Coop's Corner: Suzuki 4 cylinder 1978

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Suzuki 4 cylinder 1978

The Suzuki 750 and 1000 4 cylinder bikes were making quite an impression on me in 1978. Already being a committed (I'm sure that some would have thought it a good idea, even back then) big four owner, interest in the Suzuki's was an easy step. Especially so because of their improved power and primarily handling, witnessed by me at the roadrace track on numerous weekends. Rumors were out about an upcoming shaft drive Suzuki, possibly an 850 and with my new-found interest in handling and expanding interest in touring, the possibility of a reasonable blend of both in a new bike had me paying attention.

In 1978, I'd left my job in the Twin Cities and moved to Pillager, MN. Following a former boss north, he'd opened a new machine shop in 'Lake Country' and me, not really being tied down, followed him up there. Normally not working weekends, I had plenty of time for exploring and taking trips, usually north to see friends in the Grand Rapids area or further east to the south shore of Lake Superior.

The Ducati was mine, as was the 750 Four, my XL350 and a new acquisition, the Yamaha 250MX that my brother had tired of and all were with me in the northland. Since I lived so near State Forest Land and fireroads, the MX bike and I managed quick spurts on public roadways (crossing and shoulders, honest ;) ) to access the forest roads. I never was much of a jumper, but managed somewhat adequateness at wheelies which was just about the only joy that bike provided me. With more torque, I most likely would have been a bit more joyous.

Long overdue for a big, long distance trip, plans were made to attend the '78 Aspencade in Ruidoso, NM. The event happened each year in early October, celebrating the turning of the aspen leaves in the high country of northern New Mexico and during those years, was a major m/c event in the southwest. I'd done some large group rides, i.e. Toys for Tots, structured Poker Runs, etc. though had never been to a rally before. Dad knew of my plans to go, not really saying much one way or the other. By summer's end, I had strong armed him into joining me for the two week adventure. He and mom had done some long weekend rides with his company's motorcycle club, but he'd not done any long trip like the one we were planning for.

It was a fun, adventurous two weeks and I'll possibly highlight the trip in another Post at a later time.

All of the major manufacturers were present for the Show inside Ruidoso's Convention Center. When I saw the new black 1979 GS850 in the Suzuki booth, the decision was made; I'd be ordering one when I got home. The bike turned into one of my favorites, the most versatile and easiest to live with of almost any I've owned. It didn't hurt one bit that it and I were partners on a 3 1/2 month trip to New England and the Maritime Provinces over the summer of 1979.

No miles yet, touring ready, Feb. 1979........

Cape Breton, Aug. 1979.......

2 comments:

AnonymousJanuary 15, 2012 at 7:46 PM
I always thought the big 4 banging Suzuki was like one of my fathers 50's 4 door Buick. Large, comfy and did it's job well. But the styleing cue came from a brick.
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Coop a.k.a. CoopdwayJanuary 15, 2012 at 7:55 PM
And that's very fair......but it sure did work well for what it was. More than once, I've been accused of running short on style and that's fair as well ;)
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"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)