I don't really know why I bought the big Yam. It was for sale just a street away and was cheap at £1500 for a 14000 miler. But it was a big, vicious, shaft driven thing that I could barely straddle and seemed to want to topple over all the time. Character building is, I think, the way to describe it. As in potty training! I had ago on it a few times over the years, always coming back out of breath, panting with the exertion and adrenaline. I don’t know if I was more scared by the handling or exhilarated by the massive torque. One day, the latter overcame the former and I agreed to become the bike’s new owner.
Despite being over a decade old, the mileage was low and the condition excellent. Most of this was down to the fact that it'd been only used in the summer months. The combination of 95 horses and 550Ibs in a somewhat dodgy and unpredictable chassis added up to the kind of machine that was absolutely no fun on wet roads. The disc brakes were also diabolical in the wet. The previous owner was suffering from premature hair loss, surreal twitches and permanent vocal cord impairment. What had I let myself in for?
The first tentative rides went pretty well. I didn't fall off, maim any pedestrians or hit any other vehicles. The gearbox was less than impressive, but there was so much grunt that I could get away with riding down to tickover in third and just using the throttle for the go-go juices. The back end shuffled around a bit but didn’t seem to bite back with any ferocity.
On the fourth outing the fuel ran out. The motor went as dead as my brain, as I tried to recall what to do next. The momentum fought a losing battle against the mass, but I ploughed through the traffic with all the macho-ness of a Transit with bull-bars. Made it to the gutter in one piece. The motor coughed and spluttered whilst the reserve fuel fed into the carbs, then suddenly bellowed into life at 10000 revs.
At that precise moment, when my eardrums had popped out of my head, a couple of plod popped up out of nowhere, wanted to know what we had here. Luckily, part of the deal with the XS was cheap classic bike insurance - though god knows on what basis, as it’s a bit of a high speed deathtrap as far as I can see. It was taxed and MOTd, as well. I handed over the documents whilst they frowned in concentration, the act of reading a bit beyond their intelligence. They were mightily disappointed that all appeared in order, and my self-satisfied grin didn’t help any...
They asked me if I was on drugs or was all the shaking just part of my normal degenerate lifestyle. I tried to explain that nearly being run down by half a dozen cages on a bike unruly enough to break my leg if I didn’t watch what I was doing, might just have had an effect, as well as some tremulous secondary vibes. The next thing I knew, one of them had me spreadeagled against a wall whilst the other poked and pulled at the XS. Like a Doberman instinctively obeying its master, the XS careered off its side-stand, trapping PC Plod under 550lbs of hot metal.
Of course, I burst out into hysterical laughter as his mate tried to lift the machine off him. Once we'd righted the Yam, the cop went into a foul mouth spiel about deadly assault on police officers carrying a minimum 20 year sentence. And if he every saw me on his beat again I was for it in a big way. Entirely unintentionally, I left the scene amid massive wheelspin and raucous noise, my attention distracted by another fit of laughter. I knew then that the Yam and I were going to be good mates.
The four cylinder engine showed its age only in the amount of tender loving care it demanded. Valves and carbs needed doing every 1500 miles, as did the oil. Also, every week I had to go over the bolts, which loosened off under the effects of the vibration, which rumbled sedately through the chassis at most revs, though the rider was insulated to a degree at 50 to 90mph in top gear.
The best place for the XS was on smooth motorways, where it could sit in the fast lane at 90 to 100mph, doing 25mpg and tearing through the rubber in 5000 miles. The power didn’t run out until 125mph was on the clock, more from the way I was left out in the wind, half battered to death by the sheer violence of the gale, than from the mill running out of gee gees. The previous owner reckoned he had seen 145mph on the clock, but I just don’t have the muscle or courage for that kind of madness.
The XS has a bit of a reputation as a really foul handler but as long as the tyres had some tread and the road was smooth, there wasn’t much to worry about. Failing these prerequisites then the bike could end up all over the place, shaking away like it wanted to spit me out of the seat and go for any other vehicles in the immediate vicinity.
It was dead easy to wheelspin coming out of corners, just on the excessive grunt available at the end of the throttle. This gave a distinct rubbery, hinged in the middle feel, but I wasn't actually thrown off or down the road. Perhaps because I always tended to back off when riding on curvy A-roads; country lanes, and the like, I tried to avoid like the plague.
This meant my times over long distances were not too impressive and it was a bit of a slug in town too top heavy and wide to really make the grade. The fantastical acceleration was more of a problem than a blessing in traffic. I'd race down a clear stretch at an eyeball popping rate only to find that the disc brakes would fade when used in desperate mode, turning the steering all choppy and vague. I know, if I'd said to hell with it, just let the machine have its head, I would have been the fastest boy in town - before I got dead!
There were compensations. It was such a huge, ferocious brute that pedestrians were overawed and cagers tended to swerve out of the way (just as well as it was a slow turning beast at the best of times). Young girls swooned at the thought of a pillion ride, found the reality of the acceleration and vibration very exciting. I’ve actually had women fall all over me after a ten minute blast, and as I’m an ugly little fucker it must be one of the most positive aspects of XS1100 ownership. OK, extended exposure would probably do my balls in but for short distances it was kind of a hoot!
XS1100 engines are pretty tough given regular maintenance and oil, I did 7000 miles in two years without any worries on that score. The finish stayed good but as mentioned it was but rarely ridden in the rain. Consumables and fuel were ridiculous but mileage wasn't that high so it wasn't ruinous.
I sold the bike for £1875, which meant it had paid for itself. Unless you're a complete nutter, the kicks are a bit limited but it can be managed in a sane way and provides loads of street cred. Anyway, I bought a 145hp V-Max for four grand, which is really mad and bad.
Carl Jones