Ben’s First Million

Purchase	Make and Model		Comment	Km	Total
14.1.’80	Kawasaki Z200 (new)	$1180	1^st bike St	40,000	40,000
16.4.’82	Kawasaki GPz550 (new)	$2600	new from Peter Stevens	93,000	133,000
30.1.’83	Honda 250 N		loan bike	1200	134,200
3.5.’86	Honda CBX550, Kawasaki GT550		3 months touring Western Europe	20,000	154,200
11.10.’84	Kawasaki GPz900A2 (’85)	$5050	new	147,500	301,700
27.11.’87	BMW K100RS	$7543	s/h with 18,000 km	6,000	307,700
12.7.88	Kawasaki GPz900A1 (’84)	$2,700	s/h with 10,300 km	21,300	329,000
19.12.88	Kawasaki ZX10 (’88)	$5,130	new from K&W Bell St	177,300	506,300
30.4.93	Kawasaki KLR650 Tengai	$4,160	s/h with 6,356 km	62,304	568,600
1.3.94	Kawasaki ZXR750 J2 (’92)	$9,164	s/h with 28,789 km	20,700	589,300
29.3.95	Kawasaki ZXR750 L1 (’93)	$11,344	s/h with 6,501 km	133,932	723,230
21.5.98	Honda NX650 Dominator	$5,500	s/h with 3,450 km	21,200	744,430
22.12.00	Honda CBR929 Fireblade (’01)	$15,767	new	194,046	938,476
26.8.06	Honda CBR954 Fireblade (’02)	$5,000	s/h with 48,000 km	82,000	1,020,476

A lot happens in 28 years of continuous riding, one of the things being the accumulation of miles – now kilometres. A million in fact. What starts out as a “cheap” mode of transport rapidly becomes an obsession which over time morphs into a lifestyle. Joining the Club two years after beginning riding brought another dimension to plot – touring to far off places, riding fast, crashing frequently, meeting new people and making life long friends, seeing the world, growing up.

The list of bikes above was relatively easy to compile due to my fascination and diligence with record taking (maybe I should have been an accountant). But of course it took much more time re-reading past log books than to physically generate the list, though deciding what fields to display is difficult, given the convoluted nature of motorcycle ownership. There is often no clean start and stop date and the bikes aren’t necessarily bought and sold in chronological order. For a period there I was running multiple bikes. This article almost became all too hard and the list has sat around for a few months waiting for me to action. Taking a day off work supplied the appropriate time – with less pressure.

Reading the old log books is quite a cathartic experience. The jaded cliché, “If I only knew then what I know now!” is completely apt. There is a lot of pain in those log books.

My first bike was a Kawasaki Z200 (single cylinder, 4 stroke). I had saved up a year’s Tertiary Education Assistance Scheme (TEAS) money by travelling on the train from Montmorency to RMIT each day. The travelling and lack of independent transport was unbearable. My mother suggested I buy a motorcycle. I had never ridden one, had no mechanical experience – my father worked on the cars but I was always out playing sport and didn’t take much interest. I had no mentor. I knew no-one who owned a bike. A salesman’s delight, really. Peter Stevens sold me the Z200 and it was home delivered. In those days you could get your Ls by completing the 30 question paper. You didn’t even need to know how to ride. And I didn’t.

I crashed on the second day. After riding around and around the house, getting familiar with the clutch and gears, I was ready for a bigger loop around the block, all left turns, no blinkers. Gravel on about the third intersection. Lesson number one and the beginning of a steep learning curve.

It took me weeks, if not months to figure out how to get from 6^th gear to first, without going through each intervening gear.

One time I called the RACV because the bike stopped unexpectedly. The attending mechanic pulled out the spark plug and noted the centre electrode was completely burnt down. Apparently you have to change spark plugs. So at 26,000 km I did. In the interim, I just bent the top electrode over and into the cavity such that it would spark and hence get me home. It should have been clear then that my Electrical Engineering degree days were numbered.

The best thing about the bike was its 85 m/gal (200 km/l – I kid you not – I have the records!). The worst thing about the bike was the points ignition which was always going out of adjustment, and hence loss of power. Given the bike didn’t have much to start with, this was a real and regular problem. I had to develop a “charging” approach to passing cars by anticipating a future passing opportunity, and then accelerating (ie waiting) till I had sufficient speed and momentum to make the pass. Of course, if there was an oncoming car, I would have to brake, drop back, and start another charge. The bike had a top speed of 140 km/h, down hill with a tail wind – on a good day.

Electronic ignition was starting to appear on most new model bikes – but not the Z200. I bought a manual, and being a poor student, only partly read it (time poor, cash poor). Suffice to say I formed a long and lasting relationship with my green plastic feeler gauges.

Another endearing feature of this bike, in hindsight, was the cable operated front drum brake. Drum brakes are pathetic at the best of times, worse in the wet. This marvel was cable operated – and the cable stretches!

Favourite ride in the early days: around the Reefton Spur and back home (via Christmas Hills when it was narrow, bumpy, unpopulated and D-restricted, and no cops or radar of course) after work a few times a week. 200 km round trip. I thought no-one else in the world knew of this road. Of course, it still had 6 km of dirt near Cumberland Junction.

Somewhere at this point I started to form a deep and meaningful relationship with the police, speed the normal conversation starter. This relationship has remained strong over the journey. Though riding a black bike (green pin striping) with a circa WWII (World War Two for the youngsters) black flying jacket was an attractive combination with L’s (15 months, extended by 3 months, cheaper than going for licence) but after the 13^th police incident – mainly licence checks – I stopped counting. It is a bit like asking me how many crashes I have had. So many, I can’t remember. Though some are more memorable than others …

I noticed another person’s Z200 had the footpegs ground down. What an idea! So I set about trying to go faster around corners, the beginning of another life long quest.

At 40,000 km the Zed had to go. The clutch was slipping, the forks were bent (according to the salesman) and the bike was pretty rattly and cosmetically challenged. I had been working for a few months and started reading bike magazines – Australian Motorcycle News, Two Wheels – and a whole new world opened up. Another language, a whole culture of racing and performance. I was addicted. The Kawasaki GPz550 was released, 60 HP, air cooled, 4 cylinder, electronic ignition, relatively light, and beating the 750s. I had to have one.

Hence, my second new bike, a 1982 Kawasaki GPz550 H1, came to pass. But it wasn’t long before I had my first day in court, courtesy of the Z200 – 85km/h in a 60 zone along Rosanna Road, rushing home to get my student card which I needed to collect a printout from the “Computer Centre”. All licences were cancelled and suspended for a period of three months. Me and mum in court, purchase of a suit specifically for court appearances (hadn’t been to a funeral or wedding at that stage). Penalties were a lot harsher in those days – now it would have just been three points. It had taken 10 months to get to court. “All” included my car licence, which I didn’t get back for a few years when I needed it for work.

Getting the bike licence back was a drama because I was legally able to ride 260cc or more, having completed 3 years probationary riding, but when I failed the test (very harsh on returning speeders, failed it the next time as well) I was supposed to return to a 250cc capacity machine – since back on Ls. But they never told me! But I had already had my licence for three years? A legal anomaly! It was only when I was pulled up on a club ride on the Kew Boulevarde mid-pack and that charge of exceeding 260cc was added to the list. Another court appearance, $200 good behaviour bond.

Now back on the road I attended a Rider Awareness Ride to Tullamarine and back to the Show grounds in Flemington. The Club had a stand and I picked up an itinerary card for the next 4 months rides.

My first was Club ride was down the Grand Ridge Road on Sunday October 24^th, 1982. Reading from my ride writeup (never printed – it took me two years of private write-ups before I had enough confidence to submit one - now I am the Editor of 10 years), there were 27 bikes assembled at King’s Bridge Car Park (corner of Spencer and Flinders Streets which was our city pickup for many years until the Casino effectively annexed it). Of those 27 bikes, about 10 were BMWs, the rest big bore Japanese. Events on the ride included a speeding ticket, a head-on with a VW Golf resulting in concussions to the rider and pillion and a holed radiator on the Golf necessitating police, ambulance, and tow trucks. It was on the dirt (in the Stretzlechi Ranges) and two minor crashes – running wide on a corner – myself included. It turns out I picked the wrong guy to chase, a former racer still around called Mick Fagan. I lasted about 4 corners, despite him being two up and riding a BM. Another valuable lesson. The ride was a baptism of fire. I was hooked. Where else could you get so much adrenalin pumping action in such a short time? The speeds were mind numbing – leader and regulars 180 km/h down the Eastern Freeway (no radar) – such that I was unable to keep up and already the concept of a bigger bike was looming.

I completed eight rides in 1982 and another 34 in 1983. The 550 was my crash learning bike. I fitted engine bars and eventually had to fit another set after the originals had ground away. I crashed three times on one Great Ocean Road Ride, probably concussed after the first crash. At that point I realised I needed training fast if I was to survive this caper. The training was run by a group out of Malvern and we spent a day at Calder Raceway. I learnt all about counter steering and braking. Had a fabulous time doing figure eights and grinding away my pegs. The outcome was immediate and noticeable. I stopped falling off for stupid reasons at low speed. More training at HART (Honda Advance Rider Training) and a few Stay Upright days followed, the end result that subsequent crashes were usually at a much higher speed and much more painful.

I had got the hang of this maintenance thing by now and did all the work myself, all bar the shims – underneath bucket, underneath the cam. Of course, the bike was a quantum leap in performance and reliability: electronic ignition, twin disk brakes, fat tyres, 19 inch front wheel, Uni-Trak suspension. But it was still an aircooled clunker and it started weeping oil around the head gasket almost from new, a fact I ignored for the total life of the bike.

I had a lot of trouble with the rear shock mount on the swingarm. It fatigued and broke. Welding the bracket back on released the stresses in the swingarm causing it to twist. Reinstalling the spindle required a large chamfer to be machined onto the spindle and a hammer to drive it home. One side was lower than the other by at least half an inch. It was only after I stopped riding it for a while, then came back to it, that I realised just how bad the handling was.

One memorable crash was outside of Welshpool, where I went back to do the corners again while the others had lunch. We had travelled the full length of the Grand Ridge Road with a lot of tiring dirt road, seemingly never ending – it was just such a relief to get back on the bitumen I had to do it again. I ended up levering the back wheel off the ground when the centre stand dug in, sliding through a barb wire fence on my way down towards a creek bed. I woke up looking at the bike 2 metres above me, dripping petrol on me, motor going. I was cut under the chin by the barbed wire, decapitation narrowly avoided by the helmet strap. The benefit of a full face helmet was never more apparent. My cords were shredded, hip suffering the usual gravel rash. (I bought a full set of brown Mars leathers not long afterwards from the gay guys in Elizabeth St. They eventually rotted away!)

The bike was sort of rideable, with the usual minor cosmetic damage to the blinkers, mirrors, bent clip-ons, etc. One arm of the rear steel subframe had snapped. I limped home, by myself. It was only at Templestowe that I realised that funny sound and smell was the rear tyre eating its way through the mudguard and beyond, smoke pouring off. The rear subframe had collapsed and everything was resting on the rear tyre – for up to 250 km. Round to the bike shop for more welding.

I had already formed a relationship with Rex Wolfendon and John Budge at K&W, Bell St West Heidelberg, later to eventually become Redwing Honda. Let’s say I was a frequent customer. I had a tab – a running bill. Credit before credit cards. Sometimes as high as a $1000. The tyre machine and I were about to form a close bond in the years to come, we just didn’t know it yet.

The time is 1984 and the Suzuki GSXR750 is released soon followed by the Kawasaki GPz900. Full fairings, liquid cooling, thermatic fans, 4 valve heads, massive horsepower, light weight, 16 inch front wheel, 4 piston callipers (as compared to single piston). The 550 now had over 90,000 km and was knackered after two and a half years hard riding with the Club. It was time.

I bought my third new bike at K&W, despite Peter Stevens being $50 cheaper. (I had finally worked out the relationship between service, locality and price, and what was most important.) It was a Kawasaki GPz900RA2 (’85 model) in October 1984, blue and silver. I was immediately 20 km/h faster everywhere, the handling was that much improved, if somewhat harsh at the rear. It was the dream bike of the times, and nearly everyone had one or wanted one. At one point there were about 5 in the Club. The bike was quickly trumped by the Yamaha FZR 750 and 1000s, fore runners to the YZF and then R1 and R6 series. Nevertheless, the GPz900 model run went for 10 years, more or less unchanged except getting less and less power due to more and more restrictive exhausts, a change to 17 inch wheels and better brakes.

Kawasaki quality control was not that flash back then. As I was doing so many kilometres each year, I generally encountered manufacturing faults much earlier than the general public. Hence, when I presented with various faults, it was either a “one-off”, “never heard of before”, or as a “result of crash damage”. And almost never covered by warranty.

At 20,000 km I presented with rusted out exhaust pipes (i.e. after less than six months). The idea of short trips, low km didn’t really fly. Kawasai replaced them. The carburettor diaphragms used to twist and cause the carburation to go all fluffy. Left too long they would tear. Kawasaki were always in denial, yet a few models later the diaphragms appeared with locating tangs, stopping the twisting. I noticed other manufacturers also had the locating tangs.

Subframes supporting the front fairings would fatigue and crack. I think I got three replaced under warranty, and then welded up the following ones. The heavy instruments were mounted on long stalks that would flex, eventually fatiguing the steel mounting bracket. Nearly every bike I saw had this area welded up.

At 35,000 km the cam chain tensioners would go. If not caught early, then the cam chain would stretch as well necessitating replacement. The tensioner ran out of travel because the damper rubber had a dimple, which enlarged over time using up all the tensioner travel. The eventual Kawasaki fix was to replace the damper blades with dimple free ones. I ended up getting my friends at Physics to add 13 mm throw to the tensioners by bronze welding a bit on the end. I used to offer a change-over service to other owners. That fixed the problem once and for all.

The front disks would warp at 30-35,000 km. The design was poor as the disk was bolted directly to the wheel and when hot had nowhere to go other than warp. In theory they should have returned to their original shape but over time a minor shudder became a severe pulsing through the brake lever. My ultimate fix was to install a set of fully floating disks which rattled like crazy, but didn’t warp. Unfortunately they weren’t designed for 100,000 km of road riding and the aluminium carriers wore so badly that I had to prevail upon my friend in the Physics workshop to build me another set of carriers, reusing the disks. At the end, one of the disks was down to 2.8 mm in thickness. Modern bikes are deemed unroadworthy if the disk thickness is less than 4.5 mm!

One of the great things about the motor was that the valve lash adjustment was by screw and locknut. The bad thing was they needed doing every 5,000 km, despite the service intervals saying 12,000 km or similar. But I got pretty good at it. By this time I had moved from air vacuum gauges to a home made set of mercury gauges, so sychronising the carbies, something that always appeared to be a black art only achievable at a shop service, was a synch. The good thing was, the carbies stayed in tune for at least 30,000 km and hence I rarely bothered anyway, another benefit of CV carbs.

At this stage in my riding I was starting to think about suspension. In particular the front end was soggy. One trick to stiffening up the front end is to cut off some of the spring and replace it with a spacer. This works so long as you leave enough spring to avoid coil binding at full compression. Luckily, the fork springs were long in those days and this was a cheap and effective fix, though not widely advertised by suspension selling people – no money in it. Of course, nowadays with front springs so short, the only option is to replace the springs with heavier duty ones. I probably went too far as it was a hell of a battle to get the fork cap screwed back down, but it was a heavy bike (228 kg claimed dry weight, more like 250 wet).

A couple of funny crashes spring to mind … To be continued.

Ben Warden