What was this Model X? Collier & Sons began building bicycles in the 1800s, and then moved on to the motorized version, first budying engines to put into homebuilt frames and then building their own V-twin in 1912. After father died in 1926 the sons decided to take the company public and changed the name to Matchless Motor Cycles (Colliers) Ltd. In 1929 the 982cc (actual size) sidevalve V-twin was designated as the Model X—which was the predecessor to the Model X Sports Tourist that we are covering here. This long-wheelbase bike with a heavy frame was mostly sold to the sidecar crowd—which was mainly families in that time of the Great Depression: mom on the back, two kids and the dog in the hack.
Move forward seven years, the Depression was easing, and in time the X became the X/2, followed by the X/3 and X/4, each with very minor changes. 1937 rolled in and Matchless decided to make major changes, lightening and shortening the chassis and calling it the Model X Sports Tourist, putting it more in line with the sporting desires of the solo rider. Maybe this was the first sport-touring bike on the market.
The new X had 57 inches between the axles. By comparison, two famous Brit V-twins of the era, like the Vincent, had 56.5, and Brough-Superior, 59. The frame was a full-cradle, with twin downtubes attached to a pair of arms that supported the engine and transmission, continuing on to be part of the rigid rear end—pretty much standard for the day. An excellent Brampton girder fork sat up front, with the links forged and not stamped. Two large rotary friction dampers were on the sides, focused on vertical movement—the 1930s equivalent of air-adjustable fork legs. A third very traditional damper, which many readers will have seen on telescopic forks, was above the steering head to control sideways movement.
All of this was done to improve handling, with the steering reputed to be light, precise and accurate. As one 1937 road test reported, the bike “…laid over in fast corners without any sign of snaking or wandering.”
Wheels were both 19 inches, with a 3.25 tire on the front, a 4.00 on the rear. Braking was effected by narrow eight-inch drums with single leading shoes, and while the tester called them good, that would hardly apply today. Back then traffic was light, and riders were taught to think far ahead.
Handling was one thing, power was another. The bore and stroke was perfectly square, at 85.5 mm, and the compression ratio was 5.5:1. The two cylinders had an included angle of 50 degrees, and were slightly offset to allow the two connecting rods to sit side by side on the crankshaft. The cylinder heads had been modified to improve combustion, and thus create a little more power. A single Amal carburetor, with remote float bowl, sat on the left side of the engine.
At the base of the cylinders, on the right side, two shiny aluminum rectangles provided access to the pushrods for adjustment purposes. It was a dry-sump engine, with the oil tank beneath the rider’s saddle having a piecrust filler cap, easy to grip. A rotating plunger pump made sure the oil went where it was supposed to go.
A Lucas magneto in front of the cylinders and a dynamo sitting above the gearbox provided electricity. The mag provided spark to the two plugs, while the dyno kept a six-volt battery charged, and a large headlight showed the way at night. The taillight was adequate, but apparently Matchless was not much interested in brake lights.
Some 25 horsepower (estimated) went out to the single-row primary chain, and back to a Burman clutch. The polished round panel on the primary case could be easily removed if any clutch adjustment was needed. It controlled access to the four-speed Burman transmission, with another chain going back to the rear wheel. Of course, adjusting the primary chain meant moving the gearbox and then adjusting the main chain as well. Bikes of yore were labor intensive.
Lots of painted metal, with the two fenders and toolbox, along with the gas tank. The sprung seat provided adequate comfort if the road was not too bumpy. In the center of the 3-gallon gas tank sat the ignition switch, a trouble light, ammeter and a chrome cover for the missing optional clock. In 1938 Matchless changed its name to Associated Motorcycles Ltd. after buying the Sunbeam motorcycle company, and the “M” badge sprouted wings.
Performance was acceptable, considering the old design. A reviewer wrote that as soon as the bike got under way “… the rider forgets that he is astride a heavyweight machine.” The X could reach 70 mph in the standing quarter-mile and had a top speed of about 80. Which brings to mind the fact that George Brough used a modified Matchless engine in his SS80 Brough-Superior. Brough sold his machines for 90 pounds, whereas the Matchless version was less than 70 quid.
However, the Triumph Speed Twin and BSA Gold Star single both appeared in the late 1930s, 500cc OHV bikes that weighed 100 pounds less than the X, put out roughly the same power, and consequently could dance around this flathead 990cc.
World War II began in 1939, and the factory turned to making 350 singles for the military. Leftover parts saw a few X models being built in early 1940, and the model was not resurrected after the war.
1937-1940 Matchless Model X Sports Tourist Photo Gallery:
Story by Clement Salvadori. Photos by Dick Tatlock.
We Americans don’t often think of motorcycles as being purely utilitarian, since we use them mostly for traveling to interesting places, sporting along back roads and maybe a bit of backwoods exploring. But Honda figured there could be a market for this eminently efficient little go-anywhere 125, rigged to do all sorts of jobs around the farm or on the ranch. Back when horses were considered the standard get-around vehicle, roads and tracks were often narrow and twisty, prone to getting muddy after a rain, and that darned critter had to be fed even when it wasn’t being ridden.
Honda first used the CT designation in 1964, for the CT200, a high-piped explorer bike with a single seat. And a 90cc engine; obviously some marketing type felt the 200 number would sell more bikes than the diminutive 90. By 1966 Honda understood that buyers appreciated a more honest designation and changed the alpha-numerology to CT90. The T stood for Trail, as in a machine that was capable of following rustic paths through the woods, perhaps leading to wondrous adventures.
Then in 1971 Honda introduced a little 122cc OHC single-cylinder engine with a one-piece cylinder head in the SL125 Motorsport model, later used in the TL125 Trials version and a few months later in the XL125 dual-purpose bike. For 1976 this engine was modified slightly, with a two-piece head and the cubic capacity increased to 124cc.
After the XL125 was introduced, the Australian importers decided there could be a more useful purpose to this machine. First, they made the saddle more comfortable, since riders might have to spend a long time on the bike. And the saddle was for just one person, backed up by a big luggage rack good for carrying lots of stuff, from sacks of grain to sick lambs. Sheep stations in Australia often ran to thousands of acres, and here in Texas we had the King Ranch. A smaller front wheel was preferable for handling, and the CT got a 19 incher rather than 21 on the XL. The first three gears in the transmission were lowered for more plunking power. The original CT125 frame had a geometry that was similar to the Trials bikes, useful in the rough but not on the road; that was changed in 1976 to improve rideablity.
American Honda decided to import this model for 1977. That piqued the interest of someone in the U.S. Department of Agriculture, which ordered a bunch—how many appears to be unknown. Apparently the government soon lost interest, and American motorcyclists were equally disinterested. Honda had to get rid of its stock, so dealers who wanted Gold Wings and CB750s and XL350s had to buy some of these. Besides Honda’s official “Motorcycle Identification Guide 1959- 2000,” the only mention of the CT125 that I could find was in a 12-page color ad in the February 1977 issue of “Cycle” magazine describing many of Honda’s 34 models that were available that year, including the three-wheeled ATC 90. Rather than being touted as a useful working vehicle for farm or ranch, the CT was described as being a pleasant little adventure bike good for traipsing off the roads.
Its engine had a bore of 56mm, stroke 49mm, with a chain-driven overhead camshaft. A single Keihin carburetor fed the engine from the 1.6-gallon tank, while a trochoid pump circulated 1.6 quarts of oil through the engine and transmission. Compression ratio on the XL was a hefty 9.4:1, while on the CT it was lowered to a modest 8:1, considering the engine would probably spend a lot of time idling. The Australian model actually had a clutch that could be locked in disengagement while in gear, perhaps useful for opening and closing gates without having to fumble for neutral. Apparently U.S. laws were not happy with that notion and the device did not appear on the version sold here.
Power went back via helical gearing to a wet multi-plate clutch, then through five gears, and onto the 14-tooth front sprocket that was connected to the big 52-toother at the rear wheel. And the chain was fully enclosed, which meant it rarely needed adjustment. A tubular steel frame cradled the engine, with an inverted (upsidedown) oil-damped telescopic fork up front having 4.5 inches of travel. A pair of oil-damped shock absorbers at the back had 2.5 inches of movement. Small single-leading-shoe drum brakes were on both wheels, good for stopping in the rough, and capable on paved roads since the bike had a top speed of less than 60 mph. A modest 51 inches connected the two axles.
The single seat was 32 inches above the ground and quite comfortable, the only distraction being the 80-mph speedometer, with turn signal, high beam and neutral indicator lights. Wide handlebars had brush protectors to keep vegetation from beating on the rider’s hands. The crankcase itself had a long steel loop protecting it on both sides, as well as a bash plate underneath. An interesting addition were the big mud flaps on the back of both fenders, a sure indication that this Honda was expected to go to very muddy places. At the back of the left side of the swingarm, close to the shock, was a small handle bolted securely in place. Now, this could be used for dragging a deer out of the woods, or more likely it was a handhold for when the rear wheel was properly stuck in the mud and needed to be lifted out. With gas in the tank, the bike’s weight was only 250 pounds.
Worldwide, the CT125 was on the market from 1975 to 1985, but in the U.S. it was one year only. Farmers and ranchers appeared much more interested in the ATC 90 than in this two-wheeler. And sporty types opted for the XL125.
1981 Honda CBX 1000 Super Sport. Owner: Don Carver. Story and Photos by: Clement Salvadori
This story was originally published in the June 2020 issue of Rider Magazine.
This was a minor marvel of motorcycling when the original version was unveiled in 1978 as a 1979 model, more than 40 years ago. Six cylinders, six carburetors, 24 valves, two overhead camshafts and more than 100 crankshaft horsepower—the CBX Super Sport was going to dominate the sport bike scene. Unfortunately, it did not. For the first two years it was stripped down, then transformed into a sport tourer for its last two. The focus of this little write-up is on its touring pretensions.
Begin at the beginning, which was in October of 1977, when Honda discreetly snuck some test bikes into California and had a few American journalists come and try them out. Honda had introduced the original UJM back in the fall of 1968, the 1969 CB750, with four cylinders, eight valves, overhead camshaft and 67 horsepower, weighing some 500 pounds. Now it had something entirely new insofar as the engine was concerned, far more powerful and far heavier—600 pounds. And the competition was ferocious from the other three Japanese competitors, with the Kawasaki KZ1000, Suzuki GS1000 and Yamaha XS1100. These were all four-cylinder bikes, and Honda presumed the addition of two cylinders would bring in the buyers. The company had also experimented with a 1,000cc four-banger, which put out only five horses less than the six, but decided to go with the six.
The first CBX Super Sport models did not appear on the showroom floors until mid-1978, and small changes were made over the next two years, both in engine tuning and chassis. A lean spot in the carburetion was cured, bigger oil cooler, air-adjustable front fork, better shock absorbers, etc.
Then Germany announced that only motorcycles with less than 100 crankshaft horsepower could be imported, which notion might spread to
the entire European Union. More mods were made, and for 1980 the CBX’s crankshaft herd was reduced to 98 ponies, pretty much putting the bike on a power par with the other bikes. The 1980 CBX cost $4,200, Kawasaki’s Z1R, $3,700, Suzuki’s GS1100E, $3,700, and Yamaha’s XS1100G, $3,700. That 500 bucks would buy a lot of gas. Sales were weak. And a recession was on the horizon.
What did Honda do? It decided to revamp the CBX into a sport-touring machine. Curious that Honda never redesignated the bike, to focus on the touring aspect rather than the Super Sport—which was still writ large on the fairing. Engine changes were minimal; essentially two new camshafts to alter the power curve, giving a little more mid-range, less top end. And the profiles were redesigned in order to reduce tappet noise, no small matter when the noise is inside the fairing.
The fairing was originally a half fairing, with good aerodynamics except for some buffeting of a tall rider’s head. The leg protectors had been added on—rather crudely and still leaving the rider’s legs open to a lot of wind; since the bike could easily hit two miles a minute, that was a real possibility. Rather small removable panniers were affixed to each side, limited to 20 pounds each. Honda was worried about handling at high speed and kept the width of the bike at the luggage quite narrow.
Which meant the two shocks on the old CBX were gone and a new Pro-Link single shock arrangement had been installed. Granted, the linkage was particular to the CBX, and not like the motocross version, but it was a rising-rate suspension system. The shock was set up to work with air pressure, but there was also a coil spring—just in case the shock sprang a leak. A three-position knob could adjust rebound settings.
The front end was also drastically changed, with the fork tubes enlarged from 35mm to 39mm—which meant enlarging the steering head. The air-adjustable fork came with a little pump, and a crossover balance tube made adjustments even easier. It also increased the rake from 27.5 to 29.5 degrees, but kept the trail at 4.7 inches, enhancing straight-line stability. And wheel width, both front and back, was slightly increased to allow for larger tires.
The frame was a three-tube backbone truss, with the engine being a stressed member. The six cylinders were fed through six 28mm Keihin CV carburetors and fuel economy was usually less than 40 mpg, and could go under 30 on a rambunctious ride. Fortunately, the gas tank held 5.8 gallons, with a vacuum-operated petcock having a reserve position for the last 0.8-gallon. Exhaust was a six-into-two arrangement, with a crossover pipe in front of the rear wheel equalizing pressure.
Of major note were the new front brakes, which were almost an inch larger in diameter than the previous model’s, and were radially vented—which means that each stainless alloy disc was really two discs with lots of ventilation in between. The very competent calipers used two pistons to push the long, narrow pads against the rotor. The rear brake was the standard single disc, and also benefited from the twin-piston caliper.
But since this was now a sport-touring machine, at a pricey $5,600, what was Honda selling as a pure sportbike? For 1981 and 1982 the company brought in the excellent CB900F, originally aimed at the European market, powered by an air-cooled, in-line DOHC 16-valve 901cc four with some 90 horses, costing $3,350. After a mere two years the CB900F became the bored-out 1,062cc CB1100F—at a competitive price of $3,700. With more than 95 rear wheel ponies and well more than 100 at the crank, Honda was not looking at the German market with this model, just out-horsing the competition.
And the CBX? Vanished. And leftovers were quickly discounted.
Retrospective: 1981-1982 Honda CBX 1000 Super Sport Gallery:
1975 H-D/Aermacchi SXT-125. Owner: Michael Hopkins, Rohnert Park, California. Photos by Virginia Pearlman.
Here is an attractive little trail bike, built by Harley’s former Italian subsidiary, Aermacchi. Oddly, virtually nothing has been written about this model in the American moto-press. Your scribe has looked many places, and could not find a single road test. More than a dozen Harley histories are on my shelves, some of which never even mention the Italian connection, which went from 1960 to 1978. There is reasonable reportage on the four-stroke Sprint models, less on the two-stroke Rapido 125 and Baja 100, so I am making do with what we have.
Harley should be proud of the Italian connection, because it provided the company with four international GP racing victories when Italian road-racer Walter Villa won the 250 class in 1974, ’75 and ’76, doubling up in 1976 by winning the 350 class as well — riding a parallel-twin two-stroke built by Aermacchi with Harley-Davidson writ large on the fairing.
The name Aermacchi comes from combining the two words from the previous company, Aeronautica Macchi, with which Giulio Macchi began producing airplanes in 1912. However, being on the losing side in World War II, the company had to stop making airplanes and instead moved into basic transportation — the motorcycle. Early models used a four-stroke single from 175cc to 350cc with the cylinder lying forward, almost flat.
In 1960 Harley, aware of the popularity of bikes like Honda’s small OHC twins, looked at its own small bikes, a couple of rather antiquated 165cc two-strokes that had begun with the 125 Model S in 1948. Which was based on a German DKW bike, the designs for which had been given to the U.S. as part of war reparations. Now the Milwaukee suits tapped on the door of another WWII foe and cut a deal for half the company. In 1961 the first 250 models, called Wisconsins, arrived at dealers — shortly after which it was noted that this bike had nothing whatsoever to do with Wisconsin, and the name was quickly changed to Sprint.
In 1965 the first Italian-built two-stroke came into the country, a little 50cc model that the Harley dealers really objected to. Two years later that grew to 65cc, which did not help much, while the last of the DKW-based two-strokes vanished. Then the 125cc Rapido two-stroke came along in 1968, which was anything but rapid.
1969 was an interesting year for Harley, as an outfit called American Machine Foundry bought the motorcycle company. AMF was best known for selling golf carts and bowling equipment, and thought its sporting knowledge would work well with a motorcycle company. It did not. We won’t get into the Harley-Davidson snowmobile.
For 1970 the little Baja 100 two-stroke appeared, an off-road bike that appealed to quite a few riders. And it won its class in the 1971 Baja 1000 race. This was a serious effort by Harley to build a great desert racer and enduro machine, and they got a lot of help from the racers themselves. The engine was a Rapido cylinder sleeved down to 98cc. An automatic gas-oil mix was developed to simplify fueling.
Obviously AMF thought that this two-stroke connection was good, and bought the entire Aermacchi Company in 1974. Aermacchi could still pursue its European market, with Walter Villa’s racing, while the profits would go to Milwaukee. The following year was the last for the lone remaining four-stroke, a 250 Sprint.
And it was the first for the SXT-125, a well-designed trail bike that was meant to appeal to the rough-and-ready folk who had liked the Baja 100. The engineers at the Aermacchi plant in Varese built a slightly oversquare engine, with a 56mm bore, 50mm stroke, using piston-port induction. The cast aluminum cylinder liner had a chrome-plated bore, which was quite useful considering the rather serious 10.8:1 compression ratio, providing some 13 rear-wheel horsepower at a little over 7,000 rpm. Kickstart only.
An oil container under the gas tank held a little more than three pints; this had no sight window and the rider had to look carefully into the opening up by the steering head to see if more needed to be added. A Mikuni pump pushed the oil into the intake to mix it with the gas flowing through a 27mm Dell’Orto carburetor. Oil metering was controlled by the throttle, with one cable running to the pump, another to the carburetor.
Electrics were simple enough, with a flywheel-alternator charging a 12-volt battery, and easily adjusted points. Turn signals were mandatory. Up on the dash were two round instrument cases, one being the speedometer. The other, which did not hold a tachometer, served to house the ignition key and lights for high beam and ignition.
Gears took the power from the crankshaft to the wet clutch, then through a five-speed transmission with its own oil supply. The transmission sprocket had 14 teeth, the rear sprocket, 61. A useful primary starter allowed the bike to be kickstarted in gear after pulling in the clutch.
The frame used double downtubes, with a cradle running beneath the engine and serving as a sort of skid plate. A Ceriani fork did a good job up front, with Betor shocks at the back, adjustable for spring preload. Wheels were a 3.00 x 19 at the front, 3.50 x 18 at the back, both with five-inch, full-hub drum brakes. Wet weight was a respectable 240 pounds.
Seat height was almost 30 inches, with a saddle long enough to move about comfortably. No passenger footpegs. Good-looking machine, with an upswept muffler and 2.7-gallon gas tank. But dealers were not pushing them, and sales did not meet expectations. So what did AMF do? Sell the whole shebang in 1978 to an Italian company called Cagiva. And the “Cagiva HD SXT 125” became a bestseller in Europe.
P.S. Should any readers have information about this bike, please contact us at [email protected].
In December 2019, Triumph announced a partnership with EON Productions, the company behind the forthcoming 25th James Bond Film, “No Time To Die.” To celebrate this iconic collaboration, Triumph is proud to introduce the first ever official motorcycle directly linked to the Bond franchise.
The 2020 Scrambler 1200 Bond Edition is a limited-edition Scrambler 1200 XE motorcycle featuring a unique 007 design scheme and limited to a production of just 250 models worldwide, with only 30 marked for the United States and a mere five for Canada.
The Scrambler Bond Edition features distinctive 007-themed paint and bodywork, including a real leather seat with embossed logo, a unique TFT instrument startup screen, blacked-out finishes with special accents and an Arrow silencer with carbon fiber end caps. As a limited-edition model, it also has a numbered plaque and comes with a special Bond handover pack.
Otherwise, this is a top-spec Scrambler XE model, with six ride modes including Off-Road Pro, IMU-based cornering ABS and traction control, an assist clutch, keyless ignition, heated grips, cruise control and Öhlins suspension with 9.8 inches of travel are all standard.
The 2020 Scrambler 1200 Bond Edition is available at Triumph dealers now at a U.S. retail price of $18,500.
1999 Buell X1 Lightning. Owner: Jason Len, Arroyo Grande, California.
In addition to the weather phenomenon, the word lightning means fast, as in the speed of light or 186,000 miles per second. This motorcycle is not quite that fast; its speedo only goes to 140 miles per hour. But the X1 does get up there in an earthbound way, with a top speed close to that 140 mph, and a quarter-mile time in the 11s. Not bad for a bike powered by Harley’s 1,203cc Sportster engine.
Erik Buell, a longtime chassis engineer at Harley-Davidson and a serious racer, decided to go off on his own in the mid-1980s. His last accomplishment at Harley was the frame in the FXR series, which was greeted with great enthusiasm when introduced in 1982. Eric was a dyed-in-the-leather Harley enthusiast, having talked his way into a job in Milwaukee after graduating from the University of Pittsburgh.
In 1987 he began producing the RR1000 Battle Twin, building a drastically new frame holding leftover XR1000 engines, which had been used in those sporty Sportsters that did not sell well. When that XR supply ran out he moved to the 1,200cc engine, and did quite well with the Battle Twin line. Harley was so excited by this turn of events that in 1993 it bought 49 percent of the Buell Motorcycle Company, which gave Eric financial comfort.
In 1996 he came up with the S1 Lightning, a return to his basic concept of a “fundamental” sportbike — a bit too fundamental for many riders. He built 5,000 of these and had to listen to praise and damnation concerning its performance and appearance. Late in 1998 he elected to make it a little more pleasant to ride and change the look slightly, hence the X1.
The chassis is the most interesting aspect of the bike. The frame, a bit stiffer than that on the S1, was made of tubular steel in the form of a trellis, with sections coming down on both sides of the cylinders. A backbone connected to one of the most notable aspects of the bike, a subframe that was perhaps the largest aluminum casting seen on a bike. And it carried a modestly improved seat that held two riders without too many complaints. Beneath the seat a large rectangular aluminum swingarm helped the belt final drive get to the rear axle.
Buells had often been criticized for their limited turning radius, and on the X1 the steering head was moved forward slightly, giving an extra four degrees in steering lock. Still tight, but better…says the photographer who had to turn this bike around. A 41mm upside-down Showa fork with a rake of 23 degrees gave 4.7 inches of travel — and trail of 3.5 inches. It was fully adjustable, with spring preload along with compression and rebound damping.
The rear end used a single Showa shock absorber, which wasn’t really at the rear but was laying flat under the engine. There wasn’t room for the shock anywhere else, as the bike had a rather short wheelbase of 55 inches, five inches less than on the stock Sportster. Most shocks rely on compression as their standard, but this one used tension, pulling apart in response to a bump rather than pushing down. It had full adjustability, including ride height, with adjustments being best left to experts.
Cast wheels were 17 inches in diameter, with Nissin calipers, 6-piston in front and 1-piston out back, squeezing single discs. Because the Showa fork was already drilled for it, this bike’s owner added a second front brake disc and caliper.
And the engine? A mildly modified Sportster, an air-cooled four-stroke 45-degree V-twin displacing 1,203cc with an 88.9 x 96.8mm bore and stroke, and, yes, hydraulically adjusted valves, two per cylinder. The trick here was Eric’s Isoplanar rubber mounting system for this shaker. A standard Sportster shook like Hades when even mildly revved, and none of this was felt on the Buell machines. The engine was actually part of the chassis, with all the vibes going into a single longitudinal plane, and apparently this increased frame rigidity. Which requires understanding beyond the limits of this scribe.
Buell had developed his Thunderstorm cylinders and pistons for the S1, with better porting and 10:1 compression. A dynamometer rated the rear-wheel output at 85 horses at 6,500 rpm, an engine speed no rider on a stock Sportster would ever want to attain. For the X1 Eric tossed the 38mm Keihin carb and bolted on a 45mm Walbro throttle body using a VDO injection-control computer, labeled Dynamic Digital Fuel Injection. There was no increase in power; the system just made the engine run more smoothly. A triple-row primary ran power back to a 5-speed transmission and belt final drive.
The look was pretty sporty, beginning with the abbreviated front fender and a very small wind deflector over the headlight. When this bike came out of the factory it had big black boxes on both sides of the 4.2-gallon gas tank, the right one feeding the airbox and fuel injection, the left intended to keep the rear cylinder cool enough to not roast the rider’s leg. Underneath the engine was a spoiler intended to protect the shock and conceal the huge muffler. However, the owner of this X1 prefers the “fundamental” look and removed the black boxes and spoiler. He is careful about jumping curbs, as there are only five inches of ground clearance.
Dry weight is 440 pounds, 50 pounds less than the stock Sportster. People still complained about the seat, the vibration and a number of other things, but they were just pansies. The bike was intended for seriously sporty riders who didn’t mind a little discomfort as they kicked butt with an old-fashioned engine in a new-fashioned chassis. In 1999 the X1 and the Ducati 900 Supersport cost about the same; take your pick.
Distinctive styling sets these modern-day UJMs apart from each other, but they’re very similar otherwise. Their nearly 1,000cc engines are liquid-cooled, transverse in-line fours with DOHC and four valves per cylinder. They roll on 17-inch cast wheels with tubeless radials, and have standard ABS and traction control, adjustable suspension and radial-mount monoblock front calipers. They have upright riding positions with minimal wind protection. And they all look good parked in front of Morro Rock. Photos by Kevin Wing.
Remember UJMs? If you were a motorcyclist in the ’70s, or have a soft spot for bikes from that era, then you remember them well. Honda kicked it off in 1969 with its groundbreaking CB750, the first mass-produced motorcycle with a transverse in-line four-cylinder engine and an overhead camshaft. It was an air-cooled four-stroke with a five-speed transmission, a front disc brake, an electric starter and an upright seating position.
Honda created the formula and other Japanese manufacturers followed it. Kawasaki launched the mighty 903cc Z1 for 1973, Suzuki introduced the GS750 for 1976 and, late to the party but the biggest reveler in the room, Yamaha brought out the XS1100 for 1978. Similarities among these and other Japanese models of varying displacements led “Cycle” magazine, in its November 1976 test of the Kawasaki KZ650, to coin what became a widely used term: “In the hard world of commerce, achievers get imitated and the imitators get imitated. There is developing, after all, a kind of Universal Japanese Motorcycle…conceived in sameness, executed with precision, and produced by the thousands.”
Those UJMs, and the standards of performance and reliability they established, revolutionized the world of motorcycling. Decades later, descendants of those progenitors carry their DNA into the modern era. To see how well the formula holds up in the 21st century, we gathered examples from Honda, Kawasaki and Suzuki for a neo-retro comparo. (As much as we would have loved to include Yamaha for a proper battle of the Big Four, its contemporary XSR900 is powered by an in-line triple that colors too far outside the lines of the UJM formula.)
Like all three bikes in this comparison, the Honda has an upright seating position that puts no strain on the rider’s wrists, shoulders or back, but its footpegs are the highest.
Honda’s CB1000R, like its granddaddy, has a transverse in-line four, but it’s a more highly evolved one featuring liquid cooling and dual overhead cams with four valves per cylinder — a configuration shared by all three bikes in this comparison. Derived from the pre-2008 CBR1000RR sportbike, the CB’s 998cc engine has been tuned for low- to midrange power and its 6-speed transmission has an assist-and-slipper clutch. Like the others, the CB1000R’s standard equipment includes ABS and traction control, but it’s the only one here with throttle-by-wire and riding modes (Sport, Street, Rain and customizable User), which adjust throttle response, engine braking and traction control.
With the lowest seat height, lowest footpegs and most room for a rider, passenger and luggage (as well as a magnet-friendly steel tank), the Kawasaki is the natural choice for longer rides.
A round headlight and an exposed engine are about the only styling traits shared by the “Neo-Sports Café” CB1000R and the CB750. Kawasaki’s Z900RS, on the other hand, is a spitting image of its forebear. Round mirrors on long stalks, bullet-shaped analog gauges, a teardrop tank, a bench seat, a sculpted tail and gorgeous Candytone Green paint with yellow stripes are all inspired by the original Z1. Even the flat spokes of its cast wheels are designed to look like spoked wheels of yore. Derived from the Z900 streetfighter, the Kawasaki’s 948cc DOHC in-line four has revised cam profiles, lower compression, a heavier flywheel, a second gear-driven balancer and narrower exhaust headers for a mellower feel, and its stainless steel 4-into-1 exhaust has been tuned to deliver an old-school four-banger growl.
Rodolfo Franscoli’s redesigned Katana brings the distinctive elements of the original into the 21st century, though the fairing and flyscreen offer more style than wind protection.
Jenny’s Gear Helmet: Shoei RF-1200 Jacket: AGV Sport Helen Pants: Joe Rocket Alter Ego Boots: Sidi Gavia Gore-Tex Tail Bag: Nelson-Rigg
Suzuki’s entry in this contest is the new-for-2020 Katana, a modern interpretation of the iconic 1981 GSX1100S Katana, which revolutionized motorcycle design by treating the bike as a whole rather than a collection of parts. Originally conceived by Hans Muth and reimagined by Rodolfo Frascoli, the Katana has a small fairing and windscreen, and, like the CB1000R, a stubby tail section. Based on the GSX-S1000 naked sportbike, the Katana is powered by a 999cc DOHC in-line four derived from the 2005-2008 GSX-R1000, tuned for street duty with milder cam profiles and valve timing, steel rather than titanium valves, lighter pistons, a stainless steel exhaust and a 6-speed transmission with an assist-and-slipper clutch.
Three bikes, three editors, two days. Before hitting the road, we strapped on soft luggage. None have centerstands, and only the Kawasaki has a steel gas tank that accommodates a magnetic tank bag, which carried our tools, flat repair kit and air pump. Its long, wide bench seat also has room for a good-sized tail bag. With their short tails and small pillions, the Honda and Suzuki only have space for small tail bags. Because the Suzuki’s bodywork is more stylish than functional, the Honda and Kawasaki are completely nude and none have hand guards or heated grips, we were exposed to the elements. We bundled up in layers for our mid-January test and pointed our wheels north, taking freeways and back roads up California’s Central Coast.
Although UJMs of the ’70s and ’80s were sometimes derided for their sameness and lack of style, the formula they created for smooth power, all-around performance, bulletproof reliability and affordability is still being used today.
With their refined, Swiss watch-like in-line fours, these modern-day UJMs are impeccably smooth. Snicking their transmissions into sixth gear and cruising at a steady speed is a sublime experience, with minimal vibration or unwanted perturbations. None have cruise control, but with fuel capacities ranging from 3.2 gallons on the Suzuki to 4.5 gallons on the Kawasaki and as-tested fuel ranges between 130 and 173 miles, the need for gas will likely precede the need for wrist relief. Upright seating positions and windblast on the chest keep weight off the wrists on all three, but there are notable differences in legroom. The Honda and Suzuki have the tallest seat heights (32.7 and 32.5 inches, respectively) as well as the highest footpegs, putting much more bend in the knees — especially on the Honda — than the comparatively spacious Kawasaki. Even though the Kawi has the lowest seat height (31.5 inches) and lowest pegs, on none of these bikes did we find ourselves dragging pegs in tight corners.
With the lightest weight and best suspension, brakes and tires, the CB1000R is a pleasure to bend through curves.
It’s in those tight corners that these bikes further distinguish themselves. With only 10 pounds separating their curb weights and modest differences in chassis geometry, their engine performance, brakes and suspension are what set these bikes apart. In terms of outright horsepower and torque, the Honda and Suzuki, both of which have sportbike-derived engines, come out on top. The Suzuki is the strongest, churning out 142.1 rear-wheel horsepower at 10,300 rpm and 75.9 lb-ft of torque at 9,200 rpm on Jett Tuning’s dyno, though its advantage over the others is mostly above 8,500 rpm. The Honda peaks at 125.5 horsepower at 9,800 rpm and 70.6 lb-ft at 8,300 rpm, but it’s much weaker than the Suzuki and Kawasaki below 7,500 rpm, a deficiency that’s obvious on corner exits and roll-on passes. Although the Kawasaki generates only 100.1 horsepower at 8,500 rpm and 67.5 lb-ft at 8,500 rpm, in the midrange it gives the Suzuki a run for its money and leaves the Honda in the dust.
With their more compact cockpits and high-revving power, the Honda and Suzuki lean more toward the sport end of the sport standard spectrum. Their smoothness makes them sneaky fast, and their stock suspension settings are firmer than the Kawasaki’s. All of these bikes have fully adjustable upside-down forks and preload- and rebound-adjustable single rear shocks (KYB on the Kawasaki and Suzuki, Showa on the Honda), but the Honda’s suspension, especially its Separate Function-Big Piston fork, is the most compliant. Sportbike-caliber front brakes, with pairs of radial-mount monoblock 4-piston opposed calipers clamping large discs, deliver serious stopping power across the board, but the Honda has a slight edge in feel. Adding to a sense of confidence on the Honda are its Bridgestone Battlax Hypersport S21 radials, which have noticeably more grip (but likely less mileage in the long run) than the Dunlop radials on the Kawasaki and Suzuki.
With its spacious cockpit and dimensions and soft suspension, the Z900RS requires more effort to hustle around corners.
Despite being down on peak power and more softly sprung, the Kawasaki is by no means a boat anchor or a couch on wheels. It’s plenty fast, but its mission is clearly different than that of the Honda and Suzuki. The Z900RS stokes the flames of nostalgia while providing a more spacious, relaxed and comfortable riding experience, with every potentially rough edge sanded smooth. The Katana, on the other hand, is essentially a GSX-S1000 with plastic bodywork and a more upright riding position. In isolation there’s little to complain about when riding the Suzuki, but compared to the Honda and Kawasaki, it feels less refined, with more driveline lash and less precision during gear changes.
With its power, riding position and firm suspension, the Katana is the most sportbike-like of our trio of modern UJMs.
UJMs were the first motorcycles to be called “superbikes,” a name that came to be more appropriately applied to the racer replicas that proliferated in the late ’80s. These modern-day UJMs fall into the more mundane-sounding “sport standard” category, but there’s nothing mundane about 100-plus rear-wheel horsepower, high-spec brakes and suspension, standard ABS and TC, and a level of capability that’s truly impressive. For sheer power and sporting prowess, the Suzuki gets top marks, but its small 3.2-gallon gas tank and high price ($13,499) make it a tough sell. Priced a bit lower at $12,999, the ultra-smooth Honda has a strong top end as well as throttle-by-wire, riding modes and the best suspension and tires, but its weak midrange and high footpegs limit its overall appeal. A relative bargain at $11,199, the Kawasaki won us over with its throwback styling, spacious and comfortable seating, strong midrange, seductive sound and decent fuel range. If you do what we did — strap on some luggage and explore some of your favorite roads for a couple of days — you’re guaranteed to have a good time. Isn’t that why we ride?
These modern UJMs are best suited to day rides or weekend jaunts. Their fuel ranges are low by touring standards and they don’t accommodate much luggage, but they’re reasonably comfortable, smooth and a heckuva lot of fun to ride.
Frame: Mono-backbone steel frame, single-sided cast aluminum swingarm Wheelbase: 57.3 in. Rake/Trail: 24.7 degrees/3.8 in. Seat Height: 32.7 in. Suspension, Front: 43mm USD fork, fully adj., 4.3-in. travel Rear: Single shock, adj. for spring preload & rebound damping, 5.2-in. travel Brakes, Front: Dual 310mm floating discs w/ 4-piston monoblock radial opposed calipers & ABS Rear: Single 256mm disc w/ 2-piston pin-slide caliper & ABS Wheels, Front: Cast, 3.5 x 17 in. Rear: Cast, 6.0 x 17 in. Tires, Front: 120/70-ZR17 Rear: 190/55-ZR17 Wet Weight: 463 lbs. Load Capacity: 390 lbs. GVWR: 853 lbs.
Performance
Fuel Capacity: 4.3 gals., last 1.0 gal. warning light on MPG: 91 AKI min. (low/avg/high) 30.7/35.8/39.9 Estimated Range: 154 miles Indicated RPM at 60 MPH: 4,250
2020 Kawasaki Z900RS ABS Specs
Base Price: $11,199 Warranty: 1 yr., unltd. miles Website: kawasaki.com
Engine
Engine Type: Liquid-cooled, transverse in-line four Displacement: 948cc Bore x Stroke: 73.4 x 56.0mm Compression Ratio: 10.8:1 Valve Train: DOHC, 4 valves per cyl. Valve Insp. Interval: 15,000 miles Fuel Delivery: DFI w/ 36mm throttle bodies x 4 Lubrication System: Wet sump, 4.2-qt. cap. Transmission: 6-speed, wet assist-and-slipper clutch Final Drive: O-ring chain
Frame: High-tensile steel trellis w/engine as stressed member, cast aluminum swingarm Wheelbase: 58.1 in. Rake/Trail: 25.4 degrees/3.5 in. Seat Height: 31.5 in. Suspension, Front: 41mm USD fork, fully adj., 4.7-in. travel Rear: Single shock, adj. for spring preload & rebound damping, 5.5-in. travel Brakes, Front: Dual 300mm discs w/ opposed 4-piston monoblock calipers & ABS Rear: Single 250mm disc w/ 1-piston caliper & ABS Wheels, Front: Cast, 3.50 x 17 in. Rear: Cast, 5.50 x 17 in. Tires, Front: 120/70-ZR17 Rear: 180/55-ZR17 Wet Weight: 472 lbs. Load Capacity: 398 lbs. GVWR: 870 lbs.
Performance
Fuel Capacity: 4.5 gals., last 1.0 gal. warning light on MPG: 90 AKI min. (low/avg/high) 34.5/38.5/45.4 Estimated Range: 173 miles Indicated RPM at 60 MPH: 3,750
2020 Suzuki Katana Specs
Base Price: $13,499 Warranty: 1 yr., unltd. miles Website: suzukicycles.com
Engine
Type: Liquid-cooled, transverse in-line four Displacement: 999cc Bore x Stroke: 73.4 x 59.0mm Compression Ratio: 12.2:1 Valve Train: DOHC w/ 4 valves per cyl. Valve Insp. Interval: 15,000 miles Fuel Delivery: EFI w/ SDTV & 44mm throttle bodies x 4 Lubrication System: Wet sump, 3.4-qt. cap. Transmission: 6-speed, cable-actuated assist-and-slipper clutch Final Drive: O-ring chain
Frame: Cast aluminum twin-spar w/ cast aluminum swingarm Wheelbase: 57.5 in. Rake/Trail: 25 degrees/3.9 in. Seat Height: 32.5 in. Suspension, Front: 43mm USD fork, fully adj., 4.7-in. travel Rear: Single link-type shock, adj. for spring preload & rebound, 5.1-in. travel Brakes, Front: Dual 310mm discs w/ radial-mount monoblock 4-piston opposed calipers & ABS Rear: Single 220mm disc w/ 1-piston pin-slide caliper & ABS Wheels, Front: Cast, 3.50 x 17 in. Rear: Cast, 6.00 x 17 in. Tires, Front: 120/70-ZR17 Rear: 190/50-ZR17 Wet Weight: 473 lbs. Load Capacity: 407 lbs. GVWR: 880 lbs.
Performance
Fuel Capacity: 3.2 gals., last 1.0 gal. warning light on MPG: 90 AKI min. (low/avg/high) 36.2/40.6/46.5 Estimated Range: 130 miles Indicated RPM at 60 MPH: 4,000
Even on modern-day UJMs we still like using an old-school paper map to plot our route on the back roads of California’s Central Coast. That’s Hollister Peak in the background (just above Editor Tuttle’s head), one of the Nine Sisters—a chain of small volcanic mountains that includes Morro Rock.The Honda CB1000R’s in-line four is a street-tuned version of the engine that powered the pre-2008 CBR1000RR. Unique in this trio, the Honda has a trick-looking single-sided swingarm. Suspension front and rear is by Showa, with a top-spec Separate Function-Big Piston upside-down fork up front.All-digital display with white graphics on a dark background is generally easy to read in bright sunlight. Red light on the right can be set to change colors with different gears, modes, etc.The Kawasaki Z900RS’s 948cc in-line four is the smallest, least powerful engine here, but it has a strong midrange and its tuned exhaust sounds fantastic. That bench seat, that sculpted tail with a small kick-up, that taillight and that Candytone Green paint take us right back to the original Z1. Those analog gauges, with their chrome bezels matching the handlebar, are stunning and easy to read in all conditions. The tasteful LCD display in the middle packs in useful info.The Suzuki Katana’s 999cc in-line four is the beast of the bunch, cranking out 142.1 horsepower at the rear wheel. A modern interpretation of a motorcycle design icon, the Katana is the only bike here with bodywork—a small fairing with a square headlight, a flyscreen and the Hans Muth-designed Katana logo. In addition to Glass Sparkle Black, it’s available in Metallic Mystic Silver like the original. Light-on-black digital display is busy and hard to read in bright sunlight.
This darn coronavirus is just mucking everything up. Virtual unveilings and press releases just don’t have quite the same impact as dramatically pulling a sleek black sheet off a new model, bright lights and flashbulbs popping off the paint, at an international auto or motorcycle show. Honda had originally planned to unveil its CB-F Concept, a CB1000R-based homage to “Fast” Freddie Spencer’s ’80s superbike, at the 36th Osaka Motorcycle Show and 47th Tokyo Motorcycle Show, both of which have been canceled.
Don’t fret, Honda, we still think this is a gorgeous machine, and we hope it becomes more than just a concept bike. Continuing the CB’s 60th anniversary theme, the CB-F Concept hearkens back to the classic air-cooled inline four CB900F and CB750F (famously raced by Freddie Spencer), complete with a cool white, silver and blue livery that should look familiar to anyone who remembers Freddie’s Daytona race bike.
Honda CB-F Concept. Images courtesy Honda.
Of course, this isn’t an old-fashioned tubular steel-framed, carbureted, air-cooled machine; it’s based around the potent CB1000R, with its 998cc DOHC, 4-valve-per-cylinder inline-four, high-tensile steel mono-backbone frame, single-sided aluminum swingarm and inverted fork.
What do you think? Should Honda turn this CB-F Concept into a production bike? Let us know in the comments below.
1977 Yamaha DT125 MX. Owner: Don Carver, Creston, California.
The Japanese were selling a lot of “street-scramblers” in the late 1960s, but these were merely street bikes with upswept pipes. Yamaha, in particular, was advertising three twin-cylinder “scramblers” in 1968, the same year it brought out the DT-1 Enduro 250 single, soon followed by the AT-1 Enduro 125. That enduro nomenclature made a bike a little more serious about bad roads, but still, it was a compromise, doing neither street nor dirt extremely well.
Despite its imperfections, the 125 changed the world for a lot of Americans. With a gallon of gas in the small 1.8-gallon tank this little charmer weighed in at about 220 pounds, light enough that just about anybody could pick it up. When buyers scooped up all the AT units that first year Yamaha understood it was on to something profitable.
Move along to 1974, minor improvements were made, and model codes were changed. The bike was redesignated the DT125 — the DT now denoting all of the enduros, from 125 to 400. The 125 chassis was quite conventional, with a cradle-style tubular-steel frame, dual shocks at the rear and a pair of 18-inch wheels.
For 1977 a new version of the DT125 appeared known as the DT125 MX, instantly recognizable as it came with a single shock rear end, just like the Yamaha’s YZ Monocross racers. As they liked to say those many years ago, “That looks really cool!” Image has always been important in the motorcycle world, and this had great image. Like the racers it used a cantilever-style swingarm, with a long DeCarbon hydraulic shock running all the way to the steering head, under the gas tank. The lengthy damper proved to be excellent for shock absorption, allowing the rear wheel to follow the bumps and dips rather than bounce over them. A dose of nitrogen gas made sure the shock would not bottom out.
Wheels were a 21-incher on the front with a 2.75 Yokohama trials tire, and an 18-incher at the back, with a 3.50 tire. The Takasago wheels each had a rim lock, a hint as to the expectation of a goodly amount of abuse. The five-inch drum brakes on both wheels were adequate in the dirt but rather weak when used on the pavement. The tubular frame cradled the engine/transmission, with a large backbone concealing the shock absorber. The subframe elevated the saddle to some 32 inches above the ground, the suspension allowing for 10 inches of ground clearance. The center-axle 31mm fork had 30 degrees of rake, five inches of trail, providing some seven inches of travel. Almost 53 inches ran between the axles.
The engine was semi-new, still with an oversquare 56 x 50mm bore and stroke totaling 123cc, but now with radial fins on the cylinder head for better cooling. A 24mm Mikuni slide carburetor using reed-valve technology fed gas and air into the crankcase, while Yamaha’s Autolube sent oil to where it should go. An aluminum sleeve fit into the cylinder, utilizing a five-port induction system, with a compression ratio of 7.2 to 1. Power was on the discreet side, with some 10 horses at 7,000 rpm, but that might have enhanced sales, as it was not enough to get into serious trouble.
The Autolube oil container, holding a little more than a quart, was discreetly concealed behind the left-side panel, and once the panel was removed the reservoir could be swung out and refilled. A little light went on in the instrument cluster when the oil got low. The oil-injection system did vary the amount going into the engine depending on throttle load, which served to reduce oil usage as well as prevent fouling the plug.
To get rid of that troublesome need to occasionally set timing, as well as check points, the DT125 was blessed with a magnetically triggered capacitor-discharge ignition system, better known by its abbreviation, CDI. This benefited the engine by offering a quicker spark, reducing the possibility that any of that oil and gas mixture in the combustion chamber would foul the plug. The magneto also served to keep the small six-volt battery charged.
The exhaust system was well designed. Enduro bikes tend to fall over on occasion, and the idea is that the rider disentangles him- or herself, gets up, lifts the bike, pulls in the clutch, gives a kick and away they go. Presuming no damage to the header pipe or muffler. The DT125 header went up and back under the right side of the tank, and then crossed over to the muffler and spark arrestor on the left side, tucked away behind frame members. Very protected, very efficient.
Getting power to the rear wheel was done via helical gears running the ponies back to a five-plate wet clutch and a very good six-speed transmission, where the top two gears were actually overdrive. A minimalist chain guard covered the chain, with sprockets having 15 and 49 teeth allowing for a solo rider to exceed the 55 mph national speed limit. The relatively comfy saddle was capable of seating two friendly riders. High fenders kept mud-collection problems away, and turn signals kept the feds happy, along with a speedo and tach, indicator lights and a horn.
And to ride? Fun! Within reason. Turn the petcock, pull the choke knob if cold, turn the key and kick to start. The little engine did best, of course, when a rider weighed less than 200 pounds, but it was happy scrabbling in the dirt. With a few minor changes this model lasted through 1981, after which two-stroke street bikes became illegal in the U.S.
Nobody seems to remember the company hired by Suzuki to advertise the Laredo model, but it certainly pulled out all the stops. The town of Laredo had a deserved reputation as a tough border crossing in Texas back in the late 1800s, and is rich in history. As well as a song called “The Streets of Laredo,” which is all about a dying cowboy; not sure that would be the proper way to tell people how much fun riding a motorcycle is, as motorcyclists were being called modern-day cowboys.
Suzuki had done a good deal of serious work in approaching the American market. At the start of the company’s business in the U.S., 1962, it offered a relatively ponderous 250 designed in the late 1950s, which had an electric starter, turn signals and a hydraulically actuated rear brake. All quite useful on a practical commuter bike.
However, the next version, the 1966 X-6 Hustler, was quite different, with performance being the issue. The X-6 touted its six-speed transmission, the six gears focused on being able to stay in the narrow powerband that the two-stroke twin enjoyed. The all-new, perfectly square (54 x 54mm) parallel twin engine was rated at 29 horses at 7,500 rpm, which was quite astounding for a street-going 250. The heavy electric starter was dispensed with, and weight was an extremely modest 300 pounds wet, resulting in a top speed of 100 mph. Good bike, albeit a tad fragile, with busted gearboxes, slippy clutches and holed pistons high on the list.
As some riders may remember, this was when the AMA was trying to impose four-speed gearboxes on all models in national racing competitions.
Change is good, especially the kind that might attract customers. For 1968 the company upsized the engine to 305cc by boring the cylinders out to 60mm, adding 58 cubic centimeters to the cylinder capacity. The resulting 305cc bike came out in two versions, the low-piped T305 Raider and the street-scrambler styled TC305, with high pipes, knobbyish tires and a skid-plate. Not that such mods made much difference when on seriously dirty dirt, but the rugged look sold — rather like today’s adventure bikes.
More essential changes involved making the tranny tougher by almost doubling the size of the gears. And slightly decreasing the compression ratio from the 250’s 7.3:1 to the 305’s 6.7:1. As well as enlarging the clutch plates and using thicker cork (when is the last time we saw a clutch with cork inserts?) to give the much-abused plates added longevity. These improvements added some 20 pounds to the heft of the engine/tranny unit. Overall wet weight, with 3.7 gallons of gas in the tank and almost half a gallon of oil in the Posi-Force reservoir, was almost 340 pounds.
This had all the essential Suzuki modernizations, with that Posi-Force oil injection system making sure that the oil got to the important lubrication points, rather than just mixing with the gas and hoping for the best. More importantly, the buyer that Suzuki was looking for had no interest in the messy business of personally adding oil to the gas tank. A vacuum petcock did away with the need to turn off the gas when stopped, a ritual the older generation was quite familiar with.
The 305 used the Vol-U-Matic induction system, a porting technique that allowed for a reasonable amount of grunt, or torque, to be generated by this middling-small engine. That was helped along by heavier flywheels, which served to make the engine less touchy when plunking along a dirt road. Tractable was a word often used by reviewers. Rotary valving was becoming much the rage in the late 1960s, but Suzuki liked the traditional piston-port design.
The 305 was produced with a pair of rather large 32mm Mikuni carbs, compared to the 24mm ones on the 250. The engineers had realized that if they left the intake port the same size as on the 250, with the same stroke, the bigger carbs would allow for rapid filling of the crankcase. And the big gulps of air assisted in quickly jamming the fuel mixture through the ports and into the hemispherical combustion chambers. An amusing side effect was that this system, useful when dawdling along, created a major intake boom when the rider chose to twist the throttle all the way open. As one magazine put it, “…the roar is enough to rattle your very bones.” But 37 horsepower was claimed by the manufacturer.
The engine/tranny unit sat in a full-cradle frame, the tubular members making a full U as they came down from the steering head to go under the engine and loop up to the saddle, to meet with the three tubes running back under the gas tank. The 51 inches between axles provided for good control at slow speeds, and still reasonably capable when pushing the century mark on the speedometer. Though the rider might need a bit of downhill to attain 100 mph, as road tests of the era showed 95 to be about top. The fork was said to be a bit on the stiff side, while the rear shocks seemed soft. Probably much depended on whether one lightweight was on board, or two heavyweights. Good ground clearance was provided, with even the centerstand neatly tucked away.
Good bike, well received, but Suzuki obviously felt the need for something new. The Laredo was only on the market for one year, with a few leftover Raiders sold in 1969. Replacing it was the Rebel 350…nice number, but the 305 engine had only been bored out another 2 mm, adding just 10cc, for a grand total of 315cc, not 350cc. Truth in advertising?
