The water-cooled four cylinder motor seemed a bit noisy under the plastic, which at 3000 to 4000 revs trembled as if in anticipation of the power that was about to be unleashed. Secondary vibes buzzed the bars and pegs but 90mph was electric smooth, the howl of the wind and the growl of the almost straight through four into one exhaust drowning out even the gearbox whine. The former looked rather out of place on the shining red and white machine, a disgusting mix of matt black paint and rust but never went any worse. My previous bike was a Honda CB900 with race cams and the loudest resonance this side of a Jumbo jet taking off. I was thus used to rabid handling, vivid vibration and excessive earache.
What I wasn’t quite prepared for was ball breaking acceleration, the damn thing only getting into the serious power above 120mph in top. A speed on the CB that was reminiscent of being tied to a sail mast in a sea churned up by a howling gale Whoosh! The ZX catapulted up to 150mph without any effort on my part, though thereafter the inevitable aerodynamic forces slowed things down, but even then it didn’t take much to put 170mph on the clock. At those kind of speeds I had to get right down behind the minimal screen, the alternative being to have my head ripped right off!
There are not many roads in the UK where those sort of velocities can be indulged. Motorways are ideal but are heavily patrolled, even to the extent of having the odd helicopter floating around. I could probably outrun most cop cars but even if l obscured the numberplate they could still radio ahead with my details. Usually, then, I stuck to under the ton, going with the flow of the cagers and trying not to stand out like a Nazi enthusiast in a synagogue.
Any number of big motorcycles can accomplish such a task with ease, the ZX being no exception. Handling, braking and comfort were all well matched to 80 to 100mph cruising; even the fuel was reasonable at 40 to 45mpg. The only problem was that, from time to time, I'd be overcome with the boredom of it all, knock down a few gears in the slightly crunchy gearbox and go mad on the throttle. Startling acceleration and excessive speeds resulted, the kind of adrenaline kick that would wake the dead and throw Eurocrats into a frenzy of law making.
15000 miles worth of previous abuse had left the rear shock a little on the soft side, the Unitrak linkages a bit worn and the front forks rather harsh, turned up-as they were to their highest settings. Up to the ton none of this was too apparent as the frame was stiff and the steering geometry inspired stability. When pushed harder, especially through fast sweepers, quite a lot of looseness intruded into my peace of mind... or to put it another way, the top heavy piece of shit would go wild with indecision if I cocked up my line through a corner and then hastily tried to correct it with a bit of heavy muscle.
If I'd had a death-wish then the way the rear shock took up to a hundred yards to sort itself out when assaulted by a large bump in a corner would've been very welcome. As it was, my knuckles turned white and underpants brown on several occasions when the overwhelming sensation was of being slapped around by an enraged gorilla. Somehow, I survived long enough to fit new Unitrak bearings and a rebuilt White Power shock (they are infinitely rebuildable, which is just as well given their outrageous cost new).
There was still 500lbs of metal lurking away ready to bite back, but the brilliantly controlled shock and tightened up linkages, removed most of the madness. Ridden sensibly there wasn’t much of a problem, it was just when grabbing a handful of throttle in, say, third when exiting a bend the chassis couldn't make up its mind if it was going into a massive wheelie or to whack the back wheel out by a couple of yards. After a while I began to find this craziness great fun!
Even on decent rubber, which was a rare occurrence as it went through expensive tyres in three to four thousand miles, wet weather riding could turn very traumatic if rigid control of the throttle wasn't maintained. This was quite annoying as I often ended up riding in the 3000 to 4000 rev vibration patch. Under throttle abuse, the back end would start to slide controllably then suddenly let loose with no warning trying to pull back 500Ibs of metal was such hard work that several times I was close to pulling my limbs out of their sockets and I ended up soaked through with sweat, the smell of fear from the blind panic staying with me until I'd taken a shower.
lt was the feeling of remoteness from the reaction of the tyres with the road, especially in the wet, that was the most unpleasant trait. My much modified CB900 felt like a tractor in comparison but at least I always knew what the tyres were doing. After about a year I had, however, adapted to the big Kawasaki and could ride formidably fast in the dry and adequately in the wet. It's the kind of bike you either fall off and give up on, or accord a certain amount of respect and skill until it's mastered.
The brakes needed quite a lot of work until they matched the performance. The front twin discs were plenty powerful but so remote that they threatened to throw me over the bars every time I touched the lever. The hose had gone off, the fluid was so murky that it must’ve been original and the calipers were just beginning to stick. The rear caliper looked and acted like someone had left it in a vat of acid for a week, had to be replaced unlike the front end which responded to Goodridge hose, new fluid, rebuilt calipers and EBC pads.
Renovated, the brakes had loads of power but were still a little edgy under sensitive conditions (i.e. an English winter) but nothing, like the rest of the bike, a little time, effort and patience couldn't counter. Front pads lasted 6000 miles whilst out back they went for almost twice that, probably because I didn’t use that brake too often or too harshly.
One expensive habit the bike displayed was the way it went through high quality O-ring chains and sprocket sets in 5000 to 6000 miles. The drive line lash, that resonated furiously on the overrun as if the back wheel was way out of line, couldn't have helped. I went to the trouble of replacing the cush drive but it made absolutely no difference. The gear change wasn't perfect but could be mastered with a bit of care and skill; even the current 53000 miles on the clock hasn't brought in an excess of false neutrals, although the real neutral became elusive after about 30000 miles.
At that mileage I'd had to replace the clutch plates plus the camchain and tensioner, the latter so worn that it was making the engine sound just like a Vincent at tickover (just for a laugh I'd taken the ZX along to a vintage meeting and couldn't believe the din made by Britain's premier relic - and the guy wanted £15000 for it; bloody cheek, I could buy seven ZX-10s for that!).
The whole range of water-cooled Kawasaki fours can be afflicted with camshaft wear at high mileages but my bike escaped this potentially ruinous demise because I always did regular oil and filter swaps, as well as proper maintenance sessions every 5000 miles. The sixteen valves have stayed within adjustment although the engine always responds well to a carb balancing session. I do all the work myself; it's tedious, with all the stuff to remove, rather than complex. A poor running motor might well just be worn out plugs as they don’t last for more than 7000 miles (so it's easier to change them every 5000 miles).
The ZX-10 has to be exceptional value for money but it’s one of those big Japanese bikes with a brutal nature that can frighten the shit out of the unwary, both with its outrageous power and swinish handling. Give it some time, though, and it’s dead easy to fall for its wildness and learn to live with its deficiencies. I will keep mine until the engine blows up!
Carl Wilson