(Original article and images from 2000 written for UGB - Edited 2024)
There are very few times that I can admit to walking around with a reasonable amount of disposable income in my pockets. This is due in part to being disinterested in money or the acquisition of it, and to the main fact that I have constantly retained some sort of relationship to the opposite sex. In the use of the term ‘opposite sex’, I am referring to the only other sex I am aware of (female) and not one of the myriad of ‘identify myself with’ crew. I suppose there is the option of hermaphrodites, but they tend do their own thing.
I digress. Though a pocket full of cash doesn’t come visiting very often, there have been those times in the backwaters of my mind where I recall such euphoric moments of pleasure which inevitably led to me suddenly standing in a motorcycle shop without any idea how I got there.
There is a particular smell to these places and I don’t know if it’s the whiff of rubber mixed with plastic and oil, or the aroma of leather and Kevlar with a mix of biker’s beards. It could even be a special spray used by the shop designed to relax the grip of the prospective buyer on his/her purse strings. Whatever causes it, the ‘twang’, it is unique and unmistakable.
These shops usually come complete with the salesperson, invariably trained to sniff out a pocket full of beer tokens and a gullible customer, like a lion tracking down a gazelle. Ever ready with anecdotes and a ready story why the last owner parted with his treasured bike, and how much life there is still in the machine, they relentlessly patrol the shop floor waiting to strike like a viper and unleash their venom on the unsuspecting victim, until the customer is dazed and paralysed with the unbridled confusion from the sales pitch.
Then, when the poor defenceless customer is as confused as a young nun in a fish market, the kill is made. No blood is spilled but several thousand pounds are effortlessly extracted from the limp customer into the till with the realisation that a new bike is being readied for its new owner. Then, and only then, does he become aware of what he has done. That isn’t to say that the customer is totally helpless and to those around him the main question would be, “Did he jump or was he pushed?” The only act left to this customer is to consider if he needs to add to the bill by purchasing some new kit to suit the bike, and to think of something clever to tell ‘the other half.’
To be fair, concerning the story I am about to relate, it was another customer and not the salesperson who set in motion the acquisition of a new motorcycle. You have to understand, this story took place some years ago now and at the time the Yamaha XJR 1200 wasn’t quite as long in the tooth as it is considered now, and I was quite taken in by it. I have never been a great fan of Yamahas and am still not but this particular bike looked the business and I suddenly found myself seated upon it in one of the many shop windows. Someone watching this, casually sidled up to me and whispers those immortal words, “if you like that mate, have a gander in the other window.” I know in this context, gander wasn’t referring to a male goose and so I did as he suggested, simply out of curiosity.
As an aside, you may or may not be aware that there are many collective nouns for geese. On the ground it is a gaggle but when in flight it can be called a skein, a team or a plump. It can also be a wedge, which was poignant as I was about to lose one. A wedge that is, not a goose. The bike that I was seeing was something I had heard of but not considered purchasing. It was a Suzuki GSX 1400 and though many people have told me since that the blue and white one is the best colour, this one was just blue. It was big and looked heavy but I passed my keg over the seat and asked it to impress me. It did but we were interrupted by the inevitable salesperson and we had to go through the anecdotal reason they had the bike up for sale. I was already suspicious as it was a year old and yet had just 500 miles on the clock. The salesperson said this was due to the original owner being an RAF pilot and wanted the bike for thrills but it scared him… Yeah, right. I can just see the scenario in my mind. Pilot seated in Eurofighter Typhoon, the most advanced combat aircraft in the world, employs the afterburner and reached the top speed of 1,550 mph then jinks left and then right over the blurred landscape below, hills and lakes flashing by in the blink of an eye, literally. Same pilot leaving the aircraft behind and slaps his leg over his motorcycle but then hesitates. “0 – 60 mph in 3.2 seconds? I don’t think so, I’ll get the bus.” It was like telling me that Buzz Aldrin was scared of riding on trams.
I think I left a lot of salt on the floor at that point but the bike did impress me. At the time, I had been without a bike for a while as I had moved house, etc, etc, (insert suitable excuse here) and this great brute of a bike that was described as a Muscle Bike seemed a little daunting. But to cut the long story short, I shelled out what seemed to be the coffers of a small African country and was suddenly wondering if I had made a big mistake. As it turned out, I had not.
Looking back from this far in the future, and being a proponent of sportsbikes in all their glorious shapes and sizes, having a naked bike seems slightly perverse. But back then, it was what I was used to. What I wasn’t used to was the sheer power of the thing and once I was out of the town the bike became a dream to ride and over the next two years I was hardly ever off that seat.
Okay, it’s called a muscle bike because of the torque and the raw thrust of the massive machine putting down plenty of rubber from that 190/50 rear tyre, but that is only part of the story. The bike is stable under this power and on one occasion with a passenger on the rear, I accidently pulled a mono going round a tight bend but was able to steer it easily all the same. I did consider a career in the circus after that but wasn’t crazy about the uniform.
Keeping the front down was tricky on occasions, particularly two up but once you got used to how to bring the power on, it felt as stable and safe as any bike I have ever ridden. The handling was good too for such a big machine (at just over 500 lbs) and it gave me loads of feel in the twisties even when the surface was wet. In a straight line it was supreme and at the time I was doing quite a bit of motorway work in which the bike excelled, the speed being limited to the usual strains encountered from a naked bike. The brakes too matched the bike and even in the few emergencies I encountered, I never felt that the bike wouldn’t stop in time.
Build quality was good and the paintwork looked well finished and over the years it seems GSX 1400 owners attest to this as other bikes are wearing well over the years. That’s another thing, the owners love them. There may be someone out there who has a lot of bad things to say about these bikes, and that is normal but to be honest, I have not heard any horror stories and most people look back to their time with these bikes fondly and attest that they are built like a tank.
They are a good all-rounder as well as being a drag strip brute too as they make excellent tourers with a comfy riding position and many after-market toys such as seats and blingy bits and pieces to make it your own. You can even find a few companies selling turbos and other performance kits but as a stock bike it goes like the wind anyway.
Would I buy another? Well I did consider it but I think that naked bikes are no longer my thing unless it is just a hack and a GSX1400 is never going to be a hack. I do think it’s a bike that you should try if you get the chance and yes it is big, but once it’s moving, everything changes.
