Jesse Alexander

Jesse just died...a life fully lived...he was 92. 

I have had the privilege of interacting with a number of heroes of my first days following sports cars and European road racing. What I mean by that is more than just a “hi” or a request for an autograph. 

To name drop a few...I was with Phil Hill on a number of occasions and he and I were actually on a first name basis as I also chatted with Alma and Derek...a child at the time. But there was also Brian Redman, Carroll Shelby, Dan Gurney, Stirling Moss, Jackie Stewart, Bobby Rahal, the Edlebrocks (Vic Jr, Cammie, and Christy)...and both Froilan Gonzales and Juan Manuel Fangio, who I spoke with on multiple occasions through the Ferrari Owners Club meetings and events or at various vintage racing venues. 

All of these giants of racing were more than gracious and easy to talk to and with...but of them all only Jesse had me tongue tied in total awe...and he was not a racer. But I have spent a life playing in the world of photography, though I never had the equipment to do what he did around cars, and was too busy participating or concentrating about it to do more than some static paddock shots of race cars.

I was also too shy to shove a camera in anyone's face to capture them. I rarely did “people photos” and even when I did some professional figure studies or weddings did not pose my subjects but just snapped them “as they were.”

But Jesse's work was just so stunning that I could do little more than stammer a “hello” as I looked at what he displayed in his booth at the Monterey Historic races. That he was still shooting racing at that point in the late 20^th century, after his fame and talent had been long recognized and rewarded, evidenced his ongoing love for the machinery and participants in the history of motor racing. 

I never bought one of those works nor even his arguably most famous book, “At Speed.” But I did grab a copy of his later work “Driven,” published in San Francisco at the turn of the new century.

And as I flipped through it again as my own memorial to his Jesse's life work, I recognized that I too am at the stage in life where reprising and revisiting negatives shot long ago seems a natural way to sum up my own visions of the world. 

The book is autographed, but I was too “star struck” to ask for a personalized comment. It has, however, motivated me to return to the darkroom again and look back to see if there is yet more of my own history captured in silver on acetate I wish to bring to life again. 

It is, perhaps, the time of my own life to reminisce a bit, and to be fortunate enough to have both these memories, and my own visions, captured externally as well as within myself.

So Why the Bird?

You have, no doubt, noticed that my profile picture is obviously not me, though I might be skinny and do have legs somewhat like the guy in the picture. So why that picture?

I am decidedly not an expert on native American culture, but it is my understanding that there is, among many tribes, a process for male youths of finding their “totem” animal...an animal who somehow “chooses” the youth and is his spirit brother in some sense. As I said, I'm no expert in this, but you might already guess where this narrative is heading. 

I grew up in South Florida, but until I was in college I was almost totally oblivious to the richness of the natural world which surrounded me. I guess I might have noted that there were some really big birds around, and of course I was aware that most of the wildlife either bit your with teeth and jaws large enough to rip you apart, or, at whatever size, injected you with poisons that at a minimum were very painful or, at worst, could be fatal. I was always amazed that the residents of a nest of fire ants you might have stepped on unknowingly could somehow all crawl undetected along your leg from your ankle to your crotch and then, on some signal, all chomp down at once, leaving you dancing around and swatting at yourself like St. Vitus!

I was always an “odd man out” as a kid...I guess maybe I still am. By high school I realized that there weren't many people who wanted to be around me...and most of those who did were girls. Unfortunately that was not an opportunity for me as my physical characteristics, intellectual strength, and caustic humor combined with an inability to read any sort of “signals” left me with many female “friends” but not many chances for romance.

As for male friends? Not macho, awkward at sports, and smarter than 90% of the guys, so you can guess there was not much connection there. I was not totally a loner, but sure had a feeling there was something “wrong” with me. 

Greynolds Park in North Miami became a refuge of sorts for me in High School. There are trails through a forest of what I think are Virginia Pines, covered in soft blankets of needles. The trail in particular I have in mind paralleled an inlet of a lake or lagoon which anchored the park.

There was an island in that lagoon which had become a huge rookery for multiple species of water birds I later came to appreciate as an amazing and beautiful part of what I think of as “the Real Florida.” The rookery was mainly claimed by a raucous group of American Egrets, but the park also hosted a variety of other egrets and herons. By the time I was a college student I had come to be able to identify, observe, and be mesmerized by Florida wildlife, and on any visits back after I moved west I always tried to work in a canoe trip on some glorious “black water” river with my sister and her husband.

But on this particular walk in Greynolds I was on the trail I noted above, just sort of quietly walking with my head down. I am not aware of any thoughts which were bothering me, but I'm sure there was some tension or another from which I was seeking respite by breathing in a bit of nature.

And then it happened. I somehow startled one of the birds, even though it flew from behind me and I did not see it coming. As it passed its right wing brushed my head. I don't recall being especially startled, but I was certainly impressed, as the wing...and the bird to which it was attached, seemed huge. Yet the touch was soft, and almost ephemeral. All I was aware of was wingspan of several feet, a dusky blue-grey color, and long legs streaming out behind and under it. 

I had no idea at the time what it was.

Fast forward to whenever it was that I “discovered” what had been around me all the time...the subtle but incredible beauty of Florida and its wildlife, most especially its birds. I got into “bird watching” because so many of them were four feet tall and pretty easy to identify. And one of the most magnificent is the Great Blue Heron. These birds can be found quite literally over a vast part of the world, but Florida is home to hundreds if not thousands of them, along with many other exotic avian species.

It did not take much to realize that the bird who had somehow physically contacted me when I was 16 or so was a Great Blue. 

I'm not a believer in myths of any kind, religious or otherwise. But I do respect those who have such beliefs, as long as they don't spill over into negative energy towards others who do not share them. So the fact that this bird actually had touched my head would, I think, qualify as a clear sign that the Great Blue Heron had chosen me to be a spirit brother. And maybe, just maybe, through flipped race cars, changed flight arrangements which saved my life on 9/11, and all the medical potential disasters I have lived through, that spirit really has been with me to protect me. Certainly I am not about to question, and am perfectly willing to accept respectfully.

Stately and Beautiful
And Always Watchful

The X6

Don't get me wrong. I love my 77 GS 750...the best overall bike I've owned. In fact I have enjoyed all four Suzukis from my past...and, oddly, two of the four “other” bikes I've had which I did not care for were Kawasakis.

But...in terms of sheer joy the best of the best was the X6. A post on a recent auction of a Kawasaki H2 750 on Bring a Trailer triggered my thoughts for this post. The H1 and H2 were nicknamed “The Window Maker” as they were brutally quick in a straight line but lacked any sort of real capability to turn or stop. The term “scary fast” applies.

Here's the comment that got me thinking:

“I had a 250cc 2 stroke Suzuki X6 “Hustler” with a 6 speed transmission in my late ‘teens. Very fast little bike, I could keep up with (and sometimes pass) the Triumphs and BSAs for a city block or so, when they just ran away from me. I lusted after the H2 triple a guy in my town had. That bike just seemed so exotic, so noisy and in-your-face fast that I just HAD to get one.

Cooler heads prevailed after I scared myself once too often on my X6. A lightweight 2 stroke motorcycle, even one with 250cc, is not a thing a teenager should have.”

But it was an X6 which got me back into two wheeled vehicles...though it belonged to my Grad student roommate and not me. And I was only a year past my teens myself at the time, though it was another year or two before I actually owned one (and why, oh why did I trade it for that gawdawful Kawi 350 triple?). I was no more than a year or less out of my own teens before riding and eventually owning one...and though I did not realize it at the time, my own learning curve about motorized two wheelers was already deep enough, and my maturity refined and established well enough, so that the bike was a pure joy which never scared me.

As related elsewhere in this blog, Dick Saltzman had a 64 Corvette Stingray convertible I lusted after, which he would often let me drive if I washed it for him, as he preferred the X6 for daily commutes to and from class. I could not figure that out, as I had ridden on the back a couple of times and was less than thrilled...and even a bit frightened.

I had not been on a motorized two-wheeler in years, and the idea of leaning into turns was intimidating at first. I did learn to trust Dick and the physics eventually. But riding on the back of a bike is just not the same experience as...riding.

So, one day, Dick offered to let me ride solo if I cleaned (was it the bike or the car? Don't recall). In those days Florida did not have a separate license endorsement for motorcycles. So a person could just jump on and go. While that might make little sense in terms of personal safety, at least the only person likely to suffer from lack of experience of judgment was the rider...unlike the fact that even today a 60 year old who never drove anything bigger than a Honda Civic can jump into a 40 foot, 26,000 pound motorhome and go with no certification or training required!

But I digress. I rode out to a large and ancient sinkhole outside of Gainesville called “The Devil's Millhopper”....sort of a reverse mountain as first you hiked down to a flat bottom where you could often find fossilized sharks teeth in the foliage and rocks, before climbing back out. But the road to it was two lane country and often totally empty of other traffic, as it was for this first ride.

I took it easy until I got some familiarity with the controls and responses in terms of handling, brakes, and power. Once I got to that empty road I stopped on the pavement. Making sure there was no other car, or bike (with or without motor), I wound on the throttle and dropped the clutch.

Holy crap! While the front wheel stayed firmly planted on the pavement, the first three gears came as quickly as I could move my hands and feet, and my butt slipped to the rear of the seat as the X6 threatened to come out from under me. It was all I could do to hang on. At 145 pounds soaking wet I was getting all the acceleration out of this little beast it was capable of...0 to 30 in 1.3 seconds, 6 flat to 60, and the next thing I knew the speedometer was reading 100 and I was absolutely breathless. And though the brakes were drums they were more than adequate to shut things down before I ran completely out of road. 

I was totally hooked. But a new X6 was $749 and I settled instead for a one year old Yamaha 305...while not up to the specs of the X6 it had more power than anything I had driven or ridden, and was more than adequate as a first learner. And eventually I did, perhaps two years out, get my X6. By then, and drawing on my early learning about how to stay alive on two wheels from way back in Junior High , I was more than capable of managing the X6 safely while not giving anything up in terms of enthusiasm. 

They ain't $749 anymore

I still yearn for the light weight and instant response of the bike. I love the GS and would not want to part with it, but a 500+ pound 1970s four stroke is just not the same animal as the light and lithe little beast that I still believe was the best 250 ever made.

One day?....

 

Family

Maybe its time for me to stop “racing.” I put that in quotes for a reason. I'm 76 now, and that is an age where one should really stop kidding oneself about what they were...or were not.

I have driven “at speed” on race tracks in at least six different performance oriented cars...the Siata, Quantum, Ferrari, and MG I own or owned, and Gary's Siata and Ernie's AC Bristol. While I believe I have driven well and exercised these cars in the way they were meant to be used, I never was or would be a serious contender to “win” anything in competition events, despite various awards for my performance gratefully and (I hope) modestly accepted over the decades. 

As I consider these, they really are treasured honors. I still have the sheets showing my 7^th position finish at one Wine Country and my 10^th at a Monterey Historic pinned to the shop wall. These were in an era where the cars were the stars and the awards by Steve Earle were mainly NOT for winning, though of course he politically had to acknowledge that accomplishment as well. 

“Best in Presentation and Performance” at a Wine Country, presented by Steve, and a “Group Award” at Monterey means a lot to me, as the American vintage racing world changed and does not, today, value these kinds of acknowledgments for “mere” effort as much, if at all.

I also won my class at the Ferrari Owners Club Virginia City Hillclimb as well...which in retrospect I came to realize was what I considered the scariest and most dangerous event I ever ran. In fact, at the same running where I won that award, I spun the car off into a scenic overlook, which could have ended in total disaster.

I've won other awards which recognized my commitment to the sport and continuing participation...awards for that hard to nail down term..”spirit.” One was the first recognition in honor of Martin Swig...a man who embodied what we all loved about vintage racing and hoped, rather naively, to maintain...as embodied in the cryptic title for this piece. 

For Vintage Racing (note the caps) was indeed a “family...” a largely male “brotherhood” (though shared in spirit by many women wives and lovers). So though it was a shock, receiving a “Spirit of HMSA” trophy probably cemented my growing recognition that much of what I loved about the capitalized version has faded into history. It is the award which is, to me, the highest honor.

It was always the people in the sport which attracted me in the first place. The old FOC and the migration to playing with old race cars with those fast friends created a“gathering of the tribes...” a small “city” which came together for a weekend and then was gone, until the next time.

Nowhere was that more evident than the third week in August at Laguna Seca. While the paddock always had people camping over the weekend, the accommodations were much more modest than 40 foot motorhomes and 53 foot tractor-trailers. My Lance camper was a comparatively luxurious and relatively rare standout when I bought in in 2000. 

Certain memories of those weekends are indelibly etched in my brain. Here are a few memories.

I met Phil Hill, always one of my heroes, through the Ferrari Owners Club (FOC). The first time I chatted with him was at the annual Bay Area Region picnic, hosted by Marshall Mathews at his home outside La Honda. Phil wasone of the most approachable famous figures I kenw. Bobby Rahal, Dan Gurney, Juan Manual Fangio, Carroll Shelby, Jackie Stewart, Sir Stirling Moss, and Jay Leno were all friendly enough to varying degrees, but my convesations with Brian Redman and Phil were on a much more personal and extended basis, much more than a “hello” and perhaps an autograph. It's a different thing to be chatting over a couple of burgers or sitting with Brian in Cris's motorhome. (BTW...he is one of the funniest people I ever met).

Phil was an accomplished photographer of the racing world, and had a traveling slide show for times when he was a speaker at various events.And when he came for that purpose to a FOC dinner and meeting, I met his wife Alma and his son Derek for the first, but not the last time. 

I was then the Historian for the Bay Area FOC chapter, and kept articles, event flyers, photos, and other material in the official scrapbook and club archive. I also happened to be walking into the meeting with the Hill, and Alma I chatted about a variety of things as I helped Phil carry in the screen and slides for his presentation.

I then met the Hills again at a FOC track day following one Monterey Historic. This was before I was racing the Siata so sometime around 1979. The club not only supported the MHAR, but arguably the enterprise would have failed if not for that support in the early days. 

I believe I have elsewhere charted my role as pace car driver for the club that day...an indication of trust by the event management. I had been asked to step aside for one session to allow Phil to drive Jon Masterson's 512BB/LM. I was happy to do that as long as Adin could ride along. And I sat on the pit wall with Alma and young Derek as Phil whipped the car around the tight Laguna turns at speeds up to 140 as reported by Adin, but with driving skill as smooth as silk. Alma patted my arm and said

“Don't worry about your son, Marty, Phil is a very good driver.”

“I'm not worried,” I exclaimed. “I'm envious. Why did I put him Adin in the car instead of me?”

When they came in the kid could barely stand up he was so weak in the knees, with my oversized (for him) helmet all but sideways on his head.

“Dad,” he managed...”he was hitting 140 on half the track!” Hmmm...

Brian Redman? The guy can keep you laughing so hard you have to ask him to stop for fear of not being able to breathe. I was sitting with him in Cris's motorhome when he asked if I had heard his story about the early Porsche 917 he drove (for Vasek Polac, someone whose accent and mannerisms Brian could imitate in a way which was both loving and brutal at the same time). 

A driver in the session before his had a serious incident in which he was killed...the car was truly early pending a lot of later development. Vasek came up to speak with Brian, who was crying openly. 

Polak expressed sympathy and said he was unaware that Brian was friends with the driver.

“No,” said Redman, “I didn't know him at all.”

“Then why are you crying?” asked Polak.

“Because,” cried Brian, “I have to drive one of those things next!”

I think I have also mentioned elsewhere an evening before a FOC event where a group of us were sharing some snacks, when we heard a swishing sound from the dark track. Looking around, both John Lewis Jr. and Jason were gone. Things were so casual in those days that we actually had the keys and combination to the gates to the track, but those were kept locked until the next morning.

Somehow the kids has squeezed past the locks on one of the gates and rode skateboards down the famous “Corkscrew...” the steepest drop in the shortest distance of any race track in the world. When they came in they were white as ghosts and very grateful they had sat on the boards rather than trying the stunt standing up!

The importance of and relationship to the MHAR by the FOC was clear from the fact that the featured marque for that very first Laguna Event in 1974 was...Ferrari. And as long as Steve Earle was in charge, every year ending in the numeral “4” was automatically a “Ferrari” year. 

Thus in 1984 I was sitting in our 2+2 in a line of traffic trying to get up the hill to enter the club “corral.” It was the only time the engine overheated. I had the Siata by then and had started in to the rebuild. As we sat there, Sherri asked me, with the temperature gauge crawling towards the peg, what we were bringing the next year. “A Siata on a trailer.” I replied.

There was an announcement that this was the largest gathering of Ferraris in history. We did get to do some “parade” laps during a lunch brake. It was a 600 car traffic jam...the slowest laps I have ever done at Laguna, including bringing meals to corner workers at an FOC track day!

Once I started participating in Vintage Racing my “family” expanded from but still coalesced around the FOC folks. But most of the racers had the same, relaxed outlook. Al Moss, for example, the founder of Moss Motors, still one of the largest suppliers of British sports car parts, became part of the “little car” race grid...the 1947-55 Sports Racers under 1500cc, with the famous ex-von Nueman MG TD special. Al, like the rest of us, was interested in “playing with old race cars” rather than winning. Long before the car was sold and “upgraded” to a speed capability it likely never had when racing for real, I actually passed Al going uphill between turns 6 and 7 in my first MHAR event in 1986!

Monterey was not a low tension club weekend. With 50 or 60,000 spectators there was a lot of pressure to do well for both driver and car. I did, of course, enjoy the “15 minutes of fame” and, as the event grew over the years, the perks and displays. But I often said that it was a “great event” rather than “great racing.” 

In fact, in many ways the most enjoyable part of the weekend, at least when things had gone well for me and the car, was the “Awards Ceremony” up in the old amphitheater above turn 1. 

It was truly a “family celebration,” with champagne labeled specially for the event and, often, “Crazy” Kenny Epsman circulating with margaritas mixed in a blender powered by a two stroke motor from some lobotomized weed whacker and poured into tit from a five gallon fuel jug labeled with a Union 76 logo (“Don't worry,” Ken promised, “I cleaned it out first.” Yeah, right? Sure didn't look it!). 

Though Steve later got the story incorrect, it was the aforementioned Al Moss and Ernie who spontaneously cooked up what became known as “The Great Monterey Hat Swap.” And that too dated from 1984. It came about like this...

It was, as noted, a “Ferrari” year. Ernie owned many over his life, including some quite famous cars such as the first 3 liter V12 car, which won The Millie Miglia in 1952, and the 250SWB which won its class at LeMans in 1961. But Ernie did not worship “The Prancing Pony,” though he loved the cars. They were toys and tools, and certainly not status symbols for him. To put it mildly, he was not an open-shirt-hair-chested-gold chain kind of guy.

Soo...one of Steve Earle's guests at the Monterey event was the head of Ferrari at the time...perhaps it was Piero Ferrari? Don't recall, but at any event a very well dressed suit. Ernie decided to poke some gentle fun at the “gold chain crowd” and bought enough galvanized links at a hardware store to make a necklace, which he painted a golden color. Maybe I had one as well? 

At any rate, he was sitting at a bench in the amphitheater at the awards ceremony in his typical outfit of blue jean overalls, suspenders, blue chambray colored shirt, and brown bush hat...ornamented by that outrageous oversized hunk of galvanized metal. 

And then...Al Moss won an award. As Al threaded his way down the amphitheater steps and passed Ernie he grabbed the fedora off Ernie's head and, when he accepted the award from Steve he swiped the cap off Mr. Earle's balding pate, plopped it on his, and plunked Ernie's bush hat on Steve.

And then the game began. Every award after that was accompanied by a shout of “Hat!” from the crowd. By the end of the awards no one who got one had the hat they started with.

In subsequent years of course it got more outrageous and sillier...there were women's Easter bonnets of course! Everyone took it with good humor (and no one returned the hats to the original owners), until one Carroll Shelby was the honored guest. And a good friend of mine (can't admit to any names on this one) got an award...as well as Shel's chapeaux complete with BRDC patch (British Racing Driver's Club)...a high honor award.

Seems Ol” Shel thought he would get the hat back at the end of the day. And my friend was ready to return it...until the rest of us stepped in and said “Uh, uh...absolutely not! You play here you play by our rules.” To this day I am sure I know where that hat is, and The BRDC gave Shel a new patch so in the end we really didn't rob him of the award.

If family centered on the MHAR, then to me the MHAR centered on the celebration in the amphitheater. It was torn down to make way for a new “Media Center” a couple of years before Steve was replaced in what certainly appeared to be an insensitive manner. The rewards celebration was moved to the top deck of the new center...and it was a cold and formal place. Though I don't recall if there were side aisles I do recall a center aisle with rows of folding chairs on each side. In front was some sort of presentation area.

There was no raised stage. An amphitheater, as the Ancient Greeks knew, made for ideal viewing as each succeeding row was elevated above the one in front of it (a design used to this day in every movie house and auditorium). All the chairs on the center roof were, of course, on the same level. As you went further back you were more and more divorced from the people and the activities at the front, and increasingly felt like an audience rather than a participant.

At any rate, the end of the MHAR and the “Reunion” which replaced it marked the beginning of, though certainly did not cause, the gradual demise of much of my feeling of a vintage “racing“ family.”And while there certainly still can be found pockets of closeness between various smaller “centers” of friendship and camaraderie in the sport, as with much else in the world; 

“things change....” and not always for the best.

Back From The Dead

There is something deeply satisfying about bringing old and long dormant machinery “back to life.” It is a tribute to civilization and engineering that it is possible to do so. That a precision machine can sit and quietly rust and deteriorate for decades, and then be brought back to working condition, particularly without major reconstruction, is for me and many other people, a source of calm enjoyment in and of itself, independent of the actual utility of the item.

It was not always so. My first foray into this process was necessitated by my purchase of the Siata...a partly restored “rolling chassis and body” accompanied by nine boxes of parts.

I did not want to build the car...I wanted to race it. But the process, described elsewhere in this blog, 

 required me to develop a “Zen state” of mental quietness in order to “get there.' No frustration and no rushing was going to make my goal quicker or easier to reach.

This first step to actual enjoyment and appreciation of the process of restoration led to a number of other projects with varying levels of effort and quality. I developed decent skills in the repair and refreshment of mechanical systems, as well as recognition of my own limitations, and appreciation for the work of others who could perform tasks I could not do acceptably myself..like body and paint, machining, or “serious” engine work.

The above is the overture to my latest “opera¹”...dragging my Suzuki GS750 back from oblivion. As hinted at the end of “Ashes in the Handlebars,” written in the summer of 2018, I was toying with the idea of resuscitating this derelict; for reasons I could not justify. The article described its rather sad and neglected state at that time, after spending many years in a leaking outdoor “shed.”

I have few pictures of the bike before I started working. Here are the only two I could find. 

Masked for Painting
But Deteriorated painted case in view

Original and pitted front fender

 When the clear coat on the cases deteriorated I painted them black but did a bad job...this was still pretty early in my learning curve. The second photo shows how badly much of the chrome had pitted.

I knew for certain that I no longer have the energy or the interest in doing a complete rebuild of a go kart, no less anything more complex. I was simply not going to pull the engine/transmission assembly out of the bike. If I could not get it to run, and run well, I was going to abandon the project and simply buy a smaller bike such as a Suzuki X6 (see “Ashes in the Handlebars,” 7/14/18) . Even if I could get the GS running I was not convinced that it was manageable given my aging bones and deteriorating strength. 

The X6 weighs about 300 pounds...the GS tips the scale at over 500. I always gravitated towards two strokes for that very reason. I never weighed more than about 150 and a two stroke had plenty of performance while being well within my ability to fling around or get up on the center stand. After 40 some odd years away from the GS and at my current 135 pounds I was shocked at how difficult it was to do that, in order to begin evaluating what it might take to get it on the road again.

“Job 1” (as Ford used to say) was to learn “is the motor frozen?” This was easy to test, just gingerly pushing on the kick starter. There had been no oil circulating on the cylinder walls to lubricate them for something like 35 years, so “gingerly” was the watch word...I did not want to just jump on it and risk scoring the cylinder walls or breaking rings.

It was a bit odd but a good thing that Suzuki still had a kick starter on a bike in 1977. My Yamaha 305 had electric start in 1965, as did my 66 X6, so it is interesting that 12 years later the Japanese bike manufacturers still had this “belt and suspenders” setup. It sure made it easier to confirm that things were still movable inside the cases after all those decades.

It would have been easy to leap from that success to try starting the bike, and it would have been a mistake. That long, out of circulation oil had been sitting in the crankcase for decades. It was obviously long past its prime. And, who knew the status of valve clearances, or whether valve springs might be about to snap? It was also wise to manually squirt oil onto the cams to pre-lube the upper end. While I was at it I drained the oil and pulled out the oil filter, which was clean with no sign of metal in it or the drained oil. The upper end also looked decent, so with the purchase of a set of cam lifter pucks, a case of oil, a cam gasket, and a new oil filter, I had completed the second round of verification steps. 

I was concerned about parts availability for a 40 year old machine. Fortunately there were a lot more GS bikes built than Siata cars, and it was not 1983 with no internet to allow easy research of such questions. I could not anticipate everything I might need but was encouraged by how much seemed to be available, and from multiple suppliers. Of course just because they listed the parts did not mean they actually had or could get them, but at least it seemed there was not a lot of obvious “unobtanium” or “cantgettem” parts.

I was anxious to see if the bike would start and run, but wanted to be smart, though that meant being patient. “Smart” said first see if it would crank and then make sure cranking it would generate the needed oil pressure...understanding that neither of these had happened for more than three decades.

The GS does not have an oil pressure gauge, but it does have a low pressure warning light...one big enough to read by! While it might be possible to use the kick starter to generate oil pressure that would indeed be a tedious process so I was hopeful the electric unit was working. 

I removed the old (and likely original) battery and connected a remote utility battery. I squirted some WD40 into the ignition switch and wiggled the key and sprayed and wiggled and sprayed and gradually it woke up and once turned showed me lights, turn signals, and the horn, but no “grr, grr, grr” from the starter, though with the instrument panel working I could use the gear indicator to verify that I could get the transmission into all five gears plus neutral.

It is virtually impossible to remove the cover over the starter with the carbs in place, so I was hoping the issue was something in the switch. After opening it up and looking at a bunch of tiny parts I thought it would be best to try and just replace the whole thing...it also contains the kill switch and the “Hi/Lo” headlight switch. Suzuki did a great job of using “plug and socket” connectors all over the wiring so sub-assemblies are fairly easy to replace, but I could not find a new OEM unit or a used one which had the correct round starter button. Using the wiring diagram from my Clymer repair guide I wired around the original circuit with a pushbutton in a bracket I fabricated, temporarily hose-clamped to the right handlebar.

It worked perfectly and, with the plugs removed, the bike cranked happily and after a few seconds the freshly changed oil put out the low pressure warning light. A really good sign that things might be healthy inside the engine cases. 

I was not out to “restore” the GS. While I cleaned up and touched up many deteriorated areas on the frame and handlebars, and power wire brushed any bolts taken out for the maintenance I did to get the bike into running shape, I was not trying to make it “look like new.” What I was after was an acceptable looking result which ran and handled as it should. But of course any items I had to remove to repair got cleaned up and painted before I put them back on. And I tried to use paint which made them look as close as possible to the way they did new. So, for example, when I removed and refurbished the cabs they got painted with a spray which closely duplicated the cadmium plating of the machinery.

Much of the work was straightforward. Unlike a car, a motorcycle's raw mechanical bits are all more or less out in the open and, in theory at least, are easily accessible. The theory does break down for some items though. The very nature of the bike's compactness means there is a lot of “stuff” which has to be packed into a very small footprint. That can mean either removing a lot of other “stuff” in the way of what I needed to get to, or trying to figure out how to remove nuts or bolts which the factory made special tools to access which I did not have and could not get.

On the other hand, a really attractive bike like the GS is impressive visually in no small part due to the engineers and designers ability to make all that raw mechanism somehow look good.

There were, however, a few mechanical challenges that were real head scratchers to diagnose, and then were also frustrating due to long timeframes for the search and securing of the required parts for the repair. Solving these issues gave me some of the deepest satisfaction of the project.

Front master, rear caliper, rear master, rear bearings...tires

The full list of items I worked on in bringing the bike back mechanically and cosmetically is extensive. For anyone interested it is printed at the end of this post. Underlined items are those which are still to be executed or completed. 

For this article I will concentrate on those things which were the most challenging and which, therefore, brought the greatest satisfaction to me in resolving. The first of these, mentioned at the beginning of the post, was diagnosing the failed starter button and wiring around the stock item successfully. The next one I tackled was the front brakes.

The front caliper is a single, floating piston design. Hydraulic pressure causes the entire assembly to slide on its mounting bolts, when the piston pushes the “active” pad against the rotor, thus pushing the entire assembly, from the “passive” pad side, tightly against the other side of the rotor. I tested this movement using air pressure with the caliper removed from the bike. The piston moved freely and the seals did not appear to be deteriorated in any visible way so I was fairly confident in just replacing the pads and putting the assembly back on the bike. But then a stumbling block arose in regard to the front master cylinder. 

Suzuki very quickly abandoned the single front disc and moved to a dual disc setup which still used the same floating caliper design. According to all the material I could find this occurred almost as soon as the bike was revealed to the public, which happened in October of 1976. So it may well be that only the initial run of GS750s, produced prior to that date, got the single disc setup. As shown in the photo, 

Talk about an early version
Built the month before the public presentation

 this would include my bike, produced a month before that public unveiling.

Though the caliper was OK the brake lines to it were not...and since Suzuki used lines with swaged on banjos there was nothing I had which could be poked into the lines to clear the clog. So I got new lines...and then found that the handlebar master was not working. 

Though the historic material I have found on the internet has been quite useful, none of it has totally clarified the model designations for the 750. For 1977 the OEM parts lists for the bike had a “GS750” and “GS750B” selection in their menus...but the diagrams for various assemblies and the parts listed were identical...and were for a single front disc, floating caliper, spoked wheel bike. Yet at some pint the “GS750” selection was removed from these menus.

My bike's serial number plate
First time I looked at it was as I started the refresh project
Note the lack of letter designation after the pre-printed "GS750"
Is this a "pre B?" An "A" Version?

I ordered a rebuild kit for the “GS750B” but the piston and seal were smaller than the old ones I removed from the master. My own belief is that the available kit is for the dual disc version. If I remember my physics correctly the smaller diameter would create more pressure, which would be needed to activate two, rather than one, pistons. At any rate the rebuild kit was useless.

The old components, once cleaned up, looked ok, but when I reassembled the cylinder with them it leaked upon application of pressure, so could not be used. I will keep it on the shelf, hoping I might later find some non-Suzuki components which might work. Meantime I bought an aftermarket cylinder. To make it look like it “belonged” I used a heat gun on shrink tubing to create a black end of the activation grip handle to sort of match the factory look on the clutch lever. Of course I also had to modify the original wiring to connect to the new rear brake switch. But once installed and road tested I was satisfied that I had solved the front brake problems. So on to the rear.

Unlike the front, the rear caliper was a mess...totally frozen. This end of things used dual pistons on a single disc, with its own master cylinder, tucked up inside the frame. I knew things were going nowhere until I had a functioning rear brake and that meant first of all a functioning caliper. 

In fact, the road test I did of the front brakes were after I resolved much of the rear brake issue. But getting a working caliper was only the first step.

Although aftermarket and OEM pistons and seals were available for the unit, I could not get the old pistons unstuck so this did nothing for me. I finally decided that, though expensive, the best approach was to put the old caliper on the shelf and fiddle with it later, and bought a new OEM replacement out of Japan, complete with pistons.

Also, unlike the front, the rear lines from the master joined to a rigid tube in the middle, and then from this tube there was a flex line to the caliper. Though one end of these flex lines used the same swaged banjos as in the front system, the straight connector at the tube, and the straight tube itselg, meant I could both poke a wire down each segment and also use a spray tube on an aerosol can of Brakekleen to flush out these lines. Once cleaned and examined I could spray again to test that they were clear and then reuse them, preserving the original look and function.

Problem was, after rebuilding the rear cylinder, the brakes had a tremendous amount of drag, and I did not know where it was coming from. I did not see how the lines could cause this, so in my evaluation it had to be either the master or the caliper itself was not releasing when I released the brake pedal. It did not take me long to devise a way to isolate the issue to one or the other.

I first test road the bike and stopped it using only the front brake, as described above. That worked fine, though of course the rate of deceleration was painfully (and potentially dangerously) slow. I then connected lines from the front cylinder to the rear caliper, and did a ride using only the rear brake. That worked fine and there was no residual drag on the rear when I released the brake pedal. But just to be sure I had isolated the problem to the rear master I did one more test. I connected the rear master to the front brakes...and the drag problem moved from the rear to the front, proving that, simple as it is, something in the rear master was bad. 

Though relatively simple the business end of the master is difficult to clean out as it narrows down from the general internal diameter of the cylinder. The integral reservoir, used only, I believe, on these “pre B' or “A” models, does not exactly help as it makes it clumsy to work with just the cylinder part of the unit.

This cylinder seems to be irreplaceable, as Suzuki quickly went to a no doubt less expenive and more generalized remote reservoir system. So I purchased a complete new unit, fabricated a mounting system for the reseroir, installed it, and re-tested the brakes with total success. Major problem solved but at significant expense and time to deliver two major parts from Japan.

Though the brakes now worked well there was still something in the rear end causing me mental discomfort in my testing. The 40 year old tires were not confidence builders, but there was a binding when I rotated the wheel manually and a howling while riding I did not like. And finally, I decided to test side play in the wheel and found about an eighth of an inch of it which appeared to be in the hub, though at first I misdiagnosed it as in the swing arm, which supports the rear suspension and wheel...sp I now have new needle bearings and seals for that unit, if I ever need them.

I thought the binding might be one or more frozen chain links. The bike had over 40,000 miles on this original item, so I decided to replace it and, since this requires dropping the swing arm, I would look at that assembly as well as the entire hub unit at the same time.

Once I had the wheel off the binding problem became obvious. 

Pretty Obvious Issuer
Where is the cage that retains the balls?
For that matter, where are the rest of the balls?

 But exactly how and when did that cage break? Where did the remaining balls go? The only time the rear wheel was off the bike was to replace a worn out rear tire, and that was done by the dealer where I bought the GS. And with the hub on the wheel and the wheel on the bike there is simply no place for balls to escape the hub even if the cage broke. 

Selby Motors is long gone from Redwood City. But if they were still around, after finding this issue and knowing no other place where this failure could have been noticed and corrected before it wound up potentially killing me, I would never bring the bike back to them. Incompetence in repairing dangerous machinery used by others is just unacceptable...and I see no other answer which could explain what I found.

At any rate, I ordered a new bearing set and seal and installed them..the new bearings are sealed and require no internal lubrication. Once I reassembled everything and did another road test the bike was back to being the predictable and docile though powerful ride I knew and loved. I can just imagine what the last change, to new versions of the Continental tires on the bike since new, will bring with their more modern compound and lack of 40 years of age hardening.

Below is the bike as it sits at the moment. The peeled paint on the tank is visible next to the filler. The new starter button fills the cigarette lighter hole below the left storage compartment on the fairing. And the non-spec master cylnder can be seen on the right handlebar. The silver paint on the forks, spokes, and engine cases are not stock...these should be polished but would require a level of disassembly I did not want to get into. Other than paint and striping the project is finished except for any normal maintenance items I find as I ride. It has been a fun and fulfilling project.

1977 Suzuki GS750 Restoration

Summary of Repairs and Restoration

Front to Rear

1. New front brake pads

2. Replaced front brake lines and fittings

3. Painted front caliper

4. Replaced front fender

5. Repainted lower front shock outer tubes

6. Replaced front tire

7. Paint front wheel spokes

8. Drained and replaced front shock oil

9. Painted front spokes

10. Replaced front master cylinder

11. Wired in new starter push button

12. Replaced rear view mirrors

13. Repainted tank gas cap cover

14. Replaced gas cap gasket

15. Replaced gas tank mount bumpers

16. Repainted and striped gas tank

17. Replaced gas tank emblems

18. Replaced side cover emblems

19. Replaced fuel petcock

20. Replaced fuel lines

21. Rebuilt carburetors

22. Painted carburetors

23. Painted engine and side covers

24. Drained and replaced oil

25. Replaced oil filter

26. Set valve clearances

27. Replaced rear master cylinder and reservoir

28. Fabricated remote rear master cylinder reservoir

29. Flushed and cleaned rear brake lines

30. Replaced rear caliper

31. Replaced rear brake pads

32. Replaced chain

33. Replaced rear wheel bearings

34. Replaced rear sprocket bearing and seal

35. Replaced rear shock absorbers

36. Replaced rear tire

37. Repainted, striped, and decaled rear tail section

38. Replaced rear turn signals

* Underlined items are outstanding

Pretty...and Pretty Close to Complete

1The word, like the music, is Italian. Literally it is the noun form of the word “work,” meaning the results of the verb “lavoro,” “to work.”

Yee Haw!

For the first time in more months than I can remember, I took a drive in the 914 which was at least partly just for the hell of it. For far too many months I have either avoided driving it (too cold out and heater not yet restored) or just ran to the local grocery store and back. Depending on which one the round trip was all of 18 miles max. 

 Well, once again I was out for food...seems with the COVID pandemic that is almost my only outing from the house...but this time I needed to go to one which, in theory at least, is somewhat closer...about six or seven miles. However, this might be deceptive in terms of time. While I can get to either via the state highway, between the gentle curves, potential Highway Patrol presence, and traffic, it is not always a joy and a pleasure. BUT...there is an alternative...a road named Clinton, though not for the US President of the 1990s. The name pre-dates his fame by many decades, and refers to a long defunct community which may, or may not, have been a hooch making haven in the days of Prohibition. This to takes me, as does the highway, to the town of Jackson, but a bit further south...in fact right at the cross street to the other main highway bisecting Jackson, and ending right at that grocery to where I was headed. 

 I hesitated as I left the driveway and then, what the hell, just went for it. The temperature, for the first time in months, was in the high 60s Fahrenheit, the sun was bright, there was no wind, and not a cloud in the sky. Nor was there another car going in my direction to slow me down. And so I “let the beast have its legs.” 

 Now the four cylinder 914 is hardly a powerhouse. As detailed in much earlier blog entries, with only 85 HP acceleration is not exactly a thrill, and while the top speed might exceed 105MPH the car is hardly fun or happy at that velocity. It is mildly powered VW based, roomy and practical sports car with all that meant in the late 60s. At 85 it is fun and it will cruise happily at that speed anywhere and for days at a time. But get it on a curvy road and...oh my what a different and lovely little beast it is. Corners like a slot car at speeds which are simply exhilarating. I just can't help laughing to myself as I hurtle into a 30MPH turn at 55 with just the slightest brush of the brake pedal to settle the suspension and then SNAP through it so quickly I am out almost before my brain registers that I am in. 

 And again 

 And again 

 And again. 

 The top speed I hit on this swooping, curvy, but not excessively tight road is perhaps 70-75, and most of the time I was doing five or ten under that, yet my “time to town” was probably a good three minutes faster on that route than almost anyone else would make it. Google Maps says it is 8.9 miles via Clinton Road, and that it takes 16 minutes to drive it. That is an average speed of 33 MPH. What world are they living in since the speed limit is 50? But of course almost no one can average 50 with those curves and hills. But since I make it via te highway in ten minutes driving more sedately (though that is 1.2 miles shorter, and though I did not time it, I am sure I made it in no more than that time...an average of 53.4 MPH and maybe I was even under that. At any rate it was the most fun I have had in a car since this pandemic started, including my last “on track” outing at Laguna Seca in the Siata. 

 God, I love that car.

Above the Dirt

Still Above Ground

Odd title I guess...it actually vaguely refers back to my post called “Ashes in the Handlebars” in July of 2018. That was a “flyover” survey of the motorcycles in my life. The title was taken from a humorous(?) threat Sherri voiced about where she was going to stuff my ashes if I didn't do something with the derelict I had moved to Jackson which, 20+ years later, was lurking in a corner of my workshop.

Well, I have started “doing something,” a mechanical and cosmetic “refresh” of my favorite bike save only my X6 from the same manufacturer.

Why the title of this piece? Well, I'm 75 now...an unarguably ridiculous age to get “back into” motorcycles. But I ain't dead yet...and to paraphrase an old Datsun commercial about dogs and trucks “Marty loves bikes.”

I kept looking at the damn thing and thinking I was long past generating the energy it would take to start a large car project or even pull an engine out of one of the current classic cars I own...but bikes are a lot easier to work on since everything, in theory at least, is right out there in the open and generally accessible, though the access to some parts requires the skills of a laproscopic surgeon. It was running when I parked it, so I thought it might, like the 914, require a less than major cost or commitment to get going. Like the 914, it was part of my life since new, and bought only a few years after that car, and thus was an important part of my history, and is now, at the time of life when folks tend to do things either nostalgic or retrospective.

There was also a more practical reason to proceed, at least theoretically. I had watched two major forest fires in two years with cars were stuck in a non-moving log jam . In one case, people suffocated or burned and died: in the other, nothing was moving on a major Interstate highway other than two motorcycles. I vowed that if the worst happened and we had no warning to get out, we would have an option. While the GS750 might, at this point, be too heavy to manage, it did have a set of clip on Samsonite luggage which could be keep packed with an emergency evacuation supplies. if I could indeed still maneuver it, it also had plenty of power to get us away “two up.”

I was excited about the bike from the first article I saw for it. That was in late 1976. I don't recall the exact date when I bought it, but the month on the license plate is May so my guess would be late March or early April. That timing is interesting, as Adin was born that same year, on March 22^{nd .}

I don't think the purchase was some sort of “Mid-life Crisis” triggered by his birth. After all, my cycling history predates that major life change by several decades, and I was riding a very nice Suzuki GT550 two-stroke at the time. I don't know exactly what triggered the decision...but can imagine aesthetics and excitement about the new model playing some part. The GT was chunky and purposeful, but the GS was svelte, and the lightly metallic blue-green paint job was particularly appealing and elegant. Not the least of the more balanced look were the four exhaust pipes, compared to the unbalanced three pipes of the GT. There was also the advantage of disc brakes at both ends compared to the drums of the GT...and the test ride articles all raved about the handling. 

At any rate, I bought what at the time I thought was the “second year model” from long defunct Selby Motors on El Camino Real in Redwood City, just north of Whipple Avenue...the building has been a pet supply store for decades. And almost 40 years later I began the project in the mid Fall of that auspicious pandemic year of 2020.

One of the interesting aspects of many restoration projects is the learning experience. The first one of these I did (the Siata) frustrated me because I wanted to race rather than wrench, but over the years I have learned to make the journey more pleasant by simply relaxing and letting things proceed at their own pace rather than trying to rush to an arbitrary deadline. That rarely works out well at all. If nothing else, parts acquisition depends on research, availability, and supply issues which are often beyond the control of the builder or vendor. There is little sense in getting frustrated while waiting for a critical part to show up.

After surveying and analyzing the condition of the GS, I spent weeks “doing my homework” to determine that all the parts I thought I would need appeared to be available. In reality though, just because those parts were listed on one or more sites did NOT mean they were a stocked item, nor that they might have to be special ordered from Japan, nor even that they were still being built or in existence anywhere on the planet.. But the Internet is the greatest research tool in history, and how much longer and more frustrating the search would have been without the information residing there.

In addition to parts suppliers there are usually one or more user forums with communities of folks with similar machinery...and these are often good sources to learn of suppliers or techniques and problem solving approaches. Of course, there is also plenty of inaccurate, misleading, and just plain wrong material out there as well, and it takes some critical analysis to separate out reliable information from noise...but this is also true in face-to-face evaluations of people and businesses. 

As I poked around I found some information about the model which was enlightening, and some which was and remains confused and costly in time and/or money. 

Though the GS came out in 76, I learned that all bikes built in that year as well as in 77 are considered 1977 models...and that they are not all the same. I kept running across material listing the “1977 Suzuki GS750”...as well as other 77 models with a letter suffix, the lowest and presumably earliest of which seemed to be a “1977 Suzuki GS750B” variant. All the sites supplying OEM parts, until recently, would pull up diagrams purporting to apply to the “B” version, whether or not I specified that in my search terms.  

. But at some point these sites have dropped the “1977 GS750” non-lettered menu selection.

I have the original owner's manual as well as an original factory service manual purchased with the bike. These make no reference to this “B” suffix. That led me to the builder's plate on the steering head frame tube. This contains not only the model and VIN number but also the build date for the bike. The model number on that plate is simply “GS750” without a suffix. 

Interestingly, in only one place have I seen a reference to an “A” version, and this chart is blank for the “A” column and GS750 model, nor does it list a “GS750B” on the left side. 

More searching led me to this site, put up but apparently no longer maintained, by a fellow in Scandinavia:https://www.suzukicycles.org/GS-series/index.html. It is a comprehensive listing of all Suzuki variants of the GS750 and other models, though it is not free of some conflicting and confusing information: Of particular interest to me was the date the model was publicly unveiled (October 1976), and that by January of 1977 it had already changed in specification.

The original GS had, as mine does, a single front disc brake using a floating single piston caliper, and spoked (wire) wheels. But twin discs apparently became standard issue by January of 1977, and alloy wheels were also standard on the “E” version by February of 1978. Supposedly the non lettered model was still available at that point, with twin discs and wires. 

So, according to this site, mine was built in 1976 even though I purchased it in the mid-Spring of 1977? Indeed. Though I never recall doing so before, I looked at the serial number plate fastened to the steering neck on the frame of the bike. And there found not only that serial number, but a build date...of September 1976, the month before the public announcement!

Pre-printed year plate with stamped month

 

There is something else revealing about this plate. The year is silkscreened or otherwise pre-printed on it. Only the month of the build and the serial number are stamped into the metal. This means, of course, that this plate was only used in 1976. No bike built in 77 would have it. Not only is mine, quite unexpectedly, a 1976 bike (though all such are considered 1977 models), but it was built before the public unveiling and is thus one of the very earliest GS750s. And a very gutsy move by Suzuki. They gambled from the beginning that the model would be successful!

I have yet to find a key to deciphering the serial number. Mine is 14677, but the leading digit might indicate, as it does on my Porsche, the model year. Perhaps my bike is the 4677^th GS750 built? Of how many? I have no idea and have found no list of production volume. At any rate, it represents my own willingness to “gamble” on a very early new model, though I did not know at the time exactly how early it was. 

Then there's the paint, or more precisely, the color. My research located a site able to supply the correct colored vinyl striping for the fuel tank and rear valance over the fender and tail light. The tank and valance are the only painted bits on the bike other than the frame. The site lists and shows three different colors for1977...a red, an orange, and my own bike's more refined and subtle slightly metallic blue green. I have absolutely no memory of seeing anything BUT that color...was I just “blinded by the light?” Did Selby not have another color in stock? I have no idea. 

Fortunately I did my homework and did not just order paint from the first, indeed the only, place I could find claiming to be able to supply the “Potomac Blue,” which is the name Suzuki used. 

I plowed around bike forums where others were struggling with the same issue of trying to identify the color and mixing codes for the paint. I viewed so much material that I'm not sure, but perhaps it was on one of these where I found that name. In looking at photos online it seemed to me that many of them were “too blue,”  but thought perhaps it was problems of color fidelity of films, digital photos, lighting, and screens. I have seen this in many other photos after decades in serious amateur photography.

Too Blue...Eu or UK version?

But this was not the case this time. I found another place where the Suzuki “paint numbers” were listed, including links to OEM supply sites. Usually, with these codes in hand, any paint shop can access the specific mixing formulae. That was true with the 914 as well as Adin's Sprite, but these were large production run vehicles from major European automotive manufacturers, not a smaller production run of motorcycles from a firm in Asia.

Turns out it was well that I kept probing. I had found only one shop which claimed to be able to match the paint with the mixing codes they had. Phil at RS Motorbike Paint in the UK was both understanding and helpful. Once we realized what he had was called “03J” and the code I needed was “03E,” even though the name might have matched the color would not. We guess that these colors were not only unique to the 1977 model year, but that the difference might be between the color as used in the US versus the UK. Thus the “too blue” bike in the photo. 

I also learned to not automatically trust the diagrams which, though obviously supplied by the factory (and used by ALL OEM suppliers), are not necessarily correct for my bike. Here's an example. When Suzuki went to dual front discs they obviously needed a front master cylinder with a different internal diameter than that needed for the original single disc model. After getting a very expensive rebuild kit for a “1977 GS750” I learned the hard way that the ID of my cylinder was bigger than the seals and piston supplied in this kit. Since there does not seem to be much knowledge out there about the “pre B” or “A” version of the GS and the differences between them, at least some parts for the “B” simply will not work. 

In addition, I have learned to look very closely at those factory diagrams and the associated part numbers. If the numbers are identical between the “B” and other 1977 variants I learned that the part might well be for the other models. Even with different part numbers, since my bike is an “A” and the earliest parts described are for the 77 “B,” that part might well not work. While there are few differences between the variants, the ones which exist are non-trivial. 

The diagrams also need to be viewed closely. For example, the front brake calipers and forks for the “B” shown online shows a single front disc, which does not match other information I have about the model. 

Though I did not expect it, Ebay became a highly utilitarian source for some items. But no matter the source, figuring out dimensions was an issue. These are only rarely provided, and it is really hard to figure out if a non-OEM part would fit from a non-dimensioned photo. 

No matter where the part or fitting comes from, not being able to use it pushes any planned scheduling into a crap shoot. I'm not in a hurry with the project, though returning items to Amazon is as easy as it gets but is still a delay and inconvenient, and things just get less easy from there with other suppliers (oddly, Ebay in many instances is as easy as Amazon). And sometimes, with a $15 part and no free return shipping, it just doesn't pay to send it back. I have a shelf full of stuff like that now.

An interesting side note is how much has to be sourced outside the US, and how much of that, including custom manufactured replacement parts such as these fuel intake manifold pieces 

Fuel manifold pieces   

 come from the UK. Though I have known for years that this original source of the Industrial Revolution is still a nation of small “fiddlers” and “makers” it still seems crazy to me that it is also a hotbed of OEM and aftermarket replacement parts for Japanese bikes which are now close to a half century old. While I was able to use my original manifold pieces and did not order the ones shown, I have bought two items out of England, with a third to be purchased shortly, as I move from completing the mechanical work to replacing cosmetic pieces.

The side covers have a GS750 plastic emblem above the “Suzuki Motors Ltd.” decal, as can be seen this photo of the cover.

 For 1976 the “GS” was in silver, with other 77 versions using gold. That gold version might also have been used for some time (I did not check) as this version is readily available from OEM as well as Ebay sellers. ">Not so for the silver variant. None of the OEM suppliers I viewed showed it as available, and I only found one pair on Ebay from (you guess it) England. Since I am trying to keep the bike as close to original as possible, I was not interested in the gold version. The dilemma was that I dropped the bike once approaching the China Basin bridge and lost the emblem from the left over. Otherwise I would have just kept the old ones in place or perhaps would have settled for buying the (much less costly) gold ones.

The next UK purchase was a tool for synchronizing the four carbs. In the 70s I used a rather crude device consisting of a masonite board with lines penned across a painted white background at set intervals. There were four glass or plastic tubes transecting these lines and glued to the masonite. Attached to each was a long surgical rubber hose. Each tube had a bit of mercury in it. I guess there were fittings with the setup to attach the hoses to which screwed into the intake of the carbs, normally covered by allen head screws, but I really don't recall. 

The concept was that with the bike running at a high idle, you adjusted each carb so that the height the mercury reached for three cylinders matched that of the highest column for any. I assume it worked well, though spilling mercury or worse, sucking it into the motor, was a concern.

This thing eventually deteriorated to the point it was no longer usable. Heat turned the hoses to mush, and the mercury did eventually escape. Though the bike is now running, this photo of the 36 year old plugs I was using to get it going show clearly that, from left to right, the #1 and #2 cylinders are clearly running significantly richer than #3 and #4. 

Numbered from Left to Right

There are two systems available today for tuning. One uses circular vacuum gauges, hoses, and carb adapters. The gauges are fastened to a metal “board.” The other uses either a column of some liquid less toxic than mercury, or in the case of the most costly version which reviewers said was the best, lightweight metal cylinders, within tubes calibrated against a marked scale, but functioning like that crude 1977. Both the gauge and tube type are available from sellers on Amazon. I also stumbled across a site with links to the supplier of the “best version” (the one with the metal cylinders) for less money, shipped direct from the manufacturer in...Northern Ireland!

Before: Out of Synch

In Synch After Adjustments

Some of the chrome on the bike is sadly deteriorated.I can live with some of this to keep cost down, but the front fender in particular is too visible and important to just leave “as is.” So assuming a replacement was available, should I repair and rechrome mine, or should I replace it? The OEM sellers do not sell new fenders, so I investigated costs of repair.. For the luggage rack there would be no alternative to repair, as the unit was made by Samsonite and is no longer available anywhereI t consists of eight tubular parts and the cost was too high to contemplate, so I used a rust remover and ultra-fine steel wool to clean it as best I could, touched up some small spots with silver paint, and then clear coated it with high quality gloss brake caliper paint.

The quote I got for repairing my fender was almost exactly the price of the new one I found in (wait for it)...England. It is hard to judge the quality of a chrome shop sot I am opting for replacement. This seller too was in the UK and I seem to be making a lot of new friends in the UK there.

I suspect it is long past time to end this missive as it is turning into a doctoral dissertation instead of a blog post. So here is a photo of the bike as it sits today (sans luggage, which is off to allow access to mechanical bits). The lower front forks will be repainted with the same silver as the motor. Photos usually make things look better than they are, and though that is true here, the picture is not totally misleading. I wish I had some shots taken before I started, but the one below of an engine cover provides some feeling for the rather sad state the GS was in last October. It's come a long way, baby. 

Before: Peeling Paint and Corroded Side Cover

As She Looks Currently, though far from completed