox also precluded any smart manoeuvres. The need to move my foot slowly and accurately to avoid the worst of the noises made it a waste of time to cane the bike through the gears. The way the back rose up under acceleration was well weird but never seemed to do any harm. I eventually learnt to ignore it.
The complex interaction of braking and shaft forces meant that stamping on the rear brake made it tighten up its line around corners as well as backing off speed. A great safety feature. Throttling back made the rear end bounce about. The rear suspension was worn out, so that was expected. It never got so bad that I was persuaded of the necessity of replacing the suspension.
The front brake was the usual horror story. A single disc of marginal performance. Rain produced delay then sudden seizure of the brake. The disc got so hot that steam poured off it in the wet. The feel was spongy and imprecise. The original hoses were still there, so were probably to blame for a lot of that. I took about seven months to truly get to grips with the front brake.
The engine had done 43400 miles when the bike came into my hands. There was evidence that the motor had been torn apart in the past. Badly mangled screws and bolts suggested someone who was not an expert engineer. When I had my friendly local mechanic check on the compression it was way down on one cylinder. Valves or pistons, said he. One thing for the boxer layout, it must be the easiest of engines in which to remove a cylinder head and barrel. The mechanic had the offending items off within ten minutes. The piston was off some other engine. With the slack in the bore it was amazing the motor had run at all. The bore was OK, just a matter of buying a new set of rings and piston. Including labour, the total cost came to £96, with a free service thrown in.
Vibration was a lot more diminished than power was increased. The R65 still refused to pull more than the ton. Low speed torque had increased slightly, still not enough to impress a Bonnie owner. Fuel consumption went from 39 to 45mpg. The compression on the other cylinder was more or less identical to that on the renovated one, so that could hardly be the cause of the poor performance and awful fuel economy.
The bike was, nevertheless, surprisingly useful. Mostly down to the comfort provided by the seat and riding position. I could take hours and hours on the bike. Despite its lack of top end go, the boxer was still able to cruise at an indicated 90mph all day long. The rider nicely braced against the force of his self created wind by the low, narrow bars.
As mentioned, the rear wheel twitched about, but never so seriously that I had cause to hurriedly back off the throttle or rush home for a change of underwear. On those occasions when the front brake decided to come on with its full force, the forks twisted and dived heavily. They occasionally fluttered over the road in fast bends. Also, the front wheel would try to walk away from the bike under extreme abuse. The whole machine lurched malevolently if I suddenly decided a change of line was necessary mid corner.
The basic chassis and engine were still running well with 52000 miles on the clock. The same could not be said for the exhaust. This had been a bit of a rust heap when I'd bought the bike. I paid it scant attention until the usual contented 90mph hum turned into a low flying jet roar. Shortly after that event, the left-hand silencer decided to fall off. To even things off I gave the other one a few kicks. I watched quietly amazed as it fell apart before my eyes. I roared home, a rolling health hazard that woke the dead and shook windows in their frames.
I was booked by one irate plod who reckoned I had broken his hearing aid. Though what the police were doing employing the deaf I don‘t know. The fine was nothing compared to the cost of a new BMW exhaust system. Instead, I bought a pair of universal megaphones - the dealer insisted they were only fit for racing but I ignored his protestations. The noise became a pleasant bark below 3000rpm and the kind of roar than sends dogs into a frenzy above those revs.
The air filter turned out to be full of ten year's worth of crud. I threw it away and fitted on some K&Ns meant for a Guzzi. The carburation didn't appear to mind these major mods to the induction and exhaust systems... perhaps they balanced each other out? On the road, the BMW felt much stronger in the lower rev range but still would not pull more than the ton. Not that I'd want to with the head splitting exhaust row. The big surprise was that the bike started averaging 55mpg! I could put up with a lot of noise in exchange for cheaper running costs.
Having heard frightening stories about fitting other brands, Metz’s finest were always wrapped around the fast corroding wheels. These typically lasted 7500 to 8000 miles before becoming so worn as to induce massive twitchiness in the chassis. The front pads didn’t wear rapidly, probably because the front brake hardly ever worked properly. Figure about 13000 miles a set. The shaft drive was trouble free as long as the oil was replenished every 10000 miles. Basic servicing was a cinch, apart from the carbs which needed 500 mile balance sessions.
With over 59000 miles done the camchain decided to fail. Why BMW couldn’t use gears in their OHV design I don’t know. I suppose it saves production costs to bung in a cheap and nasty chain. Whilst the mechanic was at it, we decided that a new clutch was in order. The old one had become extremely jerky and started to slip at high revs. The bike forced me to do inadvertent wheelies on several occasions. A fearsome occurrence on a boxer twin, with the shaft torque getting the suspension all mixed up. Total cost of these renovations, again including labour, was £124. The bike was simple enough to work on and I could have done the job myself, but I had great faith in this particular mechanic.
The engine was still a bit rattly, which we put down to worn rockers and tappets. The clutch was much improved, although it did little for the gearbox. I have had a test ride on a modern BMW, which still had a poor gearchange but nowhere near as intransigent as mine. I knew, if I had ever wanted to sell the machine, it would be the one thing that would put potential purchasers off.
More miles were done, more roads travelled. | really grew to love the way the Beemer would eat up vast distances. Setting myself increasingly wild targets I eventually called it a day after doing 1261 miles in 24 hours. After that amount of time in the saddle, even with the excellent riding position, my bones were sore and stiff. I needed three days R&R to recover.
As 62000 miles were broached we had our first and only serious accident. I had dropped the bike a few times at low speed but done no serious damage. This time, if the front brake had worked even adequately it would not have been too bad. The usual cager driving straight out into the main road without thinking. I hit the horn at the same time as I grabbed the brakes. Both to no avail. Just before the front wheel buried itself in the side of the Orion, the cager looked up absolutely astonished as this huge bike and rider thundered down upon him. He didn’t walk away from the accident. The front wheel battered down his door and took out several of his ribs.
I was thrown over the bars, over the roof and into the road beyond. I landed well, rolled a few time and was able to bounce back up. The front end of the bike was as wrecked as the side of the car. The front wheel had shattered, bits of alloy spread like shotgun pellets in both the door and driver. I later heard the poor chap had a mild heart attack as well. I had got speed down to about 40mph, it could have been worse. A long argument ensued with the insurance company. In any fair system the car driver’s insurance would have paid up for the damage within days. These bunch of cowboys had other ideas and only a barrage of solicitor’s letters finally secured some funds.
The frame was OK. I hadn’t bothered to wait for the insurance people to sort their act out. A front end off a much newer R65 seemed ideal, so I handed over £250. The forks went on with no problems, along with new steering head bearings. Needless to say, the braking was transformed. I was nearly thrown over the bars the first time I touched the lever. All the mush was gone! This helped restore my nerve. After the close shave with the Orion I had pondered giving up biking. I was getting too old for those kind of aerobatic sessions. In the end I decided I had had my accident for the next decade.
The next year saw another 25000 miles done. I was expecting a major problem with the engine but it never happened. Instead, she became more and more rattly. Some smoke started coming out of the exhausts on the overrun. Top speed was reduced to 95mph under favourable conditions. The maximum cruising speed was reduced to just over 80mph. Above that the vibration became unpleasant.
The universal silencers had also rotted through. A pair of stainless steel R75 silencers were acquired at a bargain price. These quietened down the roar to a remarkable degree but did nothing for the fuel economy. The latter having gradually gone back down to 45mpg as the engine wore out. 86000 miles is not that a high mileage for a BMW but when my mechanic friend began to strip the motor down just about everything was revealed as being well and truly worn out. The gearbox was by far the worst. Missing teeth on the gears, selectors bent and even a bit of the casing cracked. I had wondered where all the oil was coming from. Its previous 220mpp going down to 60mpp!
The really nice thing about BMWs is their model continuity. They keep the same engine configuration going for years and years. Interchangeability of parts is possible between models 20 years apart in manufacture. I paid out £425 for a low mileage R65 engine out of a mangled bike and helped my mechanic to fit it into the chassis. Went straight in, no bodging required.
With a new front end and engine, the boxer looks like it will go on for another decade at the very least. After mastering the cantankerous old gearbox, the newer one seems like a knife through butter. I’ve finally got the old girl to break the ton barrier. Top speed is now 110mph! The weaves are sick making, so I am happy enough to stick with the 90mph cruising ability. Fuel consumption is poor - 40mpg. Can’t say why the newer engine should be so bad. Other than that, I am too happy for words.
H Pointing
This guy just would not stop talking. A long stream of anecdotes to convince me that the 1987 Honda VFR1000R was the only possible motorcycle I could want to buy. He had not yet named his price. I knew it would be high - every sentence contained the word classic at least once. The revelation came only after he took me for a test ride on the 1000cc V-four.
“Look mate,” he said, “I'll start off in second gear to show you how much bottom end torque she has.” It was impressive, rolling off two up with hardly any throttle. On a brief motorway blast he claimed to have put 150mph on the clock but my helmet rode up under the wind battering until my chin piece had obscured my vision.
Back at his impressive residence, he finally revealed that he thought £4750 was a fair price. "Very rare machine, indeed,” he intoned, “be worth more than a Vincent in a few years time.” He came down to £4250 but I left him my telephone number, telling him to give me a ring if he didn’t get any takers. Asking high prices is always worth a go, but I was not surprised when he rang up two weeks later. That was how I came to own a pristine looking, 13000 mile, big Honda V-four for £1450.
That guy was quite a con artist. The reason why he insisted on taking off in second gear was because first gear was on the way out, making an awful graunching sound. Oh well, I consoled myself, that for a 120hp, 150mph motorcycle the VF had been very cheap. I then discovered that fourth was in a similar state to first and that the clutch made an alarming ringing noise when pulled in and the engine revved.
The gearbox problems were no great shakes, despite its power the engine knocked out an amazing amount of torque at the lower revs and would still be usable with just a two speed box. I was able to pull off in third if I had a mind to slip the clutch and fifth would pull from as low as 25mph. The gearbox action was typical Honda, sloppy and prone to the occasional missed change but it wasn’t so bad that you couldn't adapt to its nastiness.
Arriving home revealed a rather large oil leak coming from the back cylinder head gasket and, sure enough, the oil level was down below the minimum mark.
Charmed by this quaint way of greeting its new owner, I kicked the engine with my boot and stormed off inside to study the workshop manual that came with the bike.
This was frighteningly oil stained next to the bits on cylinder head disassembly. One attempt at reading the technobabble that accompanied removal of the rear head was sufficient for me to conclude that buying a water-cooled V-four engine with sixteen valves was not going to make life easy.
After a couple of hours removing various bits of plastic, wiring, tubing and the petrol tank, I gained access to the cylinder head bolts. These were torqued down with vicious force and a layer of Plastic Metal spread around the offending gasket. The seepage was greatly decreased, oil consumption becoming an almost reasonable 200 miles per pint.
Unfortunately, the plastic panels and fairing proved so difficult to put back on that I broke off a couple of lugs and cracked the GRP around their mountings. A day’s delay whilst the Araldite set further added to my mounting anger and frustration. I managed to break off a different fairing lug but used Superglue on that one for an instant repair.
Once reassembled I roared off down the road in full retributive mood. Coming across a capitalist lackey on a new FZR1000 I showed him a clean set of exhaust pipes by droning past him at about 125mph. The next thing I knew I was being stomped upon in anger, the Yamaha's back end vanishing up the road like I had slammed on my brakes. Right, you bum, race time.
I gave the engine everything it had, wrapped myself around the petrol tank and took my life in my hands. I had slowed down the rate at which he was disappearing but had not made much progress. Then I saw his tail light come on and thought, I'll show you, wimp! Within seconds I was roaring past the impertinent whipper-snapper with something like 140mph on the clock.
The reason he had been frantically braking was the presence of a sharp left turn. I was on the triple discs in an instant, taking the bike right over to the wrong side of the road, hoping like hell that an artic was not going to take that moment to come around the corner.
Hurling the top heavy beast over as far as it would go, with the chassis still wound up from the harsh braking, I felt something scrape down, a shudder running along the whole length of the machine. Luckily, the corner wasn’t as tight as expected, by hurling the bike right across the road, back to the proper side I straightened the bend out sufficiently to avoid becoming another accident statistic.
The chassis reacted to this sudden manoeuvre by jumping about a bit on its springs, the back tyre hopping around and when I finally let the brakes off and used the throttle the handlebars shook in my hands for a couple of seconds. Still, I was impressed by the way the 600lb mammoth had responded to such desperate manoeuvres and the FZR stayed way back after I had revealed myself as a suicidal maniac.
Handling ability was capable as long as the suspension was wound up to maximum and the spine rattling ride endured. If it was never entirely stable in the Ducati mode, it was never frightening in the Kawasaki H1 manner. Versatility was its calling card. Capable of busting a gut acceleration wise the motor would also amble along mildly below 6000rpm in top gear if that was your game. Given its huge size and power, fuel was acceptable at 35 to 40mpg and the rest of the consumables were no worse than many a middleweight four.
Motorway cruising was a laugh a minute. In fact, the bike was quite happy to do two miles a minute all day long. The large fairing provided adequate protection from the raging 120mph gale thus produced. Even in the wet I could cover huge distances at high speeds, reassured by the grip produced by the Metzeler tyres... although when they were down to 1mm (after 2750 miles) the bike seemed to twitch from one minor road surface irregularity to the next.
The riding position became most tiring after ten minutes in town traffic, too much pressure on my wrists saw to that. I was thankful that the bike could be dumped in third gear for the duration, rolled along on the throttle. The brakes were very sharp from speed but a tad too vicious for smooth low speed work and, occasionally, in the wet near lethal as they would lock up the front wheel solid. Pad life was about 6000 miles, but in the 14000 miles I did in two years the calipers never hinted at seizing and the discs did not become dangerously thin.
Engine problems were mostly related to the oil leak which needed additional layers of liquid gasket smeared around the outside of the head, and the gearbox which became increasingly crunchy with age. By the time I sold the bike second gear had started leaping into neutral. The clutch eventually slipped away to nothing but needed nothing more than a new set of plates.
The arcane art of setting the valves up was left to the local Honda dealer who did them every 5000 miles and charged me £100 cash for the privilege (he also set the carbs, but they did not seem to go off so I didn't really see the point). With gear driven cams I did not have to worry over tensioners and camchains, although some cams have been known to wear away. Regular oil and filter changes I managed to do every 1000 miles. The thing with these V-fours is that if you neglect any one area, they won‘t last for very long.
The finish was a case in point. Unless polished up at least once a week the paint would fade, the chrome rust and the alloy blemish. Having ridden the bike through two winters, I can tell you all about salt rash. By the time I'd finished with the bike it looked horrible and only fetched £950 - think of the depreciation if I'd paid what the owner had originally wanted!
Tom Hemmings
I looked the bike over, disconsolately. The way the engine churned over on the starter it sounded like the valves were clouting the pistons and the main bearings of the huge V-twin were falling apart. All that din was in direct contrast to the gleaming chrome, alloy and paint of the 1989 machine, then just a year and 7235 miles old. When the engine eventually stuttered into life, the pipes passable imitations of Goldie megas (in looks not decibels, I hasten to add), all that terrible racket was replaced by a reassuring rustle of the OHCs and valvegear. Starters were the bane of earlier Yamaha V-twins and by the sound of this one were not much better in churning over 1100cc’s worth of pistons.
Some motorcycles are so civilised that you hardly know the engine is running. Sitting very low (so low, even midgets could be accommodated) in the XV I was instantly aware that there was a big V-twin rumbling away between my knees. Not so intrusive to be named. vibration, I decided, but there was never any need for a rev counter to determine what was happening down below. A quick burst around the block to test her out, three grand lighter in my back pocket and she was all mine!
I had always been a Harley fan but a ride on one had proved most disappointing. Vintage bikers might’ve been charmed by the lack of brakes, excessive vibration and harsh ride, but not this cruiser... the XV was miles better even if it did not have the instant street credibility of the Harleys. But then I needed no help from my machinery to attract the crumpet.
Indeed, the young lady took to the pillion like a druggie to crack. The perch was plush and there was a backrest to stop her falling off. Short of leg, the pillion peg position suited her fine... there was no discernible effect on handling or performance from her additional mass, although she is on the petite side. This was not very surprising.
The XV pounds out the torque, making a maximum of sixty horses at a mere 6000rpm. Fitted with a five speed gearbox, there was such an abundance of low end power that I quite happily skipped through second and fourth, a three speed box being more than enough. Alternatively, the bike could pull off in second and then be booted up to fourth. The shaft drive cleaned up the lines of the back no end and didn’t need as much attention as expected.
The gearbox was several degrees short of slick, though, the clutch on the heavy side for my tender mitts and downchanges could slip out of gear if a certain amount of care was not maintained... it was dead easy to end up with a back wheel skipping off the road if you messed up a change when in the curves. The normally compliant transmission could turn harsh and vindictive if revs were not carefully matched to road speed.
I ended up with a locked back wheel on several occasions. When this happened in the wet, the Jap rubber went into. a wild slide that had me all but fouling my pants and the femme furiously digging me in the ribs! General handling was better than I thought it would be, especially after nearly killing myself on the unbelievable HD. The Yamaha weighs in at around 470lbs, which is certainly heavy if you have to pick her up off the ground but most of the XV's mass is low, including that of the rider, so once on the move stability feels solid.
The first time I used the twin front discs I nearly had an heart attack. Used to having to take a large handful to obtain adequate retardation (CB500/4, if you must know) I had the forks down on their stops, the front tyre approaching melt down and the wide, high bars twitching. A bit more restraint revealed the front brake as powerful and sensitive enough to avoid locking up the wheel... until 13725 miles were accomplished, when the calipers seized up, the pads were worn through to the metal and there were deep score marks in the discs. I wondered where the funny chattering noises were coming from!
A bit more care of the front brakes revealed that pads lasted about 8000 miles and the calipers needed a strip and clean every 5500 miles. The rear brake has yet to need any attention, although its action is rather dead and its power minimal; so it's not used too much.
Having achieved 25750 miles on its clock, various faults have revealed themselves, though not with the motor. That has lasted remarkably well, needing only the odd valve and carb adjustment... the starter motor still sounds doom laden each time it's used but has become no worse - I had expected it to last about 50 miles (it was a good bargaining point at the time).
Keeping the chassis all cleaned up has, by far, been the hardest task. There's a hell of a lot of chrome and alloy that needs daily attention - the silencers seem to want a rub down with Solvol hourly, these days! The chrome has escaped off the rear shocks, which is not such a surprise because all the damping has disappeared. The way the back end leaps about in bumpy bends has become very bad.
Also, the swinging arm bushes are showing signs of looseness, so much so that where before she was stable at 80mph now there is much wobbling. The tubular frame is not the strongest of structures, it looks like it has just been bent around various components to fit in with the rest of the bike rather than designed from the ground up. Consequently, any degradation of the chassis components is amplified rather than damped out.
When I bought the bike, the ride was soft, just short of soggy. Enough suspension integrity was present to stop an excess of bouncing and to perform a reasonable job of soaking up the worst of the council’s inadequacies. Over the two years I have had the bike there has been a gradual deterioration until now the forks and shocks are just plain soggy, but at the same time do little to soak up the bumps... it's just as well that the seat is so plush. As funds are tight at the moment I have just had to live with it.
Engine performance is still as good as ever. The XV was never going to be a tarmac scorcher but is surprisingly rapid up to 80mph. The limiting factor is vibration, the higher the engine is revved the worse do the vibes become. Until at the ton in top the whole bike feels like a really wicked bone shaker. The mirrors are useless, the tank thrums viciously, feet are vibrated off pegs and hands can hardly hold on to the bars... pushing the engine even higher up the rev range in lower gears really does start double vision.
The flipside is that at, say, 70mph the engine hums along contentedly with nary a sign of the destructive vibes higher up the rev range. Once into the right frame of mind, the XV can be bunged into top gear and a really relaxing ride enjoyed. In this mode I've taken the bike through Europe over a month, clocking up some 4800 miles of completely trouble free, low hassle motorcycling. The seat is so comfortable for low speed work that you curse the lack of range afforded by the 3.5 gallon fuel tank and 45mpg fuel consumption (I would not insult readers by using the term economy).
That's about the one area where the XV loses out to Harley Sportsters, although it's not really that much of a loss when you consider the American iron has only about a gallon of fuel to play with. No, having ridden the two bikes, there is no way I would want to swap my relatively civilised Japanese cruiser for an old age Harley.
And that’s the whole point of the Yamaha XV. If custom style is your game, you don’t want to spend your whole life building a special, and need something that as well as looking the business can be used day in day out as practical wheels, the XV is a hard deal to beat. I would not pay the five grand demanded for a new one, but there are nice examples in the £2500 to £3500 range... rarely are the machines furiously abused, usually they receive a massive dose of tender loving care; so there are some neat bargains to be found in the private market!
Dave Peel
Having owned a GS1000 for ten years I feel I am qualified to drop a few pearls of wisdom on the subject of large, DOHC Suzuki fours. A 1980 example, it now boasts a moderate 78000 miles on the clock. As a pensioner, mileage has been on the low side, the bike coming into my hands with a mere 8400 miles already clocked up. That works out at less than 7000 miles a year under my tender care. Not much, I will admit, but they have been largely enjoyable.
The first owner had replaced the alternator and associated electrics twice under warranty. The third was only to last about 3000 miles under my ownership. I was not too amused as total electrical failure occurred about 120 miles from home. A great time was had persuading British Rail employees to lift the hulk into the guard’s van. They retired shocked and hurt after the unprecedented effort involved.
Once home, I tore out every last wire in the machine. There was obviously something fundamentally wrong with the electrical wiring and there was no point pissing about. I had the alternator rewound and soldered up my own rectifier and regulator unit with components supplied by the local electronic store. I used to build radios in my youth, so the relevant techniques came back to me as I progressed. New wiring and the aforementioned bits seemed to sort the beast, there were no further electrical problems.
This alternator burning out is very common on both the GS and GSX series, many a perfectly good machine has been left totally useless by recurring and sometimes intermittent faults, which are very difficult to trace. I know many motorcyclists who cringe and head for the hills at the mere mention of the word electrics, but doing it yourself is amazingly cheap even if you have to go out to buy a new soldering iron and a book on how to use it. I renovated my Suzuki’s electrics for a lot less than fifty quid including the rewound alternator.
The other major problem I've encountered with the GS was caused by its sheer mass. For some people 520lbs is next to nothing but as a ten stone weakling with brittle, aged bones it's one hell of a lump. I am quite tall and the seat height is reasonable, so I don‘t have that horror to worry over. The several times the bike has landed on the tarmac, often with an earth shattering crunch, I've had to summon some aid. My pensioner status usually helps here, but it has often taken three of us to right the beast, and even then with a great struggle.
This mass is also prevalent at speeds of less than 30mph. The GS is a great burden to try to manoeuvre through slow moving traffic. The engine width is massive, with the alternator sticking out so far it's a prime candidate for being torn off when traffic gaps close up. Engine bars are a vital investment - they have saved damage worth several times their original cost! God knows how BMW boxer riders get on. I've actually fallen off when trying to swing the Suzuki between gaps in cars. There's a point of no return, when at low speed the beast just flops over and dies.
This has caused a few irate car drivers to go berserk when they’ve found their auto crushed to death. Even at my great age I've been threatened by the GTi louts for wrecking their car, not to mention their day. One gorilla actually started laying into me. I stood there with my helmeted head crouched down, thanking god for several layers of protective gear. I was rescued by some old dear rushing out of her Allegro and screaming abuse at the lout.
The centrestand was created by someone with a grudge against society. The first time I used it I fell over on top of the toppled bike. The second time, the bike fell over on me. I don't know which was worse! Damaging myself or the bike? Thereafter I tried to avoid using it unless assistance was at hand and it was totally unavoidable. The stand needed perfect balance and a massive amount of body weight flung on its prong. Get it just very slightly wrong and the bike just fell over.
These days, even after most of the chassis bearings and suspension have all been replaced, handling is always limited by the excessive amount of mass. Perhaps it’s just me! I don’t even go that fast. The GS has a theoretical top speed of 135mph. I've gone over the ton on several occasions, but mostly limit myself to about 90mph. it's just not rewarding to go any faster. Not just because of the way the bike is thrown around, like it's about to go into orbit. The secondary vibes are also something to write home about.
The vibration has destroyed various bulb filaments, cracked mudguards, shattered mirrors, shaken off essential bolts and led to the carbs going out of balance rapidly, which further increases the vibes which puts the carbs further out, which... The solution is rather simple, ride below 90mph. There is still a bit of a buzz but it is a mere echo of the fierce stuff that exists as you near the red line. I would question the sanity of anyone who rides one of these beasts often above 100mph.
Especially in the wet, when the remote chassis leaves you wondering what is going to happen next. The only certain thing is that you won't like it very much! I have had the back wheel come round so far that I was certain I'd blasted through the rules of physics and was travelling backwards at the same time as I was going forwards.
The hefty tubular trellis which holds the engine and suspension together is hardly adequate for taming the Suzuki. The geometry is biased towards straight line stability, so usually backing off the throttle brings the bike back into coherent shape. Unfortunately, that also means it needs a lot of muscle power to throw through a series of bends if you want to travel at fast speeds. I opt for slowing down a bit and conserving my strength for the important things in life.
The bike had stock twin shocks out back when I bought her. These were so awful that they were changed within days for a set of Konis, which are still there. Adequate rather than stunning. The forks are no longer original, as they ended up a bit bent after hitting the side of a car. The GS now sports early GSX1100 forks and twin discs, which are merely adequate - I pity anyone still running one of these huge brutes with original forks! I naturally fitted gaiters, my reward perfect chrome, still!
The engine is mostly as it came out of the factory. I haven't had to replace the camchain or tensioner although the rattling noises have risen of late to a level where they will need attention soon. In fact, the cylinder head bolts have not been touched...which may explain the now quite copious flow of oil past the cylinder head gasket... also the rather dense fog out of the exhausts on the overrun. As a believer in quiet motorcycles I've had to stomp up for no less than two new Suzuki exhaust systems. Oh for stainless steel. The only engine component that has proved at all troublesome, other than the alternator, was the clutch. This has required two sets of plates and one new drum.
I'm not a wheelie mad youth, nor even a tyre scorching drag artist, so how brief is their life under the normal abuse exemplified by the average UMG contributor I would not like to think. Still, they were relatively cheap and easy to fix. Consumables have been pretty horrendous. Figure 5000 miles for a full complement of bits, including chain and sprockets, tyres, pads, etc. Fuel has averaged 40mpg plus or minus 5mpg. It is now nearer 35 than 40mpg. Oil consumption works out at 165mpp. Servicing, apart from carb balancing and oil changes, is hardly ever necessary. The valves have needed doing only about three times.
The motor’s probably going to need a major overhaul soon, but I'm not fazed by that. Despite the weight problem I've found the GS a good friend and don’t see myself buying a replacement before I leave this mortal coil. This is the kind of bike, for all its inherent faults, that you appreciate the longer that you own it.
Greg Michaels
