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There's always a sinking feeling when a bike fails just 25 miles after purchase, especially when it's on the first ride. I was still 20 miles from my home. The swathe of plastic made the dead engine all the more difficult to suss. I didn't feel like pushing the 550lbs half a yard let alone the mile to the nearest town. I churned the engine over on the starter to no avail. Nothing for it but to phone the AA.
The engine had done all of 72000 miles in three years of abuse. Back in my garage, I discovered that all four of the plugs were heavily coated in carbon, looked like they had been there since the bike rolled out of the showroom. The oil was full of gunge and the filter looked like it was about to fall apart from corrosion. It was just as well that Suzuki had perfected the art of making ultra strong four cylinder engines.
Whilst the plastic was off I did a full service, was rewarded with an engine that came to life first click of the starter. Don't know if it was a feature of a new bike, but there was quite a buzz through the plastic even at low revs. I tried tightening up the mounting bolts but too much pressure started to crack the fairing. There was already a big crack running through one side where the previous owner had dropped it. He'd riveted a plate behind the plastic to stop it spreading. There wasn't a chance of anyone paying up for a replacement panel.
After a brief test ride to check that everything was fine, the GSX1100F was all set up for the commuting chores the following Monday. Using a bike of this size and power might be a bit excessive for trawling around the capital, but the excellent protection afforded by the fairing meant it was just what I needed for the winter.
Or it would've been had not the front discs seized up at the first hint of rain. They freed up again, but not until I'd nearly burnt out the clutch, using 8000 revs in first gear. Riding through London traffic using just the back brake and engine braking proved as interesting as trying to run away from a bunch of thieves with a broken ankle. I left work early to pick up a newer set of calipers from the breakers and fitted them overnight.
I thought that had fixed the beast. The front brake had stopped seizing up but was a bit on the vicious side, needing hardly any pressure at the lever to have the tyre squealing. Halfway to work the next day, the engine suddenly decides it doesn't like running between 2000 and 6000rpm. It wasn't difficult to discover the cause, the noise had alerted me. Great holes had appeared in the exhausts with the remnants of Gum-Gum testament to the bodge. I hadn't looked too closely as the MOT was new!
After struggling back and forth to work, with a strong smell of a burnt clutch my only thanks for my efforts, I had to tear off the plastic to see what I was doing. Whole sections of the exhaust were beyond help. It took a whole week to locate a GSXR 4-1 that the breaker assured me would fit. He must've had a cruel sense of humour, but after some cutting, welding and swearing it did indeed fit.
Engine running was interesting, with a lot of coughing when starting up, a sort of muted howl up to 6500rpm then the kind of terrifying racket that gets us bikers a bad name. At lower revs it was quite sweet running and whilst acceleration wouldn't give an FZR any problems it was more than sufficient for London traffic.
Two days without any problems made me think I had got the better of the machine. Then, doing a drag start away from the lights there was an horrendous crunching noise from the back end, a screeching tyre and my kneecaps suddenly trying to take chunks out of the tarmac. The rear shock had broken at its bottom mounting. On examination this was due to the spindle being seized in solidly, allowing untenable forces into the shock. As might be expected every bearing and spindle in the Full-Floater rear end needed replacing.
Two weeks later I was back on the road. It only took ten days for the next trauma to appear. Yes, the good old electrical malaise, with blowing fuses and a battery that needed to be recharged every night. On one memorable occasion, when my reactions and heart were tested to the full, the motor stopped dead just as I was cutting in front of the dreaded black taxi. I flipped the bike out of his path, but that didn't stop him jutting his head out and letting forth with a stream of invective. The rest of the cagers were not that amused, either. Putting in a 50 amp fuse helped for a while.
I replaced the regulator/rectifier, battery and fuse holder (which was starting to melt) only to find that the bike repeated the trick all over again a mere week later. Not until a used alternator was fitted did the electrics begin to behave themselves. At least the electronic ignition modules hadn't gone up in flames. The switches were so vague they were annoying but the front lamp was brilliant.
The general feeling of riding around on a rapidly ageing motorcycle was explained when the first owner approached me, expressing amazement that the GSX1100F was still running, as he'd already done over 120,000 miles in the first two years and sold it to a breaker because of the death rattles. So it looked like my bike had really done 172,000 miles!
This was confirmed when the other side of the fairing to the one that was already cracked split across its whole width. I did, admittedly end up wedged against a bus when it suddenly did a slow speed swerve, but the plastic does seem to have gone very brittle (the motorised screen had seized in its highest position, although I would've liked another six inches). Mixing in some GRP, resin and alloy sheet fixed it for all of four miles! Bits from a breaker turned up three days later but they were not cheap.
Belatedly checking the registration document revealed that the engine numbers didn't match. Thank god for that, I thought, at least there was some hope that the motor wasn't going to explode from an excess of miles. The only part that was worrying me was the clutch which had developed a bit of slip at high revs. It took another week for that to spread down to more sane engine revolutions. I had a happy time getting the engine case off, not to mention cracking up the fairing when I put it back on. A new set of clutch plates later and I was back into full time commuting.
That lasted for six weeks when I decided that the bike had settled down nicely and deserved a Sunday morning blast up to Birmingham and back again. It was one of those sunny but cold January mornings which could be mistaken for a summer's day inside a car but on a bike proceeded to freeze solid my feet and hands, despite all the plastic that was supposed to be protecting me.
Out of town I felt free to make with the throttle, the disgusting roar from the exhaust only likely to offend country yokels and dozy motorists. This was the first time I'd tried for some serious speed. 120mph before I decided that the way the chassis shook was more than enough of a warning to call it a day. The cold aside, the Suzuki was fine for cruising in the 90 to 100mph range with fuel no worse than in town, at around 35mpg.
Coming back from Brum, in a near comatose state, I was suddenly made aware of a rear tyre blow out at about 70mph. It felt like the back wheel had disintegrated and by the time I'd pulled off the road, the tyre was shredded to pieces and the wheel rim was dented beyond reconstruction. Some bikes are just unlucky and I reckon the GSX1100F was one such example. The AA man, when he turned up a mere ten minutes later (it could be a record), found it hard to believe that I'd survived the incident without a tarmac dosing.
It just goes to show that for all its mass, the Suzuki was generally easy to control even when the back tyre is falling apart. I could bore you to tears with tales of the times I've fallen off old hacks but take it as read; the GSX has inherently stable geometry and a light feel way ahead of some old seventies retro monster bike. That was absolutely no compensation for having to pay out for a used back wheel and tyre!
By the spring I was pretty fed up with the giant Suzuki. I felt the kind of money it was costing me to keep in one piece I'd be better off spending on taxi fares to get back and forth to work each day. I could see that under all the aged components there was a quite reasonable motorcycle trying to get out. The GSX looks pretty bland to most eyes, is heavy, hard on consumables and not so fast that it really gets the blood flowing. But the fairing is compellingly protective, the handling as easy as a bike half its size and used prices low enough to make them the bargain of the superbike class.
I'd paid £1750 for mine and was able to sell it for another £100, which in no way compensated for the amount I'd had to pay out. I'd been very unlucky to end up with such a rogue machine, those that haven't gone around the clock are likely to be much tougher beasts. I'd be quite happy to buy a low mileage one and would expect to obtain a couple of years trouble free riding.
Mark Longley
The CBR600 receives more adulation from the seasoned old hacks masquerading as motorcycling journos than any other contender in the 600cc bracket. True also that the GSX600F was on the receiving end of many a vitriolic attack from the press when it first arrived on these shores in 1988, but I needed a 600cc motorcycle and I don't believe everything I read in the press.
So, after a series of objective test rides I concluded that the FZR was uncomfortable and twitchy even if it did look the part. The GPX was fun to ride but was so badly made it looked like the half finished product of a reluctant YTS victim on a Friday afternoon. Okay, so the CBR is a good, nay even fine specimen of two wheeled technology but it's a Honda - nuff said (did I say objective tests....).
Excluding the now long in the tooth GPZ600 and XJ600, that left the GSX600F, a characterless little motorcycle that bears more than a passing resemblance to a Habitat Teapot - to paraphrase one of the aforementioned journos. Now, you have to be a bit unusual to buy a bike just because the others in its class aren't quite the ticket, so after locating a used example (marked up at £3195) at my local dealer's showroom - G reg, 3000 miles on the clock, no trace of tin-worm attack or obvious abuse (apparently used by a retired Cistercian monk who used it once a week to go to Sunday mass) - it seemed a fairly obvious step to test ride it.
I tested it out and bought it on the spot. Why? Because it does almost everything I want it to. Having said that, the next thing is to qualify that statement. I actually wanted a bike to use every day, firstly as functional transport, secondly as a tourer; and having done that it had to come up with the goods in moments of B road bravado. The GSX has so far catered for all these things without missing a beat - well alright it did blow three tail light bulbs before I located a dodgy earth at the bulb holder. A minor irritation, save that at the time it was a real pisser...
It starts on the button with the aid of the handlebar choke when cold, reaching operating temperature quickly. Although I would like to have seen an oil temperature gauge incorporated - the enormous fuel gauge could have been reduced to half its size. Sitting on the bike you notice just how comfortable is the wide, curvaceous seat. The pillion perch is a separate item and lofts the incumbent way above the pilot's head. If you're a passenger who likes to know what it is you're about to hit, this comes as a real bonus, as does the sturdy looking grabrail, big enough to take both gloved hands.
As a result of the high step between rider and pillion seat, you've got a ready made bumstop for those flat out runs down the motorway; with an indicated top speed of 145mph it comes in handy. Should you be thinking of foreign travel or long distance rides, I covered 400 miles in one particular day on a recent European tour, with luggage strapped to the flat topped pillion seat and did not suffer the aches, pains and square arse syndrome offered by other bikes after only a trip to the local off-licence.
The 4.4 gallon tank offers a range in excess of 200 miles, even with the worst return figure of 46mpg. The best consumption was 60mpg, whilst there's nearly a gallon of fuel in reserve, although the reserve switch is a bastard to turn if you've got your winter gloves on - Suzuki obviously didn't take into account a typical British winter when designing this little faux pas into the bike, although credit must go to the chap who designed the fairing. When it rains it actually keeps your legs relatively dry, as well as significantly reducing the strain of prolonged high speed riding.
The obvious disadvantage of the all-over tuppaware is having to take it off if you intend to carry out any maintenance. A pain in the proverbials if you want to change the plugs or generally fart around with the engine. Admittedly, there's not much to do as far as routine maintenance goes - the valves need checking every 4000 miles, oil and spin-on filter every 3000 miles, plugs at 8000 miles, the camchain tensioner is automatic, ignition is microprocessor controlled.
After a fairing off job, I was pleasantly surprised to find that all seven components slotted back into place without the need for any gentle persuasion, something that was sadly all too familiar on my previous bike (a FZ750) whose panels fitted like a rubber glove on a chicken's lips. The size and position of the oil filler hole requires sleigh of hand, great ingenuity and endless patience to actually put oil in the motor. Similarly, the cheap and nasty chain adjusters cause much frustration but, luckily, the chain hardly ever needs attention.
This is more that compensated by the ferocity of the brakes. Twin piston calipers at the pointy end and a single at the rear, biting into drilled discs offer all the sharpness and feel of a more track orientated machine. The rear pads were down to the metal just after 10,000 miles, although the fronts would go for about 12000 miles - strange as the front was much more used than the rear. The front brake lever is blessed with a span adjuster for riders with fingers of unusual length.
The clutch cable needed a good oiling when I picked the bike up. It now operates smoothly, enabling slick changes up and down the six speed gearbox, which has ratios perfectly matched to the power.
For those who like interfering with ancillaries, the suspension package consists of three position damping adjustment at the front using individual knobs sited on top of each fork leg. The single rear shock offers seven position pre-load and four damping variants. The pre-load is altered using a good old C spanner which requires much grovelling on the floor. The damping goes from soft to f..king hard and is adjusted by rotating a knurled dial at the top of the unit - which is only accessible by removing the left-hand side cover. I've found the front on position 2, the rear pre-load on 5 and damping on 3 to be the best compromise.
The original rear Japlop was fine until the tread pattern disappeared after 5000 miles and the subsequent Metz ME55 became slick after a similar distance. An Avon AM23 is currently shrouding the three spoke alloy at the arse end. The front Japlop survived an astonishing 9500 miles before assuming the identity of the elephant man's head with lots of strange troughs and peaks plus a nasty selection of gashes. This mutant state conspired to render the handling a bit unusual. It will be interesting to see if the replacement ME33 does the same.
The mirrors might score an award from the Disneyland School of Design resembling as they do a remarkable likeness to Mickey Mouse's ear, but for practicality they suck. Great if you want to study your arms and part of the gutter. The bungee hooks are thoughtfully mounted the wrong way round on the frame rail and two helmet locks are provided, so you can leave your prized Arai or Shoei and return a couple of hours later only to find some tramp has, in a dissipated alcoholic haze, mistaken it for a urinal and pissed in it.
Enough of this crap, what's it like to ride? Well, it handles as well as anything I've ridden before, except the precocious NS400R. At berserk speeds on bumpy roads it can get a little out of shape, but not seriously enough to scare. Where it really scores, though, is medium to fast pace, where everything stays in line, even if you're off line. The ease with which directional changes can be made is reassuring, dropping from vertical to peg scraping angles and back requires minimal effort - a result of the short wheelbase amongst other things. However, this also compromises straight line stability at high speed on less than perfect roads. Nothing too drastic, just a gentle reminder that you shouldn't take the piss.
It's a bike that requires a lot of throttle abuse and cog swapping to make it go, like all 600s, but the more you put in, the more you get out. The 12000rpm redline is attainable in all gears including top, with three power bands at 5000, 7000 and 9000 revs on the way. Not the intoxicating, neck snapping kick up the arse delivered by the RG500, but noticeable all the same. At 5000rpm an annoying patch of vibration manifests itself through the pegs and bars - since this equates to 60mph in top it is uncomfortable to be legal. Slightly rolling on or off the throttle makes it disappear.
Two up riding does take its toll and turns a rev happy mill into a wheezing asthmatic lump, again symptomatic of the 600 class. I'm never keen on going apeshit with a pillion, so who cares?
The DOHC four is rattly at tickover, perhaps down to its air and oil cooled nature, so anyone who suffers from paranoia would do well to note that it is supposed to be like that. How you tell when the camchain is shagged I do not know.
The bad news is that if the bike falls over and shatters the plastic the result is great expense (£850 in my case). Imagine the damage if it had been moving. Apart from its lack of crash resistance, a few silly design errors and no discernible character, the Suzuki is worth buying - smooth looking, cheap, reliable and comfortable sports touring machine. Just make sure you insure it fully comp.
Tom Alford
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You would think I was a mass murderer or something, the amount of abuse and derision I have to put up with. Yes, I know the GSX750F ain't the prettiest of bikes on the road and from certain angles is downright ugly but it's not that bad. Spotty Herberts on bloody mopeds and hard cases on race replicas all like to take the piss. If I had a quid for every time someone has come up to me and said, "What did you buy one of those for, mate," I'd be very rich. It's the way they say it that really gets me, like I was some mental retard.
To put the record straight, the GSX750F is a powerful, light and reasonable handling motorcycle. It uses a detuned version of the air and oil cooled GSXR750 engine, having lots more low down grunt but also coming on cam around seven grand like it means business. Ultimate power is down slightly from the GSXR, but with over a 100 horses at 10,500rpm there's no lack of high speed performance. Weighing only 430lbs means it's one of the lightest 750s around. Using a steel trellis wrap around style frame, the chassis is rigid, only let down by suspension that was surprisingly soft, the bike being six months and 5000 miles old when I acquired it.
Starting was a bit hit and miss. Sometimes the engine would purr into life, settling down to an even beat from the 4-2 exhaust, which was already showing signs of rust. Other times the engine would churn over, backfire and take ages to warm up. This strange phenomenon disappeared by the time I had put 8000 miles on the clock, it may have been down to some crud in the carbs that use had cleared out or a loose connection that had become firm. Who knows?
The clutch was light, the gearbox slick; the bike could be trickled off slowly in second or the clutch dropped with the tacho at the 12k redline in first. The latter resulted in a violent wheelie but the inherent stability of the chassis meant it was easy to control. On buying the machine I took great delight in terrorising the local pedestrians until I realised that it was wrecking the chain in short order. It wasn't the kind of bike that put its front wheel in the air when accelerating in the gears as too much weight was put on the front end for this kind of delinquent hooliganism.
The bike preferred more than 4000rpm up but would run smoothly below these revs and could hold 30mph in top gear, albeit with minimal acceleration. At the other end of the scale, about 145mph on the clock is possible when tucked down behind the plastic. Anywhere between 90 and 125mph can be held on motorways blasts until the petrol runs out. For fierce acceleration during acceleration I found fourth an excellent gear as long as you were doing more than 70mph, it often being necessary to drop down out of higher gears to find that extra bit of accelerative edge.
Power delivery was not instantaneous, there was a slight lag between whacking open the throttle, even in the lower gears, and actual acceleration. It lacked the distinct and sometimes frightening edge of the GSXR but I rather enjoyed its more friendly nature.
Two things spoilt the bike as a high speed tourer. An excessive amount of secondary vibes came through both the bars and footrests - someone at Suzuki had evidently forgotten that you are supposed to carefully match the frame dynamics to the engine type. This was most annoying, naturally, between 70 and 85mph or after 120mph when it became really fierce. I could tolerate it for about 100 miles, thereafter my fingers started going dead on me. I alleviated this to a great extent by fitting some thick rubber bar grips.
The second problem was the suspension. Even with the rear shock's damping and pre-load turned up high, it was still too soft and lacked control. A series of closely spaced bumps would upset it. The front forks were basic units that were again on the soft side. The funny thing was that although the rider would take quite a battering the bike itself was stable and even powering out of curves whilst hitting bumps did not turn it into a lurching beast. I never fell off the bike and was quite happy to try to get my knee down in most circumstances; it was not the kind of bike where you sat there in fear of a sudden, frightening speed wobble.
Unlike some other modern Suzukis, steering is not upset by backing off the throttle or braking in bends. Only in the wet did it feel less than secure, the fat Metz on the back was prone to sliding out a few inches. It was but a moment's work to back off the power a touch to allow the wheel to come back into line. White lines in the wet would have the machine shimmering like some ancient fifty.
Protection afforded by the plastic in downpours was better than many other race reptiles, although hands would still take a drenching and the screen was only useful if you tried to kiss the clocks. Strangely, despite running on 17" wheels and weighing only 430lbs, the bike was heavy going throwing through tight curves or S bends. I could tolerate that as it didn't wobble or twitch very much in other circumstances.
The twin front disc brakes were immensely powerful, braking could be left to the last moment and even under the heaviest of braking the bike would pull up in a dead straight line. Wet weather lag was not noticeable although after 9000 miles there was a lack of feedback that could result in a locked up wheel. I tried changing the fluid to no avail, I guess the rubber hosing was going off and I should have fitted some Goodridge but I could not afford the expense.
The longest ride I did in a day was 350 miles. The bike ticked over like it had just gone down to the shops, but I was very saddle sore, my brain buzzing with the exhaust wail (by that time most of the baffles had rusted out) and my body shaking from the vibes. I had done short stretches over the ton but the excess of cars had kept speed down to a mere 60mph or so. The overall riding position was good, sitting low in the machine you quickly became part of the bike and it took mere minutes to feel right at home.
The bike had averaged 43mpg on that trip which was more than I normally got. Overall average is less than 40mpg, sustained high speed work, keeping the speedo over the ton all the time returns about 35mpg and gentle riding never betters 50mpg. It doesn't consume oil between 3000 mile changes, so that does save some money. If it's expensive on fuel, that's also true for consumables. Metz tyres last for no more than 6000 miles and even the O-ring chain doesn't better 8500 miles, whilst pads were down to the metal after 6500 miles on the front although the rears have not been touched, mainly as I hardly use the back brake.
Expense doesn't stop there as the engine requires a full service every 3000 miles at around £100 a time. The plastic is easy to remove, the valves have screw and locknut adjusters and little else needs adjusting apart from balancing the carbs, so I guess my local dealer is the usual rip off artist. Unlike older Suzukis, the GSX does go off tune if it doesn't get its regular service, performance below 5000rpm goes very flat.
Replacing the O-ring chain myself I found that one of the rear monoshock's bushes was already worn (at 8500 miles) - you have to take the swinging arm off just to change the chain! I replaced that and greased all the bearing surfaces I could find as there are no grease nipples.
I've now done 12,750 miles. The engine is running as well as ever, the plastic buffs up as new and I have become used to the machine's limits, being able to swing it round like a much smaller bike. However, the exhaust is rotted through, rust is creeping out from under the frame paint and it's started to blow light bulbs all the time, as if the dreaded Suzuki electrical demise is about to pounce.
Perhaps the best thing about the Suzuki is its price. I bought my 1990 example for £2500 which compensates for the high running costs and gives one hell of a lot of horsepower for your dosh. I've even grown to love its looks, at least it's a bit different. A new shock and exhaust should set it up well for the next couple of years.
Adam Clarke
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The battered and bruised, 82000 mile, Suzuki GXS600F stood up against the garage wall, the stands long since chucked. The vendor had explained, when I telephoned him, that it was in a bit of a state. It had spent more time on the race-track than the road. Been dropped a few times, he helpfully added, but was basically straight and easy to fix with some cosmetic attention.
The only thing that had got me down to the wastelands of East London was the £675 price tag, which even in the depressed nineties had to be good going for a late 1988 example. It still ran, whined beautifully out of the 4-1 and open carbs, and tracked around the bends with sufficient precision to convince me that the square section frame was still straight.
The rest of it was pure rat. The copious GRP being cracked where it wasn't patched to the extent that the only way of ascertaining the original colour was to look in the registration document. Chrome, alloy and paint were all in a state that would only be acceptable in a twenty year old hack!
How many times the engine had been rebuilt was an open question. Thrashed relentlessly on the race track it had obviously led a very hard life. The clutch was jerky, the gearbox imprecise and the power delivery below 4000 revs full of flat spots, probably a function of the ill-matched carbs and exhaust, which itself looked like it was about to fall off. The consumables were all in need of replacement.
I offered 500 sovs, there were too many ways things could go seriously wrong to spend any more. The reaction was the kind of scowl that would stop a Dobberman in its tracks. I added that I had the money in my pocket, we could do the deal right there and then. He reluctantly accepted, growling that if any problems emerged I'd better not come back complaining.
It was dark by then. I had checked the lights over with the engine switched off. I soon found my first problem - the mill refused to run cleanly below 5000rpm. If I used the brakes, when the stop-lamp came on, the engine stopped dead. The solution was to ride home on the parking lights, the route was well lit so I survived the 30 miles without causing any accidents.
Next day, I pulled the plastic off to find that the battery was some pathetic 4 amp job and the rectifier/regulator unit was a home-made mess of electronic components and wires. The GSX isn't as prone to electrical problems as the earlier series, so I was able to pick up replacements for £50 in the local breakers. Next problem was that all the wiring was non-standard, so I had to guess which went where, but it all seemed to work okay.
The state the bike was in, it would be a natural target for the porkers, so after some pleasant fast riding to make sure I wasn't going to waste my time, I went to work on the GRP, leaving it in situ. A long weekend with the GRP kit, grinder and spray gun saw the swine emerge in bright white, with red transfers hiding the worst of the carnage. Some skilful welding on the exhaust plus a lot of spit and polish on the rest of the chassis made the machine look more its age. The breaker was raided for stands, pads, tyres, chain and sprockets. Total cost of the renovation about £250.
It was obvious to me that the bike deserved a long, hard thrash. Thus we hit the M4 at seven o'clock Sunday morning. Within minutes I had found out that top speed was 135mph and that the bike weaved persistently above 95mph. By the time the top speed was approached the weave had turned into wild wobble that came close to wrenching the bars out of my hands.
In deference to this, plus hidden police cameras and helicopters, I kept speed in the 75 to 90mph range, which the chassis could handle but the motor put out such an amount of secondary vibes that I suspected it was on its last legs. It was also very revvy, making me want to change up two gears even when in sixth.
By nine o'clock I was in Cardiff city centre, where they have the decency to have a lot of bike parking spaces. Getting off the Suzuki I was astounded to see a huge crack running down the side of the fairing between two mounting holes. There was also a fast forming puddle of oil. The sump was half empty or half full, depending on your state of mind - I was pretty far gone by then.
Oil and some bungee cords were not difficult to buy, but I managed to spill about a litre over the engine and the bungees were not totally effective in stopping the GRP from flaping around.
It was pretty obvious I'd be taking the A-roads home. On the A48 the Suzi revealed an independent nature, not wanting to follow my chosen route through the curves, instead liking to run wide. Rolling off the throttle caused the back end to twitch violently.
I made it home in one piece. Oil consumption, I later learnt, only became vicious if more than 80mph was sustained for any length of time. More cracks in the GRP, looking like it'd fall apart at any moment. The vibes also blew the front bulb, an all too regular occurrence. I had great fun repairing the wafer thin plastic but after two weeks had the GSX back on the road.
I decided it was an ideal hack to commute to work on. This was fine, except for the length, weight and mass when sharp turns in narrow gaps were needed, for the first couple of weeks until it started to rain. The Avon tyres let the bike skid all over the road, whilst the front discs became diabolical. They became vicious on-off devices until, after two weeks, the calipers seized up. The combination of dodgy tyres and brakes meant I'd slid along the road three times, further adding to the battered appearance.
The calipers proved beyond help, another enriching day for the breaker. I'd done less than 3000 miles, which had left the half worn secondhand pads down to the metal. The replacement calipers were no better in the wet, so it was just as well that the next two months were mostly dry. That put another 2500 miles on the clock, enough to have the tyres down to 1mm. The chassis didn't like that lack of tread one bit, feeling very twitchy indeed.
With nearly 88000 miles on the clock, the engine still knocked out the goods. Vivid bursts of acceleration with more than 6000rpm on the tacho, although the gearbox was so lacking in slickness that it was remarkably easy to throw the box into a false neutral when trying to burn off some rival biker. The wretched appearance made all kinds of lowly mounted scum think they could better us, but they rarely did.
I occasionally did a longish run at high speeds, but it was the exception rather than the rule when nothing went wrong. The worst occurrence was when half the silencer fell off, leaving me with a motor that only ran at 5000 to 6000rpm. The engine so overheated that it ended up stuck in third gear for about seventy miles. I had to replace the clutch plates as well as the exhaust (with another ratty 4-1). There are enough 600F's in breakers to make such repairs a relatively inexpensive hobby.
Another time, the front wheel bearings went, making the bars twitch like there was no tomorrow; took five hours to do 80 miles, leaving me a nervous wreck. After I took the wheel out I discovered some hairline cracks around the hub (I had ridden up pavements a few times) so the bearing failure was a timely warning.
The breaker had a 2000 mile front end for £125, which solved both the rotten braking and suspension problems. I was rather amazed at the way the GSX would scream up to 130mph with only the mildest of back wheel weaves, down to the shot shock or worn Full-Floater bearings.
Thus encouraged, I did make it through the four winter months, doing about 7000 miles in all, mostly hard-core commuting, the weather too cold for pleasure riding; the fairing useless at protecting my body from the wind or rain. As spring came there was over 95000 miles on the clock, the motor still able to whirr into life on the starter with the same enthusiasm as when I bought the machine.
Another round of consumable replacement and dismantling of the back suspension occurred as soon as the weather improved. I had to get into the hammer and chisel routine to remove the linkages and swinging arm shaft. Years of crud covered the shock to the extent that I was surprised it still worked - well, it didn't actually work......The breaker came up with replacement bits for £75.
My motorcycling mates were all going on holiday, so I had no option but to tag along. This involved trying to keep the speedo above the ton for the maximum length of time. Oil consumption was running at about two litres every petrol stop (about 35mpg at those kinds of speed) which my friends found highly amusing. After a week of this madness I was nearly bald and had hands that turned a pint of beer to froth.
Something had to give. The GSX engine, with 98 thou up, warned me that it was going to die by putting out vicious vibes. I ignored them for as long as I could, then said goodbye to my mates, rode the 340 miles home in a day at a pace that wouldn't have had a C50 rider worried. The bike, to its eternal credit, didn't seize up solid until it was yards from my house when I'd given it a burst of revs in celebration. When I looked there was hardly any oil left in the sump, which had a crack running through it!
The breaker was willing to give me £250 for what was left of the wreck, or I could bung him 600 notes for a nearly new engine. By any sane account the GSX should've been scrapped, god knows it looked ratty enough to inspire no love. But somehow the creature had got into my heart and I consoled myself that there was not much else that I could buy for the money.
The fairing was by then so comprehensively wrecked, that after installing the motor, it proved impossible to put back on. The motor, being oil and air cooled, looks quite butch, so it took not much thought to work out that I should dump the plastic. Just removing the fairing brackets must've saved 20lbs. After adapting some headlamp brackets, repainting the frame and fitting yet another dubious 4-1 exhaust, I was all set up for the summer.
The new motor went like stink, putting 140mph on the clock, the gearbox was amazingly slick and everything felt like silk after the old vibratory mill, which sulked in a corner of my garage. I later found little that was salvageable, suspected that it had gone around the clock more than once, the speedo not needing to be connected for racing.
The new turn of speed did show up some handling defects, the back tyre stepping out in bends under harsh acceleration and the bars twitching, just the once, in my hands when fervently backing off the throttle after finding myself suddenly going 25mph faster than I expected. Overall, though the bike felt transformed - considering that I replaced most of the parts, it wasn't that surprising!
The next six months were not trouble free. The fuel tank sprang a leak, soaked the engine in petrol and caused a minor panic in Central London when it caught alight. I lost my leather as I used it to damp out the flames, whilst a couple of peds went into screaming fits, figuring there was a terrorist incident going down. I saved the machine but had a lot of hassle from the plod, who came tearing out of nowhere; if there had not been so many people around they would probably have given me a vicious beating.
The other major problem was the drive chain calling it a day at about 75mph. Admittedly, I was down to removing a link every week, but the damn chains are eaten up in as little as 5000 miles. The chain threw itself off the sprockets, wrecking the chain- guard and back of the engine casing. At least the back wheel had not locked up and thrown me off. By then I'd gotten wise enough to join the AA, who eventually took me home.
The engine I fixed with Plastic Metal, obviously a somewhat dubious repair that did not encourage me to do long distance trips but made sure I checked the oil level after every journey. I had never had to bother doing the valves on the old engine, but this one needed attention every 3000 miles; perhaps all the components hadn't worn into each other yet.
All things told, as the summer came to an end I was a bit pissed with the GSX, felt it didn't have much more to offer. Decided that after the winter I'd tart the rolling rat up and see what kind of price I could get, either as a straight sale privately or as a trade-in.
Autumn was a horror show. I fell off four times for no apparent reason. Two times it was just a bit of gravel rash, one time I twisted my ankle, the other burnt a hole in my thigh. The worst damage to the Suzuki was a bent pair of forks, which I had straightened. I started riding the bike like it was an accident looking for somewhere to happen, which was less than fun.
Come October I went wild, bought a new set of tyres for the first time. Metz's which gave a lovely secure feel even in the wet when the GSX was at its most treacherous. Didn't have any more accidents, but the engine kept cutting out in the more thunderous rainstorms. WD40 didn't make any difference. After nearly killing myself several times, I finally figured out that it was the kill switch shorting out.
Winter was no fun, again, even colder than before on the naked bike. One journey, my hands froze solid, lost all feel, messing up my clutch and throttle coordination. I either launched into massive wheelies or stalled the engine dead. Either way, it took years off my life. Two pairs of gloves helped but meant I couldn't operate any of the switches, even those not worn beyond their service limits.
Of course, the calipers seized up again and the tyres wore so rapidly that their secure feel was dissipated by the lack of tread remaining by the time February came around. I was so disenchanted with the Suzuki that I was tempted not to bother cleaning it up, but the sad state of my finances put paid to that apathy. Mid March, I was happy to see the last of the bike, selling it for £950 in a private sale, courtesy of MCN classifieds.
Don't be put off GSX600F's by this tirade. I bought mine in a bad state and most of the problems were down to that. The engine's undoubtedly tough, the handling's fine with newish suspension and the rapid consumable demise is par for the course in the 600cc superbike league. Fast it may be, but it is a little bland, lacking the edge of a CBR or FZR600 but for less than 2000 notes it's possible to buy a nice one.
Alan Douglas
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Many people believe that Suzuki reached the height of their styling abilities with the old GS550/650 Katanas. Certainly, the GSX600 didn't impress and at a first glance the RF900 is just more of the same blandness. However, the more I looked at the bike the more its appearance grew on me, until suddenly, almost out of nowhere, there descended on me a desperate need to own one. Motorcycles grab you like that.
I had a pile of money but insufficient to buy a new one, even at Suzuki's relatively reasonable prices. I hated hp with a vehemence that was usually reserved for Volvo drivers, so no way I was going to sign away on the doted line. MCN was consulted, two bikes on offer, both low miles and around £5000. I chose the two month year old as it's owner was mature and willing to take £4750 for the as new bike which was only just run in. This turned out to be excellent value for money.
The centrepiece of the RF is a 900cc watercooled motor that as well as putting out a 125 horses revels in low and midrange power. The bottom half of the engine is derived from the mighty GSXR1100, therefore very strong with excellent potential longevity. The top half is unique to the RF but to the usual 16 valve, DOHC spec with four 36mm Mikuni carbs that are angled upwards to improve the efficiency of the flow.
The dry weight of 460lbs quickly escalates to a whopping 520lbs when a full complement of fluids is added, but initial impressions were of an easy turning, easy running motorcycle that needed only a moments worth of adaptation. Only when I tried to push the machine did its heaviness come home, the usual three dragging disc brakes not helping one bit. A bit of care in parking's needed to ensure the bike can be pulled, or preferably ridden, back out - but the same goes for any across the frame four.
The sensible riding position and comfy, if a touch narrow, seat helped that feeling of instant oneness. The riding position veers towards the sporting but isn't in any way extreme or threatening to limbs. The 31 inch seat height helped remove any feeling of intimidation and the engine mounted as low as possible removed the expected top heaviness. Overall, the bike felt more like a 600 than a 900!
The secure, glued to the road, feel comes from a massive wrap-around steel frame that eschews downtubes by using the engine as a stressed member, mated with an aluminium swinging arm and high quality Showa suspension. The 17'' wheels were already fitted with fat Metzeler radials that seemed to have a divine connection to the tarmac. They were given a relatively easy time by the controlled nature of the power output and good chassis dynamics.
If the plastic makes the RF seem large from a distance, once sat within the sculptured bodywork the feeling is of a much narrower and more compact machine (wheelbase's 57 inches). Steering accuracy is immediately impressive, even via laminated rubber mounted bars that do not entirely remove the odd tremor of vibration. Like few other bikes I've encountered, the Suzuki inspired instant confidence that seemed to heighten the faster we went.
There were only five gears to play with - I suspect that four would've been quite sufficient. Maximum power punches in at 9500 revs but the flow of torque is very strong from as little as 3000rpm, although it actually peaks out at 8500 revs (65ft-lb). Top gear roll-ons from 3500 to 10,000rpm were blistering with no need to change down to make cages seem as if they were standing still.
The transmission was actually smooth down to 1500 revs in top, although it balked when the throttle was hammered open, sulked for a while until a little more momentum was gained. Of course, racing up and down the box was also great fun and made the old girl accelerate that bit faster.
The RF was adaptable, then, turning from a headbanger's delight to a tourer's friend on the whim of the rider rather than trying to impose its own needs over and above those of its owner. The suspension, for instance, would soak up the bumps without totally isolating the rider from the road, there was always a grand amount of feedback that made riding on typically wet and slimy English roads more of a pleasure than a pain.
Wet weather riding would've been even better had the screen been higher, stock it was perfect for throwing a deluge of water at my neck, where it invariably soaked through my scarf. On the good side, hand protection was better than on many a quasi-sportster and my gloves were never left wringing wet. The fairing did keep a lot of wind pressure off, making 120mph cruising quite feasible and even at 160mph I was quite relaxed, only having to go into a mild crouch to avoid having my helmet torn off my head.
Stability remained good as long as the rear shock had its springing and damping turned up to their higher settings - the multi-adjustable shock is quite easy to set up all wrong and can cause the back end to bounce about over bumps. The front forks only have preload adjustment, so are easier to set up, although they do have a hard time as a lot of the engine's weight is forward biased. With 6000 miles now on the clock there is no sign of the suspension going off.
I found that the riding position suited me so well that 600 miles in a day was no problem. My neck felt a touch stiff, for sure, but it was nothing an hour's worth of rest couldn't cure. Out on the open road average fuel consumption was around 45mpg, with a best of 55mpg (just ride legally) and worst of 35mpg (ton plus cruising). I'd usually do 200 miles before having to worry about finding some fuel.
The brakes were initially a disappointment, not having the kind of power that made stoppies a one finger caress. A bit more exploration of the front twin discs, controlled by four piston calipers, revealed that they were highly effective stoppers, just needing a full hand's worth of pressure. They had plenty of feedback, worked extremely well in the wet and always gave the impression that I had fine control over the front wheel's antics.
The one time I had to do an emergency stop, due to the unbelievable antics of a bus sized Volvo (surprise, surprise), both tyres howled and the bike pulled up dead straight with space to spare. My heart was in my mouth and I'd caught my balls on the back of the tank which took so much wind out of me I couldn't even scream for a few moments. The tank driver motored serenely off into the distance without a care in the world.
The rear disc had the caliper mounted on the bottom of the swinging arm, a strange practice as virtually every other bike in the world has it tucked away on top of the arm. It was perfectly positioned to pick up all the road grime. Its performance has noticeably gone off over the last 1000 miles, becoming very grabby, so much so that I don't use it much, which will probably cause the whole thing to seize up solidly.
Such stupidity was mitigated by a beautiful exhaust system that should last the life of the bike! The silencer was made out of aluminium and the four into one downpipes from stainless steel. The exhaust note was quite eerie, soul stirring, under throttle but never loud enough to annoy anyone - I would've preferred a bit more noise as it gave cars a warning of my presence. I think stainless steel and/or alloy should be compulsory in exhaust systems as it stops all the bodging that goes down when normal steel rusts through.
Also on the plus side, so far the RF's cost hardly anything to run. I changed the oil every 3000 miles but the valves don't need doing for 7500 miles, the carbs have stayed in balance and all the consumables have a few thousand more miles of life left in them, even the tyres.
That means I have more money to pay for fuel so can ride the bike much more than something like Honda's CBR900, which is lighter and faster but goes through tyres in a few thousand miles and lacks the relaxed, versatile nature of the RF. Suzuki have cleverly blended relatively low running costs, superb power delivery at road speeds (even when speeding indecently) with an agile chassis that can hustle or tour with the best of them. In fact, the nicest compliment I can think of is that the RF's the modern incarnation of the Universal Japanese Four!
Tim Lloyd
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