|
|
Bomb Proof Mill
By PeteG
Yamaha
FZX 750
Ah, the 1980's. It seems so long
ago now, New Romantics, Punks, FM rock, spiky hair and a proper Labour
Party, It was a time of experimentation and a time for odd clothing
fashions. Good times as I recall, playing Heavy Metal in a selection of
bands, riding my bike and trying to 'Roger' anything that looked vaguely
female. But on the other hand there were some fashion disasters and total
mingers about. Black plimsolls with ankle socks? British Leyland Cars? Any
record by Tina Turner or Cher? And square motorbike headlights? The latter
was probably the worst thing a designer could do to a bike, someone puts
his heart and sole into designing a bike to look just the part and then
decides to add the classic 80's transport icon - the square headlight. It
may look good on the cab of a truck, it wasn't
such a crime on the front of a Jaguar XK40 but on a
bike? It seemed to me it was the easiest way to make it
look odd - and in a bad way. I remember seeing a chopper in one
of the more 'masculine' mags, hand built by a giant of a
man with lots of facial hair. It had taken him 3 years of
his life and thousands of pounds, it was awash with chrome, you
could swim in the paint it was so deep, but he had failed to see
the cruelty of the square headlight. He had fitted not one but two, one above the other.
In one fell swoop he had crumbled the pedestal on which the bike was
standing by making it look
so dated.
The trend of
the square headlight stayed on with some manufacturers way into the nineties and beyond, making
me cringe every time I saw a GS1000 or a Ducati Panta.
I longed for proper bikes with proper 'Round' lights, the spherical perfection, the
encompassing shape of the globe, the unsullied beauty of the image of
the Sun. Eventually, after treatment and a lot of passed water under some bridge or
other, I recovered and was able to buy square loaves, play with dice and look at my
computer screen again, the horror of the square headlight long since banished to mopeds
and scooters. I slept soundly
at night.
One summer morning in
2007, I was asked to try out a friends new bike. "What is it?" I
asked. "A Yam FZX750." she replied. "Never heard of it." said I. "Not many around," she replied.
"It's based on the FZ 750." "Great." I beamed. "I'll just pull on my
leathers and I'll give it
a spin."
As I approached from the bikes flank I
did a double take, for a moment I thought it was a
VMAX, then glancing forward to the engine I could see the FZ in-line
four leaning at a jaunty angle, but even so, this bike looked very
much like a VMAX if a little smaller. Then as I moved to the front
of the bike I saw it. Mounted in front of the top
yoke sat a grinning square headlight. I went into a state of panic,
the nineteen eighties flashed before my eyes, a mixture of pixie boots
and hair spray set to a Duran Duran track. I steadied myself and sat on
the bike to gain my composure. I looked into one of the mirrors and to my amazement
all I saw was my own ageing face and bloodshot eyes. "Time I took
this bike for a ride."
I frowned.
People who know me know well that I am
not a great fan of cruisers. It's not that I dislike them, I just haven't
found one that goes round corners yet. This FZX kind of looked a bit
cruiserish, well not cruiserish but .... well I don't know. It felt like a
normal roadster from the seat and when I pressed the starter it sounded
great. Looking down there was an American/cruiser type display on the tank
but apart from that it felt like a roadster or even a Streetfighter type.
Into gear and pull away with the tight note of the FZ engine singing out
in a silky smooth delivery of power. The first
horror I perceived from this bike was immediate. The handlebars are secured by
two risers from the top yoke but these risers have rubber bushes in
them which 'give' somewhat and make the bars feel like they are made of chocolate.
It's kind of like riding a horse with reins made from elastic
bands. Then came the first corner, cold tyres so I kept it clean
and simple but something felt odd. I wasn't sure what it was
at first but after two more corners I could feel the bike wanting to steer
very shallow as the thing leaned into the bend. Unless you are concentrating the bike wants to
go into the kerb and that little old lady is gonna' be really unfriendly
if I make her drop
her shopping.
Out onto the open roads of Lincolnshire the horrors came in pairs, or
so it seemed. Faster cornering made the bike lurch as I returned the
power out of the bend and anything over 55 mph made cornering more
like a frenzied attack from a jelly wielding belly dancer than anything to do with
motorcycling. I decided to stop and examine the tyres. Pressure correct, nice
and warm and the Pirelli on the rear felt quite sticky. What the
hell is wrong then? After another five or six steady miles I
decide to 'make it have it' and try some fast riding. In a straight line
the bike pulls well and feels great, gearbox is smooth and responsive, engine sounds a treat, even
if it is a little gagged by the stock can. Then I entered a
long sweeping bend at around
80 mph.
I have never been good at dancing. When
I was a schoolboy I had lessons by a 'Miss Goodge'. Miss Goodge was a
spinster who was brought up by her mother on a strict diet of bible,
suffering and Caster Oil and her loss at never having a man when she was younger had a dispiriting effect.
This frustration surfaced every time she had a young boy for dancing lessons
and dance after miserable dance saw her becoming more and more robust in
her movements. By the end of the lesson, the poor pupil was almost crushed to
death by the grip of a frustrated Fox-Trotting she-virgin and smelled heavily
of lavender. At 80 mph on the A157 just outside Louth, the dubious
skills learned by the forceful will of Miss Goodge were used to
their full effect for the first time. I have never done the Rumba on a
bike until that day and I hope to god I never have to again. To my knowledge
there is no Lavender growing by the side of the A157 but I tell
you now, I smelled it
that day.
I hung on until the corner subsided and
a straight came in to view. I slowed down and began to wonder what in
Satan's name could make the bike plummet into a low level ‘tank slapper’
all the way through the corner. Back at base I armed myself with a tape
measure, stared the bike right into it’s one menacing square eye and said,
"Now then, this won’t hurt." Two quick measurements down the forks and along the ground were
enough to give me the answer to the Rumba Riddle. Trail. Just one
little word but it speaks volumes. The trail of the bike and the
rake of the forks make the bike a cruiser. It doesn’t matter a damn what
the bike looks like, it’s a cruiser, that’s why it’s great in
a straight line but rank when you get to a corner. Some people
call these bikes ‘Mini Max’s’ I thought because of the way they
look but I swear they handle just about as badly as the VMAX. If you
gave a hand held GPS with no batteries to a drunk standing on a trampoline and asked
him the way to Amarillo you would just about be able to recreate the
road-holding and directional stability of
the FZX.
What annoys me is
that it’s a shame. With this engine and the fact that apart
from the dodgy headlight it looks okay, it could be a great bike. At low
speed it even has quite good manners but at anything over 60mph it’s an angry child from
a broken home. I know these bikes have their fans, some people swear by
them but personally I can't
see why.
Good points? Stationary, it looks quite good
and the low seat height is nice for shorter riders - and that great
FZ engine is a Bomb
Proof Mill.
Bad points?
Everything else.
Text and original images copyright of
the author. © 2007 Tricky
Imp Productions
|
|
