Yamaha RS100

There are some bikes that will forever stay in the mind. Often, it’s the first motorcycle owned but in this case it was a ten year old Yam RS100 that I happened upon purely by chance. At the time I was in a black mood, the result of losing my job. The RS was in an even worse state than myself, looking like it'd been ridden and neglected for its whole life. Take the damn thing away, said the owner. So I did. The previous owner's disinterest was caused by the RS’s refusal to start. I thought the engine might be a goner and was prepared to fit a used motor. No, it was just the original spark plug giving up. I think it was the original one as the electrodes were worn away into the ceramic!

New spark plug, new oil in the tank and gearbox, and five kicks later the engine started. When an old stroker starts it does so with a lot of rattles and oil spewing out of the exhaust. The RS didn't disappoint. Performance was pig slow and didn’t improve when I set the points. Decoke time. I think it was the first decoke as it took a whole week to clear the carbon off. The previous owner was so ignorant he’d probably been using old car oil in the tank!

That was more like it. 60mph on the clock and enough acceleration to shove C50 commuters out of the way! The handling was a bit weird, the front wheel wanting to follow the bumps in the road rather than my directions. The original Jap tyres had cracked sidewalls and the brittleness of glass. The breaker provided Michelins after I refused some Far Eastern rubbish. He threw in a set of shoes for the front drum which was as useful as a holed condom.

After much sweating and swearing I was back on the road. The front end was no better but the brake could lock up the front wheel at 20mph. At 30mph it began to fade and daring to use it at 40mph made the whole front end judder. Shot steering head bearings. The rear drum would lock up the back wheel every time I touched the lever with my foot. I could always skid, or rather screech, to a halt if circumstances turned totally desperate.

Having plenty of time on my hands and a bike that did 100mpg meant that explorations out into the countryside became frequent. On this kind of device you have to pace yourself and not expect too much. No good wringing its neck all the time as that will just result in a molten motor. Take it easy, relax, enjoy the scenery and take the chance to talk to any other old codgers who turn up en route. Careful planning of the journey to include the maximum amount of back roads pays off in pleasure gained and sights seen. Within this context the RS was quite a splendid player which managed most of what I asked of it.

Dodgy moments came when I tried to overtake cars moving at 50 to 60mph and when really bumpy corners sent the rear shocks coil bound. The Yam weighs next to nothing and had wide bars, thus allowing ultimate control but it did bounce around rather more than one of my great age, experience and wisdom would really like to tolerate. I dare say that a brand new machine would be much more resolute but there’s no way I’m going to hand over money to the Japanese invaders.

Taking the RS on the motorway ended up with a hard shoulder saunter, which whilst quite pleasant in its way might've brought us to the attention of the plod. It was never repeated. Circumstances once conspired to make me run the Yam down a steep hill at 70mph but the vibration, wallowing and general feeling of imminent demise, of machine and self both, made sure I didn't repeat that, either.

The build quality of the chassis was not good. At the slightest excuse, the merest threat of rain or salt on the road, rust would seep out of the paint and chrome or the alloy gained a furry white coat of corrosion. It was both old and made from the cheapest materials the manufacturer could get away with without incurring a law suit for product liability. In some strange way these awful components worked well together - perhaps it was just a combination of low mass and minimal power.

RS Yamahas were quite popular in their day, meaning there are loads of bits in breakers. Even if there weren't, parts from the RXS100 will fit, or even other models in the Yamaha range or other makes altogether. At this level, the price of parts is so low that it’s quite possible to experiment. I tried to avoid this as the RS ran as well as I demanded and I was at that awkward financial point of being two years short of retirement when I lost my job. Any spare cash was eaten up just staying alive.

Whatever expectations I had of the Yamaha were much exceeded by the inexorable way it ran for a couple of years and 21000 miles (the clock had read 19000 miles but the cable was broken when I'd acquired the RS). I will admit I did the timing every 500 miles, changed the gearbox oil every 2000 miles and kept an eagle eye on the oil tank (about 200 miles per half litre).

Quite a list of bits rusted through, fell off or merely cracked or split. I became quite a regular at the breakers who never charged me more than a fiver for anything I'd taken the precaution of mentioning that I was on the dole and giving up food to run the Yamaha. Not quite true but it had the desired effect of making him pity me! If I had any pride left I wouldn't be riding the RS100, would I?

The only serious inconvenience I experienced was the back wheel breaking up. This had something to do with transporting ten sacks of cement (two at a time, | hasten to add) a week previously. I'd earned a fiver for that agitating adventure, which is exactly what a replacement wheel cost. The only problem was the four miles between myself on the RS with a broken wheel and the breakers. I phoned him up to make sure he had one, took the bus there and back, and fitted the new wheel by the roadside. The Yam already looked like it'd been attacked by a pack of vandals so I had few qualms about abandoning it for a couple of hours.

The engine finally ground to a halt when the main bearings went and the piston seized. It'd started knocking a few days previously, which added to the cacophony of general rattles and piston slap didn’t seem too great a concern. I was amazed it had lasted for so long, expected it to fail well within the first year. Yamaha sure knows how to build these strokers.

In happier (as in richer times) that would've been the end of the story and I would've moved on to something newer or bigger. However, there was very little cash to spare and after a week I was suffering from withdrawal symptoms, thrown into the blackest of despair at the emptiness of my life. Believe it or not, riding that little Yamaha out into the countryside had given.my life that little bit of edge and purpose it needed.

I visited the breaker. No chance of an RS100 motor but there was an RS125 engine somewhere. My heart raced and my eyes lit up. Eighty quid to you, mate! My face fell and blackness descended. It was so obvious to the breaker that he asked me how much I had. £40! OK, take the damn thing away before I change my mind. I was out of there as fast a drag racer off the line.

Of course, by the time I arrived home I realised I had no idea what state the engine was in. It turned over! Must be OK, then. Three hours later I was pumping away on the kickstart like a madman. Then I turned the kill switch on (or is it off?). A frenzy of rattles and smoke, it works!

It wasn't 25% better though, if anything a touch slower than the 100. The permanent smokescreen indicated that the piston or bore didn’t have long to last, but it'd do until my pension started in three months time. I felt a bit anti-social at times, leaving the countryside in a fog of pollutants but what was a man to do? He had to have wheels and even I couldn't demean myself with a pushbike. Well, I probably could, but I’d need medical attention before I got out of the street.

The bitsa lasted almost exactly three months. It may have lasted even longer but when I saw the cracks in the frame I decided the bike had had its day. You can only push things so far! The untold wealth of a state and company pension meant I had the money to pay the HP for a nearly new RXS100 - given my luck with previous Yamaha strokers what else could I buy?

The RXS is a fine motorcycle, almost brilliant within the commuter context, better in every way than the RS100, but it’s the older bike that holds a place in my heart. Without its rugged charm, who knows where I might've ended up!

J. F.