The tales people tell in the UMG about bikes they have bought can be vastly entertaining. I will never forget the fellow and his Gold Star. But what about all the others, the ones you didn't buy? I have had hours of fun and merriment at other's expense, for rarely more than a ride across town. Usually in response to small ads or word of mouth about great bikes for small sums, and usually with the words: needs slight attention, figuring in the story somewhere.
This immortal phrase covers everything from some genuinely excellent bargains to a Guzzi I once went to see that had clearly been driven at considerable speed into something very solid. One common factor, though, is a rich source of mirth and ancedotes.
A fond memory, for instance, is of a metalflake purple CJ250 with chrome sidepanels and swinging arm, and a Fiat brake caliper. It didn't run of course, but the girl it belonged to insisted it had to be at least £250 to get her money back. Not off me. The CJ and its various K4 and G5 relations figure almost as vividly as the 175 Honda. The reason has to be that the search for hacks exists in the sub £100 sector where all the rubbish is, and the CDs, G5s and their ilk when ten years old gravitate to a leaky shed and the back of garages where they linger for a few years, next to appear in the small ads of the local Freesheet.
I met a painter once (as in Dulux not Renoir) who said he had an immaculate CJ in his back yard I could have for £100. It was under a heavy canvas tarpaulin which he had not removed for two years. Needless to say, the bike was so corroded it could not even be moved, much less started. It even looked a wreck in the dark. The painter was horrified and babbled on that it had been perfect when it was put there.
Interestingly, a mate went to see (yet another) CJ that had stood in the open for two years, which was fine apart from the chrome, and even started up on its own battery.
Then there was the G5 that had been painted all over with underseal, and also wouldn't start. The lad produced a tommy bar easily three foot long to try, and ultimately fail, to get the plugs out. Said it was dead reliable, though. Just dead, really.
But it was the winter I decided to buy a 175 Honda that yielded the most concerted attack of dogs. I can remember standing in a shed looking at the dismantled and rotting remains of a CB175 with my mate, laughing until it hurt. One CD needing “slight attention” actually had bent valves and the camchain in the sump. Another “not used during winter” had spent the winter standing in the garden with no plugs in it. It was seized tighter than a duck's arse, natch. And the old boy who had a bad time on the horses and was selling his CD - he stood in the back yard revving the balls of a distinctly rowdy engine and said, ‘Mind you, there's no oil in it, do these things seize like cars?'
Just to give Honda a break, I went in a van with a mate to see a Bonnie for £350, this when such a sum could buy a quite respectable Triumph. The confection of rust, bodgery and red Hermatite that presented itself was enough to keep us chuckling all the weekend. Peeing oil and not running, it had obviously been recently rebuilt very badly, in the back yard judging by the swamp of oil there. Fortunately, for the vendor's pride, he was out at the time, and we spoke to his mum, who kept telling us it was a twin. True, of course, but we already knew that.
Dealers have also had their moments. I remember a notable dealer in Yorkshire refusing point blank to admit that the front brake master cylinder on a Yam XS650, which had been araldited together after a break near the pivot was in any way dangerous, and would not contemplate its replacement as part of a deal. Later experience of Yamaha spares prices and availability showed me why, I guess.
And not to forget the dealer down south who recently advertised a CB500T for £1750 as a classic bike. I didn't see that one, but I didn't need to, it was another bike I didn't buy. Same as the heaps of rotting and incontinent 500Ts in these parts which change hands for perhaps 10% of that figure.
I once travelled quite a distance to see a CD185 that I had been reliably assured was absolutely pristine. It belonged to a chap with a huge house and a Rolls Royce, who started off the moment he opened the door by insisting the price was £200, no offers. When I offered him £20 for the CD with no tax or MOT, no battery, no sidepanels, no seat and bald tyres, he got all hurt and angry. He wasn't at all mollified when I pointed out that this was all I had paid for the complete and running Supa 5 I had ridden there. Probably cheesed that I had lowered the tone by turning up on such a thing in the first place.
Oddly enough, MZs don't figure in this tale at all. I have only ever been to see two, and bought them both. They seem much more able to take the abuse and neglect endemic to this class of bike without coming to grief; though a neighbour did buy a pea green TS125 that is a story in itself.
I once turned down a comatose CD for a tenner that was offered me by a friend. He became so exasperated by its continued presence in his garden that he threatened to dismantle it and leave it, one part a day, on the bus. I willed him to do it. Not only did the reversed Johnny-Cash philosophy appeal, but also the vision of the boyos in the bus company's lost property office slowly reassembling it, and eagerly awaiting the final part. Unfortunately, he gave it to me instead.
Finally, I can't leave without mention of the admittedly very tidy T reg Gold Wing. The owner of this claimed it was a special secret Honda prototype, and had amongst other things, four valves per cylinder, would do 150mph and burn off CBRs. What really puzzled me was not only why such a wonder bike had never gone into production, but why Honda UK registered its secret prototype in Stoke-on-Trent. Happy hunting!
Jon Everall