Reliving my youth
- Thread starter flhtpi
- Start date
Pig9r
Living Legend
Very cool. I always liked the air scoops on the top of the cylinders.
HellFire
Legend
- Joined
- Aug 16, 2008
- Messages
- 4,518
My brother used to have a Yamaha two stroke street bike. The two pipes came out the rear on each side real close to the ground. It would leave streaks of blue smoke right at ground level as it pulled away. On calm days it would hang there just above the ground, it was fun just to ride around in big circles in a parking lot making a blue fog. lol
xhdskip
Living Legend
yea, I had a GT 360 myself.
I remembered the air scoop as soon as I saw your picture.
Hated mixing the gas an oil though.
I remembered the air scoop as soon as I saw your picture.
Hated mixing the gas an oil though.
snuffcityrider
Living Legend
Very nice, I remeber the two stroke days. Had a Yamaha 350 (first bike) and later the Kawasaki 750.
scot in exile
Living Legend
At one of the Rockets Across America meets we were riding Deals gap and as we rode into the store parking area all you could see were two stroke bikes, it was a two stroke(bikes that is) meeting that weekend and boy could you smell burning oil in the air and the sound of a thousand killer bees.
Ridgerunner
.040 Over
I haven't had a two cycle since 1971, but I still have a four cycle 1983 Suzuki GR650 that looks remarkably like your bike. Different color, same style. It's still a fun bike to ride on occasions. It has just over 13,000 miles on it.
atomsplitter
Living Legend
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2007
- Messages
- 3,406
- Location
- Keller, TX
- Ride
- 17 T-120 Black, 20 Bobber Blk, 22 Speed Triple RS
I had one of those (1972) GT 550 Indy's a few years back. You of course took the easy way out and bought one pristine and in good order. I got a barn bike with 20+ years of crust I restored.
Shameless Plug:
I have written of my exploits with the Indy in my upcoming book, "Lessons in Lunacy, Confessions of a Motorcycle Nut."
Here's a bit of the draft for that chapter:
As an enthusiastic motorcyclist, I sometimes find myself saying and doing things that tend to make me question my sanity (something my co-workers do routinely). Recently a co-worker told me about how much he’d enjoyed motorcycling while serving in the Armed Services in the early 1970’s. After regaling me for some time about adventures aboard his bike, I just had to ask why he got rid of a machine that provided so much satisfaction. His reply shook me to my motorcycling core because he still had the bike! It was tucked away, he confessed, in a corner of his barn. So as an avid enthusiast I queried him as to why he didn’t get it out and get it running. No time, too many other commitments, kids in college, grass needs mowed (smoked, whatever), hang nail last year, weather could turn cloudy and sundry other maladies of daily life were keeping him from enjoying his now sentimental past-time pleasure. So as any avid riding enthusiast might offer, I politely suggested that I take the bike, clean and tune it and all he had to do was just pay for the few bits and bobs used (or even new if available). He readily agreed after just 8 or 9 months of persistent dogged badgering. So on a late-summer afternoon I drove to his house in Ottawa, Kansas to pick up his bike. My first impression at eyeing the mechanical lump dumped on his drive was that there were probably few if any native rodents, insects, arachnids, or reptiles that had not at one time or other lodged, nested or hunted dinner somewhere in the internals of what used to be a 1972 Suzuki GT 550 Indy. If fossils were found it would be a Paleontological wonderland. The bike had that true barn patina encrusting all its chrome, steel, painted and alloy parts with spider- web decorations at every open space available. The only parts not completely crusted with barn mung were the tires, which looked to be the original set from ‘72.
The owner stood there beaming at his beloved, “Looks pretty good after washing it,” he proudly proclaimed. “Oh, yeah,” I said, my mind reeling at what it must have looked like before taking suds, a brush and water to it. “I bought it new in ’72 and had one accident with it,” he stated with a sheepish grin. I had already surmised the taped on handlebar controls and bent headlight brackets were the result of his encounter with an object, like the pavement. “So how come you never fixed it?” I asked with deepening concern about how much I was committing to. “I did, and rode it a couple more years before I parked it up in the shed,” he stated matter-of-factly, which also explained the custom sparkle metal-flake paint applied to his bent parts. “Oh,” I said with growing alarm. We then loaded it onto my trailer and strapped it down for the trip back to my shop and all the way home I was hoping it would not disintegrate into a cloud of brown dust from the constant pounding of a 55 mph breeze. When I got home the first thing I wanted to do was take a bath in Raid Ant & Roach to ensure nothing infesting my cargo was also infesting me.
Shameless Plug:
I have written of my exploits with the Indy in my upcoming book, "Lessons in Lunacy, Confessions of a Motorcycle Nut."
Here's a bit of the draft for that chapter:
As an enthusiastic motorcyclist, I sometimes find myself saying and doing things that tend to make me question my sanity (something my co-workers do routinely). Recently a co-worker told me about how much he’d enjoyed motorcycling while serving in the Armed Services in the early 1970’s. After regaling me for some time about adventures aboard his bike, I just had to ask why he got rid of a machine that provided so much satisfaction. His reply shook me to my motorcycling core because he still had the bike! It was tucked away, he confessed, in a corner of his barn. So as an avid enthusiast I queried him as to why he didn’t get it out and get it running. No time, too many other commitments, kids in college, grass needs mowed (smoked, whatever), hang nail last year, weather could turn cloudy and sundry other maladies of daily life were keeping him from enjoying his now sentimental past-time pleasure. So as any avid riding enthusiast might offer, I politely suggested that I take the bike, clean and tune it and all he had to do was just pay for the few bits and bobs used (or even new if available). He readily agreed after just 8 or 9 months of persistent dogged badgering. So on a late-summer afternoon I drove to his house in Ottawa, Kansas to pick up his bike. My first impression at eyeing the mechanical lump dumped on his drive was that there were probably few if any native rodents, insects, arachnids, or reptiles that had not at one time or other lodged, nested or hunted dinner somewhere in the internals of what used to be a 1972 Suzuki GT 550 Indy. If fossils were found it would be a Paleontological wonderland. The bike had that true barn patina encrusting all its chrome, steel, painted and alloy parts with spider- web decorations at every open space available. The only parts not completely crusted with barn mung were the tires, which looked to be the original set from ‘72.
The owner stood there beaming at his beloved, “Looks pretty good after washing it,” he proudly proclaimed. “Oh, yeah,” I said, my mind reeling at what it must have looked like before taking suds, a brush and water to it. “I bought it new in ’72 and had one accident with it,” he stated with a sheepish grin. I had already surmised the taped on handlebar controls and bent headlight brackets were the result of his encounter with an object, like the pavement. “So how come you never fixed it?” I asked with deepening concern about how much I was committing to. “I did, and rode it a couple more years before I parked it up in the shed,” he stated matter-of-factly, which also explained the custom sparkle metal-flake paint applied to his bent parts. “Oh,” I said with growing alarm. We then loaded it onto my trailer and strapped it down for the trip back to my shop and all the way home I was hoping it would not disintegrate into a cloud of brown dust from the constant pounding of a 55 mph breeze. When I got home the first thing I wanted to do was take a bath in Raid Ant & Roach to ensure nothing infesting my cargo was also infesting me.
atomsplitter
Living Legend
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2007
- Messages
- 3,406
- Location
- Keller, TX
- Ride
- 17 T-120 Black, 20 Bobber Blk, 22 Speed Triple RS
If memory serves, the GT 380 was the Sebring, the GT 550 was the Indy and the GT 750 was the LeMans (but everyone referred to it as the "water buffalo"). They also carried a GT 185 in the lineup. My sister-in-law had a GT 185.
