The GS750 had been flung down the road by a would-be drag racer. The owner had ended up in hospital with a broken leg. The bike was deeply scarred and dented but was still straight. The rear shocks were replaced by a pair of steel bars. The swinging arm was a foot longer than standard.
The exhaust was a four into one without a silencer. Various essential bits like speedos and lights were missing. The engine still ran and sounded good. The wife of the owner wanted shot of the "killer machine" before he came out of hospital. What would I give her? £250! We put the bike into the van before she'd realised what she'd done.
I like GS750s. Have owned a couple in the past. Had, in fact, one in the garage. It'd had done 110000 miles before the crankshaft had finally dumped its ball bearings throughout the engine. It happened at S0mph. The seized engine locked up the rear wheel.
I sorted of stepped off as the bike headed for a stone wall. The frame and forks went west. I'd kept what was left for sentimental reasons. Luckily, what was still useable would fit straight on the drag racer. I'd have a street legal bike for next to nothing. So it was!
I hadn't stripped the engine down or anything. It ran and that was good enough for me. Ran was a bit of an understatement. It roared, spat and growled out the power in a much more spirited manner than the older GS750. It was partly the gearing, which was set up for acceleration rather than top speed; partly the noisy induction and exhaust systems, but it felt like there were some hot-rod parts inside the mill.
It was often reluctant to start, spitting back through the carbs and churning over on the electric until it fired. Fitting the choke back on helped. The engine also didn't like to run below 3000rpm. Suggested to me that there were high-lift cams and high compression pistons inside. The power really took off at 7000 revs, hit a peak at 10000 and died a death at 11000rpm. Dangerously high revs for a GS750. I just hoped the crankshaft had been welded up.
Signs of stress were evident in the clutch. Rattle, chatter, rattle. Very temperamental. Sometimes as smooth as silk. Other times it'd fling the bike forwards and upwards in a thoroughly violent manner. The GS would wheelie in a way that belied its rather staid appearance.
This street sleeper characteristic was good fun in town. Some dork on a race reptile would have the shock of his life as he viewed the disappearing exhaust pipe of the GS. It would hit 100mph in what seemed like five seconds, though there was no way I could measure it. I was too busy hanging on to the shaking bars. The trick was to annoy him so much that he'd go roaring past at an insane velocity just as the traffic was closing up...
Top speed wasn't much cop. It wasn't that the bike couldn't run up to 130mph, but that above 7000 revs secondary vibes were so fierce I could hardly hold on to the bars. It was OK for brief bursts of frantic acceleration but the manic shakes if sustained for more than a couple of minutes led to white fingers.
A stock GS also vibrates but it's not so bad that it'd stop me from cruising at 90mph. Taller gearing would obviously help as it'd push the vibration further up the speed band in fifth. I got such a kick out of the acceleration that I didn't want to change the ratios. It'd also help the fuel economy, 30 to 35mpg compared to 45 to 50mpg from a stock bike. Oil consumption was similarly heavy at 150 miles to a litre. The expense had to be balanced against the fun.
Further spons went on drive chains, about 3500 miles! Sprockets lasted no longer, though they were never exactly new. I thought that a slight amount of slop in the swinging arm bearings might've contributed to this. It certainly helped explain a propensity for speed wobbles at around 100mph.
After 1500 miles of immense enjoyment the swinging arm was so loose the bike veered off to the gutter on take-offs. A new set of bushes went in easily as I'd already spent the obligatory weekend removing the old spindle to swap swinging arms. The Girling shocks kept the back end under reasonable control but the front forks bounced recklessly when it regained the ground after a vicious wheelie.
The vibes and often wild handling meant that most of my riding was running through town at high speeds. Knowing that the bike had cost next to nothing, I could take some quite outrageous risks. I came close to wiping out the ends of the crankshaft several times; the GS has one hell of a wide engine for traffic work. That apart my cross town times kept breaking records and killing the egos of race replica riders. How sad!
The few times I took the bike cross country various chassis nastiness emerged. Made all the more interesting by the lack of brakes. The rear drum had linings and shoes just short of going down to the rivets. So not much help there. Engine braking would've been useful had not clutch chatter sounded like the drum was about to explode. That left a singular front disc that looked and felt like it'd come straight from a Honda CB250G5. It shared with that unfortunate motorcycle a lack of power and evil wet weather characteristics. The front wheel of the seized GS had been wrecked in the crash. Eventually a friend had mercy on me, loaned me a GSX1100 front end. The braking on this was demonic rather than evil but strangely intensified the speed wobble tendencies.
Stock GS750s are pretty stable beasts as long as the tyres and suspension are kept in good fettle. Even with those indulgences, my GS would start shaking its steering head under excessive speed or large bumps. Even small bumps when running through corners. Cornering clearance was severely limited by the exhaust collector on one side and my own fear on the other.
I'm used to these big old Japanese fours, so should've known what to expect. But there seemed something particularly amiss with this chassis. The echo of the past owner's wife kept circling in my head. "Killer machine, killer machine." I took it to one of those frame straightening places but he reckoned everything was in line.
Whilst I was there, his assistant was trying to straighten a GS550. There was a sudden bang, like the terrorists had arrived. The frame had exploded around the headstock, bits of tube expanding outwards. Given that level of proficiency I wasn't entirely convinced that my own Suzuki was straight.
A week later, I was hustling along the A4, trying to get out of London in one piece, when the chassis turned to jelly at about 70mph. You have to experience this kind of thing to feel the depth of fear and panic. Sitting on a bike that has gone totally out of control is a unique experience.
Old hands will tell you to accelerate through the wobbles. My personal level of cowardice would not allow that. I hit the brakes and the prayer mat. It actually felt like I had two wheels going in completely different directions, with a huge bit of knicker elastic in between them. The clocks were shaking so furiously it was difficult to watch the speed disappear.
Control of the Suzuki was possible, just, but there were a lot of cars in the way. The GS needed a couple of lanes before the wobbles died out. This reality sent the cagers wild, insane, mad with an excess of horns, screaming brakes and, as they rolled past my stationary and shaking form, lots of verbal insults. That day the gods had looked out for me. A few inches either way would've left me the centre of a massive pileup. The focus of highway carnage. Thanks, but no thanks.
The GS had to be modified or sold. Finding a good GS750 chassis proved impossible. There was a lot of expensive dross about. One guy wanted a thousand notes for a bent non-runner! Seemed like everyone had decided that the GS was a modern classic. Pass the sick-bucket, please. I could've off-loaded the bike as a runner to someone who knew no better, but my conscience wouldn't allow that. I'd only escaped death by a combination of experience and luck. I chucked the drag racer bits back on and sold it like that.
Gerry Kelly