KAWASAKI KH750
Far out, man. This 1973 Candytone Purple H2 750 has totally blown Jeff’s brain
Jeff Ware rides a mighty triple Down Under.
Ihate to use the M word, but I have to: the ‘Modern’ H1 supercharged beast was a highlight of my testing tasks a few years ago.
Hell, I thrashed it so hard Kawasaki made me buy them a new rear tyre, rear fender and inner guard as there was so much melted rubber up the rear end of the Ninja. After the test, I just had to ride an original, but I wasn’t so keen on the 500 H1, it was the H2 Mach IV 750 I wanted to try. I wasn’t born when the bike came out, but I have read enough about them to get the picture. Wild, unpredictable, uncontrollable, insane! Or is it? I’m fortunate enough to have access to a private test facility that is near my home. I use it for all of my performance testing of modern bikes. It is a 22 corner, 3.6-mile track that is out of this world. A while back I organised a huge two-day test fest of 20 classic bikes and was so lucky to have Erik Soetens bring along this H2, along with a mint Jaffa 900, custom Z900 and an Eddie Lawson Rep. It was, however, the KH I was really keen to ride. Erik was a mate of my old boss Len Willing and was a racer in the 1970s, growing up with the Willing brothers and Mick Doohan and Kevin Magee’s old mechanic, Dudley Lister. Erik has a neat collection now and has a soft spot for old Kwakas. He could not find the right condition Mach IV here in Oz so he decided to bring one over from the USA where there seem to be quite a few around in mint, low mileage, unrestored condition. “I’m not going to tell you what I paid for the bike, but it is one of the best examples I’ve ever seen,” smiles Erik as we chat trackside pre-ride. “It still has the original paperwork of sale under the seat, along with owner’s manual and related paperwork. You don’t see that very often.” The bike is totally original with old tyres as well, so kitting up to ride the bike, I’m getting bloody nervous – a bad reputation, even worse tyres, limited time and no self-control… Hmm, ahh, screw it, I’ve got a credit card if anything goes wrong and I’ve always wanted a triple!
Jeans on, classic jacket, classic gloves and a white Arai, I head to the H2 and get the run-down from Erik: “Don’t f*ck it up!” Cheers mate, that’s some quick briefing… I’ve just ridden an ex-factory RS125 GP bike, RD350LC Kenny Roberts Rep, and I’m two-stroked up when I hop on the H2. Erik has just done some laps to give the bike a run and make sure all is well before I head out and to sort a plug issue. The bike is dropping a cylinder so I’m hoping I get a good run myself before it happens again. I’m crossing my fingers while I still have 10 of them, I jump on the bike and can’t believe how light it feels, or how narrow the fuel tank and seat are.
With the wide bars it just feels so different to what I imagined. To be honest, it feels more like a tourer than a performance naked bike, even compared to a Z1. I fold the right foot-peg up, turn the fuel on and the key, and kick the beastly triple into life. The standard pipes are so loud by modern standards and the engine vibes like any big air-cooled two-stroke: three 250cc singles in a row, it is just mental! I give it a few big revs to clear the pipes, grab the first cog and head off out on to the proving ground feeling like Gregg Hansford. If only I had a pair of my Dad’s old flares on… As I short-shift and get a feel for the tyres and the brakes, I start to question what the bike is really like. It has a bit of torque, I’m surprised, and it is actually quite well behaved and easy to ride. The brakes are crap by modern levels, but they work ok and there is no weaving, bucking, shaking. Hmmm… There is loads of grip here, so even the worst tyres tend to hook up, so after a lap I wind that throttle on and open up the three Mikunis. Bracing myself for one of the most revered, feared, unpredictable powerbands I’ve read about, I go full throttle. The bike pulls with force, building and building acceleration as the tacho swings towards 6000rpm and I’m grinning as I wait for this mega top-end kick, then, as quickly as I get there, the power flattens out and it is time to grab third. I repeat the process, revving the engine to the 7500rpm red line. Each time I’m met with a strong top-end, but more useable power spread for a two-stroke than outright menacing arm-wrenching snap. It’s, frankly, disappointing. The first time I’ve ever been disappointed that an engine is MORE useable than the manufacturer statements and public reputation says. I wanted to be scared sh*tless, but to be honest it doesn’t feel that much quicker than a current learner legal bike! Ouch! I can hear you all gasping now…
I get the hang of the motor and push on. This time I start to lap just about as fast as I feel comfortable doing on the bike, trying to explore the limits. It’s about now that the H2 turns from thrilling but controllable to a spaghetti monster trying to flick me into the Gum Trees. As the bike weaves, wobbles, bucks and tries to spit me off into the bush, my heart rate goes north. I’m so loose on the H2 that even the bloody stoner Koalas are getting out of the way of my potential crash spot! I call them ‘stoners’ because they get ripped on gum leaves, that is why they sit there and munch on them all day. I decide to slow it down after having trouble doing exactly that when the brakes faded after just half a lap of hard braking! Smoothing things back out again, the bike becomes more civilised. It’s like my wife of a morning before and after coffee. The change is amazing, like two completely different personalities, and the similarities don’t end there as I realise, the older something is, the less it can be pushed before it snaps and morphs into an angry machine that wants to kill. It’s Widowmaker teamwork! Then, just when I think I have it all under control, the bike drops a cylinder, just like that. I limp it back to the pits and hop off. I stir Erik up when he asks, wide-eyed with a big grin, what I thought of h k “I h n h hin w be learner legal these days.” He swears, etc. I add: “But the thing tried to kill me and I never want to ride one again. No wonder it has such low miles!” At the end of the day, when cold beers were cracked and many a chat had with various owners present, we concluded that perhaps the H2 is, like just about all bikes of our own youth no matter our age, and any machine that was ground-breaking, more legend than reality and has had 46 years to build a mythical reputation through rose-coloured vi ni I Wh i .