Suzuki GT380.

I never really had any intention of buying a Suzuki GT380. After all I had heard of the sad propensity of the middle pot to self destruct, the way they wallowed into corners, the appalling fuel consumption, need I go on ? However, One had come up at a price I could afford and as I had never owned a bike larger than 250cc before, I went to see it. It was surprisingly shiny and everything seemed to be in order except for the need for a battery so I parted with my hundred pounds and rode away with a car battery strapped to the rack.
First impressions were good. It accelerated ferociously , front wheel pawing at the air. It was only when I got to the first real bend on the way home that I realised that not all of the tales told were apocryphal. It plunged into the grass verge with all aplomb of a rhino on ice and it only due to good fortune that it behaved somewhat like a wall of death bike and eventually returned to the road surface when I had shed enough speed. I kicked the sidestand down where I had stopped and retired two yards up the bank to have a cigarette and contemplate the beast below. I rode very gently home and gave it the best going over it had probably had in its life. I was convinced I was going to find some mechanical horror, such as broken up swing arm bearings or wheel bearings, even a cracked frame.
After two hours I had to admit defeat. There was nothing wrong it. It was as the factory had designed it. It really did handle like a greased pig on LSD.
Never mind I told myself, it was cheap and I could enjoy the acceleration. The following day I purchased a battery for it and installed it as soon as I got home from work. With all the power of a new battery it could now be seen that the gear indicator worked. That cheered me up no end. I certainly would be lost without one of those stuck between the clocks. (Heavy sarcasm). It was a pleasant evening so I took it out for a ride . It must be said that the removal of 20 pounds of lead and acid from the rear did improve the handling a bit, but not so much that I could forget the GP100�s and the like cruising past me on any corner you care to mention. I had done about twenty or so miles on it when my worst fears got up on the pillion behind me and bit me... hard.
I was gently cruising around a bend, slowly, balancing power input against angle of lean and road speed, (As you do ) , when the handlebars took a dive for the road surface. the power output from the engine had dropped significantly. At first I thought I was out of petrol, But I had only done about 30 miles since 1 had picked it up with a full tank. No, It was the dreaded center pot syndrome. I managed to wobble out of the bend without falling off, nailed the throttle to the stop to get some sort of acceleration out of the remaining two cylinders, and nearly flew into a nearby hedgerow as full power cut back in at 8000 rpm in second gear. I know it was second because the gear indicator all but broke my nose as the front wheel attempted the first non-rocket propelled moon launch.
The bike continued to behave this way all the way home. Unfortunately by this time the GT was my only transport as the other bike in my life had spread its valvegear all over its piston crowns. I rode it to work every day and spent every evening of that first week attempting to find the fault. At the weekend it was traced to a faulty vacuum fuel ap starving the center pot of petrol. A second hand tap was procured and the fault was cured, Hurrah. Time for another ride.
All went ok and for 4 months we had relative bliss. It was a truce situation all the way down the line. If I promised not to go round corners fast,it promised not to throw me off, If I promised to fill it with petrol every two days, it promised never run out in an awkward place (28 mpg was the best I ever managed). If I promised to keep an eye on the fuel tap and sundry piping it promised not to cut out on the center pot. Well it broke that one quite frequently actually. You could never be quite sure which of the 1001 faults was causing the good old center pot problem. Some times it cut completely, some times it misfired, sometimes the fault moved from the center to left or right as you were investigating it. Sometimes the fault affected all 3 cylinders simultaneously and I would come to a grinding It in the middle of nowhere. (only for me to return to it 8 hours later and have it restart first kick). misty eyed nostalgists call it �Character�, I called it a bastard. For all faults, it was an exciting bike to own. It really did accelerate very quickly indeed. At least that�s what I thought �til the day I was completely humiliated by a CX500 from my favourite drag strip/traffic lights. The reason Was, it felt so smooth being a triple, that it gave the impression of going quicker than it actually was. After that it had to go. Not only was it an overweight, petrol guzzling, unsafe, slow LIAR , it was also starting to rattle ... ominously.
I advertised it nobody rang. I let it be known that the beast was for sale, but to no avail. The rattle got so bad after I had owned it for 6 months that I parked it outside my house ready to let it rot.
One fine evening after a day spent getting drunk in the local hostelry, I was returning home with a friend to sample the years first bottle of homebrew. As I turned in through my front gate he enquired politely about the heap of wreckage that he was standing behind. Ever eager to please I offered a demonstration.
I switched on the ignition and gave a hefty swing on the kickstart. It started first time as usual and settled down to a lumpy rattle. �It doesn�t sound too bad� he shouted above the din. What do you know I thought, you ride Triumphs I. I revved it for further emphasis and the engine chose that moment to give up the ghost. With a Bang that could be heard for miles the center pot blew the baffles out of both of its exhaust pipes and showered my unfortunate friend with pieces of red hot piston ring fragments. And piston. And bits of Crankshaft. I sold what remained the next day for 20 quid to a total stranger who thought he could repair it. He ended up buying another engine for it.
I never want to see another one again, and if there is any justice I never will.