The same care and attention that'd been applied to the chassis was evident in the electrics. A rewound alternator was combined with a home made regulator/rectifier unit laid out on a nice bit of alloy plate to act as a heat sink. The whole bike had also been rewired. The owner reckoned the notorious electrical burn-outs were a thing of the past.
To my eyes, what I was looking at was a mildly modified machine that had lost a few pounds in mass, maybe gained a few horses, and had at least 50000 miles of life left. The DOHC engine was the toughest in the business, most of the areas of concern in GS ownership had already been dealt with.
I happily handed over 750 notes and rode off into the sunset with a big grin. Or maybe grimace is more accurate. The beautiful hulking Katana design means a long stretch to the bars and a seat lacking in padding. Within fifteen minutes my backside was screaming enough and my wrists were turning sore, their angle of attack on the bars making both throttle and clutch appear Moto Guzzi heavy, although in reality they were no worse than a Superdream.
Running on taller gearing, the acceleration wasn't exactly blistering, neither fifth nor sixth being much use below 60mph but 90 to 100mph cruising in top was very relaxed, the wind taking some of the weight off my wrists. Stability was excellent, as if on rails, and I didn't find that the bike needed that much effort to throw through bends. Steering was generally neutral except when backing off the throttle in bends, which caused the Kat to tighten its line.
Not the most exciting bike to ride, then, but one capable of putting 125mph on the clock and, comfort apart, able to cruise at 100mph all day long. Not that my commuting chores allowed any such indulgences. Commuting to work through London traffic was sheer madness. Too many irate cagers desperate to prove their machoness by knocking off motorcyclists. At least the Kat was impressive in its bulk and noise, as well as being armed with engine bars. I was reassured by the way the Michelin tyres gripped the tarmac and the way the bike felt solidly planted on the road but found the front discs a bit too grabby and the riding position too radical.
Good progress was, as always, made through the chaos of London, which surely represents a modern form of warfare. Kids aren't sent abroad to fight any more, they are just let loose in expensive tin boxes to see how many peds, cyclists and motorcyclists they can maim. It's much more fun when they smash into each other there’s a certain art to riding a motorcycle, at which the GS550 excels, in a way that annoys cagers to the extent they lose control, try to charge after you and end up whacking out some other car. Blipping the throttle, letting lose a windscreen rattling growl, just as I came alongside seemed to be particularly effective!
There’s a great feeling of exhilaration in cruising past long lines of cars that are likely to stay nose to tail for hours on end. The Kat seemed quite effective at causing cagers to twitch out of our path as we roared down the middle of the road, although it was a bit heavy to throw out of the way of particularly stubborn drivers who didn't give a shit about the damage I could've caused to the front of their cars. A couple of times I had to jam on the brakes, come to a halt nose to nose with an excess of horns and angry gestures, until someone on my side of the road let me back into the correct traffic flow.
Town riding was made tolerable by the 60mpg economy, the bike’s disinclination to throw me off despite all the stupid things I did, and, of course, the expected total reliability. Valves, carbs and camchain tensioner could all be neglected. It's even possible, though not really recommended, to ignore the oil filter if lubricant changes are done every 1500 miles. Roller bearing crankshaft, gear primary drive and a build quality that wouldn't shame a 750 all help with its famous longevity.
After a period of heavy rain a few irritants cropped up. The spark plug caps started shorting out, arcing on to the cylinder head. One pedestrian went into a frenzy pointing this out to me, I thought he was going to have a heart attack right there and then. New plug caps sorted it before the sparking became so bad either the engine cut out or the bike went up in flames.
Less easily sorted were the front discs that just weren’t set up for a British winter. Or that’s the way it seemed to me. The calipers would seize up and the momentary delay in the wet before the pads began to bite always set me on edge. Even caressing the brake lever from time to time failed to ease the wet weather lag and no amount of experimentation with different types of pads helped. I just had to learn to live with 5000 mile caliper rebuilds (when the pads wore out) and dodgy wet weather braking.
Whether as a result of the tall gearing or an inherent trait, slamming the throttle shut provided some useful retardation. The rear drum was not a great help, even if its marginal performance didn't deteriorate in bad weather. There was a certain amount of snatchiness and remoteness, but this may merely have resulted from it being less than original fare. Most rear drums are a great blessing. At least the brake shoes never wore out.
Wet weather also greatly accelerated the rate at which the drive chain wore out. In the summer it'd do maybe 6000 miles, through the winter I was lucky to make 3500 miles. GS550 chains are notoriously short-lived from a combination of long swinging arm, small gearbox sprocket (though mine was one tooth larger than stock) and the swinging arm mount being a long way from the gearbox output’s axis. Also, the chain is a bit on the skimpy side and would benefit from being of the O-ring type.
I spent many a pleasant weekend dunking the chain in Linklyfe, removing links and setting up the chain tension to perfection. The pattern sprockets may not have helped matters as they are often machined slightly off centre, though mind looked OK. At least the eccentric adjusters meant alignment was perfect and adjustment easy. I have seen one GS with full chain enclosure but I don't know where you can buy this. In the end, I just bought the cheapest chain I could find and neglected it something rotten.
A further malady from winter riding was the ease with which the finish went off. Wheels, engine alloy, fork chrome (until I greased and covered with gaiters), frame paint and all the nooks and crannies needed weekly attention. The big red petrol tank and plastic cycle parts did retain their shine without any great effort on my part.
After the first year I was full of confidence in the reliability and handling, not really that upset by the minor problems outlined. I found it fun to ride, cheap to run and a great pose in town. Despite being over ten years old, the looks were still outstanding, able to turn heads and receive the usual acclaim from ignorant citizens who assumed it was some fire breathing litre plus superbike rather than a mild 550 in flash clothes. There was still enough power to burn off just about every car from the traffic light GP, so it wasn’t an illusion that was easily shattered.
I was caught up in the mythology of the bike, and the feeling that I was, once astride it, immune to the rigours of the open road. A case of massive overconfidence! It finally caught up with me one sunny Spring morning when I was determined to experience the ton down some favourite country roads. There was one straight that was just long enough for this exposure to one of the joys of motorcycling.
I worked the Kat up to speed, even with 43000 miles done the gearbox still slick (partly thanks to new joints in the gear lever linkage), finally putting 100mph on the clock with time to revel in the utter smoothness of the motor. Too much time, I suddenly realised, as a series of very tight S-bends suddenly encroached on my sense of being one with the gods!
I braked so hard the forks threatened to snap off, but not hard enough. The first curve had me off, by then at about 65mph, as I ran way wide. The front wheel smacked into the ditch that ran alongside the road, deep enough to keep the cows in the field. I had a soft landing in the mud, the bike somehow leapt back out of the ditch and destroyed what was left of itself on the tarmac. I could still walk but the Katana was a complete write-off. Never mind, I've just bought myself another one!
Andrew Pearson