| Brilliant white light flooded the garage in
which stood the Suzuki VX8OO. Immaculate Conception didn't come into it! That kinda sickle. Sick in its way, a five year old with just 7000 miles on its clock. Looked every inch as if it had just stepped out of the showroom. Even the tyres were new but original fare. Some people. The test ride revealed that it was a bike full of character. A luscious vee-twin of the old school, revelling in torque rather than power and getting most of its kicks over by 6000rpm. A strangely elongated motorcycle, it could usefully have lost six inches off its wheelbase, but it threw a good bit of stability into the mix and the relatively lowly mounted engine, narrow in aspect, meant that it could be controlled without excessive muscle. The deal came down to the price, which was excessive, but with a bit of bargaining and having the notes on me, meant that I ended up paying two grand instead of the three originally demanded. It had been in the papers for couple of months, so desperation was probably setting in. I rode home with the biggest grin you could imagine, finding it hard to believe that so little money could go so far in motorcycle terms. The big rumbling vee was quite invigorating, somewhat at odds with its chassis which was best described as stately in its dynamics. About half a mile from the house reality hit home - hard! At a junction the engine made some odd noises, then spluttered and stalled dead. A big vee-twin doesn't gently come to a halt but crunches fiercely. Made me think the engine had actually seized. Black of heart and dark of spirit. I was well relieved when she spun over fluidly on the starter. It didn't catch for a couple of minutes, when she did it was on the front cylinder first. Discordant and vibratory until the back cylinder finally chimed in. I wound the throttle open to tell her who was boss and things soon settled down again.Made it back home, then she conked out and didn't want to start. At this point it dawned on me that I might've bought a lemon. A spark plug swap didn't do any good. The day after she started first time, and hummed a prayer to mechanical precision. Bloody odd, thought I, but she did a 200 mile round trip without complaint. The next day she conked out at a junction. It was then that I realised the fault only occurred when I swung the bars to the left. Bingo! A loose connector the culprit. Any normal person would've called it quits at this point, and just be happy to have solved the problem. But I had to delve a little deeper. Careful examination of the forks revealed they had been straightened! Immediately, I had visions of them snapping at 90mph and being thrown down the road as cage fodder. I had a mechanic look them over and he reckoned it was a good job and shouldn't be a problem... unless I hit some-thing hard, when they might well snap off! Death City. Apart from these downs I actually liked the bike a lot and decided to take a chance on the front end. Many meanderings followed, the VX is a type that's very relaxing and laid back to ride yet rather competent at the same time. It took a bit of getting used to in he bends, the back end had a very direct feel yet it also seemed just a little bit hinged in the middle when the road turned rough. But I could ride through the rear wheel's machinations without anything negative going down. Despite the straightened forks, the front end was very secure and well placed on the road. Comfort was close to excellent as long I kept below 95mph, a speed that suddenly conjured up a serious gale. The bike could actually put 120mph on its clock but comparisons with friends' bikes revealed that this was more like 110mph in harsh reality. Vibes hit the chassis at about 105mph, thrumming through the cycle parts but it was more an annoyance than anything that was likely to break components. I soon came to depend on the Suzuki, absolutely convinced that it was totally bullet proof. This was borne out by one 450 mile-in-a-day-trip, at the end of it the bike ticking over as if it'd just stepped out of the garage rather than hurtling through a gale force storm and almost being tossed off the side of a mountain. The actual level of protection afforded by the VX was minimal, if anything the rain seemed intensified by the machine's ergonomics - or lack thereof - and unless I wore some decent waterproofs I was soaked through. Even with the Barbour suit on, after more than an hour of intense rain would have water seeping through the crotch and chest. The suit was pretty old but had never failed before. Other limits of the machine's practicality were a lack of seat comfort after about 125 miles but squirming around and standing on the pegs sufficed until the fuel ran out (60mpg possible on the open road) and the walk to the kiosk to pay for the fuel revived my limbs. After 450 miles, I was staggering around a bit and could've got top billing in a gay revue. Not that I'd ever want to do such a thing, of course. It took 18000 miles of riding before something went wrong - as might be half expected on a Suzuki, the Electric's. Usually, they just fail but on mine a minor fire spread through the chassis! This was down to some moron replacing the main fuse with a nail! I don't know if the molten mess of a rectifier was original fare or not as it was damaged beyond recognition. Panels, lots of wiring and a scorched engine were included amongst the casualties. Breakers had never heard of it happening like that before so it was probably a combination of the alternator burning out and non-standard components, plus the stupid nail... an expensive nail, as it cost about 150 quid to fix it properly. It didn't bear thinking about, riding around with Electric's that could burn out at any moment, which would have been the case if I bodged it. The bike then ran nicely until 33,500 miles were on the clock when the engine sounded like it was going to explode. It happened very suddenly, one moment it was bliss on earth - sort of - the next it was hell in a basket full of roses. Or a rolling basket case. I wondered what the f**k had gone down, all my loyalty to the machine going out of the window as the debacle occurred in the middle of the Scottish Highlands - and I mean the middle! The motor didn't actually lock up but it sounded so terminal that I switched the ignition off and pulled over. I looked at the engine hoping for some easy inspiration but it didn't come. Pushing 5OOlbs of heavy metal halfway across Scotland wasn't my idea of a holiday (other than in hell) but I finally found a telephone that worked - I thought it was a mirage; I was that far-gone. To cut an extremely long and expensive story short, the back cylinder had developed a case of disintegrating camshaft lobes. Nasty that. The mechanic accused me of using cheap oil, something I denied vehemently but I must admit I did leave the oil for about 6000 miles on one occasion and the filter for about twice that. Another sortie into the modern hell known as the breakers sorted it out. For long enough to sell! A kind of madness followed. At first, I was elated at deposing of what was threatening to turn into a very troublesome and expensive motorcycle but a couple of hours after doing a celebratory jig I was deep in depression. The bike had actual gotten to me! Deeply! Of course, this realisation coincided with a total scarcity of Suzuki VX8OO's for sale on both the private and trade circuit. I then went through, in an amazingly short period, several Honda Vee-four customs. Actually I'm too embarrassed to go into the details (which must be a first for an UMG contributor). The most memorable moment was when I seized one of the abortions at 90mph, a speed, incidentally, that had the monster all over the shop. You really don't want to seize some overweight monster cruiser at silly speeds. Well, there's a kind of cruel irony to it all that will appeal to the more sadistic readers - it's always worth spreading some doom and disaster around the world just for the kicks, baby, especially when it's the world's leading manufacturer of motorcycles that's involved. Anyway the back wheel went into a half-mile long skid before I hit on the clutch, leading to massive heart trauma, a blown back tyre and an off-road intrusion that involved destruction of nearly half an acre of some farmers field and hedgerow. There was so much momentum involved that it's like being atop a charging rhino, or at least how you would imagine it would be to be atop a charging rhino in your worst night-mares. Frightening enough to have me to-totally out of my head on lager later in the night! What was left of the Honda was rolled into the town centre some time later, a match thrown into its petrol tank and the burning sculpture left to confuse the pigs. Which has nothing to do with me claiming for a stolen motorcycle on the insurance, officer. I don't know why I kept buying these Honda vee-fours, other than that the imports were cheap, but when another VX came up I was in there like a vampire after a virgin coming into heat. Which must be totally wicked, if you think about it. Took a huge loss on the PX but at least I'd bought a three year old with a totally unbelievable 2976 miles on the clock. And I knew enough about the bastards to know that it was a genuine piece of paradise. So there you go, in a rather strange and paradoxical way, VX8OO's are the business.
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