Okay, so you’ve had enough of the nostalgic living legend and macho image bit surrounding the SR500E Yamaha, descendant of the 1937 BSA Gold Star. But the comparison just had to be made, even at the risk of visibly groping in the dark past for reassurance that the design was the accepted thing. That it paraded hand in hand with past glories.

But is it true that we are so preoccupied by two, four and six-cylinder multis, digital read-outs, air shocks and tubeless tyres that we’ve lost the valuable thread of what it’s all about? Do we need to be reminded?

Let’s look at the advent of the Yamaha 500 single from another angle.

The single-cylinder you-kick-it-into-life motorcycle was strongest when Hopalong Cassidy was thrilling Saturday matinee crowds. How much different do you think that style of machine is to Yamaha’s modern equivalent? How different — and more importantly how much better — has modernity made the single?

I suppose we’re lucky here at the magazine to be especially privileged by the number and variety of bikes we ride. Three staffers have ridden Gold Star BSAs f’rinstance. Lots of singles come under our belt. And when you’ve ridden them and a Yamaha 500 you’re disappointed, because the early singles aren’t vastly different from the SR.

They don’t run out quite as fast, for sure. Slower throttle reaction too, and some of them could benefit from the twin discs (in the dry). But those early singles don’t handle badly, and considering the Yamaha represents 40 years of technological evolution they’re remarkably similar — disappointingly so if you’re expecting significant improvement.

Maybe it’s just that we arrived at sound basics that many years ago, and that no time span or technological revolution will alter the essentials of an uncomplicated motorcycle.

The world at large has been slow to grasp the message, but Yamaha is showing us all that a good idea is a timeless commodity. 

The new SR500E is from the same stable as both the TT and XT500 off-road machines,  but it’s not just an XT engine dumped in a road-going frame.

One obvious difference (obvious to the avid XT-watcher that is) is the larger fins on the SR cylinder head to better radiate the heat of faster engine speed. The inlet and exhaust tracts are also greatly changed, mostly on the inlet side to accommodate the SR’s 34 mm Mikuni carburettor and the 47 mm intake valve. The XT is outfitted with a 32 mm carburettor and a 45 mm inlet valve. That translates to more power down low for the trail machine, while the roadster is biased to a stronger top end.

Bore and stroke dimensions (87 x 84 mm) and 9:1 compression ratio are common to the range, but to allow the use of low-lead petrol and to improve valve durability the SR is fitted with a new valve seat material.

The increased stresses of prolonged high speed operation imposed on the piston and crank have been met with a stronger piston pin boss and a six millimetre increase in the overall length of the piston. A newly-designed oil ring is used on the roadster. Yamaha’s engineers claim to have reduced engine noise slightly by using larger crankshaft webs and altering the shaft material.

One has never really experienced the joys of owning a big single until such time as the crankshaft rotates contrary to the direction dictated by the kickstarter while the rider is attached. We smarter ones will at such times wear footwear appropriate to the conditions — not old joggers or 49 cent specials from the supermarket thong bar. Yamaha predicted it all. The SR is fitted with an anti-kickback device which does actually work. It disengages the kickstarter mechanism at the bottom of the stroke. It should be foolproof.

Perhaps part of the joy of owning a big single is watching a raw novice starting it. After a couple of minutes of him trying to move the piston past compression you can casually draw attention to the existence of the decompressor, mounted conveniently below the left handgrip.

Many more attempts later and still with no sign of life (by this time sweat is pouring from under the would-be rider’s helmet) the brilliant idea of a clutch start on the wretched beast becomes quite attractive. But this results in a large amount of huffing and a short rear wheel screech, without even one rotation of the crankshaft.

By this time your sadistic sense of humour has turned to sympathy. You step in on the act and show him how to start the single with just one kick. It’s quite simple. The SR is a machine which demands discipline, and the rules are carefully spelled out in the owner’s handbook.

We could detect the strong smell of fuel, obviously from our novice working the accelerator pump carburettor. A flooded, cold, big single is usually more trouble than enough, but no sweat with the SR. Just screw the throttle on to full, remembering to turn off the ignition, give the kick starter three or four full swings with the decompressor pulled on and find the silver button in the camshaft peephole. Usually the middle of the silver bar gives one extra ratchet click on the starter lever. Then hit the choke to full, turn on ignition, release the decompressor, and, making sure not to touch the throttle under any circumstances, give a big swing on the starter.

There’s that magic ka-thunk-ka-thunk after only one kick!

We weren’t too distressed if the SR took two kicks to come to life. We used the excuse that the first kick was only to get the leg warmed up.

On a cold, unflooded start the procedure is similar, only with no cranking to clean out the cylinder.

We all expected the SR500E to be the petrol strike saviour. Visions of 28 km/l (80 mpg) were in our minds. Too bad. Our best fuel consumption was 22.3 km/l (63 mpg) — perhaps not bad against a two­stroke beast of that capacity but only marginally better than Honda’s 550 Four. Considering its performance, the SR should be more economical.

Vibration goes hand in hand with large single-cylinder motorcycles but it really is seriously over-rated and misunderstood by multi-cylinder pilots. Yamaha knew it would have to fuss a little over the vibration aspect, that’s why it altered the crankshaft and considered the engine mounting alternatives. Unlike the rubber-mounted XT engine, the SR engine is solidly fixed to the frame in four places, but it is a new, much stronger frame, and the SR’s tingles are acceptable. 

Standing start 400 metre runs are easy on the big single but you won’t set records. The bike doesn’t need to be revved hard initially and not much talent is needed to run it out to the 7000 rpm redline in each gear before changing up. The bike pulls exceptionally well from 3000 rpm upwards, so it’s no real handicap if 1000 rpm is lost dumping the clutch at the start.

We couldn’t better 15.3 seconds at a true 129 km/h for the standing-start 400 metres. That the average ran out to 15. 5 seconds spells easy consistency. Even our first run of 15.5 seconds was close considering it was a warm-up run.

The SR did run out of steam slightly at around 120 km/h and well before the end. Stretching the final top end out of the machine is a comparatively time-consuming process.

The bike’s power spread is good, the 18.5 kW maximum at 7000 rpm is built up gradually at about three kW per 1000 rpm from 3000 rpm. It pulls strongly from 3000 rpm but at least 3500-4000 rpm is necessary on the tacho before gear-changes become optional.

The engine’s torque curve is very flat and constant. It’s strong in the 3000-6000 rpm range and peaks at four. A little beyond 6000 torque tails off dramatically.

Most of the running gear on the SR is directly from the XT trail model — that even applies to internal gear ratios and sprocket sizes. You’d have to say it’s high expectation from Yamaha for a 500 single with trail bike gearing to readily adapt to a road bike frame and the different usage.

Surprisingly, the machine does cope, and well. The secret is in the big single cylinder powerplant — it’s so flexible that gears seem irrelevant. Any situation which requires more pulling power only needs slightly more throttle to get the job done.

There are, nevertheless, changes within the gearbox, most concerned with either strengthening components (like the hoop around the clutch housing), or providing easier shifts and less drag (like the new needle bearing supporting the left side of the shift drum).

On the road the SR performed well. It does run out of breath at about 120 km/h but it will actually chug all the way up to a true road speed of 156 km/h. Touring is comfortable at 110 km/h in top gear, leaving that little extra engine power for overtaking.

The maximum speeds in gears are refreshingly realistic with first at 51 km/h; second, 78; third, 102; fourth, 132 and fifth, 156 km/h. First is adequately geared down to provide good acceleration in traffic and all gears are fairly evenly spaced. Much of the casual city riding does find first and second gear a little short-lived — after all, buzzing up to seven on a 500 single is not everyone’s idea of excitement. On the road, first and second gears last to about 20 and 40 km/h respectively although essentially the engine spans a tremendously wide torque band and range of gears.

The clutch felt light but progressive and controllable. The engine strength is such that the clutch can be let out at idle and the SR500 will just chug on regardless.

To accommodate the 500 single in street duty a new frame was designed. The fork tubes are stronger and many of the major gusset points are also strengthened. The fork travel (150 mm) is adequate for on-road situations and the springing and damping rates are well-matched to the SR’s 163 kg weight. 

There’s only 110 mm of wheel-travel in the Kayaba oil-damped units on the rear but they are still adjustable for spring preload over the standard five settings. The total suspension system is very similar to that fitted to the Yamaha XS650 Special, although there’s a little more rear wheel movement.

Handling is quite different to the XT, primarily because the SR runs a steeper fork angle. With less trail the bike steers a little quicker through the corners. The SR is also a very narrow machine with good ground clearance; usually the rider finds he has over-estimated the amount of road needed to negotiate a fast corner because the bike tracks straight, and feels rock-steady. It can be a little disappointing over undulations though. It feels as though the rear units are too firm for the machine’s low weight.

The tyres are interesting. They’re both styled after the old Dunlop Gold Seal rubber but this year they’re the Bridgestone Mag Mopus G503. Under road-going situations, we found them entirely adequate for the job.

Overall, the SR500E is a good-handling machine on the road.

Yamaha has turned away from using the twin piston caliper brakes fitted to the RD250 and RD400 models. Instead the SR, like all new-model Yamahas, is using a stainless steel disc outfitted with a single piston hydraulic caliper, which is less expensive to manufacture. On the SR a single disc is fitted to each wheel. The optimum performance of the double disc brake setup is impressive but some efficiency could have been traded off for better wet weather stopping by using a rear drum.

Nevertheless, the brakes work exceptionally well in the dry. The governing factor is tyre grip on the road. In some cases that can be very slim due to the bike’s light weight. In extended tests we couldn’t fade the brakes at all — it’s unknown on the SR.

The stopping distance is better than average for that size of machine (and so it should be considering the SR’s weight) yet the XT500 stops almost as well — drums and all! Both the RD250 and RD400 out­brake the SR.

Under extreme conditions the SR is easy to control even with one or two wheels locked up. The rear locks up first on harsh application but it requires deliberately savage treatment and it’s exactly the same situation at the front.

A sensible assistance to comfort and control of the machine are the cable adjusters fitted to both front and rear levers. 

To be traditional and all that, Yamaha painted the SR500E straight black and then made everything else either silver, gold or chrome. The effect is good, and all painted parts are coated in clear lacquer which protects the decals and gives some depth to the finish.

The engine itself is particularly eye­catching, standing high and alone, uncluttered and old-fashioned in appearance. One carburettor in one side and a single pipe out the other. It’s a style we’ve all seen somewhere before — was it the BSA factory circa 1955 or the Ariel of earlier years?

Comfort has been an important component in the SR500E’s design and all the major proportions match well. The footpeg to seat distance accommodates the tall rider without knees-around-the-handlebars riding. The bars themselves are low-rise and comfortable. They’re quite narrow but the controls are well placed and easily worked with gloved hands. The inherent slimness of the engine is carried to the theme of the bike overall and the tank width is far more comfortable than the leg-splaying likes of Honda’s 750s and the CBX.

The seat, comfortable initially, still provides a pain in the backside after about 250 km. It’s just too thin and soft. It doesn’t lift up. The gear usually stored underneath can be placed behind the locking plastic sidecover with the toolkit and 12 volt battery.

The instruments are good. Similar to the dials fitted on the XS range, they’re functional and easy to read with the white on black lettering and orange needles. At night the soft orange lighting provides good illumination.

We were surprised to find a quartz iodine headlight on the test machine. It gives a straight cut-off across the top in low beam and a good spread on high.

Other low-maintenance aspects of the SR which make life more pleasant include the self-cancelling indicators and capacitor discharge ignition.

If the SR500E had been available in 1937 it would have taken the world by storm. But don’t be fooled. It’s not a revived BSA Gold Star. Far from it. It’s a modern machine devoid of all the problems associated with the older singles, but retaining much of the basic idea.

It won’t suit everybody. The ultra smooth 400 Four man won’t like the vibes and the CBX-er won’t know what to do with all the empty space between his legs.

The bike left us with mixed feelings. It is a capable machine, but only fun to ride if you’re a fan of the breed. It is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a modern technological revolution bringing new life to singles. It is an uncomplicated motorcycle which re-packages sound basics without greatly altering their nature.

By Steve Brown, Two Wheels, April 1979

Will the Real Single Please Stand Up?

The backbone of the late, great British motorcycle industry was always the simple, large-capacity 500 single. It sold by the truck-load for more than 40 years, glorifying in many different brand names but remaining essentially basic in design and function.

When the Japanese invasion arrived in 1958, the rash of ultra-lightweight, but high performance, machines administered the coup-de-grace to an industry which was already on its knees. The story was simple enough: the demand was then upon lightweight, utility transport, a gap the humble motor scooter tried at and failed.

There were, of course, a few British lightweights, including a horde of Villiers­-engined lookalikes and a few scooters made under licence (or frightfully expensive, like the swift Triumph Tigress, a high-performance 250 ohv twin), but the British accent was still largely upon the manufacture of enthusiast motorcycles.

History has recorded that the Japanese flourished while the British largely disappeared from the scene.

The proud old 500 Single very certainly did!

There are no new British singles now of course, but there is a fair sprinkling of newly rebuilt examples running about, and it was one of these, the 1952 Matchless belonging to Metzeler tyre importer and distributor John Galvin, which we managed to track down and borrow.

The Matchless is probably not quite revered as a classic on Gold Star BSA, MSS Velocette or Norton International level, but is certainly the archtypical British 500 single, and as such the perfect machine for our purposes. It is 26 years old but in perfect condition, and typical of the type of machine still referred to by older enthusiasts in glowing terms.

The current sales pitch for today’s Yamaha 500 single refers to the “New Thumper” and heralds the “Return of the Classic Single”, while telling the new breed of rider — and the greybeard who will listen — to experience “A legend in your own time!”.

In honesty the SR500 is as modern as tomorrow with its overhead cam engine in unit with five-speed gearbox, geared primary drive and common engine/gearbox lubrication. A caged roller big end is adopted and the crank is supported on two substantial ball bearings, with an outboard sprocket on the left end of the crank driving the overhead camshaft chain.

A simple, semi-automatic adjuster takes up the slack on the rear run of the camchain. Quite ordinary rockers apply leverage to the valves. Over-square bore and stroke dimensions of 87 x 84 mm provide a clue to the comparatively high­revving nature of the engine, which runs a compression ratio of 9:1 and a 34 mm Mikuni carburettor.

Contrast those specifications with the Matchless, which has pushrod operated overhead valves and hairpin valve spring control.

A substantial caged roller big-end bearing is fitted to the older engine, with a large ball bearing on the drive side and a very solid bronze bush on the less highly­stressed timing side. Primary drive is by chain to the separate Burman gearbox, with the drive mechanism and clutch enclosed in a stamped, metal case.

The Yamaha’s common oil supply to engine, gearbox and primary drive means its clutch is wet, but the Matchless clutch is essentially dry. Oil is contained within the chaincase, but it is intended to provide lubrication to the chain drive only. Owners found the clutch slipping badly if the oil level in the case was above the recommended level.

Basic differences between the Old and the New are never more obvious than in the two electrical systems.

The Yamaha runs the capacitor discharge ignition system, with a coil under the tank and the flywheel magneto attached to the left side of the crankshaft, where the power drive assembly is on the Matchless. The whole system of electricity generation is embodied in the stator plate and large flywheel rotor which spins with the crankshaft.

The Matchless ignition is by magneto, with the device located ahead of the cylinder barrel and driven by chain from the inlet camshaft. The six-volt generator is inside the primary chaincase and driven by a small chain from the inner run of teeth on the duplex engine sprocket.

The Matchless is essentially a slow-revving engine, producing its peak power of 15.6 kW (21 hp) at a low 5500 rpm, from a long­stroke engine of 82.5 bore by 93 mm stroke, on a low compression ratio of 6.23:1. It is very much a low-stressed “cooking” engine. The Yamaha is almost a racer by comparison.

Outputs bear looking at for a moment. Yamaha claims around 33 hp (or 25 kW) for the SR, but at the rear wheel the best we could extract on the test machine was 24.8 hp (18.5 kW). Ouch! Near enough to a 25 percent drop and too high to be typical. The SR is probably a bit better performer than that, even if our test machine wasn’t.

Now take the 21 hp (15.6 kW) claim of the Matchless. Without disappearing into complicated explanations on the matter, take our word for it that the British measure is “stronger”. But if we apply an output drop of, say, 18 percent to the rear wheel it calculates to 17 hp (12.8 kW).

So what have we proved? Only that however you look at it the Yamaha is a damn sight stronger in its maximums. It’s not all that straightforward on the road, although the essential difference between the two similar engines is very marked. 

The older motorcycle comes into its own in the Low Speed Punchiness Stakes. The Yammie, with its comparatively high­revving, high-compression sports performance, cannot live with the thumping grunt of the push-rod overhead valve single from the past.

There is one very essential item, standard on the staid old thumpers, which was the heart and soul of their incredible low-speed top gear performance and which is not to be seen in the Yamaha design.

Yes, it is the very large flywheel!

The sheer mass of the rotating weight of the Matchless flywheel assembly imbues the British single with prodigious pulling power totally unmatched by the later Japanese design.

As befits the higher-revving engine, Yamaha has adopted a comparatively small, light flywheel, which is not much heavier than those fitted to most two-stroke machines.

The British single’s flywheel assembly is 200 mm in diameter and 30 mm thick, while the Yamaha’s is 140 mm in diameter (and also 30 mm thick) with the substantial weight difference in static terms relating to many tonnes in the rotating weight of the components.

This feature alone makes the Matchless a Thumper par excellence, and the Yamaha — despite its publicity blurb — not really a Thumper at all! Or perhaps it is, compared to the current rash of late-model, high­revving multi-cylinder engines. All things are relative. But compared to a genuine thumper …

An advantage of the heavier flywheel is its ability to absorb much of the inherent vibration, and that’s again obvious on the road, where the Matchless is much smoother than the Yamaha at reasonable speeds, with none of the high-frequency vibration which so typifies later motorcycles.

The 1952 Matchless models were available with chrome-and-red fuel tanks and a dual seat from the then-new twin-cylinder Spring-twin, but Galvin’s machine is in the cheaper “austerity” guise with a black tank, painted wheel rims and single spring saddle.

Both machines are black/black and at a quick glance fairly similar superficially, but the later machine is naturally very much more sophisticated. The Yamaha switchgear and general layout is sensible, the Matchless is spartan in the extreme. Yamaha enjoys the safer blinkers and dual rear view mirrors, the Matchless scorns these items and also makes do with no stoplight!

It means that the time-honoured (and thankfully long gone) system of hand signalling has to be pressed into service again. And let it be said that the mirror’s contribution to safe navigation becomes very obvious when it is not fitted.

Yamaha’s cast alloy wheels and disc brakes front and rear are essential gear in the late ’70s, though spoked wheels and drum brakes are still in abundance. They are, of course, standard fittings on the old Matchless.

But don’t sell it short, for the older drums are well up to the mark when stopping the old stove, and are at least as efficient as the discs. The drums need less concentration to apply and are unbelievably powerful in relation to their small size.

Both frames are very similar in basic design, with telescopic front forks and swinging arm rear suspension controlled by spring/damper shock units. Yamaha uses proprietary units but the Matchless is fitted with its own make of rear shock which is a cut-down version of the front fork.

The centre of the Matchless shock is a cut­down fork tube topped with a large-diameter spring and fitted with miniature forkbushes and seals. The standard damper unit is used in the base of the shock and the entire unit is totally accessible for repairs.

Matchless, and the almost-identical AJS machines, were the only British motorcycles to be fitted with these shocks. The Girling and Armstrong units were available in limited numbers and were used by the other manufacturers who swung to the pivoted­fork rear suspension design a year or two later.

The most impressive-looking rear shocks were not quite as good as they pretended to be. The damping was poor and resultant rear wheel patter soon wrecked the damping entirely.

The Galvin Matchless shows no such tendency for the rear shocks are obviously in perfect condition. So too are the swing arm pivot bushes, and the fine handling of the 26-years-old motorcycle provides a target at which many modern motorcycles might aim. Though scoffed at by almost everybody who saw it, the spring saddle on the old British bike allowed more than 50 mm of movement and aided the suspension system in providing a standard of comfort forgotten in the mists of time.

Gearboxes were fitted with no more than four gears in days of yore, and they needed no more with the spread of power which was so much a feature of the old warriors. The closer ratios of the Yamaha gearbox are also well sorted to the needs of the modern machine and its rider, the Yamaha pulling a lower top gear to allow the engine to spin faster at cruising speeds. Top gear on the Yamaha is 5.48:1, against just on 5:1 for the Matchless, while the rolling diameter of the rear wheels remains the same on both machines. 

The relative behaviour of the two singles on the road is remarkable, for they are both very much products of their own era and reflect it vividly in the manner in which they attack essentially the same job.

Perhaps it was a more casual age nearly 30 years ago (though I would hardly have thought so then!), but the Matchless is a distinctly calm motorcycle at all road speeds, able to be slipped into top gear at 35 km/h and pulling away from that speed as though from rest in first gear. It can be ridden almost to a stop in the same gear, and it will accelerate strongly from 30 km/h to its top cruising speed of about 120 km/h without changing back, and with no distress.

Now that’s a THUMPER!!

Contrast this performance with the more urgent Yamaha, which takes off quicker, but which cannot pull well in top gear at anything under about 75 km/h, and which has to see at least that speed on the clock before there is any point in selecting top gear. Vibration is more apparent in the Japanese motorcycle, though it remains comfortable enough and certainly not obtrusive.

A surprise of the test was the ease of operation of the Matchless brakes, but the greatest surprise was in store when both machines were lined up together and brakes were directly compared under actual “emergency” conditions.

The Matchless, with its jam-tin-sized drum brakes, won hands down!

The rear disc on the Yamaha yelped and locked the rear wheel, with the front-end scrabbling at the road as well, but the old thumper came to a quiet, drama-free halt almost three metres behind from 50 km/h in a simple mini-test. That left everybody present speechless!

So much for dual discs.

Another area in which the Matchless shone was in fuel consumption, although perhaps they’re not directly comparable in view of the greater performance capabilities of the Yamaha. The very best figure we could extract from the Japanese thumper was 23 km/l (69 mpg) at an average of 80 km/h, sustained for as long as traffic conditions on the open road would permit. The Matchless was true to its name in returning an astonishing 33 km/l at the same road speeds — that’s 93 miles per gallon!

Overall fuel consumption figures are at least as impressive in comparison. The Yamaha managed 22 km/l, while the Matchless ran to 28 km/l.

In terms of sheer acceleration, the Yamaha left the old war-horse coughing in its dust (as it should do in view of the almost 50 per­cent additional power of the ohc Japanese machine) and it was some sound as both punchy singles took off together.

Both machines feature valve lifters, for the very good reason that it is next to impossible to boot a big single over the compression stroke without the aid of this device. The Matchless, with its big flywheels and very low compression, was much easier to fire up and never failed to burst into life in one or two kicks. The Yamaha also fired in one or two, but the starting procedure had to be very strictly adhered to.

Exhaust noise is minimal on the Japanese machine thanks to the “anti-breathing” laws under which it labours, but the British machine is also acceptably quiet, though the exhaust note has much more oomph to it.

Midrange acceleration is again the Matchless’s forte when the two machines pull away in top gear from 80 km/h. Nicely on the torque at these engine speeds, the Matchless just digs in and goes while the Yamaha takes quite some time to get its act together and is left well behind before it does.

But that’s what the gearbox is for. A swift change back to fourth — or even third — will see the Yamaha much more competitive. And if the Yamaha is more exciting to ride because of its handy, brisk performance, then the Matchless is much more the product of its era in allowing for a much more relaxed performance.

In general, the Matchless handles bumpy road surfaces better, though there is some flexing in the thin-diameter fork tubes which shows as a front wheel shudder under heavy braking on broken surfaces. Naturally the Matchless is shod with Metzeler tyres, but the lumpy-looking Japanese rubber on the Yamaha hung on well enough for both our test and comparison.

We’re left with a conclusion that the 26 years between machines should have allowed great advances in frame design, tyre technology, brakes and electrical systems as well as engine design, but they’re all more apparent than real. The 1952 Matchless showed up quite well in many of the direct comparisons we made between handling, comfort, open-road performance and braking.

Sure, the Yamaha enjoyed more than an edge in the added sophistication of its late-’70s electrical system, solid-looking cast alloy wheels and excellent and complete instrumentation. But it was distinctly below par in hard braking, fuel consumption and top gear pulling power. Handling was not up to the old Matchless either, but is at the very least acceptable by modern standards.

So how far have we progressed?

That would have to depend entirely on what the modern rider is looking for, and how far he can look back — if he needs or wants to look back at all!

One would have to say that the SR500E Yamaha is very much a modern motorcycle, echoing the past by virtue of its design and capacity but really resting on sophistication unknown nearly three decades ago. It has much appeal for those who have never ridden a Classic Thumper, and some novelty value for those who have.

But time is the arbiter and wrings many changes in its wake. At the end of this century, history will recall the SR500E Yamaha as a prime example of an old thumper from way back in the late ‘70s.

Bet on it!

By Lester Morris, Two Wheels, April 1979