Copyright (c) 1998 umgweb.com
I am not much of a two stroke fan. Neither am I tempted by either cafe racers or race replicas. But, immersed in MCN's small ads, I felt a distinct tremor, a quickening of the pulse and a large dollop of motorcycle lust when I saw the advert for the Dresda Suzuki.
This motorcycle consists of a British chassis in the cafe racer mould and a two stroke, 500cc twin engine of the seventies era. It had been one of the dream bikes of my youth, a time when Japanese bikes just didn't handle and the Suzuki twin was a remarkably tough and durable stroker. Pushing out 50hp, the Dresda was much snappier than stock, thanks to its 300lbs of mass instead of the stock bike's 400lbs.
Within moments I was on the phone. Turned out the chassis was fitted with the earlier T500 engine rather than the later, less powerful GT500. The owner had acquired the bike with the intention of going racing but before he had fully assembled the thing had decided to go to work abroad. Thus, his sister was at pains to clear it out her garage as quickly as possible - she assured me that the £400 price was open to offers for a quick cash sale.
With a mate, who fortuitously owned a Transit van, the next weekend saw us en route for the 100 mile drive to Bath. I was shocked by the state of the bike when it was duly revealed. The chassis consisted of a frame, forks, swinging arm and wheels plus a large pile of hardware thrown in one corner. The engine was together save that there was another pile of bits consisting of carbs, points, clutch, exhausts, etc, that also needed attention. I looked things over and couldn't find anything that was missing or in a bad state of repair. However, that didn't stop me making an offer of £250 and we eventually settled on 300 notes.
All the way home I pondered what I had let myself in for. Jesus, it could turn out to be a very expensive business if I found any serious faults. The next day I started to sort out the mess, taking on the chassis first as this seemed more straightforward. The frame is a beautiful array of high tensile tubing. It looks like a Norton Featherbed frame that had some of the curves straightened out and extra bracing around the steering stem.....not surprising really as Dresda started out making Tritons. T
he frame was straight, the suspension bounced up and down reassuringly. A double headlamp fairing of curvaceous nature fitted on to the various brackets already welded to the frame, but it had a couple of cracks and was in a terrible state of disrepair. Ditto the GRP tank, in two places it had been patched up with extra GRP, not a very inspiring item - I immediately had visions of the bike turning into a ball of fire in the middle of town. The seat was a skimpy solo affair, again much patched up on the base.
When all the other bits had been added it looked decidedly rough, but I decided it would have to do until I could see if the motor was going to run. I had to order some gaskets for the engine before I could complete its assembly, but apart from that and having too use Araldite to re-thread the exhaust stub bolt threads, it too went together without any great hassle.
This simple two stroke unit has huge cylinder fins to aid engine cooling and a separate oil pump to ensure lubrication. When it first came out, in the late sixties, American testers thrashed it across the desert to prove that such a large stroker could survive massive abuse. Of course, having spent a couple of years collecting dust, it was most reluctant to start. It eventually rewarded a bump start down our street, much to the amusement of the local youths. And yes, a large pall of blue smoke resulted, mainly because I had adjusted the oil pump to deliver maximum flow just to be on the safe side, or so I assumed.
Any T500 owner will not be surprised to learn that the crankshaft oil seals had gone. You had to keep filling the gearbox with oil as its contents were drawn out by crankshaft pressure. Still, as long as a pint of oil was added every 50 miles it could be ridden around. Top speed was limited to 80mph and there were loads of vibes coming up through the chassis - probably because there was a 100lbs less steel to damp it out.
The clip-ons and rear-sets produced a terrible riding position that did my back in after the first 20 miles, whilst my head kept hitting the fairing's screen which blurred so much it made a high pitched wailing noise. However, the bike felt commendably stable and very flickable. Acceleration was up to a derestricted 125 and many a happy hour was spent racing one of the local youths on his TZR125. Fuel consumption was in the high twenties. I actually did 700 miles with the engine in this state of decay. I then managed to find a good GT500, one of the last made which had only two owners and 22000 miles on the clock. The stock bike was still in good nick with sensible mods to the suspension and British tyres.
For 1200 miles I was so beguiled by its civilised manners and the wonderful relief of an upright riding position, that I resisted the temptation to install the GT engine in the Dresda chassis. Top speed was 110mph, fuel averaged 45mpg and the previous owner had set the oil pump up to such perfection that there was nary a sign of the dreaded blue smoke. I was both impressed and contented by the stock GT500, although I will admit it wobbled a bit over 85mph and was decidedly skittish in the wet despite nearly new Roadrunners.
Then some clown back-ended me whilst I was waiting for the lights to change. Yes, he was driving a Volvo. Even after he knocked the bike and myself over he didn't stopped.....he only came to a halt when his wheel had flattened my back end. I could have cried! Anyway, the chap was so shocked by what he had done that he wrote me out a cheque for £500 which I deposited in the bank straight away and got them to clear pronto. The engine was not damaged, neither was the front end.
The GT came with a single disc that was the equal of the four leading shoe drum fitted to the Dresda. However, shoes for the Dresda were impossible to buy and when I found that the spare set of yokes which had come with the Dresda allowed me to fit the GT forks, there was no stopping me.....I didn't care much about the suspension, it was the riding position that I wanted to change. Off came the fairing, the headstock bracket sawn off, the new yokes installed with the rest of the GT's front end. Then it was in with the new engine and out with the old. I had a large pile of spare parts, five hundred notes and a perfectly running Dresda 500.
Hurray. It was still a bit of a stretch over the long tank, but, I figured, a higher set of bars would solve that. The vibes were a little diminished but the tank still buzzed between my legs and the footpegs rattled at certain revs. I had omitted to mention the engine swap to young spotty on the TZR, so it was with a huge grin that I unwrapped the throttle in second. The poor youth didn't see me for the rest of the day. What a goer! It was still running the same gearing as the GT500, so acceleration was much improved and where the stock bike had bogged down at lower revs the Dresda screamed off into the distance.
The weaving that was evidence of high speed riding on the GT had also disappeared. It wasn't perfect as the bars would shake from side to side when the suspension crashed over particularly large pot-holes - these seventies devices have very limited suspension movement and in the case of the Dresda very stiff springs (the GT's forks fitted had also been modified with stiffer springs and spacers, by the way).
Despite its light mass very little can throw the Dresda off line, it holds its chosen path with great tenacity. Once banked over it's possible to brake gently without having the bike sit up and head for the nearest hedge. One GT trait I don't like is the lack of engine braking and in the early days I found myself rushing up to corners faster than I wanted after rolling off the throttle did not have the desired effect. Fortunately, there is loads of ground clearance and the bike can be hauled over at unusual angles of lean without the rider emptying his bowels in fear and loathing.
The bike would shoot up to an indicated 110mph without trying and slowly reach 125mph. Flat out a slight wallow intruded and, once, when I hit a large bump at the ton the chassis went into a speed wobble - backing off the throttle calmed it down, but for the next few days I was very cautious in my use of the throttle. As a motorway cruiser the bike was passable up to 90mph..... the new found ability to ride fast had a terrible effect on fuel, the average down to 36mpg, giving a range of about 100 miles as I was loathe to fill the tank up to its capacity, fearing an excessive quantity of fuel would cause it to burst.
I decided to spend a hundred notes of having a custom made alloy tank built, which with rubber mounting would cure both my fears and, hopefully, the transmission of excessive vibes. I also made up a unique set of rubber mounted footrests which got rid of those tingles. It's these small kinds of mods which make a machine into a personal vehicle. However, before I could take delivery of my new petrol tank what I feared most occurred. It happened at the worst possible time - doing 80mph in the motorway fast lane. The first I knew of it was when my knees started getting wet.
I looked down to a flood of petrol pouring out of a long crack in the tank. How the whole thing didn't ignite I don't know. Amid much horn blasting from the various cars I had to cut up to get on to the hard shoulders, I hauled the bike to a stop, leapt off and ran a few yards hoping like hell I wasn't going to be part of the fire-ball. I was very lucky that the petrol just streamed off the hot engine without catching alight. The AA took me home.
While I was waiting for the new tank, I started modifying the seat with thicker foam and a new cover from an old leather jacket I had grown out of. I had also fitted electronic ignition to the motor to cut down on the tedious task of checking the ignition timing, the only other things I had to do was top up the oil tank, change the gearbox oil and put in the odd set of spark plugs. I put another 15000 miles on the clock with hardly any problems.
The new tank arrived, fitted straight on and did, indeed, cut down on the vibes after a couple of inner tubes had been wrapped around the frame tubes. For about 5000 miles I had an excellent road bike, equally at home as a motorway cruiser, back road hustler or GP start star in town - I even surprised a CBR600 owner with the standing start acceleration.
Enjoying a 100 mile back road jaunt just for the joy of it, a fierce vibration ran through the bike and the next thing I knew the back wheel locked up solid. As a matter of self preservation I always ride with my hands on the clutch and front brake levers, so I pulled the former in the moment after the wheel started to slew sideways and managed to disconnect the drive before the bike threw me off. The engine was seized solid. The AA came to the rescue again. The oil pump had seized up, in turn starving the engine of oil, leading to the pistons seizing in the bores and various other carnage. So, here I sit writing this waiting for another engine to turn up. I have the perfect chassis sitting in my garage awaiting new motive force; I cast my beady eye at many a different motor trying to see in my mind if it will fit the frame or not. If anyone out there has a good GT500 engine they don't want...
D.L.
Return to Suzuki stroker contents
A lot of haggling had to take place until I was able, three years ago, to become the proud owner of a 1976 Suzuki RE5. Despite the Used Guide's warnings I desperately wanted to own one of these mobile spaceships. It was a machine that had grabbed my imagination when I was a 14 year old delinquent. And had never really let go. The example I eventually handed over £2750 for had only done 7000 miles and was in immaculate shape. The owner had interrogated me extensively before he would allow the prized possession out of his hands. My lust for the RE5 had convinced him that I would look after it as well as he.
The RE5 has one of those Wankel engines, this one displacing the equivalent of 497cc and producing a liquid smooth 60hp. In terms of money per horsepower it's shit value, but in terms of exclusiveness it was a great bargain - I have yet to see another one on the road! The Suzuki looks huge and feels even bigger once a leg has been swung over the saddle. This impression does not fade once underway, it's like riding some great lumbering elephant. My last bike was a CBR600, so the difference is all the greater; whilst my commuter is a CG125, another huge leap in terms of power and weight.
Either the bike came equipped with very poor suspension from new or, in 7000 miles, it had degenerated completely. As the RE5 is a Japanese classic, modifying or fitting non-standard suspension was completely out of the question! Up to about 50mph the bike is just heavy and awkward. Beyond that, weaves build up as speeds increase, although at around 70mph things settle down a little and it's possible to zoom along motorways without the bike wandering out of one's lane.
80mph was no problem for the motor, still extremely smooth. Power fades after that, but putting 110mph on the clock was not impossible as long as you get your head down between the clocks. The horrendous bit comes from the bike shaking about on its springs. It was so bad that after an hour's fast ride my arm muscles felt like they had taken a real workout. It was bad but, surprisingly, after a couple of weeks I realised the machine did not have a death wish like some old Kawa triple.
If I could live with bike on the motorway, A roads were another matter. I could not happily take the bike above 70mph, the suspension bounced about something awful, letting the undercarriage grind into the ground at minimal angles of lean and the sheer weight of the elephant meant it was as easy to throw the machine off the road as it was to get through a series of bends.
If that wasn't bad enough, the soft suspension tended to seize up over bumpy going, doing little to absorb the road surface, so even when gently meandering through the country my enjoyment of the RE5 was invariably spoilt by the horrendous pains being transmitted straight up my spine.
The exhaust noise was a strange whining that was never fully lost to the slipstream. At lower speeds it left an annoying ringing noises bouncing about inside of my crash helmet but this faded after a few months. The bike never really comes in hard powerwise, it's a very gradual and smooth build up of energy. Once a speed was achieved it was easy to hold it even against heavy winds and steep inclines. There were also a certain amount of weirdness when the throttle was backed off. A lot of banging in the exhaust and, even worse, under some circumstances a sudden surge of acceleration when you were expecting the machine to slow down. Heart palpitation time! Engine braking was conspicuous only in its absence.
The disc brakes were passable on a dry day but suffered from a delayed action if there was any hint of water around. I was so worried about writing off my beloved classic that I tried three different makes of pads with no great improvement. I had to keep a slight pressure on the front brake whilst riding around in the wet. Power was smooth, liquid, which otherwise made riding in the wet an agreeable affair with none of the lurid slides that are associated with more powerful and recent Japanese machines.
However, the mudguards appeared specifically designed to cover the bike with crud every time there was even a hint of a rain shower. I was overcome with a horrible sinking feeling whenever I was caught short in bad weather. The seat also soaked up gallons of water, leaving me with a wet backside for days afterwards. Most embarrassing!
The bike came with new Avons, which have proved perfectly adequate over the past 9000 miles, with plenty of life left yet. There is a school of thought that insists the original, rather plastic Japanese rubber should be fitted but they would only be satisfactory for holding the bike up at shows. The rest of the consumables have proved resistant to wear despite having to haul around 530lbs of metal and 200lbs of rider, down to the extremely smooth production of power. 9000 miles is not a great mileage in three years, I know, but the bike is only used on days when the sun is shining and stored over the worst of the winter. The CG takes the brunt of my commuting.
This relatively gentle life has kept the finish up to scratch. I have been motivated to keep the bike well polished, usually giving the RE5 a going over at least once a week, even over the winter when it is not actually ridden! I was a bit surprised to find that, at 12,200 miles, the swinging arm bearings were shot and at 13,700 miles the wheel bearings started emitting desperate screams for help. Great scabs of paint fell off the swinging arm after I'd removed it, so I had to take it down to bare metal before doing my best with a tin of black enamel.
A worrying aspect of the rotary engine was the way it needed vast amounts of oil and petrol poured into the tanks....anything from 25 to 33mpg and around 100mpp. The engine's smoothness would make it a dead cert for a grand tourer role but the fuel consumption would make a mockery out of such pretensions. I have done 300 miles in a day without suffering too many unusual pains, although I did limit my top speed to about 70mph, which is all the upright riding position comfortably allows.
Also, starting became poor if spark plugs were not replaced every 2000 miles or so. On the other hand, the motor has needed no maintenance, although its watercooling, unusual engine design and yards of plumbing make it a mind boggling engine to work on. Spares are apparently available from a couple of sources and there's even an owner's club, although I have not joined as I dislike such groupings; I prefer to enjoy my peculiar perversions privately - not that easy on the RE5, as huge crowds gather whenever it's parked in town.
Despite restrained riding I had a couple of close encounters with other vehicles. Although the twin front discs are quite powerful, the huge amount of mass that had to be hauled to a tyre smoking halt meant huge muscular input was needed on the brake lever to pull up in what are considered normal braking distances. I came within millimetres of taking the side off an inconsiderate Cavalier that had launched itself out of a drive into my path. A women, driving a Metro, had hysterics after the bike had swung through 90 degrees as I panicked braked the RE5 in front of her U-turning car. I had to park her car for her and try to calm her down before I could continue on my journey. I supposed it's one way of meeting the other half of the human race.
A lot of UMG readers will be doubtless appalled by the way I revere a machine that is not much use for anything other than posing around on, although if speed is not your middle name it will take you, eventually, anywhere you want to go. But that's the way it goes.....I became bored by the sheer civility of the CBR600 and the CG performs perfectly adequately the need to get to work and back again. I'm probably no better than those old codgers who trailer their British classics to the shows, but at least the RE5 has been very reliable so far and it's a lot better looking than those old British heaps.
Ian Hayes
Return to Suzuki stroker contents
120mph on a 25 year old motorcycle? Well, yes it was possible but not something I did for more than a few moments. The engine was, after all, a relatively mild 500cc two stroke twin that even if in the distant past was supposed to be incredibly tough it had now been around the clock once.
Apart from anything else, once above 100mph the economy took a vertiginous dive, working out at around 25mpg instead of a more normal, but only just acceptable, given my dirt poor status, 45mpg. And there was the major question of the front TLS drum brake that had become jerky in action.
The unit had for several years provided marvellous retardation even in the nastiest of nasty English winters. I’d recently put in new shoes as the old ones were down to the rivets after about 20,000 miles and replaced the cable which had lasted for about twice that distance before going somewhat elastic. Braking had improved but creeping unpredictability had begun to give me sleepless nights.
Further examination revealed that the drum had gone oval. It was slightly less traumatic than having a modern disc go wafer thin and crack up. After mulling over the cost of a new drum and the dubious possibilities of skimming the existing one (which I felt sure would give the aged alloy the excuse it was looking for to crack up), I decided that the front end off a GT500 I had languishing in the garage would be ideal.
These bikes get to you like that! As well as two T500 engines I’d bought a rat T350 and a blown GT500 for spares. In fact, to keep the T500 running I was willing to use components off the crashed Superdream or even C50 that were also sharing garage space. If things became really desperate I might even use the odd bit off a cage or the old washing machine. Never, when running a hack, throw anything away.
I’d already refurbished the GT’s forks so it was just a matter of taking the caliper down, cleaning it up and reassembling with new seals. The T500 needed new steering head bearings so they were bunged in as well. Disc brakes circa 1975 were not very impressive but with modern pads they worked almost as well as the drum for most of the time.
The engine had newish bores and pistons, a little bit shaved off the head and a bit of smoothing around its ports; was on its third rebuilt crank (the oil seals going twice and the main bearings once). Any T500 left stored for a while will dry out its oil seals, when started they will wear rapidly until the gearbox oil is sucked through into the crankcases. If you find one with a slick gearbox and minimal exhaust fumes chances are the motor’s in good nick.
Fifth gear on mine was inordinately noisy, which is quite common, but it didn’t slip out of gear and still engaged with a precision that was somewhat out of place with the rest of the bike. Power is mostly concentrated in the 4000 to 7000rpm range, although the engine will run 2000 revs either side of that. It’ll stay with a Honda Superdream 400 but have trouble keeping a GS500E in sight.
That’s in a straight line. Through the curves it’s in trouble, despite losing some weight by replacing metal chassis components with plastic when they rusted through, and putting on a stiff set of Girlings instead of the mushy original shocks. Most of the weakness seemed to come from around the swinging arm mounts, the arm itself looking a bit flexible.
Tyres were Avon Roadrunners, running a few more psi than recommended, which lasted for over 13000 miles on the front and 9000 on the rear; provided adequate grip for most of the time. White lines, after the tyres were half worn, would send the bike into a bit of a waltz, as would more than 75mph even on the smoothest and straightest of roads.
Bumpy roads of a curvy nature had the Suzuki shaking its head in anger and wagging its tail in dementia. There was still enough power to lighten the front end when accelerating hard out of bends. Giant speed wobbles were not out of the question, usually dying out before they threw me off.
I say usually, there were two occasions when the buckling became so intense that the machine and I were both thrown off the road. We both survived, thanks to a soft landing on grass. After such events the only thing to do was leap back on and speed off up the road, if I hadn’t done that then probably I would never again swing a foot over the Suzuki, or any other motorcycle for that matter.
Shortly after both speed wobbles the swinging arm bearings were loose, whether their demise caused the wobble or the frantic wobbling caused them to break up I don’t know. Either way, I now put in a new set at 5000 miles just to be on the safe side.
The riding position isn't stock, mild rear-sets and flat bars combining with a rebuilt seat with thicker foam to give a comfortable ride at reasonable cruising speeds or an hour or so of town work. Unlike similarly aged four strokes, the stroker doesn't go all temperamental during an excess of town work. Although the centre of gravity is low, the tank/seat relationship left me feeling like I was perched atop the bike - I've recently acquired a huge five gallon alloy job that should solve that! The bike's comfortable for five to six hours riding in a day before the twinges set in.
The engine complains if it doesn't have a new set of plugs every 2000 miles, either by refusing to start, stalling in traffic (a terrible fate as the kickstart's incredibly awkward to operate from the saddle) or just misfiring. Similar symptoms occur every 5 to 6000 miles if the points are not changed. Ignition timing stays in tune for about 1500 miles, it can be set by eye but a strobe is safer unless you want to chance burning holes in pistons. It's not too susceptible to oiling up, probably down to the improved two stroke oil that's now available.
One bit of great fun I had, which is all too common to these strokers, was the first time I tried to extract the motor from the frame. The engine bolts had seized in solid. The only way they moved was by putting a yard long bar on to the end of the socket wrench to obtain maximum leverage. Even then I had to put all my weight on it, which caused the bolt to snap and yours truly to be thrown face first on to the floor. Old bloody motorcycles!
Apart from stripping threads in the engine, and seized in cylinders, the motor was laughably easy to strip down. A lot of the internals looked like they had just come fresh out of the factory despite the speedo sporting 52000 miles. A crack running through the piston was the cause of that strip down, something to do with caning the bike in third and fourth in a back road scratch with a Kawasaki KH400. I won, the KH ended up with rattling main bearings and a huge plume of exhaust smoke.
There's usually some kind of warning of troubles to come. After living with the T500 for too many years I'm all too aware of how it should run, when there's a slight fall off in performance or increase in roughness (it was classed as electric smooth in its day but now passes for a rattly old heap) I know some work's needed. And it's given such good service that I don't mind doing it!
It's hard work finding a nice one, these days. Most of them have been caned to death and back again, and the few really immaculate ones are served up at such a ridiculous price that it's possible to buy something much newer and better for the same money. They were fantastic devices in their day, work nicely as cheeerful hacks even now, if you can find a source of cheap spares, and are the kind of simple bikes that you can grow into, modify to suit your tastes as you go along.
Kevin Mower
Return to Contents for Strokers
There are few Suzuki T350s left on the road. Compulsive fanatics in the Vintage Japanese Club will deny this. But in the past six years I only ever saw one on the road. That was such a rat that had he turned up at the Club he'd been strung up. When my bike was first sold in 1971 the 250s were vastly more popular as they were learner legal.
Starting was often so nasty as to put off the less dedicated potential owner. Most of this, I feel, was down to the poor quality of the points that are, these days, available. I'm sure that the original machine didn't need them adjusted every 200 miles as mine did. I suppose it was a useful safety factor, if they were slightly out the spark was so dim that there was no hope of the altered timing holing pistons - the damn thing wouldn't start even with brand new spark plugs, which themselves needed replacing every 500 miles.
This finicky nature wasn't down to dubious ignition coils as I tried both new Suzuki items and some from a breaker, nor was it down to poor wiring; almost as soon as I bought the bike it required a complete rewire. Evidence of this was brought to my attention by blowing fuses that stopped the engine dead in the middle of traffic and a front headlamp whose intensity suddenly flared from glow-worm status to searchlight intensity before going bang! I'd once owned a rat GT250 that did the same trick, which responded to my disinterest by catching alight. I deserted the fireball before someone arrested me for something. So there was no way I could ignore the Suzuki which had cost me £400.
Even with everything sorted, a brand, spanking new battery installed, the lights were still as dodgy as those on an ancient Raleigh Wisp that my mother still wobbled to the shops upon and which I had fooled around with at the tender age of 16. On a good day, when the full power was getting through it was good for 40mph on unlit roads; a bad day was accompanied by screaming car drivers complaining about my lack of a front light, the main beam gleaming strongly enough to past muster as the pilot beam on a modern superbike. Curiously, the back light shone brightly enough at tickover for alert police officers to suss the numberplate from a quarter of a mile away!
If the lights were crap the power delivery was sublime. The directness of the two-stroke power pulses have to be experienced to be understood. The T350 was never going to be as extreme as a Kawasaki triple of the same era, having only 30 horses on hand but what a delight it was to get the revs beyond 6000 revs in the lower gears. Zap! It was ridiculously easy to get the front wheel off the ground, although that was as much down to the weight distribution as the power pulse.
The bike came to me with entirely standard suspension that was probably worn out after a mere year on the road, if not the moment it came out of the factory. By the time I got my hands on the thing, there was absolutely no damping and so little springing that they were down on the stops with my mere 11 stones on the saddle. It would've been sensible to fix the suspension before testing the limits of the engine but I didn't want to waste my time and money on the bike unless I was assured that the two stroke twin was up to spec.
I selected a straight, smooth road that I knew well. Lots of go in the motor (it'd been rebuilt) but weaves come 50mph, most of the distress coming from the back end where the flimsy swinging arm felt like it was working its way through the swinging arm spindle. I thought I'd have a quick blast up to 75mph in third gear just to check that the power flowed in smoothly. Come 65mph both wheels were getting way out of line, each wanting to go their separate ways. Then the handlebars started juddering in my hands, a vertical movement rather than the more usual wobble. It was like holding a jack-hammer, with ominous grating noises drowning out the wail of the exhaust. I figured there was nothing wrong with the engine and grabbed a dose of brakes.
Out front there is a TLS drum. In theory it was a pretty meaty device and, indeed, the couple of times I'd used it in anger in town I was quite impressed. I could pull up safely, just short of locking the wheel. No nasty calipers to sort out and shoes that would last forever, I smugly told myself. So when I grabbed a handful, with a bit of fear inspiring my grip, I was more than surprised to find the juddering increased and the braking to be all but nonexistent.
I was close to screaming in terror, going numb with panic, as there was a bloody big bend not too far away. Dropping the throttle dead and whacking on the rear drum whilst resolutely hanging on to the bars, allowed me to shave off enough speed to skid off the road before the curve. After I had recovered from the shock of near death (about 15 minutes and five fags, if you must know) I kicked the front end which felt solid enough. When I got down close to the wheel I found that the drum was cracked! That's how come my T350 has a front end off a GS450E, and I don't give a damn if the vintage fanatics wet their pants. A lot of 25 year old drums are likely to be going the same way!
Sorting the back end looked a lot simpler until I realised that the swinging arm was halfway rusted through. Don't believe anyone who tells you that a GT250 arm will fit, it won't. As it happens, I had a nice pair of Koni shocks that had the wrong end fittings for the existing swinging arm, so it seemed the best thing to do was to have the old one welded back into good shape with the addition of some new brackets for the shocks. The guy who did the job for me was all for adding a few pounds extra bracing but even a cursory look at the swinging arm mounts on the T350 reveals sod all torsional stiffness; adding a couple of pounds extra unsprung weight was the last thing that I needed.
As well as sorting out the suspension the bike needed new bearings all round, including the wheels. Perhaps because I went to the bearing factor for the latter, the only way they could be bashed in was by freezing the bearings, heating the wheels with a blow-torch and hitting them in with an extremely large hammer in a frenzy. I was lucky I didn't crack any alloy (or my fingers) - oh, for a 500lb hydraulic press.
After all that effort I expected transformed handling, was, indeed, rewarded with a tolerably competent hustler up to 80mph. Thereafter some quite large weaves occurred, down, as I expected, to the weakness of the swinging arm mounts. The one time I put the ton on the clock the chassis presented the perfect definition of being hinged in the middle. At least there was no sign of the wrist snapping juddering nor of the dreaded tank-slappers. For such an old bike the T350 was a perfectly acceptable handler.
It also had a gearbox that was as slick as many a modern bike. I think a lot of that was down to its separate compartment which took thicker oil than that demanded by the engine (the mill was modern enough to have a separate oil tank and pumped lubrication system, none of that petroil nonsense). The T350 was part of a series of stroker twins that went from 250 to 500cc, and the gearbox seemed to suit the 350 much better than the other models (the 500's being especially dubious). Even neutral was easy to find at junctions; an amazing feat for a machine of this era, as any Honda owner will reluctantly testify.
Not so amusing was the way the engine would clog up in town, taking just ten minutes of slow riding to sulk and ultimately oil its plugs if not given a wild burst of acceleration in second or third. That lays down quite a thick cloud of smoke and makes a rather tinny wail, neither of which go down very well with young kids dressed up in police uniforms. My explanation that I had to ride that way to keep the engine from cutting out did not stop some youth from giving me a fifteen minute lecture on my civic responsibilities. I stayed quiet and took it all, refrained from telling him he should be out catching bike thieves, muggers, drug abusers...
Despite poor low speed running and being dangerous at night, there were times when I had no other machine running and was forced to use the T350 for commuting. The power delivery kept me in a happy frame of mind, whizzing between the cages like there was no tomorrow. I can get away with that kind of manic behaviour as I've been riding for 20 years and have developed all the necessary reflexes.
Lots could be written about the dubious nature of seventies stroker's mechanical reliability but given frequent maintenance and a slightly tempered right hand (which doesn't limit the fun but avoids the red sector like the plague), T350s (or T250s and T500s for that matter) can run for tens of thousands of miles. My admittedly well rebuilt engine has done 26000 miles without any mechanical trauma, the clock now reading 64000 miles! It seems to be running better than ever. Famous last words...
Ian Newington
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One day, while looking at the bike ads in the local rag, I noticed a 1980 X7 for sale. I quickly phoned the contact number and on arrival at the seller's house I was ushered around the back where the beast awaited me, covered in a plastic sheet. Apart from a small split in the seat cover and a rather flat battery, the X7 was immaculate. The 11000 miles on the clock seemed genuine.
The owner explained how he passed his test on a C90 and suffered from severe diarrhoea when he wound the X7 open. His wife was also pressing him for some dosh for the family holiday, as well as being tired of washing his underpants. He dropped the price from £250 to £200 and fitted a new battery.
I found the X7 a light and responsive machine, with good low down power that I have never experienced from an aircooled stroker with its origins in the seventies. I put this down to the reed valves and CDI ignition, a vast improvement on the points of the earlier GT250.
Fuel consumption depended on throttle abuse, 40 to 55mpg. On short runs there was a tendency for the engine to clog up, especially if used at low speed in town or heavy traffic. The remedy, to find an open stretch of road and give it a good blast to clean out the engine, rather like exercising a racehorse.
Though the X7 is a rapid machine, I have some doubts about the euphoria that surrounded its launch back in 1978. They claimed it would do the ton, which was backed up by the test rides, but many examples that hit the road seemed rather slower. A mate with a 1981 bike found it would only do 90mph flat out. On my bike, 11000 miles of abuse had had an effect and the huge mirrors ruined the aerodynamics whenever I got my head down. With a little fettling and careful preparation, the magic ton may well be possible, as many tuned examples have exceeded that.
For the next twelve months the bike ran perfectly and the only maintenance required was that of changing the oil and plugs, plus checking the chain tension. However, after covering some 4000 miles a noise developed in the left-hand crankcase and on removing the barrel I found that there was excessive play in the big-end.
Luckily, a local breaker had a good bottom end for £30, so I decided to get the motor rebored whilst it was in bits. The summer of '86 was taken up with me running around gently until I had covered some 700 miles, after which I rode the bike flat out. There was a considerable increase in performance.
Some months later, while giving the bike its regular cleaning, I noticed that some of the paint on the bottom weld of the tank and also on the frame, around the footpeg area, was starting to flake away. This came as no surprise as I knew, from previous reports, that the finish was not its best point. I had already taken the precaution of painting the base of the seat in black Hammerite
About that time, I'd been experiencing feelings of seasickness, attributed to the leaking OE rear shocks. They had at least lasted for 18000 miles. For a tenner the breaker furnished me with an excellent used pair. New pads and shoes were also fitted in preparation for a trip around North Wales. The bike ran well, making easy going of mountain roads whist returning over 50mpg; passing weekend cagers as if they were driving in reverse.
Some miles outside Ruthin, I observed a tractor and trailer parked on the left side of the road. Dropped a couple of gears in order to make a clean and rapid pass. As I approached, the tractor driver made a sharp right turn across my path. I slammed on all the brakes, managing to stop just clear of the tractor. In Wales, it's only the sheep who are careful of who's approaching them from the rear!
Until March '87, things were uneventful, the bike had survived commuting throughout the winter, giving great service. One morning, when I opened the garage door, there was a strong smell of petrol, though there didn't appear to be any leak. About a week later I noticed that there were drops of fuel on the left side of the tank. The bottom of the tank was rusting through. I managed to repair this with sealant from a car shop.
As time went on, performance decreased a bit and the best top speed was 80mph. When someone offered me an immaculate 400 Superdream, I decided to put the X7 up for sale. The advert went into the local newsagents, and I received 19 phone calls over two days, getting the asking price of £180 without any great trouble.
Some five years later I was commuting 39 miles a day and I was looking for a small, economical bike with a reasonable turn of speed. I ended up with an '82 X7. The motor was very smooth and quiet, with good acceleration. The petrol tank had been replaced due to rusting, as had the front guard with a plastic item that didn't help with the rigidity of the forks. The seat base had been repaired with GRP.
For £300 I had bought a bargain, during the next five months the bike ran fine. Capable of 95mph and totally reliable. A few weeks before Christmas, the engine was rather noisy in the region of the top end, so I decided to completely strip and rebuild the whole bike.
The frame was shot-blasted and powder coated, the engine fitted with a reconditioned crank and rebored, the tank and plastics painted in Vauxhall Regatta blue with some laser cut transfers added. Total cost, just over 400 notes.
After running in, the X7 ran like a brand new machine. One of the advantages of owning this type of bike is simplicity. The only special tool needed when rebuilding was the flywheel extractor (£11). To keep things going I managed to buy some spare engines from breakers, as good used parts seem to be quite rare.
When looking for an X7 it may not always be best to buy the cheapest one or the bike with the nicest motor. It should be remembered that the latest models are twelve years old and it is very difficult, nowadays, to find a good standard example. Things to look for are, as already mentioned, tanks, seats, front guard (the rear's plastic) and fork stanchions. Also, the exhaust rusts and the frame around the shock mount can corrode through.
Engine problems are of the usual two stroke variety, with the bores and crank being the main horrors. I have also heard of several gearbox failures. The electrics are more reliable than on earlier models, the main weakness being the left-hand handlebar switch (a new one costs £55).
Summing up, the X7 is an excellent lightweight sporting bike, though I feel too light for long distance two-up riding, and there is still a reasonably good supply of new spares available. It is cheap and easy to maintain (even more so than some Iron Curtain hacks), ideal for good biking fun on a low budget. Prices vary according to condition, though £300 to £350 should see you right for a good, useable model - I have seen them on offer at up to £695.
At present, I do not see them as collector's machines, though there are people about who insist they are, and thus ask silly prices for them. Having had much enjoyment out of mine, and put in the time and money for the restoration, I intend to keep it and maybe one day it will be a classic like its ancestor, the Suzuki T20 Super Six.
K.D.
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There's always the fear, when owning a complex device like this rotary Suzuki, that something will go wrong with the engine. The Wankel motor always had so many limitations, revolving around keeping the rotor's seals cool and intact, that what in theory was a simple design became in practice much more complex than conventional motorcycle schemes. With 32000 miles on the clock, all is so far well; if the worst happens then the spare motor, salvaged from a crashed bike, will be brought into play.
When the RE5 was introduced in 1975 rotary technology was not so far advanced that Suzuki could forgo over-engineering the whole device. Fully fuelled, weight was around 550lbs and only 60 horses was developed. This unlikely combination is better than you'd expect on the road due to the way the motor runs silkily from tickover onwards. At 5000 revs all hell breaks loose, an indication of the directness of the power pulses and the potential of the motor. Alas, such excitement rapidly dies out, the motor feeling like it's been strangled as higher revs are approached. Still, using the excellent gearbox to keep the revs in the 5000-6000rpm range pushes the old girl along in a way that still surprises modern bikes.
Such is the smoothness of the engine and transmission that the drive chain intrudes when it goes out of adjustment or wears out (every 12000 miles). Such is the serene nature of the engine that any intrusion becomes all out of proportion to its amplitude and is sorted out pretty damn quick.
How smooth is smooth? It makes the CB400 four that shares garage space feel like an old dog and my MZ 250 as agricultural as a lawn mower. I stash the RE5 away over the winter, coming back to it after a couple of months on the MZ always brings a huge grin to my face. There's no doubt about it on this one criteria, the RE5 is in a class of its own.
The machine's a bit of a handful in town but a huge crowd puller. Suzuki did nothing to hide its complexity or plain oddness. The spaceship styling with Star Trek instruments, the expanse of polished alloy and chrome, and the sheer bulk of the bike still grabs pedestrians by their eyeballs. It's always amusing to park up next to a crowd of race replicas, the latter completely ignored. If you like to go about your business without being pestered don't buy one of these motorcycles.
Parking the RE5 is a bit of a problem. Resting against the slightest camber makes it impossible to back out, so the bike always has to be backed into parking spaces. At a walking pace the steering is incredibly heavy, like trying to control a wheelbarrow filled with six bags of cement. There's also a lot of top heaviness. On one occasion I was trying to slip into a narrow gap, got the angle of entrance slightly wrong which had the plot suddenly trying to fall over.
Oooops. It whacked a CB125 off its stand, which promptly fell on to a CX500 which collapsed on top of someone's Yamaha Townmate. They went down like a pack of cards. The RE5 bounced on its massive crash-bar and I pulled it up, suffering screaming muscles, then did a runner before the bikes' owners came back.
The truck sized radiator and crash-bars stick out so far as to make a mockery of any pretensions the RE5 might have towards compactness. The engine runs cleanly at low revs and the overall balance ain't bad, but the width and slow steering makes town riding a real pain. In the early days, when I didn't know any better, I managed to fall over when trying to turn the RE5 through narrow traffic gaps. The cars drivers were not amused by their dented bodywork but the Suzuki remained unscathed. I know better now, if I want to do any serious traffic work I take one of the other bikes.
The RE5 has to be classed as a tourer, it just can't match other bikes on the open road or in town. On the motorway it'd shoot up to the ton then go completely dead. The motor just doesn't want to rev any higher but it's quite possible to cruise at 90 to 100mph for an hour or two. You have to be rich, though, as fuel is appalling - 25mpg! Normally, I'd achieve 35 to 40mpg with an all time low of 20mpg!
Whilst it'd hold a reasonable speed on the motorway going around corners was less thrilling. The main problem was the stand touching down. This was about as much fun as running over an assault course with a broken ankle. The stand likes to dig in, trying to lever the Suzuki right off the tarmac. The RE5's not the kind of lightweight machine that can be twitched upright with ease. The steering is so slow that it makes a GS550 seem fit for chucking around the Isle of Man. It is, though, pretty safe, able to run over large bumps without going into a feeding frenzy.
Suspension seems to have been borrowed from the GT750 triple, another bike not exactly renown for highway class. The front forks went really nasty when the chrome guard rusted through, but a new one brought back a modicum of rigidity. I rebuilt them about 10,000 miles ago - if I hadn't been obsessed with keeping the bike original I would've fitted something much more modern.
The same goes for the rear shocks, just about anything would be better but they don't get any worse with age! One set of swinging arm bearings were replaced, a little bit of grease being noted on the spindle. The frame's tubular and rusts away where it's hidden beneath all the engine bits. No way I was going to pull the motor apart unless I had to, so a bit of scraping and long paintbrush were applied - every damn month! The alloy needs constant polishing and if it's chromed it rusts, needing replacement after 20,000 miles. New RE5 parts do turn up from time to time in MCN trade classifieds, some GT750 cycle bits can be used and I've renovated quite a few parts from the crashed bike.
The front disc brake always seemed a bit dodgy to me. Note the way the calipers are mounted in front of the forks, with all the inertia complication that it causes. A real period piece that was quickly abandoned in later models by every motorcycle company in the world. The discs are solid cast iron, so hard they haven't worn one tiny bit - wet weather lag paints a yellow streak right down my back. Braking power is adequate up to 80mph, but the few times I've really pushed the RE5 some fade turned up. Pad wear was about 7000 miles, more a consequence of the rolling mass than any excessive use of the brake. Caliper rot wasn't that bad, but only because I never rode in the winter.
The rear drum is merely adequate, glowing red hot in the dark when abused. The wheels were another story, spoked jobs with alloy rims. I've had back rims break up and just gently rolling up on to the pavement was all it took to buckle the rim. When the rear bearings went at (15000 miles) they proved so well corroded into the hub that the alloy cracked when they were finally hammered out. The hub from the crashed bike was used with stainless steel spokes and heavy duty alloy rim to match the front wheel. Only a maniac would complain about the non-standard set-up.
Despite all these hassles many a happy summer was spent touring on the bike. On major roads it's a relaxing, smooth and sophisticated little number. Oil had to be watched as rigorously as fuel but a set of Avons would go for more than 10,000 miles. Comfort was good for about 400 miles in a day at 60-80mph.
The UMG doesn't rate the RE5 and seems outraged that prices are in four rather than three figures. I'm obviously happy that it's such a valuable bike but in all honesty can't say that the value is justified. I'll keep mine for a while longer. I like its uniqueness.
Geoff Raymond
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You don't see very many of these big stroker twins on the roads, these days. They are even totted as classic sixties motorcycles, mostly on the back of their reputation as being incredibly tough. I don't know about that, my 1967 example seized up at 34000 miles and threw me down the road. That was in 1980, thoroughly annoyed and shaken I'd hurled the remnants of the accident to the back of the garage and pursued my highway kicks in an old Lotus Elan. That came to an end in 1991 when some fool handed over a ridiculously large sum for what'd become a sought after classic car.
Unfortunately, the money went to pay off the thieving bastards who held the mortgage on my house. A week later, whilst having a look around the local motorcycle dealers, I spied a pile of old Suzuki parts on special offer. I ended up with new tank, panels, guards and exhaust system for the T500. Fate had shown me what I had to do, that very day I'd dragged the T500 out of its hiding place and set to work in a fury of enthusiasm and energy.
I had taken the precaution of the filling the bores with oil; much to my surprise this had loosened off the pistons. The bottom end was sound, the bores okay, what was needed was new small-ends and pistons. MCN was consulted and the phone employed, the new parts ordered and arrived the next day COD. The engine was reassembled and started up without too much mayhem on the kickstart.
Having proved that there was still life left in the old girl, new consumables and chassis parts were fitted, an MOT gained and insurance paid (very cheap as the T500 was a classic). Sounds simple, I know, but all in all it took nearly a month to sort out the myriad of small details that are bound to crop up when a bike's been stored for over a decade.
For those who can't remember as far back as the sixties and seventies, Suzuki used to make a whole range of two cylinder strokers, from 125 to 500cc, having particular success with their 200 and 250cc models, in the days when learners were deemed sufficiently adept to handle such potentially fast machines. If the 250s managed close to 30 horses, and were in a high state of tune, then the 500 only produced 50 horses, was relatively mild and civilized for a stroker, especially when compared to the likes of Kawasaki's 500 triple.
With the brand new exhaust fitted, the T500 wasn't in any way loud or offensive, neither did the motor rattle and ping like you'd expect from an old stroker. The only sign of its age was a slight haze of pollutants but as the engine warmed even this cleared up - my careful setting of the oil pump obviously paying off.
I couldn't believe how smooth and slick was the gearbox, having used some modern bikes owned by friends - yes, I had made damn sure that the crank's oil seals were soaked in oil before I started up the engine. On bikes where the seals have blown and oil drained out of the gearbox into the crankcase, the gearbox's invariably rough and notchy. A quick and easy way of sussing the history of the 500 model if you're ever tempted to buy one.
Along with the still slick gearbox, the engine was smooth and powerful. Momentum was gained as the revs rose to an extent that quick action on the box was needed to keep up with the flow, though there was absolutely no point taking it above 8000rpm; power tailed off and vibes tried to undo the footpegs.
An excess of pleasant memories flooded back as I hustled along the Devonshire lanes, living out in the countryside having distinct advantages. The only spoiler was the TLS front drum brake which had a lot less power and precision than I'd recalled even though I'd fitted new shoes. A new cable and some precision work on its adjusters improved matters but the violence of the retardation never reached a level that allowed me to day-dream.
On one occasion the lack of brakes caught me out, although to be fair wet weather braking was largely superior to modern machines with their calipers exposed to all the grit and damp. I always laughed when heard tales of modern discs needing to be stripped down every six months. In this sole respect old drum brakes are vastly superior; it's a pity no-one tried to develop the design.
Back to the accident. The quietness of the bike meant that a pedestrian stepped out of nowhere as I was filtering between a couple of rows of cars. Rather than hit him I swerved into a gap in the traffic. Such an unexpected move meant the car behind plowed into my side. Had triple discs allowed me to stop on the proverbial dime I would've been able to slow in time. The speed of the collision was fortuitously low, most of the damage done to my leg. My rather large size meant the cager didn't go berserk and we parted without bothering with the insurers. The ped had fled scene.
The damaged leg made starting the machine all the more difficult, for some strange and devious reason they'd put the kickstart on the left-hand side. It's true that hardly any pressure's needed, due to most of the compression of the fuel/air mix taking place in the crankcases. This inbuilt supercharging along with the directness of the two stroke cycle giving these engines their verve.
It's surprising how even modern machines lack the direct connection between throttle and back wheel that these old strokers possess - as long as the engine's in its powerband; low revs and tall gears equates to the big sulk, along with some oiling of the plugs in mild town usage. Not that the engine stalled, being too civilised for such antics, it just sulked away until appropriate selection of gears and throttle position was achieved. Then it'd clear out its guts and steam up the road like a cat being chased by a dog.
This acceleration, which was strong up to 110mph with an ultimate top whack of 120mph, could catch out a chassis that was still wearing original suspension! There was a curious mixture of lack of damping and roughness in the ride that for the most of time didn't really upset the 400lbs of chassis. I guess the frame must've been well built because the worst that happened was a bit of tail shaking and head nodding. Ten-tenths riding might've turned up more nastiness but neither the bike nor I was in the market for that kind of craziness.
There was the odd minor problem as the mileage piled up over a year of riding. The rear light bracket fractured, left hanging on its wires. Rust from the old guard had gained a grip on its underside. A bit of metal plate and pop-rivet gun repaired it. The indicators started to flash at a psychedelic rate, which was repaired by a control box out of an MZ! Some bits of wiring looked dodgy, replaced before they could short out.
Finish, with all the new chassis parts plus some polishing of the cases and wheels, was excellent, almost as good as new even with the clock reading 48000 miles when I came to sell it. The only reason for the sale was that someone offered me £1500 whilst I had the chance of buying a nice Pantah 600 for 900 notes.
The new owner was a vague acquaintance so I know what's happened to the T500. Ran to 56000 miles when it needed a crankshaft rebuild. Expensive, as the mechanic also managed to ruin the front mounting lug! A few months later I was visiting the owner in hospital after he came off on a diesel slick. His wife gave me a look that made me feel two feet tall. The poor old T was badly mangled and I felt honour bound to sort her out.
Ended up with a front end and wheels off a GS550, Girling shocks, alloy racing tank, rear-sets and clip-ons. New or newish stock bits were impossible to find. The owner, once the plaster was removed, wasn't keen on the machine, offered it to me for £1000 but I'd already sold the Pantah, which was a bit of a dog, to buy an early CBR600. He eventually sold the T500 for £600.
Carl Driscol
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£750 for a 1979 Suzuki GT250X7? Twelve years old and an unknown mileage (the speedo was 500 miles old). Overall condition was good with new consumables and an original paint job that suggested the bike had never been ridden over the winter. The brief blast up the road revealed that the engine had a siren song out of all proportion to its capacity. I was hooked and the deal was struck.
Riding the twenty miles to my York abode it was big grin time. Keeping the revs up, the eerie howl really getting to me, we hustled through the bends like Barry Sheene on a bad day and I thought I glimpsed God a few times! All good things have to come to an end, for some strange reason. This time my euphoria shattered by the front tyre exploding.
The bang, the shaking bars, the sudden descent into a black reality as the whole front end went berserk. The only good thing was that I'd whacked down through the box for a sharp right-hander and the fall happened at a mere 25mph. It still hurt, wrenching my shoulder and twisting an ankle. The bike was a sorry state as it'd flipped up into an ancient tree which shook the ground in anger and smashed up the front wheel, forks and guard.
There was I, barely able to stand but still able to utter the usual curses, with a bike that looked like it'd fallen off a cliff and no easy way to get home (ten miles). Out of the haze of distorted vision appeared the evocative shape of a brand new Triumph Thunderbird ridden by an old school friend. Relief was mingled with embarrassment, which turned into open envy after a fantastic, almost surreal, lift into town.
Had the X7 been a fifty quid hack I would've abandoned the dangerous heap but having too much money invested in it, I arranged for a mate with a Transit to come to the rescue. On examination, the font inner-tube proved dangerously patched, an accident waiting to happen. Parts from the breakers resurrected the GT but it took me a while to regain my nerve.
This was just as well. For the next 3500 miles the bike behaved itself impeccably. Couldn't even get it to oil the plugs in slow town riding. Then, slamming on the anchors to match a psychotic set of traffic lights (or maybe I was distracted by a bint in a micro-skirt), the rear drum locked up as solidly as a bank vault. I almost burnt out the clutch when it was time to take off, which already had an annoying rattle at tickover.
There I was in the centre of York with a bike that was completely immobile. Even the OAP's sniggered at my attempts to gain the gutter, which after doing my back in I finally managed. After booting the brake arm a few times it freed off and I was able to hobble home. Sole use of the front disc, an antique if ever there was one, wasn't sufficient to keep the X7 under control, the steadying effect of the rear brake compulsory to stop the lightweight machine hopping all over the shop.
When I pulled the back wheel out there was enough asbestos dust to make an environmental officer come. I couldn't understand why one of the wheel bearings fell out until I cleaned off the grime to clock a bloody big crack in the casting! I also found that the swinging arm bearings were shot.
Funnily enough, despite these horrors, I hadn't found the handling that bad as it was light enough to throw around like a moped and didn't produce a wobbly even with the ton on the clock. Admittedly, I didn't hold that speed for long because revving into the red equated to massive vibration and the probable early demise of an engine which had a bit of a rep for blowing its small and big ends. Just a little bit of caution was a good idea on these kinds of bikes, not that it spoilt the fun.
When I bought the bike, I was assured that the chain and sprockets were almost new, so it was a real pisser to find that with just four thou under its wheels the sprockets were well hooked and the chain dragging along the ground. The replacement wheel had a decent sprocket and I purloined a reasonable bit of used chain when the breaker wasn't looking, so total financial disaster was avoided.
It wasn't long after that when the clutch rattle overwhelmed the silencers' howl. By then I'd come across a couple of other GT250 owners and had been warned off pattern plates with stories of them cracking up. A new set of plates and springs was installed, not a difficult job I thought. 400 miles later one of the springs fell out! Manifested by grinding noises and massive clutch slip. I did a roadside repair as it was impossible to ride the bike like that...no real damage to the motor.
The curious thing was that these problems didn't turn me off the Suzuki. The combination of stroker power in the form of 30 horses and only 300lbs of chassis made for a hell of a lot fun, whether in town or down the back roads. Even on the main routes there was sufficient performance to take on the faster traffic. If I wanted to push the parameters, I could cruise for a hour at 90mph! After that amount of time, lack of comfort rather than the prospect of a seized engine made me back off.
It wasn't so much the saddle that impinged as the forward mounted pegs getting my body all out of shape, although the bars were a useful compromise between comfort in town and motorway cruising. Neck and thigh pains blitzed through my body, becoming really painful after a few hours even with a stop for fuel every 120 miles.
Consumption wasn't bad for a hard charging stroker twin, 45 to 50mpg. Suzuki were the only viable rivals to Yamaha's attempts at perfecting the stroker concept, Kawasaki triples being fun but totally impractical. The Suzuki was even moderate on oil, until about 6000 miles into my ownership when it was doing 120 miles to a pint.
I knew something was amiss before I realised that the oil consumption had gone up. The plugs started oiling up in town. I tended to change them every 1000 miles to keep the starting a first kick affair, but was doing them every 200 miles and becoming worried about riding below 4000 revs! I kept riding until the performance was affected; a 250 with a 65mph top speed was not impressive!
I should've seen to the motor sooner, leaving it that long meant that instead of needing just a new set of oil rings both bores and pistons were dead meat. To make matters more exciting two of the head studs stripped their threads. After ringing around breakers, decent barrels and pistons were obtained, whilst meticulous application of that essential stand-by, Araldite, solved the thread problem - it really is wonderful stuff.
After all that effort I expected searing performance and an excess of good times. Instead, I had a 90mph top end instead of 100mph and a deficit of acceleration that made burning off Superdreams hard work. After two weeks the problem was revealed by a rasping noise from between cylinder and head; the latter was slightly warped, either by my own cack-handedness or old age. It was obvious that I'd have to have it skimmed, the increase in compression ratio being a useful boost to performance.
After the second rebuild I was back in the game. 100mph and searing performance, the engine sounding sublime when into its power, the kind of cackle that made young women weak at the knees and had the ancients banging their hearing aids. After a bit of practice, for the first time ever, I even became proficient in the art of pulling wheelies. The bike was, in short, turning me into a born again juvenile delinquent.
Actually, it would burble along below 5000 revs in a very mild, sedate and civilised manner, making old codgers nostalgic for their days on Scotts and Ariel Arrows. Many a commuter probably never explored the extremes of their parameters, though there wasn't any improvement in economy. As the last of Suzuki's 250 strokers, the X7 was very well developed.
I traded mine in after 11000 miles (in 14 months). I'd noticed a fierce vibration at 6000rpm and a bit of careful ear to screwdriver work on the engine convinced me that either the big-ends or main bearings were on the way out. I may have been wrong but I wasn't willing to take the chance having already had more than my fair share of hassles. Overall, a neat little motorcycle with a fiery heart but expect lots of problems even if you pay top money.
Dave Kelly
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The biggest surprise about the 500cc stroker twin was how small it was. Looked less weighty than my 250 Superdream. Strokers are always more compact than their four stroke counterparts, but the 1970 machine was incredibly narrow between my knees and felt a bit toy-townish. It smoked a little from start-up, but the oil pump had been set perfectly - five minutes later the smog cleared up nicely.
Any idea of it being a toy was soon dissipated when I went wild on the throttle. Smooth, fluid power poured in, the road ahead soon eaten up. It wasn't really wild, not really arm wrenching, but there was sufficient acceleration to get the blood flowing - made the CB250N seem like an old dog. The bike was in nice condition, despite 78000 miles on the clock and two known rebuilds.
Long ago, the suspension had been upgraded, giving a nice taut feel and excellent directional accuracy - i.e. it went where I pointed it. The only real sign of its advanced age was the way the suspension failed to soak up all the bumps and holes that make up most of modern road surfaces. The ride was redolent more of a pushbike than something with working suspension. The oddly shaped handlebars inflicted quite a lot of damage on my wrists and the bumps that got through to my backside were an unusual cure for constipation.
Despite most of the Superdream's damping being shot, its springing was perfectly suited for ruined town roads, so it took a while until I adapted to the Suzuki's ride. It was possible to upgrade the suspension with something more modern, but out of town, on a decent bit of road surface, the bike was fluid and fast. Surprisingly good, given its age and mileage - but then I'm used to old hacks not prime meat.
The gearbox was incredibly slick and the engine full of power, from just above tickover right up eight grand. The lack of vibration was also surprising, given that there weren't any balancers in the engine and that it was bolted down without any rubber mounting - the previous owner told me he'd had to drill out the old mounting bolts because they had corroded into the engine cases! The new bolts were slightly larger in diameter than stock and well greased - he'd advised me to take them out every couple of months to grease them up again. This attention to detail's typical of T500 owners who tend to be rabid enthusiasts.
The bike was also fitted with electronic ignition and a new set of carbs, so it didn't need much attention, ran with the slight wail of straight cut gears and the crackle of a stroker mill on song. The hardest acceleration in top was between 75 and 95mph, which was also a useful indication of the cruising range. Top speed was 115mph in normal conditions, but with a following wind or downward stretch it would slowly creep up to 120mph, when a slight weave crept in. Basically, the bike telling me to back off. Even when stretched to the limit, vibration never reached the levels of the Superdream.
Even more surprising was the front TLS drum. This was relined, had newish shoes and a new cable, so was probably as good if not better than new. Compared to the disc brakes - neglected, leaking, warped discs, pads down to the metal, etc - the front drum was brilliant! It needed a bit of muscle but had a degree of feedback that I'd never experienced before, allowing heavy braking that was also safe. It wasn't affected by bad weather, acid rain or roads awash with salt; a revelation after a series of dodgy discs.
In contrast, the rear SLS drum was too powerful, locking up the back wheel. Taking it all apart revealed a carcinogenic level of asbestos dust and shoes down to their rivets. The new shoes I bought were a very tight fit, the back wheel barely able to turn for the first few hundred miles. When it was bedded in, the on/off action returned with a vengeance. Engine braking was minimal, so safe stopping in treacherous conditions had to rely on the luckily sensitive front brake; not ideal.
One area where the T500 was slightly lacking was in weight distribution. There seemed to be more mass over the front than the back wheel, the latter going into some wild skids when the road surface turned into gravel or over patches of oil and diesel. At one point I thought the whole bike was going to turn right round, only when the diesel ran out did the bike wriggle back on to line.
This was much more prevalent after about 1200 miles of ownership, when the swinging arm bearings started to wear out. Some plastic rubbish! I had some phosphor-bronze replacements made up by a mate of a mate - these are far more durable and self-lubricating. The swinging arm's a flimsy steel structure with naff chain adjusters but the bike weighs only 400lbs and the power doesn't cause too much trauma. I can't afford it, but lust after one of those alloy jobs with eccentric chain adjusters.
A little while after that I read in the UMG about wheel hub's cracking up on old machines, decided to check my bike over. Sure enough, the rear drum's casting had some hairline cracks. These were welded up by the same guy who did the swinging arm bearings, with the assurance that it was better than new. The vicious on/off action was intensified, suggesting the hub might've been warped by the heat of the welding torch. Leave well alone in the wet.
The aircooled engine could also run a bit hot in constant town riding. It never seized but the plugs would sometimes foul, the engine stuttering a few times, catch and then crackle up the road. Never on one wheel, but it did jerk my arms a bit when it caught. All good fun unless I forgot to change the plugs (every 1000 miles, or so) when it could stall and refuse to start for a few minutes. I couldn't believe how annoyed the cagers got at the dead motorcycle in the way of their five yard forward surge. Some people!
Other signs of the bike's age were the way the frame would spit out rust when it rained, the odd cable seizing or breaking, and the electrics giving some trouble. The latter was down to a burnt out rectifier and the odd bit of insulation falling off. The ignition side of the circuit had been rewired when the electronic ignition was fitted, so the bike never left me stranded in the middle of nowhere.
I preferred to ride the Superdream in the winter - I always fell off and the Honda was already a total rat, could roll down the road a few times without much further damage inflicted on it. The T500, in contrast, was a classic Jap with the potential of off-loading it for a large pile of dosh. Potential and reality were rather different, though, the market for these old Jap's is very limited - if you keep at it you may get lucky but for most of the time no-one bothers to phone if prices are high. The T500's previous owner had started off at two grand and sold it to me for £800 some six months later. Few people will pay over a grand even for something immaculate. If you advertise one at £750, though, you'll have a horde of the great unwashed making a path for your house.
Having owned the T500 for a year, done 4500 miles, I'm not keen on selling, though. It looks like an antique but its on the road performance is surprisingly modern once you adapt to the rough ride (which probably isn't so bad on stock suspension, but then the handling goes a little odd) - certainly up to the milder 400-500 twins.
As long as you buy one with a good motor, either low mileage or rebuilt. 50,000 miles is claimed as possible but old ones have usually been thrashed and rebuilt, at least once. Signs of a good engine are pretty obvious - lack of smoke and vibes, plus a good power kick. Some of them are well bodged, with seized in bolts, dying suspension and even cracks in the frame (check the steering head, shock mounts and area around the engine bolts). Find a good one and you won't regret it.
Fred Wheatly
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