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Big is good. Bigger is better. That's how I saw trading in my ever reliable GS550 for the GS1000. The dealer gave me a good trade-in price and I thought it the best 500 notes I'd ever spent. A 1982 model with 17000 miles on the clock and just one previous owner in the logbook. She looked quite perfect, sounded good and went like a real rocket-ship, especially after the bland old GS550.
The GS1000 was quite easy to ride. There was so much torque at low revs that it was just a case of putting it into a suitable gear and using the throttle. Just running between 2000 and 5000 revs was all that was needed to burn off the vast majority of traffic, the GS burbling away out of the Motad 4-1, which looked new (about right as GS exhausts rarely last for more than five years, especially if the bike's used in town a lot).
Hitting 5000 revs changed the whole nature of the beast, with thunderous, tyre churning power coming in and the tacho needle trying to flip off the end of the scale. I had to work the gear lever like a maniac to keep up and it was dead easy to become totally distracted by the acceleration, only realising the bike was about to run off the road, or head for a non-existent gap, at the last possible moment.
The previous owner had obviously experienced the same sensation, having uprated the triple discs with Goodridge hose. They need a firm hand and foot, but repaid that with scorching power and good feedback. The GS weighs 525lbs, didn't take too happily to the sudden change in momentum that resulted, came on a bit like a rocking horse.
The forks would also flutter a bit, but this was down to slightly loose taper roller steering head bearings - very nasty items as they were extremely sensitive to the tightness of the steering head spindle. A touch too tight caused the bike to go into some disturbing low speed tank-slappers, a touch too loose caused rattling under braking and a vague feel. After five attempts I got the tightness perfect, a chore I had to repeat every five to six weeks.
The front forks were air-assisted, a useful feature as they could be set up to suit my riding style. The air valves on each leg had been linked together, which made it easy to set-up. Stock, they were a real pain to balance. In town I favoured 10psi, which gave sufficient softness to absorb most bumps. Hard riding needed 20psi to remove the shakes coming out of the faster bends.
In the first couple of months I had great fun getting used to the bike. Ridden mildly it was a breeze, the extra mass not really making it any slower turning than the old GS550. But using that throttle and the full range of performance kept getting me into big trouble. Put it this way, it only took me 3000 miles to put the almost new front brake pads down to the metal.
The GS1000 wasn't such a safe handling bike as the 550, not taking so kindly to having the throttle backed off or the brakes hit when banked over in fast corners. Accelerating hard out of bends would send the front end skittering off towards the white line, the wheel threatening to slide away as soon as it touched the road markings. It took me about three months of practice before I had perfected the necessary point and squirt technique.
The bike came with Metzs, which normally gripped well and lasted 5500 and 9500 miles back and front. Once they were down to 2mm they became very skittish over white lines, cats-eyes and manhole covers. The bike took on a passing resemblance in stability to an old Francis Barnet I'd been forced to use in my impoverished youth. After talking to a couple of other GS owners, I became aware that any mismatch of tyres would turn the beast into a suicide ride and that, yes, Metz's were the best choice of rubber. So, I stayed with them.
Another item that caused concern was the short-lived swinging arm bearings. More than anything else, the weight, power and the sheer brutality of the beast seemed to concentrate at this point. The slightest bit of wear was soon amplified, wear increasing at an exponential rate. I used to take the spindle out at every 2000 mile oil change, but still the bearings wouldn't last for more than 6000 miles. The slightest bit of wear really upset the handling, leading to excessive wobbles every time I tried to go above 50mph.
The GS had Street Stroker shocks which helped keep the back end in line, the standard items reputed to be a bit toy-town. The ride was a touch on the firm side, although the saddle was good until it started seeping up water. I soon grew tired of looking like I'd pissed myself even on dry days, fixed it with a seat cover. It looked less than brilliant and allowed me to slide about a bit too much, but that was a small price to pay.
Further down the line, with about 50,000 miles on the clock (can't be too accurate as speedo cables keep breaking), the front mudguard started to break up. I'd wondered what had happened to the front end, as it was sliding, wobbling, under duress much more easily than previously. I'd thought it was the fork wearing out but it turned out to be just the lack of bracing offered by the decrepit mudguard. A new plastic mudguard and fork-brace revived its former, er, prowess.
Reliability of these bikes is good, if given regular 2000 miles services. The only real weak spot is the clutch which reacts to wheelies by breaking, but survives if a light touch is maintained. The other area of note is the electrical system burning out. It happened to me, the once, at 38000 miles. The first symptom was the mysterious blowing of fuses. I thought I was being clever putting a 30 amp fuse in, but that just delayed and exacerbated the complete burning out of the charging side of the circuit.
I ended up having to charge the battery every night, which was fine for the ten mile commute every day but not much cop for any serious riding. Eventually, I had the alternator rewound and fitted Superdream rectifier/regulator along with a few yards of new wiring. There are various theories about the electrical demise, from too hot oil to naff insulation allowing wires to short out. Suffice to say, anyone buying any of the GS series should give the electrics a good look over, as all kind of bodges were used.
Another sign of old age came at 57000 miles, with the petrol tank depositing two gallons of fuel over the mill. I was going along at 40mph at the time, suddenly had huge flames leaping off the engine, threatening to engulf both myself and the bike. Rather than leaping off at 40mph, I hit the throttle, forcing the last of the fuel in the carbs into the stuttering engine until we whacked up to 70mph. The dissipation of the fuel and the excess wind put the fire out but not until one last flame tried to singe my eyebrows.
The whole bottom half of the tank had fallen out. Apart from some tubes and wiring, miraculously, most of the damage was confined to the petrol tank. The AA man reckoned that I'd had a close escape.
I didn't have to use the recovery services when the camchain started rattling at 69000 miles. It's possible to bodge the automatic tensioner so that it exerts a bit of extra pressure. Not a long term solution but it was sufficient to get me the 125 miles home. Both the camchain and tensioner needed replacing (the latter because of the bodge?) but I bought a split link job and did the work myself.
The rest of the engine has been remarkably reliable with valves that don't need to be touched for tens of thousands of miles. There's still no sign, with 78000 miles done, of any smoke out of the exhaust and the motor is remarkably quiet for such a mileage. They regularly go around the clock without too much attention, but watch out for heavily tuned motors that throw their rods.....it's got such a nice blend of characteristics that this really is one engine that's best left in standard tune.
They were last made in in '83, which means over a decade's worth of abuse under their wheels. They were frequently employed as tourers so there's some hope of finding mildly used examples rather than some of the abused ones I've seen loitering in dealers. They are still useful, even against modern machines - I had great fun burning off a fat bum on a 1100 Zephyr and even put some replica riders' noses out of joint by taking rather wide lines through bends; they, poor chaps, left in a frenzy of left foot action trying to find their power bands whilst I just growled by in fourth gear. I just love the old Suzuki, they don't make them meaty like this, any more.
Gary Price
Return to Contents for GS Fours
When the guy pulled the '81 Suzuki GS850GT out of the garage I smiled in relief. I'd learnt not to believe anything I was told over the phone. This one, despite being ten years old, had only 8000 miles on the clock; looked as good as new. Even before I heard the motor I thought I'd have it. The test ride did nothing to dissuade me. One thousand notes poorer I was ready to take the world on.
Apparently, the way to get reasonable insurance for such a big bike is to obscure the cc markings on the engine and put 550cc transfers on the panels......Not that I would do a thing like that! Just joking, officer. Nope, I ended up paying out for third party insurance being but 22 years old and living in London. A couple of hidden theft deterrents along with two shackle locks would take care of the thief problem.
The GS850 is popular in the UK, although mine was imported from the Continent. Mine, judging from much modified electrics, had spent much of its time languishing in the garage from charging problems. I was assured that this was a thing of the past but didn't go far from home in the early days just in case I was going to be stranded miles from nowhere with a dead battery. I knew that there were plenty of 850s in breakers and that an electrical rebuild could be done at reasonable cost.
Assured that the electrics were indeed charging, I began to go further afield. The GS had one of those sensible riding positions that allowed me to whizz around town without much effort and also hold 90mph for a couple of hours. As my previous bike was a rat GSXR 750 this came as a massive culture shock. The GS felt very remote by comparison, giving sod all feedback from the ancient Pirellis but it was such a relaxing ride that I soon adapted.
Where the GSXR had been fast and twitchy, prone to monstrous wobbles if I didn't pay attention in bends, the GS was slow and ponderous, a carthorse to the GSXR's lean hurdler. The long wheelbase and 545lbs combined with the kind of conservative geometry that wouldn't have been out of place in a sixties Norton (which got its fast turning from low mass) resulted in a radical reappraisal of cornering angles and speeds. The GS would get around in the end but 10 to 30mph slower and with a lot more muscle expended.
However much these old retros are admired, their dated design can't be ignored or easily updated. To make matters much worse the rear shocks were original equipment that had lost any kind of damping. The back end shook so much over bumpy going that I was often thrown out of the seat, my spine taking a real pounding. No problem, I naively thought, heading for the nearest breakers. Having dissuaded the breaker that I was going to sell the bike to him for £200, and dodged a mangy Dobberman, I found a pair of suitable shocks only to be told that they were a hundred quid the pair.
I ended up buying a new pair of Marzocchi shocks and wasting half a day having rabies and tetanus shots after the breaker had let the dog loose when I'd foolishly laughed at his offer. I'm not complaining, mind, as I've now got a nurse for a girl friend. Up yours mate!
The joy at a firm rear end lasted no more than a fortnight as the previous oscillations had traumatized the swinging arm bearings. Or maybe it was just the complete absence of grease. Needless to say, the spindle was only removed after sufficient hammer force was applied to leave it, er, banana shaped. This time I found a friendly breaker who sold me a nice one for a fiver.
It was whilst fiddling around with the back end that I decided to investigate a churning, rattling noise on the overrun. My mate reckoned it was the gearbox bearings wearing out but I found this unlikely with such a low mileage. The shaft drive had absolutely no oil. The drain plug stripped its thread after it was finally persuaded out. New oil improved the transmission no end after the plug was coated in Plastic Metal and force-fitted. I'd drilled a hole through the plug and fitted a small self-tapper to allow subsequent lube changes.
On one early morning ride to work a horrible whining noise came from the shaft drive area. The self-tapper had fallen out. I rode gently home, fitted a new one and filled up with old engine oil as that's all that was available. The whine has persisted to this day but a bit of Loctite on the screw seems to hold it in.
Such delays were an excuse to ride like a maniac through town. With the compulsory engine bars fitted, the GS proved a bit too wide for comfort on several occasions but I felt it would just sail right through, such was the impression of mass and momentum. Ahem! When the engine bar caught the side of someone's bumper it pulled it right off the front of the car, with the sound of tearing metal waking up the cager. Well, that's what third party insurance is for, innit? The car looked like a write off. A bit of Solvol took out the minor scratches on the bars and restored the still immaculate finish.
For a 850cc motor the state of tune is relatively mild, the small bit of backfiring out of the standard 4-2 not causing me any concern. The silencers still shone up brightly but by 16000 miles they had rusted through from the inside out. I thought the exhaust was becoming a bit loud, as evidenced by the way some louts in a plod Metro nearly killed some peds by doing an highly illegal U-turn in a failed attempt at pulling me over. They didn't even get close enough to read the numberplate! I found out the state of the silencers when doing the weekly polish - a finger was poked right through the paper thin metal. A small amount of sawing, hammering and filing allowed me to fit a nice pair of pattern Goldie megas. A beautiful noise with only the slightest of carburation incontinence at 4000 revs.
The next bit of hard work came with winter and the dreaded salt on the roads. Yep, seized up calipers. This is a constant moan against old Japs but in the GS850's favour they did strip down easily. Just as well as they needed attention every month until the spring. Pads lasted 8000 miles and the brakes never convinced me that they were safe in the wet, let alone on the occasional patch of black ice.
Few bikes remain stable in such conditions but what I didn't like about the GS, despite its large front wheel shod in a newish Metz by then, was that the front end would let loose with no warning whatsoever. One moment I'd be sitting there freezing my balls off, the next I'd be warmed up thanks to the friction and fear generated as I slid along the road.
The GS was amazingly tough. Churning up huge swathes of tarmac, bouncing off cars and sweeping down lines of pedestrians but eventually coming to rest with nothing more than a few scratches and dents. My body was less used to such abuse but proper gear, including strategically placed bits of body armour, meant I was more bruised than bloodied. It made damn sure I never became bored!
After the winter most of the alloy and chrome had deep layers of corrosion. The bike was beginning to look its age, not helped by a blown head gasket that made disgusting noises and let the oil pour out. I tightened down one head stud so violently that it stripped its thread! With 22000 miles on the clock I had to take the top end down. As well as a helicoil job and new gaskets, the camchain needed replacing. I found the motor a real bugger to work on having only previously done a decoke on an AR125. The manual became vague at important points - how the hell do you pull the cylinder block off when it's corroded into the crankcase? I wedged a tyre iron between cylinder fin and crankcase and jumped on it. It only moved after I'd broken two fins.
Not entirely confident in my engineering abilities, I only rode the bike gently. It seemed to whirr away reliably for the next four months and 3000 miles. Fuel improved from 40 to 45mpg but I never felt it was a bike I'd like to keep for years and years. I was quite happy, even relieved, to off-load the GS for £750.
The GS850 feels very dated and isn't exceptionally reliable. Its shaft drive is nice, of course, but the weight makes it a bit of a pig in town and the consumable wear limits its appeal as a long distance tourer. I bought a Kawasaki GT550 as a replacement, which works better than the Suzuki in every way. If I wanted a cheap hack at around £500 I might be tempted by a GS850 but if I had to spend more I'd go for something else.
Julian Reynolds
Return to Contents for GS Fours
Boom, boom, boom. The exhaust note of the straight-through silencer bounced out into the neon lit street as the 80,000 mile GS850 engine tried to catch. I was always surprised, as I headed off for the night-shift each time, that no-one called the police. Perhaps they did and by the time they turned up I was well on my way. I was still living with my parents who had toiled all their lives to make it into middleclass suburbia.
The motor finally roared into life just before the battery was about to give up....the electrical system had always been precarious, given half a chance trying to turn the Suzuki into a raging conflagration. There was little left that was standard - Superdream regulator/rectifier, rewound alternator, car headlight, indicators off a GS450 and lots of bodged wiring. Batteries lasted little more than six months but at least I'd gutted out the space under the seat to enable me to fit a small, cheap car battery.
I rode up the street, playing loony tunes on the pipe, slightly surprised that the gearbox was, as ever, slick, although some slackness in the still untouched shaft drive would cause the back end to lurch around in corners if I wasn't careful with the downchanges. The GS was a big bugger which reacted to having the back wheel step out a few inches by throwing the rider off the bike. Don't ask me how I know.
General handling was passable if you knew how to master the beast. Brute force is the answer to most of the Suzuki's inclinations towards running off the road. That and a newish set of Metzelers. Wide bars give a good chance of winning in the inevitable wrestling matches that result from fast riding. A cut and thrust technique through the bends irons out the worst of the wobbling and avoids the exhaust and stands digging big holes out of the tarmac; also results in bulging forearms. But you need to start out strong.
Not that the old slug puts out a crazed amount of power, despite the loud exhaust and dumped the airfilter. No, top speed is not much more than 100mph (new ones might just crack 125mph), though to be fair there's enough torque to run from 25mph up to the ton in fifth gear. A useful facility on long distance hauls when I've almost gone out of my head with sheer fatigue and the last thing I need to do is play around with a temperamental power output.
Just getting the 35 miles to work each day could be a fearsome prospect, with cagers trying to blind me with their headlamps on unlit country roads and hedgehogs careering across the tarmac. Upright, the GS has the bulk to splatter them and carry on regardless. Banked over was another matter, with the front wheel losing adhesion, trying to slide off the road. A vicious wrench on the bars was the remedy but both quick reflexes and big muscles were needed.
Main beam always had a tendency to blow, down to the fierce midrange secondary vibes that had started to intensify come 65000 miles. They usually went just as the road decided to turn sharply. The bike is built heavy and tough, if you can hang on to the bars it's possible to ride straight through hedges and the like with minimal damage. I've done more injury to myself pulling the heap back out; Suzuki omitted to fit a reverse gear to overcome its huge mass and dragging disc brakes. More's the pity.
The brakes were another problem area. Calipers seizing up every 5000 miles, which was about all the pads ever managed. The calipers seized up so badly that it was a major hassle to disassemble them. I kept a spare set so I could take my time over their renovation. When one of the threads in the forks started stripping I started swearing. Used a longer bolt with a nut on one end. Simple but effective. Other bolts and threads are susceptible to alloy rot.
The braking, when everything was set up perfectly, was good, but that happy state did not last for very long. The front brake soon felt very spongy, giving zilch feedback about what the brake was doing. The first I knew about the wheel locking up was the tyre screeching and the front wheel trying to slide off the road. Not one for weak hearts or those who want to live to collect their pensions.
The back disc's demise was more gradual, eventually fading away to nothing or locking on solid. The red hot disc lost some of its metallurgical qualities and subsequently started to crack up. Even the front discs would eventually go the same way. Whenever I visited any breakers I was always a very willing customer for brake bits and soon had a stock of parts.
My 1979 engine has not actually been torn apart except for a clutch job and alternator rewind. Consequently, a two-stroke layer of smoke is put down on the overrun and a slighter nostril assault in fast forward mode. The valves needing a regrind, I think, but I am resisting the urge to tear the head off. I just know all kinds of expensive nastiness will be revealed. Many GS850s have made it past 100,000 miles without a major strip. As it is, oil goes through the engine at 150mpp, not helped any by copious leaks from the cylinder head gasket and gearchange shaft seal.
The oil leakage does wonders for the quality of the Jap alloy, with almost miraculous anti-corrosive properties. This adds to the rat appearance, more a cunning anti-theft device than mere apathy and laziness on my part. Most of the chrome and paint has been replaced with matt black, in an attempt to confuse radar guns rather than an admittance of colour blindness.
The only girl I ever persuaded on the back lasted just a week - that was how long it took to wipe out her whole wardrobe. I told her the layer of oil and crud would keep off the water and make her warm in winter, but she didn't listen. Women! My own rotted leathers probably didn't help in the courting game.
Fuel is another expense, 35 to 40mpg. Long runs have become a bit dubious; in addition to the expense there's also the uncertainty as to when the bike will eventually fail. As tough as the GS series can be, the bigger engines do have a tendency to drop their exhaust valves. More than likely because no-one can be bothered checking the valves until the problem is all too obvious. My solution was to join the AA!
As mentioned, I have taken the 850 on some long runs. The seat was good for about 80 miles before I started shuffling around. 50 miles later I was happy to stop for fuel. The best cruising speed was 80mph, the handling was okay for motorways and the vibes tolerable. More than 300 miles of that kind of cruising caused all my muscles to seize up. Once, I was so far gone on the fatigue of a 600 mile in a day hustle that I rode straight past the turn-off for my house. My mind had shifted into a must keep going mode. It was only when I glanced at some familiar buildings that I knew I'd gone too far.
The GS is so physically big and heavy that it tends to sink into the mud at campsites. I once managed so much wheelspin that as well as digging a yard deep hole in the ground I covered about two dozen fellow bikers plus their frails, tents and bikes, in a deep layer of mud. They were not too amused, tying me between two Harleys, which were throbbing with power. They only let me go after the rope had gone taut and I'd pissed my pants. Told me not to come back unless it was on a Hog.
Fat chance of that on my paypacket. I really should be riding to work on a Honda step-thru rather than the GS, which goes through consumables in a thoroughly ridiculous manner (I've had back tyres last less than 4000 miles). I may indeed end up in such a sad state, the talk at work is of doing away with one shift due to the dreaded recession.
Still, if the motor does finally blow I can always spend my days resurrecting the bugger. I can just imagine how long it will take on the kind of money the dole will give out. Each time I leave work, I play havoc with the gravel, sending a huge plume over the directors' plush cars and then as soon as I hit the road, doing a huge wheelie with the horn blaring away. On the GS that takes a lot of nerve, lose a bit of balance and the thing will go into cartwheel mode. A fantastic feeling of freedom runs through me when I do this. It'll probably maim me for life or get me the sack. But I don't give a damn!
Phil
Return to Contents for GS Fours
The badly mangled front end of the 1978 Suzuki GS1000 suggested that the frame was a write-off as well. It was obviously a good bargaining point. The speedo read only 11,760 miles and the engine would still fire up and tick over as normal. We settled on four hundred notes with free delivery to my home thrown in.
There was a long list of parts to replace, but I had few qualms about fitting non-standard stuff. The GS was not a bike for which its suspension was famed. When a complete GSX1100 Katana front end turned up in MCN I was on the phone in an instant. It went on with only a minimal amount of hassle.
After removing the petrol tank for filling and respraying, I was relieved to find that none of the frame tubes were bent or kinked. This showed that the tubular trellis is a hefty piece of work if not a particularly pretty one in its welding. The exhaust down-pipes were crushed flat by the front wheel and were, anyway, very rusty, so a 4-1 from the breaker was whacked on - only after breaking off two of the bolts holding on the exhaust clamps. They were sawn off flush with the head, drilled and tapped to take smaller bolts.
It took about two weeks and £250 to put the Suzuki back on the road. It already had a set of Konis out back, so I was not too surprised to find that on my initial outing the ride was very firm and heavy. This was 1988 when 16" wheels were all the rage and GS1000s and the like were beginning to show their age. The tyres were Avons in reasonable shape, but they liked to follow every road marking and gave the Suzuki a rather vague feel.
The first couple of days were spent getting used to the machine, just hustling back and forth to work, through some pretty chaotic traffic where the GS was not at its best. On the positive side, the gearbox and clutch could not have been easier to use and minimal throttle produced quite vivid acceleration. It was just all the muscle needed to swerve around cars and operate the rather wooden brakes that was all too debilitating.
Come the weekend, it was off for a dose of high speed motorway riding with a bunch of similarly mounted mates. Top speed turned out to be a reasonable 140mph on the clock, which kept the GPz1100s in sight. A dose of the weaves and wobbles above 110mph threatened to chuck me off a few times, but I held my breath and nerve to good effect.
The Kawasakis could waltz around the GS in the fast bends, where my mount came close to throwing me off the road on several occasions when the suspension could not cope with the abrupt changes of direction and the 550lbs of metal. God knows how bad it was with the OE suspension!
The engine was a real charmer. With loads of low speed guts it could also churn up the back tyre if 10,000 revs were dialled in and the clutch dropped. The stomach lurching dose of acceleration never failed to bring a wide grin to my face, even if the whole chassis twitched away merrily until some semblance of sanity was reached with the change up to third gear.
Cruising speed turned out to be any rate of knots that I could keep my grip on the bars. The riding position, with the Kat's flatter bars, was not ideal for high speed work, pains in shoulders, arms and neck seeing to that. In town it was okay for about thirty minutes until my wrists stared to complain about the excess pressure. The footrests were stock, when I eventually fitted some rear-sets to match the bars, the bike became more comfortable.
Fuel worked out at 38mpg, but other consumables were more reasonable. Tyres did more than 10,000 miles, as did the chain and pads. Oil consumption under mild use was negligible but during a long, hard thrash worked out at about a pint every 125 miles, although there was no smoke out of the exhaust. Oil changes were done every 1250 miles.
The rest of the engine has proved almost invincible in 51000 miles of serious abuse. There are quite a lot of rattles at low revs, which is quite typical of the GS models, but they disappear when the motor is revved. The clutch needed new plates at 47,600 miles - what would have been a simple job made difficult by engine cover screws breaking off even when attacked with an impact-driver. After I carefully drilled out the remnants the threads were still usable.
The GS series is infamous for its electrical pyrotechnics but my GS didn't have any problems until about 58000 miles when the wiring started to rot. I assumed that it was either the rectifier or alternator that was causing the fuses to blow, spending hours checking them over. In fact, some of the insulation had turned rigid, fallen off, causing adjacent wires to short out. I ended up rewiring the whole bike wire by wire not wanting to fork out for a loom, with the added benefit that the front headlamp was discernibly brighter.
The chassis was almost as tough as the engine, although by the time I sold the bike, last year, the suspension was on its last legs, making the GS less than safe above 85mph. Caliper rot was the only major expense incurred, but even then they would go for about 15000 miles before needing attention, which compared to my mate's CBX750 was brilliant, as he had to replace the whole front brake at less mileage.
Before the suspension went off I had mostly mastered the handling quirks of the GS. A matter of muscle over mind for the most part and showing the bike who was master. I currently roar around the streets on a 750 Zephyr, a rather confusing bike as it's ever so bland after the GS, but looks much more butch than the Suzi, which could, in appearance, be called classic, if you're being kind, or insipid if you're telling the truth.
Memories of great rides with my friends on similar high speed relics from the late seventies stay most strongly in my mind. There's nothing quite like the sound of a gaggle of fours on cam with open pipes. The sheer force of our presence used to make the cagers shift out of our way in a most rewarding manner.
Less enjoyable were the times I fell off. A pack of us were involved in a pile-up, the lead bike hitting the back end of a swerving car. He was thrown off, the path of his motorcycle, as it slid along the road, taking out the next two riders who promptly came off, taking out the next bikers, who did the same trick until we were all sprawled along the road, nursing a dose of gravel rash whilst we rushed to pick up our fallen machines.
Luckily, damage was not serious to either bikes or riders. The cager had done a runner, probably just as well as we would have tied him between two of the bikes and torn him asunder! The other times I came off, the GS proved equally able to defend itself against the depreciations of its immature rider and the hardness of the road.
I wouldn't advise a novice 125 rider to buy one, too heavy and awkward. Nor would I touch something with more than 80,000 miles on the clock, having observed a friend's GS do a self-destruct act at 84000 miles, mostly down to the roller main bearings breaking up! They used to be popular race bikes so there are some dubious engines about, although mild tuning or big-bores kits do not significantly weaken the motor.
I sold mine with enough mileage left in the engine to ensure that the owner didn't come back ready to beat me into pulp. I felt I'd had the best the GS had to offer, that if I still wanted to ride hard I'd be in for some very serious expense. I'd certainly be happy to buy another one if it were of a low mileage, but good GS1000s are much more the exception than the rule.
H.N.M.
Return to Contents for GS Fours
After three false trails - one bike had indications of light damage that could've been serious; another with knocking main bearings that drowned out the exhaust; the third an obvious DR hack with its tank and panel paint worn down to the metal - I found what I'd thought was a suitable machine.
A 22000 mile, three year old 1987 model. My euphoria dissipated when I realised that the name in the registration document wasn't the same as the vendor's, who bore a passing resemblance to Arthur Daley on one of his bad days. These kind of people seem to infest the used motorcycle scene, consuming hours of my precious time in wasted journeys as they lie like a politician over the phone.
But after half an hour's test riding I'd decided that all was well and at £900 it was too good a deal to miss. The engine purred nicely, the chassis held things in line and the bike felt like a good 'un I'd seen rat GS850's on offer at the same price. After a while you get a feel for a machine. However I was still dubious about the vendor and wondered if I was doing the right thing. His parting, shark-like, grin gave me the willies.
I wanted something with a shaft drive, good cruising ability and large dimensions to suit my own excesses. There were a couple of alternatives to the GT, but around the grand mark they didn't have much life left in them. I'd tried an XJ900, GT750 and even an immaculate XS850 but none really impressed on first acquaintance. By a process of elimination the worthiness of the GT had won out.
On closer examination over the next few days I pieced together what must've happened to the GS850. The electrical system was much modified, the alternator's cover screws mangled and a whole stack of wiring replaced with unmarked black wires that would be a horror story to put back together if it ever fell apart. The battery looked new, confirming that the old girl had a complete electrical burn-out in the hands of the first owner and had been fixed by the second, who was probably some kind of back lane creature. I hoped he knew what he was doing and the replacements were to a better standard than stock.
Although I was big enough to go back and thump him if things went wrong, the first couple of months were a bit edgy as I expected some major problems. Soon, though, we were old friends who were getting on well. If the GS was a big old-fashioned style of cycle it was well matched to my own 200lbs of meat. Wimps might have trouble handling the GT, but I could fling it around without feeling that I was forcing a workout on myself.
I did find the front brake a bit weak, needed a hell of a lot of muscle to make it squeal the tyre. There was more mushiness than feedback, so its lack of power wasn't that great a disaster. The rear brake had more of a steadying effect than a braking one. I had to do some high speed manoeuvres, to avoid hitting cagers, that left the bike wobbling all over the shop.
One reason for a large bike was the 20 miles trip back and forth to work every day. This was commuting with a vengeance that included five miles of crowded motorway, eleven miles of even denser A-roads and the rest town work through completely stalled traffic. As I always left for work at the last moment, the GS was caned without mercy. 110mph on the motorway, up to 90mph on the A-roads and a sometimes terrifying blitz through town traffic.
You'd think that with all the cars stalled dead there wouldn't be much danger. Wrong! For a start, the cages arranged themselves so that a fluid route on a bike became impossible. I'm sure they did this deliberately just to spoil the day for any stray motorcyclists left on the road.
Manhandling the Suzuki up pavements and through a couple of right-hand turns, slowed me down to a pretty pathetic pace. At one point on the route I always seemed to meet this old guy on a step-thru, fag dangling out of his mouth looking ridiculous with an oversized open-face helmet on his head, who'd hustle through gaps I couldn't take and hammer off into the distance. Very embarrassing, I'm sure the peds were laughing at me.
I'd often tried to go berserk on the throttle and horn, burn the bugger off. Most times I'd end up heavy on the brakes and bars trying to avoid hitting some cage that was creeping forwards into my gap at about 1mph. I know some people who'd give the car a good kicking or attack it with the engine bars, but hadn't yet reached that level of brain death.
This was only slightly less amusing than the time a cage tried to do a U-turn across my brows as I was accelerating along a line of cars on one of the stretches of A-road. Horn and prayers had no effect. Brakes and wrenching on the bars, with enough body movement to impress a ballerina, had me way over on the wrong side of the road.
I don't know who had the greatest screaming fit, the oncoming cager or myself. I ended up going right over to the other side of the road, churning up the gravel as the back end swung from side to side. The horns took a long time to quiet down, as did my heart rate.
I don't normally ride like a nutter even when all the stalled cars blocking the road cause me to froth at the mouth. I've come off too many times in the past to want to repeat the experience - it hurts a lot.
Despite its mass I found the GS quite difficult to fall off, its steering geometry was so conservative that you'd have to do something very stupid to enjoy the tarmac rash syndrome. Even with stock suspension, that was quite useful at combating the ruined roads, there wasn't any hint of nastiness in the chassis.
The Suzuki suffered from typical problems with the breed, although electrical hassles were, thankfully, absent. The silencers blew, making a god-awful racket until a couple of universal cans were knocked on. The carburation didn't need any jetting changes, even when I had to revive the airfilter with a screwdriver. The calipers kept seizing up, allied with an astonishing rate of wear from both the pads and discs.
At least the shaft drive removed the usual worries over the drive chain, it didn't churn up the back wheel to any great extent. Some clunkiness was removed by doing an oil change. The gearchange was marvellous, slick and precise as any I've come across; the change worked faster than the engine revved. I could get used to such luxuries.
For some reason there are a lot of thrashed GS850GT's on offer. It's well worth hunting down one of the good examples. They are very competent bikes.
Mark Hale
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After nearly 6 months with the GS1000G I came out of the house one day to find that it wouldn't start. The electric start's solenoid didn't even click. Complete electrical failure. Delving into the fuse-box revealed a blown main fuse. Where did I put that nail? No, seriously, a spare fuse was found, inserted, and the ignition key turned back on. The idiot lights blinked at me, the starter growled and the beefy DOHC four cylinder motor blared into life.
Blared? The rotted through silencers were worse than straight-thru's because they also had big holes in their sides. An all too typical demise on this era of Suzukis. As was the electrical hassle. Which caught up with me three miles down the road. The fuse blew again. I hadn't been stupid enough to leave home without a few spares in my pocket. They got me the rest of the ten mile journey to work. Lunch time I bought a large supply from the nearby garage, twice the recommended ampage!
Coming out from the hard day's slog at the biscuit factory (I kid you not, these are tough times), I found that the fuse was intact but the battery dead. Most Japanese bikes won't run without a working battery (unlike those old British sods), the GS1000G no exception. Lock the bike up tight on the factory grounds, cart the battery home to the charger, come back in the morning. It took those two commutes on a series of buses to convince me that motorcycles were the only way to go.
Rule One when GS electrics go, always disconnect the battery when leaving the machine standing. Some short circuit in the alternator when one of its coils burnt out meant that the battery was discharging through the charging circuit when the ignition was switched off. Rule Two is to rewire the output from the alternator so that the coil that charged the battery when the lights were flicked on is now charging the battery when the ignition is switched on - a matter of swapping over a couple of alternator wires (refer to your wiring diagram in Haynes', as colours vary with models and years). Rule Three is to expect total electrical failure at any time once the electrics start going down - join the AA!
This went on for about a month, ending up with the charging circuit totally disconnected and the battery charged up overnight. Good for about a 100 miles as long as the lights and horn are ignored, though they will work long enough to convince any loitering cops that the bike's legal. Exchange alternators cost about fifty quid, a car rectifier and regulator about a tenner. It's a good idea to do a total rewire as well as I found the fifteen year old bike was beginning to shed insulation from its wires. This may well have been the original cause of the blowing fuses. Or not. When buying any Suzuki of this era expect the worst from the electrics, and you won't go far wrong.
The clock read 67000 miles when I bought the bike. I've added 18000 miles without doing much to the engine. Changed the oil every 2000 miles and the filter twice. I had one carb balancing session but it made absolutely no difference to the performance or smoothness. Clutch rattle at low revs is normal but this should disappear when the throttle's blipped - if it doesn't it's something far more serious, like the camchain going. There's only eight valves which hardly ever need any attention, though total neglect over 50,000 miles, say, might cause one of the exhaust valves to burn out - check for smoke out of the exhaust on the overrun as the first sign.
Engine life is mostly down to the type of owner and the degree to which the motor has been thrashed (and those oil changes are important). As the 1000G's the shaft drive version any serious thrashing is limited by the propensity of the chassis to throw serious miscreants right off the road. Under a civilized right hand the shaft drive barely intrudes and doesn't do any harm to the excellence of the gearchange's action - I've ridden modern Honda's that have had far inferior gearboxes. Wheelies do nasty things to the shaft's universal joints, a jerky transmission a sure sign that the bike's been maltreated in the past.
Even under such a regime of neglect it's very rare for an engine to last for less than 50,000 miles. The clutch and even the main bearings can go at this point. Usually, though, it's such a heavy, slow handling old dear that few people can bring themselves to inflict much harm on them - rather like taking a hammer to a favourite uncle just because he's getting on a bit. I expect mine to bounce through the 100,000 mile mark with few major problems and have a friend who's got his up to 140,000 miles. In today's throwaway society that's quite an achievement.
Minor problems, in contrast, abound. Disintegrating silencers are the most obvious eyesore - these weren't even the originals that came with the bike. Universal cans were eventually shoved on. No problems from the carburation, the engine so mildly tuned by modern standards that it was even able to accommodate the well rotted state of the old cans. It is worth hunting around for a pair of replacement silencers that are the same length as the originals, so as to not upset the exhaust tuning. I've always thought that a loud exhaust system adds a good degree of safety to the ride, especially in town where both cagers and ped's seem to live in a different world to the rest of us. Seems to work.
Just as well that many are warned of my approach as the aged disc brakes out front are not up to much, these days. They find it hard going to arrest the progress of the excessive bulk of the bike and I. I've experienced worse - an XS750 triple, for one - but modern traffic warfare does give pause for thought. The discs are okay, they don't go thin or warp, it's the calipers that go a bit sticky with winter riding and don't really provide much feel or stopping power. EBC pads last for over 10,000 miles and make the best of the brakes.
Alloy rot's so bad that I ended up taking off the engine cases for bead-blasting. The Japanese evidently consider the engine a sealed unit, the only way the covers were removed was with the good old hammer and chisel routine on the screws. Rather than actually coming undone, some of the screws bent, others broke off (a similar disaster is waiting to happen if you remove the down-pipes, the collets' screws heat-welded into the cylinder head - best leave well alone). An allen screw kit saved the day. I also had the wheels bead-blasted. Now it just takes lots of elbow grease to keep the bike's sheen. Paint was of a remarkably good quality, only fading where petrol spilled around the tank's cap. Chassis bearings last around 25000 miles, but tend to go at the same time, best to replace the whole lot in one go.
Despite being a huge old thing it's not that expensive to run. 50mpg, 8000 miles from a set of Avons and hardly any maintenance expenses. It runs best at 60 to 100mph in top gear, has good comfort, reasonable range and is able to do everything remarkably well. Yes, you need to get used to its weight and slow turning nature, but that's all part of its charm. Its quality shines through the more it's ridden.
Alec Earling
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Tom Mason said it was a good bike. He should know, he's wrecked more products of Nippon's consumerist boom than most balding hippies. Apart from some old hacks, I'd mainly ridden German and Italian heaps for distance and British junk for fun. So the idea of a GS1000 was only half appreciated. The deciding factor was his offer. If I ran it for the summer I could pay for it in August if I wanted it or give it back if I didn't. The ultimate test ride. I, er, accepted.
He brought the Suzuki down from its stable in April of '89. The start of the longest, hottest cliche of the century. It was a pristine T reg model with electronic everything, 37000 miles from new and had been well cared for by Riders of Yeovil among others.
A test blast around the Ilchester bypass definitely did not show 85mph in third, 115mph in fourth and 130mph in top without going anywhere near the redline, officer. Contrary to the rumours in the back of the UMG vibes were not significant and the braced forks gave sterling service. Her indoors liked the size of the pillion seat and the flame red colour, so we were away.
I used it to do some minor commuting to start with. It was utterly reliable, although straight away I found some foibles. The mirrors gave elbow coverage only and the dip-switch could easily be confused with the main light-switch.
This was most amusing blasting down a Dorset lane to Piddletrenthide. Oncoming Landrover flashes at me, I dip but out go all the lights. I stop on the verge, swear profusely as Farmer Giles blunders on probably hoping he'd culled another Angel. If it was mine, I would swap those switches for some more modern gear.
After a month, I found myself on more adventurous work, up to 700 miles a week. To save money I dropped over to unleaded fuel. This is where the twist in the machine comes, it's as thirsty as a bloody car. The best I ever got out of it on shorter commutes was 39mpg. That was after a full vacuum carb balance and replacing plugs and jets to standard. Okay, I'm not exactly slow but even my BMW RS and 900SS managed 45 to 50mpg average.
The effect of the change in fuel and riding route was to bring fuel consumption up to a half decent 45mpg. I did feel a loss of power, particularly midrange, but it was only a slight delay. With something like 90hp on tap it wasn't crucial. With unleaded it still pulled to 130mph and was hard to beat on the streets.
I did think I'd blown it, though. Setting off from Plymouth to Gosport one afternoon in May, I found that I could only get 90mph out of the beastie. After 30 miles I decided to investigate and found only three pots were firing, so it wasn't a bad 750 triple if it could go that fast, was my first reaction rapidly followed by, shit I must have holed a piston using unleaded fuel.
I swapped plugs and the problem switched cylinders. For the first time in 15 years I found a genuine fault I could blame on the plugs. The Exeter services came up with a new 'un for £1.30 and I was on my way.
Despite the Suzuki's new found frugality, I reckoned to have to refuel every 150 miles. The tank looks huge, but it contains some weird pressings which eat up capacity. As my usual trip was 170 miles this seems to add a quarter of an hour to the just over two hours it took on my RS. As a tourer it wasn't bad but its natural place was definitely the traffic light GP.
London work for a few weeks in June definitely proved this. The GS loved to sit purring away waiting for the amber. A quick check for the light jumpers and then dial on 6000 revs, drop clutch and scream away, front wheel aloft. One shift up saw sixty in not a lot of time and the rest of the traffic way behind. It was so enjoyable that I found myself doing it at every available opportunity. There was occasional opposition from the likes of GPZ900s but cars had no chance.
Then, curiously, around this time I started to get a bit of rattle from the clutch basket. I explained to Tom that I had been using the bike for boring commuting so he told me it was probably the carbs out of balance and he'd do them in August. I said little but did resolve to ride a little more sympathetically.
Another fault was the starter motor relay. This first manifested its charms around the Buckfastleigh bit of the A38 at some speed when the engine simply stopped. Such anti-social behaviour caused considerable revision to my then rather committed overtaking status. I blundered my way to the soft shoulder, in some peril.
All the idiot lights were out and with the assistance of an allen key and a Laverda owner who stopped I deduced the main fuse had blown. The cause was not apparent but by switching the headlight fuse over I got home under Wop escort.
In Speedwell's mechanical parlour, the fault was traced to the death of the starter switch. The agents wanted thirty-something quid for a new one. Haynes' otherwise dreadful manual told me that there were no user serviceable parts inside. I took it to bits, inside is the most simple of switches you could imagine. The solder on one of the terminals had died. So out with the Halfords soldering set and ten minutes later it was fixed. This is, I later learnt, a common problem. If you are prepared to hack the wires about to fix it you can save loadsa dosh.
Towards the end of July, the rear tyre began to look bare. Much as I admire slicks, and with all the faith I had in the summer providing no rain, a trip to the best little tyre shop in the South West was in order. Gupa-P fitted an excellent Pirelli for £40 and the rear end lost its wallowing effect in corners.
Handling generally was average. It was not up to the standard I was used to, care of Messrs Moto Guzzi, but neither was it as wallowing as say an R80 BMW. For its time, I reckon it was a good bike. By the standards of the late eighties, way behind but acceptable for town blasting and moderately enthusiastic use around A roads.
Some people have tried to tell me it's a classic. What a load of bollocks. It is a virtuous machine that is in all respects better than a seventies Triumph, I agree. It has a bulletproof motor that put on 10,000 miles for me without hassle. It even looks fairly aggressive and right. But classic? Don't make me laugh.
For that you've got to have character and performance, quality of all round construction and design. Give me a Ducati or Guzzi of the same vintage and there's no comparison.
So come August, I took it back to Tom. Don't you like it, he asked. Sure, I said, it was good fun for the summer. But like a bird you pick up on the Costa Wotsit it wasn't something I'd want to wake up next to every day. Tom has since sold the GS to a mutual friend, I hear. So far there have been no problems and nor do I expect any.
Perhaps the best thing about the bike was its blastability. The most accurate memory is the lack of regret that it no longer sits outside Chateau Speedwell. It just goes to disprove the old theory that the best things in life are free.
Harry Speedwell
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I'm not a brave man. So purchase of the GS1000S was all a little bit mad. Big, brutal and beefy it was the kind of bike some twenty stone lout might fall for. Yours truly was the proverbial eight stone weakling who assiduously avoided beaches or anywhere else I might have to take my clothes off. However, I was obsessed with motorcycles and fancied a bit of a challenge.
Also, the GS1000S had only done 13000 miles and looked like new, despite five owners over the years. It was an odd bike to sit on. All that top heavy weight with me perched atop it like a flea on an elephant. Elderly neighbours wobbled out to make the emphatic point that it was too big for me! Bloody suburbia! I blipped the throttle, blew their hearing aids away. Laugh? I nearly fell off.
It wasn't that bad once under way. Not until I touched the front brake lever. Vicious twin discs that squealed the front tyre when I sneezed too heavily! These took some getting used to. By the way, my last bike was a much underrated Suzuki GS500E, so the difference in feel and character was huge! The GS1000 had gobs of low rev power, didn't need much work on the slick gearbox. All I had to contend with, really, was the heavy steering and suicidal braking.
That was until I came to a stop on a bit of a camber. Putting the sidestand down would've left the bike tilting over towards the horizon. What I had to do was climb off and haul the bike on to the centrestand. This would have made a good comedy sketch, as the bike was reluctant to go up on the stand. I had to put all my weight on the prong whilst holding on to the grabrail with one foot perilously resting on the camber.
Get it dead right and she shoots up on to the stand with a bang. Get it wrong and the whole lots falls over on top of you. Somehow, I always got it right but it hammered my spine a couple of times. Before buying, check out to see if you can handle it or not. This is a minor but very important point,
The weight also caught me out when parking up. I nonchalantly rode into a slot, not thinking much about it. Until I came to pull it out. There wasn't enough room to paddle it backwards, needing to bend it every which way to avoid nearby mirrors and indicators. It was a pig to push a couple of yards, 550lbs combined with dragging discs and flapping chain. In this mood of disenchantment I managed to go sideways into an MZ 301. I almost broke my leg stopping it going all the way. The poor old MZ fell off its stand and then landed on a scooter, which fell with an alarming crash. By then I'd hauled the GS out of the space and got out of there fast. Always reverse into parking spaces!
So the first month was pretty traumatic. A steep learning curve. Some good things. The time I put 150mph on the clock, flat out on the tank and almost shaking with fear. The road was smooth and the bike was remarkable in its stability, the weight finally doing some good. Acceleration from 90 to 130mph in top gear was the kind of stuff to cause a nose bleed and premature ejaculation in the unwary. And it had presence!
Whenever I parked up, someone came and talked to me. Even young women were taken by it, a CG125 owning girl insisting I give her a lift. I almost had an out of body experience when she clamped herself around me and screamed speed, speed, speed into my helmet. Alas, I dropped her off in the shopping centre and never saw her again. It don't half make you go mad on the throttle. The sheer grunt of the GS giving the impression of great competence on my part.
In a straight line I had no problem keeping up with my mates, on diverse machinery - from a ZXR600 to an XS1100. Whilst the replica riders worked furiously on their gearboxes I just smacked the throttle open and ruled the roads. The XS might've had even more grunt but it was in quite a bad way, putting out so many vibes that it could've made it as a portable slimming machine!
The corners were another matter. The suspension was stock! Gulp! We all know what that means, don't we? Especially when allied with all that mass. At first I was reluctant to lean over more than a few degrees. As I pressed the bike harder, not wanting to be back-ended or thrown off the road, I went over further and further. It took a lot to convince me that the massive downward vector of its weight wasn't going to let loose and pitch me off. Coward!
The bike could be taken way over on smooth roads, until the undercarriage began to take bits out of the tarmac. It was the bumpy roads that were really frightening! Oh, that suspension was crap! The damping just couldn't cope and it took very little to have the heavyweight champion all over the place. Put it this way, on a bumpy curve all my mates stayed well back, gasping in wonder at the sight of the buckling brute.
It was this impression that stayed in my mind, of being aboard a wild buffalo, barely in control and courting death with every passing second. I tried using the throttle to pull her round the bend but this was more likely to alter the trajectory so that we hit oncoming cars or had an intimate chat with a hedge or stone wall on the other side of the road. I was often close to shitting myself, and when we pulled up for fuel my hands were shaking.
They also shook from the secondary vibes when we were pushing our bikes to the limit. It wasn't immediately obvious, a quick blast giving an initial impression of smoothness. The vibes were subtle but there nevertheless, attacking my digits after about 45 minutes. If I stayed at the controls for more than an hour my fingers began to go numb, unable to operate the somewhat fidgety switches.
Which, I guess, brings us to the electrics. As far as I can tell, mine were all stock. With 18000 miles on the clock, sure enough, the battery started discharging overnight and the fuses would blow just as I was in a desperate overtaking manoeuvre. One of the coils was burnt out and the rectifier was dying. Rewound alternator, car rectifier and regulator sorted it out. I didn't want to end up with the electronic ignition and battery blowing up. The rewind cost fifty quid and the car components a tenner the pair. As long as you can follow a circuit diagram it's an easy enough job. Much better than suffering malfunctioning electrics which can cut out the motor at any time.
Having fixed that I then had problems with the middle carbs leaking fuel. Meaning I had to take the whole lot off. The airfilter was full of crud, another expense. The carbs were full of a strange white deposit. I'd been using unleaded petrol which might have contributed to the gunge which was so hard to remove I should have sold the formula to NASA for a space craft coating, or something.
I spent a hundred notes on a new set of carbs from a dealer who was having a clear out of old stock. What a difference they made. Lovely smooth running, easy starting and an improvement in fuel from 35 to 40mpg. Fuel was always heavy, hardly any improvement when ridden mildly, which encouraged me to use most of the available power.
The mileage piled up over the next seven months, 23,400 miles on the clock when I was collared by a dealer. I was minding my own business, just looking the new bikes over, like you do. They had a Honda 1100 Blackbird on demo. 'Have a go,' said he. 'We'll do you a good trade-in deal on the GS. You won't believe how they've improved.' He was right and I was parted with a large wedge plus the GS plus a mortgage sized bank loan. I made a £750 profit on the GS in the deal, though I could probably have bought the 1100 cheaper for cash.
I still look like a flea on an elephant but I'm a bloody fast one! The GS1000 was brilliant in its day but is a bit of a pig now. Tough, fast and interesting, though.
D.P.
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