As the swinging sixties gradually ran out of momentum, I had two loves in my life - one was the actress Alexandra Bastedo and the other was Suzuki’s 200cc sports twin, known as the Invader. Being 17 years of age at the time and on an apprentice fitters pay, I couldn't afford either and my mode of two wheel transport was a Yam YG1 (for those too young to know, it was an ancestor of the YB100 with an unburstable 80cc engine that ran on for ever).
The T200 was first imported into the UK in 1967 and was a scaled down version of the famous T20 Super Six. Although the T200 had many different components it did at times seem indistinguishable from it, and the chrome tank panels gave it a look of quality seldom found in more modern machines.
To many a schoolboy, it was an awesome sight as a rider opened up the throttle and quickly using the five gears, the throaty burble at low revs would turn into a frenzied high pitch scream as the tacho raced to eight and a half grand. Cortina GT owners hated it as it would leave them for dead at the lights, mothers were panic stricken at the thought of their sons riding at breakneck speeds down the High Street, but to those who had ever ridden one, it was something never to be forgotten.
Nearly 20 years on, I now have the pleasure of owning one, together with the satisfaction of restoring it from a rusty heap into a practical little classic. While indulging in some paddock gossip at Oulton Park, a friend spilt the beans that he had some Jap classics he was intending to restore, but he said that he might sell some as he was moving to a new job down south. One of those bikes was a T200, so with my head full of wild thoughts about being a born again boy racer, I made my way to his house that evening.
The beast was a pathetic sight having stood in the open for four months with considerable areas of pretty brown stuff and large holes spread like jam over many of the cycle parts. The owner wanted £150 for the bike (must have thought he was already in the south). After carefully looking at the machine I realised that, except for one side panel, the bike was original. I held out for two days and he dropped his price to a hundred notes and threw in free delivery to my house.
I decided that I didn’t really want to go the concours route, instead settled on a tidy, roadworthy example. The machine was stripped bare of everything I could find that would unbolt. The mudguards, chain guard and air filter box were sent to a local firm that specialize in powder coating and once I was satisfied with their work I also gave them the frame to coat.
The original colour of the bike was blue and the nearest colour was BL Tahiti Blue. A new side panel was purchased from Brian Bardsley of Caernarfon, who stocks parts for all Suzukis imported into the UK from 1962 on. The chrome tank panels were removed, minor dents filled in the tank, which was then primed and sprayed with aerosol cans. After five hours of chrome polish and elbow grease, the wheels came up like brand new. Once thrown back together the chassis are in the afternoon sun, I only had the engine to deal with.
On removing the two pots I saw that the right con-rod was reluctant to rotate about the big-end bearing, so armed with the point of view that an engine standing for so long would surely need new crankshaft seals, anyway I was not deterred by the fact that a complete strip down and rebuild was necessary.
For those who shudder at the thought of such an operation, like the later GT250, the engine dismantles and reassembles like a Meccano set. The parts needed to replenish the engine were easily obtainable. X5 pistons were used and a local firm rebuilt the crank. With just 10000 on the clock, the transmission was still in good shape and left well alone.
From start to finish, the restoration took six weeks and I soon had the machine taxed and tested and out on the road with no major problems. The handling, although not perfect, was predictable, the braking from the TLS front brake adequate and, despite owning much larger machines, the way the T200 runs along I still find exciting - the magic of the bike never seems to fade.
If you want to undertake such a project, you can pick up sixties Japs for as little as £40 - but bear in mind that at this price they’re likely to need more extensive engine repairs than on my bike, so the ultimate cost may work out higher than mine despite a lower initial purchase price. To date I have not ridden the machine with a pillion, so who will be the first to hop on the back? Any offers, Alexandra?
Dave Keech