Those old bouncers had a fierce rep right out of the crate, when brand stinking new. The Z1000 was reputedly less of a leaking barge, getting better as it wove its way through an excess of model designations. Mine had felt solid enough for the first few miles, although I was old enough not to go mad on the throttle until some experience of the beast had been sought. I was more used to hack Superdreams, rat XS400s and the odd if fading middleweight four. A sudden influx of money had caused me to spend £1500 on the 62000 mile Kawasaki.
The bike looked clean rather than immaculate, mildly modded where it counted (rear suspension, exhaust, etc) rather than original; still growled out the power with enough vigour to jerk my spine and stir the adrenaline. Stepping off the hulk, after the wobble, I noted that the mill seemed awfully hot and that the alloy swinging arm hung at an odd angle. This after-market accessory had thrashed its needle roller bearings, leaving the bike impossible to ride. Only a series of begging phone calls persuaded a mate of a mate to turn up with a trailer for the six mile trek home.
No way to start life with a new machine, especially one that had cost an outrageous sum of money to buy (the previous CB400N cost £150 and lasted for a year without any serious expense). I hammered the old spindle out and the new bearings in, noting that the old ones were totally devoid of grease. Not surprising, there was no way of getting any grease in there once the back end was reassembled.
The next 600 miles went by in a haze of speed and, er, petrol fumes. Yep, the fuel tank was seeping fuel due to it rusting from the inside out. The accumulation of debris in the bottom of the tank explained the bike’s reluctance to pull more than 125mph. Finding a good tank proved taxing; in the end a Z1 item was force-fitted.
The earlier tanks were made to a higher standard, last much longer than the mush fitted to the Z1000.
Luckily, for me, the engines were built to a similarly high standard. Came as no surprise that the motor ran perfectly, if very hot, until 82000 miles when the clutch rattle vied with a disintegrating camchain tensioner for my attention. Not wanting an engine full of metal bits I whipped the motor out more a sort of desperate stagger, actually, as it’s one hell of a heavy lump; must be all those hefty roller bearings that make the crankshaft nigh on indestructible.
Easy enough to work on, good used bits were fitted in an afternoon, along with a camchain that glowed with its newness. I got some help to lift the motor back in, fearing a slipped disc or broken foot. The engine refused to start for a day, then gave in but sounded so quiet that I switched it off to check that the oil level was OK. It was but despite the quietness there wasn't any extra performance, a testament to the tolerances under which the mill would successfully run.
By then I’d become used to the handling. Basically, if everything was set up perfectly and the tyres were in good shape, then it’d go where I pointed it and only threatened to throw me off if I went into corners too fast or on the brakes. A large amount of muscle was needed, both in town and on the open road, but it’s something that you become used to.
If the tyres were down to 3mm, any of the chassis bearings too worn, or the suspension on the way out, then some large wobbles turned up, reminding me that this was one hefty brute that could let loose without any warning. It pays to keep the chassis up to scratch. Also, the brakes. At best they were indifferent without being dangerous. If the calipers were left to rot they became very grabby, seriously nasty. I only let them degenerate the once; that was more than enough for me.
After I broke through the 100000 mile barrier it became too much of an expense and hassle. Consumables were horrific (everything less than 5000 miles), fuel around 30mpg (it’d managed 45mpg earlier) and performance not much better than my friend’s GS750. Everything pointed to some serious engine expenses and I should've got out whilst the going was still good, the bike having retained its value. Laziness stopped me from that easy hustle.
With 102000 miles on the clock, I was cajoled into a round Britain run for charity. My motives weren't entirely benign as the petrol would be paid for and my friends were threatening to break all speed records. Sounded like a good crack to me. At the time. On the appointed day what looked like a blizzard greeted us at 6.00am. One thing the Z doesn't like is wet weather. Neither do I. I feigned a sudden illness but was threatened with banishment to Wrexham, so no easy way out. Our collective reaction to the harsh elements was to turn the wick up; get it over with as quickly as possible.
Motorways were dealt with the usual contempt. Wrap myself around the machine, head down and throttle to the stop. 120mph most of the way; the odd bit of frantic braking when sighting what looked like a cop car. A couple of hours of this madness found us in the north of England and the poor old Z grinding and clattering away like a Victorian engineering works.
That was the end of my charity jaunt. One of my mates towing me the 300 miles home. I don't think we hit 50mph once, both of us in a pretty desperate condition by the time we rolled up to my house. No-one would believe we’d done the journey back in under twelve hours but they all nodded sagely when I regaled them with tales of lurid weaves and nearly coming off more times in that journey than in the previous fourteen years of motorcycling.
I knew the engine was going to be bad when I found one of its mounting plates had cracked up. Secondary vibes, above 6000 revs, were always annoying but I rarely ended up with completely dead fingers or feet. Whipping the head off revealed three cracked pistons. Bits had found their way into the gearbox, where teeth were torn off the cogs. The small-ends were also shot, the camchain looked elastic and the bores were heavily scored. Before you dismiss the Z as a pile of crap, think about the mileage and the revelation that it'd never been re-bored!
Try as I might, I was never able to find a replacement engine. Sure, there were a few on offer but they were in a worse state than mine! I placed an advert in the local Free Advertiser, offering the chassis for £600 and received several phone calls. Only one guy was willing to come up with some serious dosh, having crashed his low mileage Z1000 into a wall on one drunken outing. Considering that all my consumables were on the way out, 450 notes seemed about right.
The Z1000 was built between 1977 and 1985. There are still plenty of examples in reasonable shape, available for £1000-2000. The handling can be hairy but the tough motors make them worth the effort. I went back to a Superdream for a week but gave up on it as I'd become used to the urge of a big Jap four. I ended up with an immaculate Z1000ST. What more can I say?
Steve Lewings