The CBR900 had me in its sights for a long time but it was only in 1997 that the price was right. A three year old for £2750. Ain't life f..king wonderful! I tested the bike in the usual way - full throttle, massive wheelie take-off - if that and coming down to earth with an alarming bang didn't kill it then it must be okay. It survived. My enthusiasm even survived the blank look on the fourth owner's face when I mentioned oil changes and servicing.
My previous mount sold the week before for £2500 - a prime meat example of the Z1000, which just goes to show how strange the used motorcycle market has gone. I was used to meaty power, excess weight and handling out of the ark. The CBR900 had much more power any way you want to look at it and was carting along at least 150lbs less metal. It doesn't take an Einstein to work out the consequences; the major one being yours truly getting stuck in like a dog with two pricks.
It took approximately 90 minutes for the plod to get in on the act. Some porcine (literally, triple chins at 25!) bastard had his notebook out after his mate in the driving seat had almost rammed me into the armco. 'Did we know, sir (heavy sarcastic emphasis), that doing 125mph between two cars was likely to end up with a prison term?' I pointed out that one of the cars was undertaking me! Some blighter in a big Merc who was already well gone. This was ignored, I was told that I was going to be done for dangerous driving as well as being 55mph over the speed limit. The porcine one gave me a wink, waited for a few seconds before starting to write out the ticket - was he hoping for a bribe? I gave the old owner's name and address, which came up on their computer and laughed all the way home. Got one over on the buggers!
The CBR spent the next half hour swinging through my favourite country lanes. Couldn't believe how far over it would go without coming unstuck. A couple of times I went into bends too fast, twitched the bike upright and slammed the anchors on - the Honda didn't like that kind of treatment, the front wheel slamming around and needing an excess of muscle to avoid riding off the road or into an oncoming car. Twitchy little bugger, thought I, but then I would never have tried such speeds on the Z which would have thrown me off, dug up the road, written a few cars off and destroyed any loose farm animals - and in all probability still be ready for more!
I wasn't actually going into bends too fast for the CBR, I soon found out that there was plenty of grip in hand and that there was no need to back off! This was all well weird, used as I was to hanging off the side of the Z whilst it tried to imitate a buffalo with a hot poker up its backside. The monstrous power available at the flick of a wrist had to be held in utmost reverence; try it on too hard then the back would go sideways, probably even backwards. Even coming out of bends with a mild bit of throttle action in, say, third, had the front end going all light and twitchy, though it never tried a Z-like stop to stop speed wobble - the Z did it with both wheels firmly on the tarmac, down to crap suspension, weight distribution and steering geometry, not to mention a frame that could suddenly turn plastic.
It took me a while to get used to this. Kids who'd grown up on such devices showed me up no end in the early days. Even CBR600 mounted youths could leave me for dead in a series of curves. Watching them getting their knees (elbows in one case!) down was highly inspiring. I followed their lines and angles of lean, scaring myself silly when the power pulsed in and the back tyre started to patter with the sheer excess of the forces involved. I never did find the ultimate limit; that is, when you fall off! But I had some fun doing power slides out of curves on slightly damp roads; I could feel the point at which the Michelins were about to let loose! Try that on some old hulk like the Z and you'd end up a hospital case.
The one area where the CBR was lacking was that of comfort. Obviously, it's a replica which therefore needs speed to make any sense, but the seat's resemblance to a plank was either built in or down to 33000 miles worth of wear and oversized previous owners. Fuel consumption was around 30mpg, tyres about 3000 miles and brake pads circa 4500 miles. That added up to heavy costs but what the hell...
Hell was where I would've liked to fling the bike when all systems failed about sixty miles from home. It took me but a few moments to deduce that it was the electrics which had gone down. Namely, one expensively melted battery, the result of an equally dead rectifier. The wiring had been poked about by someone with a death-wish, a couple of bared wires jigging about in all probability causing the machine's downfall. It took three hundred quid and a couple of hours of an auto-electrician's time to sort the mess out! I'm old enough to recall a time when you could buy a jolly good motorcycle for that kind of dosh!
Gave the Honda a heavy thrashing after that incident, just to convince myself that it was worth the hassle. Yes, yes, yes. I was inspired to spend my hol's roaring around the South of France at warp speed and ignoring the Frog Pigs who couldn't keep up! Ran into a couple of characters from one of the glossies, was shocked to find the rumours were true - was offered enough drugs to write off a sane person's liver and propositioned by one desperate guy! Poor chap thought he was Hunter S Thompson in drag! I managed to get out of it without resorting to violence.
The CBR buzzed along at improbable revs and speeds, the only hassle keeping my body temperature down in the fierce summer heat. After one crazy trip I could hear the coolant bubbling in the radiator! 185mph on the clock was the most I saw (I know, it was probably optimistic), which I thought was amazing for an engine that then sported more than 40,000 miles on the clock! One worrying sign, the motor began to eat up the lubricant at a rate that emptied the sump in 500 miles. I took this as a sign not to do any more oil changes, no point if it was all going to be burnt off, was there?
Back home, the bike was a bit more vibratory, with some surge at low revs. I put this down to the fact that I'd never touched the carbs (the previous owner told me it wasn't necessary!). On the overrun, there were puffs of white smoke out of the exhaust but it still screamed along at incredible rates of acceleration and velocity.
With 46,456 miles on the clock the CBR ground to a halt with a large bang! I just managed to hit the clutch before the bike was thrown off the road. After great expense, the bike was back home and I had the engine in a million pieces. A broken con-rod was the culprit, which had messed up the whole mill. After the usual round of insults a used motor was installed but this turned out to be a bit of a dog with no inclination to go over 150mph. Must've done a high mileage.
The local dealers didn't want to know as far as a trade-in deal or sale went but I got shot of the bike for 2500 notes on the private market. A bit of a loss but I'd had more than my money's worth as far as on the road kicks go. A total licence kill (don't register the bike in your name), an outrageously fast piece of kit that's still well on the pace and handles better than most other bikes. Takes a bit of time and skill to master but responds well to a firm hand. Of course, there was only one thing to do after the CBR - use the dosh as a deposit on an R1.
Dave F.