1984’s Kawasaki GP z 750

Not every bike can be a winner and Kawasaki’s mid-Eighties GPz-750 was one such near-miss. Though well worthy of compliment, the superiority of its rivals relegated it to runner-up status.

When the GPz was around I used to pay my rent by delivering parcels around London on a CX500. Today I settle my bills by judging bikes like the Kawasaki and this makes the idea of a quick spin on one a lot more appealing.

The 750 reminded me a bit of those darker dispatch days, with its slightly ‘used and abused’ look. Battle scars on its black-finished engine, a cracked side panel and a fair few rusty nuts and bolts give the appearance of a bike that’s seen a bit of action.

Maybe, like me, it had helped to deliver the odd document or two during its time. The trademark engine-killing high revs greet the cold start, making me cringe at the mechanical self-harm. But once the choke can be flicked off, the air-cooled inline four soon settles down to a distinctly audible rustle and clatter on tickover. Warming the motor further reveals a slight reluctance to rev.

Restricted by just two valves per pot, the gas flow isn’t healthy enough to give such an immediate response to twist-grip tugging. The inline four doesn’t sound especially stifled, but so characteristic is its trademark noise and unwillingness to increase its volume, I reckon I could have dated it while blindfolded.

Another historic reminder is the ‘sit up and beg’ riding position. It may well be from an age when a fair few sportbikes were back-breakers (Italian models mainly, but Jap stuff like GSX-Rs too), yet the GPz offers a comfy enough perch to invite longer rides. The fairing, a fuller version found on the later spec models, fuel gauge, and air suspension, all add to the civility.

I took up the invitation to spend a few hours on board by brimming the tank, giving me what I expected would be around a 160-mile experience. Opinion on what level of enjoyment the trip would be likely to generate was mixed. As it turned out, there were the usual highs and lows. Though as with all things in life, it’s your attitude to things that ultimately dictates your final verdict.

The early miles revealed an advantage of the two-valve set up with the motor delivering a fair bit of flexibility. You can appreciate why five gears are easily enough, and it’s not long before you realise dancing on the gearlever is not a prerequisite to making good headway. In saying that, progress can never be too swift, as the ‘Oh do I have to?’ reluctance of the motor becomes apparent whenever demands are too high.

Spin it above 7000rpm and the rewards do get greater, but the ‘rush’ is over by the redline at 10 grand. And with just a claimed 85bhp to play with (and I’d bet that’s a lot less by the time it reaches the back tyre), you need to readjust your speed ambitions and realise an Eighties’ sportbike (and a slightly second-rate one at that) shouldn’t be expected to trouble lap records.

Pragmatic assessment needs to extend to the Kawasaki’s chassis performance, too. As you might expect, it exhibits a long, lazy and weighty feel. And though the steering itself is quite nice and neutral, you can tell the rest of the bike trails behind the prompt turning front-end a little. Unsurprisingly, braking power isn’t (thanks to the basic spec of the single pot calipers) much to write home about. With fairly plush yet mushy suspension to float along on, if not depend on to deliver total control and feedback, you’re

reminded of the wisdom of avoiding 10 tenths riding.

Judging matters of dynamic ability on scores alone, I wasn’t initially rating the Kwack too highly. But as I’ve come to realise when riding bikes from bygone eras, you’ve got to be patient. Given time, they usually tend to become more endearing, compensating with virtues that dynos and stopwatches can’t measure. And sure enough, with the all-important appropriate attitude, I started viewing the 750 with a bit more optimism. The passage of hours and miles might not have altered how well the bike actually rode, but it did change the context in which I rated it.

With a reconfigured scale of appraisal I got the chance to evaluate the GPz more fairly and fully. It was actually quick enough to thrill a bit, and though its handling may well have felt a bit lethargic when tackling back lanes, the stability and way it accurately tracked along offered useful compensation. Braking inadequacy only needed less speed, more anticipation and a firmer tug on the lever to put right.

Once in a more charitable frame of mind, I forgot its shortcomings and focused on the positives. The 750 works well enough, is sufficiently usable and practical to ride and is still a bit of a classic by virtue of its age. I found it refreshing to be given a challenge from a bike that requires a more exact style of riding to get the most from. When I also considered its rarity and low value, I ended up giving it a firm nod of approval.

This example isn’t one of those precious ‘hide don’t ride’ bikes, and got my vote because of it. The GPz might not have been a winner in the 1980s, and it hasn’t climbed any higher up the ladder since. But it’s not a loser either, and though it took me time to see it in a better light, in the end it let me do just that. It might not have been quite as good as the competition in its day, but when its rivals set the standard as high as they did, it didn’t really matter. The Kawasaki has the power to please, and surely that is the most important ingredient in any bike.