All right, all right, that's enough. It takes a lot to rile a Superdream pilot but now I'm just plain pissed off. We always get the piss taken out of us, right? Slow, unreliable bikes for slow, reliable people, right? Well, it's time to set the record straight!
It's the latest write-up of Superdreams in this fair journal which has prompted this normally docile, meditative biker to leapt to the defence of his most reliable Honda CB400NC. The tosser who wrote in last, purchased his 'Dream whilst drunk for the princely sum of £100. When he awoke from his drunken stupor the next morning to realise what a nail he'd bought, he then slung it to the back of his shed.
Much to the credit of the well knackered piece of Jap iron he reluctantly owned, it fired up and ran when he needed it six months later. Rather than praise it for semi-reliable performance from then on he slagged it off to all and sundry. The truth of the matter, of course, being that he was shafted whilst pissed, abused the heap but was rewarded with a working bike, the only element of that sorry tale attributable to the inherent qualities of the Superdream.
It's time to write on behalf of the many Superdream owners, of the many merits of this machine and the good times had on it. I bought my CB400 for 900 notes a year and a half ago. It was B reg with 18000 miles on the clock and a full service history, including all the MOTs which proved the mileage genuine. The bike was in very good condition if a very boring blue colour. I had just passed my test and rode away from the dealers feeling like a million dollars. A big bike at last.
First impressions were of a machine that was rather top heavy, with a tendency to drop into corners if enough speed wasn't dialled in. The back end felt skittish at speed. Straight line stability was fine but if pushed quickly around bends the machine seemed loose around the swinging arm and did not inspire confidence. Given the spindly nature of the swinging arm this wasn't surprising, but in the 15 months I kept the bike I didn't come off once and became used to the sloppy feel, so it couldn't have been that bad.
The engine, as everyone knows, is a not very powerful 400cc vertical twin with three valves per cylinder. It whined away happily for all the time I had it with not so much as an hiccup. Six gears allowed good progress to be made, making best use of the 45hp - the acceleration was certainly good enough to keep ahead of the cages.
Indeed, on one memorable group ride, the machine gave a good showing when in a pack consisting of a VT500, GPz550 and gingerly ridden Triumph 900 (okay, he was running in at the time). Performance was quite peaky, almost two stroke like. Under 5500 revs not a lot happened, but above that figure the engine pulled like a horse right up to the 10,000rpm red line. The peaky nature did not really suit my riding style, which is smooth and progressive. Constant gearchanging became a chore on long trips and keeping the engine within 10-20% of the red line can never be conducive to longevity, even if Honda built their reputation on high revving four stroke twins.....whatever, I never had any engine problems in the 10,000 miles that I ran the Honda.
Shortly after purchase, I took the bike on a run from Surrey to Durham, 320 miles in one hit. This showed off the Honda's strengths and weaknesses. The day was foul with blustery winds and torrential rain. The M25, M1 and A1(M) are not the best of roads during balmy summer nights let alone a rain soaked Monday morning but the bike whirred on regardless.
Singing at the top of my voice, dry and warm in my waterproofs, I hammered up the fast lane along with the Cavaliers and Sierras, with not a care in the world. The Honda rode beautifully, not sliding once and holding the road in a most reassuring manner. The poor fuel economy revealed by this trip was staggering. A mere 40mpg. With its small tank this led to hitting reserve within 95 miles. Very poor given the moderate performance.
A-road riding normally gave 50mpg but a blast up the motorway soon ate into this figure. During the many fuel stops I was able to lubricate the chain, cursing the lack of full enclosure, and keep an eye on the oil consumption, but it never disappeared at a shocking rate.
The other poor piece of design to rear its ugly head was the hard and uncomfortable saddle. The only excuse for such a diabolical design was to actually make you look forward to the fuel stops every hundred miles. The five minute break to refuel was always enough to renew circulation.
I rode the bike through the winter of '92 with few problems. It took me to work every day, through sleet, rain and ice, and once a week we headed down from Surrey to Hastings early in the morning. The Superdream never complained, always started well and even stayed the right way up when I broadsided her at an icy junction. The only thing that happened once was intermittent starting on the button. A strip down of the switch cluster revealed a corroded contact which when cleaned up and generously covered in good old WD40 worked beautifully from then on.
May saw me eagerly thinking about touring. A mate on a VT500 and I headed off to Wales for a week. The weather was piss poor. We picked the one week in May when it rained torrentially. Still, we were not going to give up and did 1500 miles regardless of the weather, the flooded roads and the looks of astonishment on the cager's faces. All went well apart from one episode when, in pouring rain, I shifted my position on the saddle, which unleashed a cascade of water from my waterproofs down on to the engine. This in turn produced a huge cloud of steam which had the startled cagers swerving left and right, thinking I was on fire!
Seeing a gap open in the fear crazed cages I wound the throttle open to be rewarded by the bike faltering on to one cylinder. Yes, the water had shorted out a plug cap and I had to pull into a covered garage forecourt to let it dry out for two minutes. This had the VT rider in an hysterical fit - it's alright for those with twin plug cylinder heads!
During the trip, the Superdream kept up well with the VT. On long straights the more powerful bike pulled away from the screaming 'Dream but my more gung-ho riding style allowed me to catch up on the twisties. This trip proved the value of shaft drive, though, as every fuel stop I was to be seen lubing my chain whilst the VT rider took five. Chain tightening was necessary every 1000 miles with regular lubrication, but did the thing throw off loads of oil!
All in all, the bike gave me fifteen months of reliable, fun riding and introduced me to real biking. In that time it really only needed one new front tyre and thousand mile oil changes. Ergo, the 400 Superdream doesn't deserve its poor reputation or nasty write-ups.
The astute amongst you will be saying, alright, if you liked the bike so much why don't you have it any more? The answer is that I had the opportunity to buy a Guzzi V65, which is a bike I have wanted for years. So the Superdream went. However, though, I'm totally in love with the Guzzi, I still look back longingly to my happy days with the Honda......and when I hear or read someone slagging off Superdreams yet again my blood really starts to boil!
Mat. T.
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There are a whole list of faults that can afflict Superdreams. The first example I saw displayed them all. Corroded brakes, rusted through collector, rattling camchain, vibratory motor, fading cycle parts and, worst of all, an orang-u-tang owner. He wanted more for the bike than the next example I saw, which for £400 was in reasonable shape, though far from immaculate.
One of the first models, sporting only 29000 miles, I tested it by pulling a wheelie. I knew from past experience that such an act was such a shock to the chassis and engine that if anything was going to break it'd do so then. The bike survived at the price of almost breaking my wrists when the front wheel came down faster than I expected.
The owner looked shocked at such antics but was placated by the dosh. The Superdream clacked away at its 1200rpm tickover, the raucous noise a mixture of balance chain, camchain, tappets, piston slap and clutch rattle. It didn't mean anything was going to fail, after 15000 miles they all sounded like a bag of nails.
Riding home it was easy to realise why the Superdreams were so popular. There was just enough real motorcycle in them to make them interesting with none of the impracticalities of the race replicas. It's easy to dismiss this kind of motorcycle if you're rich, laugh at its looks, handling and performance, but in the real world 110mph, cheap running costs and a lack of speed wobbles are sufficient ingredients to make them good choices for real motorcyclists.
End of lecture back to reality. As I approached my town I casually turned on the lights. Rather that the golden illumination I expected there was a large bang and a dead engine. Oh, the fun of old motorcycles. As my house was only a quarter of a mile away, I pushed the old girl home, giving her the odd kick to ensure that there was no doubting whom was boss.
After half a can of ice cold lager, I was ready to take the world on, or in this case a suddenly malevolent looking CB400N, appearing deadly in black. The fuse holder was a melted blob due to a loose main lead in the headlamp shell. The wiring was bodged to buggery, had I been really enthusiastic I would've torn in all out, instead limiting myself to adding to the bodging. I did find somewhere to bolt the rectifier rather than leave it hanging by its wires.
You have to expect trouble from old bikes and hardly anyone likes electrics. The next morning I approached the bike with an air of desperation but she fired up quickly on the choke, soon settling down to a regular throb-throb. Whilst the CB might not stir the soul or break arm sockets, it goes well enough to kill dead every car in town and if ridden with verve, or reckless disregard for safety, can threaten most 500 twins.
There's 43 horses in there trying to escape but often they seem deeply buried, needing some frantic 7000rpm plus revving in the lower gears to extract a decent turn of speed. Being a Honda, the gearbox's as slick as a 250lb belly dancer, but there's an art to such footwork that a few years with villainous hacks soon develops. If you don't get the knack you either sign up for the HP on a new bike or start stealing them!
So there I was two weeks later, whizzing through town with nary a thought in my mind, when some clown of a ped rushed out of nowhere. I was only doing 40mph but the effect of the front wheel hitting his leg was like a bolt from hell. Both for the ped and myself. My last moment, pure reflex, twirl on the bars saved him from amputation but threw me through the air. The CB landed on the ped rather than moi, so there is a bit of natural justice left in this life.
I landed on my helmet and survived without serious injury but the ped was sent off in an ambulance screaming like a pig about to be slaughtered. The cop took down all the details but it didn't worry me as I had neither money nor property and it wasn't even my fault, though from the kind of looks I got from the crowd I could be a mass murderer.
Damage to the Honda was bent bars, smashed indicators and a dented tank. Nothing that couldn't be ignored or put right with my stash of spares. A week later I heard a duo of rattles, both cam and balancer tensioners needing attention. The former was supposed to be automatic, but would stick, requiring a whack from a hammer and a squirt of WD40. The balancer tensioner was an invention of the devil with the express purpose of making me blaspheme but a spare hour or two had it at the end of its adjustment. The final solution to balancer problems is complete removal of the system.
Having expended such effort it only seemed fair that the old dud should take me on a weekend's debauchery, er, camping. A very nervous girlfriend was strapped on to the pillion with bungee cords to get her in the mood. My two man tent would do the rest. Some hope, it rained the whole weekend and we ended up in a Blackpool B and B with a vicious landlady who stayed up all night to make sure I didn't sneak into the babe's room. To cap it all off, the Honda wouldn't start until I fitted another coil (I had a sack full of spares) and I had to suffer the old bag screaming at me all the time to move the dirty heap away from her house.
The CB400 ran well enough with the combined mass of rider and pillion (about 18 stone) but I had to cane it along in gear lower than I'd normally use. The rear Showa shocks were off some bigger Honda but still let in a little wallowing, probably due to a bit of give in the minimal swinging arm - looked to me that they were using up old CD175 stock!
Baffleless silencers matched to a holed airfilter helped fuel economy stay around 55 to 60mpg, unless I went really silly with the throttle when it'd go down to 45mpg but I didn't do that too often because engine vibes indicated imminent demise. I know, it's fun to blow up old Honda engines and throw a match in the tank in the town centre - and, god knows, me and my mates have done it often enough - but at that juncture in time I couldn't afford such wasteful antics. Readers should realise that in the general course of things, old Japs like the CB are so worn out come 50 to 60,000 that there's very little to salvage from the effects of corrosion and metal fatigue. A match in the tank could even be considered ecologically sound (if you're on drugs).
After a couple of months I'd sorted out all the urgent problems, which included caliper rebuild, welding the holes in the collector, fitting gaiters on the forks to hide the leaking seals and replacing the teflon Jap tyres with a newish set of Avons. There was still the odd weave but even on bare tyres the Superdream remained stable enough. Tyres seem to last less well with each passing year, I was only getting about 8000 miles out of the Avons.
A series of electrical faults couldn't be cured by languidly emptying a can of WD40 over the bike. After much farting around I worked out that both handlebar switch clusters were in a bad way. I cursed with the abandon of a drunken journo when I saw all the internal bits rolling down the tarmac but saved myself by buying a used set from the kid across the road who'd ridden into the back of a bus on a CB250N. The car following him had finished off the back end; all that was left was a working engine and a few electrical bits. The 250 version is so bland that it'd only entice C90 veterans with blood congealed into lead.
With the electrics sorted I was able to push the mileage to just below 42000. At that point, though the bike still went fine, I deduced from the increase in vibes that it was within 5000 miles of expiring. I'd experienced Honda's before that'd run and run until the combined wear of all the components proved suddenly too much and there'd be nothing left to salvage from the seized up wreck. Built in obsolescence, I believe it's called in polite circles (Jap crap in others). I sold the bike to the kid across the street who had the 250 mill to fall back upon. He hasn't blown the 400 engine with 49000 miles done.
H.R.
One of the first models, sporting only 29000 miles, I tested it by pulling a wheelie. I knew from past experience that such an act was such a shock to the chassis and engine that if anything was going to break it'd do so then. The bike survived at the price of almost breaking my wrists when the front wheel came down faster than I expected.
The owner looked shocked at such antics but was placated by the dosh. The Superdream clacked away at its 1200rpm tickover, the raucous noise a mixture of balance chain, camchain, tappets, piston slap and clutch rattle. It didn't mean anything was going to fail, after 15000 miles they all sounded like a bag of nails.
Riding home it was easy to realise why the Superdreams were so popular. There was just enough real motorcycle in them to make them interesting with none of the impracticalities of the race replicas. It's easy to dismiss this kind of motorcycle if you're rich, laugh at its looks, handling and performance, but in the real world 110mph, cheap running costs and a lack of speed wobbles are sufficient ingredients to make them good choices for real motorcyclists.
End of lecture back to reality. As I approached my town I casually turned on the lights. Rather that the golden illumination I expected there was a large bang and a dead engine. Oh, the fun of old motorcycles. As my house was only a quarter of a mile away, I pushed the old girl home, giving her the odd kick to ensure that there was no doubting whom was boss.
After half a can of ice cold lager, I was ready to take the world on, or in this case a suddenly malevolent looking CB400N, appearing deadly in black. The fuse holder was a melted blob due to a loose main lead in the headlamp shell. The wiring was bodged to buggery, had I been really enthusiastic I would've torn in all out, instead limiting myself to adding to the bodging. I did find somewhere to bolt the rectifier rather than leave it hanging by its wires.
You have to expect trouble from old bikes and hardly anyone likes electrics. The next morning I approached the bike with an air of desperation but she fired up quickly on the choke, soon settling down to a regular throb-throb. Whilst the CB might not stir the soul or break arm sockets, it goes well enough to kill dead every car in town and if ridden with verve, or reckless disregard for safety, can threaten most 500 twins.
There's 43 horses in there trying to escape but often they seem deeply buried, needing some frantic 7000rpm plus revving in the lower gears to extract a decent turn of speed. Being a Honda, the gearbox's as slick as a 250lb belly dancer, but there's an art to such footwork that a few years with villainous hacks soon develops. If you don't get the knack you either sign up for the HP on a new bike or start stealing them!
So there I was two weeks later, whizzing through town with nary a thought in my mind, when some clown of a ped rushed out of nowhere. I was only doing 40mph but the effect of the front wheel hitting his leg was like a bolt from hell. Both for the ped and myself. My last moment, pure reflex, twirl on the bars saved him from amputation but threw me through the air. The CB landed on the ped rather than moi, so there is a bit of natural justice left in this life.
I landed on my helmet and survived without serious injury but the ped was sent off in an ambulance screaming like a pig about to be slaughtered. The cop took down all the details but it didn't worry me as I had neither money nor property and it wasn't even my fault, though from the kind of looks I got from the crowd I could be a mass murderer.
Damage to the Honda was bent bars, smashed indicators and a dented tank. Nothing that couldn't be ignored or put right with my stash of spares. A week later I heard a duo of rattles, both cam and balancer tensioners needing attention. The former was supposed to be automatic, but would stick, requiring a whack from a hammer and a squirt of WD40. The balancer tensioner was an invention of the devil with the express purpose of making me blaspheme but a spare hour or two had it at the end of its adjustment. The final solution to balancer problems is complete removal of the system.
Having expended such effort it only seemed fair that the old dud should take me on a weekend's debauchery, er, camping. A very nervous girlfriend was strapped on to the pillion with bungee cords to get her in the mood. My two man tent would do the rest. Some hope, it rained the whole weekend and we ended up in a Blackpool B and B with a vicious landlady who stayed up all night to make sure I didn't sneak into the babe's room. To cap it all off, the Honda wouldn't start until I fitted another coil (I had a sack full of spares) and I had to suffer the old bag screaming at me all the time to move the dirty heap away from her house.
The CB400 ran well enough with the combined mass of rider and pillion (about 18 stone) but I had to cane it along in gear lower than I'd normally use. The rear Showa shocks were off some bigger Honda but still let in a little wallowing, probably due to a bit of give in the minimal swinging arm - looked to me that they were using up old CD175 stock!
Baffleless silencers matched to a holed airfilter helped fuel economy stay around 55 to 60mpg, unless I went really silly with the throttle when it'd go down to 45mpg but I didn't do that too often because engine vibes indicated imminent demise. I know, it's fun to blow up old Honda engines and throw a match in the tank in the town centre - and, god knows, me and my mates have done it often enough - but at that juncture in time I couldn't afford such wasteful antics. Readers should realise that in the general course of things, old Japs like the CB are so worn out come 50 to 60,000 that there's very little to salvage from the effects of corrosion and metal fatigue. A match in the tank could even be considered ecologically sound (if you're on drugs).
After a couple of months I'd sorted out all the urgent problems, which included caliper rebuild, welding the holes in the collector, fitting gaiters on the forks to hide the leaking seals and replacing the teflon Jap tyres with a newish set of Avons. There was still the odd weave but even on bare tyres the Superdream remained stable enough. Tyres seem to last less well with each passing year, I was only getting about 8000 miles out of the Avons.
A series of electrical faults couldn't be cured by languidly emptying a can of WD40 over the bike. After much farting around I worked out that both handlebar switch clusters were in a bad way. I cursed with the abandon of a drunken journo when I saw all the internal bits rolling down the tarmac but saved myself by buying a used set from the kid across the road who'd ridden into the back of a bus on a CB250N. The car following him had finished off the back end; all that was left was a working engine and a few electrical bits. The 250 version is so bland that it'd only entice C90 veterans with blood congealed into lead.
With the electrics sorted I was able to push the mileage to just below 42000. At that point, though the bike still went fine, I deduced from the increase in vibes that it was within 5000 miles of expiring. I'd experienced Honda's before that'd run and run until the combined wear of all the components proved suddenly too much and there'd be nothing left to salvage from the seized up wreck. Built in obsolescence, I believe it's called in polite circles (Jap crap in others). I sold the bike to the kid across the street who had the 250 mill to fall back upon. He hasn't blown the 400 engine with 49000 miles done.
H.R.
****************************************************
Introduced in 1978, the Superdream rapidly became a top seller and changed little over the next few years. The CB400 went through NA, NB and NC incarnations which seemed to differ only in colour scheme. A Deluxe model put in an appearance with black Comstar wheels and fins on the tail fairing, an external oil feed to the head and twin piston brakes being the only mechanical changes.
Even today, the vertical twin OHC motors in the CB350S and 450 look very similar to the early engines. Internals include chain driven balance shafts, three valves per cylinder, electronic ignition and all the usual triumphs of Japanese engineering.
I'd had a spin on a friend's 250 which seemed smooth, comfortable and fast compared to my humble CD175 but I had still opted for a GT250 for the sake of some rattle and roll. When this blew a piston after 12 months I threw the engine back together and took my earnings on a tour of bike shops.
A two month old 400 with 1200 miles on the clock weighed in at 450 notes plus the Suzuki which unknown to the salesman was back on one cylinder. The CB was red, had twin discs at the front, a halogen headlamp and promised a little more in the way of riding and less spannering than the old GT. In the tradition of Superdream owners I took it home to show my mum and celebrated with a glass of ginger beer shandy.
Being a student many of my friends suffered greater agonies than a CB400NA, so I did not get the piss taken out of me too much. Far worse was the comment of a non-motorcycling girlfriend who squealed, 'Oh, isn't it pretty.' She ended up with a guy with an XS1100, so I suppose size does matter.
The motor revved very freely for its relative youth, the redline coming up rapidly in each gear, apart from sixth which was very much an overdrive. The surge of acceleration that I was used to on the 250 Suzuki at 5000rpm never occurred but I soon discovered that ground could be covered quite rapidly by the simple expedient of holding the throttle fully open all the time. On the motorway there was sufficient speed to ensure that I wasn't squashed beneath continental artics.
One trip to Bridlington highlighted the capability of the 400. We set off from Bristol in the company of an XS750, a Guzzi Le Mans, a 650 Bonnie and a Trident. The Triumph owners had been told they were allowed five breakdowns between them and meeting points were agreed to allow me to catch up. In the event, the combination of the Fosse Way, dry roads and respect for licences ensured that we all stayed together. The Triumphs suffered only one set-back when a throttle cable melted on the cylinder head and jammed open.
He shot past me along a straight which I took as something of a challenge, and happily ran the Honda into the red until a few bends appeared. Not renown for his lack of bottle, he swept through these with aplomb and we caught up with him sitting at the side of the road a few miles later smoking a cigarette with trembling hand, having pulled a spark plug lead off to save the motor and his soul.
The only problem with using all the performance came with frequent fuel stops - 40mpg was the norm - although these did allow blood to return to the extremities. The seat was designed more with style than function in mind and the bar to foot position meant that the back and neck suffered, especially on motorways. The Le Mans had the best of the high speed work, cramped only by the pillion, although the owner was impressed by my ability to keep up; the gear ratios in top on the CB equated to his first gear, but I didn't hear him offering a swap.
The handling was fairly neutral. After hearing of bad experiences with the original Bridgestone tyres, I was reasonably content with the Yokohomas fitted. They went after 8000 miles and a bad puncture to be replaced by TT100s. There was still tread on the front but it had caused a few moments in the wet. This was exacerbated in the early days by lag in the brakes which had caused a tumble in Eversham High Street when a bus presented its posterior to me with the enthusiasm of a mating panda. Ferodo pads followed soon after.
Apart from spares, the Honda was not expensive to run. However, this owed more to my policy of not spending money than the longevity of the bike. The plugs were changed once and the oil every 3000 miles or so - at least until I rounded the absurd little head on the oil drain bolt. Watch for this if you ever contemplate buying a Dream, look to see if it's in good nick or has been replaced with a larger headed nut.
The exhaust system rotted as thoroughly as expected. The collector box was hidden by a couple of chrome guards and was rusty in a few months. Treatment with rust converter, primer and layers of rust-proof, heat-proof paint covered this up for about a fortnight. The only solution seems to be teflon coating at new.
Even this would not have stopped the silencers rotting around the collector box union until they were only held in place by the power of positive thinking. A friend with a similar machine offered me his set of pipes since he was indulging in a 2-1, rear-sets and drops. I can think of dentists who could have fun filling the cavities if they hadn't anything better to do.
In fact, the exhaust system was a waste of space, being heavy, badly finished, incredibly expensive and shrouding the rear wheel in such a way as to make removal difficult. The upswept silencers ensured that my throwovers melted on the first trip. Motads and Alphas are the favoured replacements.
One annoying problem I suffered was a tendency to blow main fuses. When they started disappearing every 20 miles or so I took the bike to a friendly workshop. They found a slight split in one of the indicator leads which I had missed and patted me on the head. 20 miles later another fuse went, they suggested I replace the fuse with a bolt.
This worked well until one day the pillion pointed out that the wiring harness was going up in flames. Eventually, I found that the horn mounting had worked loose and was vibrating its way through the wires. Once covered with insulating tape, the problem disappeared.
One weekend I was cajoled into loaning the machine to a friend in return for his Morini 350 Sport. After a weekend with the Morini I had some affection for it, tempered by the cramped riding position, the on-off clutch and an awkward kickstart. The Morini owner came back extolling the virtues of the easy revving twin (through to twelve, he said) and the relative comfort. Having owned a 400F which the twins had replaced he said that my bike was faster, handled better and was more comfortable. The fact that he still preferred the four says a lot about the charisma of the Superdream.
After 13000 miles the machine had lost its youthful vitality. The handling had become rather bouncy on anything but the smoothest surface. The paint was flaking from the tank and swinging arm. Despite attention to the screw and locknut tappets and the rather simple camchain tensioner, the top end was distinctly noisy. The chain had only half worn through and the electronic ignition problem that seemed to bug the 250s at even low mileage had not arisen.
Less pleasing was a rather unnerving tendency for the motor to nip up in the fast lane when flogged along for mile after mile. However, the engine always freed up before I hit the hard shoulder and would continue without fuss if the throttle was eased off slightly. Never before had I owned a machine that I was so ready to charge off on hundred mile hikes just for the hell of it.
Perhaps because the motor was so willing, the brakes and chassis so effective and forgiving, I took one liberty too many with the Honda and ended up in a corn field a couple of hundred yards from the corner I was attempting to take. While I managed to walk away with a hole in my elbow and a scrape in my bum (much to the relief of a very shaken car driver who had observed my precipitous exit from the corner), the bike had discovered the meaning of terminal velocity.
The forks were bent as were the bars and yokes. Every ancillary part that could break had and the exhausts I never even found. A very nice man from National Breakdown towed me to Bristol in time to miss the wedding he was expected at.
This should really be the end of the tale. I advertised the bits that were left - basically engine and brakes -as a bolt on go faster kit for 250s. The first response was from a bloke in Wales who had a blown up a Dream complete with fairing, Girlings and Motad, who offered to bring the chassis down if I wanted to buy it. I had just negotiated a loan for a Kawasaki 750, but a friend wanted a cheap bike so he bought the chassis and my engine and put them together.
The wrecked engine was stripped and cleaned - a piston had shattered and filled all the crevices with an interesting sludge - and sold as were the brakes and electrics. The whole bike went on happily for another 10,000 miles before being sold for £300. Looking back on it, the engine was probably worth more - a lot of interest resulted from the ad. The CDI was snapped up quickly too.
A recent publication mooted the Superdreams as practical classics of the eighties. However, just as Stork, Itchen and Walterman don't produce quality music just because they dominate the charts, the popularity of the Superdream should not be taken as a guideline for the longevity of their charms.
One mag touted 114mph as top speed for the 400, which is not outrageous given the right road and conditions. Certainly, given the quality of the opposition in the class at the time the Superdreams seemed attractive. Times have changed, thank god, and the gentle insistence on the part of the Japanese that we do all want race replica, high performance mobiles or bad handling Yank customs seems to have paid off. With this in mind, the current generation of Dream descendants seem to have their work cut out in a competitive market.
As cheap (and looking at the prices of the CB350S and CB450 I would like to emphasize that word), effective transport they are reasonable bikes but I wouldn't expect much admiration to be expressed for even mint examples in years to come. What you would guarantee is a lot of people commenting, perhaps without great affection, "Gawd, I used to have one of those once."
Paul Burgess
Even today, the vertical twin OHC motors in the CB350S and 450 look very similar to the early engines. Internals include chain driven balance shafts, three valves per cylinder, electronic ignition and all the usual triumphs of Japanese engineering.
I'd had a spin on a friend's 250 which seemed smooth, comfortable and fast compared to my humble CD175 but I had still opted for a GT250 for the sake of some rattle and roll. When this blew a piston after 12 months I threw the engine back together and took my earnings on a tour of bike shops.
A two month old 400 with 1200 miles on the clock weighed in at 450 notes plus the Suzuki which unknown to the salesman was back on one cylinder. The CB was red, had twin discs at the front, a halogen headlamp and promised a little more in the way of riding and less spannering than the old GT. In the tradition of Superdream owners I took it home to show my mum and celebrated with a glass of ginger beer shandy.
Being a student many of my friends suffered greater agonies than a CB400NA, so I did not get the piss taken out of me too much. Far worse was the comment of a non-motorcycling girlfriend who squealed, 'Oh, isn't it pretty.' She ended up with a guy with an XS1100, so I suppose size does matter.
The motor revved very freely for its relative youth, the redline coming up rapidly in each gear, apart from sixth which was very much an overdrive. The surge of acceleration that I was used to on the 250 Suzuki at 5000rpm never occurred but I soon discovered that ground could be covered quite rapidly by the simple expedient of holding the throttle fully open all the time. On the motorway there was sufficient speed to ensure that I wasn't squashed beneath continental artics.
One trip to Bridlington highlighted the capability of the 400. We set off from Bristol in the company of an XS750, a Guzzi Le Mans, a 650 Bonnie and a Trident. The Triumph owners had been told they were allowed five breakdowns between them and meeting points were agreed to allow me to catch up. In the event, the combination of the Fosse Way, dry roads and respect for licences ensured that we all stayed together. The Triumphs suffered only one set-back when a throttle cable melted on the cylinder head and jammed open.
He shot past me along a straight which I took as something of a challenge, and happily ran the Honda into the red until a few bends appeared. Not renown for his lack of bottle, he swept through these with aplomb and we caught up with him sitting at the side of the road a few miles later smoking a cigarette with trembling hand, having pulled a spark plug lead off to save the motor and his soul.
The only problem with using all the performance came with frequent fuel stops - 40mpg was the norm - although these did allow blood to return to the extremities. The seat was designed more with style than function in mind and the bar to foot position meant that the back and neck suffered, especially on motorways. The Le Mans had the best of the high speed work, cramped only by the pillion, although the owner was impressed by my ability to keep up; the gear ratios in top on the CB equated to his first gear, but I didn't hear him offering a swap.
The handling was fairly neutral. After hearing of bad experiences with the original Bridgestone tyres, I was reasonably content with the Yokohomas fitted. They went after 8000 miles and a bad puncture to be replaced by TT100s. There was still tread on the front but it had caused a few moments in the wet. This was exacerbated in the early days by lag in the brakes which had caused a tumble in Eversham High Street when a bus presented its posterior to me with the enthusiasm of a mating panda. Ferodo pads followed soon after.
Apart from spares, the Honda was not expensive to run. However, this owed more to my policy of not spending money than the longevity of the bike. The plugs were changed once and the oil every 3000 miles or so - at least until I rounded the absurd little head on the oil drain bolt. Watch for this if you ever contemplate buying a Dream, look to see if it's in good nick or has been replaced with a larger headed nut.
The exhaust system rotted as thoroughly as expected. The collector box was hidden by a couple of chrome guards and was rusty in a few months. Treatment with rust converter, primer and layers of rust-proof, heat-proof paint covered this up for about a fortnight. The only solution seems to be teflon coating at new.
Even this would not have stopped the silencers rotting around the collector box union until they were only held in place by the power of positive thinking. A friend with a similar machine offered me his set of pipes since he was indulging in a 2-1, rear-sets and drops. I can think of dentists who could have fun filling the cavities if they hadn't anything better to do.
In fact, the exhaust system was a waste of space, being heavy, badly finished, incredibly expensive and shrouding the rear wheel in such a way as to make removal difficult. The upswept silencers ensured that my throwovers melted on the first trip. Motads and Alphas are the favoured replacements.
One annoying problem I suffered was a tendency to blow main fuses. When they started disappearing every 20 miles or so I took the bike to a friendly workshop. They found a slight split in one of the indicator leads which I had missed and patted me on the head. 20 miles later another fuse went, they suggested I replace the fuse with a bolt.
This worked well until one day the pillion pointed out that the wiring harness was going up in flames. Eventually, I found that the horn mounting had worked loose and was vibrating its way through the wires. Once covered with insulating tape, the problem disappeared.
One weekend I was cajoled into loaning the machine to a friend in return for his Morini 350 Sport. After a weekend with the Morini I had some affection for it, tempered by the cramped riding position, the on-off clutch and an awkward kickstart. The Morini owner came back extolling the virtues of the easy revving twin (through to twelve, he said) and the relative comfort. Having owned a 400F which the twins had replaced he said that my bike was faster, handled better and was more comfortable. The fact that he still preferred the four says a lot about the charisma of the Superdream.
After 13000 miles the machine had lost its youthful vitality. The handling had become rather bouncy on anything but the smoothest surface. The paint was flaking from the tank and swinging arm. Despite attention to the screw and locknut tappets and the rather simple camchain tensioner, the top end was distinctly noisy. The chain had only half worn through and the electronic ignition problem that seemed to bug the 250s at even low mileage had not arisen.
Less pleasing was a rather unnerving tendency for the motor to nip up in the fast lane when flogged along for mile after mile. However, the engine always freed up before I hit the hard shoulder and would continue without fuss if the throttle was eased off slightly. Never before had I owned a machine that I was so ready to charge off on hundred mile hikes just for the hell of it.
Perhaps because the motor was so willing, the brakes and chassis so effective and forgiving, I took one liberty too many with the Honda and ended up in a corn field a couple of hundred yards from the corner I was attempting to take. While I managed to walk away with a hole in my elbow and a scrape in my bum (much to the relief of a very shaken car driver who had observed my precipitous exit from the corner), the bike had discovered the meaning of terminal velocity.
The forks were bent as were the bars and yokes. Every ancillary part that could break had and the exhausts I never even found. A very nice man from National Breakdown towed me to Bristol in time to miss the wedding he was expected at.
This should really be the end of the tale. I advertised the bits that were left - basically engine and brakes -as a bolt on go faster kit for 250s. The first response was from a bloke in Wales who had a blown up a Dream complete with fairing, Girlings and Motad, who offered to bring the chassis down if I wanted to buy it. I had just negotiated a loan for a Kawasaki 750, but a friend wanted a cheap bike so he bought the chassis and my engine and put them together.
The wrecked engine was stripped and cleaned - a piston had shattered and filled all the crevices with an interesting sludge - and sold as were the brakes and electrics. The whole bike went on happily for another 10,000 miles before being sold for £300. Looking back on it, the engine was probably worth more - a lot of interest resulted from the ad. The CDI was snapped up quickly too.
A recent publication mooted the Superdreams as practical classics of the eighties. However, just as Stork, Itchen and Walterman don't produce quality music just because they dominate the charts, the popularity of the Superdream should not be taken as a guideline for the longevity of their charms.
One mag touted 114mph as top speed for the 400, which is not outrageous given the right road and conditions. Certainly, given the quality of the opposition in the class at the time the Superdreams seemed attractive. Times have changed, thank god, and the gentle insistence on the part of the Japanese that we do all want race replica, high performance mobiles or bad handling Yank customs seems to have paid off. With this in mind, the current generation of Dream descendants seem to have their work cut out in a competitive market.
As cheap (and looking at the prices of the CB350S and CB450 I would like to emphasize that word), effective transport they are reasonable bikes but I wouldn't expect much admiration to be expressed for even mint examples in years to come. What you would guarantee is a lot of people commenting, perhaps without great affection, "Gawd, I used to have one of those once."
Paul Burgess
****************************************************
When I went on my first long ride on the Honda I wondered if I'd bought a pneumatic drill. It just didn't want to run smoothly in the 90 to 110mph range. To get those kinds of speed, I had to crouch down on to the tank and work hard on the gearbox and throttle. Just about every part of the machine blurred with the vibration, despite its balancer system. Vertical twin vibes rule!
This despite the bike being totally renovated a mere 4000 miles previously. Complete engine and chassis rebuild by a local mechanic who had a lorry load of Superdream parts! He was knocking out a couple of renovated bikes a month at £1500 a throw. I'd bought the bike off my neighbour after he'd had enough of winter riding.
The Honda was a bit like a reluctant mistress. Just when you'd had enough of the deal it'd do something exceptional, like a 90mph drone down the M1 for a couple of hours; ended up ticking over like new. Other times it'd go into a misfire in the wet, not conking out completely but going down on to one cylinder then switching back to full power.
It was just as well that it was basically a good handling bike - very neutral with no nasty surprises. Felt a little top heavy at first but this soon faded as the miles piled up. Superdreams are the kind of bikes that do most things okay but never become exceptional. They usually end up on a hiding to nothing, as they don't inspire much love in their owners. The whole thing shagged out in 50,000 miles. The mechanic offered £100 for dead ones, so probably made a grand a throw on the renovated examples. Not bad money if you can get it. I'd paid £1250 for mine.
The main limitation was the vibration that came with excessive revving. This had an effect on my panniers, which were secured by a couple of brackets bought from an Ironmonger's! The right-hand one came loose at the ton, started flapping around in the breeze and I only noticed when the thing flew through the air and I caught a glance of it in the mirrors.
I skidded to a halt - never a quick job on the Dream, despite twin discs out front - turned around just in time to see some massive, wallowing artic flatten the plastic. All that was left were a couple of bits of GRP! Luckily, there wasn't anything in it. When I looked, the other pannier's brackets were just starting to fracture, so I whipped it off and strapped it down on the pillion.
Extended exposure to the pillion perch turned young ladies a bit cattish. The vibes didn't do anything for them, the pillion pegs thrumming away much more than my own. After a hundred miles they staggered around like I'd humped them up the backdoor and expanded my knowledge of swear words. I was a bit saddle sore myself, after that length of exposure, but I've done 400 miles in a day and I'm still here to tell the tale.
Pillions weren't really recommended because they knocked the performance right back. What had been capable of staying with the majority of cages up to 90mph, two-up turned into a slow moving accident looking for somewhere to happen. Overtaking was especially fraught - I'd sit there with a desperate grip on the bars, hoping against hope that we were going to stagger past the cage before some oncoming car squashed us.
When the car I was overtaking decided to speed up, there was never enough guts left to see him off. The solution, two-up, was to ride in a mild, mature manner; no doubt making the pillion thankful for my apparent sanity. Solo, the solution was to thrash the bike into the red all the time, when performance was acceptable without ever being exhilarating.
The only weakness in the stability and handling, solo, was from the back end. The infamous FVQ shocks would bottom out over bumpy going, let the back end shimmy around. It was never really dangerous, though, no sign of speed wobbles. Two up, the suspension sagged, ground clearance problems making fast curves problematical - the undercarriage dug in, the bike going into maximum tilt and crash mode. Scared the shit out of unwary pillions and nearly broke my leg when I had to get my foot down on one occasion. The Superdream weighed less than 400lbs, making it relatively easy to fight into submission.
Starting was always good, even in sub zero temperatures. The bike warmed up quickly, which is more than can be said for me. As I had a cheapo helmet and visor, in freezing fog I had to ride with the latter up to avoid the condensation. The mixture of vibes and the icy blast left my eyes all rheumy and bloodshot. The buzzing didn't help with my blood circulation, various extremities going numb. The solution would've been a big fairing, but its excessive mass and poor aerodynamics would've ruined the lively performance.
I ended up with a set of handlebar muffs. Nice warm mitts but when the weather turned really icy, the indicator switch seized up, meaning I had to get my hand out fast. Not easy with thick gloves rammed inside the muffs, and I nearly came a cropper several times. Fortunately, spraying WD40 over the switches got them working again.
The front light was quite adequate for out of town riding. That was, when it wasn't blowing - those high rev ton-plus sorties again. I once blew both main and dip within ten seconds! That left me in the middle of nowhere with no lights! I managed to rig up the back light in the headlamp! That left me easy prey for back-enders as I couldn't speed with the dim glow out front. The wiring loom was new, so no problems with failing insulation, something you should expect at this age from a bike that hasn't been renovated.
The finish survived a winter. Quite impressive until I rode through some gravel. Stones strafed the bike like a machine gun on automatic. Paint was chipped and large sections of chrome soon sprouted rust. Riding into a pile of gravel at speed was quite fun until I saw the damage, the bike just skewed all over the road but didn't throw me off.
This basic stability shouldn't be confused with ruggedness. The engine notoriously wears out all its engine parts simultaneously around 50,000 miles, and even the chassis can rot away in important places - like where the shocks' studs are welded on! No problem with my bike but I wouldn't trust it after 20,000 miles of abuse.
One incident does stay in the mind. I was grinding along the A4, happy enough with the world, when there was a whoosh to my right. A bloody big Volvo came alongside, then tried to knock me off. I cursed, whacked the Honda over to the gutter as the maniac cut in front of me. Such was the violence of my input that the bike ran into the side of the road, the front wheel wobbling alarmingly. I really thought I was going to lose it all, but the Honda pulled itself together and I sped off after Mr Volvo, who had his rear lights kicked in at the next junction.
Don't know what that says about the Honda. Too slow to burn off Volvo's but stable enough to shrug off their stupidity? Little incidents like that add up, made me think the Honda's a touch better than the sum of its mediocre parts. Worth a look.
Roy Wicks
This despite the bike being totally renovated a mere 4000 miles previously. Complete engine and chassis rebuild by a local mechanic who had a lorry load of Superdream parts! He was knocking out a couple of renovated bikes a month at £1500 a throw. I'd bought the bike off my neighbour after he'd had enough of winter riding.
The Honda was a bit like a reluctant mistress. Just when you'd had enough of the deal it'd do something exceptional, like a 90mph drone down the M1 for a couple of hours; ended up ticking over like new. Other times it'd go into a misfire in the wet, not conking out completely but going down on to one cylinder then switching back to full power.
It was just as well that it was basically a good handling bike - very neutral with no nasty surprises. Felt a little top heavy at first but this soon faded as the miles piled up. Superdreams are the kind of bikes that do most things okay but never become exceptional. They usually end up on a hiding to nothing, as they don't inspire much love in their owners. The whole thing shagged out in 50,000 miles. The mechanic offered £100 for dead ones, so probably made a grand a throw on the renovated examples. Not bad money if you can get it. I'd paid £1250 for mine.
The main limitation was the vibration that came with excessive revving. This had an effect on my panniers, which were secured by a couple of brackets bought from an Ironmonger's! The right-hand one came loose at the ton, started flapping around in the breeze and I only noticed when the thing flew through the air and I caught a glance of it in the mirrors.
I skidded to a halt - never a quick job on the Dream, despite twin discs out front - turned around just in time to see some massive, wallowing artic flatten the plastic. All that was left were a couple of bits of GRP! Luckily, there wasn't anything in it. When I looked, the other pannier's brackets were just starting to fracture, so I whipped it off and strapped it down on the pillion.
Extended exposure to the pillion perch turned young ladies a bit cattish. The vibes didn't do anything for them, the pillion pegs thrumming away much more than my own. After a hundred miles they staggered around like I'd humped them up the backdoor and expanded my knowledge of swear words. I was a bit saddle sore myself, after that length of exposure, but I've done 400 miles in a day and I'm still here to tell the tale.
Pillions weren't really recommended because they knocked the performance right back. What had been capable of staying with the majority of cages up to 90mph, two-up turned into a slow moving accident looking for somewhere to happen. Overtaking was especially fraught - I'd sit there with a desperate grip on the bars, hoping against hope that we were going to stagger past the cage before some oncoming car squashed us.
When the car I was overtaking decided to speed up, there was never enough guts left to see him off. The solution, two-up, was to ride in a mild, mature manner; no doubt making the pillion thankful for my apparent sanity. Solo, the solution was to thrash the bike into the red all the time, when performance was acceptable without ever being exhilarating.
The only weakness in the stability and handling, solo, was from the back end. The infamous FVQ shocks would bottom out over bumpy going, let the back end shimmy around. It was never really dangerous, though, no sign of speed wobbles. Two up, the suspension sagged, ground clearance problems making fast curves problematical - the undercarriage dug in, the bike going into maximum tilt and crash mode. Scared the shit out of unwary pillions and nearly broke my leg when I had to get my foot down on one occasion. The Superdream weighed less than 400lbs, making it relatively easy to fight into submission.
Starting was always good, even in sub zero temperatures. The bike warmed up quickly, which is more than can be said for me. As I had a cheapo helmet and visor, in freezing fog I had to ride with the latter up to avoid the condensation. The mixture of vibes and the icy blast left my eyes all rheumy and bloodshot. The buzzing didn't help with my blood circulation, various extremities going numb. The solution would've been a big fairing, but its excessive mass and poor aerodynamics would've ruined the lively performance.
I ended up with a set of handlebar muffs. Nice warm mitts but when the weather turned really icy, the indicator switch seized up, meaning I had to get my hand out fast. Not easy with thick gloves rammed inside the muffs, and I nearly came a cropper several times. Fortunately, spraying WD40 over the switches got them working again.
The front light was quite adequate for out of town riding. That was, when it wasn't blowing - those high rev ton-plus sorties again. I once blew both main and dip within ten seconds! That left me in the middle of nowhere with no lights! I managed to rig up the back light in the headlamp! That left me easy prey for back-enders as I couldn't speed with the dim glow out front. The wiring loom was new, so no problems with failing insulation, something you should expect at this age from a bike that hasn't been renovated.
The finish survived a winter. Quite impressive until I rode through some gravel. Stones strafed the bike like a machine gun on automatic. Paint was chipped and large sections of chrome soon sprouted rust. Riding into a pile of gravel at speed was quite fun until I saw the damage, the bike just skewed all over the road but didn't throw me off.
This basic stability shouldn't be confused with ruggedness. The engine notoriously wears out all its engine parts simultaneously around 50,000 miles, and even the chassis can rot away in important places - like where the shocks' studs are welded on! No problem with my bike but I wouldn't trust it after 20,000 miles of abuse.
One incident does stay in the mind. I was grinding along the A4, happy enough with the world, when there was a whoosh to my right. A bloody big Volvo came alongside, then tried to knock me off. I cursed, whacked the Honda over to the gutter as the maniac cut in front of me. Such was the violence of my input that the bike ran into the side of the road, the front wheel wobbling alarmingly. I really thought I was going to lose it all, but the Honda pulled itself together and I sped off after Mr Volvo, who had his rear lights kicked in at the next junction.
Don't know what that says about the Honda. Too slow to burn off Volvo's but stable enough to shrug off their stupidity? Little incidents like that add up, made me think the Honda's a touch better than the sum of its mediocre parts. Worth a look.
Roy Wicks