Honda CB750F2

1977 saw the birth of the Honda 750F2, the last UK model that had evolved out of the original, late sixties, CB750K1. All the bikes used the same basic SOHC engine that in some peculiar ways was a throwback to the abortions of British engineering, featuring, as it did, such antique items as a chain primary drive (albeit, a very strong hyvoid job that didn’t wear very quickly - just as well as a total engine strip was needed to fit a replacement) and a separate oil tank. OK, it was relatively smooth and had an electric start to aid bikers maimed by British bikes; it also tended to stay together pretty well.

As the K1 got older, it became heavier and slightly more stable. By the time the K7 arrived it was outclassed by several rival fours of superior design and power output. In a not untypical Honda manoeuvre the F1 was introduced with a new euro-style, a lot of hype and a slightly tuned motor that almost ruined Honda’s reputation for durability by self destructing with apparent ease.

The F2 had an impressive package of modifications, not least a de-tuned motor that stopped it falling apart, almost meeting the standards of durability found in their first four. Although it may not be so impressive that Honda had to make the bike go slower to be more reliable, at least the rider was ensured of some kind of peace of mind; not until the completely new CBX750 was introduced did Honda get back into the right frame of mind that produced the best bikes although tales of burnt out exhaust valves in these models does show that four valve technology is still not fully understood.

Despite the lack of ultimate top speed (down 5mph to 120mph) the F2 did feature higher lift cams, widened ports and bigger valves, which managed to produce 69hp at a mere 8500rpm. The F2 weighed in at 495lbsdry. It is the nearest that Honda came to perfecting the CB750 formula. The real cutting edge was achieved when the older motor was stuck in a decent chassis, Dresda, in particular, shaving off around 100lbs, allowing a stock motor to increase performance and maintain reliability - at the expense of an uncomfortable cafe racer riding position.

An immediate problem apparent on the F2, especially in the damp, wet riding days of the UK, is that the front brake doesn’t work in the wet. The F2 did have an extra disc fitted, which considerably improved braking in the dry. Swapping the stock pads for types specifically designed for use in wet weather made not one iota of difference. In fact, so bad did these brakes become in my mind that they stood right out from the rest of the machine which exudes a feeling of dependability. Naturally, when these very same brakes seize up their calipers the temptation to start bashing the whole affair with a large hammer is very hard to resist.

Whilst the bike is far from being a lightweight, town riding was no real hassle if you were willing to put in a bit of effort. At least the large wheels didn’t suddenly flop into slow corners like 16 inchers. Engine width was more of a constraint when flicking through cars than the actual mass of the machine. The bars are usefully wide for exerting pressure at low speeds, but a touch too high and wide for comfortable high speed cruising. On very long journeys this: can conspire with a heavy throttle and a wide seat that digs into the thighs to make things less than perfect.

Really fast hustling was rather inhibited by a speed wobble around 110mph and a shower of sparks in left-handers from the centre stand tag digging in. Changing direction in fast corners needed mucho muscle and stability went for a long walk if you jammed on the brakes when in the middle of a corner, although a bit of moderate engine braking by shutting down the throttle was a relatively safe way of losing speed.

When new, the suspension gives a ride that approaches excellence, and the suspension exhibits an uncharacteristic amount of damping effect way ahead of the sixties stuff and not that far short of the very modern components. Of course age is never kind to Japanese suspension - by the time the warranty has expired, and the better Wop stuff has just bedded in, the F2 suspension has to be fettled with, at the very least, the good old stand-by of heavier fork oil and Koni rear shocks. At least twin shocks are devoid of quick wear linkages and nasty maintenance problems.

The motor has been remarkably free of trouble, maintenance mostly a case of checking rather than actually adjusting. This is only as it should be, because by Jap standards it’s no powerhouse, but in return for a lack of excess of top end madness there’s a commendable middle range punch that makes the bike a pure joy to hustle along fast A roads.

No engine is totally free of problems, though, and the F2 will soon start giving trouble if regular oil and filter changes are neglected. Every 1000 miles would be a good starting point for oil changes. If you don’t do this, and use the bike hard, you'll end up rebuilding the whole top end. Expensive. The clutch is a little notorious for rattling and not quite as strong as it ought to be - but moderate use causes no harm. It’s also worth checking the motor on the overrun, or when changing down through the box, for white smoke out of the exhaust - a sure sign that the valve guides are on the way out - something that can happen from 20000 miles on.

A big plus in owning any CB750 is the interchangeability of the various parts of the different versions of the bike. This compensates for the extortionate cost of factory and, to a slightly lesser extent, pattern parts. Not that this was much of a hassle as the most expensive problem I had was replacing the rotted exhaust. A’ fair bit of persuasion was needed as the Motad 4-1 was really designed to fit one of the K series. It’s just that it was going cheap...

One of the problems of owning a bike with an engine designed ten years before the current noise and exhaust legislation is that the engine is adapted rather than designed with these constraints in mind - thus fuel consumption could be a pretty frightening 35mpg, although it did average 50mpg and even did a best of 65mpg on occasion. By way of compensation, the oil consumption was negligible.

The drive chain was an endless O-ring job that lasted for a reasonable 15000 miles, with a slight adjustment every 4000 miles. The points never needed much in the way of adjustment but oxidized badly during winter lay-ups and were replaced each year. The original Jap tyres were replaced by Roadrunners that lasted slightly longer than the Japs - only 5000 miles on the rear but 15000 on the front.

The F2 doesn’t come fitted with a kickstart and when the battery goes dead it’s a very heavy bike to push start. Also the silver in the headlamp faded to such an extent that night-time riding became very dangerous - it was cheaper to fit a pair of bolt on spots than buy a Honda unit! The speedo was wildly optimistic - an indicated 140mph was really only 120-125mph!

These are minor quibbles, on the whole the bike was a great all-rounder, dependable almost to the point of boredom. Not exactly a plodder, but then not really a scratcher either. A good bike for touring. Less weight, proper front brakes and a little bit more power would have made it a real winner.

Ginge

Suzuki X5

This story begins in the Autumn of ’81. Approaching seventeen years old and feeling depressed at being on crutches after crashing my fast and highly illegal BSA Brigand (de-restricted, it sometimes managed 65mph, honest) and being off work for a couple of weeks, I persuaded my parents to drive me around to the local bike shop to look at 250s.

Easing myself carefully back into the seat of the seat, gripping the door pillar as I did so, my helpful mother decided to close the car do for me. I had a black finger nail to match my badly sprained ankle, cuts and bruises. Even looking at the new bikes didn’t seem so much fun any more, but as I hobbled around the bikes on show, I spotted what was to become my new love and companion in life.

She was slim, attractive and fire engine red, a Suzuki GT250 X5. Smaller and prettier than the X7, not to mention cheap with an electric starter as well as decent switchgear. The whole plot looked neater and better proportioned than the rival RD200DX. Mag wheels, hydraulic front disc, slightly stepped seat, reverse cone silencers and tail unit all made her a real cracker look at. I wanted one. Well, I bought it at quite a reasonable price and after my injuries healed, I ran it in for two weeks and then the good times started to really roll.

In 11 months I clocked up over 15000 miles and it never missed a beat. I junked the ridiculously narrow rear tyre in favour of a ‘TT 100 which required removal of the gusset in the rear plastic mudguard, causing it to crack under the weight of the rear light - fixed with some Meccano. The machine did have some high frequency vibes - at certain engine speeds it felt like the dentist was drilling away at my teeth. Most of the time, though, it was bearable, but it did loosen the lid of the tail section which then flies off and scares any following car rivers. The fit of this item was, surprisingly, improved when a bus ran over it after it flew off - it was unmarked save for a few scratches.

Rear tyre life was frightening just four grand from a TT100, but the front would do 12000 miles. If the chains were finished at 6000 miles, at least I didn’t have to replace any of the sprockets. Fuel economy could be as od as 65mpg and never worse than 40mpg. The motor appeared very tough. One day, the bike changed from third to second while I was banked over in a bend - the tacho needle shot around to the stop and I kept the throttle open, the engine eventually slowing to 9000rpm. No harm was done, but it was a rather strange experience.

Top speed was never as impressive as the RD200 (have you noticed how small two strokes like these always crack the ton after a few pints have been downed and the stories get wilder as chucking out time approaches?) but I could get 82mph on the clock, crouched down on the tank. Use the pillion pegs, chin on the clock and grab the left fork stanchion and you’d be rewarded with 85mph - a lot of bother for an extra 3mph but very important to young kids.

I thought our affair had ended when I was belting along flat out, laid right over going into a left-hander, down a slight dip, some nerk in his self propelled spam car decided to reverse towards me after he’d seen some friends he wanted to talk to. I couldn’t pick the bike up and swerve around him because I would’ve gone straight through a hedge, so I took to the grass verge. All went well until the front wheel found a huge ditch, which had the bike going into a double somersault and threw me off. I woke up to find myself being hauled into an ambulance, surrounded by concerned looking citizens - if I’d realised what was to follow they would have had to come with me. I was discharged the next day with nothing worse than a terrible headache and the bike had a few bent bits but no major damage.

The law were their usual helpful selves and told me as I managed to avoid the little twerp no other vehicle was involved. The local press were even better, making out I crashed through loss of control, no other vehicle was involved and that I’d suffered brain damage. Friends started to approach me with caution, which made me angry and them more cautious.

Eventually, things returned to normal and I traded in, with a mate, the X5 for a Trident; such was his disdain for little strokers that he ran the X5 into the ground and sold it for scrap - had I known what the Trident was going to be like, I would have had the X5 back as a runaround for when the Trident played up.

Paul Henshaw

Suzuki X5

I thought something was wrong when the brother of one of my mates (a friend not a condom although some people have called him a prick) came up the path - he was in hospital, legs and arms injured, could I fetch the bike from the police and put it in my garage for a while? A while turned out to be ten months.

Four months after it’d first been placed in my garage, he recovered sufficiently to try to sell it for spares (the front wheel was cracked after it’d hit a kerb when he tried to avoid a Transit van) for £50. I offered him £15 plus some doors and that was how I became the proud owner of the X5.

I acquired a pair of X7 wheels from the breaker, but the X5 sprocket wouldn’t fit so I ended up with a lower top speed and fantastic acceleration. I fixed the cracked air filter box with Isopon and cleaned out the excrement (note, no four letter words). The forks proved troublesome, the first time they bottomed out they just stayed compressed. Had them straightened but the same trick happened - the insides of the forks were dented - rigid front ends are no fun.

Naturally, X7 forks won’t fit X5 yokes unless they're reamed out, but they did only cost £20 from the breakers. I also had to fix the oil leak from the nylon oil tank - a curious mixture of a piece from a four pint milk carton (applied with a hot screwdriver) and a patch from an inner tube glued in position with silicone gasket - this has lasted over a year to date.

I also found that the front tyre, rescued from the X5 front wheel, had an annoying habit of coming off the rim above 40mph - the wire bead had been damaged - I had to fit a used example for a fiver. It was also a terrible starter, needing at least five minutes of fiddling before it came to life, but once warm the two stroke twin started easily. New plugs didn’t help.

The bike’s been used as commuter every day on eight mile run. For long runs it’s not very economical to 40mpg, and cruising at steady 65mph produces lots of vibration - you can put the head back on a pint just picking it up after an hour's ride. On the whole, the X5's a pokey town burner and medium range tourer. I sold mine for £100 and reckon I more than had my money's worth out of it.

P. Flintoff

Honda CB550: new to 55000 miles

In the summer of '78 after 16 years of motorcycling I managed to fiddle enough of my family budget to buy my first ever brand new bike. I was lucky to find a new Honda CB550 four from RAT motorcycles, who’d just celebrated opening their shop with special bargain offers.

My expectations of this bike were somewhat confused, not only was this my first new bike, it was my first Japanese bike. A friend had claimed to have done 27000 miles on a Z1000 Kwacker with no problems, but I didn’t believe him. In truth, I expected to rebuild the motor within 20000 miles and, as I was going to commute on the bike every day, that would be a biannual event at the very least.

I took the first week of August off and spent the time with my wife riding around the Kent countryside. The CB550F2 is, I think, a particularly nice looking bike. I was well proud of it. Old habits die hard, though, and my neighbours must have thought I’d started a new religion because every time I came home I got off the bike and knelt down beside it not prayers after a ride, I was looking for oil leaks. You know, after years of riding all sorts of bikes none of which could survive a five mile ride without pissing oil somewhere, it can be most disconcerting to find after several days and a few hundred miles use that not a drop, not even a trace, of oil has escaped. And then one day, lo and behold, I spotted a little black droplet under the gearbox. At last, I thought. When, however, I poked my little cold finger in it, it set solid Linklife. That had been my first modification, to break the chain for its fortnightly fry. The 550 chain lasted for 25000 miles with this treatment.

This was also the day that the great trip to France was hatched - a mate had just bought a new Darmah and paid us a visit. There we were, out for a days ride looking at the views across the channel and thought how nice it’d be to cross over and keep going. In late September we set off, the two bikes with my wife and daughter on the pillions. Such was my paranoia about breakdowns that before I set off, I went back to RAT for a list of Honda dealers in France. I could not understand the dismissive attitude of the shop owner and was aghast when he told me he too was off around Europe, on a secondhand Z1 borrowed from the shop with 15000 on the clock.
Such foolhardiness I thought.

Needless to say, the trip went without a hitch, both bikes gave not a whiff of trouble, the 550 quite happy to bowl along the French back roads at 85mph with two up and luggage. It was quite an enlightening experience to be able to ride fast for hour after hour, and at the end of the day, nothing had broken, fallen off and no oil leaks. In the morning, the motor sounded just as sweet and ready for the off as before. You know, when you’ve had a Catholic upbringing, you accept that a few moments pleasure often reaps hours of misery and my previous experience of bikes had more than satisfied the church’s teaching. The Honda changed all that.

I learned a few things about the 550 on the trip, like the need to keep the chain well oiled otherwise it would go as tight as a bow string. I found that the three and a bit gallon tank was a tad small for the job, especially as it needed filling every 120 miles or so. I also found after a mad dash that consumption dropped to as low as 32mpg. The Duke by comparison returned 50mpg no matter what.

The return home was a bit wet and by the time we landed the Honda was filthy. I set about restoring it to its new condition as soon as possible and soon realised that to do this would mean whipping off the exhaust system. This was the first time I’d put a spanner on it apart from taking the chain off. I must say I was impressed by the simple way the sprocket is fitted to the gearbox output shaft, as I remembered having to spend hours on a similar job on an old AJS single, using pullers, hammers, tyre levers and various other instruments of torture trying to persuade a reluctant sprocket to part company with its tapered shaft.

My efforts to keep the exhaust system clean paid off as it was still sound and gleaming when the bike was sold after three years use. On one occasion I thought I’d give the insides of the silencer a treat whilst it was off the bike. I poured in about three pints of clean paraffin and shook it around for a few minutes. I then went to pour out the Aladdin blue into a tin, nothing happened. I turned the silencer over and offered the other end - again nothing.

Without more ado, I stuck the silencer back on and went for a ride with my mates. About a mile up the road, I looked into my mirror to see where everybody was but instead of my mate’s bike, all I could see was a thick fog. It took about four miles for the cloud to subside and about four weeks for my mate to get the smell of paraffin out of his clothes.

About a month after the French trip I had my first and only crunch with the Honda. I tried to squeeze between two lorries stuck in heavy morning London traffic. Just when I committed myself to the move, the truck to my left moved off. I looked up, to my horror realising that it was left-hand drive and that the driver had no idea that he was about to crush my lovely new bike. The bike was wedged under the tailgate of the truck so I leapt off. At last the Frenchman stopped to see the cause of the screaming - the Renault was just about to write off my centre stand and foot peg. When he got back in his cab he turned his power steering the wrong way; I watched in disbelief as the thing bent my indicator stalk, rev counter, tack, centrestand and chain tensioner bolt. I suspect that the damage was more expensive because the chain adjusters never lined up with their marks when the wheels were lined up with a plank.

Most of the bits straightened out, except for the stand which flicks the bike first to the right and then the left before finally settling down properly. I can’t recall that the handling was bad before the shunt, but afterwards it did not appear too bad, not that I’m all that sensitive to handling traits: once, the dealers had to point out to me that the rear wheel spokes were loose and the wheel had about two inches of lateral movement! I have to say that when I put the rebuilt wheel back in I didn’t notice any difference.

By Christmas, that first year, I was used to the bike’s reliability and went through a phase of disillusionment, mainly because the bike required so little input from me. Apart from chain maintenance, everything else seemed to need little or no attention from me. The bike was serviced every 3000 miles and oil changed every 1500 miles. A rep from one of the major oil companies advised me that Honda took worst cases when recommending oil changes and that a well used bike in our climate could go a good bit further without any risk. I changed oil at 2500-3000 mile intervals, though what I have since read and heard suggests that this advice was ill founded. Still, when I sold the bike it had 54000 miles on the clock and was not burning oil, neither was the camshaft rattling.

At the end of the first year I had 17000 miles on the clock, the back tyre was changed at 10000 miles, I fitted a Windjammer fairing and the brakes were still original. The second year was singularly unremarkable. I changed the chain and sprockets at 25000 miles. During the third year I had a near disaster when the front wheel bearings collapsed as I was about to join the A2. I was doing about 20mph and came to no harm. A few minutes later I would have been doing 85mph!

What had been a whiff of blue smoke on the overrun gradually became worse. Friends advised replacing valve stem seals. Against my better judgement I whipped off the head and did the job, along with a new camchain tensioner which was only slightly scored (at 38000 miles). I made the mistake of trying to reuse one of the old oil seals and had to do the job again to stop the oil leaks.

Whilst I had the head off, I dropped the needles down a notch to compensate for the wear - economy improved to 54mpg overall. I have a thing about fuel consumption and wouldn’t buy a bike that did less than 45mpg and it was this aspect of the CB550 that I disliked most of all. It was often quicker to keep the bike below 60mph as the less frequent fuel stops compensated for the slower speed. It returned a worst of 32mpg and a best of 74mpg, but the latter was rare. Most times around 50mpg.

I found the bike straightforward to work on and service. I had to reappraise my ideas about Japanese bikes, but wish they would spend more time on improving fuel economy and improving finish than producing 160mph projectiles. I sold the CB550 for £350 in favour of a BMW twin.

Eddie Barnes

Suzuki 650 Katana

If the 650 looks much the same as the 550 Katana, the differences are instantly apparent when the twist grip is opened up. Where the 550 has a 54hp motor no more powerful than the stock model, the 650 boasts a heavily tuned GT650 engine that knocks out a healthy 73hp, just about enough power to match the stunning looks of the Kat. While the bigger Kats certainly stand out from the crowd, they lack the integrated look of the 550/650, produced for Suzuki by Target Design, who were also responsible for the later BMWs.

Like the 550, the 650 was overweight at 500lbs, most of the difference in mass coming from the bigger bike’s shaft drive. The bike was a bit of a bitch to manoeuvre at low speeds, especially against a steep camber but at higher speeds the stability is excellent, if at the expense of sheer flickability. The shaft drive must be one of the best in the business, most of the harshness and intrusiveness apparent on other bikes is just not present on this machine. A friend on a BMW is always complaining about the way the direct shaft drive does nasty things on snow and wet roads, but the Kat behaves itself in a commendable manner.

I think part of the security I find from the bike comes from the excellent ergonomics. OK, if you’ve got short arms I can believe that the riding position is a bit of a strain as it’s a long reach to the bars over the lovely lines of the tank, but for me everything falls so easily to hand that even the thin seat doesn’t intrude too greatly into the long distance equation.

I feel the bike falls into a rather unique category. It looks like it should behave like a racer but is very civilised to own and ride. The engine is an old style four with a mere two valves per cylinder that runs out of steam come ten grand. With the heritage of the ultra tough 550 and 750 fours behind it, it’s not so surprising that reliability and longevity are its main hallmarks. Hard used engines do occasionally burn out the valves and there may be problems with some gearboxes (although, check the gear change linkage first because the joints wear fast and make the box appear jerky). The gearchange on my bike was a bit clunky, but I think that this was probably the one effect of the shaft drive rather than a direct consequence of the gearbox falling apart. Otherwise, I’ve had none of these problems.

The bike averages 40 to 45mpg under hard use or around town but the Kat returns about 50 to 55mpg on longer runs. Oil consumption was not too high - a little topping up needed every 500 miles. Engine cooling was aided by a built in oil cooler which must have helped the motor as it’s quite heavily tuned.

My main problem was with pillions who tended to complain at being stuck up in the airstream, thanks to the raised rear seat, itself not so comfortable for pillions. A few minutes at 80 to 90mph will have young ladies looking for anew boyfriend with an XRi. The brakes are the kind of thing you either love or loathe. Depending on your point of view, the front discs are either wonderfully powerful and rescue you from the craziness of blind car drivers or they are ultra sensitive things that promote excess dive and make the front wheel leap up at low speeds when the machine is leant over. I’m well used to them and think they're great.

The rear is also a disc but doesn’t intrude so viciously into my consciousness. All the disc actually work in the wet without any lag. Tyre wear can be a bit frightening, the rear cover down to the limit in less than 4500 miles, although I’ve found pad wear quite acceptable despite making a couple of emergency 100mph stops.

The GS range is well known for going through chains at an appalling rate, partly thanks to tiny gearbox sprockets, but the 650, of course, has a minimal maintenance shaft and I have a good laugh at mates who find they have to dismantle the whole rear end of their superbikes just to change the chain because there aren’t any split links in O-ring chains. Once used to a shaft, you just don’t want to go back to a dirty, noisy, troublesome chain.

I find I can do just about anything that I want with the Kat. It’s an excellent 100mph tourer if you can find the roads (it'll purr up to about 120mph), but it’s also quite nifty down the back lanes when the excellent stability compensates for the slowness of steering and excess mass.

The suspension is reasonably taut and, along with the steering geometry, makes sure that there are none of the weaves or wobbles apparently endemic to older Honda fours. I’ve ridden the thing over bumps and holes in the road when leaned over without the bike throwing a wobbly. Yes, I’m impressed with the way the thing handles.

Maybe I’ve been lucky, but I’ve had no problems with the electrics. The latest theory on why GS engines burn out their alternators is that the oil isn’t changed regularly, allowing the engine to overheat and melt the windings. Perhaps the fact that the 650 has an oil cooler helps. It’s a great pity that such a tough range of engines should be ruined by such a simple fault - all it'd take would be thicker wire or uprated electronic coma Test ride with the lights on and check the alternator and regulator/rectifier connections to see if they have been tampered with.

While on the electrics, the lights were more than adequate, the beast roared into life at the gentlest touch of the button whether we were in the depths of winter or the rare heat of a summer day, but the combined high/low indicator switch wasn’t a clever idea, as use of one function tended to operate the other as well.

Such are the looks of the Kat, that it must have gained instant classic status the moment it hit the showroom floor, the fact that those looks are backed up by a strong, powerful motor and usable chassis means that if I hang on to mine for ten years I’m sure it'll be worth a lot more than the £750 I paid for it. My only problem is that I’ve just received the insurance renewal (imagine, the 673cc Kat is vastly more expensive than the latest 600cc superbikes) and think I'll have to console myself with the thought of once having owned one of the more interesting Jap fours.

Martin Peters

Suzuki X7

After a young trainee from work was finally lynched for drinking and driving antics, 1982 saw me acquire a one year old X7 for the paltry sum of £200. It was the final model th an enclosed speedo and tacho, and black plastic square indicators.

Produced in 778, the X7 was a complete redesign of the old GT250, which had become stodgy with old age. The X7 was 40lbs lighter and more powerful, with a significant power step between 6500 and rpm; enough go to crack the magic ton.

The difference between a good and bad one can be very great, so it pays to have an extensive test ride and try a few examples. Assured that my pride and joy could actually shred the skin off a rice dding, I was only too pleased to give ‘Wino Joe’ a lift home from work after buying the bike off him. He even offered put a litre of 2T in it for me, although he assured me it ran fine without it. Jeez!

First impressions were much expected. On anything other than a smooth road it bucked, bounced and weaved all over the place on 60+mph roads, but did wonders for my ego on roundabouts, touching down the footrests rubbers on the right and centre stand lug on the left, giving a good impression of a sparkler. All this, and more, with the original Japlop Gold Seal tyres.

The seat looks quite sleek a distance but if a pillion actually sits on it, it splits. Mine was no exception, although I managed to persuade the local ‘hoods’ to provide a new one with the bike just out of warranty.

After a much needed decoke, I set about trying to make the bike handle better. First, a set of decent tyres - Pirelli Gordons were the bizz, with not unreasonable wear (10000 front, 5-7000 miles rear) for the level of grip. The steering head bearings had been over-tightened. On inspection, the races were unmarked so I just renewed the bearings (local bearing shop rather than the dealers, naturally).

New swinging arm bearings were hastily installed after a race with a Cortina (the couch v. the pogo stick) when after reaching 80mph and entering a bumpy right-hander I almost ended up sharing space with a water trough in a field full of a couple of bulls. I forget exactly how much the bearings were, but I recall picturing the salesman with a bearing up each nostril, until sanity resumed and I handed over the dosh. I also put some spacers in the forks and Konis on the back, chucked away the centre stand and bent the footrests out of the way.

The next 4000 miles were spent mainly using the X7 around town and generally making a nuisance of myself with the local fuzz. It handled reasonably well and was great for wheelies, although the chain was a flimsy 520 item which needed constant adjusting and oiling to stop the gear change from becoming sloppy. After two or three weeks of town riding the X7 would lose its edge - burning the baffles in petrol and a new set of plugs cured things... and, yes, the oil pump was set correctly, and, no, I didn’t poodle about either.

The silencers are renown for clogging up quickly and I was sure the cut-out for the back wheel bolt was robbing power from the engine. Petrol was drunk at between 35 and 45mpg, 2T disappeared at 350mpp, chain and sprockets were finished in 7000 miles, disc pads in 8000 miles and rear shoes in 9000 miles. The only other consumables were plugs in 2000 miles, the odd clutch cable and three tacho cables that never seemed to last however much I oiled them.

By 8500 miles vibration was becoming a problem, the X7’s crankshaft is by far its worst feature, being very fragile and not likely to last more than 12000 miles if the performance is used and considerably less if the engine is tuned.

I had a brain lapse at this point and opted for a £150 rebore, pistons and crankshaft from Dino racing - expensive, but well worth it. After running in the rebuilt engine for 500 miles, it was as good as new and I celebrated by going to Donnigton to watch the Easter Transatlantic races, two hundred miles away, in the company of a 350YPVS and GPz750. My mates were quite surprised at how well the X7 ran. It had a bit of an 75-80mph thrashing there and back (which I duly paid for in petrol, down to a record low of 28mpg at one point).

Growing ever fonder of the bike, I was tempted to try tuning it with the help of some articles in Rocket Socket Monthly, but the weak crankshaft kept pricking my conscience, so I opted for a set of Allspeeds, junking the foam air filters and putting in 105 main jets. The acceleration was fantastic for such a small bike, but maximum power was developed at 7500rpm - at 7501rpm it felt like someone had switched off the ignition, so sudden was the loss of power. Top speed was down to 85mph. After covering 20000 miles on X7s, and owning various 250s from Superdream to 250LC, it must still rate as one of the most desirable small bikes around.

Bruce Wilson

Kawasaki ZX1100

My ZX1100 was picked up in August ’83 and carefully run in. The bike was a real change from the Z1000ST that I'd previously owned, although both bikes had their roots in the '73 Z1 which stole the thunder from the sixties Honda CB750 four; for a long time Kawasaki had been king of the road (and reliable to boot) and there I was with the king of the air-cooled range away from the ears of the safety conscious bureaucrats it was whispered that the ZX would do 150mph straight from the crate.

In fact, the bike was a real change from anything else I’d owned previously: drop bars, rear-sets, large tacho, tiny speedo and idiot lights galore with a rather weird tank mounted console that looked like some relic left over from a NASA project when the ignition was turned on. Beyond this, actually riding the thing I was immediately aware that the combination of riding position and frame mounted fairing actually made high speed blasts a comfortable proposition. As mileage clocked up this became more apparent as higher revs allowed increased cruising speeds and I began to wonder how I suffered at the hands of the ST.

These higher speeds. also illustrated that even given the build quality of a big Kawasaki, by the time 1100cc are reached the pistons are indeed quite hefty and the secondary vibes can’t so easily be dismissed as in a smaller four - the right-hand mirror dropped off on one occasion and the clocks started leaping up and down when the mounting screws went AWOL. To be fair, this vibration was slight but noticeable; had Kawasaki’s engineers admitted fallibility and employed the Japanese equivalent of Loctite then I probably wouldn’t be daring to criticise them. More disturbing still, some miles later, the fairing began to slowly resonate, which increased to a wobble until the whole thing started flapping about and all but fell off but for the intervention of my left hand. On checking the thing at home I found that the main fairing stay had broken - replaced under warranty the following week and apparently a common fault on early bikes.

Early in 1984 I was travelling through Collingham near Leeds when a crazed cock pheasant came flying over a low wall and careered straight into my handlebars - the damn thing nearly unsaddled me, and if you ever come into bodily contact with such a creature be warned, it’s just like somebody hitting you with a house brick. Even worse than that was the way the bike reacted once the original tyres were slightly worn. Mild bumps had the bars shaking to and fro, but one day I went over a sunken manhole cover whilst adjusting my visor. The front end began wobbling then suddenly went into a massive tank- slapper at 40mph. I managed to grab hold of the bars with both hands and hold on tight. How I didn’t fall off I don’t know but of all the hairy moments I’ve had (and I’ve had a few) this had to be rated as the worst. A new pair of tyres and steering damper were quickly purchased.

At about this time I saw some fairing lowers for sale at £69. They arrived very quickly and the red colour match was spot on. That Saturday the brother-in-law and I spent all day trying to fit the things only to find the mounting brackets were no good. Monday at work consisted of about four hours production and the same amount when the foreman’s back was turned fixing the brackets.

On trying the bike out it was a great improvement as I now had what was in effect a full fairing. The new tyres, Pirelli Phantoms, gripped superbly and made the bike feel much safer. On the motorway the protection afforded by the GRP meant you could really tram on with hardly a care in the world and arrive as fresh as a new born lamp. On one journey a mate on an unfaired CBX1000 arrived quite shattered but I was ready to do it again right then. The only compromise I had to make with this newly acquired masterpiece was a grade cooler set of plugs just to keep things from getting too hot and bothered inside the fairing.

I really began to like the bike a lot. It was big and flash, a real head turner but one with an insatiable appetite for consumables - the Phantoms were well worn by 3000 miles and the brake pads needed replacing after a mere 5000 miles on the back and 3000 miles on the front. This may have had something to do with the fact that I frequently pulled 130mph and once took it to 145mph without any real cause for concern, and reckon that 150mph should be possible.

On decent tyres the bike handled well, but only in the context of a heavyweight, air cooled multi and not the latest hyperbikes which would run rings around the old dear. As the suspension got older the propensity for high speed weaves became greater, but that nasty kind of tank slapper never made a reappearance.

After 20 months of reliable and enjoyable ownership, the bike began to fart and pop when the throttle was closed after cruising at a steady speed. Also the engine revved more when the throttle was closed than opened after blipping the throttle. This was diagnosed as fuel injectors out of synchronisation. This was fixed but I decided it was about time I’d traded in for a new bike - with 23000 miles on the clock the bike was part ex’d for a GPz900.

The ZX was certainly the ultimate air cooled four, the end of a line of fours that had proved themselves as incredibly tough and reliable. I would not have been surprised if one of these bikes made it to 100000 miles. But, the sorry fact is - that. the technology that made the ZX such a great bike in its days has been superseded by lighter, more compact and equally powerful bikes that are easier to ride and cheaper to run. If the ZX is an expensive beast to run, it’s also an exhilarating one to ride and prices of used ones are not extortionate, if you don’t like or trust the new water-cooled fours, the ZX is there for the taking.

A week after I bought the GPz there was a knock at my door and a policeman asking me if I was Andy Wood. I admitted this and was accused of doing 70mph in a 40mph zone and refusing to stop when asked. Luckily, this was merely because the guy who bought the ZX had not informed Swansea of the change in ownership and once I showed him the bill of sale he accepted this. Turned out the guy who bought the ZX used to work in the same place as myself - the following year he wrote it off when some drongo pulled out of a junction right in front of him - a tragic end to a magic motorcycle.

Andy Wood

Honda XBR500

To say that I was looking forward to getting on an XBR would be an understatement. Only a year ago I was totting up the readies for a deposit! Fortunately, I have been saved from serious debt by the permanent loan of a 30000 miler XBR, all mine to despatch to my hearts content.

I had consumed all the test reports, so I knew what to expect, good solid thumper, classic styling, cheap and cheerful, but as is often the case, past comments by journalists on new machinery bore little relevance to the real thing (the real thing being used, working bikes).

Visually the XBR is a strange case, a sort of Dave Degens (of Dresda fame) meets Superdream. The engine looks purposeful, despite the ghastly Morphy Richards styled oil plumbing over the engine case. The tank and seat swoop down to give a very secure seating position, despite my XBR looking a bit of a camel with its ‘caravan’ bunged on the seat, the overall impression is favourable. Certainly, fun looks like it can be had, and it can, but sadly the fun is limited.

For several years now the Japanese have been attempting to build roadster 500 singles. In every case I can think of they have failed to build anything that could be called reliable, cheap and fun. Which is odd, as all appeared to be enlarged versions of perhaps the most famous single of all time, the Honda 50. Not surprisingly, Honda want to sell single cylinder motorcycles so here we have the latest attempt at a blast from the past.

At around two grand new, the XBR was/is cheapish, but not exactly bargain basement. If I was going to spend that kind of money I’d want to be pretty sure what I was getting was what I wanted. I personally think one would have to be a bit crazy to pay for pure, unremitting torture, but then some people do, don’t they? Pass the chains and whip, Madame Andree... whoops.

The XBR has to be one of the most uncomfortable bikes I’ve ever ridden. Why Honda didn’t put the handlebars six inches lower is a mystery, at least then one could rest ones chest and chin on the tank. In fact, why were at it, why didn’t they remove the seat altogether and drape a piece of Fablon over the frame rails? Just like the old days when men were men and haemorrhoids were haemorrhoids. Even the stupid bum pad seat thing is too far back for anyone less than seven feet tall.

What really makes it all so uncomfortable is the engine. Below 60mph/4000rpm the engine vibration is tolerable, 60mph is a great speed, one can watch the countryside go by, clean the dirt out from under finger nails, think about what’s for tea... Jolly good fun too, on a 125, but a 500? Above 6000rpm vibration is mind numbingly apparent. Trying to go fast is a truly horrible experience, increasing the revs just increases the unpleasantness. The riding position and vibration conspire to keep you well away from those newfangled motorways and leave you driving round and round on your favourite urban trace track, Which, thankfully, the XBR excels at. Indeed, it is an inspiring scratcher.

With a set of Metzler Lazers it feels almost Italian. ALMOST, I SAID. ALMOST. Very solid at the front, so solid, in fact, that jumping off the XBR onto a VT500 is a very frightening - experience. Funnily enough, what it really reminds me of is the old Honda CB72. I would not say that the XBR is a slow steerer, I have found no trouble in weaving in and out of the stationary mass blocking up the streets of London. Wrist ache is chronic and tiring, it desperately needs a set of VT bars but they will not easily fit.

It possesses a lovely exhaust note that only starts to irritate around half past five (eh? - Ed) [I'm thinking it only began to annoy after a full day's despatching? 2022 Ed.] ally blind. Until the 30000 mile old air filter was replaced fuel consumption was a staggering 35/40mpg. The new filter has taken the consumption back to the usual 50mpg. Which shows clearly what neglect in the servicing department will do.

I had rather suspected the worn out chain and sprockets were responsible for the bad vibration, but no, new bits just cleaned up the gear change a little. And the twitching from the rear end that manifests itself on fast roundabouts will, no doubt, all but disappear when the worn plastic swinging arm bearings are replaced with new plastic swinging arm bearings. Ho, hum.

Talking of servicing, a problem has arisen on my particular XBR. Yes, it’s Honda’s disappearing front disc brake. Discs wearing away before the pads is a little over the top - after all, this isn’t a racing machine, is it? And at nearly £90 each you can breathe a sigh of relief that you didn’t buy a Honda CB350 which sports two discs that apparently wear out by the time 10000 miles have past (now will you believe me when I say drum brakes are better? - Ed). It’s amazing, isn’t it, how Honda can get: away with selling such things.

The brakes on both bikes are very effective but the irony is that due to the high cost of replacement, they could easily end up in a dangerous state. I have seen a hell of a lot of worn out brake discs on the front of despatch bikes in London. So much for the cheap and cheerful, huh? I guess what Honda have done with the XBR is create quite a realistic 1950’s, early 60s cafe racer, uncomfortable, noisy and vibratory. So it’s not difficult to see why so many one owner, 3000 miler, XBRs appear in the pages of MCN. In fact, the whole classic roadster 500 single myth, as far as I can see it, has blown up in the face of the Japanese.

And it’s not as if they can’t build decent big thumpers. Look at how popular Kawasaki’s KLR600/650 is - why go for all the nostalgia stuff when for a few hundred more notes you can have the latest stuff. With a less daunting seat height, a set of heated grips and handlebar muffs, a KLR650 would certainly be my idea of coping with a winters despatch riding. All that long travel suspension is becoming a bare necessity here in London, where normal suspension is becoming almost entirely inadequate to cope with the potholes, ditches, ruts and rubbish, a good enough excuse for banning cars.

As a despatch tool it has to be admitted that the XBR isn’t perhaps the most suitable machine around, but covering such a high mileage in such a short period, does allow one to find good and bad areas of machine design and suitability, a great deal quicker than the normal owner or glossy journo for that matter.

I’m glad I didn’t buy one before I had the opportunity to have an-extended 3500 mile road test. In fact, if dealers offered to let punters have a reasonable road test, I wonder just how many people would be suitably impressed? I think this is a real problem, I don’t know of any dealers that will let you take even a used bike out for a blast.

The XBR, like a lot of Japanese bikes, has an air of speciousness. I think Honda are certainly the worst proponents of the fake motorcycle, what with the fake bellmouths of the CBX750, the fake cast handlebars and bean can silencers of the CB350, the fake Smiths clocks of the XBR... and those are just the superficial things.

It’s possible to buy one of these machines for as little as £800, but spending £1100 might be a better idea. Listen very carefully to the top end, they normally sound quite like a Ducati, a solid mechanical rumbling is fine. Listen for any hollowness, as_ this could be the rocker assembly saying an expensive farewell. In fact, worn top ends sound almost exactly the same as a clapped SR500 (which, incidentally will keep going even in the most appalling condition). At least the XBR made it past 30,000 miles with few engine problems, which many Jap bikes seem to have trouble doing these days.

Is anyone out there building an XBR framed VT500? No, I thought not, shame really because it might be fun to drive. Come to think of it, has anyone done anything to a VT500 other than put petrol in it or maybe painted it a different colour and put a trailer on the back? Oh sorry, I promised never to make fun of the VT (snigger, snigger).

Robert Garnham

Suzuki GSX550

Browsing through the MCN classifieds en route to work one very ordinary Wednesday morning my heart suddenly skipped a beat. Tucked away at the end of the Suzuki section there it was Suzuki GXS550, D reg, 6000 miles, light damage £1250ono. Upon looking through the new bike prices it appeared to be listed at three grand and discounted to £2500.

Was it really conceivable that I could replace my aging GS750 with a D reg bike of comparable performance for only twice the value of the GS. No, it must be hype, that light accident damage probably meant a bent frame and forks. Of course, the only way to find out was to telephone the vendor.

It soon transpired that the bike was being sold by a dealer who'd bought the damaged bike from an insurance company. If his story was to be believed, the guy who had owned the bike had thrown it up the road following the common occurrence of a motorist pulling out in front of him. From what the dealer said, the fairing lowers had absorbed most of the impact, and in the process scrapped themselves. There was also a broken anti-dive unit and a bent frame, which the dealer had straightened on his jig he was willing to give me a certificate that it was within manufacturer’s tolerances and was able to transfer the guarantee.

Upon further questioning it was revealed that the bike was six months old and had been standing for five months while the insurance company delayed payment for as long as possible. When I asked why, if the damage was so light, he didn’t repair it himself, he replied that it was too much trouble. This should have got the alarm bells ringing, but when he added that it was virtually as new and could be ridden away, my heart raced ahead of my brain.

The next step was the most difficult - persuading the wife. Fortunately, I had been paving the way for some months in advance by a subtle process of indoctrination. In principle she liked the idea of posing on the back of an almost new bike. Her self esteem had taken several knocks recently. First, she had experienced the ignominy of being seen pushing our elderly GS750 after it had expired some miles from home due to an electrical problem. Second, she had been forced to walk a couple of miles, fully togged up in riding gear, after another breakdown. I had been telling her how much more reliable a new machine would be - it would also be lighter and much smarter. Tentatively, she asked me to establish what colour the bike was. What colour? Anything to oblige when I told her it was red and black she appeared to be impressed and said if I could get the price reduced by £200 it could be mine.

The dealer said the price was negotiable but only by £100, and that the front brakes needed a part that he couldn’t obtain to make them work, but offered to trailer it to my home. I quoted various impressive quotes from road tests at the wife; by the time I'd finished even the dog was keen. After a sleepness night I was at the building society before the doors were open, somewhat amazed that the wife had allowed me extract a large proportion of our life savings. The new windows we had planned would have to wait. I had omitted to inform her of the full extent of the damage and the cost of fairing lowers.

We took the car to Southampton where the dealer lived three and a half hours of traffic jams - the traffic was almost as bad there as London and we were promptly lost. We eventually found the shop, which was quite large, with an interesting selection of machinery from new MZs to commuter Japs and street racers. I spotted the GSX almost immediately. Apart from a small number of scratches and a little corrosion, it was almost in as new condition. A certificate was quickly produced to say that the frame was within specifications. The main damage was, indeed, limited to the fairing lowers and right fork anti-dive. With only 600 miles on the clock, the engine sounded as new, burbling away quite happily as we talked. I got the impression that there was a touch of harshness but the dealer said it was just in need of its first service. After a bit of haggling we agreed a price of £1150 inclusive of delivery to my home.

When I got the bike home I was able to examine the GSX properly and could find no greater damage. The next day I phoned around the breakers trying to obtain an anti-dive unit. After calling Scotland, the North West and London, I eventually located one which upon payment of an exorbitant price of £40 arrived in my hands within 4 days.

After some difficulty I managed to obtain some pressure from the front brake lever, so off I went on my first test tide. First impressions were of smoothness and compactness, it felt light and nimble, moderate bend swinging was accomplished without a thought and reminded me of the ease with which I could flick an FS1E through the curves. The brakes appeared very powerful, the front discs pinning the front end down in a controlled and stable manner, although the rear disc brake was too powerful, locking up the back wheel, but used with respect helped to balance up the weight distribution when braking. The only real fly in the ointment was the clunky gear shift, downward changes requiring a double jointed dexterity through the six speed box. However, this appears to have improved with acquaintance.

Shortly afterwards the bike was taken for its first service, carried out by the local Suzuki agent at a cost of £50. The mechanic confirmed my own findings that the machine was in first class order with no legacy of the accident and Suzuki confirmed that the warranty could be transferred to me without any hassle.

Gradually, the running in period was completed and slowly more and more performance could be used. There is no discernible power band as such. Acceleration is brisk provided all the revs are used, although the addition of a passenger tends to affect acceleration quite markedly and it’s necessary to have six grand on the clock to really make a go of it. Compared to my 750 there is quite a lack of mid-range pull. This becomes really noticeable when trying to overtake a line of cars, at say 50mph, two-up.

Whilst the handling is generally very good I have encountered several small problems which prevent it being defined as excellent. First, the 16" front wheel does tend to fall into corners - I’ve become accustomed to it but never feel entirely happy. The other handling problem is caused by tyre wear - the rear tyre lasted only 3000 miles, the front 5000. Once the tyre becomes worn down to 2-3mm a weave sets in at 80mph and white-lining occurs. Arrowmaxes seem to be the best tyres to fit.

While on the subject of replacement parts I have been unable to obtain a pair of matching fairing lowers despite scouring the MCN classifieds virtually every week for about a year. Also, it seems that none of my local dealers carry stocks of even basic spares so that it’s nigh on impossible to obtain spares the same day. The price of these spares is something else. New fairing lowers were priced at £136 each several years ago (according to one of the monthly mags). The cheapo plastic mudguard then cost £46 and the CDI ignition unit £138. How anyone can afford these exorbitant prices I'll never know and they have probably increased by now.

I am unable to comment on durability since I try not to use the GSX in wet weather, preferring my ageing Superdream. However, the residue of the corrosion which took place when the bike was stored either outside or somewhere very damp following the accident is still apparent. The two inner exhaust pipes are rusting, the wheels are still pitted despite my attempts to polish them out. The black paint on the engine has chipped off and some of the thinly applied silver frame paint is Tusting away. I hate to think what the bike would look like if it was used all year round and on salted roads. Having said that, from a distance the bike still looks presentable.

I have recorded fuel consumption throughout the whole period of my ownership - best overall figure was 65mpg (achieved during running in), worst 56mpg and the average is over 60mpg. I don’t use all of the performance all of the time, but suspect that these figures would reflect the average use of most GSXs. A fuel gauge is fitted and shows red either just before or just after reserve is needed. At times, when fuel runs out the engine stops dead and. won’t tun until reserve is turned on, not very funny under certain circumstances. Another problem is that the engine will cut out without any warning at traffic lights, and the like, when the motor is revved for a swift take off. I’ve also had trouble with the anti-dive unit I fitted as there is a small leak of hydraulic fluid which eats away the paint on the fork leg - it’s such a nuisance to bleed the whole system that I’ve decided to live with it.

The motor continues in the tradition of the ultra tough GS550, but is slightly more finicky in that the sixteen valve head required more attention and the gearbox isn’t as tough. Problems on high mileage or thrashed and neglected bikes centre around the electrics with the same neat trick of burning out alternators and regulators as on earlier bikes. But I’ve not had that problem - yet. The clutch is also likely to terminate itself if the bike is subjected to excessive drag racing antics.

Top speed is around 125mph, although I’ve only ever had it up to 115 on the clock. Handling is probably the best I’ve ever experienced but this has to be put against my increasing age - it could just be I don’t push the bike as near to the limit as I used to. That said, in comparison with the latest hyperbikes (which admittedly I haven’t ridden but would dearly love to) I would guess the 550 loses out heavily in speed and has twitchy handling.

If you don’t ride around like an accident looking for somewhere to happen then the GSX is more than adequate, my only real reservation regarding the bike as an all-rounder is the lack of mid-range punch, Detained worth giving one a test ride if you’re in the used market for a 550 there are some nice bargains around if you look hard enough.

Martin Bradley

Honda C50

The spark plug of the C50 was worn loose again. There were half a dozen of us, just kids aged between 13 and 15. What to do? Ideas buzzed between us and Araldite emerged by a process of natural selection - well, split six ways we could just about afford a tube. The only problem with Araldite was that you had to leave it overnight to set. We had plenty of time to look over the wreck - it had been given to us as a non-runner by some old OAP who got tired of us crowding into his garden shed to watch him building his Velocette single.

It was a refuge from his wife, who was as stout as a fully dressed Gold Wing and as shrill as an LC on open pipes. We were generally well behaved, somewhat awed by the brutal power of the Velo and only really got out of hand when we appropriated a flagon of his home brew - that was when he’d given us the Honda and told us to bugger off. He was later persecuted by the Social Services for child molesting, so perhaps we made a lucky escape.

The first time I ever rode anything not powered by my own legs was aboard that Honda C50. The auto clutch was somewhat jerky, as soon as first was engaged it’d leap forward or stall depending on how much throttle was applied. Second gear didn’t work so it had to be screwed in first and changed straight into third. Of course, the brake pads didn’t work and the oil hadn’t been changed in a decade. It was about 25 years old and had gone around the clock at least once.

We didn’t dare ride on the toad. For one thing we didn’t have helmets, so the police would’ve been onto us before we'd done a few yards. We used to push the bike about three miles, up and down several steep hills, to where a new motorway was being built. There was a long straight section that was finished but cordoned off from the rest of the road system. It was great fun to take turns to zoom up and down. We once had all six of us on the bike at one time.

When we were feeling really daring, we'd ride off the motorway up some country lanes, but this was dangerous as the brakes were pathetic probably metal on metal. The engine tended to seize after prolonged use or multiple simultaneous use, but it usually recovered after cooling down or being wheeled backwards.

Eventually the clutch went completely, but we bodged it so that it was on all the time you had to run along the bike, leap on and whack her into first gear, there was a sort of lurch and then she’d take off. It was quite easy to find neutral because second gear could be used for this purpose.

One day, the rusted rear end collapsed completely and we had to find a fiver for a used frame from a breaker - we were going to nick this but they had this huge dog that seemed to sense such inclinations, so we had to pay up. It took a weekend to strip one bike and bung it all on the other - we had to Araldite six or seven nuts on because the threads were stripped, but we eventually succeeded.

Unfortunately, the new frame must have been bent because the bike went to the right rather viciously. The new starting technique had to take this into account - too much throttle when you leapt on and the thing would twist the right and you’d fall off. But we were young and our bones supple then, so it was no great problem.

When one of our number reached sixteen, he got his provisional licence and we pretended it was a moped. We even gave it a coat paint and some new brake pads. We all took it in turn on the pillion - first the rider leapt on to get her going the the pillion had to leap on while the bike was doing about 55mph. One of our group had his marriage prospects serious hindered when he missed the seat and landed on the light; another suffered a similar fate when the bike did a wheelie and he was thrown off the back.

The engine eventually blew up in a big way, with holes the crankcase that were to large to fill with Araldite. We could have found a spare engine but everyone was starting to go their own way. Three of us had FS1Es in bits in in garages that we were trying to to build, whilst the others had rich enough parents to go the HP route.

We all found the C50 great fun and very educational - at least it kept us off the street and from turning into football hoodlums. That was a few years ago and were all still on the roads riding much bigger and more powerful machines; were it not for the enthusiasm found in playing with that little Honda then doubt if all of us would have pursued this great hobby of ours. It follows, doesn’t it, that all youths should be issued with battered step thrus to keep them from getting bored and wrecking city centres - with a little luck the real thugs will maim or kill themselves off before they harm others.

Chris William

Yamaha XT500

A few years back, as a penniless student, I hacked about on a succession of Tiger Cubs of increasing dilapidation, which tended to feature baler twine as a structural element and frequently lost vital parts at awkward moments. At the time, I could not afford to ride anything at all respectable, and tax and MOT were something one simply tried to imagine. I had my eyes fixed firmly on the future.

On a low-life tour of Europe I saw one of the first XT500s, a thinly disguised road going version of the TT enduro iron that had cleaned up the Yank circuits. To a Tiger Cub man weaned on 10hp, this monster, with that shocking great cylinder head trying to poke through the tank, was strong medicine. I wanted one.

I finally bought my XT as an unfinished project, through a pal in the trade. I had waited the best part of a year to find one, and it occurred to me at various times that they seemed a bit rare, considering how popular they had been when first introduced. I should have realised that there was probably a good reason for this, but love is blind...

The previous owner was one of those sorts who think that red paint is a substitute for money. Rather than give the motor the rebore it desperately needed, he’d painted the frame red. Rather than buy any new gaskets or oil seals, he’d painted the tank red. And added Red Hermetite to the old gaskets. Cables had been meticulously clad in lurid yellow sheathing, but not oiled, alloy parts had been polished to a mirror shine, but the points were pitted beyond salvage. You get the picture?

A few moments running after about 200 kicks revealed massive oil leaks around the head, and the red gasket oozing out all around the mating faces of head, barrel and rocker box, convinced me that it was not sane to go on. Sure enough, removing the sludge traps revealed them to be full of red gunge, and the oil filter element was an old, partially collapsed, item that a certain mental snail had deemed fit to go back into the motor.

Fortunately, there are no return oil feeds in the XT - the oil runs down the valve gear and then just pours off down the camchain tunnel. In any other motor, such use of Hermetite would have needed a complete strip to clean it all out again. Was this the beast that so fired my imagination?

The two valve, four stroke engine was of very conventional, if not outdated, design. The Japs commenced development of the XT exactly where BSA had left off with the last B44. This bike, especially in Cheney Victor form, had demonstrated the potential of the big single to deliver modern levels of performance in a compact, lightweight format with adequate concessions to road use.

The engine had become as snappy as possible using pushrods, whilst the stroke had become shorter and shorter to allow higher revs and produce freer breathing. Yamaha explored these themes further, with a short stroke (87 x 84mm), OHC engine featuring a light, short skirted piston. Though huge by Japanese standards, the flywheel still let the 9:1 compression motor spin very freely. The result was a real short-stroke Manx motor (oops, just drowned the editor’s desk in irate letters) and once laced into an oil bearing frame (suspiciously similar to some BSA items) the motor was really sweet and went well when new!

Much hassle ensued before the motor was able to perform in something approaching a normal manner. A rebore was the first priority. No trouble getting the seals, gaskets and various odd bolts, but the piston was ten weeks. I was lucky, back in 1980 a friend had to wait for 19 weeks and this was when they were still in production! The piston is a real problem with the XT because the skirt is so short that the piston tries to rotate about the gudgeon pin with every stroke. This wears everything out double quick and even new pistons clatter like mad. Strangely, the SR500 has a piston with a longer skirt and this may fit the XT.

Everything else had survived surprisingly well - cam lobes, valve stems and rockers were barely worn (the age of the bike was indeterminate as the speedo drive worm had seized at 20000 - it could have done two or three times that). Putting it back together was no problem I can recommend this as an easy motor to work on. The internals, except the piston, are pretty butch and sizeable, the clutch in particular seemed very strong. It’s a pity that Yamaha got the electrics wrong. The separate ignition generator was hardly up to raising a kitten’s fart, and if there’s one thing a big single needs it’s a fat spark.

Combined with the poor carb it all but managed to wreck the usability of the big single. The problem with the XT was that the head became very hot (partly due to the restricted oil cooling from a very thin supply pipe to the head), whilst the carb also had to feed a cold motor without flooding. It didn’t work all that well. Unless all the adjustments are spot on, a huge power gap occurs during take off instead of the usual slight hiccup.

The SR had an accelerator pump fitted and the final XT motor combined a flat slide carb and CV carb in a twin choke setup. The carb on the 500 also featured twin cables operated by a bellcrank, that meant to adjust the needle the carb had to be ripped out or turned on its side and fiddled with using prayers and a magnetised screwdriver you only had to remove the tank to do the latter. Another slight nasty were the crankcases which, to help keep the bike’s mass down to around 300lbs, were made from a magnesium alloy which is marginally lighter than aluminium, but vaporizes on contact with salt...

On the road, all is as you’d expect. After running in, all 32 horses seemed to be on parade and the acceleration was pleasantly brisk. This one really will pull from any revs, but the primitive chain transmission with cush drive in the rear wheel hub snatches, if you stretch a point, and stretches the chain.

Over 60mph it begins to lighten up at the front, but a 90mph bash up the motorway was no problem, apart from hanging on to the wide bars. Cornering on a Dunlop Trials Universal rear and Mudplugger front was predictable, rather like a flat tracker with plenty of understeer and no sudden sliding. I imagine that the new kinds of trail/road tyre from firms like Metzeler would allow you to get the pegs on the deck with no trouser trouble. Which is more than can be said for the brakes, they were replaced with a disc on the later model for reasons that will become apparent to anyone who tries to use the drum at 90mph.

Off road, the XT is a bit of a tank, but I enjoyed it most on dry trails up mountains, when its huge torque allowed progress up any slope in second gear at zero revs. Luckily, no end of engine braking is available down the other side. The appearance of mud filled me with dread, however, as the inadequate tyres filled up instantly turning the bike’s lorry like bulk into a real liability. Decent tyres improve matters a lot; it’s well sprung at the front and Nitro gas shocks on the back are brill until they wear out.

Economy is no great shakes at about 60-70mpg, but bear in mind that you have to spin the motor a bit to really fly - driving with restraint improves that figure. Lighting is 6V and the bike will run without a battery. Try not to come off at speed as the forks and frame bend real easy.

A final word of warning to anyone contemplating an XT - spares are very expensive and difficult to find, there are next to no bikes at all in breakers and direct communication with the importers proved to be difficult. All XTs of similar age are likely to have the same thing wrong with them - the pistons and people tell me that the gearbox expires as well, though mine was fine.

The XT is a Jap classic - just as the CB750 introduced the idea of the transverse four so the XT re-introduced the big thumper, a class that is alive and well today. If you can find an original, unraced job for about £300-400 and don’t mind waiting for bits, go for its collectability. If you want a bike for everyday use, go for the later 550 or 600 with better carb and brakes, not to mention monoshock rear. The SR has the same motor but with an alternator, the castings are almost the same, but the SR has CDI in place. of the XT’s points. The units are otherwise interchangeable, although the SR motor is a wee bit heavier, and you’d have to either transfer all the ignition gubbins or fit the XT magneto (bolts straight in) and fit the points to a modified clutch cover.

The overall picture is of a pioneering design; the first of its kind from Japan, and one whose popularity exceeded all expectations. As a result of the clamour for the original, Yamaha felt encouraged to proceed with development enter the Paris-Dakar race, and the rest is history, not to forget Honda, Kawasaki et al turning out equivalent bikes.

Paul Calomen

Honda CBX250

It was April ’86, I’d just sold my Honda RS250 and a new bike was on the cards. Unsure exactly which machine to acquire, I started trekking around the dealers. Quite by chance I came across the CBX sitting in the corner of a showroom covered by a blanket. One glance at the machine confirmed my suspicions that this was not just a tarted up version of the RS but a whole new bike. I was told it was not ready for sale, one of the mechanics had dropped it on the way home. The damage was mostly cosmetic, bent clutch lever, footrest and scratched paint.

After some haggling and the sight of my wad emerging from a poly bag, a deal was struck - £750 and the bike taken away that day. After a trip home to collect my riding gear, I returned to find the bike cleaned up, waiting for my attention on the forecourt. The bright red paint shone in the spring sunshine. The CBX bore little detail resemblance to my old RS250. The CBX had a larger petrol tank, big round headlamp, revised styling and instrumentation, not to mention a new DOHC engine with the letters RFVC on the cylinder head, a six speed gearbox, twin carbs, thicker forks plus a fork brace, twin piston caliper and bigger front disc.

First riding impressions revealed a very smooth and quiet machine - at traffic lights I kept glancing at the tacho to see if the engine was still running. Like the RS, the engine has balance shafts to quell the primary vibration produced by the single cylinder engine, and the engine is smoother than the older design, vibration becoming noticeable only when the motor is strung out to the redline, even then it’s not exactly shaking your teeth out.

For once, Honda actually showed some progress in their engine design, gone were the bad old days of the seventies when each new 250 twin went slower and had worse fuel consumption. Power of their single was up from 26 to 31hp and fuel economy improved from an average of 60 to 70mpg. In fact, I found that when I rode the CBX moderately I could achieve as much as 100mpg. As Ducati were doing the same thing with their 250 singles 15 years ago, this isn’t anything to really crow about, but the CBX is a Honda and combines its performance and economy with eminently civilised behaviour.

As this 250 only weighs 286lbs, its 31hp goes a long way. The bike shoots up to 70mph rapidly, fast enough to shock some much bigger bikes, but then starts to slow, especially once fifth and sixth are hit as these gears are very tall, although this has the benefit of allowing relatively relaxed cruising speeds for such a low capacity bike. It’s quite happy to cruise between an indicated 80 and 90mph, but the slightest headwind or incline means playing footsie with the slick gearbox and light clutch. The magic ton was possible, head glued to the handlebars, downhill with a following wind.

The old RS was famous for its good riding position and excellent handling, fortunately the CBX imitates the older bike in these fields. Handling is where the little bike really excels itself, a combination of lightness, narrowness and low centre of gravity make twisty roads pure joy. Even with the Japanese tyres it was hard to find its limits, it had an uncanny ability to stay on line over all sorts of road surface.

So delightful was the handling, and so secure the sensation, that there was a real danger of getting carried away and forgetting that even the CBX was limited by the laws of physics and tyre adhesion - a flash of sparks from the exhaust was a sure sign that you were going a bit too far. Many a superbike owner was left scratching his helmet trying to keep up on the curves. Of course, another failing of the RS may rear its head in the future, the older single wore out its shocks rapidly and started weaving; there was as yet no hint of this misbehaviour on the CBX.

Another RS failing was seizure of the front disc caliper. Unless it was stripped and cleaned once a year, the sliders would seize up, making it either impossible to strip or expensive to repair. Well, the CBX has a new double piston design, but I haven’t done enough miles to find out if it’s going to happen, but I don’t think it could be any worse than the older bike. The brake is very powerful and even has real feel, so it’s safe in the wet (no lag either) and, with such low mass to halt, it’s like hitting the proverbial brick wall when the going gets tough. The stronger front forks ensures that the bike stops in a dead straight line even under the heaviest of braking.

Town riding was great fun because the bike was so narrow and light. It could be flicked through ridiculously small gaps in traffic, feet up at very low speeds if necessary, because the balance of the bike was so good. The horn was a bit on the weak side, but all the other controls were so light and easy to use that they more than made up for this minor defect. One consequence of fitment of an electric start is that all the other electrics have to be up to standard, so the headlamp was usable at up to 70mph in the dark. The motor purred into the life first touch of the button cold or hot and the engine showed none of the temperament associated with singles.

The bike was not without a few minor faults. The fuel or was useless registering full then suddenly dropping to half and then just as suddenly empty. The side stand was rather thin and flimsy causing the bike to fall over on several occasions - just as well it weighed so little. The pillion seat was small and narrow, and a heavy passenger knocked the guts out of the power delivery, to go fast it needed mucho use of the gearbox. OK for small girlfriends but best to avoid giving lifts to beer swilling Hells Angels. Rear tyre wear seemed quite excessive, the Jap job was finished in six thousand miles.

Regular oil changes are extremely important on all small Hondas, every 1000 miles is about right. Oil consumption was non-existent between changes. Rear chain wear seems a lot less than on the RS, one adjustment every 3000 miles is a welcome relief from the earlier bike.

The only place the CBX is really limited is on motorways, when it’s struggling to keep up with outer lane speeds, but this can be seen as a good point if you’ve collected too many penalty points on your licence. Not that this really matters, because the CBX is so much fun on the curves that it encourages you to take the longer, slower route whenever time allows, where it excels. It’s quite possible to brake very late, change direction half way around a corner and generally have one hell of a ball. Or you can just purr along sedately, taking in the scenery and enjoying the civilised low down power output.

Every engine type has its optimum capacity, from my time with the CBX it’d seem that for singles it’s somewhere around 250cc. Much beyond that, I suspect that the power lost in absorbing the excess vibration mitigates against the combination of economy and performance. Some big singles weigh more than same sized twins, are slower and less economical, save for rarity value, pretty damn pointless.

The CBX was mostly ignored when it was introduced in ’83 because it cost so much more than the RS. Whilst the RS is a great 250, the CBX is a great motorcycle, beating the older bike in every area. It’s definitely one of the best lightweights to reach our shores - maybe if it was released in these times at a realistic price it’d clean up the market.

Keith Farley

Suzuki GSX1000 Katana

After many happy miles on my Yoshimura Suzuki GS750E, I decided the only way to obtain more power was from more capacity. After selling my pride and joy I went on the hunt for and found a Suzuki GSX1000 Katana in preference to the 1100cc model, as the smaller bike was intended to act as Suzuki’s flagship in the USA for F1 Superbike racing.

Suzuki employed four massive 32mm Mikuni slide carbs that really gave the 1000 Kat instant throttle response that left the bigger version for dead from a standing start. The smaller model wasn’t perfect, however, because when the clutch is pulled in it rattles like a tin of nails and the tickover is never as smooth as that obtained from the larger bike’s CV carbs - in fact the GSX1000 motor can quit without warning at tickover in traffic, The latter is especially true if the carbs are not perfectly in balance.

With carbs out of balance and that noisy clutch the motor sounds like it’s about to expire. But these are minor points, when you consider the massive power of the motor a few inconveniences have to be allowed for - when you wind the throttle open you'll soon become a blot on someone else’s horizon.

The immediate impression of the Katana is that it feels as strange to sit on as it does to look at. The seat is rock hard but relatively low off the ground (30"). you have to throw yourself forward to grab the bars, and the footpegs are high and quite far back, leaving you in the classic racer crouch, arse up, head down.

On the road, the Kat takes quite a time to get used to. Even with the suspension set on its softest settings, hitting a bump at low speeds will tend to bounce the rider off the bike. It’s not until you burst through the 70mph speed limit that the bike begins to make sense, the suspension starts soaking up the lumps, bumps and anything else that comes its way, totally predictable if not 100% precise high speed handling.

In traffic, the Kat is a hefty lump to shift around. If you don’t have strong arms and legs, by the time you’ve ridden the Kat for a year you'll either have developed them or ended up in hospital; that said, once the bike gets a little speed under its belt it’s not as uncivilised and nasty as its appearance might suggest.

As well as cruising all day at 100mph, if you can find the space and spons for the petrol, it makes, believe it or not, an excellent high speed tourer. Naturally, I didn’t buy the Kat primarily for such purposes - I wanted something that was fast with a capital F. Here the Kat doesn’t disappoint. The needle approaches 140mph with a mere nine grand on the rev counter, although the redline, surprisingly, is 500rpm below there But the power doesn’t end there, it'll still pull out a bit more speed.

If the engine sounds frantic and afterall it is only an old tech, air cooled four - the chassis still copes with flat out riding, as long as you don’t have to do anything silly like take your paws off the bars or brake when slightly banked over. Perhaps the most surprising thing about balls out riding (sounds rather indecent, what?) is that the tiny screen and fairing, that the uniniated merely dismiss as a cosmetic aberration, actually produces a degree of protection - sure you have to be on the slim side and your chin has to be on the tank, but when you're really getting down to it the screen blows the air right over your head.

Really crazy headcases wheelie big Katanas. With a zero to sixty time in around four seconds and 108hp this isn’t a difficult feat - the only problem occurs when you get it slightly wrong and 520lbs tries to do a wobbly. This kind of behaviour can really impress bored officers of the law. Even the headlamp ain’t so bad for the Japs. The 60/55W unit throws out a bright, broad beam of light. The single pod instruments are plain and their simplicity is fully appreciated, and the switchgear would gain full marks were it not for the fiddly indicator switch
 that made hand signals seem an attractive proposition.

The brakes I really dug. Talk about squealing tyres. The only problem was that the front was as spongy as a civil servant on the New Years Honours List. If you're not used to these kind of brakes, then it’d be very easy to fall off. As with most things, time and experience solves all problems, although the back disc is such a violent number that I still lock the wheel up; nothing like a bit of early morning tail wagging to wake up the system.

The anti-dive, although non-adjustable, does work and its especially noticeable in the corners where it’s possible to stuff the Kat in at dangerous speeds, whack on the brake and survive without undue nastiness - FZ and GSXR owners have been surprised with the speed that the Kat can be hustled around bends - but you do need muscles, this is no twitchy sixteen inch wheel plaything.

When the Kat does become nasty it’s usually down to well worn or incorrect (which usually equates to cheap) tyres. Any long lasting, hard compound will end up with the Kat doing impressive back wheel spins in the wet. Metzeler Sports are typical of the near racer tyres that the Kat likes and eats (4000 rear, 5000 miles front). It goes through rear chains in about 5000 miles unless they are treated to much loving care.

The handling is not perfect at high speeds, but not dangerous, no full tilt speed wobbles have yet been experienced. The Kat gets into a bit of a fish-tail type weave on long, fast curves and the high speed weave in a straight line is nothing more than a bit of nervousness to my mind maybe if I spent less time riding the thing and played around with tyre pressures and suspension settings I would clear these minor irritants up.

Of all the Jap manufacturers, Suzuki know how to make tough fours (who mentioned electrics?). And such is the power of the bigger engines that you’d probably break some bones before you blew the engine apart. In the 9000 miles I covered (a mere five grand on the clock when I acquired her) all I’ve done is change the oil and filter every 3000 miles, check the tappets (two were adjusted), balanced the carbs, bunged in a set of pads and fitted new tyres and chains. That’s all that’s been needed to keep the Kat in the very fast lane.

The electrics - rectifier, regulator and alternator - are not the most reliable aspect of Suzuki fours, but I’ve been very careful to keep a check on the condition of the connectors and look for chafed wires. A new rectifier costs £80, which must be at least ten times what they cost to produce. A mate with a GSX750ES had to spend £200 on battery, rectifier and regulator after the electrics played up. Having said that, I’ve never experienced any electrical problems on any of the Suzukis I’ve owned.

There are still a lot of the big Katanas around, if you can find a bog standard one all the better. Bots of people spend lots of money trying to tart them up, but they usually can’t get it back when they come to sell - the Kat is quite fast enough as standard. My Katana was stock when I bought it back in ’85 and cost £2100 - a bit expensive, perhaps, but it was only six months old and pristine. After numerous trips to racing meetings and the TT fortnight, I lost my heart to the GSXR1100, but on my wages, no way, I thought, I could pay five grand for a new bike.

After a trip to my local dealer, just for a quick look around, he asked if I was interested in selling my totally immaculate Suzi - and how about test riding the new 1987 GSXR1I100. What could I say? He offered £2200 for the Kat and after a trip to my friendly listening bank I was the proud owner of the GSXR - all I had to do was pay for it. Word is, they sold the Kat for £2700 - its new price back in ’85. I have fond memories of the Kat, ideally I would have liked to keep both bikes well, but my wages are well stretched supporting the new Suzi.

The Katana is a very serious motorcycle that demands 100% input and gives you the thrill of your life as you try to hang onto the monster - just ask anyone who raced one, if you can deliver then so does the bike. It’s hard on the rider, very fast and a reasonable handler, definitely not for the faint hearted. The bike has already become a classic in its own right and is probably a good financial investment. The last of the real muscle bikes.

Vic Saunders