Honda VT600C

I was waiting for something to ground out or some other quaint manisfestation of typical chop behaviour. Honda's Shadow looks quite cute in its way but hardly up to Harley standards and I suspected that its handling would go the way of the American monsters. But the VT appeared to track well through the country bends and refused to shake its head even when the softly, softly front forks whacked a large bump on the exit from the bend. It did bounce off line slightly but no more than many a conventional motorcycle.

It was my mate's bike, he had taken me out of town on the pillion so I could have a test ride without worrying about crazed cagers or the attentions of the plod. I didn't fall it love with the bike at first sight but I knew that it was a genuine 3000 miler, less than a year old and in excellent condition. At £2500 it seemed like a bargain compared to some of the near wrecks I'd seen for similar money. If I didn't get on with the machine I could always sell it on without taking a loss.

I was as impressed by the handling as I was by the motor. Based on the evergreen VT vee twin mill, with its watercooling and three valve heads, in Shadow form it was radically detuned to slightly less than 40 horses and fitted with a mere four speed box. The gearing is tall, the torque plentiful and the ride thus so relaxing I could almost fall alseep at the controls, were it not for the gently intrusive beat out of the two short mufflers.

The finish was still excellent, I could find no bargaining points so was forced to hand over the full 2500 notes. My mate needed the money to get married, the last I heard he was pottering to work on a C90. I changed the VT's oil, put on a set of proper tyres and gave the O-ring chain a wipe over with an oil saturated rag. Ready to rock and roll.

I had already noted that the pillion perch was rather cramped and my large lady friend was not too amused to find herself spread-eagled upon it, but by the time she started to complain we were 50 miles down the road on a 1000 mile weekend blast to get acclimatized with the Shadow. My own perch was most comfy, the high, wide bars being the most obvious limitation on cruising speed. 70mph was the most I could take for any length of time, although the motor was smooth up to 80mph and under favourable conditions could put 95mph on the clock.

The barn door aerodynamics were evident in the fuel consumption, which loitered around 50mpg, and the need to rapidly change down from fourth when battling against a headwind if some fast overtaking became necessary. Techniques developed on an ancient CD185 were often useful in extracting a decent turn of speed out of the reluctant Shadow.

Not a fast bike, then, but an enjoyable one despite that. A lot of the pleasure came from the feeling of security from the chassis. Most of that from the extremely long wheelbase and low centre of gravity. With a mere 27" seat height I initially felt like I was growling along dangerously close to the tarmac......a more chronic problem was that I usually could not see over the tops of cars to observe what was going down up ahead. Combined with the lack of go above 70mph that often left me playing chicken with oncoming traffic.

On that first long trip another problem reared its ugly head. Because of the nature of the bike I ignored the charms of the main carriageways and took to the minor roads where the character of the Honda could shine through. Which was fine until the fuel ran out. The tank holds less than two gallons, which means you have to start looking for a fill-up every 70 miles. A bit ridiculous on a machine that I felt would go three times that distance in comfort. The girlfriend was less than amused at having to help push the Honda three miles. That wasn't the last time that I ran out of fuel, either.

Town work could be tricky, too. The VT was narrow enough to sneak between rows of cars but its length didn't encourage rapid ninety degree turns through stalled traffic. A couple of times the engine also stalled dead for no apparent reason but a quick caress of the starter button saved my skin. For most of the time the engine could be dumped in second gear, the throttle used to both accelerate and slow down the bike as there was a useful amount of engine braking.

Not that the clutch nor gearbox were nasty, they were amazingly good for a Honda, although by its very nature the ratios were quite widely spaced. Only when the O-ring chain went out of adjustment was the change less than smooth and precise. The chain, despite the excessively long swinging arm, only needed a tweak on the adjusters every 500 miles or so. With over 9000 miles on the clock it's about two thirds through its life.

The front brake pads, though, are almost down to the metal. I was not too impressed with the single disc in the early days, there seemed a lot of mush and not much braking power. I soon learnt that taking a forceful pull on the lever and using the rear drum as backup produced fast retardation. The disc is looking thinner than it should and I'm not that happy using the brake in the wet. It's not so much wet weather lag as a lack of feedback. Squealing the skinny front tyre on greasy roads is not the way to a long and happy life. The rear drum shoes are about half worn out.

Apart from 2000 mile oil changes and one valve check at 5000 miles (they were all okay, but difficult to get at) I haven't done anything to the engine. I couldn't believe that Honda had fitted twin carbs in the minimal space between the 52 degree vee, but they have stayed in balance. The VT has proved itself reliable and long lived in other models, in this detuned form there's little reason why it won't go around the clock at least once.

I almost went around the bend the first time I rode in the dark, or rather right off it. The marginal front headlamp (main beam is adequate for 50mph cruising, dip isn't) blew just as I was lining the Shadow up. The VT's long wheelbase meant that although the bike is stable it does like to be set up on its line in advance and will only suddenly change direction if shoulder dislocating muscle is applied to the bars.

When the light blew I had to guess where the road was going until I hit the dip switch. When the road was illuminated again, I was heading straight for a hedge on the wrong side of the road. Much to my amazement I managed to jerk the bike over and miss the hedge by a few inches. The Honda is usually neutral in bends, so I knew that all I had to do was scrape out a bit of tarmac with the sidestand prong. There are a lot of more conventional bikes that would've throw me off under that kind of treatment, so all the more credit to the custom Honda.

The bulb has blown three times since I've had the bike. The battery can also boil off half its acid on a long trip. The first I knew of this malignant trait was when the Shadow refused to start one morning. It proved impossible to bump. Even after I poured in some distilled water, the battery was very reluctant to hold a charge. A new battery worked fine, but I have to keep an eye on its acid level. Seems a bit too early in its life for such problems.

That aside, I've had an easy time with the Honda. It starts quickly, chugs along nicely and still looks beautiful. Of course, if you want something fearsomely fast this kind of bike is a complete waste of time and it doesn't have the instant credibility of a Harley. But, I don't care, I think my Shadow's great and want to keep it for a decade or so. Why not?

M.F.

Honda VT250

What kind of madness causes a person to buy a rat VT250 with over 41000 miles on the clock? My only excuse was that it was very cheap (£275). The 1986 machine was then a mere five years old and in one hell of a cosmetic mess. Judging by the way the original engine screws had corroded into the cases, I could well believe the owner when he insisted that the motor had never been touched!

Despite its appearance, my brief test ride on the pillion revealed plenty of go and not too many vibes through the pegs. He would not let me have a test ride but agreed to ride the bike to my house - I waited until we got there to hand the money over, there was always the chance that the engine might explode en route. I decided that a thorough clean up was necessary before risking life and limb on the open road.

The oil drain plug was Araldited in and only came out after some vicious and violent attention from the hammer and chisel. What little oil was in the engine was so sludge-like that it took half an hour to drain out. The only way that the plug could be fixed back in was with - you guessed it - Araldite.

After removing half a decade's worth of crud, I managed to get at the top end of the watercooled vee-twin. Despite only having two pistons, all the plumbing makes the engine appear fearsomely complex. Probably why the valve clearances were way out, no-one had had the guts to check them before. Pitted cams made setting the clearances difficult. Ignition and camchains were maintenance free, so that just left the twin carbs to balance, no easy matter as they appeared worn out.

The chassis turned out to need even more attention. The Pro-Link bushes were oval, the fork seals shot and all the consumables in need of immediate replacement. The local breaker was kind enough to sell me most of the bits for next to nothing, although he refused to put the tyres on - what a f..king job! Honda wanted a minor fortune for a set of Pro-Link bushes so the old man was persuaded to give over his engineering works to their production - the recession was such that he didn't have much else to do.

This all took nearly a month to do, along with cleaning up the cycle parts and applying the odd bit of paint. I could have just swung a leg over the bike and ridden it into the ground for a few months, but I have been around long enough not to actively enjoy being thrown off motorcycles due to engine or chassis failure. I had time on my hands and the total cost of regeneration was nicely minimal.

First ride was a bit disappointing. Power was minimal and the chassis was very twitchy. The brakes were wooden and the gearbox full of false neutrals. The second ride was better. More air in the tyres helped and 7000 revs finally found some energetic acceleration. Back home, oil was seeping out of the cylinder gaskets and the exhaust was backfiring, one of the silencers had suddenly developed large holes. Tin sheet and Jubilee clips time.

Serious riding followed, a long weekend of back road hustling. I'm a bit old to need to keep the throttle to the stop and play with the gear lever all the time, but once I'd got the hang of the handling - the bars needed a bit of excessive muscle when entering corners - I could make good time down my favourite roads. Top speed wasn't much more than 90mph; on a bumpy road with slightly soggy suspension, the bike felt like it was about to throw me off, so I probably would not have gone any faster.

The first fuel stop indicated that it was doing little more than 40mpg - such poor fuel economy revealing the true state of the motor. Despite that, I was in a pretty good mood. It didn't last long, the muted growl of the vee-twin on cam suddenly turned into a dirge that threatened to shatter windows. A silencer had fallen off and disintegrated as soon as it hit the road. The engine refused to run below 8000rpm and by the time I hit a city with a motorcycle shop the clutch plates were turning molten. A pair of cheap megaphones solved the problem, albeit causing a flat spot between 3500 and 5250rpm. No great loss as there was sod all power there.

As I became used to the bike I started taking liberties with its handling. The main worry was the way the undercarriage would suddenly dig into the tarmac threatening to flip the bike right off the road. Handling was made even stranger by the odd bit of oil hitting the rear tyre. Like riding on ice, only the low mass of around 350lbs allowed me to wrench the bike away from disaster.

I was quite pleased to get back home after 700 miles of weekend hustling.....the seat quickly flattened out, mixing road bumps with a slight buzz from the vee twin engine; a combination that left me all shook up.

The next few thousand miles went by without too many incidents. I was not too amused to find that the newish rear Metz was worn out after a mere 4000 miles nor the way the calipers liked to seize up, but on a cheapo hack hassles are usually the order of the day.

With 46000 miles done, some fierce knocking noises came up from the top end. I had been doing 1000 mile oil changes and valve adjustments - the cams were looking pretty knackered so I guessed they were on the way out. Rode another 500 miles until camchain rattle added to the frenzy and the speedo resolutely refused to budge beyond 70mph. Nothing for it but to tear the motor apart.

Just about everything inside the engine cases was way beyond reclamation.....only the crankshaft bearings were in good nick. Two hundred quid to a breaker bought a 52000 mile motor but I'd heard it running and there were minimal rattles. This went into the frame after a great struggle but refused to start. Half the street were coerced into giving the bugger a push and after about a quarter of a mile it thundered into life.

Immediately spoilt its copy-book by tearing up the street on full throttle - I'd snagged the cable leaving the damn engine at 12000 revs until I'd hit the ignition switch. This engine ran fine, would put 95mph on the clock, but burned the engine oil at a terrifying rate. Not realising this at first, I almost ran the crankcases dry after a 300 mile run involving a race with a Z750 twin (yes, quite!).

The engine didn't seem to mind until nearly 3000 miles later when the box kept slipping out of gear. I'd be screaming along at 10,000 revs in third or fourth, suddenly finding the engine plunged into a false neutral with the tacho needle bouncing on its stop. The box would then take a dozen or so frantic stamps before it engaged. On several occasions I was stranded during an overtaking manoeuvre, surviving only by sheer luck!

About a week of this madness was all I could take. Ripped the engine out and used the bits from the other motor to replace worn selectors and cogs with teeth missing. The replacements made the box very tight indeed, especially changing up from fourth, but it was a lot better than having to suffer sudden plunges into false neutrals. The rear chain, for some reason, hardly ever needed any adjustment.

Another 1000 miles went by until the smog out of the exhaust became too heavy to ignore. Most of it was down to the rear cylinder, so I tore that off to find that the oil ring was naff. Took half a day to tear it out of the piston. There were interesting score marks in the piston and bore but I ignored them and whacked in a new ring. I used the old gaskets in the reassembly.

The motor was reluctant to fire up but eventually gave into my persistence. Massive oil leaks compensated for the lack of oil being burnt out of the engine - it was dead easy to empty the sump after 150 miles of hard riding. Not that the heap was willing to rev much past 8500rpm.

When the bearings in the Pro-Link started rattling again I decided that it was time to get rid of the VT whilst there was something still saleable. But not before the bike had been flung into a desperate 400 mile round trip. I had little time, so the bike was thrashed all the way, rarely with less than 70mph on the clock.... fuel hovered around 35mpg and the buzz sent both my feet dead by the time I got back home.

I was quite impressed by the fact that it didn't break down. A newish VT would probably be a neat bike, but once they get over 30,000 miles there are so many things that can go wrong with their complex engines that they are not viable as anything other than cheapo hacks.

After that trip, the coolant kept boiling after as little as 20 miles of riding and the spark plugs kept fouling up as the oil rings seemed to have gone again. The gearbox also started slipping out of gear again. I phoned around a couple of dealers, found one who was interested in buying the VT. Gave the bike a good polish, rode gently to the shop and left the engine running (it often needed two minutes on the starter even when hot).

The dealer went for a ride, came back complaining about the way the bike pulled to the left (I'd never noticed it) and that the engine felt like it was about to seize up. I thought he was going to offer me fifty quid, so when he suggested £250 I grabbed it with both hands before he had a chance to change his mind. Came by the shop a week later to find that the VT had been clocked back to 8000 miles and was sporting an £850 price tag. A few days later the bike was no longer in the showroom......I made a mental note not to buy any bikes from that dealer in the future.

Gary Browning

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Whilst all the attention has recently been on Honda and Suzuki's new 1000cc vee-fours, the former has long had a sporting vee-twin in their range. Okay, it's only 250cc and the UK's VT250 was never quite inspiring, but one look at a grey import 1989 Honda VT250 Spada convinced me that it was the business. It had all the edge of their bigger bikes without any of their silliness.

The engine's a similar 90 degree vee twin to the earlier VT250. The biggest difference is that the Spada makes lots more power. 40 horses at 12000 revs! That's obviously good. The bike also weighs a mere 320lbs, feels very compact and easy to throw around. It needs a good work out on the throttle to really shift, but there is a modicum of torque below eight grand, revs at which there's the first surge of real power.

Incidentally, my particular bike ran very lean, was nervous as a cat amongst a pack of dogs for the first ten minutes. The watercooled motor needed time to warm up, and given Honda's sometimes dicey cylinder head designs I had no intention of cowing it into submission by taking the throttle to fifteen grand.

One of the advantages of a lack of cubes was smoothness, even with the throttle to the stop there wasn't any hint of vibration or torque reaction. Quite right, too, at this kind of capacity with a ninety degree vee twin it should be ultra smooth. I came across another Spada owner who was most disenchanted with his machine. We swapped over, he not believing the smoothness and speed of my bike.

His felt like an old dog. Even the handling was naff. Crashed and clocked was my prognosis. Sure enough, he'd bought the bike from a notorious south London dealer, who had a bit of a reputation for hitting customers who complained! He was almost in tears as until then he'd been blaming Honda for a bad design rather than the dealer for malpractice! It's worth getting to know the good grey importers and having an idea how a machine should perform.

The handling of the Spada was close to brilliant. It was both easy to chuck around and nicely stable. The only weak point was that the suspension was marginal. Okay for my nine stones (yes, I know, wimp, but I'm only nineteen) but as soon as the lightest of girls was placed lovingly on the rather minimal pillion perch (brought a bit of colour to their cheeks every time!), the suspension turned to mush. This was Japanese spec stuff, set up for a cushy ride through town. Even with the suspension creaking away on its stops the bike was far from suicidal and could be pushed to the edge of the rather brittle Japlops.

Have you priced mono-shocks of late? Whilst it's possible to buy two old style shocks for around fifty quid, the cheapest mono-shock retails for more than 200 notes. Absurd. Even breakers quoted me a hundred quid for something that might or might not work better than the one I currently had installed. I made do with some heavy-duty springs for the front forks, which added an element of unknown precision to that end.

The bike had 19000km on the clock when I bought it for £1600. General condition was excellent, just the odd patch of alloy corrosion, though the tyres were down to 3mm and the chain had seen better days. The latter did whip around a bit at low revs and contributed to the typical Honda gearchange - they should definitely do some head-hunting over at Suzuki, if they want to get a precise, smooth change. On occasion I managed to bang the box into a false neutral, the rev counter going off the scale (the rev limiter had been disabled), the poor old mill wailing away like it was dive bombing into an early grave.

A new chain and sprocket set went down very well, a dramatic improvement in the slickness of the gearchange. In London I was able to do battle with any number of bigger bikes, the narrowness of the Honda allowing me to scream through the dense traffic at unholy velocities. The front disc brake could be relentlessly hammered when some dumb animal in a cage forgot himself. The brakes being immensely powerful and the bike almost as light as a 125. So much so that it was dead easy to do a stoppie, and I almost had a complete endo wipe-out several times. The way the rubber squeals causes ped's to go into heart attack mode and gets the cops running around in circles in sheer anger.

On the motorway, I could put 115mph on the clock, as long as I got my head down. The nakedness of the bike meant an upright posture resulted in a refusal to go above the ton, although it would hold that speed for cruising. The bike wasn't a sitting target for bored cagers, could keep up with the general flow of motorway traffic. It would even speed ahead if I got down to it, though I was often blasted off the road by some rich bastard in a Merc or Jag. Tossers!

The weak rear shock let the bike go into a gentle wallow in 90mph curves but the little nutcase was basically stable even if it sported a short, 54 inch wheelbase. Good weight distribution, I'd guess. Over on the edge of the tyres it felt a bit frail, but as the rubber was almost bald this was to be expected. A nice new set of Metz's finest would doubtless transform the beast but I have to make my tyres last.

Fuel was cheap at 60mpg, as was road tax. Insurance was a ridiculous £400, some companies wouldn't even give me a quote, despite two years accident-free riding. Many near scrapes but still a major achievement the way I ride. I know a lot of kids who ride without insurance because they just can't afford it. They end up having death races with the plod. Sometimes they win, sometimes they end up in hospital or worse!

Having just emerged from one of our wonderful winters, the Spada's finish isn't exactly intact. Lots of surface corrosion, a rather loud exhaust and a pair of wheels that show every inclination towards dissolving. So much for Honda's famed build quality but I don't suppose they design bikes to last for much more than half a decade.

Overall, the Spada's a brilliant bit of kit, ideally suited to UK traffic conditions. For sure I'd like the massive grunt of a litre vee-twin but it'd be a quick way of getting myself killed or arrested and I could never afford the insurance. The little Honda's a touch more sensible without ever being close to boring.

Alan Sears

 

Honda VT500

I bought an ex-despatch Honda VT500. The 80,000 miles on the clock had to be placed against the £200 price tag. Yes, it was a bit of a wreck and far from standard, but the engine rattled away merrily enough and my short burst up the crowded town centre revealed that after a CB125T it had loads of acceleration.

The front end was from a CB400 Superdream, Comstar wheel, exposed disc and all. The back wheel was standard but the enclosed disc had not worked for the last 20,000 miles. The engine was covered in the white corrosion indicative of cheapo aluminium alloy. The mudguards, switches, lights and seat were off some unidentified machine, or machines, the tank was a mess of dents and rust.

The engine made a loud barking noise through the home-made 2-1, had a dreadful backfire on the overrun and a clicking noise from the back cylinder head of the watercooled vee twin engine. Either the exhaust was so raucous at high revs that you couldn't hear it or the noise went away when I twisted open the throttle.I perched myself, comfortably enough, on this rolling wreck, a full tank of fuel thrown in, hopefully enough to see me the 125 miles home.

It came with a huge rack and top box, one of those wide and ugly handlebar fairings that actually protect hands from rain and cold, together with cow horn handlebars that didn't really suit the standard position of the foot-pegs, but, shit, that was the least of my worries.

All the reports I've read on the VT seem to indicate that when newish it's a pretty stable bike upon which to hurtle across the countryside. 80,000 miles had evidently not been kind to the suspension, although the Superdream forks may have done even more than that and could well be longer, shorter or weaker than the stock units they replace.

The huge handlebar fairing couldn't help matters, but even so I was rather disconcerted by the magnitude of the weaves that appeared once past 50mph. I mean, there was I with 20 miles of the journey done, just exiting the sprawling suburbs on to a nice piece of A road trickery that I would have done flat out on the CB125T, opening up the throttle in top gear, greeted with a gratifying noise and a reasonable amount of grunt, when the bike starts weaving and wallowing like someone had removed the swinging arm spindle.

It was so bad that I quickly pulled over, kicked the tyres, shook the swinging arm and jerked the forks. No real play there. I remounted my pride and joy, and tried for a bit of speed again. Same problem, up to 50mph runs like it's on rails, beyond that wobble, weave, wobble.....oh my god, it's going to go through the hedge, I'm running out of space, slam on the brakes, down below 50mph stability returns.

A very frustrating ride home followed. I could feel the engine wanting to urge the machine forward, I could all but taste the joy of exceeding the ton, the roads were mostly deserted, ideal biking territory, but I had to sit there like an idiot, grinding my teeth and making damn sure it didn't do more than 50mph.

To cut a long story short, removal of the fairing and top box, fitment of a set of Michelins and flat bars, bumping up the suspension to maximum and accelerating through the few remaining bad patches (at 75 and 90mph) sort of solved the handling problems. It was never totally stable at speed, it always liked to dance the back wheel a little, but I soon became used to the slight queasiness of the chassis to the extent that my forward velocity was limited not by the chassis but the thought that the engine was surely due to explode.

And that, friends, is the really remarkable thing about the 32000 miles I managed to add to the VT's clock, the engine just ran and ran like clockwork. Its only sign of great mileage was the need to add a pint of oil every 250 miles. The clicking noise never went away but it got no worse, a slight oil leak on the front cylinder head stayed slight and the only work I did on the motor was a full service every 1000 miles.

By the time 112,000 miles were up the engine was still running okay, although it was a rare day that I could get more than a ton on the clock, but the gearbox was in a bad state. It was never exactly precise when I got my grubby hands upon it, by the time I sold the bike (for £300, by the way) only second, third and fifth gears could be relied upon, the others either slipped out of gear at embarrassing moments or were next to impossible to engage. The real neutral was also an elusive agent, but the plentitude of false neutrals meant that it was no great hardship.

Taking off in second gear, even up a hill, two up, proved no great hardship, for the vee twin motor was true to its type, producing lots of useable low speed torque, as well as being quite willing to be hammered to the redline in second and third. Fifth gear was a bit too buzzy for my liking but as there was no easy way to change the gearing I had to learn to live with it. I tended to stick it in fifth as soon as possible and just roll the throttle on and off as occasion demanded, giving a speed range of 35 to 100mph.

This was a far better idea than wrestling with the intransigent gearchange action. The clutch had been uprated by the previous owner, fitted with stronger springs and newish plates it performed magnificently - everyone told me that the clutch would fail as it's a common fault with VT's, but mine was okay, its only problem a bit of drag on cold mornings and in excessive town riding.

The combination of rat bike appearance and my disregard for safety of life and limb meant that the VT was often ridden in a dangerous and violent manner. Many were the times car drivers were disconcerted to find themselves cut up and burnt off by what must have appeared an ancient wreck piloted by a refuge from Charring Cross arches - I quickly found out that the VT tended to spray a light coating of oil over trousers and a heavy coating of road muck over jackets, so dressed in my oldest clothes which I never bothered to clean.

I was quite often stopped by the police but they found, much to their surpise, that the bike was even taxed......an acquaintance rides around on a new looking CBR600F1 without road tax or insurance but has never been stopped.....if you own a rat bike you will soon find that you need to be legal as the cops pick on you something chronic.

Without a back brake the bike shouldn't have passed an MOT but I've been going to the same backstreet dealer for the last ten years and didn't have any problems.

I fell off the bike twice and whacked a car once. The first time I fell off was my own fault, I misjudged my entry speed to a corner by about 15mph, locked up the front wheel, skidded on some gravel as the bike careered on to the edge of the road and slid off gracefully. Flesh was torn to a much greater extent than machinery was battered, a few kicks and tugs soon had the VT rideable.

The second crash was even more disconcerting, the dreaded diesel slick took the front wheel out from under the bike before I knew what was happening. The bike bounced off my leg, righted itself, stood for a moment and then went crashing down on its other side. I quickly hobbled up out of the traffic flow and was amazed to find that the bike was undamaged, or at least no more damaged than it had been before the crash. My leg was badly bruised and didn't take kindly to being contorted into the normal riding position for the 55 mile jaunt home.

I was equally surprised to find I hadn't bent the forks when some Herbert decided to suddenly change lanes when I was filtering between two lines of cars. He must have been deaf as well as blind, as I was revving the motor in second gear and I could see car drivers giving me the finger in my mirrors. I did have to pay out good money to straighten the Comstar, it was so slightly buckled that I did not notice at the time and had agreed with the car driver not to bother with the insurance companies. However, as soon as I opened the bike up the weaves came back with a vengeance - I was not too impressed when I put the repaired wheel back on to find that the wobbles were still present, some joker had put 40psi in the front tyre!

A set of tyres did 9 to 10,000 miles, fuel went down at between 35 and 40mpg, whilst the disc pads lasted only 5000 miles, perhaps because there was no rear brake back up to the front. Not a very cheap beast to run, admittedly, but the reliability of the motor more than made up for that.

I had hoped to get ten to fifteen thousand miles out of the bike and then sell the thing to a breaker for a hundred notes. Instead, I was very impressed with its toughness and reckon short of dropping them off the side of a cliff they'll keep on running. I've just bought a two year old with 11000 miles up, and that says it all!

Martin Price

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The clutch went at 32000 miles, the first time I had any trouble from the watercooled vee-twin engine. Clutch slip soon became a high level of juddering, the shaft drive churning away in an suicidal way. I made it back to the house without doing too much damage. My cousin had borrowed the bike for a week and I suspected that he was a wheelie junkie. The plates were worn and warped but easy enough to replace.

I'd a few chassis problems before the motor gave any trouble. Not any real design faults, just some cager trying to kill me. He didn't succeed but managed to turn the front wheel into a piece of modern sculpture and break the front forks off just below the yokes. That I survived without injury was a minor miracle. CB900 forks and front wheel were forced on, an added benefit of replacing the rotten enclosed disc front brake (it worked but made maintenance chores nigh on impossible).

The CB900 forks weren't new but whatever wear they'd suffered didn't trouble the relatively low mass of the VT. Braking hard threatened to throw me over the bars and knocked my balls on the tank. The rear drum was always a useful back up and all I really needed in town. Pads in the original set-up lasted 9000 miles, in the CB900 front end about 12000 miles. Rear shoes went for over 15000 miles.

The rest of the chassis was robust, even after more than a 100,000 miles of abuse. The paint faded rather than fell off. The steering head bearings went at 57000 miles and the back wheel bearings at 63000 miles, but there was plenty of warning from the handling so both were fixed without leaving me stranded in the middle of nowhere.

For a while I ran the VT with a big RT-type fairing. This was good in the winter when my whole body was protected from the wind and rain. The only problem was that the massive mass out front made the bike handle very weirdly and on slippery roads the front wheel would skid away so fast that I was tasting tarmac before I knew what'd happened.

I stuck with it for one winter thereafter made do with a large handlebar fairing that fully protected my hands and upper body. This was fine up to 50mph, but higher speeds had the heavy mass attached to the bars yearning for self destruction via the well known, underpant staining, lock to lock speed wobble. This fast exit from reality was rigorously avoided by moi by the simple expedient of riding slowly in winter and taking the fairing off for the rest of the year.

The vee-twin motor ain't really about power, pushing out a mere 50 horses at 9000rpm, but lays down useful torque between 3000 and 8000 revs, although it's never the gut churning stuff of cruiser dreams of a big Harley - a hell of a lot better, though, than a CB400 Superdream.

Top speed's all of 115mph under favourable conditions, even if the machine gives the impression of starting a rebellion every time the speedo goes near the ton. In the early days it'd cruise at 90mph with all the ease of a BMW, but after about 65000 miles it'd only repeat that trick at 80mph. Similarly, fuel's gone from a reasonable 55-60mpg to a diabolical 40mpg, along with half a sump worth's of oil being burnt off between 1000 mile changes.

Maintenance chores, oil aside, have always been minimal, the valves and carbs done every 10,000 miles, the rest of the stuff looking after itself. It may've been neglect of regular valve adjustment that led to the back head cracking up a valve, or it might just've been old age, in the form of 82000 miles, catching up with the engine. £25 for a complete head seemed reasonable. Amazingly, the camchains and tensioners are still original!

The same couldn't be said for the exhaust system, the collector section rusting rapidly. A few bits of tube and some neat welding solved that one until the whole exhaust became splattered with rust where it was rusting from the inside out. Motad did a neat 2-1 that proved awkward to fit but seemed to emphasize the midrange torque. It was well built, is still on the bike with lots of life left. No carb changes were needed, I did note that there was a bit of surging at 10,000 revs - as likely to be caused by a bit of wear in the carbs as the new exhaust not quite matching the engine. Not that it was a great problem, I usually didn't go over 8000 revs.

The VT proved ideal for the commuting chores, a mixture of terrifying town work and the odd blast along crowded A-roads. Apart from the lack of need to go crazy on the gearbox, the Honda's narrowness and lightness made it a delightful bolide to hustle through ever more dense traffic. Not once in five years did it fail to get me to work on time, the bike having a reliability as intense as any religious nutter. Mild tuning and watercooling worked together in an engine package that had no inherent self-destruct tendencies.

The basic toughness of the mill will be borne out by any number of DR's, a whole subculture growing up around the VT. My mate did 160,000 miles on one example, literally riding the poor old thing into the ground (being clever he'd bought one of the last models in the country and kept it in perfect nick in readiness for the other one's demise). Another DR we know did an incredible 220,000 miles until the whole, dilapidated rat was completely worn out. I wasn't exactly unique doing more than 100,000 miles, then, but I still felt proud of the bike for surviving a not particularly benign regime.

I did have some electrical hassles along the way. They started when I tried to improve the front lamp, which wasn't up to more than 40mph down unlit roads. With the CB900 front end I had a big round headlamp that would take a 120 watt main beam from a car. God, that did wonders on dark roads, I've never ridden a bike with such a splendid main beam.

The trouble was that I hadn't upgraded the electrics to suit. I realised this when smoke poured out of the handlebar switch, it not being designed to take 10 amps. I shut down to dip which was only 60 watts but it was already too late, the lights flickering until they blew.

As well as a burnt out switch quite a few wires had melted their insulation, I was lucky not to have been burnt alive on a bike turned into a raging conflagration. I fitted new wires and a relay. That kept me going for a while but long runs would gradually drain the battery, leading to an imbalance in the electrical system. Eventually, I burnt out the rectifier and battery. I gave up on the ultra powerful bulb and fitted a halogen unit. Not a perfect solution because it only lasted for about 5000 miles before blowing up. An expensive indulgence but at least I could see in the dark.

Any weakness in the battery led to poor starting, as the electric starter was on the way out by 50,000 miles, having some trouble turning over a cold motor even when the battery was fully charged. I could've tried to refurbish the starter but the breaker insisted on giving me a used one for fifteen quid, so it hardly seemed worth the effort. New sparks plugs every 3000 miles were also necessary to maintain easy starting.

I didn't do all that much long distance work on the VT, mainly because I didn't have the time rather than being worried about any inherent fault with the Honda. Its riding position was mild, the seat comfortable, the suspension passable and engine vibes far from annoying. The stock handlebar fairing never did much to keep the wind off and my naked machine would conjure up a howling gale, come 90mph, that ruined shoulder, arm and neck muscles if held for more than a couple of minutes.

The most I did in one session was a circular ride of 375 miles. I was thankful to be back home. More a general weariness than any specific failing of the VT. Sitting on a motorcycle all day shouldn't be particularly hard work but it wasn't very relaxing, what with all the cagers out to get me, huge holes in the road and the odd cop car loitering with noxious intent. Maybe if I had a BMW boxer the bike would've inspired me to do 5000 mile weekends of Continental drifting, but the VT500, for all its virtues, never exactly sent me wild with passion.

What we have here is one fiendishly sane motorcycle made to the highest standards of ruggedness - the production engineer's dream bike rather than that of the designer. I can't be harsh on a cycle that has given such wonderful service and yet I can't find it within myself to find much to love about this machine. And here speaks a man who could spend hours praising the CB125S, just because it was his first bike, and could even spend some time on the joys of the CB400/4, even though it was slower and a lot less reliable than the VT. It's a pretty weird world.

Adrian Houston

****************************************************

'Look, mate, the front end wasn't much cop to begin with. That enclosed disc was a real pig. Better off without, ain't you!' I'd been forced back into the DR game just as October was beginning. Needed some tough wheels quick. Which was how I came to clock the 1988 VT500. 40,000 miles, bent back front end, knackered wheel, broken handlebar fairing, etc. The owner was a fellow DR who'd graduated to a Revere.

VT's are well liked by DR's - enough power to kill the cages, okay frugality, useful narrowness, and handling whilst far from inspiring wasn't actually dangerous. Oh, and the motor was pretty tough, some of them going around the clock. The very early ones sometimes had dodgy top ends and didn't react too well to a lack of oil changes or the usual round of DR abuse.

500 notes changed hands and everyone was happy. What I forgot to mention to the owner was I had a blown VT tucked to the back of the garage. Did 124000 miles on it until the motor blew up, crankshaft failure making sure there wasn't anything left to salvage. The front end wasn't bad - on its third due to cagers throwing their autos's in front of the bike.

It's not actually my garage but my brother-in-law's. All he owns is a pushbike so he was more than willing to let me fill his garage up with my surplus junk. There was the matter of seeing him out on the town with another woman; luckily for him I never really got on with my sister. Anyway, I got my mate to pick up the bike and dump it outside the garage.

My sister came out to see which oily mess was ruining the ambience of her particular bit of suburbia. She laughed at my poverty stricken appearance, looked disgusted at the wreck and muttered something about me getting a proper job. By the time she'd finished the tirade I'd swapped the front ends and waved a cheery goodbye.

The VT's a vee twin that makes all of 50 horses, doesn't vibrate nastily and is generally a competent bike. Exciting it ain't; there's never enough power to really overcome its 400lbs, although it'll rumble up to a ton-ten on a good day. This particular example whirred away nicely but had rather vague handling, the bars shaking furiously when I hit 30 and 60mph. Also, the shaft drive whined like it had no oil in it. One DR got his shaft so hot that it welded up the joints!

Back into the business of hurtling across London at unlikely velocities. Twitching bars aside, my times weren't bad and the money started to roll in after a couple of weeks. The main thing about the bike when despatching is that it should fade into the background, all attention focused on the road ahead and the antics of the other vehicles. The VT was such a neutral, characterless machine that it was a natural for this role.

After 9000 miles of abuse, 49 thou on the clock, the top ends became so rattly they drowned out the rotted exhausts. Hmmm! Well, I didn't really want to lounge around all weekend doing nothing, did I? The cylinder heads didn't want to come off until I attacked them with a chisel and hammer. I wished I hadn't bothered, the exhaust valves had sunk into the heads and the rockers had turned plastic.

If you want to make a breaker laugh, phone up and ask if he has any good VT heads. The last ones were made eight years ago. I ended up visiting six breakers in order to buy all the bits separately! Luckily, I had the use of a VX800 for the weekend but there was no way he would let me take it despatching, not that it would've been much cop - too long and heavy to snap around the cages; lovely motor, though.

A quick assembly job that involved as much bodging as skill, had the VT running again but the gasps of blue smoke and tapping noises only served to convince me that I wouldn't last long as a mechanic.

A week later I had an accident. It was all the fault of a bicycle despatcher. These are normally treated with utter contempt by real DR's but this one was female, had a taut little body like an athlete and looked like she should have been on the cover of The Face. She wore some kind of Lycra clothing that clung like clingfilm to her perfect shape.

The worst possible thing you can do in life is ride into the side of a car with a raging erection. This redefined the meaning of pain when my groin bounced on the handlebars. The frail didn't even bother to stop and offer to massage me back into life.

There are cagers and then there are cagers. This was one of those ex-rugby player types with a macho moustache and a huge inferiority complex. Only the fact that I was rolling around the pavement clutching my balls and screaming my head off stopped him beating the shit out of me!

When I'd recovered enough to stand up a miraculous sight met my eyes. A new Rover with a huge dent in its side and a perfect looking VT, which was still wedged in the car, hadn't even topped over. Almost made the pain worthwhile. Almost.

It looked like a classic case of a cage running out of a side turning, not seeing the bike coming, rather than some oversexed idiot not looking where he was going! The police agreed with the former and ticked the driver off. They were even bigger than him so he couldn't give them any lip.

I handed over my artfully forged documents for scrutiny, got them back and got out of there fast. Amazingly, the wobbling of the bars had stopped! I had to take the rest of the day off as it was far too painful to sit on the saddle! I never saw that girl again and I'm beginning to believe I imagined her, far too beautiful to be hustling around London on a pushbike.

The VT carried on running to 56000 miles when the main bearings started knocking. I couldn't believe it after I changed the oil every 1500 miles. The big-ends had gone as well. The only good parts of the motor were the gearbox, bores and pistons.

I'd amassed a fair pile of money because there weren't that many idiots willing to work through the ice and snow - the neutral feel of the VT allowing me to get away with riding over some really treacherous road surfaces. I really wanted another couple of months before moving on, so put the word out for another motor.

I got lucky on the back of someone else's bad luck. Another DR had comprehensively mashed his VT, a 80,000 miler with nothing left except for the motor. I visited him in hospital, a terrible sight, encased almost totally in plaster; a fifty-fifty chance of walking again. I could have the remains for £200. I felt a bit like a coffin chaser but what the hell, life goes on.

The VT rattled, knocked and vibrated merrily away but seemed more powerful than the last one. A bit of blood and guts when 5000 revs were dialled in. I was losing it fast, though, going with the flow through the traffic becoming increasingly difficult. My nerve was beginning to go. I needed some R and R but I also wanted more dosh!

Two months later I packed it in. I had enough money and was worried by the close shaves every day. My reflexes were shot to hell. The VT was falling apart under me. I thought a quick going over would sort her out. Dump all the DR stuff, refresh the paint and clean up the alloy. It was great to get up when I wanted and not have to rush around like a lunatic. Relaxation was cleaning up the VT!

It looked good enough to ride around on for a while. I whacked a pin in the map. Bloody Glasgow. The next day I loaded the VT up with camping gear, put a smile on my face and headed out of London. This was March, by the way, and no sooner did I hit the M1 than it pissed down. 200 miles later the VT started running on one cylinder. WD40 worked. By the time I got to Glasgow I was all for selling it! My mate there knew someone who knew someone who might be interested. A few days later the VT was gone, £750.

A useful tool, but they are getting old nowadays. Buy one off an old codger's who done the maintenance chores, it'll probably go around the clock. Buy one from a DR, then the engine can blow up any time - some last for ever, others go knock, knock pretty damn quick. Not inspiring but when you need serious wheels, worth checking out.

Dick Lewis

 

Honda Transalp

The fear came when the back wheel started to sink into the mud. The Transalp was running like a dream along a gravel track until I spied a fox. I thought I'd do my bit for the environment by chasing it down. I was concentrating on the fox rather than where I was going. That was how I ended up way off the beaten track with the back wheel deep in mud and the front on a patch of solid grass. I hit the throttle and slipped the clutch, leaning forward to try to avoid the tons of mud that was thrown off the wheel.

The gearbox took that moment to lock into second. Already covered from head to toe in mud, I jumped up and down on the seat trying to gain traction. Suddenly we hurtled forward, right into a tree. I was thrown over the bars, leaving a helmet sized dent in the ancient oak. Dazed, shivering and soaked through, I wandered around in circles. Muttering nursery rhymes to myself. After about half an hour I got ahold of myself and examined the Transalp.

The front wheel and forks were a little bent but it'd rattle along at about 5mph. My whole body hurt - neck, back, arm and leg pains screaming through my brain. I made the main road and a telephone box. Rescue came in the form of a mate with an ancient Cortina and trailer. We were followed by the police for a couple of miles but we escaped the usual interrogation. I stayed in bed for three days, shivering, sweating and screaming in terror. That was the end of my off-road adventures on the Transalp!

I had the wheel and forks straightened. The forks came with bright red gaiters but were long travel and a bit on the spindly side. Thus vulnerable in crashes. If I was buying another one I'd pull up the gaiters to check for crease marks. The ride was on the soggy side (this on a five year old '89 model) but useful over large bumps and deep pot-holes.

The bars twitched in my hands under any number of circumstances but the gyrations died out as quickly as the disturbance disappeared. I could sit through a lot of shit on the Honda because of the comfortable, upright riding position. An essential element after a year on a tortuous FZ600 that had my doctor threatening me with a hospital stay. These race replicas seemed designed to pick up on any weakness in the human body. I don't think you should have to be some kind of super athlete just to ride a motorcycle.

The Transalp's engine aided comfort by the cleverness of its design, which more or less eliminated vibration. A 52 degree vee twin, watercooled of course, with off-set con-rods that effectively gave perfect primary vibration. Variations of the engine have turned up in sports-tourers, trail bikes and even custom cruisers. Curiously, the cylinder heads were inspired by the Superdream's three valve design. It may not be the most efficient in the world but at least it's tough.

The vee-twin unit has proved itself as very strong over the years and few worries should turn up in the first 35-40,000 miles in standard tune. Thereafter look for cams, tensioner, clutch and gearbox problems. Well looked after bikes can do over 100,000 miles without too much trouble. That couldn't be said of DR bikes which are often relentlessly thrashed and neglected. The finish ain't brilliant, so it's quite obvious which bikes have been neglected.

A lot of the toughness of the engine comes from the fact that it's not very highly tuned. Any old British 650 twin could give the bike a run for its money (until the vibes and trail of bits falling off slow them down). There's not much point trying to do more than 90mph, which also turns out to be a reasonable cruising speed. The bike will hold that against most obstacles, although bumpy roads caused the Honda to leap around on its long travel suspension......I've ridden old BMW's that are more disturbing.

The overall effect of the way the elements of the Transalp come together is of an astonishingly enjoyable motorcycle. Its versatility and comfort shines through after the first couple of months. Initial impressions may not be so favourable, especially on high mileage examples. The loose suspension takes some getting used to. The transmission's rather vague, needing a skilled left foot. The high seat height and awkward low speed handling makes for an uneasy feel. Just persevere for a couple of months to make it all come together nicely.

My bike had a particularly nasty gearbox that was full of false neutrals. Not helped by a quick wear chain and too many aftermarket sprockets that were poorly made. The excursion off road had poured so much muck over the back end that the 3500 mile old O-ring chain was completely ruined. The chains and sprockets normally lasted about 6000 miles even under mild road use. I blame the long travel suspension.

Some of the wear was down to my infrequent wheelies. I could pull the front wheel a foot or so off the ground with ease, a useful trait when the road surface turned particularly disgusting. I know one patch of London road where the holes were filled in with tarmac about six inches above the normal surface. Looking like someone had just poured the tarmac off the back of a fast moving lorry. I don't think I could ride a normal bike, and certainly not a replica, in London any more.

I could weave and wobble through heavy traffic with reasonable ease, but at low speed the 385lbs felt concentrated high, especially when the fuel tank was full. In town the bike managed about 55mpg, maybe 60mpg if the riding was relaxed (rare, admittedly). In other conditions about 50mpg was normal.

One funny moment was had when the back cylinder's carb seized wide open. That left the engine trying to tear itself apart until I hit the killswitch. By then I'd run out of road, rambled off over a grass verge and the made a modernistic sculpture out of a bit of hedge. Full motorcycle gear protected me from the brambles and nettles but not from some farmer type who went into an harangue. These country people are not very happy souls, I blame the excess of sheep myself.

The Transalp was a bit scarred but not shattered by the experience. I clambered back on board, rode into the sunset with a silly grin on my face. The carb was quickly if temporary fixed by tapping it with a spannner. It did the same trick near home, the slide had worn way beyond redemption and a less worn carb was fitted (the old one had done 36000 miles). The cramped nature of the vee made it extremely difficult to fit without reaching for the crow-bar.

Both camchains were starting to rattle by 43000 miles, not brilliant but expected. These were easy to fit. Two camchains and tensioners cost under a hundred quid. The rest of the motor seemed solid so I saw no point in trading in for something newer.

The latest model has a sexier fairing than mine, which makes it look a bit like a rolling teapot from certain angles. Protection ain't that good, air and water swirls behind the screen at speeds above 60mph. Strong side winds and the slipstream of large lorries can make the front of the fairing flap around but it's not actually terminal. Stiffer suspension would probably eliminate this trait entirely. The back shock's still original! It's just about able to cope with high speeds and smooth roads, or low speeds and rough roads, but not high speeds on rough roads.

The Transalp was never too popular in the UK, its styling putting people off. Old ones go for as little as £1000. Less than two grand will buy a jolly nice one but mine ain't for sale.

F.R.K.

Honda XRV750 Africa Twin

A farm track was my first bit of off-road riding on the Africa Twin. Equipped with a big 750cc vee-twin, that had more than a passing resemblance to the old VT500, I wasn't too scared of becoming bogged down on the mud infested track. Developing 62 horses at 7500rpm there was also an excess of torque from 1500rpm up. It only had, and only needed, a five speed gearbox, first sufficient for very slow riding in town or on the rough.

With its huge expanse of GRP, and a full five gallons of petrol on board, the Honda felt a bit top heavy as the tyres squelched over the mud, especially with a 34 inch seat height and my feet being far from flat on the ground. The odd rock was absorbed without any traumas, the forks were equally brilliant at fending off the depreciations of the pot-holes on the tarmac.

As the road twisted hard to the right I found myself in a little trouble. The front tyre thought it was an ideal moment to skid away. The tip of my foot whacked the track as I tried to flip the bike back upright. It weighs 440lbs dry, nearer 500lbs with fuel, oil and coolant added. Once it starts going it needs a hell of a lot of muscle to put back on course even on the tarmac. On that muddy track I was way out of my depth. The Africa Twin and I parted company.

It was so slippery that no serious damage was done to either myself or the bike. The farmer took that moment to pop up out of nowhere, screaming abuse at me whilst waving a shotgun around. He hated motorcyclists coming anywhere near his land. He didn't help me as I tried to lift the Honda up, too heavy and awkward. I think the real Paris Dakar version is probably 150lbs lighter.

When I finally pulled the XRV upright, I was more than thankful for the electric starter, but not for the way it turned over for five minutes before it fired into life. The farmer was livid by then, the shotgun pointed at me as we skidded along the track back on to the road proper. I tooted the horn, revved the engine hard in neutral and then did a 100 yard wheelie, just to show him who was boss!

I'd had an on-off relationship ever since I got hold of it. It was, for instance, brilliant for hustling through town at a fierce pace. Brakes, acceleration and general handling ability were on a par with anything else and the vee-twin thrum was quite intoxicating. The ease with which I could get the front wheel off the ground also added some insanity to the commuter chores. My favourite act of anarchy was roaring up on to the pedestrian precinct with the front wheel a couple of feet off the ground, the wheel waggling around a little and a continuous blast on the horn keeping the peds in their proper place.

On the other hand, sometimes the Honda would refuse to start. It'd churn away on the starter for ages with the odd bang in the exhaust. Then I'd go away for an hour and she'd fire up first time when I came back. This really incensed me, made me scream off up the road on the back wheel. The engine was good for low end grunt but would also rev very hard to 8000rpm. There was absolutely no problem seeing off hot cars and most other motorcycles up to 80-90mph.

Like too many modern motorcycles, when I wanted to do something simple, like change the plugs to see if they were causing the starting hassles, it needed thirty minutes work tearing off the tank, seat, etc. Even then the back cylinder's plug wasn't exactly accessible - those of a nervous disposition would be shaking at the thought of stripping a thread. Even more hassle is involved checking the three valves per cylinder, but to be fair, in 9000 miles they never needed any adjustment.

Even with a brand new set of plugs the starting problem persisted. The one dealer I took it to, in complete frustration, couldn't replicate the refusal to start so couldn't locate the cause. As he charged me £50 just for looking at it and refused to hand the machine back until I'd paid up, I was pretty pissed off. Especially when the next day the engine was stone dead. I started pulling and pushing at what wiring I could grab, figuring it was maybe a loose wire. Aha! The bugger started first press of the button. That was the end of the poor starting.

But not the end of my travails. My second off road excursion consisted of following a friend on an XT600 up a mountain. This time it was dry, the suspension and tyres having more of a chance over the rocky path. We seemed to be travelling damn fast, I'd actually clonked up to second gear with 40mph on the clock. The mountain was becoming so steep that I thought if I tried to slow down the bike would turn over backwards.

I saw a flash of red as my mate ahead neared the top of the mountain, braking hard and slewing sideways. Before I had a chance to follow suit we were over the summit and flying through the air. I knew enough to keep the front wheel up, we crashed down into some thick bushes after dropping about ten feet. The landing almost broke my back. Worse still, I was in these shoulder high bushes with a dead motor and no apparent way out.

I could hear my mate roaring with laughter. When he recovered he scrabbled down to help me push the Honda through the dense bushes on to another track. The bike looked like someone had gone over it with a wire brush. Shit! I free-wheeled down the track and bumped the XRV back into life.

The overwhelming impression of the Honda off-road was of a lumbering rhino charging along destroying everything in its path. The plastic bits seemed quite tough, taking the odd tumble without falling apart but it was so heavy that I was always in fear of not being able to pick it up if we fell over. For days after that last excursion my back was hell and I was in a foul temper from the pain.

Other than off-road, the Honda had a wonderfully relaxed riding position, which with the fairing was as useful on motorways as it was in town. True, the fairing lacked width and height but it somehow managed to throw the worst of the wind blast around my body. Rain was a different matter, but I'd grown up on naked bikes and was used to wrapping up in several layers of waterproofs.

The only time I really cursed the plastic was in heavy sidewinds when the fairing would catch the breeze, bounce the front end around, giving terrible directional stability. Despite the long travel suspension, it was usually pretty stable even on rutted road surfaces, but with the heavy winds it was wandering over a whole lane's worth of tarmac. I was caught out twice in that way during a year's riding so it's by no means a massive problem.

I didn't go any faster than 110mph, though I felt there was a bit more left in the engine. Beyond 90mph there's a bit of weaving. It wasn't really frightening but the steering seemed very light and very vague, and if it hit a bump all hell would break loose. Below 90mph, though, it would skim over rough surfaces without throwing up any frightening reactions. It was one way, although involuntary, of keeping my licence in reasonable shape.

The mass of the bike was the limiting factor in tight curves. There was plenty of leverage from the high bars but quite a lot of the excessive mass was carried a long way from the ground. It wasn't an entirely natural machine to ride but it was one that responded well to a bit of muscle and hustle.

Well, most of the time. On one country road race with an FZ600, I was staying out in front by taking the Honda over at ridiculous angles and punching the gearbox back and forth between third and fourth. On one change down it didn't seem to engage so I whacked it again, found the box in second gear with a locked up back wheel. The suspension was already compressed and I was banked far over.

Somehow, I put in an almighty body twitch, getting the bike vertical as an alternative to falling off. Unfortunately, the road was still curving away to the left. Gravel, grass and mud the bike managed to take at 40 to 50mph. A large ridge it didn't like hitting at 30mph, but I hung on to the twitching bars, got my toes down and slewed to a halt. I could feel my heart pounding away, drowning out the thrum of the engine.

There was a two yard long skid mark left by the locked up wheel and a bloody great dent in the front rim. I could just about manage to control the bike at 10mph as we pottered home in a thoroughly disenchanted mood.

There was no way I could find the cash to buy a Honda rim but managed to have the wheel rebuilt using a more ubiquitous alloy rim. I was pleased with the fork gaiters and plastic protecting the front calipers but the bare O-ring chain, Pro-Link bearings and single rear disc were much less impressive in terms of potential longevity. The alloy swinging arm was better than the usual rust trap.

You won't get much more than 45mpg out of the engine but that apart it's been cheap to run with the pads, chain and tyres wearing very slowly. In town it's great fun and it's a capable tourer with good comfort plus a range of over 200 miles. Off-road it's a bit of a laugh, being shod with tyres that can't take muddy roads and enough weight to break spines and spirits.

Alec Doyle

Honda NTV650

I needed some wheels quickly, I had around £2500 and wanted something that would run relentlessly, not having the time, energy nor coherence to deal with some old rat of a motorcycle. I was still running some kind of debilitating fever from my African adventure, that left my hands shaking so much I doubted if I could hold a spanner let alone use it.

There was also the possibility that I might be forced to go despatching if a deal I was trying to cut fell through or that if a lot of dosh fell into my hands I'd want to immediately leave these far from fair shores. Within a week of returning I was so bored out of my head that I was badgering old friends for rides on their pillions, usually something I stayed clear of as they were generally crazier than even I.

One of these friends had proudly been showing off his brand new NTV650. He was quite impressed with the torque at running in speeds but he'd become bored with the lack of high speed power, complaining that he couldn't get the thing above the ton. He had the chance of buying a bargain priced GSXR750 which meant he happily took £2400 off me for the four month old machine (new they cost £3300).

The NTV650 is very similar to the old 600 vee twin, the major difference was that Honda knocked a pile of dosh off the price. They seemed to make up for this by fitting cheaper ancillaries which were somewhat at odds with the ultra trendy single sided swinging arm and shaft drive that was so well designed it didn't seem to intrude. After too many old hacks the NTV seemed incredibly sophisticated, with a vee-twin engine that was very smooth after the old boxer, had a gearbox of great finesse and slickness, and had even more torque between 2500 and 8000 revs.

Honda claimed 55 horses at 7500rpm and 44lb-ft at 6500rpm. The maximum torque figure seemed about right but the top speed of around the ton indicated that only about 40 horses were reaching the back wheel. Although the transmission has an extra twist in it to align engine direction with that of the shaft it's unlikely that so much power was lost getting from crankshaft to back wheel.

The poor power output was probably down to the three valve heads being hopelessly out of date and the strange exhaust system that ended in an ultra short muffler after going into a massive collector box. The way the pipe exits from the rear cylinder also hinders efficient exhaust flow. On the other hand, it may just be that Honda went for the real world rider who needs exactly what the Honda delivers on UK roads, a large dose of torque inspired acceleration between 40 and 90mph in top gear.

The Honda was, then, incredibly easy to ride. After some experimentation I found I could take off in third, use that gear for town work and then change up to fifth for use at higher speeds. The original owner, after I'd had the bike for a couple of weeks, asked how I was getting on with the gearbox. He was shocked when I said fine, saying he'd always found it a great hassle to change gear smoothly. I pointed out that I'd gone through a series of old hacks that left me feeling lucky if I did a hundred miles without the gearbox seizing up.

On the Honda I felt lucky if I did ten miles in the wet without sliding off. The OE Bridgestones I did not like one little bit. There was 5000 miles on the clock, they had less than 3mm of tread and they felt very treacherous, not really imparting any information as to how they were reacting with the road surface at town speeds. I could bank over hard in the dry, but on wet roads the chassis became very queasy indeed.

The wheels were 17 inchers, so there was a large choice of replacements. I got a good deal on Metzelers, which I knew wouldn't last long but that was a small price to pay for keeping the Culler frame intact. Jolly nice they were, too, letting me up the pace both in town and on the open road, whatever the weather.

What kept intruding, showing up where Honda had cut some corners, were the disc brakes, one at each end. Lack of outright power was the most worrying aspect, the hotter the front disc became the more the power faded away. It was like riding an old Honda CD175 hard, the old drum brake out front fading away as the casting distorted. On one occasion I was left frantically pumping the lever as it came back to the bars.

Running the Honda off the road in such circumstances was pretty nasty. Especially when the front disc suddenly locked as we hit the grass, the front wheel slewing away with great ferocity. 17 inch wheels are supposed to be the business, these days, but despite the fat rubber they seemed to react to circumstances in a much more violent manner than either 18 or 19 inch wheels.

It was an interesting contrast to ride a seventies Tiger with a 19 inch wheel out front. The front tyre looked, in contrast, as if it came straight off a bicycle. The suspension was so stiff after the Honda's compliant if slightly wayward stuff, that the impression of riding a rigid framed machine was paramount as we chugged down the road. But what a great feeling of security I had from the chassis, how well planted on the road it felt with so much feedback, so much certainty as to how the old-fashioned tyres (in shape not compound) were reacting.

What's more the 650cc vertical twin engine had as much, if not more, torque in top gear roll-ons between 35 and 80mph. True, thereafter, the bane of the design, dreadful vibes, buzzed the whole chassis in a way that no Honda engineer would tolerate, and it was an utter pain to my wrecked body to kick into life.

Coming back to the Honda after 30 miles on the old Triumph, it felt like total mush for a while. Honda had deemed it necessary to fit to their high tech single sided swinging arm a mono-shock, that even when turned up to its highest settings, was about on a par with those Fade-Very-Quickly units fitted to Superdreams. Come 8000 miles what had been mildly annoying became very worrying, as every time I backed off the throttle the swinging arm leapt up and down in a thoroughly crazy manner, the back tyre threatening to come through the seat.

It hadn't taken me long to put that mileage on the clock as business had necessitated a couple of mad runs up to Scotland and back. This basically consisted of putting the Honda in the fast lane, holding on to 90mph regardless of other traffic. Cars that refused to budge, and there were very few of them, after a dose of flashing main beam, were taken on the inside with a dose of horn and shake of the fist. A technique I'd learnt on the African Continent which didn't seem to go down too well with English drivers. A carefully obscured numberplate combined with not registering the bike in my name meant I could ignore hidden cameras and hovering helicopters.

As soon as some money came in I spent it on a decent rear Ohlins shock (at trade price but still wallet warping) and put a pounds worth of washers in the front forks. Aha, that was better, I could actually feel what the tyres were doing and the Honda gained a bit of an edge to its handling. It was heavy for a 650cc vee twin at 420lbs, but was easy to throw about and, with the suspension fixed, nicely secure.

Its new found handling abilities meant the front brake was even more highly stressed than before. At 9000 miles it started making clanging noises, the disc, which looked rather thin, was warped. The pads had about 1mm of material left and the pistons looked a bit scored. I was tempted to leave them on, run off the road and sue Honda for a few million, but the thought of having to pay some arsehole of a lawyer soon turned me off that idea. I must admit that adding washers on top of the fork's springs had not been a perfect solution as there was even less travel left than on the old Triumph.

My mate who owns a breakers reckoned he could fit a CBR600 front end he just happened to have handy for a couple of hundred quid. As he's a bit of a wideboy I checked the forks over to make sure they hadn't been straightened. In his youth he used to go around swapping old dogs of engines for someone's nearly new motor when they were parked up. I've never seen someone remove an engine from a frame so quickly. With that in mind I hung around and half-heartedly leant a hand (usually fetching the beer from the fridge).

A useful cash bonus turned up when some punter came in demanding to buy the NTV front end so the actual cost of the transplant bore no relationship to the transformation of the handling and braking. The CBR forks are both well sprung and damped, totally adequate to the needs of the NTV, and the brake is a pair of huge discs with state of the art calipers. On the road, just touching the lever gently had the front wheel screaming and it took a week or so to re-educate my right hand.

So, two months into my ownership I had a thoroughly modern chassis that was as good as any and better than most. What I also had was a motor whose lack of outright power was boring the shit out of me. As my body began to shrug off the effects of the African experience, as my reflexes came back to their former sharpness, as the shakes went away and as my vision sharpened to maximum intensity, I wanted a machine that would send me high with its acceleration and blow my mind with insane speed. Well, alright, I didn't want to kill myself or wreck my spine on some race replica, what I really wanted was 125mph and a bit of blood and guts. I'd had more kicks off an old GS550 Katana, a machine renown for being flash but heavy and slow.

It was pretty obvious that some tuning was in order. The most obvious thing to pull off was the exhaust system, which must've weighed a good fifty pounds. Unfortunately, no-one seemed to make a replacement. The downpipes were retained, with some neat welding from another mate, becoming a two into one but without the collector box, which was already showing signs of rusting through. Before I fitted a silencer to the end of the 2-1, I fired the motor up to see what it sounded like. What a beautiful bellow! Some lout hammering on the front door for ten minutes after I'd turned the engine off persuaded me that a silencer might be slightly less anti-social.

A magnificent pattern Goldie silencer was attached, revealing that the engine wouldn't rev beyond 3000rpm. It was pretty obvious that the whole air-filter assembly, another weighty item, could be pulled out. My mate in the breaker was raided for bigger jets, the existing ones seemed sealed in but were persuaded out with some mild engineering work (readers, I feel, are too squeamish for me to go into details).

To be fair to Honda, there's absolutely no way that the bike would pass the noise tests in this state, although it was tolerable below 5000 revs in fourth or fifth. Torque seemed similar below those revs but the bike had a real crack to it between 5000 and 9000rpm. It didn't quite pull my arms out of my sockets or stain my pants, but it would shoot through the ton in a way the standard bike couldn't hope to emulate, whilst giving out a bellow that was reminiscent of a vintage racer. It was highly effective in jerking cagers out of their reverie, allowing me to blast past them at 100 to 110mph. The speedo would touch 120mph, but by then some vibes were emanating from the vee twin motor, about on a level with a Bonnie at 70mph.

The stock bike had been doing 40 to 50mpg, I once got it down to 35mpg on a particularly twisty country road excursion. With the freer flowing exhaust and induction, despite higher speeds, it still managed 45mpg for most of the time. The four gallon tank meant it would run for 160 miles before it was time to search for a petrol station.

That was about right in relation to the comfort factor. The seat was okay, the riding position well thought out but ultimately the lack of a fairing meant that I took a real battering at speeds over 90mph. More than two hours of that abuse had me looking forward to a quick stop for fuel and leg stretch. In town or at moderate speeds the bike was so comfortable that I could go on for hours without feeling tired, helped by the easy going nature of the motor.At the time of writing, after a mere four months of abuse on my part, there's 12500 miles on the clock. The only thing to go a bit dubious was the gearbox which has become a bit crunchy but nothing a firm boot and bit of determination can't overcome. I've become so used to the relative sophistication of the engine that any minor irritants show up in a way that wouldn't have been countenanced on my more usual old hacks.

All I've done to the engine is change the oil every 5000 miles. As lots of despatch riders will testify, they are extremely tough, can go around the clock without needing a stripdown. Stock they are so mild that they make an ancient CX500 seem sporty (if incredibly crude) but that easy going nature is a bonus to DR's who have to spend eight or ten hours in the saddle every day. The new price is sufficient of a bargain to make it a good buy, used prices make it an even greater one. But after a month most riders will be bored out of their heads with the mild performance.

Al Culler