So you are thinking about rebuilding an old bike, and you are wondering if it is worth the effort. Here's the full story. I don't know if it is any help to you, but feel free to read on, then form your own opinion. Mail me if you want to chat any of it through.

This is a bit of a long read, so if you are interested, save the page and read it offline.

I had wanted another bike for ages. It was about 18 years since I last owned one, although I had kept the fire alight by riding other peoples bikes whenever I could. In 1996 an opportunity came up to look at a Suzuki 550, which my friend DTW had heard about. It meant a 160-mile round trip to Hertfordshire one evening, to find out even the most basic facts about the bike. At that stage I didn't know whether it was a 2 Stroke triple or a 4 Stroke four, although that would not have bothered me particularly either way. It was parked in a double garage, filled floor to ceiling with things the owner had collected over the years, and it took a good twenty minutes to clear enough to get it out into daylight. It was a GS550, and the stepped seat suggested it was originally the "L" or Custom model, though it was now wearing ordinary bars instead of the high rise models.

OK, I didn't get out a straight edge and check the wheel and frame alignment, but pushing the thing around the yard suggested that nothing was terribly wrong with it. It had certainly got some evidence of road rash - The Motad pipe and the engine bars looked a touch used. Geoff, the owner explained he had bought it nine years earlier, after the previous owner crashed it. Geoff had repaired some of the main accident damage, ridden it for just 100 miles then tucked it in his garage, where it had stayed ever since.

Cosmetically it was a bit rough. The tank badges were missing, the side panels were available, though the lugs had broken off, and the original camshaft end caps were missing from one side of the engine. Other than that it appeared complete.

At first we turned the starter over with the plug caps removed, purely to move some oil across the engine and prevent any start-up damage, then it was time to try it properly. After about a minute of holding the starter button in, one cylinder caught, followed by another. That was enough to keep it running for a while so we could hear what mechanical disasters were going on inside the lump. It's not very scientific I know, but I still find that a length of wood resting on the engine at one end with my ear against the other helps find those interesting graunching noises. I listened to the top end, then the bottom, and heard nothing too sinister. So far so good!

Next we tried to get the other two cylinders to join in. The plugs were wet, so fuel was getting through, but I was concerned that it might be one of the ignition coils at fault. However, always try the simple things first - By swapping the "good" plugs from the working cylinders we got the other pots working. So, all four pots worked, just not all at the same time. Even on two cylinders I was able to check that the bike could move under its own power. It was strong enough to pull away with a bit of throttle juggling, and it went up in to second gear when asked. A quick test when it was on its center stand proved that all six gears could be selected, and the back wheel spun healthily when the engine was wound up in sixth gear. Finally I went through all of the minor things like switch gear, and was pleased to find that everything worked.

So what had I learned?

• It was straight - No major expense on the frame, though it would need new tyres.
• It ran - just about. There were no obvious death rattles, and some new plugs should see all four pots working at once.
• The power train worked. Clutch and gears all functioned
• All of the bits needed to make it useable were there
• Cosmetically, it was a bit of a dog.

Decision time - Was it viable, and what was I intending to do with it? For me the key was having a bike to ride. I didn't need something in concourse condition, just a hack would do. The cosmetics could come later. This bike fitted the bill. I guess the thing you really need to think of is how long is it likely to take to get it on the road. It was time to discuss money. We discussed £250, which the owner was happy with, and so was I. You'll have to decide for yourselves if that was too much. I think I could probably have got it for a bit less, but neither the owner nor I had any idea what it was really worth. I think it was fair at that price, and certainly haven't regretted it since. At the time, MCN's Classified adverts showed a few "good condition" 550L's of the same age at around £1100 / £1200, so I thought I could afford to spend a bit on sorting it, if it was going to end up with that sort of value. We shook hands on it and went to the pub, like you do.

 I had to wait a couple of weeks before I could go back with a van and pick it up, but I started spending money in the meantime. Early purchases began with a new battery, oil and a filter, a Haynes Manual, plugs, a big can of Gunk, and despite my argument that cosmetics can wait I also bought two new tank badges, and replacements for the missing cam end covers. I was also thinking my way through the work that was needed, and working out how much I could do myself.

Anyone with an average socket set, an impact driver, a selection of spanners and screwdrivers can manage. You also need a good bench vice, and I found my Workmate portable bench was very useful as well. The only special tools I bought were a set of vacuum gauges, and a carb adjusting tool. A torque wrench would have been helpful, but I managed without one.

It was time to get on with it, so I hired a van and went to collect it. I got it home about midnight, and pushed it into the garage. My first impressions? Well, if I'm honest, it looked bloody awful and I wondered just what the hell I had done! Despite the time, I got some spanners out, got rid of the awful backrest / rack, and some really tacky mudflaps that seemed suspiciously like carpet tiles. It looked a bit better, so I went and got some sleep.

The next day I went out and hooked up the battery, fitted the new plugs, and thumbed the starter button. Whirr, whirr, whirr. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Bugger, bugger, bugger! This was something of a disappointment, but taught me a valuable lesson - Be patient.

Once I had stopped swearing, I started to think it through methodically. "Let's work the problem, people" as the man said in Apollo 13. The ignition system was all electronic, so the healthy sparks at all four plugs indicated the problem had to be on the fuel side, which shouldn't really have been a surprise. So I started at the top and worked down.

First stop was the tank, which I drained and rinsed with fresh petrol, cleaned the filter, and added an inline one to the fuel pipe as a precaution. The tank itself was surprisingly clean. A word to the wise - If you are going to drain petrol, do it outside! The fumes in my garage were awful, and I had a hangover that lasted a week from just spending a couple of hours breathing them in. I took some precautions for the fire risk, but didn't think about inhaling the stuff! Be warned!

Next point was the air filter. This was the oil soaked foam variety. I washed it in petrol, (just for fun, as I found I liked the fumes really) and then re-oiled it, but it clearly wasn't the problem. There were no signs of it having broken up and blocked jets. Then it was on to the big stuff - the carbs. Here I had to make a decision. Should I split them to work on them, because if I did that, they would be unbalanced. I decided they would probably have to come apart at some point, so it might as well be now. I had one major worry about the carbs. They were the CV "Constant Vacuum" type, with the rubber diaphragm at the top crucial to their operation. Having been out of use for nine years I thought they were likely to be badly perished, and suspected that might be the problem. That would mean big money - £40 a carb, a bad start to the project. Having got the carbs off the bike I checked the diaphragms before I looked at anything else, and was relieved to find they were in perfect working order. So what was the problem?

Taking off the first float bowl gave the answer. The bowl was lined with a sand-like crystalline substance, which was also all over the jets. The jets themselves were blocked with blobs of a black jelly. Some rubber plugs, which sealed part of the jet structure, had disintegrated, blocking all of those important little holes. Talking to a mechanic later, it seems that the problem had a lot to do with the nice modern 1990's petrol I put in the tank to test the engine. The stuff is a powerful solvent, and had gone to work on the rubber plugs, which had dried out and perished over the idle years, after the old fuel had evaporated leaving the crystalline deposits. At least I knew the problem, and could start work.

When working with carbs you are supposed to clean them delicately with compressed air to avoid enlarging the jets. I used a chisel! It was the only thing that would shift the crystals. I did try soaking each carb in a really hairy solvent, having developed a taste for hallucinogenic fumes by then, but that didn't touch the stuff. So it had to be manual labour. I spent about four hours on each carb, just getting them thoroughly clean before even thinking about reassembling them.

So the carbs were clean, I had checked them thoroughly, reassembled them carefully, and checked the float heights before closing them up. Time to get them back on the bike. Just 8 jubilee clips between me and start-up - Easy isn't it? It only took me four hours! You need to be a gynaecologist to work the bank of carbs between the inlet stubs and the manifold from the air filter box. The only way I could do it in the end was by fitting all the jubilee clips after I had the carbs in place. It was a total bugger of a job, and if the carbs ever have to come off again, a professional can do it! Anyway, I got them on, fitted the tank, replaced the air filter and connected the throttle and choke cables once again. It was ready for another go, so I hit the button. Whirr, whirr, whirr. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Bugger, bugger, bugger!

Time out for a coffee, and anyway the battery was running low from all the attempts at starting. With my caffeine level back up to normal, I checked the plugs again, and found them all wet with fuel, so that was a good sign. I concluded that the battery was low enough that it couldn't both spin the motor and light the fire. I also found that the throttle cable was slack, so the carb butterfly's were therefore completely closed. I tightened up the cable, and took some jump leads off my car's battery to give the bike's cell a helping hand. Turn the key, switch to "Run", and hit that button again. Whirr, whirr, and HOWL! - SHE IS A RUNNER!!

This time all four pots were joining in, and despite the fact that the carb balance was wrong, the motor ran quite evenly. I warmed it up, listening for anything horrible, and heard nothing. A little tinkering had it idling fairly well at about 1200 RPM, and there was only one thing left to do - Ride It. OK, not more than a few hundred yards, but it was enough to prove that she was basically sound. It also proved a few other things. There was an oil leak from behind the final drive cover, and the clutch dragged, but they didn't really matter. The feeling when you make a wreck move, and realise that the rest of the work you must do is going to be worth the effort, is absolute magic.

A running engine makes it easier to decide what to tackle next. I could get the old oil hot enough to drain well, and could flush out the system with some new oil. I dumped this as well, and checked it carefully for swarf and lumpy bits, but there was nothing there. With the oil out, I took the clutch apart, and cleaned the plates, which had become gummed up, as only the lower half had been protected by the oil while it stood idle. I checked the clutch springs. They were shorter than standard, but still within tolerance, so I left them alone. Later wished I hadn't as they shortened more once I started using the bike, and were eventually responsible for a bit of clutch slip. They're cheap, so replace them while you have the thing apart.

Having finished the clutch I looked at the other side of the lump, where the oil leak was coming from. There are three seals under the final drive cover. One behind the FD sprocket, one round the clutch pushrod and another at the end of the gear selector shaft. All three were leaking. When an engine stands idle for a long time, and nine years is certainly long enough, the seals can tend to flatten at the bottom, and when the engine is revived they will leak a bit. No great surprise then, but they are a bit difficult to pull out and replace. I decided that these could be dealt with professionally, and as a temporary cure backed up the old seals with Instant Gasket. Good enough to finish the work, so I fitted a new filter and put in another lot of fresh oil. Again, I replaced all the engine casing bolts with Allen heads. It makes sense - They are much easier to undo, and look smarter.

The front wheel came out and I regreased the bearings, which seemed fine. The front end was OK, so I moved backwards, and completely dismantled the back of the bike. The swing arm bearings had felt OK, and that was confirmed when I got to look at them. A good greasing on reassembly was all that was needed. I cleaned up and resprayed the swing arm and torque arm first, as they were surface corroded. Rear wheel bearings were also OK, the cush drive rubbers a bit worn though serviceable, but both sprockets and the chain were knackered. I fitted new ones as I reassembled. The back brake, also a hydraulic disc, got the same treatment as the front ones.

Tyres, tubes, chain and sprockets added another £250 to the bill so far. I don't know if it is right to include them in the renovation cost, as they are, after all, normal consumables, which you expect to replace. I had a slight problem with the front tyre, which had a much higher profile than the original and fouled the mudguard. I drilled new holes in the mudguard mount, and filed them into slots so I could raise it off the tyre. The mudguard itself was perforated with rust, but not dangerously, so I cleaned it as best I could and left it.

Back together again, I was relieved to find she still started, and riding a few hundred yards more suggested she had gone back together well. I was getting there.

So she ran, and moved, and just about stopped. Time to deal with some of the cosmetic details. I had polished up some of the casings when they were off the bike, getting rid of the usual alloy rot. They looked much better, but I promised them a return visit some time in the future. First I wanted to fit the tank badges, but found that the threads on the mounting plates had been wrecked when the tank was repaired for the previous owner. I sorted this by enlarging the old holes, filling them with epoxy resin, and then taping the badges in place, with the screws embedded in the epoxy. After it had set, the tape was removed and the badges were held firmly in place. The retaining screws could even be gently undone, having formed a thread in the epoxy. Clever, hey?

Epoxy had another part to play when I started work on the side panels. These were OK externally, but four of the six lugs which held them on the bike were damaged. I had acquired some old GS750 panels along with the bike, and these were crap outside, but had lugs intact. I cut the lugs from the 750 panels, and bonded them to the 550's, with epoxy and steel pins through holes I drilled through the middle of the lugs. It has worked reasonably well. Occasionally a lug drops off in cold weather as the epoxy gets brittle, so I am thinking of laying up fibreglass round the join to strengthen the repair.

I had Gunked down the whole bike before I started work. Now I followed that with serious application of Solvol to the brightwork, and the old girl was beginning to look pretty tidy. One other small change I made was to get rid of the old slightly raised bars, and replace them with flat drag pull-back bars, which suited the bike well.

I checked out the electrics - All seemed OK, though the headlight was a bit dim, and the horn had a tendency to sound when the bars were on full lock, but that was soon sorted. A quick check with a multimeter across the battery confirmed that the alternator was working fine.

The next job was a new one for me. I had not had to balance this many carbs before, so I bought a set of vacuum gauges and set to work. It wasn't as hard as I thought. I had two goes at it, and made all my mistakes the first time. Then I went away for another coffee, to calm down and have a think about it. Second time round I got it right, and was amazed at what a difference it made to the running. If you are interested, my initial mistake was keeping too much pressure on the adjuster as I was trying to find the right balance. The pressure was enough to affect the adjustment, so while I thought I had it right, the moment I took pressure off the adjusting screw it was all buggered up again. My advice? Use a light touch.

I still wasn't happy with the feel of the front brakes, and bled them over and over again with no great improvement. Finally I decided it was time for an MOT test, to see how close I had got to making her roadworthy. First time through she failed. The list was a bit longer than I had expected. The headlamp was useless. It turned out that it had the wrong bulb, so there was no reflector to focus the beam. That one was easy to sort. So was the next one, as the wheel alignment was out. This was just down to the chain adjuster marks on the swing arm being unreliable. Some work with a plank and some string soon put it right. The back disk brake had got red hot during the short ride to the test center. The new pads were dragging, so some work with a file to thin them down and clean up the edges was all that was needed. One indicator had a small piece of the lens missing, which I hadn't realised was a fail. Time for more epoxy resin and some paint, which mixed into suitably opaque filler. And that left me with one more problem - the front brakes. They just weren't up to it.

Here I took some advice from the Suzuki Mailing List. I got a lot of useful advice, mostly pointing to the hoses as the problem, so a set of Goodridge braided hoses were ordered. I had high hopes, and fitted them as soon as they arrived. Things were certainly better, not right, but better. I thought the master cylinder was a bit iffy, and my attempts to get a seal repair kit failed, so I got a used replacement from Straightline Racing near Kings Lynn. Again a small improvement, so I took her back for a retest, and while not entirely happy with the brakes, the tester passed her. I had a roadworthy bike at last!

That was two years ago, and I've only done about 1200 miles since, but they are 1200 miles I wouldn't have done if I hadn't taken a chance on buying a bit of a hound. She went in to have those engine seals replaced, but there is still a leak from the gear selector shaft seal. I will replace that again soon, but doing it myself this time. The selector shaft has to be pulled out from the clutch side to release the seal, and I want to fit new clutch plates, so I'll tackle it all together. I've already changed the clutch springs, and had my one minor crisis while doing it. I broke one of the bolts, and had to take the clutch basket away to have the remains of the stud removed.

Have I learned anything? Definitely.

• Any bike is better than no bike.
• Be realistic. What do you want a bike for, and how often will you use it? Does it really need to be a Fireblade? I reckon my Suzi costs me way less than £10 a riding hour to run, including fuel, tax, and fully comp insurance. That's cheap fun, and if I ride it more that cost will go down rapidly.
• Be patient. Things usually can be sorted, it just takes time.
• Work the problems. Be methodical and think things through logically.
• Get someone else to do some of the work if it's out of your league.
• Drink lots of coffee.
• Don't mess with petrol!
• If it's all going wrong, take a time-out, think it through for a while, and start over.
• Get it roadworthy early on. Being able to ride it makes it all worthwhile, and the finishing touches can come later.

Yes, it was worth it. So why not have a go yourself?

Post script - Well she was still running fine, but I just didn't ride her enough, once I had the Ballistic Sofa to play with. SMD 55Y is still alive and well, but I sold her to a guy who lives half a mile away. He immediately took her to bits again, but, like me, I think that’s just because he likes to potter. It's his first bike for many years as well…….