The RD was one of those bikes that was handed on between mates, never achieving a role as a main machine but being a useful stand-in when something went wrong with the number one motorcycle or serving as a stop-gap between machines. The reason it never achieved a staring role was that it was an ex-racer fast going towards rat status.
I'd just sold my CBR600 and was waiting for a good CBR900 to turn up, so bunged the RD350's owner a few hundred quid. For reasons beyond comprehension he'd fitted a stock exhaust and proper handlebars, which made the bike much more civilised but somewhat took the fun away from screaming around on an old stroker. It still had a heavy dose of power at five grand, so much so that the worn out suspension produced a mighty wobble as the front wheel went all light.
By combining max revs with some clutch abuse the bike would wheelie very nicely, threatening to loop the loop. Experimenting with the wheelie potential through a crowded city center isn't exactly recommended. Especially not when it all goes wrong and the front wheel lands on the wing of one of those expensive Jag's. I picked both myself and the machine up, did a running start and disappeared through the traffic before the Jag owner could vent his anger.
An interesting trick I soon perfected was to aviate the front wheel up on to the back of a car and then motor over its roof! There was loads of clanging as the undercarriage and car body interfaced in a carnage dance but the bike always won out! The numberplate was so battered that there was no way anyone could read it - not that it really mattered, the last time the bike was registered was in 1992! I always took a different route to work to make sure no-one was waiting for me.
The bike wasn't much cop out of town. I suspect the frame was a bit bent because it went all wobbly as soon as a bit of speed was indulged. Not that stock RD350LC's ever felt glued to the road. But this was a whole different ballgame, with the bars twitching in my hands and the back end squirming all over the shop. The suspension was shot as well, which didn't help.
The only good thing about the front end was a rebuilt brake that would shake the forks and squeal the tyre. Unfortunately, the bike didn't want to pull up in a straight line, veered all over the road with a mind of its own. On the overrun, the engine popped away like a machine gun but didn't help slow the bike down.
It took four weeks to find a CBR900, then winter was starting so I thought I'd give the RD a go and keep the CBR for the odd sunny day until spring. Had to be very careful in the wet, too much throttle had the back wheel going into a massive slide that threatened to batter the bike into the side of innocent cars. Fun enough in its destructive way, metal fatigue was running so strongly through the chassis that any untoward violence would probably have broken it up.
Didn't stop me doing the daily commute, more or less mastering the wee beastie to the extent that on dry roads I usually maxed the engine out. Don't know what it needed but all it got was fresh oil in the tank and one spark plug chop when it refused to start.
Didn't complain until one very cold January morning when I was late for work. The engine was revved through the gears until the whole chassis buzzed with the vibes. I had begun to wonder if the main bearings were starting to knock, confirmed when the engine seized up solid. Before I could operate the clutch lever, the bike had gone into a massive wobble/skid that snaked the RD into the side of a bus.
The bike's revenge was to land on top of me. Amazingly, I managed to throw the thing off but not before I was covered in oil, petrol and battery acid! I was helped along in this act of desperation because the headstock had snapped off so it wasn't the whole bike trying to merge me with the tarmac. I was still bruised and bloodied, took some consolation in the complete wreckage that lay before my disbelieving eyes!
Just about all my friends had at some time put a leg over the RD350, so it was a good excuse for a massive piss up to mourn its passing. The next day I fell off the CBR900 and did about a grand and a half's worth of damage! A bad week!
Pete Bowles