After going through the steps of owning a few newer bikes and once resurrecting (me mostly cosmetically, others more mechanically) a HD Sportster, I got to the point that I felt, I need and older mid size bike for city riding.
Going through about 3 million *@%^$*@%^$*@%^$*@%^$ty or overpriced options on the internet marketplaces IÂ’ve found this whip:
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What I know about it:
It runs, it wasnÂ’t inspected in the last 12 years, previous owner never rode it, but put a lot of work into making it a cafe racerish bike, it has a bit of a high idle issue (which might be an air leak or a wrong setting), the throttle sticks, the breaks are spongy as hell, the tacho cable is broken, itÂ’s loud AF, and it put a crazy smile on my face when I got it home.
The short story of it getting home:
Found it on FB marketplace for $1500 which started around $2000 abouth a month before. Went to look at it. Previous owner told me there was someone there about an hour ago, who is interested, but wants to bring his mechanic to make sure. So I looked it around, took it for a 200 meter spin and told the guy IÂ’ll think about it and get back to him in an hour. And left for a nice dinner. Mid dinner I got a msg that heÂ’ll give the bike to me for $1350 because he thinks I really would take care of it. I said yes.
Comes this Monday when I went to pick up the GS. I asked a friend to bring a trailer and help me out. I pay, we try to get the title on my name immediately, but the line is too long, so we decide weÂ’ll deal with that later during the week. (I have the title in my hand, but have to get it notarized due to state law) I had a plate from a previous bike, which has an expired registration sticker from 2019, an inspection sticker on the bike which says 2009 and a title on someone elseÂ’s name and a bike that hasnÂ’t been properly ridden in the last 12-13 years. What could go wrong? IÂ’m only 30-40 minutes from home, so letÂ’s ride home!
About 5 minutes in I pass the local police station. Noone comes after us, so it’s good. I’m starting to realize that Suzuki created an engineering marvel with this bike, it made ABS before anyone knew what that could be. There’s no way to push/pull/kick/pray enough stopping power into this bike to block any wheels. Also I realize that it can accelerate much better than decelerate. (To the point that I could even surprise another friend who came to escort me home on his GT1000 Duc by “blasting” past him, and scaring the *@%^$*@%^$*@%^$*@%^$ out of him with the loudness of the baffleless exhaust)
Everything is fine so far, IÂ’m enjoying the randomness and unpredictable behavior of the new bike. About this is the point when we encounter a bunch of police flares on the road and go by a few cops who give me nasty looks about my loud pipes, but donÂ’t stop me, because they are preoccupied by separating two wrecks which look like they grew together by the collision theÂ’ve been in. ThereÂ’s this little thought in my head that probably I would have had a few hours of anxious explaining if they stopped me with this completely not street legal bike, but hey, they didnÂ’t and the weather is so nice and the tank is still half full.
So we continue riding. Through a few small towns, on windy roads in the forest, beside a river, up a hill. And almost into a line of stopped cars. The instinct almost kicks in to just go by them when I see the reason they are stopped. A police checkpoint. About 2 miles from home. I’m done, no way I go through cops again and not getting caught. I look around and to the left, 100 yards from the checkpoint there’s a “no outlet“ sideroad. I take it, while one of the cops is staring at me and tries to figure out how could a bike this small give a sound this big. After the first turn on it I stop, get off the bike, if the cops come after me at least they donmt catch me on the bike, I might have a better start to bull*@%^$*@%^$*@%^$*@%^$ myself out of this. They don’t come. But my firend with the trailer does. We put the bike up, stretch it down. She wants to put 3 more straps on the bike to secure it very safely (I don’t blame her, she usually transports much more expensive track bikes) while I’m explaining to her that as soon as we pass the checkpoint we’ll take the bike down and I’ll ride it home on the last 2 miles. I want to ride it into my garden, not tow it like a sad useless pile of junk. We spend about 15-20 minutes with the whole thing (turning the trailer on the small dead-end, figuring out what to do, etc.). And off we go.
20 yards.
To see that the cops packed up and left. So I tell her to stop. I undo the straps, roll the bike off the trailer and back on the saddle again I ride home. In one piece. With a 40 year old bike. (That hasnÂ’t been on the road for the last 12 for sure.) And a great story to tell.
Now comes the “fun” part of fixing whatever I can and learning how not to kill myself when I switch between this bike and my other one which has proper handling and actual brakes 😂
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