When I take a bike apart, I usually rely on my memory to remember how it all goes back together. That works well enough if you strip it in the morning and rebuild it the same day, or even the same week. I once had to rebuild the engine of my Honda CB92 Benly three times in one day, because I keep leaving out important parts like a circlip and a piston ring, but I was only 17 and you have to learn somehow. Leaving the rebuild stage for 20 months, however, has its drawbacks, as I found when reassembling my Suzuki TL fairing.

The spray-painter in Knysna, Slig at Star Panelbeaters, hadn’t managed to squeeze my small job in before the Christmas break, which was fair enough. I was pleasantly surprised to get a call three days after Christmas to say the parts were ready for collection. It turned out that Slig had worked through the holiday to stay on top of his workload – which was hugely appreciated.

The work was superb. Without so much as a VIN number from me, Slig had matched the 1997 green exactly and covered the gold TL1000S decal in a clear coat of polyurethane so that it looked like new. It has taken me many months to find that original decal, with a friend in Japan trying to locate one there to no effect. I eventually found online what may well have been the last one in the world.

I wasn’t so lucky with the decal for Electronic Fuel Injection on the tailpiece, though. The only one I could find was not quite the same size as the original. Slig covered the decal with masking tape, sprayed the panel, then added a clear top coat and the result looked like new.

Figuring out what went where wasn’t going to be easy. Attaching the new faux-carbon fibre air scoop was simple enough, but figuring out the relationship between the tube connecting it to the carbs and the strange piece of shiny black plastic lying nearby was tricky. My genius solution was to remove the right-hand fairing and see how that was put together. As a tactic, it worked pretty well, until I realised that there are five different types of Allen-head bolts holding the fairing in place – all looking more or less the same. It was only when I had one hole still to fill and the only remaining bolt didn’t fit it that I decided a more detailed inspection of each bolt was needed. It turned out that some bolts had slightly deeper shoulders than others – who’d have thought? Once I worked that out, the rest was plain sailing.

The TL was now back in one piece for the first time in almost two years. Time to fit the new battery. The beautiful V-twin fired up instantly, filling the rural valley with its deep rumble. The bike needed a wash, I knew, but that could wait. Time to ride!

The oft-lamented washboard surface of the dirt road (which had broken indicator stalks and the tail light on the Ducati, wrecked the mirrors on the V-Strom and left a few stone chips on the Rune) out to the nearest tarred surface had me crawling in first gear in some places, but eventually I was on Tarmac and could let the TL do its thing. The southern hemisphere summer was warm, the sky blue and the road empty, and the Suzuki quickly reminded me why I’d first fallen in love with it. The engine was smooth, its 125 bhp ample for my needs, its exhaust note exhilarating, and the handling was as sweet and steady as ever. Built in 1997, this bike pre-dated almost every modern electronic convenience and, to me, represents motorcycling at its elemental best. Eventually we made it home for a well-deserved wash and polish. It may be 25 years old this year, but it has covered only 8,300 miles from new and now with its newly painted plastic parts looked like new. For some reason, the TL hasn’t quite reached collector status yet, unlike the Ducati Sport Classic, so it will get ridden as often as the opportunity arises. Quite simply, I love it.