I used to have an '85 Yamaha RZ500. V-4 two-stroke, which I bought in '90. At redline it sounded like a dumpster full of chainsaws, but gawd when it came into it's powerband the hit of acceleration was not to be believed. That bike and Suzuki's square-4 two-stroke RG500 were well beyond the tire construction of the day, the rider really had to know when he could use all that was on tap.
The inboard end of the clip-ons (separate lowmount handlebars) had this plug on the end that presumably was there to keep out moisture. On my bike, it did not. Unknown to me and not visible on the outside of the bar, oxidization, evil rust was eating away from the inside.
There is a lovely little bit of twisty two-lane road, the kind I live for, just outside of Mississauga called Sideroad #16. You come at it from the east and dive down some tight swichbacks, through a medium speed knee-dragging downhill sweep until the road flattens for a bridge across a creek. The road drops away at the end of the bridge, and if you are going fast you will catch some air there just before the road snaps right 90 degrees and up a steep hill. Perhaps you can see where this litte story is going...
I came rocketing off the end of the bridge reminding my self "DO NOT brake while the bike is off the tarmac, wait for touchdown, wait..." And I brake, hard, clamping my knees to the tank to keep myself seated and ready for my upper body weight to transfer to my wrists. Already thinking ahead to banging off two quick downshifts and then shifting my weight to the inside, I realize with horror that my right bar is failing! The thing is just giving out! It's still in my hand, but christ! where is it's connection to the bike?! Shit!
I slid wide through that corner, almost to the ditch on the opposite side, scraping through I honestly do not know how, my eyes out on stalks expecting a camper van lumbering straight at me downhill in the on-coming lane. There was no traffic. It could have been different.
Stopping to assess the situation and relieve a spontaneous self-induced wedgie, I realized that my bar contols still fuctioned, throttle wire and brake line were still intact, so I rode slowly home with my right bar held ontop of the tank, and practicing my newfound skill of steering with the left bar only.
I later figured out what had happened, the rusting was clear to see. I went to a parts shop and got the bits to fix the bars up AOK, good as new. Better than new even. But I could never trust that bike again. What else had Yamaha missed? I could ride it, but I couldn't push it hard so what was the point?
So I bought a new ZX-7.
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If you are not the sport-bike type, and you like the big cruising metal, really there is only one. It's gotta be a Harley. One Fine Day I will own a Harley, but that's going to have to wait until I am as old and slow as they are.
Mind you, that V-Rod has a certain something going for it...
Eric