Copyright (c) 2008 GoodMotorcycles.com
I guess that for most bikers there is a ride that always makes you smile when you think about it and that you never tire of doing again and again. For me, that ride is from Epping in Essex to Mersea Island, a short ride of only 45 miles but really the means of escape from everything - people and reality, no phones, no neighbours, just me, my bike and a very comfortable caravan on the island.
It starts on a Friday at the end of a crap week, I pack the rucksack, put on the gloves and helmet and kick the bike into life. Give it a few revs to warm up and let the neighbours know that I'm off for the weekend. Wave bye, bye (boring sods) and slip into the evening traffic through the town, forward to freedom and the open road.
The fresh air of the evening begins to ease my mind as soon as I hit the countryside, the charms of the local piggery blasts my brain and I open the throttle to escape the stench. The first few miles from North Weald to Ongar are a constant flow of bends that gets the adrenalin going in just the right way.
The two stroke triple howls from one gear to the next as I enjoy the surges of power before shutting off for the approaching curve. Braking is a bit naff via the single disc even with EBC pads that produce an aggravating squeal. The original Bridgestone tyres circa 1979 (when the bike was first registered) are great fun on the bends if you're into kissing tarmac. I'n not, so have a healthy respect for keeping speeds down and the bike up.
The coolness if the air begins to creep through the clothing as the fast straights from Ongar to Chelmsford arrive and the speed, all 70mph of it, flows freely. The smell of damp grass and the glowing sunset behind heighten my feeling of freedom. Chelmsford arrives all too quickly and so do the queues.
Back to reality. I negotiate my way through the mayhem, not too easy on a bike that is top heavy, wide and has restricted lock. On to the A12 for a quick blast with the other hordes of escaping townies keen to arrive at their weekend retreats (not the same feeling in a car, though, is it?).
This is the fastest bit, 80 to 90mph, 6-7000rpm, fingers and arms tingling due to the high revs (redline is 8000rpm); not even foam grips help. Tuck in behind the bulbous fairing that was so fondly described as a sports item when they put them on the Dunstall Suzuki range in 1979 along with a moulded GRP seat and tank unit.
Was this the start of the race replica, or what? Strange that I've never seen another GT380 in this outfit. I wonder whether this was a way for Suzuki to off load the very last of the GT380s that were hanging around in dealers showrooms?
Still, the fairing keeps the wind off and makes the car drivers laugh as you pass them clinging for dear life to a vibrating mass of red fibreglass and chrome. The kids are always impressed by the four exhausts, and they leave such a lovely haze of blue smoke for all behind to savour in their tin boxes.
Darkness descending and the pathetic 35W headlamp struggles to light the way, so at the turn off for Kelvedon I have to slow right down as there are no more tail lights to follow. Into Kelvedon and a welcome few moments of 30mph through the village to regain the feeling in my hands and then I'm back on the winding lanes to Mersea Island.
No street lamps here at all and even though I know the roads well, my heart is racing a bit as bends arrive at an alarming pace. Still that's part of the fun of riding out of date machinery which just can't handle quick changes of direction. You really do have to use your body to wrestle this one about. Nimble is not a word that springs to mind with a 19" front wheel doing its tractor impression.
There is something about the smell of the countryside at night. It's so invigorating, gives you a clear head and a bit of a buzz, makes you pleased to be there, especially on a motorcycle. Nothing beats a night ride with only the stars and a candle to light your way; the knowledge that a quiet sanctuary awaits where no-one can stop you reading bike mags all weekend and dreaming up bike projects that will never come to fruition.
The Suzuki copes well enough in terms of power. It has a smooth delivery up to 5000rpm without too many vibes but the real surge starts after this and so do the vibes. When I first got the bike it felt quite quick and certainly had no trouble overtaking cars, but when I came up against my first LC350 I realised just how old the bike really was in terms of stomp. The engineering is from 1972 so I guess you can't expect that much.
The UMG is quite accurate in its comments on the GT380, performance is bland by todays standards and I like the styling of mine only because of the GRP bits. I did have some electrical problems when I first got the bike in that various cylinders kept on cutting out until the bike stopped. Then it would be a real pig to start. This turned out to be the plug leads, the dealer never quite knew why but replacement solved the problem.
Fuel consumption always seemed to end up at 45mpg but would give more if you were less heavy on the throttle but with performance that's hard to extract that was difficult. Oil was the same, quite good until you whacked open the throttle at the lights, and left everyone in a smoke screen. Not very Green, I know, but the smell is lovely.
Back to the ride and I've now reached Tiptree where a small amount of life exists. I slowly go through the main street, exhausts burbling in their uneven way hoping that the local 125 brigade will spot me and follow. People are never quite sure what the bike is due to the fibreglass bits covering up its true style, so they always take a look and are disappointed to find it is only a GT380.
A couple of 125 screamers appear, I let them get alongside on the unrestricted stretch of road at the other side of the village. I let them stay whilst I built up the revs and then dropped a gear and left them standing. The bike can't stomp anything bigger......well, maybe a Superdream.
The roads here are great fun, short straights with kinks and a sharp bend to finish. You really can feel the road surface through the Bridgestones as the bike skitters across the tarmac towards the hedges on the fast curves. Then, on with the brakes for the hairpin. The forks are so soft they dive into bends, but coming out you can drop a gear with the full confidence of knowing that you won't loose the front end; it never seems to go light.
As for pulling wheelies, forget it. That just leads to clutch burn out, so it's not much use for posing on Box Hill. After several miles the main road to Mersea Island appears at the Peldon Rose junction where there's a very nice pub to visit on a cold evening complete with open fire.
The approach to the island is on a lovely straight where you can wind it up a bit and give yourself one last thrill of speed before the place swallows you up. I always feel great when I cross the causeway as I leave the mainland and all its aggro, escaping to a place where no one knows you or can disturb you.
Quietly I weave my way round the island, through its main road and down to the boatyards by the estuary, up the very narrow lane where the cottages have stood for hundreds of years and into my sanctuary of peace where the caravan stands. Put the bike on its stand and switch off. Not a sound to be heard except the occasional cry from an owl on the marshes in front of me and the cooling of the engine in the damp evening chill.
Looking at the bike in the dim glow of the moon I can't help but feel a warmth towards the GT for the good times I've had. I wonder what the next day will bring and what fond memories will be created with my faithful friend. Oh well, off to bed with a cup of coffee and a mag to look at the latest clutch of mega bikes available, but have they really got the character to become a friend?
P.D.Marven
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Most reports of the Suzuki GT550 are very negative, along the lines that it's slow, thirsty and not very reliable. Well, my decade with a 1975 model has been a happy one in which I have increased the mileage from the 10,000 that was on the clock when I bought the bike to 72000 miles.
It must be admitted straight away that I am not a young tearaway - I was fifty-one when I bought the bike and had been more used to a calm, measured life with British singles than the frenetic insanity of the modern Japanese four. It might be asked just what I was doing with a two stroke triple if I was used to four stroke singles - the answer was quite simple, the GT was available, it was cheap and immaculate.
A quick ride was revelatory. Up to 5000rpm there were no vibes, the power poured in fluidly and the gearbox was as slick as could be. So this was what everyone was raving about, I thought, and I began to see why the British motorcycle was finished. The first few weeks with the bike were like starting motorcycling all over again. I had forgotten the taste of speed I had enjoyed in my youth, the Suzuki brought all the fun back into my motorcycling.
Of course, there were things I did not like at all. The front disc brake did not work in the wet, the exhaust was tinny at low revs and fuel economy was appalling after a Red Hunter - 45mpg ridden mildly plunging to 35mpg. The front forks were pitted, new seals lasted a week and started leaking again.
The whole front end felt loose and imprecise. I had the forks blasted and hard chromed, a quite expensive business. New seals and gaiters were then added. No more pitting and no more leaks, but the front end still felt loose. Taper rollers bearings in the headstock helped but the single disc still caused twisting and diving. Heavy duty springs were my next try; better but still not as good as a British bike. I eventually fitted a fork brace which finally gave me the tautness I wanted.
The disc brake was an early attempt and pretty awful even in the dry, with an on-off action that I did not savour at all. I tried a couple of brands of pads over the first year to little effect. When I had the chance to buy a T500 TLS front wheel I leapt at it. What a transformation - strong, progressive braking that was so much more controllable that it reduced stopping distances. In the wet it was a real joy after the terrors of disc brake lag. The rear drum gave no problems, just the right balance between power and feedback.
The rear shocks were still the OE Japs that allowed the bike to shake over bumps and wallow even on straight, smooth roads. A set of Girlings were bunged on and they are still there. Not so easy to upgrade were the swinging arm bearings, some kind of plastic rubbish that wore out in about five thousand miles. I replaced them twice and then shelled out for a box section Dresda swinging arm with taper roller bearings.
It would be a lie to say that all these chassis modifications transformed the handling to something on a par with the best of the British bikes. The tubular frame was hefty enough to hold up the engine and absorb most of its vibes, but the way the swinging arm was attached without much support, meant the bike would still wallow and weave under mild provocation.
The top speed I've had out of the bike is 110mph on a German autobahn when on holiday. Vibes were finger numbing and the bike snaked along on the edge of a tank slapper. I only did it the once. It was much more pleasant at 80mph, stable and vibration free, it could hold this speed in top gear up hill and down dale, with quite strong acceleration to 95mph left in hand. Once above 5000rpm the engine took on a delightful wail - it was afterall, a triple and even the GT550 could not escape from the harmonic resonance such a configuration produces.
In town the bike feels a little heavy, but with the mods could be snaked through traffic with reasonable accuracy. For town work third gear was excellent, running down to 5mph, the throttle could be snapped open and the bike take off with a speed that belied its aged appearance. These days, the clutch is a little ragged in action but after so many miles without attention I suppose it should come as no great surprise.
Ridden within the speed limits, and that's the way I like to ride these days, the bike had entirely adequate performance and agility, only let down by the already mentioned appalling economy. Comfort, once I'd added some flat bars and modified a set of rear-sets off a proddie racer a mate used to run, was reasonable for a hundred miles at 80mph. The seat, even with some additional padding, was not well shaped for my backside or weight, and was the first thing to intrude into my happiness. After as little as 50 miles I had to start moving my body around to relieve the pain. In the last year I've fitted a K and Q seat that looks strange but is wonderfully comfortable.
The other major problem with the bike is that many components are constructed from metal that seems to suck in water and spit out rust. Worst of all is the three into four exhaust system. Heavy enough to be of use to a weight lifter, this corrodes inside and outside despite the coating of oil from the two stroke total loss lubrication system and also leaks around the joints in the system. At least it did until I bought a used system and took a welding torch to it. I welded up the joints which stopped that problem but after a year the baffles had gone again. As can be imagined, GT550 exhausts are not a common sight these days. There isn't a good aftermarket choice available - not unless you want the power delivery ruined and the noise increased until all the plod come running.
After much thought I redesigned the system myself, keeping all the basic dimensions the same. The downpipes were fabricated for me in stainless steel, with stubs matched for some universal megas of the straight through variety with some modified baffles off an old Yamaha twin. After much experimentation noise and power remained at the stock level and corrosion was eliminated. I probably saved about 20lbs in weight as well!
Other items that rusted were the seat base (repaired with a GRP kit), the mudguards, the chainguard, the headlamp shell and everything else that was chromed. However, everything was simple enough to discard (indicators, grabrail) or replace with plastic or stainless steel items. The frame has been touched up whilst the tank and sidepanels have been resprayed in British racing green. It now looks tidy rather than immaculate, well used rather than straight from the crate. It isn't the most beautiful thing on the road, its styling could just as easily be of the sixties as of the seventies.
The engine, though, has been a gem. Still on the original pistons and chrome bore, the top end gets a decoke every 15000 miles, the carbs, oil pump and ignition timing set every 5000 miles and the gearbox oil changed every 2000 miles. It hasn't given any real problems, although the gearbox has become a little imprecise with age and there are a couple of false neutrals.
Consumable consumption is not unreasonble. A set of Roadrunners (which feel a lot safer than Dunlops) lasts a good 12000 miles, brake shoes at both ends around 20,000 miles, only the chain and sprockets let the side down, around 6500 miles for the former and 9000 miles for the latter. Electrics are still totally original save for a QH front light. The electric start has never worked, its handlebar switch is now an extra horn button which controls a set of air horns that frightens the life out of me.
Most of the GTs I see around are in an awful state. Because it lacks the obvious appeal of the Kawasaka triples or Yamaha twins, they tend to be thrashed and neglected - it's this abuse I think that has given them their reputation for poor durability. Find one in good shape, look after it and treat it with respect, and I think you'll find it's a perfectly decent motorcycle. I have no intention of selling mine for many years to come.
Adam West
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The bike was on its centrestand outside the vendor's house. It looked surprisingly good for a fifteen year old machine. The result of a mere two owners since the GT380 was sold in 1975 and no more strenuous use than summer commuting. It started after four kicks, bit of a smokescreen but that was expected on an old stroker with 29000 miles on the clock. The 3 into 4 exhaust was rusty but intact and the paint was a bit faded but no rust.
The first spin usually reveals a lot about a motorcycle. In this case that there was hardly any power, lots of weight and an excess of wallowing. The owner looked a bit concerned; to check the engine out I'd screamed it up the street with full throttle in second. By the time I returned the cloud of pollutants was just starting to clear.
The owner wanted £500 but after I muttered something about the motor needing new crankshaft seals and a rebore, £325 was all it took to get my greedy mitts on the stroker. The ride home revealed the three cylinder engine as being a gutless heap, refusing to push the wallowing machine to more than 90mph. Despite critical weight redistribution, as in getting my head down between the clocks, the suspension revealed its age and the frame as being made of a substance nearer jelly than steel by the way the handlebars shook wildly in my hands the moment the speedo hit 91mph.
Grabbing the front brake lever until it came back to the bars and stamping on the foot pedal, soon had the speedo down to 60mph and my heart rate back to something like normal. Back home I could find nothing that was actually loose but suspected that the minimal swinging arm mounts were to blame for the hinged in the middle feel of the frame.
It was pretty obvious that the bike's forte was as a cheap and cheerful commuter, so it was slung into the ten mile trawl to work every day, with the winter coming on I could keep my other bikes warm and safe in the garage. The GT380's pleasant to ride at low speeds, keeps ahead of the cagers and proved generally reliable.
Except when it rained. Rain got into the wiring, causing one or even two cylinders to cut out. There didn't seem all that much difference in performance as a twin but when it went down to being a single and the power suddenly came back in on the wet road it would throw the back tyre off in an arc. This was more or less controllable as I was always poised in readiness. It made the GT a more interesting bike to ride.
The same couldn't be said for the front disc brake in the wet. Quite powerful in the dry, water caused it to work only as an on-off switch which even after a couple of years I couldn't adapt to. Engine braking wasn't much cop, so it was down to planning ahead and using the rear drum brake. I suppose if I fitted some decent rubber rather than the half worn breaker's specials, the front wheel skids might've been controllable enough to let me use the brake in the wet!
Every 500 to 600 miles the engine would start to run rough, needing the points and ignition timing set with a strobe. All kind of engine nastiness results if this is neglected. Oil consumption was reasonable at 300mpp and the smokescreen cleared up if the bike was given its head a couple of times during the commute.
I was impressed with tyre wear, 2 millimetres of tread would last about 5000 miles, which was all a new chain would do - ridiculous given the low power output. Fuel was also poor, but no surprise for a big stroker - 30 to 40mpg, usually nearer the former than the latter. Still, it proved reasonably cheap during the winter commuting session (October to March).
During the better weather the GT was neglected as I enjoyed my other bikes. Poor thing sat at the back of the garage sulking. I did buy a spare engine for fifty quid, the owner reckoned it ran perfectly but I hadn't heard it going. Come October when I started the GT the clouds of smoke refused to clear up. The crankshaft seals had dried up of oil and worn rapidly when the engine whirred into life. The spare engine was in an identical state.
I couldn't justify an exchange crankshaft but found a bottom end in good nick for £40. The engine was treated to the best cylinders and a new set of pistons and rings - spares are still available from Suzuki but they take weeks, sometimes months to arrive..... it was December before the GT was back on the road.
I ran the bike in over 200 miles, keen to see if any new power was available. It wasn't, but the handling was becoming even worse with lots of wallowing and wobbles at a mere 70mph.
The shuffling was added to by the seat base corroding away under me. I was taking bets as to whether a silencer or the seat would fall off. Losing a baffle ruined the carburation with flat spots in the 3000 to 6000 rev range. A lot of GT's still have the original exhaust because the two stroke lubrication process deposits lots of oil on their insides. By the time the baffles start falling out silencers are not far off from being paper thin.
A new set of exhausts cost more than the bike was worth. I decided that the answer was to convert the 3-4 into a 3-4-2 exhaust and slip two GP100 silencers on (they were available cheaply in the breakers). I was pleasantly surprised at the quiet, efficient running until I tried to go above 5000 revs and found it wouldn't. I decided that this was excuse enough not to renew the swinging arm bearings as it wasn't fast enough to worry a CG125.
The lack of revs became more worrying when fifth and sixth gears refused to engage. Imagine my chagrin when the small-ends starting ringing out in protest. They had looked a bit dubious when I did the rebuild, but I thought they might've had 5 to 10,000 miles life left in ‘em.
My neighbour two doors away crashed his Suzuki GT250 and broke both legs. Whilst he was still semi-comatose I convinced him to give me the wreckage for fifty quid. The only thing I could salvage was the two cylinder motor, but that was all I wanted. This went into the GT380's chassis without much hassle; they were of the same era and it wouldn't have surprised me if their frames were basically similar.
The 250 engine seemed to weigh half as much and put out twice the power. This was partly illusion, it had a pulse of power at 6500 revs that after the sleepy GT380 brought a grin to my face until, with 80mph on the clock, the chassis felt like it was falling apart under me.
Soon after that I finally put in some new swinging arm bearings, half a dozen washers in the front forks and a less knackered set of shocks out back. It was much better but nowhere near as nice as something relatively mundane like a GS400. Top speed proved identical to the 380, but it was a lot more fun getting there and fuel worked out at nearer 45 than 40mpg.
I was quite happy with this machine until the seat finally fell off, surprising me sufficiently to roll the bike down the road at about 50mph. The GT's alternator took the brunt of the crash, writing off the crank and engine cases in the process.
The chassis survived save for a few dents and bent ancillaries, so I had no choice but to use my rebuilt GT380 engine. This consisted of the best bits from my huge pile of worn parts, about the only thing I'd really sorted was the gearbox, by replacing the bent selectors. A 3-3 exhaust topped by a set of RD expansion chambers made the GT sound much meaner but produced several severe flat spots below 5000rpm. Still, it looks like the plot will get me through another winter.
M.K.
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Why buy an eight year old two stroke with appalling handling and miserable fuel economy? My excuse was as a cheap hack while my XS850 was being repaired, though to be honest nostalgia was probably the main reason. When I was an impressionable teenager, a friend with a shiny red GT380 had startled me with its brute power, achieving the heady speed of 89mph two up, down the local dual carriageway.
Seeing the forlorn S reg GT380 going for only 250 quid in a dealers, I blinded myself to the rust, the leaky forks and the questionable tyres. I even believed the salesman's promise that the bike would be serviced before I collected it. When I turned up, it wouldn't even start until new plugs had been fitted and a battery borrowed from a hapless Kwacker. I should have guessed what was in store for me when asked to sign a disclaimer form, stating that the bike was unfit to ride and being sold for repair only; but love is blind.
I arrived home with only momentary panic when I thought the locking fuel cap was going to stay jammed, leaving me with only a tablespoonful of petrol left in the tank. I noticed that the brake light didn't seem to work, then realised that with bikes of this age it was triggered only by the rear brake - hardly useful, when most of the braking is done with the front!
The indicators didn't, even after charging the battery. Neither did the dip position on the headlight. A new flasher unit and headlamp bulb cured these faults. I also needed some ingenuity to fix one of the sidepanels, on which the mounting lugs had broken, and to add a chainguard (missing when bought).
For the uninitiated, the GT380 has a three cylinder in-line two stroke engine, with six gears and a handy digital gear display. Oil is stored in a separate oil tank (beneath the seat) and delivered to main bearings and carb inlet by the trusty CCI system. The engine also features the Ram Air system which supposedly directs air through the cooling fins to cool the engine. How this differs from other air cooled engines I was never sure - my machine was missing the top cowling but seemed none the worse for that.
After my first trip of twenty miles, the bike became rough at tickover, then stalled a few times and finally refused to start. A quick check revealed plenty of petrol, but no spark. The battery was flat. At 377lbs, the bike was no heavyweight but I thought I'd bought a GS1000 by mistake after pushing it two and a half miles. I bought a new battery - despite this, the bike didn't run well, but got me home.
I began to investigate the charging circuit, recalling rumours I'd heard about Suzuki electrics. I found that the OEM rectifier had been replaced by two bridge units but the bodge seemed to work. The regulator, a simple mechanical type, performed better once its contacts had been cleaned up. Where, then, were the missing volts? The alternator, it turned out, had had one set of coils sawn through in a vain attempt to sort out a short.
Finding a replacement alternator was not easy. I ordered one from a breakers which didn't arrive. I went in search of a firm said to rewind alternators but no-one had heard of them at the given address. For a while, I rode on a total loss basis - which meant charging the battery both at home and at work during the winter. In the end, I rewound the alternator myself - a fiddly and disheartening job.
Back on the road again, I found that under sharp braking the rear wheel locked up and threatened to chuck me down the road. I bought some new brake shoes and pads, in the hope of improving matters. At the front was a single disc, and neither the new pads nor a thorough bleeding of the hydraulics improved its efficiency. It always felt spongy. I suppose with hindsight some Goodridge would have helped.
The forks had little damping and oil appeared to be leaking. Removing the dust covers, I discovered a cunning dodge - someone had packed out the space with kitchen tissue, which would absorb leaking oil long enough to sell the bike. I fitted new fork oil seals. With the 235cc of oil advised by the manual, the forks locked up painfully on meeting London potholes, doing untold damage to the new seals. I removed a few cc and the handling improved. Replacing the rear shocks (which looked like the originals) might have helped further, but would have defeated the point of a cheap second bike.
When I bought the bike, there was a sticker over the speedo disclaiming the measured mileage, but as it read 37000 miles I didn't think it had been clocked, anyone taking the trouble would have set it a bit lower - 27000 miles perhaps. I'd originally bought the bike with thoughts of restoring it, but just keeping it on the road was hard enough. Somehow, I got an MOT, though the tester reckoned the forks were twisted and the headstock loose. The instrument glasses were horribly scratched but rubbing in engine oil made them more transparent.
I never found out what the top speed of the machine was, as I didn't take it on a long enough road. It's acceleration wasn't bad, though, provided it was thrashed mercilessly. At the traffic light GP, it usually kept up with bigger four strokes. After a bigger bike, I found that I had to ride more smoothly, keeping the momentum up and relying less on hard acceleration or frantic braking to make rapid progress. To that extent, I guess riding the bike improved my riding style. The downside was the unpredictable handling, soft suspension, abysmal tyres and poor brakes.
The styling and overall design of the cycle parts were dated. The alloy crankcases had that classic Jap crap look; the spoked wheels with pseudo chromed rims were hard to keep (read get) clean. The three into four exhaust collected muck and added pounds to the overall weight. It also rattled annoyingly near where it joined the barrels, but tightening up the exhaust studs did nothing to cure it.
Overall, what were the good points? The engine design was simple - no reed or rotary valves. It had a basic ignition system, with no expensive electronics. The oily exhaust of a two stroke meant that the bike still had the original silencers after eight years. Servicing was easily performed without the benefit of an engineering degree or portable computer. I wouldn't go as far as the Haynes manual - searing acceleration, quiet running and almost complete absence of vibration, but then I didn't have one from new. Neither did I keep the bike long enough to need to change the tyres, but judging from the apparent age of the ones fitted, they would have rotted before they wore out.
Bad points? Handling, as above. Fuel economy was only acceptable (40mpg) if you didn't use the performance. It was heavy (a GPZ500 is 2lbs lighter, an FT500 25lbs). It has three sets of points to adjust and three carbs to set - for 37hp?
To put the bike into perspective, it had the performance of, say, a Suzuki 250 X7 or a well thrashed RD250LC. Handling was as good as one could expect considering the age of the machine. Sure, it would be possible to improve matters - religiously renew the steering head bearings, swinging arm bearings, get the rims respoked, upgrade the suspension, etc - but at what cost?
And, you'd still only end up with a machine as good as the basic frame design would allow. No, a bike like this only makes sense if bought for peanuts and run into the ground. My definition of a cheap hack is a bike which costs next to nothing to run, starts reliably and isn't in imminent danger of being stolen. The GT380 met only the last of these conditions, and the alternator fault had returned, so I put it up for sale. A lad offered me £55, which seemed fair enough. I even threw in the box of spare parts I'd accumulated for it. In fact, I was so sick of the heap I'd have given it away!
B.P.Munt
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My Suzuki GT750 did not come from the factory but from three different rat bikes, each costing less than a hundred notes (some five years ago). One bike, the eldest and highest mileage (1974, 59,700 miles) still ran after a fashion and was thrown into my commuting chores for a couple of months. The watercooled, three cylinder motor would only run to 5000 revs - down to a combination of engine wear and expansion chambers with open carbs. The chassis was horrible, the frame slightly bent and the suspension sagging on its springs. Rather than curse the lack of speed I was thankful for its slowness - it kept me from falling off too many times.
Starting involved pushing the heap twenty yards, throwing myself on the seat and hoping it would bump into life. Even with some quite essential bits junked (they had rusted away or just fallen off), the beast must've weighed near 500lbs. It was a strange and vicious way of keeping fit.
Running through town I was the centre of attention due to the racket out of the exhaust and the various bearings and pistons complaining about having to carry on working. I wrestled with the bars, throttle and gear lever trying to keep the bike on the desired path, about the only thing that worked well were the brakes. So well did the front discs operate they put the forks down on their stops, all twisted up with the tyre screaming for help as it skidded along the road.
A week or so was all I needed to become used to the monster. I was used to old Japanese horrors and was becoming strangely attracted to the exhaust howl and the way the bike carried on forward regardless of the fact that it gave every sign of seizing up and falling apart. When the engine finally locked up I was impressed enough with the bike to look for another.
I had already made some contacts, GT750s are rare enough on the road to allow owners to chase each down and exchange anecdotes. Despite the state of my bike I'd had two offers for it from owners looking for a spare GT. A few phone calls got the word out that I was looking for another Suzuki and about a week later a totally worn out GT750 turned up, a 1976 version this time.
The frame was straight and there were a couple of electrical and engine bits that were salvageable. The cylinder bores were okay, so I used the other pistons with a new set of rings, the pistons being oversize in standard but worn bores. The only thing I could do with the crankshaft was exchange it for a rebuilt one. One gearbox had reasonable selectors, the other good gears, so it didn't take much thought to combine them. That just left some better suspension, which the local breaker was happy enough to provide from a GS750. Some hammer, chisel and paint work saw the bike back on the road.
This time it would start on the kickstart - after six or seven kicks. After a couple of months I found myself running to fat, so used had my muscles become to the bump start. Handling was never what could be called taut, the GT wallowed and weaved, twisted and thumped every time the speedo reluctantly went beyond 75mph.
Speed wobbles were not entirely absent, either, usually coming in at 90 to 100mph. I always thought that it was the dizzy engine vibes come 7500 revs that was turning the frame to jelly, thus disconnecting the headstock from the frame - well, that's what it felt like.
After a couple of months, when I decided that the motor wasn't about to explode, I took some thick steel plate and welded it around the headstock and swinging arm. It pushed the wobbles up to 110mph, which was all what were left of the GT's 60 horses could manage.
The first bike would do only 25 to 30mpg, so when the second one turned in 35 to 40mpg I was quite pleased......in reality, given its poor performance I should've been getting twice that. Other running costs were minimal not because nothing wore out but because I always stuck on the cheapest stuff I could find from breakers.
I became a known face in the two local breakers, so when one was offered a GT750 which he didn't want my phone number was passed on. This was seven months into ownership of the second one with no on the road failures. This 1978 model looked tired, didn't run and had a lot of dents in the cycle parts. Its only good point was cheapness.
The plan was simple enough, use the new bike with my existing stock of parts to build a second engine. In a moment of weakness I convinced myself that I should tune it up! Thus high compression pistons, enlarged ports, secondhand racing carbs and a set of expansion chambers to replace the rusty 3-4 standard system I had rescued from the second bike.
By the time I'd finished, after about six months of pissing around and off-loading a pile of dosh, the existing engine was misfiring at high revs and feeling like it was about to seize up.
This wasn't as bad as it sounds, the bike had been thrashed around the Continent for three months in the company of some mad nutters on equally aged but much faster big Japanese fours. 100mph cruising sessions practically had the crankcases melting down and I wrenched my shoulder muscles keeping the GT within one lane of traffic.
So, it was out with old and in with the new. What a lovely howl the triple makes on spannies! I'd stripped most of the junk off the GT, probably got its wet weight down to 475lbs and fitted a much modified Z1100 front end when its owner conveniently blew up his motor - we told him not to fit a turbo-charger......
I was expecting a lot from this reconstructed motor, I'd put enough effort into it! There was no power below 5000 revs, then a 1000rpm's worth of stuttering and then a fantastic hard edged howl as the GT hurtled forward at a startling pace. I knew I'd done something right when the front wheel reared up almost vertically. Power ran out at 9000 revs when the vibration threatened to split the petrol tank in two!
I played around with the carbs, trying to get it to run at lower revs, but all I did was end up flooding the motor with an excess of petrol. The bike was so bad in town that I had to buy a rat GT250 for commuting to work. Many highway jinks followed on the bigger Suzuki, which included putting 130mph on the clock on one stretch of empty motorway, only to find the damn thing weaving over three lanes of highway. I put on some HD shocks and did some more frame bracing, which seemed to work a treat.
Meanwhile, the other engine had another rebuild to stock tune except for a little bit of file work on the ports. Parts were becoming rarer and more expensive whilst running bikes were advertised at silly prices. One advantage of the GT chassis was that it was large enough to house any number of stroker engines, so if GT750 parts ever do dry up completely I might fit an RD motor or something.
Of course, the durability of the tuned mill is just good enough to take you from one end of the country and back again - don't ask....I arrived back home from this epic burn with rumbling main bearings and a crotch full of petrol from where the Araldite repair had started to leak!
For the past year or so, some 14000 miles, I've been using the stock motor which seems to be good for 20,000 miles between rebuilds even when it's thrashed and neglected. One of my mates recently paid £1500 for an immaculate, 3000 miler in completely stock condition and we have great fun trying to burn each other off. GT750s are interesting bikes, way off the pace, these days, but fun to own and ride all the same.
Mike Slough
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My Suzuki GT550, a fat boy two stroke triple, receives all kinds of nasty, snide comments from people who think they know the whole story without even slinging a leg over the evil little piece of slime. The bikes have such a poor reputation that they can be picked up for next to nothing and I've garage full of both 380 and 550's for cheap spares. Just to confuse the pundits, the bike looks stock at a quick glance, the only obvious modification, the junking of the gargantuan three into four exhaust. The inevitable spannies are offered as evidence of my anti-social status.
And, of course, a vindictive layer of exhaust emissions which varies between the tolerable and the choking. The former when it's used in the midrange under acceleration, the latter when it's spent too much time below 2000rpm in town. This despite the separate oil tank and metered delivery by the oil pump. There are a long list of two stroke horrors that have four stroke owners thankful for their choice of machine, including short spark plug life, massive oil consumption and dubious longevity of the engine internals.
What makes my triple special is the race tuned ports, carbs and exhaust. The stock engine gives a pathetic 40hp from 543cc - it's a sluggardly beast that can't keep up with 400 Superdreams but goes through petrol like a GSX1100 ridden in the red. My motor's tuned so that it hardly runs below 5000rpm, then comes in with H1 ferocity and the kind of exhaust screech that drowns out passing aeroplanes. It's possible to rev past nine grand but only if you're not worried about returning home with a crankcase full of main bearings.
I've had great fun waiting sedately at the lights, then letting loose with the throttle, doing a hundred yard wheelie out ahead of my shocked assailant, whose life is significantly shortened not just by the angst but also by the lung fulls of exhaust gas he has to eat. Lovely. Acceleration can be vicious enough to throw pillions off the back! Top speed is more than 125mph, but I find that's a reasonable point to back off to ensure engine longevity. There's also the question of the vibes which are frenzied above 7000 revs, bad enough to break exhausts, crack engine mountings and leave my teeth tingling for an hour afterwards.
A stock bike wouldn't have been easy to ride at those kinds of speed, especially after a little wear had got into the marginal OE suspension. I'd gone so far as to replace the front end with an early GSX550 offering, place Girlings and a hefty aluminium swinging arm out back, and finished off the whole job with some extra bracing around the headstock and swinging arm. The GT550 frame has a passing resemblance to the GT250's, which explains a lot of the original horrors.
I went to so much trouble because the first time I tried to do 80mph on a tired stock bike it let loose with the biggest tank slapper I've ever experienced. I was flicked every which way completely out of control. Somehow, reacting instinctively, I lost a lot of the speed before rolling off the road. The GT's stability is not an object lesson in perfection on good tarmac. On gravel then grass it slewed all over the shop until the front wheel dug in.
I was thrown clear and most of the bike's momentum was lost in snapping off the forks. Even if they had survived entirely intact I would've still replaced them with something better (which isn't hard, almost anything is an improvement). The AA man was not overjoyed to have to help excavate the 450lbs of broken metal, nor by the stink of vomit which had coated my lid and jacket after I'd thrown up.
After the remedial chassis work handling was still not outstanding, the frame geometry and weight distribution saw to that. There were weaves, a hell of a lot of effort needed to swing her through bends and some violent reactions to large road bumps. However much the chassis protested, the shakes never went berserk, they always died down as soon as the road levelled out or a bit of speed was lost. After a months worth of caution I began to explore the bike's limits without going into a shaking fit every time the speedo closed in on 80mph!
A major limit on cornering was the ground clearance. I'd cut the stands back, on the stock bike they used to dig in, sending shudders through both the chassis and my mind. It was the exhaust that dug in now, a result of the bulky expansion chambers and a lack of room underneath the engine. The GT rode an inch higher on the revised suspension, but still managed a flurry of sparks whenever I tried to show a more modern bike who was boss on the curvy roads. It wasn't dangerous as it just wore a hole in the silencers rather than trying to throw the bike off the road. I did try some other spannies, which opened out further along the downpipe but they lost a lot of the motor's urge.
With the much modified engine and exhaust the GT550 had lost the impression of being as bland as white bread. Instead, it no longer liked to cruise at a constant speed, only really working when used above 5000 revs in anger. Held, at say 6000rpm, it'd stutter and try to surge up and down the rev range. It was even poorer below 5000rpm, the total lack of power meaning it'd only work in first or second, where it made such a racket that I was likely to be stoned by pedestrians. Excessive use of the gearbox was always necessary, whether out on the open road or in traffic.
That all made town riding very interesting, with the choice of coking up the plugs or running around on one wheel at insane, ever increasing velocities. The former led to frayed tempers as I had to do a plug swap, the latter to half the town's cops coming after me. Luckily, the traffic was so congested that I usually managed to lose them, although one BMW mounted plod did eventually roar up alongside. He let me off with a warning, but said he'd book me next time. I changed my route rather than the exhausts.
Clip-ons, halfway down the fork legs, placed some extra weight over the front wheel, which cut down the wheelies to a more acceptable level and allowed me to use the excellent front GSX discs. The original front disc was a truly puny item that led to open warfare in the wet and I enjoyed smashing it to smithereens once I bought the GSX front end. In fact, the GSX discs were so powerful that in emergency stops they would shake the whole bike and cause me to think the frame was breaking up. The GT would pull up in a more or less straight line so I taught myself to ignore the shannigans. A bit of care had to be used in the wet, as the Avon tyre would try to slide away from the bike.
With the clip-ons, the riding position became very tiresome after 30 minutes. The seat was original, the foam had sagged and an excess of weight was put on my backside from the forward mounted pegs. A 100 miles in a day had me staggering around like an arthritic pensioner, but that was okay as the GT was mostly used for the short haul to work and occasional back lane bashing.
It was too expensive to take very far. A 100 miles would need three gallons of petrol, two pints of oil and a new set of spark plugs. Bits didn't fall off between 500 mile services, though they might crack up. Servicing consisted of a carb balance (30 minutes) and ignition timing (60 minutes), the latter involving a lot of cursing as a strobe was needed. Failure to service the beast every 500 miles resulted in an engine that refused to start for half an hour; then it would try to put some holes in the pistons.
Blowing head gaskets, knackered rings and stripped head studs were all too common engine maladies. Less frequent were wrecked engine seals, knackered crankshaft bearings and shattered pistons. The enlarged ports gave the rings a particularly hard time, lasting less than 2000 miles. Major components all tended to wear out together, necessitating an engine rebuild at 8 to 10,000 miles. Exchange crankshafts are still available.
The gearbox was supposed to be marginal but in 26000 miles I never had any complaints from mine. It wasn't exactly slick but was nowhere near as vague as a similarly aged Honda. It was all part and parcel of the experience. For the money you won't find a faster, nastier set of wheels, nor a much rarer one as I seem to have most of the others in my garage.
Dennis Isles
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One of the saddest things in the world is being in love with someone who doesn't give a shit. I feel that just about sums up the way the Suzuki GT750 has reacted to my tender ministrations. Despite spending hundreds, maybe even thousands, of pounds on engine and chassis rebuilds the bitch has always reacted as if I've neglected it something rotten and should merely be grateful for being on the same planet.
It all started three years ago when the local hoodlum - there always seems to be one in every borough - decided it was time to sell his '76 race spec GT750. For some obscure reason he reckoned I would be the ideal purchaser after I'd commented favourably on the banshee wail out of the three spannies. I demurred, not being in favour of clip-ons halfway down the forks nor even of 2000rpm power bands.
'Don't worry about that, mate,' said he. 'I've got all the stock parts in the shed.' He spoke as he rode, so fast that all the words merged together and a moment's inattention rendered them a stream of babble. His hands shook like he was in the throes of an epileptic fit and his pupils were tiny pin-pricks. 'Keep 'er for the weekend, see what you think.'
I dutifully explored the parameters of a race replica with a heavily tuned three cylinder stroker mill and truth to tell was more scared than impressed. Something to do with the effect of shot swinging arm bearings on my 125mph velocity - just as well that the motorway was both wide and deserted.
'Don't worry about that, mate, you'll soon get used to it. All those seventies Jap's were the same,' he babbled. 'Look, I want the bike to go to a good home so I'll let you have it for £500 with all the spares thrown in. I've got a shed full of stuff back home.' It was the five hundred quid that got my attention, good GT750's going for around a grand. All it'd take was a bit of spanner wielding to get her back to stock and I'd double my money.
The deal was done, a Transit load of bits delivered and the GT employed for the drag into work. I say drag, as the only way the Suzuki would successfully run was if I was trying to break the standing quarter record. There was no knowing what mileage the 15 year old engine had done, but it was large enough to have worn out the gearbox selectors. Judging by the way the engine flew into the red when a false neutral was hit it was just as well that there were no valves to tangle but I guess piston speeds must've approached warp two.
There were some other malicious traits as well. The twin discs out front may or may not have been stock - I suspect that they were - but they were evil and extreme in the wet. I was never sure if they were going to instantly lock up the front wheel or refuse to work altogether. They always juddered because the discs were a little warped but they seemed too thin to risk having machined. This fragile front end was complemented by a rear drum that simply didn't work. Removal of the back wheel revealed this was because there were no shoes in it!
On most bikes there's a useful bit of engine braking, on the GT it was like slamming into a brick wall. So efficacious that the chain threatened to leap off the sprockets and if maintained for more than a couple of seconds all three spark plugs would oil up to a degree that required a plug swap. Slowing down, then, meant lots of throttle blipping and argy-bargy on the gearchange.
Together with vague and sometimes frightening handling, these traits turned me into a nervous wreck after a couple of weeks of impossible spinal contortions. When I started going through the cache of spares I found that anything that wasn't worn out was rusted through. I had a great big heap of scrap cluttering up my garage and a malevolent motorcycle sitting in the front garden.
It was shortly after this realisation that a strange and terrifying thing began to happen for no reason I could put a finger on, other than the terrific wail out of the exhaust system and the relief of fitting a proper pair of handlebars (as the clamps hadn't been removed). Yes, I fell headlong in love with the GT750, the kind of outrageous passion a middle-aged man feels for a teenage girl glowing with the first flush of sexuality.
I was determined, though, to put the bike back into a more useful stock form. This quest was intensified when after two months the pistons started to rattle and the engine almost refused to run at any revs. Being perverted, I wanted to keep the spannies, so the hunt for used barrels and pistons was on - my engine had some such large holes taken out of the ports it was a wonder it'd run for so long. GT750's are getting a bit long in the tooth, these days, but after two weeks of frantic phones calls I had the bits in my hands. I'd also found a lot of cycle parts, spending about three hundred quid in all. A bit excessive but at least the GT would more or less be back to stock.
After a lot of hassle with the carb jets I was once again on the road. The stock engine was a lot more responsive and easy running but lacked the hard edged feel of the earlier effort. I was soon suffering withdrawal symptoms! Consolation came in the form of improved economy (35 compared to 25mpg), being able to get to work without a plug swap and an end to the almost compulsory police chases that were resultant from mono-wheeling down the High Street.
New swinging arm bearings, a pair of Koni shocks and a set of Metzeler tyres were a sufficient shock to the system to transform the wobbles and vagueness into a semblance of civility and predictability. That only left the brakes, the rear end easily sorted with a new pair of shoes and the front rather more expensively cured with a whole GS750 front end, which went on with surprising ease and really did make the bike much nicer.
Having finally got the GT750 into a state where it could be safely introduced to my friends, I was a bit horrified to find clouds of steam billowing out of the radiator. This turned out not to be due to any fault in the cooling system but because the ignition timing had slipped, resulting in an engine that wanted to go molten. The pistons were added to my collection of paperweights and old race engine items bodged in with a new set of rings.
One thing I had noted with the rebuilt motor was an increase in vibes between 4000 and 6000rpm. With the race pistons, which were cut back and made from better alloy, and therefore a lot lighter than stock, the vibes were noticeably diminished. It may just be that the crankshaft was originally balanced to suit these pistons, but I think having markedly less reciprocating mass must make a difference.
There are all kinds of stories about stroker crankshafts wearing out in a big way but one of the few verifiable facts about the GT was that 4000 miles before I bought it the crankshaft had been rebuilt. GT750 cranks are usually good for at least 20,000 miles, as long as an eye is kept on the oil level which can do a disappearing act in a remarkably short time when the motor is caned relentlessly - I've got it down to a pint in 50 miles, although twice that is more normal. Yes, the infamous stroker haze of pollutants is present for most of the time.
I wasn't sure how long my engine bodge was going to last but I needn't have worried because the gearbox went first. As mentioned, it'd always been a bit nasty but this time some teeth spat off the cogs, causing an intense grinding sensation to rumble through the chassis. I was only thankful that the damage was contained within the gearbox itself. It took six months to find used gearbox bits that weren't equally knackered. I took the opportunity to do a full cycle part renovation, which cost about £250.
Back on the road I had a gay old time with all systems go - for three months! Then the engine seized up solid at 80mph, only a desperate snatch at the clutch lever saved me from rolling off the road. The pistons were so solidly welded to the barrels that it took me a week's worth of hammering to free the components. I had a perfect chassis with a ruined engine; rather like a beautiful woman with AIDS! Still, I didn't give up and went on a hunt for engine parts that took almost eight months as the seized oil pump had led to comprehensive damage.
I still have the GT750 and, at the moment, it runs very nicely. I have something more modern for general use but it does nothing for my heart or soul. The Suzuki, inexplicably, remains at the centre of my life.
Geoff Davis
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I bought a newish Suzuki GT750 in 1977. An advanced piece of machinery back then, a watercooled stroker triple that was as restrained in its performance as it was in its appearance. I kept this bike for a little under a year, impressed with its reliability and, er, its reliability. It was too heavy and too slow to keep up with my mates and I ended up buying a Z1, which handled like a real dog but kept the adrenaline going and could blow most other machines into the weeds.
In 1992 I went off to the BMF show and ended up talking to a mature chap on an immaculate GT750 with only 8500 miles on the clock. This brought back many pleasant memories, having got the speed thing out of my system I was interested when I learnt it was for sale. £2750! Crazy money, but we swapped telephone numbers and I had a good listen to the engine.
Two months later I received a phone call. I could have the GT for 2000 notes. Still too much, I offered £1500 and we agreed on £1750. He rode over the next day, I had a test ride and the bike was mine. Better than new sprang to mind when I looked over the chassis. Really immaculate.
One week and 150 miles later I was cursing the past owner. The gearbox had gone off, changes having all the precision of a meat grinder. I checked the transmission oil...nearly empty. I filled up, the gearchange worked well. 150 miles later the same thing happened again. Then I began to panic, having read about blown crankshaft seals draining off the gearbox oil. Smoke out of the exhaust had always been a touch heavy but I'd believed the past owner when he said the oil pump was turned up to its highest setting for safety reasons.
Down to the local mechanic, not a bad chap who was quite sympathetic when he revealed that I'd need an exchange crankshaft. Also, that the clock didn't match the general state of the engine that had maybe done 30-40,000 miles. About three weeks later I was given back the machine, with the warning that the gearbox bearings might go at any time... nothing like inspiring a bit of confidence. I couldn't afford to have them all replaced as well. In fact, the gearchange was very smooth and precise, about the only exceptional feature that the generally bland machine could claim.
After that little adventure my joy at owning such an engineering relic was greatly diminished. I was waiting for the next disaster to happen. Had a few near misses from the chassis. The gleaming chrome and shining paint hid the fact that the front forks were softly sprung and that the back end was mushy. Not too bad up to 70mph, but thereafter weaves and wobbles set in that had my brain buzzing with possible disaster.
It wasn't, even on stock suspension, an evil handler. There was always the option of backing off the throttle or using the twin discs out front. The latter, at least, had Goodridge hose and non-standard pads. Something I knew from the way they worked in the wet without lag. My first GT had left me with a heavily creased forehead from the braking anxieties in the rain. On this one, the discs were furious enough to have the forks shaking in their yokes but sensitive enough to react predictably to a gentler caress of the lever.
The bike was too heavy and wide to be much fun in town. Many a time I came close to ripping off the ends of the crankshaft, which stuck out so far they made the bike as wide as a four. The power was okay below 5000 revs, its low state of tune and stroker nature meaning there was a steady stream of grunt. In a chassis a hundred pounds lighter, the top end power might've been impressive, as it was many a good 550 could burn me off.
A friend likened the bike to a rolling armchair on his first outing. On his second, when he'd overcooked it going into a corner, he reckoned it was a seesawing wheelchair with a death-wish. I sort of agreed with him but to be fair to the Suzuki, once its limits were learnt, I could crack along at a reasonable 80 to 90mph pace on most main roads.
One bizarre aspect of the machine was the way side-winds had the chassis all over the place. I wouldn't have dared fit a top box! I could lean into the wind but if it varied in intensity the whole bike rolled around as if the tyres were falling off the rims. I did try some modern rubber instead of the Avons, but even expensive Pirellis didn't make any appreciable difference, except they wore out at an incredible rate. From memory, the Avons lasted about 12000 miles, I didn't do that kind of mileage second time round so can't confirm if modern one's are any worse or better. The Pirellis lost 2mm of tread in 1500 miles, though they did feel safer in the wet.
Another aspect of the bike that was quite horrifying was the charging circuit. Everything was fine until I did a few hours of night riding with main beam on. Then the battery drained so that the motor was stuttering away until I flicked on to the pilot light. The battery started to charge, after half an hour I could go on to dip - for a while! The lights weren't much good for more than 50mph, so I tried to avoid extended periods of night riding. I reckon that one of the alternator coils had burnt out but didn't fancy tearing it out to check. I felt lucky, given Suzuki's reputation for naff electrics, that it didn't become any more mischievous.
Any bike this old is going to have its fair share of minor problems but unlike many a seventies superbike the GT750 didn't exactly inspire much madness. The kind of bike that made you ride sanely and only break the speed limit by a sensible margin. I did try some top speed runs on a deserted bit of motorway, early in the morning. The best I managed on the clock was 120mph, after that the wallowing and vibration was too much to bear. Getting past the ton was always hard work, the whole machine feeling a bit frenzied.
Not to mention that fuel became really horrendous above 90mph. Normally, I'd get a pretty pathetic 35 to 40mpg but at higher speeds it'd touch 25mpg or even 20mpg! Oil was okay at 200mpp with the oil pump on its minimum setting - using modern stroker oil the pollution haze only turned noticeable after about fifteen minutes of slow town riding when the engine really needed a good dose of throttle to clean itself out.
After nine months I decided it was time to move on. There's a whole subculture of bikers into seventies machines, partly because of cheap insurance, and the GT went for £1950. Like I said, it looked immaculate and ran impressively first time out. A lot of riders are just reliving their youth, using the bikes as a pose rather than for hard-core motorcycling. Shades of the British bike scene.
If that's all you want then the GT750's not half bad. I went for a Z1 at £2500. Another shock to the system as it was running OE suspension but it's more fun than a night in a Brazilian brothel. Also, the motor's much tougher than the stroker triple, something to bear in mind when paying big money for a GT.
John Draper
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The Suzuki GT550, a three cylinder two stroke that was famous for neither an excess of power nor style, looked a bit rough and sounded incredibly noisy. The bike came with an assortment of spares in several large boxes, not all the bits from a GT550. When I got the bike and parts home, I set about sorting it out. Major faults were a left-hand barrel on the right, no exhaust gaskets, exhausts mounted incorrectly, head gaskets blowing, carbs leaking, carb rubbers split, chronic oil leaks, air filters and box not fitted, both tyres fitted the wrong way around, no front brakes (though they looked great, drilled twin discs off a 750), sidepanels with broken mounting spigots.....the list goes on and on.
The exhaust was removed, heads off, barrels lifted - out of the total of seven barrels I had three decent ones and therefore fitted them in the correct positions. The left-hand piston was a pretty sloppy fit in its bore, but apart from that the motor was in pretty good order. The exhausts looked good but only two of the four had baffles, so I took the baffles out and made copies. I then refitted them correctly.
The motor ran a bit better after all that effort, but the tickover was erratic, vibration was a problem, and the carbs still leaked. I traded the bits I didn't need for bits I could use at a breakers. With another set of carbs I got it running a lot smoother and then started thinking about getting the bike on the road. I suppose at this point I had better admit that the Suzuki is the sixth unfinished project I have bought in the past few years, but would only be the second to actually make it on to the road. The GT had nine previous owners and only 26000 miles on the clock over eleven years.
Next, I removed the clutch cover to trace the oil leaks and try to cure them. It was lucky I did as the clutch and crank had no locking washers and both nuts were loose. I carefully reassembled them and put the motor back together using home-made gaskets.
The brakes caused me a lot of problems because although I was able to get them to work, the lever was very spongy and could be pulled right back to the bars - no amount of bleeding helped, neither did a new master cylinder. The cure was braided brake hose, but because this was expensive I ended up using only one disc, which proved perfectly adequate.
Eventually, I was ready for the MOT test. Ever the pessimist, I didn't arrange insurance as I thought it was bound to fail, taking the bike on the trailer instead. The bike sailed through the test, but only after I'd ripped off the indicators as they suddenly stopped working. Straight away, I arranged insurance and tax, and took the bike out for its first run.
It felt so big and heavy, with so much power, I thought my arms would be pulled out of their sockets. These feelings soon passed as I got used to it. Compared to today's bikes it is not so fast and the handling was never very good even when they were new. I'm not a crazy rider, but it's very easy to scrape the undercarriage on smooth bends and bumpy bends cause much consternation as it bucks and weaves.
You can learn to cope with this by whacking on the brakes before you hit the curves. I was impressed enough with the bike to head off on a jaunt to Wales with the daughter on the back. After 30 miles we had to stop for a rest as the seat, which at first had felt reassuringly soft, had turned into a plank.
The bike was able to cruise at more than 70mph but the wind pressure meant many aches in my arms and shoulders, not helped by high bars and forward mounted footrests. As we exited a bend the engine cut out on to two cylinders and then went dead. Disaster! What had happened? Visions of seized pistons and other horrors flitted through my mind until I tried the fuel tap. Yep, it had run out of petrol. It was only doing about 36mpg, which had caught me out.
Coming back, I was enjoying myself filtering to the head of queues when the bike started to miss slightly but it went away when I turned the lights off and we reached home without incident. The next day the battery was flat but I just fitted the spare voltage control box and had no more problems.
Three weeks later, after doing 600 miles, I had a race with a hot hatchback which I burnt off by going to the redline in first and second. Immediately after that exploit the engine sounded like a tin of nuts being shaken and started to miss badly, eventually cutting out and refusing to start. The bike was too heavy to push home so I got the car and trailer out after walking all the way back to my house.
The left-hand big-end had gone and the piston had started to break up, badly scoring the barrel. £60 bought a good used crank, a decent barrel and piston, plus complete gasket set added to the expense. It was almost winter by the time I rebuilt the bike but it didn't stop me taking it for a ride up some unclassified roads that I knew only too well from rides on my trail bike.
I hit a ramp at speed on the Suzi, which jerked my foot on to the gear lever sending the bike into first gear, the revs soared followed by a sickening crunch down near by my left foot. The engine stopped dead, it went from 7000rpm to zero in about a tenth of a second. Oh shit! The road was still slightly damp so the bike slowly slid backwards with the front wheel locked. As there was a slight camber to the left I needed my right leg down to support the bike (it's easier to lean up the camber), so I couldn't use the back brake and there wasn't any engine braking.
When I tried to turn the front wheel the bike still slid in a straight line. Eventually, I slid back to the hump and then manoeuvred the bike to the verge. The problem could be seen straight away. The chain hadn't snapped, as I'd thought, but had jumped off the rear sprocket and jammed inside the engine cover after piling up around the gearbox sprocket.
So off came the clutch cover and then the crash bar that was in the way. Whilst freeing the chain I noticed that there was an oil line loose which meant removing the tank, airbox and carbs. All this took an hour but I wasn't in a hurry and even took some photos as I couldn't have broken down at a more beautiful spot if I'd tried.
One advantage of rebuilding cheap hacks is that you know your way around the motor and don't panic when something goes wrong. Even though one of the rollers had done a disappearing act and the chain could have snapped at any time, I carried on with my ride. After a few more miles one of the baffles came loose and I tied it back on with a plastic cable tie. Later, the clutch disappeared but I just carried on, hoping I wouldn't have to stop - and eventually made it home in one piece.
It still rattles, especially on the overrun, the only cure would be a rebore but the cost would be too high, so I'll just run it until something goes bang and then put it in the back of my garage for a few years until a time when I can advertise it as a Japanese Classic suitable for restoration.
Ben Wright.
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I wasn't feeling very well. I don't think it had anything to do with it being delivery day for the GT380. Though in retrospect, it might've been a case of foreboding. Some pervert had done a complete renovation of the 1975 stroker triple, then sold it on to the guy off whom I bought it. The clock read 74000 miles but the rebuild took place at 66000 miles, which if you were feeling optimistic meant the Suzuki was only 8000 miles old. I'd agreed on £1200 - a good deal if you saw the bike as a potential classic and damned silly if it turned out to be a rotting heap.
I staggered out of the house when the guy turned up. Choked on the fumes (they all smoke a little, the owner reckoned) and almost did my head in from the reflected sun off all the chrome. Money and doc's were exchanged and I went back to bed.
Two days later I spent an hour kicking the reluctant mill into life. Not much pressure needed on the kickstart but still tiring. Oddly, I found that it'd come to life first kick if used every day, but leave the bike alone for a day and it'd go into its sulking act. It's a good idea to change the three spark plugs every 500 miles; this was a bike from an era when the oiling system was designed on the safe side and the plugs coked up rapidly. You can get more from a set of plugs but only at the cost of lots of starting hassles and cutting out when idling in traffic.
As to the riding, the GT's a mild old thing, no Kawasaki triple this one. It seemed happiest in top gear at 35 to 85mph. It would wind up to the ton but then go dead as a dodo. Acceleration was similar to a 400 Superdream. Hardly arm wrenching but more than adequate for seeing off the cages. There was a slight stutter between 4500 and 5000rpm, almost as if the pistons were nipping up in the cylinders, but the momentum of the 400lb machine carried in through the vacuum in power.
The bike wouldn't pull below 30mph in top. Not because there wasn't any power but down to the chain trying to leap off its sprockets. At low revs there was always the chance that one or more plugs would choke up, requiring a handful of throttle and a bit of gearbox action. The latter easy going as the box was very slick and the clutch light.
The only area in which the engine showed its age was vibration. In the seventies it was probably considered smooth and sweet but standards have moved forwards on the back of improved engineering. I couldn't ignore the ruminations of the three cylinder engine, vibes attacking the bars and pegs as the revs rose. At 90mph the buzz was quite fierce in the bars, probably not helped by their being non-standard. It was relatively smooth at 60 to 75mph but tolerable at 85mph.
Suspension was standard, as unbelievably stupid as that might sound. It wasn't twenty years old, though, had been replaced when the bike was rebuilt. Not that it would've made much difference as the standard stuff, even when new, was generally crap. Poorly sprung and lacking in damping. Heavy oil in the front forks and a pair of ancient Girling shocks brought about a semblance of reasonable handling. On the stock stuff it was plain dangerous above 70mph, with weaving, wallowing and wobbling.
Modified, the bike still lacked precision and didn't really feel safe above 90mph on anything other than a billiard flat surface. Bumps had the handlebars twitching in my hands but it always died down once a smoother surface was attained. Compared to a mere 400 Superdream (okay, I admit it, I used to own one), the GT380 was pretty pathetic in the curves. But in relation to its mild performance and aged design it was passable.
It wasn't a real dog, then, but didn't inspire much admiration in either myself or the general populace. The latter probably down to the way they were often engulfed in a fog of pollutants...sometimes the engine ran smog free, other times it was up to MZ standards - to no rhyme nor reason that I could deduce.
One other irritant was the lack of comfort. The pegs were too far forward, ended up putting too much weight on my backside which screamed in protest after a mere 40 miles. I could wriggle about for another ten miles, or so, but then had to pull over for a breather. The most I did in a day was 300 miles - both my battered arse and tingling fingers protested strongly at this level of abuse.
Another problem with long distance riding was the way the single front disc started to go off after 60 miles. It wasn't the most powerful device in the world but its relative newness meant it didn't suffer from seizure. What happened over distance was that it would get too hot, frying the fluid and leading to the kind of fade expected of some ancient SLS drum brake. The rear drum was an on/off switch and engine braking was moderate, so the lack of retardation was often frightening! If I changed the fluid every 1000 miles this trait went away but on the third attempt the bleed nut broke off, so I was stuck with naff braking.
This was made much worse in the wet, when the lack of power was emphasized by the wet weather lag and, also, the way the motor would cut down to two or even one cylinders and then suddenly burst forth with full power.
The bike was running some Far Eastern rubber which wasn't up to much under normal circumstances but wasn't actually dangerous until the whole 37 horses hit the back wheel in the wet. Then, a wild skid resulted, which turned into a wobble as I tried to fight against it and ended with me giving a skin donation to the tarmac. It's at times like this when you question the validity of motorcycling. The bike was in a much worse state than me.
The GT had flipped from side to side, battering the expensive and once pristine exhaust; denting the classically shaped petrol tank; bending the forks and buckling the front wheel...further investigation revealed that the steering head was twisted out of line! After my skin had healed and the heart palpitations had died down to a tolerable level, the bike was taken down to the local mechanic. Forks and frame straightened, front wheel rebuilt and the rest cleaned up with some careful hammer work.
The result was no longer a pristine wannabe classic but it wasn't quite the kind of dog that attracted plod attention. If the performance didn't go so somnolent I would have ignored the 500 mile services (points, timing, carbs, plugs, oil, etc) but I reluctantly put the effort in to keep the bike from ending up as a complete wreck.
Despite this, with 79000 miles on the clock the engine locked up solid. I was screaming along at 65mph at the time. By the time I hit on the clutch, the back tyre was shredded and the lurid wobble had a salutary effect on my bowels. When I staggered off the bike I felt right out of it...had to drop my pants and a load in the bushes and then threw up at the other end! I was close to passing out for a minute or two!
By the time I'd got my act back together the engine had cooled and freed up, started third kick. The rattles were even more pronounced than normal but performance appeared okay. It was due for a fresh tune-up, anyway. It seemed like a strong hint that I should sell the bike before it died or killed me!
Its sad state reflected in its price - £750. Even this cheap and cheerful offer was largely ignored. The only offer I had was £400, from an expert on the breed who turned up on a GT550. So it went for that. I wasn't sad to see the back of it, relieved more like it. I can't think of any element of the bike that really stands out from the mediocre whole. A miss, I think!
Frank Skinner