The Yamaha FS1-E
What is it about the Seventies sports moped that continues to allure? Niall Mackenzie pops out for a bag of chips to ponder the question.
Few machines have had such an impact on a generation of fledgling motorcyclists as the humble, yet mighty, Yamaha FS1-E.
For many the moped was as big a part of the 1970s and that decade’s culture as flares, glam rock, daft hair, power cuts and Pan’s People. The moped gave a whole generation of kids a new-found freedom, a way of not only getting from A to B, but a means of expression and access to a whole new social life. Many of us would never forget our first moped and the king of them all was the Yamaha FS1-E. Today the Fizzy is more than just a mini-motorcycle, it’s become a symbol of a carefree, more fun-loving time and the prices have begun to reflect that.
In the UK at least, the sport moped phenomenon came about as a result of Government policy.
On December 15, 1971, Conservative Transport Minister John Peyton brought into existence the ‘sixteener law’ which could have been the death knell for young, wannabe motorcyclists in this country. In the good old days you could saddle up anything and go ride. Then over successive generations a proficiency test was introduced and later a 250cc limit. Then, those in power felt something should be done to get novice riders off of 250s and onto 50cc machines equipped with pedals, commonly called a ‘moped’. It was hoped that the number of accident statistics for new bike riders would be cut.
Initially all seemed well and casualties fell, but then the manufacturers began to notice that there would be an advantage if they could give youngsters what they wanted, rather than the elderly, pedestrian 50cc slopeds beloved of shopping grannies and district nurses. They could see that if they ditched the bicycle seat and wire basket up front the ‘sports moped’ could well be a success.
The Japanese weren’t too au fait with the ‘moped’ so it took the Europeans to be the driving force behind it – because that was what they needed. Yamaha luckily already had something that almost fitted the bill.
FS1 was born
The FS1 was eventually sold in the Netherlands in 1970, restricted down to 25mph for their domestic market. The machine used the cylinder of the F5B, but the FS1’s original high-level exhaust was replaced by one similar to that seen on the F5B, in a more traditional low-level position. The timing of the motor was altered and a 10mm carb replaced the normal 16mm unit. Available in Candy Blue or Candy Orange, these machines were an enormous success with 13,500 sold during 1970-71.
So what was the Fizzy’s secret? Its beauty was probably its simplicity: a humble pressed-steel frame, a basic 49cc disc-valve motor producing just under 5bhp at 7000rpm. The bike’s 17in wheels gave it an assured ride and the motor was pokey enough for a 16-year-old. Okay, so eventually another bit of legislation saw the sports moped wings clipped a bit. From August 1, 1977, any moped sold was restricted to 30mph (give or take 5mph) which led to many canny dealers pre-registering the older, de-restricted models before the August deadline.
My own relationship with the Fizzy was when, in 1977, I had managed to get a provisional licence and I bought – for £80 – a very tired 1975 DX that a mate had from new. Sadly it was pretty knackered. The gear lever rounded the splines on the selector shaft so I had to use mole grips to change gear. Later the left-hand side of the main stand fell off so I heated and bent the remaining part of it to make a side-stand. I considered that a performance part!
Thankfully today such nonsense is not needed as there are a host of people ready to help with any Fizzy part. As said before, nostalgia comes at a price these days and even original ‘394 model’ projects come in at around a grand, with the later 3F6 model a few hundred quid cheaper. You’ll even see some machines made to look like a Fizzy, such is the allure.
Mint early models can now go for up to five grand, with differing year models of varying quality sitting in between. Me? Well, I had to have one, so I stumped up £1100 to get back into the Fizzy club at the end of 2013 and then spent a fair few quid restoring this one you see in these pages. In fact, when I got a call requesting a full road test on my 1977 FS1-E, I’ll admit to being more than just a tad nervous.
You see, my last Fizzy run out was the 2015 Donington Park Classic festival where I hammered round the circuit for two days. Well, nearly. All had gone really well until the last session on the Sunday when the motor went tight while I was fully tucked in along the back straight. Fortunately my old two-stroke racing skills hadn’t left me, so I instantly pulled in the clutch and free wheeled to the side of the track. A Fizzy club member in attendance feared the worst as he said a lock up at 50mph would normally result in a wrecked piston and barrel. It was a great weekend but I was still gutted to be wheeling my broken pride and joy into the van that night. I’d not had a worse feeling since dropping the thing off the side of the ramp when I was trying to ride it into my van…
After a top-end strip down (which takes about five minutes) I was amazed to find the barrel intact with the only damage being a heavily scuffed piston front and rear. The rings had survived too, so after a good buff up with petrol-soaked, wet-and-dry paper, I rebuilt her and crossed my fingers.
The ride
The track was fun but the FS1E’s natural habitat will always be scooting round towns and exploring countryside lanes, so it was only right that Bertie should show up with the photographer Gary and I should take them both for a bag of chips and that we should go the pretty way near my home in the Midlands.
In more ways than one it was yet another trip down memory lane. My yellow and black DX gave me a new-found freedom, allowing me to travel far and wide. Okay, it was mostly just down the road to The Pines Chippy in Denny. To this day that feeling still comes back when I sample the unique sound and smell of these great little bikes.
And I still prefer the paddle start method with my lightweight Fizzy. In 1976 it looked cool but more importantly, kick-starting could play havoc with boney shins and Brutus jeans when clashing with the pedal mechanism. Considering there is very little power available, pulling away is easy and helped greatly with the low first gear and feather light clutch. And for me at least, that low first gear was brilliant as I grew up near countless country trails and paths. The nearest was Carron Glen where I honed some good basic trials skills riding over and around hills and quarries.
The bolt upright riding position is fine for around town but for speedier riding the rear pillion pegs are perfectly placed for comfier, more streamlined travel. Your left foot might be a long way from the gear lever but that’s a small price to pay for looking good and getting the perfect slipstream. These days, braking on modern bikes is mostly an effortless one or two-fingered affair with the front brake, but that’s certainly not the case on this bike. It is incredible how much things have improved as even at 30mph my front drum brake does very little for the slowing down process. For sure the DX model would have been better but I soon remembered rear brakes played a much bigger role back then, and quite often (like my Fizzy) the rear anchor was better than the front.
The ‘all-down’ four-speed gearbox has nicely spaced ratios and on the speedo at least, I was seeing 50mph with any decent stretch of straight road. Tales of 60mph plus from sixteener-specials then and now are just that: tales from people who probably had more McEwan’s or Woodpecker than was good for them when it comes to telling stories. That said, there might only be five-bhp on tap but being a two-stroke, there is lots of fun to be had timing gear changes for maximum acceleration and speed. Anyone who has ridden Honda’s competition from back in the day, the four-stroke SS50, will remember it as a depressing experience. Sorry, but the Fizzy had it beat.
So, it wouldn’t have been a proper Fizzy test without a chip shop stop, especially as I was insisting on Bertie paying, so after having fun buzzing through the local villages of Donisthorpe, Moira and Shellbrook it was on to Nick’s Fish Bar. I’m not sure why but chippies were the social nucleus for the youth of the Seventies. Where I grew up, on any night of the week teenagers, mostly with machines up to 250cc, gathered at the Pines Chippy to eat, drink, mess around and sometimes even grab a girlfriend. Grab? Okay, maybe that was just me.
Each bike I own brings back special memories for different reasons and the Fizzy was the start of a very special journey for me. Nearly 40 years on, this little bike is a hoot to ride and still brings a huge grin to my face.
At the end of our test we threw the chip wrappers in the bin and said our farewells. As it turned out I was only a mile from home but I couldn’t stop myself from making a substantial detour. I challenge anyone to go home early when they can spend more time on their Fizzy.