The GSX was called fast by the standards of its class. Large and imposing for a 250, it boasted a hydraulic front disc, electronic ignition, electric start (with no kickstart) and the legend 8 valves on its side panels in support of the 26hp engine.
My particular GSX had been given a bright red frame by its previous owner, well matched to the bright red tank and tail, red/black side panels. Its stylish and immaculate appearance was rounded off by a clean engine and spotless original chrome exhausts - a definite plus point as a friend’s bike fitted with a 2-1 was never free of flat spots.
Out on the road, performance was brisk enough for urban areas or even an evening saunter down a country lane, with fuel consumption of around 65mpg. However, sixth gear was really an overdrive, the top speed of 85mph had to be attained by redlining the bike in fifth and then changing up.
I made a weekly 25 mile journey mostly on dual carriageways, whilst the bike could be held at 80mph on the flat, it was always obvious that it was running out of enthusiasm much beyond 70mph. Opening the throttle at that speed produced little or no effect, which I felt was rather dangerous as I didn’t have the option of accelerating out of trouble.
On one occasion the clutch cable broke at the wrong end of the dual carriageway. Paddling along in second and thumbing the starter button allowed me to start off. This was fine until I had to exit the dual carriageway, when some very careful work at road junctions was needed.
After a while, the collector box rotted and I was alarmed to find that even pattern parts cost £25. So from a breaker I bought two chrome downpipes for 50p and cut out two straight sections. These were used to connect each downpipe to its respective silencer. The bike now had a fully separate exhaust from each cylinder, but there was no change in appearance to the casual observer and I didn’t notice any change in performance or fuel consumption. I was quite pleased with the money I saved; but I was about to need it.
The really boring thing about the GSX was its electrics. On a couple of mornings the starter had been sluggish, so I’d charged the battery, putting the problem down to short journeys in cold weather. Then the battery needed charging more and more often. Finally when it wouldn’t turn the engine at 5pm after being charged the night before, I stuck in a new battery. In 48 hours this too was flat. The bike was now like an electric milk float, always parked on a slope and connected to a charger as soon as it got home - if I got there.
With a Haynes manual and a test lamp I discovered the alternator stator was burnt out, flattening the battery by allowing current to leak slowly to earth through the coils. With the alternator disconnected, the bike was much improved, running for several days between battery charges (I was told of one machine running permanently with a car battery in the top box).
Harbouring ambitions for a normal life, I removed the stator and had the blackened remains of two of its nine coils rewound locally. A week later the battery was suddenly flat. I removed the stator a second time to find two blackened coils. Back to the rewind shop who rewound them for free after an argument, but insisting that the regulator/rectifier unit was probably doing the damage. I had it tested and the replacement cost £54 new as there were none available from the breakers.
So the entire charging system was in a state of virginal freshness just in time for the BMF rally. 100 miles from home I stopped for a pee, returned to the bike to find that the starter churned over like it was about to be sick. I stared in disbelief. Then I knelt for a while by the front wheel, not in prayer but in a forlorn attempt to find some other reason for the calamity. I disconnected the alternator again, push started it and continued to Peterborough - the almost completely dead idiot lights testified to the depleted battery.
Amidst those thousands of bikers it was humiliating to own the one that had just died. I wandered around the show trying to forget my troubles and put a leg over some new Kawasakis. A pleasant chap at rally control had a battery charger, to my great relief, so I just had to fetch the battery (a very irritating item to remove, by the way).
I could only partially charge the battery in the time available. I filled the fuel tank to the brim and set off grimly into the drizzle, wondering if I had sufficient battery power to make it home. I ploughed on and on and on, soaked to the skin as the rain had turned heavy, not daring to stop. The thick clouds and pouring rain made evening come early, calling for lights, which I dared not use. Finally I switched on the lights, the bike lost 10mph, so I switched them off.
With a few miles to go, a misfire set in and speed dropped off. I crawled home by going down through the gears. On the last few yards the motor cut out completely and I coasted in. As everything had already been renewed, there was no more scope for throwing money at the problem. I bought wire for 70p and rewound the stator coils myself two times with much the same result as the professional rewinds. Stator removal is not difficult (I cut my own gaskets to save money) but the oil must be drained.
Eventually this incessant rigmarole led me to forget to tighten up the sump plug, leading to the engine oil being deposited in front of the back wheel. The wheel developed a life of its own, but I was able to hang on through some wild antics until it stopped at the end of a long oil slick. I couldn’t find the sump plug, but a passing motorcyclist and a farmer came to my aid; we found that the oil pressure sender from an old Ford made a fine substitute - not many people know that.
The nine stator coils are quite small, each wound with three layers of wire, 10 turns per layer. I bought a scrap burnt out stator body plus a big roll of wire about 20% thicker than the original, and totally rewound my new stator with the thicker wire using 24 turns per coil instead of 30. I took care to duplicate the original winding pattern, avoiding scratching the varnish and testing frequently for short circuits, sealing it all with shellac varnish (I used Rustin’s Knotting from a woodwork shop).
Miraculously, after so many months of trouble, this home brew appeared to work. The battery charged, the bike started when required. But the whole thing began to feel stale, after so much toil. In between rewinds I had become used to the performance and needed full throttle everywhere. And I was still. unhappy with the way the thing could be threatened by HGVs at high speeds. So with regrets for its appearance and comfort I sold it to buy a bigger machine.
It had been, as they say, a learning experience, and I had appreciated the help from fellow bikers and the farmer, but I didn’t feel the same about the chap. who, er, designs electrics for Suzukis. They’d do better to stick a pulley on the end of the crank and use a dynamo off a Morris Minor.
Andrew Eccles