Copyright (c) GoodMotorcycles.com 2008
I like to have as much experience in certain matters as possible. This yearning for something new or different makes me restless, never more so than with regard to motorcycles. I've never had a bike for more than a year, partly because I like to buy a bike that needs a little work, ride it for a while and then sell it for a bit more money. With the cash from the recent sale of a Y reg Suzuki GS550 Custom burning a hole in my pocket I was on the lookout for a new toy.
1979, T reg Honda GL1000, average condition, MOT and taxed, fairing and top box. £895, ran the advert. I had always wanted to own one of these fat, bulbous monstrosities just out of curiosity - so I decided to suss it out. The GL had 58000 miles on the clock and was very unpretentious. It looked exactly what it was - neglected, abused, dog eared and travel weary. It looked something like me, in fact, no wonder I took to it. I cast a bleary eye over its substantial mechanicals.
If you're buying a motorcycle, especially something like the GL1000, then you'd be stupid not to put the bike through its paces. I've learnt the hard way. View anyone selling a bike as a potential crook and you won't go too far wrong. Started her up, engine was stone cold so I could assess its condition properly - no rumbles or heavy knocks, oil pressure up quickly, some piston slap, but not too bad - tappet noise not too excessive, a puff of blue smoke; no more.
With the owner on the back - even a promise to leave the girlfriend tied to the railings failed to let him give me a go solo - first few feet it felt like it was going to flop down on the road, it's a heavy, cumbersome beast and you need strong legs to stop it falling over once it starts tilting towards the road when stationary.
It seemed to run well so I was interested enough to offer £595. No chance, but after I pointed out that the exhaust was gone, rear worn tyre, leaking shocks and worn front pads, we agreed upon £675. What the owner didn't know was that I knew there was a crashed one in the local breakers and I was able to pick up rear tyre, shocks and seat for £75. That left the front brakes and most costly bit, the exhaust. Luckily, I had been welding exhausts on many dubious bikes for the past years and fixing them up, I knew that once I set to with my welding equipment I could soon fix the exhaust.
The rest of the bike was examined with a critical eye for damage - scrapes and gouges where it had been rubbed against a wall or something, paint faded and scratched in need of a respray, chrome pitted, discoloured which could be renovated to a degree....I'd bought a lot worse. As the bike was already in my workshop having undergone the welding, I decided to do the cosmetics at the same time. Only the chrome let the bike down after the paint was done, even after polishing up there were still places where the rust had eaten through the plating, not much I could do about that without spending money.
It was time to try the now visually pleasing GL on the road, only after a thorough service though, all information gleaned from a newly acquired Haynes manual - you can easily overlook an essential service requirement without one of these and they are much cheaper than the official handbook. On the road it was much improved - quieter, and pulling cleanly. Oh my god, it's big though. A word of warning, don't buy one of these bikes unless you're fairy strong.
Above all, you have to be confident about handling big bikes. If you ever dropped one of these you'd never pick it up without assistance. At times it makes you wonder if there is a market for a miniature, portable telescopic gantry with matching block and tackle, especially if you ever contemplate touring off the beaten track alone. It's quite a nice bike. It does everything bar handle. It's not a practical, everyday form of transport, as shoving it in and out of anywhere is unnerving to say the least. Though, a long, two up journey is very pleasant. Power delivery, from the watercooled, opposed four engine is never startling, especially for a 1000cc machine, but there is always plenty of torque everywhere in the rev range and hardly any vibes even on a fairly old machine.
It's reasonably stable with 80mph up, but beyond that it wallows a bit on suspension that is just not up to controlling 600lbs of metal (plus whatever the fairing and rider weighs). The engine configuration means that most of the engine is mounted quite low which, along with the petrol mounted under the seat, helps keep the centre of gravity reasonable.
Just why the false petrol tank should be so wide and so ugly is not clear, but at least there's a reasonable bit of storage space inside. Addition of the fairing makes the bike very heavy at the front end and requires considerable muscle power to heave the bike around at low speeds. The shaft drive doesn't mess up the gearbox as per BMW, nor does it interfere with handling in corners, probably because you dare not go too fast in the first place. I often had the feeling that the whole plot could seriously get out of control and do something nasty, so a certain amount of circumspection was the order of the day.
Petrol consumption was not as bad as I had expected, it averaged between 40 and 45mpg taking things fairly gently, whilst 50mpg could be achieved at steady, legal motorway speeds. Rear tyres went for around 6000 miles, pad wear wasn't noticeable and the shaft drive was wonderfully free of maintenance after the antics of some ill designed chain drives.
Rider and pillion comfort was one of the better aspects of the bike, it was quite possible to plod along the motorway or good A roads with 70 to 80mph up without a worry in the world, the fairing taking care of the wind blast. On the other hand, trying to pilot the hulk through traffic proved tiresome and patience straining as the width of the cylinders precluded taking gaps through which normal sized motorcycles could flit and taking tight turns through gaps in traffic was more likely to end up with the bike wedged between cars than achieve rapid forward progress. At least its sheer bulk tended to stop car drivers throwing their vehicles beneath its front wheel.
I don't know how American riders manage. I mean to them, the Goldwing in 1000cc form, without luggage, is a bit toy like - what they do with getting on for 1000lbs of metal in traffic I don't know.....you know that all the tests of mega cruisers say they handle well...for their weight!
The bike left me with a lot of fond memories. It did let me down a few times, though, the battery on one occasion, a coil on another. Other GL problems likely to crop up on high mileage bikes are blown head gaskets, water pump and cooling problems, and dodgy gearboxes. Few people are able to thrash the engines due to the handling problems, so engines usually have quite an easy life and with only 80hp on tap and little need to rev the motor hard it is by no means highly tuned.
My worst memory, though, is when I manhandled the heavyweight out of garage, lost control and toppled over, albeit gently, though enough to scrape and split the fairing. Even if I say so myself, I am quite powerfully built but even so I had to get my father to help right the beast. Repairing the fairing wasn't too much of a problem, though, I'm well used to that kind of thing.
After a summer of use, for a variety of reasons, it became time to dispose of the bike. Had I become attached to it? No, not really. At times, I wished for a smaller, more manageable bike, a local trip down the road was something to avoid as it meant too much hassle. Selling the bike proved quite easy as it was looking very presentable by the time I'd finished with it. I managed to sell it for £1200 and there were lots of telephone calls. To sum up, I'm glad I experienced the GL1000, and maybe when I've mellowed sufficiently to really appreciate the bike's assets, I would reconsider owning such a motorcycle - but if you're young and looking for excitement, leave well alone.
Mark Jones
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It was all down to a jerk off artist, name of Richard, a dentist out of Dallas who had gone through three divorces and finally ended up owning the latest 1500cc Honda six with, for all I knew, the kitchen sink tucked away amid the mass of GRP. We were both dead drunk, relating motorcycle tales that got taller as the evening wore on. One thing about Americans, in ten minutes you'll find out more about their lives than an English guy would give out in ten years.
It soon became apparent that the ownership of such a ritzy item as a GL1500 was more down to lack of penis size and staying power than anything else. Somewhere along in the evening I had mentioned where I was staying and the next day I was summoned back into the land of the living at a most inconsiderate few minutes past noon by the phone vibrating off the side of the desk. The GL1500 owner rang to remind me that everything was set for the Gold Wing rally the next day, the old GL1000 he had tucked away at the back of his garage was still a runner, ready and waiting for my ministrations.
Jesus, what had I let myself in for now.....I have to admit I was more than drunk when I turned up at his minor mansion. Some reprobate just out of high school had dumped about 200 amphetamine tablets on me, apparently under the impression that I was well connected and only staying in the cockroach infested motel as a means of covering my tracks.
Shit man, it works like this, you hit a few pills and then become paranoid about being busted with enough left over to make you as a dealer, so you hit a few more to quell the paranoia and so on.....I was so out of it by then that the vibes from the CB750 were running straight up my spine into my eyeballs, causing triple vision.
The next thing I knew I was aboard this venomous flat four which rattled and roared like a dustbin full of ball bearings being shot out of cannon in a lift shaft....I didn't think my head was about to fall off and I knew it had already. Covert flashes of reality found me amid these massive cruisers with dazzling chrome, laid back ancient white trash at the controls and a degree of engine rumble that hit me in the belly and made me want to spew up. Just gotta get out of this place.
Naturally, I peered through the tunnel vision and whacked on the throttle, the waltzing Matilda under me frightening the wretched denizens out of my path until I made it to the front. The speedo quivered at the ton and only the sudden realisation that I didn't know where the hell we were going made me back off a notch. At least I seemed to have woken up the dead, two GL1500 riders came streaming past, lights turned up so high they nearly fried my brain in the myriad of mirrors some narcissistic ninny had deemed fit to add to the huge, wobbling cowhorns attached to the GL1000.
The GL had 12,345 miles up, which I knew for almost a fact was a whole 100,000 miles short of the truth and any attempt to wind on the throttle past the ton was met with the kind of deep rumbling noise only Norton Commando owners would recognise as main bearings about to disintegrate...I was still together enough to imagine how the UMG would frame the obituary when the engine locked up solid at the ton and I was spat off, carved up by a hundred or so Gold Wing fanatics...
Somehow I made it to the first stop. Talk about a weird place. From the outside it looked like a single storey factory unit with a few flashing neon lights around its single entrance. From the inside it was a mixture of Rome meets Bangkok. The customers were even weirder, hard nosed bikers, even heavier truckers and a bunch of rednecks who looked like they'd reach for their shotguns at the merest taint of tan skin, despite the fact that at least half the Go-go dancers were of Asian descent.
Dentist Dick was rubbing his crotch like he was hoping to find something large and friendly down there, staring myopically at one particularly well endowed Mexican looking doll who had a bra full of ten dollar notes......it was all in all a pretty horrible place to stop for a break and I was relieved to get back on the road even if it was on a jumping flash rat bag of a Wing.
It was really strange, stuck amid all those huge bikes, fifty or so different stereos blasting out middle of the road music, competing to drown the engine and exhaust noise of the barely ruffled flat fours and sixes. Back in the bar I had been warned of the radar traps ahead and the need to maintain a steady 55mph. I was at least 20 years younger than the youngest of this group of semi-geriatrics; the oldest was in his nineties, so my natural pace of riding was about twice theirs.
A semblance of sobriety was gradually descending and with it a dark depression that was heavy with the boredom of the outing. At the next petrol station I put 100psi in the dentist's tyres whilst he was in the toilet. Once the group was back on the road all hell let loose when his bike went into a nasty weave, the tyres skipping all over the road as soon as he hit 30mph. The resulting pile-up involving half a dozen machines, worth about fifty thousand pounds, had me in such hysterics that I almost fell off as well.
You should have seen the perplexed faces as they tried to right their machines. The bikes were real heavy metal with all the equipment on board needing four to six people to get just one machine upright. Damage was minimal, more dented pride that wrecked metal or scarred bodies. I couldn't help them, it took all my energy to stop myself rolling about on the tarmac, kicking my legs up in the air and laughing like a madman.
It was in a fairly wild mood that I did the final 25 miles to the camp. Word eventually emerged that I had been seen playing with his tyres, after that I was ignored for the rest of the weekend and had to pitch my tent amid some other cruiser clowns. The camp was miles from civilisation, so I spent the rest of the weekend close to the beer tent, occasionally emerging to watch some of the antics.
There were only half a dozen women, all over fifty and ugly as a crashed CZ. The men did strange things like tug of wars over a cesspit, singing terrible songs at the top of their voices and late night farting competitions. They seemed happy enough in their second childhoods but I was so bored out of my head that I tried to organise a wheelie competition.....when my demonstration of how to wheelie a Gold Wing resulted merely in the monster lurching the back wheel a yard or so sideways, I decided to change the idea to a hill climb.
There was this neat mound of a hill that I felt any halfway decent pilot should be able to launch the Wing off the top. I shrugged off their protests (something about not upsetting the landowner), lined the GL up, let rip with the throttle, dropping the clutch with seven thousand revs up. The beast lurched forward, gouging out a huge furrow in the ground for the first hundred yards, covering just about everyone in a thick layer of mud.
Approaching the beginning of the hill, I yanked on the bars to little effect. Rather than trying to go up what appeared a rather more vertical climb than I had at first thought, the GL tried to go straight through the hill. The ground was soft and the front ended up hidden right up to the radiator. I was flung viciously forward, catching a very sensitive piece of my anatomy on the fake petrol tank. They didn't even laugh. They ignored me, pulling the precious machine out of the hill.
Dickhead pocketed the keys, whilst his friends hurriedly tried to clean up the great God Gold Wing, grabbed hold of my shoulders and shook me viciously. He shouted something about getting my act together and getting sober if I wanted to ride the machine home the next day. I sort of nodded my head in acquiescence and slept the rest of the day.
In the morning it was monsoon time. Five minutes in the rain and I was absolutely drenched despite leather jacket and nylon overtrousers.....after 15 minutes behind the huge Vetter style fairing fitted to the GL, daring to do no more than 50mph in the atrocious conditions, the Wing appeared to make some kind of sense. I could see the huge grins of contentment flashing between the geriatrics, they were even giving me the thumbs up sign. I huddled down to it, gave in to the conditions and began to actually enjoy riding a Gold Wing. God help me!
Johnny Malone
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I had two experiences on the Honda ST1100 that have stayed in my mind. The first was in the depths of winter, one of those wicked days with a furious down-pour and black sky. Riding the ST into this I was amazed by the bike. It felt firmly planted on the road. Tucked behind the fairing, crouched down slightly, I felt the rain thrown around my body, leaving me in a haven of dry space. The screen was just below eye level, the rain streaming over the top of my helmet, the visor remaining free of water.
I was three hours from home even with the speedo stuck between 80 and 90mph. The slight engine whine reassuring, the watercooled vee-four purring away happily. Rather than feeling like a drowned rat, which I most surely would have on almost any other bike, as the lightning racked through the sky, I felt a feeling of liberation and oneness. A blast of well-being that gave out enough heat to keep me warm and happy for the whole length of the journey.
Three months later, I was screaming abuse and insults at the bike. After thirty minutes I was completely knackered and wondering just why I was wasting my time with stupid motorcycles when I could be safely cocooned in a nice little car. What had caused this fall from grace? Bloody great side-winds that caught the vast expanse of fibreglass, shook the bike like a cat with a dying rat in its mouth.
Obstructions along the side of the road and the varying force of the side-winds meant that as soon as I found the correct angle to lean the ST, the wind would either increase or disappear altogether. Forward motion degenerated into a series of frightening lurches. I started cursing the mass of 600lbs (270kg) and the amount of muscle needed to keep the ST from falling over or running off the road. The only good thing I can think to say about this trait is that the car drivers were so frightened by my antics that they gave me a wide berth.
This horror only occurred a couple of time and needed fairly fierce side-winds to cause a problem. Overall, the excellent weather protection outweighs the occasional muscle wrenching session. Despite being so heavy, the ST is generally easy to ride.
There are two reasons for this. The lowly tuned, 100hp engine has a tremendous amount of torque. It can be run down to almost tickover in top gear and rolled on all the way up to 120mph without the slightest hesitation. Any speed in between can be chosen as a cruising speed without having to worry about vibes - the vee four motor has perfect primary and secondary balance.
The other reason for the easy going nature is that most of the mass is placed relatively low down, so overall feel is of a bike some 100lbs (45kg) lighter. It won't flick through bends like a race replica but steering is basically neutral despite a shaft drive and front forks that are slightly too softly sprung.
The ride quality is good, the suspension able to cope with large craters and small ripples in the road. A few times, accelerating hard out of bends and hitting a bump, the bars twitched in my hands. But, the oscillation died down quickly, the sheer bulk of the bike forcing the ST around the bend on the desired line. I felt happier on the ST than an old 750 Kawa four I used to own, which may not be much of a compliment but goes some way to showing how handling has advanced in the past half decade.
I've also ridden (but not owned) an RS BMW K100, which had a slightly better ride but was ruined by insidious vibes, shaft drive ruminations and less torque than on the ST. The Honda looked just as well finished; indeed, the plastic could be cleaned up in ten minutes rather than the hours needed on an unfaired bike.
Because the vee-four isn't so wide as a straight four, quite adequate filtering is possible in traffic despite the fairing. Because the plastic has built in bump-pads, it was quite reassuring to know that a minor tumble would not damage the fairing. Second or third gear could be locked into, the throttle used to roll on and off speed, allowing me to concentrate on the mad antics of the cars.
The ST looks like it should cost more than most small cars, which it does when new, and garners more respect from car drivers than most motorcycles. I've only had two occasions when cars have tried to ignore my existence - they soon found out their mistake when I gave them a blast on the horn.
A bike this big needs good brakes - the ST has triple discs, with an anti-lock braking system as an option (which mine doesn't have). Despite the ravages of wet weather, the calipers gave no sign of distress and the braking was sufficiently sensitive to pull up safely on damp roads. High speed braking needed the use of the back disc as well as the front to keep the bike stable, but there was no lack of power.
When I checked the front pads recently there was still plenty of meat left. This with just under 11000 miles on the clock - I bought the bike with 2200 miles done for substantially less than the new price. The rear tyre is about half a millimetre off being completely worn out. Although still stable, the bike twitches slightly over road markings and the like.
It's interesting to observe how a new bike wears over the first 10,000 miles. Some machines degenerate quickly, their suspension becomes sloppy and as the tyres wear out they become quite vicious when ridden hard. The Honda doesn't seem to have gone off at all, despite only having one perfunctory service at 5000 miles. The engine pulls as well as ever and the chassis copes with everything that is thrown at it. This build quality bodes well for longevity.
Because of its excellent comfort it's the kind of bike that encourages you to load up the camping gear and head off into the far distance. Backed up by surprisingly good fuel economy - I manage around 50mpg while on the open road with speeds of up to 90mph. It goes down a bit in town and if you do more than 100mph, but most touring is done on the open road. The six gallon fuel tank is reassuring on the more remote roads.
Which reminds me of the time I decided that taking the ST along a very minor road which was a useful short cut. What I hadn't realised was that the road surface was going to degenerate into gravel with the odd large hole. The ST could often float over holes but needed more speed than the gravel would safely allow - I didn't feel happy doing more than 15mph.
At times the back wheel felt like it was going to swing right around past the front, whilst the front threatened to slip away. Several times I had my feet down to stop a catastrophe, fighting the mass which had once again reasserted itself. The short cut took about two hours, twice as long as the main route! I learnt my lesson after that little effort.
Another off-road excursion involved following a small track down to a cliff. The only problem with this was that there was no room to turn the ST around. Pushing the hulk 300 metres up a slight incline had me cursing the Honda's design and wondering if I should buy a Honda GL1500, which is even heavier but has a reverse gear. On second thoughts, no thanks, the GL doesn't have the same functionality as a high speed tourer that the ST possesses.
The ST isn't a very popular motorcycle amongst the mass of bikers and has none of the image of BMWs, but on the road it seems to me to be a very well thought out Grand Tourer with only a few minor drawbacks that the overall experience more than overwhelms. New, they are too expensive but a one or two year old with low miles is a good buy.
Graham Trench
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My uncle, at the grand age of 75, decided that he would give up the motorcycle game. Casting around for someone to whom he could give his 10,000 mile, 1987 GL650, I was the obvious choice. I was the only one in the family with a full motorcycle licence. Any plot I might have harboured to quickly off-load the custom cruiser was cruelly crushed when he decided that the only way I could afford the insurance, being a mere 18, was if the bike was kept in his name. Old he might've been, senile he most certainly wasn't.
That's how I got stuck with a huge Plastic Maggot with a massive Gold Wing style fairing. My mates pissed themselves with laughter, I just pissed myself with fear when I made my first top speed run. The local bit of dual carriageway seemed ideal, early in the morning it was completely deserted. What I'd forgotten was that the council louts had badly patched one bit of tarmac, which just happened to be the entry point of a fast corner.
The GL weighs over 500lbs, with only 60 horses on board it means that acceleration is stately rather than inspiring. Still, the mile long straight had persuaded the Maggot up to 110mph on the clock. I didn't know if the vibes or wallowing were the more disturbing but I quickly forgot both when I rode over the rutted tarmac. The chassis felt like it was unwinding and the bike was going to fly into a million pieces. Grabbing the brakes seemed a reasonable reaction.
That was how I ended up entering the bend at about 80mph with the suspension locked up solid from the braking. The GL didn't like this malpractice one tiny bit, showing its disapproval by shaking about all over the place. Then the ground clearance ran out, the stand prong digging into the tarmac, trying to lift the back wheel off the road.
All I could do was flick the bike upright, ride straight off the road. Gravel, bushes then grass. The bike just powered through, destroying everything in sight, until speed was down to 40mph when the front wheel dug in, the bike slewed off sideways and I kicked myself free. The grass provided a nice soft landing, the GL actually ending up on its side, the motor still running. Amazingly, nothing had broken off but its pristine appearance was ruined by bloody great big scars in the plastic. My uncle would have an heart attack if he saw the state of the machine.
After kicking straight a few bits I was able to ride back on to the road. I had quickly learnt my lesson about speed, corners and road surfaces. To be fair to the GL, up to 80mph it was quite stable and extremely comfortable. I could sit in armchair-like comfort for hours, protected even from some quite severe bad weather, listening to my favourite rock tracks on the stereo. I used to complain to my uncle about the lack of a fridge.
I was pretty blase about regular maintenance but my uncle demanded that I take the machine to his place every 2000 miles. The old bugger had converted his front room to a centrally heated workshop and insisted on giving the bike a full service. He wanted to keep his hand in. If I'd been left alone I would have neglected the armchair warrior something rotten, as evidenced by the sorry state the bike was in whenever I turned up at his house - he must've spent hours scraping and polishing, because it was always returned looking like it had come straight out of the showroom. I'd tidied it up a bit after the accident and he went to the lengths of filling and touching up the paint.
Riding the thing to work every day drove me crazy. It was so wide it was almost as slow through traffic as a cage. It was quite cosy during torrential downpours and dead easy to ride - all the controls were light and precise (even the gearbox was okay) and the vee twin engine had bags of torque in the 2000 to 7000rpm range even if it didn't have much power in the higher rev range. The huge fairing had the same kind of aerodynamics as a Sumo wrestler, the bike would probably have been good for around 120mph in naked form.
With so much mass over the front wheel, pot-holes would shake the forks until the steering head bearings rattled. The suspension recovered as soon as the road surface proper was regained, so after a couple of days I actually found this trait fun, going out of my way to rattle over pot-holes. The rear end just twitched and shook, seemed more resilient to surface imperfections. The shock had been replaced at 9000 miles, as had the bearings, so it doesn't say much for the longevity of these components.
The Maggot's engine is a bit notorious for falling apart, especially in earlier versions, but this one ran well until 22000 miles when the water pump failed. I wondered why the engine was glowing red in the dark. Uncle was unwell so, much to my disgust, I had to tear the plastic off and scar my knuckles getting the old unit out. The chisel and hammer routine on the heads of reluctant screws left deep scar marks in the alloy. Some of the tubing for the watercooling looked like it was going to crack up, so I replaced that as well. Hitting the fairing with my hammer to make it line up wasn't a good idea as it produced a vivid crack. Superglue worked beautifully and only very close inspection would reveal the hairline crack.
Listening to the motor tick over I found I could hear a faint rattle from where the camchain resided. There had always been some rattling and knocking, the plastic seemed designed to amplify it. I was a little worried about taking it on holiday but I'd already agreed to take my mate on the pillion, so I coughed up for AA membership.
I thought the ideal place for the GL was on the motorway. What I hadn't factored in was my mate's mass putting the rear suspension down on its stops. Great, anything above 70mph turned in huge weaves that turned both of us white-faced. A-roads were limited to a mere 60mph, as any bumps tried to throw the machine off the road. Back lanes were avoided with the same sureness with which I slammed the door in the face of religious nutters. Despite the naff handling we rather enjoyed our 2000 miles of tottering around the English countryside.
The GL wasn't that happy, judging by the note of the camchain rattle, but it held out until just under 26000 miles. Trust Honda to build a pushrod engine with one of their notoriously fickle camchain and tensioner duos. Uncle was dragged out of his sick bed to perform the operation, the usual corroded screws being the main restraint. I'm sure the old duffer grinned when I whacked my finger with a hammer. Brought him back to life, anyway.
More commuting horrors followed, as I moved to a house about 20 miles from work. I decided the only way to deal with the traffic was to spray the bike bright white, add some spot lights and fit an highly illegal police-type siren. This worked wonders on my commuting times, revealing that cagers were, in fact, quite aware of bikers' presence but unless threatened by a plod-type bike too lazy to give way or take avoidance action. I had great fun frightening them shitless with the siren and a quartet of flashing lights. My uncle thought the transformation brilliant and had to be physically restrained from nicking the bike.
I was a bit worried when real police bikers gave me a friendly wave. After three weeks one pulled me over, being alerted to my delinquency by an uproarious blast on the siren. He made me pull the offending item off, took it away with him after warning me that the next time he saw the bike the spot lamps had better be gone, too. I was lucky I wasn't booked as he looked like he could barely restrain himself from tearing me apart limb by limb.
The plain white fairing still worked quite well, though, it just took a bit of guts on the horn and throttle to charge through at 50mph. Quite often I had to give the front discs a dose of muscle, so I wasn't that surprised when they started to play up at around 31000 miles. The caliper rot syndrome had set in. They proved tough buggers to crack open, turned out not to be worth the effort as the pistons were egg shaped. A lot of hassle phoning around breakers followed, I ended up paying £75 for a decent set. Extortionate!
Fuel had stayed resolutely at about 40mpg, however sensibly or crazily I employed my right wrist. Oil didn't vary between changes, showing that the bores and pistons must've been in good shape. Avon tyres lasted over 12000 miles at each end and the shaft drive was obviously free of cost except for a very infrequent oil change.
Even my traitorous technique of caning the engine in the lower gears, to make the damn thing wear out faster, had no discernible effect. I only tried to pull a wheelie the once, didn't succeed, just ended up with a painful, shoulder dislocating lurch. By the time 45000 miles were on the clock I was becoming impressed with its toughness and even endeared by the relentless way it would run and run even in the most awesome of weather. But it only took a sharp series of curves to change my mind about the invincible nature of the Honda.
I don't think very many were sold, as most people who wanted this type of Grand Tourer went for the Gold Wing, a whole different ballgame of excess. They were only available between 1987 and 1989. Either ridden very mildly or subjected to huge mileages and abuse, they vary in condition from pristine to old hags, the former more in dominance than the latter. In the unlikely event that I had £1500 to splurge on a motorcycle, the GL650 would not be my first choice, but if you crave this type of excess then I can heartily recommend them.
Nick Osborne
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Why would anyone want to bother with a 13 year old bike, especially a Goldwing (aka Leadwing or bathchair)? I don't care what people think of it. Anyone who simply slags it off as a piece of dog's dump probably doesn't know anything about motorcycle engineering, period! He (or she) is usually into carbon-fibre exhausts, smooth-bores and pecker-pads!
I bought it because I wasn't interested in joining the 150mph club or wearing scratch pads on my knees. I wanted the Goldwing because it looked a very impressive piece of machinery, when in naked trim, that is. Very few GL1000 Goldwings, especially KZ Goldwings, are around without the usual dressage (boxes and fridge-door fairings), except mine.
Goldwings can and do go around bends without looking like a grinding shop on wheels. They can be ridden all day at 70mph in comfort and will return over 40mpg. Gratuitous caning will lower it to the mid twenties! Routine maintenance is negligible due to watercooling, shaft drive and, in my case, electronic ignition. The stock points (two sets) require constant adjustment to avoid rough idling, and £65 for a Piranha set, which has never needed to be touched, was money well spent.
The engine uses an OHC arrangement with two toothed bets. I have no idea how long these should last. Valve adjustment is via the old locknut and rocker arms with reusable head cover gaskets. Because the engine layout is a flat four this work can be carried out from the comfort of your favourite armchair.
As a result of the relatively low state of tune, Gold Wing engines should sound sweet at idle and be almost vibration free right up to the red line at 8000rpm. Power spread is wide with no troughs or peaks, just good old fashioned grunt. Any riders revving beyond 7000rpm are probably sexually inadequate as no additional power is available and the engine starts to feel a bit stressed, emphasized by its normal smoothness.
Front tyres should be good for in excess of 6000 miles, rear tyres approximately 4000, but that's with me thrashing the arse off it. Tyre choice is extremely important if you want to avoid high speed weaving, white lining and seasickness inducing wobbles on even mild bends at 60mph. I know from experience because when I bought the bike it had Avon Roadrunners with stock FVQ shocks - handling was somewhere between sucks and no good.
Koni-Dial-A-Rides and a Pirelli rear did wonders for the handling. Mind you, it took two years to take the plunge, countless snug-bar tales of the transformation they made to other bikes finally convinced me. I hadn't ridden a big motorcycle for years so took the poor handling as being perfectly normal. Even with the mods, if you push it hard enough on a fast sweeper it'll still take on a slow weave, which looks worse than it feels.
Ground clearance is better than expected, it's extremely rare for the centrestand to hit the deck even on tight roundabouts. Stability at town speeds is good due to the very low centre of gravity and sit up and beg riding position. It doesn't have the top heavy feel expected of a bike of this weight and size, but the reality is very quickly realised in the form of a red face and vomiting should you park facing down a slope with no forward exit. Also, never use the sidestand when in company as the horizontal cylinders on the nearside will quietly fill with engine oil and produce a fog reminiscent of Kuwait's burning oil fields.
Riding position is classic sit up and beg with two big chrome dials up front and a smaller set comprising fuel level, battery voltage and engine temperature mounted on top of the tank - quite useful as they are all very accurate. Overheating never occurs even in hot summer traffic jams as the thermostatically controlled fan and large heavy radiator (probably from a Datsun 100A) have plenty of reserve capacity.
At modest speeds rider comfort is as good as any bike with a large, well padded, stepped seat as standard, but bum-ache will set in after about one and a half hours. Pillion comfort is just as good with a big chrome grab-rail, which probably provides more psychological comfort than actual security for nervous pillions. A cut down King & Queen seat would provide better comfort but personally I think they look shit.
High speed stability isn't as good as I would've expected. The bike feels too sensitive to road conditions and sidewinds for my liking, but is acceptable up to the ton. It may be my choice of rubber or suspension settings that causes this. Braking is okay, locking either wheel possible. However, it's very easy to find yourself running out of road if you don't plan the braking well in advance. Because of the weight and somewhat soft front forks, fast stop-start riding is hard work with lots of front end dive and very little engine braking to help speed loss. Let's face it, the GL is designed for long sweeping bends and open countryside, not town centre work or scratching sessions.
The gearing is quite high and widely spaced, which allows the rider to enjoy the broad spread of power. Acceleration from standstill is surprisingly good for a 600lb bike that only produces 80hp. 4.5 seconds to 60mph. Performance is good up to the ton, thereafter things become a bit sedate, the supposed top speed of 120mph possible with a long road and a lot of patience. Not bad, considering it has the frontal area of Blackpool parade.
Engine life depends on the style of riding. Long haul trips around Europe should allow car-like mileages before serious attention is required. However, giving the engine a hard thrashing may result in trouble in less than 30,000 miles, although given the way it's handling under such duress it's more likely to be written off than blown up!
Always use a 50/50 mix of antifreeze and distilled water in the cooling system or you may find the head gaskets corrode or even the water pump impeller seizing - change every two years. I do the oil change twice a year, especially if the bike's used for lots of short trips when an excess of water is absorbed into the lubricant.
Spares, as with most Hondas, are available.....if you can afford them! I've made considerable savings by using Dave Silver spares in Leiston, Suffolk, for items such as fuel tank, rear differential, rear wheel complete with cush-drive, dummy tank panels, etc. The parts are genuine, new but may have a few superficial marks; much cheaper than going via the Honda dealer.
The only persistent problem I've had is with the carbs. Whilst the bike had been standing for some years the fuel tank had rusted, resulting in all the carbs being coated in a brown, lacquer like substance that wouldn't disappear when attacked by any solvent known to man. Every time another float bowl thread stripped and needed retapping then the swarf blocked the jets......then the gasket goo blocked the jets and then another thread stripped, and so on.
Fortunately, the complete carb assembly can be removed in 20 minutes and after many frustrating trips, limping home on three cylinders, I finally admitted defeat and tentatively enquired if Dave Silver had by any chance a set of carbs. Yes, one complete set, ready to bolt on for £120. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry after all the frustration and weeping despair suffered over the years. I eventually settled for repeatedly hitting my head against a broken bottle for being such a tight-fisted arsehole and for some reason believing they were as rare as rocking horse shit.
I had to have them. They duly arrived, brand, spanking, shiny and new. A work of art. Even though they are basically four Superdream carbs in banks of two - Honda must have had a mountain of the bloody things as they ended up being fitted to all the dross models, even those terrible Triumph Acclaim cars had two! What a difference, no more flat spots, rough running or poor pulling at high revs.
Clutch action is light and smooth, although when the engine is warm a sight but noticeable snatch develops on final engagement of the drive. Gearchanging is not as slick as some bikes. Firm control is the order of the day going up or down the box. A lack of firmness on the gear lever leads to lots of false neutral. Never rush gearchanges, either!
Because the Goldwing was the flagship model in its day, don't expect it to be a brilliant all-rounder. It isn't and you will be disappointed. The GL is like no other bike, either to look at or to ride. It was designed for long distance, high speed, effortless, two-up riding. To really appreciate the bike you need to travel on A-roads two-up for long distances. Then you'll know the advantages of a heavy bike with a turbine smooth engine that never feels stressed and provides more than enough power for top gear overtaking at any sane speed. On the open road the bike is undemanding and virtually steers itself. All the rider has to decide is the speed at which he wants to travel.
I would only recommend the Goldwing to high mileage, all weather riders if they are prepared to put the hours in that would be required to maintain the bike to a reasonable standard. As with all Japanese bikes they suffer from the ravages of salt and grime. I've found that they are very easy to clean compared with bikes like the Kawasaki GT750. If washing and buffing is not your idea of fun between riding sessions, then stick with a BMW, because chrome and alloy abound which pickles very quickly after a winter's day ride on salt covered roads.
Function dictates the way it looks not fashion, everything on the bike is there for a reason. Comfort and low maintenance are worth more than race replica looks, in my book. Plastic Rocket riders tend to sneer at its inability to compete with even modern 250s. I find that irritating but I enjoy the feeling of comradeship with other Goldwing owners, although even here some owners of 1200s and 1500s regard my naked GL1000 as very quaint!
S.R.K.
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