Most of my mates had flash tackle - until their licences were destroyed! I used to go pillion as my cheap and cheerful tackle was in another world as far as speed went. My licence was thus spotless and I often ended up giving banned riders a lift. The GB250 lost a lot of its spirit with two extra large hoodlums aboard, though the shape of its tank was an ideal resting place for my beer-gut. Needed loads of work on the gearbox, which with 24000 miles done was far from slick. Slack more like it! It would still put 90mph on the clock, but its little heart was whirring away close to a premature death.
Handling was also a bit loose, the suspension not up to my own fifteen stones, let alone twice that! Its narrowness meant that nothing actually dug in, the whole show just bounced and wallowed around to a rhythm all of its own. The more impressionable pillions staggered off white of face and hands shaking madly - bikes feel much more precarious out back, especially as there wasn't anything (other than me) to hang on to. It didn't take long for word to get around, I was soon left to my own devices; they tended to blame me rather than the Honda.
Solo, a whole different machine emerged. Its mere thirty horses gave every impression of being larger than life. It wasn't the kind of thumper that wound itself up slowly yet relentlessly, the engine revving with the rapidity of a twin, but it could also hold on to whatever velocity was attained. Spirited up to 90mph, it took some determined wringing of its neck to put more than the ton on its clock. All good, clean fun.
Handling was a bit on the loose side, mostly down to the softly sprung shocks. It went really dire at one point, but this was just shot swinging arm bearings (with about 19000 miles on the clock). The whole back end of the bike feels a touch marginal, shown up most of all by a short-lived chain - lucky to get more than 5000 miles out of one. Okay, I bought some cheap and cheerful Chinese shit, but I did keep it in old engine oil (of which there was a plentiful supply as I changed the lube every 500 miles to keep the gearchange within the bounds of plausibility) but even so the thumper power pulses made their presence felt.
Try to ride slowly in a tall gear, the chain hammered away ferociously, needed at least 25mph in top. A brief ride on a similar CBX250 that had only done 4000 miles convinced me that it was probably down to age. Even the gearchange was still slick! It wasn't really a major problem, the kind of hassle that after a few weeks fades into the background, only when jumping on a friend's newish superbike for a short blast did the contrast in engineering finesse make its mark felt. Coming back to the GB, it felt horribly rough and as light as a moped. Vibration was never really a problem, more an intimation that the DOHC mill was whirring away than anything that limited either speed or comfort. Despite my unlikely size, the Honda fitted me better than an FZR600 but not on a par with the ergonomics of a CBR600.
My weight and the machine's age meant that after an hour the seat's foam did a disappearing act, left me squirming around like I had crabs or something. Two hours had fumes pouring out of my head and innocent cagers who slowed me down were subjected to a stream of abuse. Not a brilliant long distance tourer though it would purr along at 85-90mph without too much hassle... I mean, how much does a new saddle cost? That would've solved all the immediate problems but being a mean, if not wise, old bugger I left the original saddle there until it felt apart... which being a Honda meant it's still there!
The bike was only a giant killer in traffic where its lack of acceleration didn't matter as there was sod all room to accelerate. No, the way the bike could be slung through small holes in traffic, being as narrow as a step-thru, was what really counted. I could ear-hole it in the tighter twisties, but acceleration was never spectacular in the way of the race replicas, though on a few occasions I pushed things so hard that they ended up all over the shop due to the excess of power blowing away their chassis.
If the Honda had any one attribute that stood out it was the neutral balance of the chassis, which included the credible ability to let me stay perched on the machine with both feet up at a standstill. I'm sure if I went to the trouble of upgrading the suspension it would turn out to be a very fine handler indeed! Comfort wasn't really compromised by the shot suspension because the riding position held me in a way that allowed my body to best absorb the bumps - I'm slightly below average height.
The riding position emphasizes the fact that the machine is a very sensible motorcycle. The thumper motor needs little more than regular oil changes, fuel consumption ranges from 65 to 75mpg and apart from the chains I can get away with leaving the consumables for 15,000 miles, or more! True, the rubber isn't state of the art, but it's only ever a problem on very wet roads when the bike feels like it wants to skate around a bit - I'm sure my 15 stones help keep it planted on the tarmac!
I've had two failures. One was difficult starting that eventually drained the battery - beware, the whole electrical system is a bit marginal and you don't want to overload it - just a dead spark plug, probably the original at 17,350 miles. The other failure was the guts of the exhaust falling out due to rust, sending the carburation so lean that the bike wouldn't run! This at 21000 miles - mind you, I doubt if the carb itself had ever been touched by human hand! An old CD175 baffle I had hanging around the garage and a little artistry with a welding torch fixed it. It sometimes does a large backfire on the overrun but it's not predictable enough for me to scare the manure out of loitering cops.
I've come off the bike four times! Three of those were down to cagers veering into my path in heavy traffic. There was no way out but to hit something, usually the pavement which sent the bike flying - luckily I spun away from the carnage out of harm's way. The biggest damage was a buckled front wheel - you should've seen the Merc's door! It was a toss up whether I hit the guy or just laugh at him; maybe both, but the cops turned up and spoilt things. The other crash was spinning off on black ice - the bike's used all year round! The bike was a bit battered but nothing I couldn't kick straight.
Despite all these hassles, the finish has stood up pretty well. The odd spot of rush where the paint was scraped off and some white rash on the alloy but nothing a small amount of effort couldn't sort. The bike's marketed on the back of classic nostalgia in Japan, comes out of the crate with a better finish than most such devices. And I like the way it looks. Engine life is rumoured to be around 50,000 miles so plenty of time to savour what's on offer.
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The GB250 originally turned up in the UK as a grey import, but the 1988 bike had gone through five owners and had 27000 miles on its clock before it came into my hands. Judging by the state of the oil and the largeness of the valve clearances not one of them had bothered with even the most rudimentary of maintenance chores. With just a single carb and electronic ignition it was the kind of abuse you could get away with on a modern Japanese engine.
The chassis also reflected the level of owner involvement, with plenty of rust and alloy corrosion, though the whole front end looked suspiciously new. The guy I bought it off seemed to have only a limited number of brain cells left, made no sense whatsoever, but then I'd only paid five hundred notes. A sum for which even the most religious adherent of the UMG ethos could hardly expect perfection. Some time spent sorting the engine which showed no internal signs of its misspent youth was followed with a chassis clean up. Chain and sprocket set revived the transmission and the awful Taiwanese tyres were changed for cheapo Michelins, which lacked the former's plastic compound and outrageous reaction to the merest sign of dampness on our roads.
The GB250's basically similar to our own CBX250, with a set of classic clothes to fool the natives. On a number of occasions I had some British bike fanatic almost run me off the road in his eagerness to swap experiences. They turned quite nasty when they realised their mistake, not too amused when I pointed out the technological advances in the DOHC thumper motor, and showed them the distinctive lack of oil smearing as the most basic sign of relatively advanced engineering. I tried not to snicker when they invariably had trouble starting their piece of old world engineering.
Initially, I treated the Honda very gently, not sure how much life was left in the motor, but all this did was to leave me a sitting target for bored cagers. I soon ignored the relatively high mileage, made some serious play on the throttle. That got the little single moving. It wasn't without some torque, that unique thumper ability to run along on the merest hint of throttle, but in a typical Honda manner it also thrived on maximum revs.
A new engine puts out thirty horses, not bad given that the whole bike weighs less than 300lbs and its classic ambitions means the motor is lowly slung in a more than adequate chassis. That adds up to fast acceleration to 80mph, which turned out to be a feasible cruising speed. As much as a ton was possible under favourable conditions but I rarely pushed it beyond 90mph because the engine then gave out a disturbing level of vibration in contrast to its smoothness at lower revs.
The only element in the whole bike that caused any concern was the gearbox that only worked under a rising throttle and very precise clutch hand. It was intractable at slow town speeds with an elusive neutral and a feeling that the cogs were moments off dropping out of the crankcases. It was something that took about 1500 miles before I became used to it and was able to adapt my foot to its nastiness. Fresh oil didn't help much, it was either wear or bad design or, most likely, a combination of the two.
Despite the gearchange, the bike was an extremely useful little device, took whatever I threw at it in its stride. I particularly liked the way it shot through Central London, fast enough to give the odd DR pause for thought and was nimble enough to get me out of trouble the numerous times cagers tried to run me off the road for daring to make them look silly by doing a journey in a fifth of the time it took them. One of the stranger sights was of a cager turned scooterist, lurching along like an accident looking for somewhere to happen on one of those modern Wop scooters. They are quite fat things compared to the GB, not to mention slow and odd handling, and I'd sometimes find one on my tail, suddenly lurching to a stop when he couldn't make the gap. Still, it's better to have them on two wheels than four, even if they have paid way over the odds for some stylist's futuristic creation that turns out to be a nightmare in real life.
After about two months of such self-indulgence a curious change overcame my reaction to the self-effacing ways of the little Honda. I began to repeat the neglect and abuse that the previous owners had inflicted on the seemingly indestructible Japanese machine. Exactly why and how this happened I'm not sure - normally, anything I spend serious money on is deferred to and held slightly in awe, obviously deserving of some respect. Perhaps it was because tinkering with the valves and adding fresh oil every 1000 miles gave no discernible improvement in speed or general running. Or perhaps it was because it never really shone up despite loads of effort, happily fading away and corroding under the influence of our totally unpredictable autumn weather.
Perhaps I'd read too many UMG articles where the ethos was to see how long it took for destruction testing to have an effect; a unique art form even though it originated in the sheer laziness of the editor in being unable to bring himself to do any work on his own motorcycles and being surprised at how long the damn things lasted without exploding. Even the editor would admit to the odd oil change, but I decided that the GB deserved to experience total neglect...
British bike fanatics should be sitting down when they read this! I got a further 18000 miles out of a bike which by any sane account should already be in deep trouble! But no, the Honda rolled relentlessly forward with just the odd increase in engine rattles, and fuel consumption going from a reasonable 70mpg to 55mpg. How did the end come? A valve spring broke, letting the valve whack the piston which shattered and in turn sent enough debris through the engine to completely ruin everything that wasn't already on its last legs. Luckily, the demise happened a mere quarter of a mile from home, so even right at the end the Honda wasn't that vindictive.
Aided along by the newish front end, the chassis didn't really go into a desperate rate of wear, merely fading yet more and shedding one set of swinging arm bearings that proved impossible to buy new. Phosphor bronze replacements were made up on my ancient lathe - self lubricating, see! That effort, along with a few cans of paint on the chassis, proved worthwhile because after the engine had blown I found a replacement motor in the breakers for £300. The guy claimed it had only done 3000 miles, showing me a speedo off something else to prove it! But he was willing to let me roll my chassis down to his shop, install the motor and check it out, before handing over the dosh.
It was a good 'un, with unexpected urge at 90mph and less vibration than the earlier example. Did that convince me to give it plenty of tender loving care this time around? Er, no! Trouble is once you get into lazy habits it's dead hard to break out of them, and, besides these Jap bastards make such tough motors there's hardly any need to do anything to them. Is there?
Dereck Young
****************************************************
The GB250 originally turned up in the UK as a grey import, but the 1988 bike had gone through five owners and had 27000 miles on its clock before it came into my hands. Judging by the state of the oil and the largeness of the valve clearances not one of them had bothered with even the most rudimentary of maintenance chores. With just a single carb and electronic ignition it was the kind of abuse you could get away with on a modern Japanese engine.
The chassis also reflected the level of owner involvement, with plenty of rust and alloy corrosion, though the whole front end looked suspiciously new. The guy I bought it off seemed to have only a limited number of brain cells left, made no sense whatsoever, but then I'd only paid five hundred notes. A sum for which even the most religious adherent of the UMG ethos could hardly expect perfection. Some time spent sorting the engine which showed no internal signs of its misspent youth was followed with a chassis clean up. Chain and sprocket set revived the transmission and the awful Taiwanese tyres were changed for cheapo Michelins, which lacked the former's plastic compound and outrageous reaction to the merest sign of dampness on our roads.
The GB250's basically similar to our own CBX250, with a set of classic clothes to fool the natives. On a number of occasions I had some British bike fanatic almost run me off the road in his eagerness to swap experiences. They turned quite nasty when they realised their mistake, not too amused when I pointed out the technological advances in the DOHC thumper motor, and showed them the distinctive lack of oil smearing as the most basic sign of relatively advanced engineering. I tried not to snicker when they invariably had trouble starting their piece of old world engineering.
Initially, I treated the Honda very gently, not sure how much life was left in the motor, but all this did was to leave me a sitting target for bored cagers. I soon ignored the relatively high mileage, made some serious play on the throttle. That got the little single moving. It wasn't without some torque, that unique thumper ability to run along on the merest hint of throttle, but in a typical Honda manner it also thrived on maximum revs.
A new engine puts out thirty horses, not bad given that the whole bike weighs less than 300lbs and its classic ambitions means the motor is lowly slung in a more than adequate chassis. That adds up to fast acceleration to 80mph, which turned out to be a feasible cruising speed. As much as a ton was possible under favourable conditions but I rarely pushed it beyond 90mph because the engine then gave out a disturbing level of vibration in contrast to its smoothness at lower revs.
The only element in the whole bike that caused any concern was the gearbox that only worked under a rising throttle and very precise clutch hand. It was intractable at slow town speeds with an elusive neutral and a feeling that the cogs were moments off dropping out of the crankcases. It was something that took about 1500 miles before I became used to it and was able to adapt my foot to its nastiness. Fresh oil didn't help much, it was either wear or bad design or, most likely, a combination of the two.
Despite the gearchange, the bike was an extremely useful little device, took whatever I threw at it in its stride. I particularly liked the way it shot through Central London, fast enough to give the odd DR pause for thought and was nimble enough to get me out of trouble the numerous times cagers tried to run me off the road for daring to make them look silly by doing a journey in a fifth of the time it took them. One of the stranger sights was of a cager turned scooterist, lurching along like an accident looking for somewhere to happen on one of those modern Wop scooters. They are quite fat things compared to the GB, not to mention slow and odd handling, and I'd sometimes find one on my tail, suddenly lurching to a stop when he couldn't make the gap. Still, it's better to have them on two wheels than four, even if they have paid way over the odds for some stylist's futuristic creation that turns out to be a nightmare in real life.
After about two months of such self-indulgence a curious change overcame my reaction to the self-effacing ways of the little Honda. I began to repeat the neglect and abuse that the previous owners had inflicted on the seemingly indestructible Japanese machine. Exactly why and how this happened I'm not sure - normally, anything I spend serious money on is deferred to and held slightly in awe, obviously deserving of some respect. Perhaps it was because tinkering with the valves and adding fresh oil every 1000 miles gave no discernible improvement in speed or general running. Or perhaps it was because it never really shone up despite loads of effort, happily fading away and corroding under the influence of our totally unpredictable autumn weather.
Perhaps I'd read too many UMG articles where the ethos was to see how long it took for destruction testing to have an effect; a unique art form even though it originated in the sheer laziness of the editor in being unable to bring himself to do any work on his own motorcycles and being surprised at how long the damn things lasted without exploding. Even the editor would admit to the odd oil change, but I decided that the GB deserved to experience total neglect...
British bike fanatics should be sitting down when they read this! I got a further 18000 miles out of a bike which by any sane account should already be in deep trouble! But no, the Honda rolled relentlessly forward with just the odd increase in engine rattles, and fuel consumption going from a reasonable 70mpg to 55mpg. How did the end come? A valve spring broke, letting the valve whack the piston which shattered and in turn sent enough debris through the engine to completely ruin everything that wasn't already on its last legs. Luckily, the demise happened a mere quarter of a mile from home, so even right at the end the Honda wasn't that vindictive.
Aided along by the newish front end, the chassis didn't really go into a desperate rate of wear, merely fading yet more and shedding one set of swinging arm bearings that proved impossible to buy new. Phosphor bronze replacements were made up on my ancient lathe - self lubricating, see! That effort, along with a few cans of paint on the chassis, proved worthwhile because after the engine had blown I found a replacement motor in the breakers for £300. The guy claimed it had only done 3000 miles, showing me a speedo off something else to prove it! But he was willing to let me roll my chassis down to his shop, install the motor and check it out, before handing over the dosh.
It was a good 'un, with unexpected urge at 90mph and less vibration than the earlier example. Did that convince me to give it plenty of tender loving care this time around? Er, no! Trouble is once you get into lazy habits it's dead hard to break out of them, and, besides these Jap bastards make such tough motors there's hardly any need to do anything to them. Is there?
Dereck Young