The car came out of the side turning at about 50mph, planning to scream across the main road. I went for the front brake lever in total panic mode. The brake was old and a bit wimpy, the bike heavy; the resulting retardation insufficient. The front wheel went into the side of the car, which then, as it was still moving - seemed to be accelerating - flipped the whole caboodle sideways. There was enough noise to indicate World War 3 had broken out. Newport's citizens began to scream at the sight of rider and machine, on divergent destruction courses, grinding down the road and flying through the air.
Air brakes screeched. I looked up, after a spine breaking tarmac landing, to find my head positioned exactly under the front wheel of a bus! Without giving the peďs a chance to administer first aid, I leapt to my feet, wondering where the fuck the Kawasaki had got to! First things first. The poor old Z was hidden under the front wheels of a red Audi, whose driver staggered out and threw up. He was in tears, which was quite understandable as he'd damaged a valuable classic. The car that caused the accident had disappeared luckily, there were enough peďs who'd seen what had gone down for me to avoid taking the blame for damaging three cars!
I was told I'd flipped off, kangaroo-hopped over the bonnet of another car before doing a somersault that landed me on my back in front of the bus. I could've been killed several different ways! I somehow escaped without serious injury. When the car was lifted off the Z1000 it wasn't as bad as I feared. The front wheel was buckled slightly, lots of dents in the chassis but nothing bent out of line. I breathed a sigh of relief because I had a seized Z in the garage with all the cycle parts I'd need. One of the advantages of being a heavyweight is that it can take the odd tarmac bashing modern alloy framed bikes tend to be written off in the mildest of shunts - of course, their fearsome brakes and lack of weight means they can often avoid crashes that the Z just had to knock its way through!
That wasn't my first accident! On another occasion I went into a bend too fast, tried to heel the Z right off the edge of its tyres. Instead something dug into the tarmac, flipped us up and sent the bugger charging across the road, through a hedge into a field full of startled sheep. When the front wheel hit the mud, the bike dug in sharply, threw me over bars in such a way that my marital tackle was slashed by the handlebar end. I didn't notice the head to toe covering of mud until the pain diminished after about fifteen minutes! The Z had a similar soft landing, emerged covered in mud.
The reason I hadn't slammed the throttle shut was that it caused the swinging arm to wag about in its minimal mounts, which often translated into a lock to lock handlebar wobble. Not a good idea when you're leant over on the edge of the narrow tyres. Though the Z1000 inherited the Z1's reputation for wild handling, the strange thing was that if you just swung a leg over it for a quick trip around the block, the impression given would be of a solid old thing, nicely secure on the road. Must be all that mass!
The most frightening moment came at 130mph. A nice smooth and empty motorway, early on a summer morning, the motor screaming with the revs and thrumming away like a good 'un. The wind blast was doing my arms and neck in, about to back off a touch, the bastard turned the mild rear wheel weave into a massive speed wobble. The bike wobbled over two lanes of motorway for half a minute, poor old I thinking I was going to meet my maker. The chassis felt like it was made out of plastic and the motor was about to fall out of the frame. As suddenly as it came it went away again. After that, I didn't go over 80mph for a month.
Acceleration was still heady, the bike burning off the 600 replicas up to about 80mph, without too much effort on the throttle or gearbox. The latter had gone all loose and temperamental, with a lot sloshing from the short-lived rear chain (about 4000 miles!). The clutch was surprisingly heavy and a bit abrupt when the motor hadn't warmed up properly. The first engagement of the day required the front brake lever pulled right back to stop it stalling, due to clutch drag. Forget that, iť'd jump about a yard and then die a death!
Any hard use of the throttle resulted in a bit of a fight with the bars. On a good day it was just a matter of forcing them in the required direction, on a bad day they twitched and wobbled all over the shop above 80mph. There was never any need to check the tyres' tread, as soon as they came close to 2mm the handling went really dire, with lurid slides and wobbles even in the dry - don't even think about riding in the wet on worn out tyres.
Despite all this hassle it was a bike | enjoyed riding. Mad? Well, it was kind of fun not knowing exactly how it'd react to conditions and a test of nerve and courage forcing it to go where I wanted. My mates got their kicks trying to break through 150mph, which broke most of their licenses! Whereas I could burble along at much more moderate velocities having the time of my life fighting the Z into submission.
Neither was the motor ever boring. For sure, it was as tough as they came and didn't need much maintenance. But it had a distinct power band, an excess of low end torque and was always a little alive, vibrating and even thrumming away like it was a hard job to get the power out of the eight valve, DOHC, air-cooled mill. Sometimes, though, it seemed sublimely sweet, as if responding to my excessive love of the brute!
Running costs were a mixed bag. Fuel's good at over 50mpg - you cant really thrash them into the red all the time. Maintenance costs are negligible, just oil changes for the most part. Pads, tyres and drive chains are the major expense. Though the front disc works poorly it still cuts through the pads in less than 5000 miles. Just an inefficient piece of junk, but it works just as well in the wet and the calipers ignore winter salt. Go figure. Finish is better than most modern bikes, with only the expected and easily removed alloy rot.
Modern bikes are better in all kinds of ways but I paid £1200 for this one and £300 for the spare bike. Less than the depreciation in the first year of any reasonably sized new motorcycle. Also, the value's likely to increase as they become recognized as modern classics. Never boring, often fun and about the toughest engine in the business - what more could you want?
Handling, lightness... no, no, get real!
H.F.
Air brakes screeched. I looked up, after a spine breaking tarmac landing, to find my head positioned exactly under the front wheel of a bus! Without giving the peďs a chance to administer first aid, I leapt to my feet, wondering where the fuck the Kawasaki had got to! First things first. The poor old Z was hidden under the front wheels of a red Audi, whose driver staggered out and threw up. He was in tears, which was quite understandable as he'd damaged a valuable classic. The car that caused the accident had disappeared luckily, there were enough peďs who'd seen what had gone down for me to avoid taking the blame for damaging three cars!
I was told I'd flipped off, kangaroo-hopped over the bonnet of another car before doing a somersault that landed me on my back in front of the bus. I could've been killed several different ways! I somehow escaped without serious injury. When the car was lifted off the Z1000 it wasn't as bad as I feared. The front wheel was buckled slightly, lots of dents in the chassis but nothing bent out of line. I breathed a sigh of relief because I had a seized Z in the garage with all the cycle parts I'd need. One of the advantages of being a heavyweight is that it can take the odd tarmac bashing modern alloy framed bikes tend to be written off in the mildest of shunts - of course, their fearsome brakes and lack of weight means they can often avoid crashes that the Z just had to knock its way through!
That wasn't my first accident! On another occasion I went into a bend too fast, tried to heel the Z right off the edge of its tyres. Instead something dug into the tarmac, flipped us up and sent the bugger charging across the road, through a hedge into a field full of startled sheep. When the front wheel hit the mud, the bike dug in sharply, threw me over bars in such a way that my marital tackle was slashed by the handlebar end. I didn't notice the head to toe covering of mud until the pain diminished after about fifteen minutes! The Z had a similar soft landing, emerged covered in mud.
The reason I hadn't slammed the throttle shut was that it caused the swinging arm to wag about in its minimal mounts, which often translated into a lock to lock handlebar wobble. Not a good idea when you're leant over on the edge of the narrow tyres. Though the Z1000 inherited the Z1's reputation for wild handling, the strange thing was that if you just swung a leg over it for a quick trip around the block, the impression given would be of a solid old thing, nicely secure on the road. Must be all that mass!
The most frightening moment came at 130mph. A nice smooth and empty motorway, early on a summer morning, the motor screaming with the revs and thrumming away like a good 'un. The wind blast was doing my arms and neck in, about to back off a touch, the bastard turned the mild rear wheel weave into a massive speed wobble. The bike wobbled over two lanes of motorway for half a minute, poor old I thinking I was going to meet my maker. The chassis felt like it was made out of plastic and the motor was about to fall out of the frame. As suddenly as it came it went away again. After that, I didn't go over 80mph for a month.
Acceleration was still heady, the bike burning off the 600 replicas up to about 80mph, without too much effort on the throttle or gearbox. The latter had gone all loose and temperamental, with a lot sloshing from the short-lived rear chain (about 4000 miles!). The clutch was surprisingly heavy and a bit abrupt when the motor hadn't warmed up properly. The first engagement of the day required the front brake lever pulled right back to stop it stalling, due to clutch drag. Forget that, iť'd jump about a yard and then die a death!
Any hard use of the throttle resulted in a bit of a fight with the bars. On a good day it was just a matter of forcing them in the required direction, on a bad day they twitched and wobbled all over the shop above 80mph. There was never any need to check the tyres' tread, as soon as they came close to 2mm the handling went really dire, with lurid slides and wobbles even in the dry - don't even think about riding in the wet on worn out tyres.
Despite all this hassle it was a bike | enjoyed riding. Mad? Well, it was kind of fun not knowing exactly how it'd react to conditions and a test of nerve and courage forcing it to go where I wanted. My mates got their kicks trying to break through 150mph, which broke most of their licenses! Whereas I could burble along at much more moderate velocities having the time of my life fighting the Z into submission.
Neither was the motor ever boring. For sure, it was as tough as they came and didn't need much maintenance. But it had a distinct power band, an excess of low end torque and was always a little alive, vibrating and even thrumming away like it was a hard job to get the power out of the eight valve, DOHC, air-cooled mill. Sometimes, though, it seemed sublimely sweet, as if responding to my excessive love of the brute!
Running costs were a mixed bag. Fuel's good at over 50mpg - you cant really thrash them into the red all the time. Maintenance costs are negligible, just oil changes for the most part. Pads, tyres and drive chains are the major expense. Though the front disc works poorly it still cuts through the pads in less than 5000 miles. Just an inefficient piece of junk, but it works just as well in the wet and the calipers ignore winter salt. Go figure. Finish is better than most modern bikes, with only the expected and easily removed alloy rot.
Modern bikes are better in all kinds of ways but I paid £1200 for this one and £300 for the spare bike. Less than the depreciation in the first year of any reasonably sized new motorcycle. Also, the value's likely to increase as they become recognized as modern classics. Never boring, often fun and about the toughest engine in the business - what more could you want?
Handling, lightness... no, no, get real!
H.F.