Like a lot of people I was looking for something cheap and reliable. This usually means ending up with a slow and boring motorcycle which sends you to sleep before it gets to 60mph. The aptly named Dream (as in zzzzzzzz) always seemed to me a perfect example of this type. I'd ridden plenty of the 250s and wasn't impressed, to say the least.
The steering and handling were okay, but the performance was pathetic. So when I saw an early 400 advertised for what appeared to be a reasonable price I didn't exactly leap out of the bath screaming Eureka (real bikers don't have baths anyway).
It looked in good condition, with about 14000 miles on the clock. Its previous owner had been a member of the plod squad, no less. Naturally, I was immediately suspicious. He'd obviously been a keen Chips viewer and had kitted his own bike out as a small fry imitation of the genre - tinted screen, crash bar mounted lights, etc. Mechanically, it was standard.... even the silencers and FVQ shocks were original! Apart from the embarrassment of being seen riding the thing, I couldn't think of a good reason for not buying it, so a smallish wad of notes changed hands there and then.
Once out on the open road, I was pleasantly surprised. The engine pulled well at all revs up to the redline at 10,000rpm; even a bit above, and the handling seemed fine. My last bikes had been a Ducati Darmah and a Bonnie, so my riding style needed a bit of adjustment at first, but the performance certainly couldn't have been described as flat.
Indeed, after a few miles I was forced to come to the conclusion that it was as fast as the Triumph most of the time. Even in top gear pulling power the Honda wouldn't have been disgraced. I was amazed to discover that one particular hill where the Bonnie had needed fourth or even third, the Honda could climb easily without cogging down.
Of course, part of the secret lies in lower overall gearing (10mph/1000rpm in top) but it was impressive, nevertheless. Maybe three valve heads and power chamber exhausts really do work. Flat out it was good for the ton, but I always thought it had enough power to cope with slightly raised gearing, which might have gained a bit more speed.
It certainly wouldn't have harmed the fuel consumption, which refused to go above 50mpg however slowly I rode. Compared with the Bonnie, the 400lb, 398cc Japanese twin used slightly more petrol than the heavier Brit with almost twice the displacement. Although when you consider that the average speed was similar it begins to make sense. Oil consumption, like all the Hondas I've owned, was practically zero between changes - why aren't Yamahas and Suzukis as good?
After a few thousand miles of faultless running, the rear tyre was getting a bit on the thin side, so one of the old style Roadrunners which had fallen off the back of something replaced it. The combination of a TT100 and Avon, which often made other bikes wobble into oblivion, suited the Dream perfectly.
It wasn't exactly Ducati like in the way it held a line through bends but the steering managed to keep the right balance between sensitivity and twitchiness. This orderly behaviour came to an abrupt halt soon after when one of the FVQs lived up to its unofficial name and faded very quickly. In a matter of days it sprewed out its oil (good job they only hold about 0.3cc or it might've made a nasty mess on the swinging arm) and lost damping completely.
A one shock Dream was bad enough in handling precision terms, but when its partner went the same way it turned into a nightmare. It bounced, weaved and rattled so badly over the bumps that I nearly started to believe that MOTs were a worthwhile idea. Sanity returned when I realised that all you had to do was ride slower. As it was impossible to ride fast in this state the conclusion has to be that a bike with worn suspension is actually safer. I rest my case.......and my broken leg.
Servicing was simple. Screw and locknut tappets, set for life electronic ignition, easy camchain adjustment.....what more could you want? All right, I'll tell you. A camchain that lasts longer than 18000 miles, that's what.
Part of the problem was that the tensioner's spring couldn't summon up enough energy to push the blade out to the limit of its travel. A bit of manual assistance (Haynes and fingers) pushed things in the right direction to quell the clatter for a while, but the writing was definitely on the wall for my Hy-vo.
Replacing the chain isn't a huge job. Just drop the engine out, split the crankcases, remove the camshaft and Sochiro's your uncle......it's done in less time than it takes to start an MZ with a fouled spark plug.
It's interesting that when the CB400T replaced the 400 four, which had become a legend in its own launch time, most people were expecting it to be inferior in every way. Having done many thousands of miles on both, I'd say that the F was only better in its engine smoothness and exhaust note. The Dream had more power in all situations and its road performance was far superior. The four only went properly over 7000rpm and needed constant gear changing to keep on the boil.
Great fun for a while but very tiring on long journeys. Quite how the 400/4 gained its reputation for handling, I don't know. If you examine the bike closely both the frame and suspension are very similar to those of the old CB250K or G5 which were a yardstick in mediocrity. Only the weight distribution and riding position seemed any different on the four, so could it really be that much better?
The twins, introduced in 1977, had a more rigid frame, forks, swinging arm and wheels, greater power and torque plus superior cornering clearance: no contest. Probably, what put people off was the association with the L plate 250 version and dumpy styling. Luckily, you can't see it when you're riding it, so the latter aspect can be avoided.
To me, the worst thing about the Dream was the deafening whirring noise it made - the screen on my bike had reflected the racket back at me and added to the problem. Any surviving exhaust sound was completely drowned out and I was almost looking forward to the day when the balancer box rotted away....almost, because I knew that when it did I'd lose about 10hp. That thing really does work!
I had no other problems with the bike before I sold it to get something bigger again, but maybe I was lucky. Electronic ignition failure, along with the usual Honda top end troubles are common.
The 400 Superdream with smoother styling and six speed box plus better brakes is a more sensible buy, I suppose, unless price is the only consideration. Overall, then, a few months of Dreaming left me with the impression that these oft maligned bikes were actually a useful hack in 400cc form....I still hate the 250s though!
R.A.Ker
****************************************************
You learn something new every day, but I never expected to find anyone singing the praises of a CB400T. Just to put the glowing report that appeared in an earlier edition of the UMG in perspective, let me tell you about the most horrible, ugly motorcycle I've ever had the misfortune to own.
Things were bad enough even before the Honda darkened my garage door. Picture the scene: I was sitting in a grotty pub, half drunk on bad beer and in the middle of an epic relationship crisis with my girlfriend. Then in walks Fat Eddie, a distant acquaintance and well known pain in the neck. He caught sight of me despite my best efforts to hide under my leather jacket, wheezed up to us and, oblivious to the fact that both of us were in stinking bad moods, sat down and began one of his rambling hard luck stories.
It seemed he had been laid off from his job at the custard factory and was desperate to sell his bike. In the end I agreed to buy his 1978 400 Dream for a hundred quid, mainly just to get ride of him. Besides, I thought, a 400 can't be bad for that sort of money, an economical twin with a bit of poke would be useful for short trips. I imagined that I might even make a profit on the thing. Little did I know....
The next evening I'd almost forgotten about Eddie and his problems, when he chugged up on the Honda, all smiles, reminding me of my foolishness. The bike didn't look too bad from a distance, had all its document and the engine sounded alright, so the deal was closed with one of Eddie's clammy handshakes. He even left me his helmet, which smelt so unhygienic that I threw it in the bin. I should have dumped the Honda in there while I was about it.
I was too busy to pay any attention to the bike for the next two months and the Honda sat in the garage meanwhile, doing nothing much. Then one awful day I smacked my Katana into a minibus, and the 400 became my sole form of transport. The CB400T, also called the Dream, had 42000 miles on the clock and according to the logbook had been owned by twelve people in its 13 years.
In the cold light of day, the Honda was a sight to make your eyes sore. It had bulbous, bulging styling that made it look as squat as a toad. The lumpy image was reinforced by hideous Comstar wheels. A sidepanel was missing, revealing a spaghetti like mess of wiring and the most ghastly Motad exhaust system I'd ever seen jutted out from the back at a crazy angle. I couldn't believe I'd bought the thing, but it started okay on a freshly charged battery, so off I went on a test ride.
The bike chugged along well enough, and there were no obvious steering problems but it smoked a bit under acceleration. On a straight stretch I thought I'd open it up to see what it would do and twisting back the throttle to the stop....hang on, it was already there. It was true, I was flat out already at 70mph. The engine sounded a bit clattery but by no means straining, so I took it back for a full service.
This was where the horrors began. I went to drain the oil and was stunned to find no sump nut. My mouth hung open in appalled disbelief as I discovered that there wasn't one; the nut was missing and the hole had been plugged with chemical metal. I managed to remove some of the old oil with a plastic tube and a bicycle pump, but as it was I needn't have bothered. During the next week oil leaks developed around the base gasket, tacho drive and gearbox, so that as the old oil dribbled out I could replace it with new stuff. A gasket set costs a fortune for this old model, so after a while I took a leaf out of Eddie's book and filled the leaks from the outside with chemical metal. It pretty much worked, too!
Most of the remaining threads were knackered, including the ones holding the brake caliper to the forks and the screws giving access to the brake fluid reservoir, all of which were either frozen solid or went round and round all the time. I also couldn't get the front wheel off since the thread had gone on the spindle nut. Servicing the front disc thus was impossible, and it's not surprising that the brake was so spongy. On the other hand, once cleaned the rear drum was very responsive.
Next, I checked the carbs. The float bowls were full of a reddish sludge, perhaps the legacy of some abortive experiment with Redex. The jets matched, but both were distorted from being screwed in too tightly. Most of the parts for the Dream are to be found on the more common Superdream, so I fitted used jets from that. I peeked in the exhaust ports while I was painting the exhaust black and the whole show looked full of coke deposits (no stupid, not the sort that goes up your nose!).
I didn't have the patience to strip and clean the cylinder head myself, and had it done in a garage for a very reasonable forty quid. Now the bike would struggle up to 85mph, but the chassis didn't feel very safe and cornering was precarious. New shocks, tyres and steering head bearings might have cured this but there was no way I was going to spend more cash on the thing. Acceleration was dreadful - it sort of gradually built up to its top speed over about a minute. The bike had nothing going for it, unless you wanted a sort of grown up Yamaha Townmate with inferior handling, looks and economy.
I used the bike for 3000 miles and it gradually became more and more disgusting to look at. The oil leaks attracted dirt, the tank was rusting under the badges and the mudguards had leprosy. In fact, the whole bike had an irreversible wasting disease. The seat cover had been recovered with leather, which sounds good except that it wasn't waterproof, soaking the copious foam padding beneath it and giving me a wet bum every time I rode it. Short of wearing waterproof trousers even in blazing sunshine, I put up with the discomfort manfully.
But, my hatred of the Honda was growing. It comes to something when you go out in the morning and have to get on a machine you utterly despise. I had two breakdowns, a snapped throttle and a problem with the cush drive, neither too serious, but I saw it all as part of a conspiracy hatched by the Honda to try my patience. My friends gradually stopped asking me out on runs because they were embarrassed to be seen with the Dream. Even my girlfriend wouldn't go pillion and I became the butt of jokes. Kids would laugh as I chugged past, my mates would vanish into the distance whilst I was left with nothing to do but hold the throttle fully open and recite the famous liturgy so well known to all Dream pilots: Here all day I sit and ponder, Why the hell do I ride a bloody Honda?
Only when the Katana was finally and expensively fixed could I sell the Dream. I advertised it for fifty quid since it only had three weeks MOT left and I couldn't see any way it would ever get through. It was bought for spares in the end, and I was so delighted to see it go that I spent the money on a party!
When I'm in an optimistic mood, I can imagine that under the right circumstances a CB400T might be a reasonable bike. There was no question that my bike had been terribly maintained by at least one of its previous owners, if not all twelve. I hated the looks of the thing and so did everyone I know, but some people might possibly regard the styling as classic. If the bike really can do over the ton, then it might even be quite versatile. But my advice is to stay well clear. Or buy a Townmate instead.
S.King
Things were bad enough even before the Honda darkened my garage door. Picture the scene: I was sitting in a grotty pub, half drunk on bad beer and in the middle of an epic relationship crisis with my girlfriend. Then in walks Fat Eddie, a distant acquaintance and well known pain in the neck. He caught sight of me despite my best efforts to hide under my leather jacket, wheezed up to us and, oblivious to the fact that both of us were in stinking bad moods, sat down and began one of his rambling hard luck stories.
It seemed he had been laid off from his job at the custard factory and was desperate to sell his bike. In the end I agreed to buy his 1978 400 Dream for a hundred quid, mainly just to get ride of him. Besides, I thought, a 400 can't be bad for that sort of money, an economical twin with a bit of poke would be useful for short trips. I imagined that I might even make a profit on the thing. Little did I know....
The next evening I'd almost forgotten about Eddie and his problems, when he chugged up on the Honda, all smiles, reminding me of my foolishness. The bike didn't look too bad from a distance, had all its document and the engine sounded alright, so the deal was closed with one of Eddie's clammy handshakes. He even left me his helmet, which smelt so unhygienic that I threw it in the bin. I should have dumped the Honda in there while I was about it.
I was too busy to pay any attention to the bike for the next two months and the Honda sat in the garage meanwhile, doing nothing much. Then one awful day I smacked my Katana into a minibus, and the 400 became my sole form of transport. The CB400T, also called the Dream, had 42000 miles on the clock and according to the logbook had been owned by twelve people in its 13 years.
In the cold light of day, the Honda was a sight to make your eyes sore. It had bulbous, bulging styling that made it look as squat as a toad. The lumpy image was reinforced by hideous Comstar wheels. A sidepanel was missing, revealing a spaghetti like mess of wiring and the most ghastly Motad exhaust system I'd ever seen jutted out from the back at a crazy angle. I couldn't believe I'd bought the thing, but it started okay on a freshly charged battery, so off I went on a test ride.
The bike chugged along well enough, and there were no obvious steering problems but it smoked a bit under acceleration. On a straight stretch I thought I'd open it up to see what it would do and twisting back the throttle to the stop....hang on, it was already there. It was true, I was flat out already at 70mph. The engine sounded a bit clattery but by no means straining, so I took it back for a full service.
This was where the horrors began. I went to drain the oil and was stunned to find no sump nut. My mouth hung open in appalled disbelief as I discovered that there wasn't one; the nut was missing and the hole had been plugged with chemical metal. I managed to remove some of the old oil with a plastic tube and a bicycle pump, but as it was I needn't have bothered. During the next week oil leaks developed around the base gasket, tacho drive and gearbox, so that as the old oil dribbled out I could replace it with new stuff. A gasket set costs a fortune for this old model, so after a while I took a leaf out of Eddie's book and filled the leaks from the outside with chemical metal. It pretty much worked, too!
Most of the remaining threads were knackered, including the ones holding the brake caliper to the forks and the screws giving access to the brake fluid reservoir, all of which were either frozen solid or went round and round all the time. I also couldn't get the front wheel off since the thread had gone on the spindle nut. Servicing the front disc thus was impossible, and it's not surprising that the brake was so spongy. On the other hand, once cleaned the rear drum was very responsive.
Next, I checked the carbs. The float bowls were full of a reddish sludge, perhaps the legacy of some abortive experiment with Redex. The jets matched, but both were distorted from being screwed in too tightly. Most of the parts for the Dream are to be found on the more common Superdream, so I fitted used jets from that. I peeked in the exhaust ports while I was painting the exhaust black and the whole show looked full of coke deposits (no stupid, not the sort that goes up your nose!).
I didn't have the patience to strip and clean the cylinder head myself, and had it done in a garage for a very reasonable forty quid. Now the bike would struggle up to 85mph, but the chassis didn't feel very safe and cornering was precarious. New shocks, tyres and steering head bearings might have cured this but there was no way I was going to spend more cash on the thing. Acceleration was dreadful - it sort of gradually built up to its top speed over about a minute. The bike had nothing going for it, unless you wanted a sort of grown up Yamaha Townmate with inferior handling, looks and economy.
I used the bike for 3000 miles and it gradually became more and more disgusting to look at. The oil leaks attracted dirt, the tank was rusting under the badges and the mudguards had leprosy. In fact, the whole bike had an irreversible wasting disease. The seat cover had been recovered with leather, which sounds good except that it wasn't waterproof, soaking the copious foam padding beneath it and giving me a wet bum every time I rode it. Short of wearing waterproof trousers even in blazing sunshine, I put up with the discomfort manfully.
But, my hatred of the Honda was growing. It comes to something when you go out in the morning and have to get on a machine you utterly despise. I had two breakdowns, a snapped throttle and a problem with the cush drive, neither too serious, but I saw it all as part of a conspiracy hatched by the Honda to try my patience. My friends gradually stopped asking me out on runs because they were embarrassed to be seen with the Dream. Even my girlfriend wouldn't go pillion and I became the butt of jokes. Kids would laugh as I chugged past, my mates would vanish into the distance whilst I was left with nothing to do but hold the throttle fully open and recite the famous liturgy so well known to all Dream pilots: Here all day I sit and ponder, Why the hell do I ride a bloody Honda?
Only when the Katana was finally and expensively fixed could I sell the Dream. I advertised it for fifty quid since it only had three weeks MOT left and I couldn't see any way it would ever get through. It was bought for spares in the end, and I was so delighted to see it go that I spent the money on a party!
When I'm in an optimistic mood, I can imagine that under the right circumstances a CB400T might be a reasonable bike. There was no question that my bike had been terribly maintained by at least one of its previous owners, if not all twelve. I hated the looks of the thing and so did everyone I know, but some people might possibly regard the styling as classic. If the bike really can do over the ton, then it might even be quite versatile. But my advice is to stay well clear. Or buy a Townmate instead.
S.King