Motorcycling is one of the strangest games going. I started out young
with a Tiger Cub field bike. Rode illegally on the road a few times. By
seventeen I had a serious bike in the form of a CB400 four. One of the early
F1's - identified by the pillion pegs on the swinging arm. Red, with the
original sexy four into one exhaust. 18000 miles, one owner, just ready
for some serious riding, I thought. Luckily it came with several boxes of
parts. Including the all important pistons and rings. A chronic weak spot,
going down every 20,000 miles or so. Mine went, predictably, at 19,400 miles.
Much to my disgust.
It was this demise, though fixed cheaply with just a new gasket set,
that started a period of decline. I just rode the bike, with the occasional
oil change thrown in when the gearbox went really dire. It was always a
bit hit and miss but I'd grown up on similar hacks, wasn't that annoyed.
The bike was 15 years old then but its finish was still good because bits
had been replaced along the way and the owner was devoted to the machine.
It took eighteen months of neglect before the rust began to seep out from
under the chassis paint.
The petrol tank was the first to go, eventually dribbling out fuel. I
actually sent a couple of cops into a frenzy when I parked up in Bristol's
town centre. They cited it as a potential fire hazard and were all for having
it towed away. Until their tirade was interrupted by squawking radios. They
buggered off and so did I. One of my crazier friends, who had decided he
was a mechanic after an afternoon's training with a hammer, pointed a welding
torch at the bottom of the empty tank...
He reckoned he'd always wanted a bald head. He didn't have much choice
in the matter after the petrol vapour caught when he made a big hole in
the bottom of the tank. As I said, he was crazy, didn't give up until the
bottom of the tank was reinforced with steel plate. You could only see it
from underneath, so a good bodge.
He also waved the magic wand at the exhaust system, which was falling
apart around the collector box. The work of art exhaust ended up looking
naff from the one side. I had to put an inline filter on the fuel pipe to
stop the rust gunging up the carbs and the altered exhaust put a bit of
a flat spot in the rev range between 4500 and 6500rpm.
This actually added some spice to the power delivery. At best, the CB400's
37 horses were mildly amusing. At worst, it'd gasp along at 80mph on the
motorway, into a headwind. 105mph was the most I ever managed. Needing a
head between the clocks stance and a thorough workout on the gearbox, with
a good chance of ending up in a false neutral, the engine screaming to 13000rpm.
At times the need to ride at ten-tenths everywhere was kind of fun, other
times it was rather irritating.
One good point was that ridden mildly, as in below 6000rpm, the mill
would turn in 65mpg, sometimes as much as 70mpg! Considering that I never
touched the four carbs or eight valves in the first eighteen months that
was pretty amazing. Flat out, it could go down to 35mpg under adverse conditions.
The average worked out at 55-60mpg. Along with cheap used consumables that
lasted well, the general running costs were as good, if not better, than
most 250's!
Having failed to break the bike in 18 months of neglect, with 38000 miles
on the clock I decided it was worthy of serious effort. At that point I'd
forgotten the way the pistons went down every 20,000 miles - it had so impressed
me that I was blind to its potential faults. Anyway, one complete respray,
polish, engine service and replacement petrol tank later I was back on the
road on what was generally viewed as one of the classic bikes of the seventies.
By then it was 1993 and there weren't that many CB400's left on the road.
Either worn out or collecting dust in ever hopeful collectors' garages.
With 41000 miles on the clock, the engine started smoking heavily, with
some disturbing piston slap. It still ran okay but I had the feeling that
if I didn't do something quick it'd break up on me. A great hunt followed
for some pistons and cylinder, only attained after I'd run after some other
guy on a 400. He had half a garage full of stuff and three examples of the
model! He sold me pistons, cylinder and new exhaust system for £200.
Not quite hack country, perhaps, but my mate on a CBR9 spends a similar
amount every 3000 miles on consumable replacements!
I even went so far as to buy new gearbox selectors from the local Honda
dealer who was trying to shift his seventies spares. I had finally become
tired of going from first into about half a dozen neutrals until second
or third was finally, desperately, attained. The renovated machine was lovingly
pushed into the daylight on a sublimely clear April day...refused to start!
Cry? Nope, I swapped the HT leads over, but only after half an hour's frustrated
tinkering. You feel a right pillock after doing something silly like that.
This time the Honda whirled into life and wobbled down the road. It had
always been a particularly fine handler, even on naff tyres, so I was a
bit disconcerted to find it veering all over the road just like my field
bike Tiger Cub. A quick look over revealed a loose swinging arm - it would
move from side to side. It suddenly dawned on me what the two large washers
I'd found on the garage floor were for. Hmmm!
With that fixed it was all back to business, the engine whirring away
better than ever before and the bike winning admiring glances from just
about everyone. It's a cute, compact thing that dances through traffic just
as well as it does through the country lanes. Amazing, really, when you
think the chassis was basically off the dreadful CB360G5. I've even had
the odd dice with bigger fours, doing them on the corners only to be blown
away on the straights. So inspiring was the CB400 in its day that there
was a 460cc kit that liberated the true power potential of the engine. Given
the way the stocker eats pistons, though, you'd have to be very optimistic
to take it seriously. Still, could be fun as a Sunday toy.
For a year I kept the bike in fine fettle but that didn't stop the rings
breaking up at 57000 miles. Caused by the small-ends wearing and allowing
the pistons to wobble around. Effectively, the crankshaft was ruined. £450
bought a rebuilt engine, which actually vibrated rather than whirled smoothly;
newish CB400's are turbine smooth! Nevertheless, it was run in neglect mode
for the next three years, doing over 70,000 miles with only three sets of
replacement rings, a bit of gearbox work and one rebuilt cylinder head.
It would've got the mileometer around the clock had not the speedo exploded
at 89000 miles!
The bike is still in my garage but sagging on wrecked suspension and
putting out enough exhaust emissions to give an environmentalist a permanent
grudge. I've got an MZ 301 for the hacking chores so may well do another
renovation job on the 400, as they can fetch as much as 1500 notes. Despite
its piston problems it has to be the ultimate hack. Alas, these days, it's
hard to find nice ones at reasonable prices.
Mark Wright
Welcome to our little corner of the WWW! We offer real motorcycling stories rescued from Interweb oblivion for your enjoyment, edification and reading pleasure, with horrible layout and questionable grammar as standard since 2010 ;)
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Tuesday, 31 March 2015
Honda CL90: Vintage steed with a surprising usefulness
In amongst a huge array of grey's in the importers there was this small
Honda single of 1970 vintage. It had somehow survived 27 years in the States,
only 14000 miles done. Lots of alloy rot and corroded chrome but a few kicks
had the engine running. It looked very similar to the C50/90 series but
had a handlebar clutch lever and four speed gearbox. With an upswept exhaust
and high bars it had evidently been marketed to the Americans as some kind
of mild trailster! I hoped it was going to have all the mechanical virtues
of Honda's infamously indestructible step-thru's with the handling of a
proper motorcycle. I had to hand over £300 to find out.
Being 62, retired and a lifelong biker I was looking for something easy to ride, cheap to run and simple to maintain. Some modern bikes fit the bill - CG125, GS125, etc., but are much too expensive when bought new or newish. The only cheap old ones I had viewed were in an awful state. The little Honda came as a great relief as the pushbike was becoming a bit much.
That relief only last for a few days. I was just getting used to its mild ways, the need to keep the momentum up, when the starting went difficult. One new spark plug - amazingly easy to fit, by the way - didn't solve it. The points were heavily spotted with carbon. One very good point then emerged - a set of C90 points from the breakers went straight in. I could just imagine approaching the local flash Honda dealer and asking for parts for a 1970 bike they had doubtless never heard of. Interchangeability of parts with C90's makes the bike a very practical proposition.
New spark and points helped the starting but then it would conk out without any warning. My old heart didn't need that fright! I cleaned the fuel tank, pipe and carb out but there was hardly any debris there. Being an old hand, I decided the condenser was to blame. A car item (less than a quid) was wired in and, bingo, all systems go.
Though the SL could never be called fast, the high bars were very irritating to someone used to sensible motorcycles. They were a rather odd diameter, took some sifting through my collection of old British bits to find a flat set of bars. Off a Norman Nippy, or something similarly obscure, I think! That was more like it, the seat still surprisingly plush and the pegs well placed, if like me, you're on the small side.
The next thing I noticed was that the bike would top out at about 55mph - with the engine screaming and vibrating away in fourth gear. Evidently geared to run up near vertical cliffs. Another visit to the breakers secured a newish chain and sprocket set - just as well as the old chain had some tight spots. The larger engine sprocket gave taller gearing, an indicated 65mph coming up on the speedo. 50mph cruising was much more relaxed. Whilst at the breakers I also bought a newish set of tyres to replace the plastic junk that came with the bike - whether they aged badly or were the OE rubbish I know not.
After a good cleaning session, I was pretty pleased with my new purchase. Even more so when I worked out that fuel was an astonishing 115mpg! Small though the Honda was, it was capable of doing 150 miles in one sitting before the discomfort became too great. Then it was into a fuel station, gas up, walk around for five minutes until I was ready for another session. One time I was so engrossed in riding up the east coast that I ended up 400 miles away from home!
The problem was getting back. Most of the generator's power goes to keeping the ignition working, very little left for the lighting. The horn's a particularly pathetic squeak. This meant avoiding riding on unlit roads at night. As the bike wasn't up to motorway work, this meant I had no chance of reaching home before the sun disappeared. As I'm a widower I didn't have to worry about a panicking wife. A bed and breakfast sufficed, though the landlady couldn't believe I'd come so far on such a small bike. She still made me take off my shoes before I could cross the threshold.
The next morning I left with a song in my heart, the little Honda rustling along as if it too was happy to be out and above. I then almost had a heart attack when some clown in a Cavalier tried to cross my path without warning. The small SLS drums didn't inspire, but I managed to twitch around the back of the horror. The car driver then slammed on his brakes, shoved his head out of the window and screamed abuse at me. Couldn't hear much through the lid but the popping eyes and red face indicated he wasn't a happy bunny. You can't help the blind, I always say.
I did notice that after a 100 miles of hard riding the Honda ran very hot. Clutch drag set in if this coincided with entering a town centre. Doing the kangaroo hop at my age isn't quite the done thing, is it? Some adjustment of the clutch cable sufficed but I had to remember to readjust it when the motor had cooled down. These kind of minor irritants seem par for the course on old motorcycles. Pay your money and take your choice.
During the summer the bike was used every day, though many times for just hopping around town. Certain things emerged. The oil needing changing every 700 miles to stop the engine and gearbox going temperamental. Given fresh oil it ran with a very nice rustle indeed! The spark plug didn't want to last for more than 2500 miles. Couldn't find any reason for this, it wasn't oiling up or anything. The exhaust valve started tapping if not adjusted every 1000 miles (easy enough) whilst the inlet valve never needed any attention. Odd, I can only assume that the former was becoming a bit hot. One area that lacked the step-thru's practicality was the absence of full chain enclosure - adjustment needed every 200 miles, or so. Other than these things, the bike just whirred away in a typical Oriental manner.
At the end of the summer there was some heavy rain and I skidded off the bike on the polished road surface. Landed on my knee with a lot of skin scraped away. The CL could be kicked straight without too much effort and I rode to the local hospital, expecting tea and sympathy. Received three different lectures about someone of my great age riding motorcycles. Cheek!
The next day I decided to sort my mind out by going for a long ride. Togged up in several layers of waterproofs I didn't really mind the thunder and lightning show. Towards the end of the seventy mile journey, the Honda started to stutter but we made it back home and the next day it ran fine.
I managed to ride most of the time in the Autumn but the heavy winter months were a bit too much - just short trips when there was a weak sun in the sky. The Honda didn't like being neglected, needing many kicks if it hadn't been started for a week - rather like me, going all stiff if I don't have a good walk every day. February 1998 was thankfully mild and sunny, beating all the record books!
I had spent some time getting the alloy and chrome up to a mirror shine, T-cutting the paint back to its former glory and going over a myriad of minor items. Many people thought it must be some new retro model aimed at the sub-125cc sector and were amazed to learn it was 28 years old! Some hardcore bikers went away muttering darkly when I revealed how cheap were fuel, consumables and insurance. Don't know how long it will last but I shall try to keep it going for as long as I am able to ride it.
George Newyn
Being 62, retired and a lifelong biker I was looking for something easy to ride, cheap to run and simple to maintain. Some modern bikes fit the bill - CG125, GS125, etc., but are much too expensive when bought new or newish. The only cheap old ones I had viewed were in an awful state. The little Honda came as a great relief as the pushbike was becoming a bit much.
That relief only last for a few days. I was just getting used to its mild ways, the need to keep the momentum up, when the starting went difficult. One new spark plug - amazingly easy to fit, by the way - didn't solve it. The points were heavily spotted with carbon. One very good point then emerged - a set of C90 points from the breakers went straight in. I could just imagine approaching the local flash Honda dealer and asking for parts for a 1970 bike they had doubtless never heard of. Interchangeability of parts with C90's makes the bike a very practical proposition.
New spark and points helped the starting but then it would conk out without any warning. My old heart didn't need that fright! I cleaned the fuel tank, pipe and carb out but there was hardly any debris there. Being an old hand, I decided the condenser was to blame. A car item (less than a quid) was wired in and, bingo, all systems go.
Though the SL could never be called fast, the high bars were very irritating to someone used to sensible motorcycles. They were a rather odd diameter, took some sifting through my collection of old British bits to find a flat set of bars. Off a Norman Nippy, or something similarly obscure, I think! That was more like it, the seat still surprisingly plush and the pegs well placed, if like me, you're on the small side.
The next thing I noticed was that the bike would top out at about 55mph - with the engine screaming and vibrating away in fourth gear. Evidently geared to run up near vertical cliffs. Another visit to the breakers secured a newish chain and sprocket set - just as well as the old chain had some tight spots. The larger engine sprocket gave taller gearing, an indicated 65mph coming up on the speedo. 50mph cruising was much more relaxed. Whilst at the breakers I also bought a newish set of tyres to replace the plastic junk that came with the bike - whether they aged badly or were the OE rubbish I know not.
After a good cleaning session, I was pretty pleased with my new purchase. Even more so when I worked out that fuel was an astonishing 115mpg! Small though the Honda was, it was capable of doing 150 miles in one sitting before the discomfort became too great. Then it was into a fuel station, gas up, walk around for five minutes until I was ready for another session. One time I was so engrossed in riding up the east coast that I ended up 400 miles away from home!
The problem was getting back. Most of the generator's power goes to keeping the ignition working, very little left for the lighting. The horn's a particularly pathetic squeak. This meant avoiding riding on unlit roads at night. As the bike wasn't up to motorway work, this meant I had no chance of reaching home before the sun disappeared. As I'm a widower I didn't have to worry about a panicking wife. A bed and breakfast sufficed, though the landlady couldn't believe I'd come so far on such a small bike. She still made me take off my shoes before I could cross the threshold.
The next morning I left with a song in my heart, the little Honda rustling along as if it too was happy to be out and above. I then almost had a heart attack when some clown in a Cavalier tried to cross my path without warning. The small SLS drums didn't inspire, but I managed to twitch around the back of the horror. The car driver then slammed on his brakes, shoved his head out of the window and screamed abuse at me. Couldn't hear much through the lid but the popping eyes and red face indicated he wasn't a happy bunny. You can't help the blind, I always say.
I did notice that after a 100 miles of hard riding the Honda ran very hot. Clutch drag set in if this coincided with entering a town centre. Doing the kangaroo hop at my age isn't quite the done thing, is it? Some adjustment of the clutch cable sufficed but I had to remember to readjust it when the motor had cooled down. These kind of minor irritants seem par for the course on old motorcycles. Pay your money and take your choice.
During the summer the bike was used every day, though many times for just hopping around town. Certain things emerged. The oil needing changing every 700 miles to stop the engine and gearbox going temperamental. Given fresh oil it ran with a very nice rustle indeed! The spark plug didn't want to last for more than 2500 miles. Couldn't find any reason for this, it wasn't oiling up or anything. The exhaust valve started tapping if not adjusted every 1000 miles (easy enough) whilst the inlet valve never needed any attention. Odd, I can only assume that the former was becoming a bit hot. One area that lacked the step-thru's practicality was the absence of full chain enclosure - adjustment needed every 200 miles, or so. Other than these things, the bike just whirred away in a typical Oriental manner.
At the end of the summer there was some heavy rain and I skidded off the bike on the polished road surface. Landed on my knee with a lot of skin scraped away. The CL could be kicked straight without too much effort and I rode to the local hospital, expecting tea and sympathy. Received three different lectures about someone of my great age riding motorcycles. Cheek!
The next day I decided to sort my mind out by going for a long ride. Togged up in several layers of waterproofs I didn't really mind the thunder and lightning show. Towards the end of the seventy mile journey, the Honda started to stutter but we made it back home and the next day it ran fine.
I managed to ride most of the time in the Autumn but the heavy winter months were a bit too much - just short trips when there was a weak sun in the sky. The Honda didn't like being neglected, needing many kicks if it hadn't been started for a week - rather like me, going all stiff if I don't have a good walk every day. February 1998 was thankfully mild and sunny, beating all the record books!
I had spent some time getting the alloy and chrome up to a mirror shine, T-cutting the paint back to its former glory and going over a myriad of minor items. Many people thought it must be some new retro model aimed at the sub-125cc sector and were amazed to learn it was 28 years old! Some hardcore bikers went away muttering darkly when I revealed how cheap were fuel, consumables and insurance. Don't know how long it will last but I shall try to keep it going for as long as I am able to ride it.
George Newyn
Monday, 9 March 2015
Kawasaki Z440: Rotten Reality
My mate, Smithy, was a big bloke who just didn't
look right on the small and compact Z440. Every time I saw him
on the bike I pointed this out to him. After about three months
the message got through his prematurely grey hair into what was
left of his brain (too much wine and too many divorces - you know
the type!). The bike was up for grabs and perfectly suited to
this skinny weasel. Nearly twenty years old, with eleven owners
in the registration document, the speedo only showed 23000 miles.
I sat on the little twin, felt immediately at home and decided
we were soul mates. Handed over the 500 sovs without further ado,
making Smithy go all suspicious! Nothing like leaving a trail
of paranoia in one's wake, is there?
The Z440 can best be summed as a typical mid-capacity vertical twin in the mould of the milder Triumph and BSA twins of the sixties. As a son of seventies Japanese engineering it added good reliability and reasonable longevity to the genre. Though it could knock up more than the ton, speed wasn't its game, having more low down and midrange torque than most such devices. Its handling revelled in stability rather than fast turning, but that just made it a very safe bike to ride in all conditions.
Okay, the basic, perhaps somewhat soggy, package had, along the way, been upgraded - Girling shocks, stiffer springs and flatter bars. Nothing too expensive or extreme, but just sufficient added stiffness in travel movement and forward redistribution of rider weight to bring out the best qualities that the tubular frame of utterly conventional structure and geometry might possess.
Both the stock stands and exhaust system had a tendency to dig into bumpy country lane curves when the Z was ridden with a touch of elan but the former had been cut back and the bike sported the obligatory loud two into one exhaust system - in all its rust and matt black glory. To be honest, the latter left me with earache and a nervous twitch - I was a very happy man when I bought a new Kawasaki exhaust system for fifty quid when a dealer was having a closing down sale. Performance, at the top end, increased, allowing about 110mph on the flickering speedo - even after I'd added a few dents with the hammer to aid ground clearance.
General riding gave about 60mpg and it took a lot of throttle madness to get the bike below 55mpg. The engine just didn't feel right when revved really hard. The counterbalancer's chain whipped itself into the kind of self-destructive frenzy that gave out more eyeball popping vibes that a similarly thrashed 500 Triumph twin of my acquaintance (a mate's Tiger 100). The Z440 couldn't burn the Tiger off, though it won out in long distance cruising - much more reliable and less vibratory at 80-85mph. Handling was about equal.
The Z was one of those bikes that neither excelled nor annoyed in any one particular area. Generally easy going, it could cruise through town, whip through the bends and loiter on the motorway without looking like an accident about to happen. The parameters of its performance, and age of design, were brought home to me one sunny Sunday when I was thoroughly whipped by a youth on a TZR125 (I presume it was derestricted).
Trying to emulate his line through 70mph bends had the old Kawasaki squirming on the edge of its cheap tyres, the modified exhaust fighting with the tarmac and tears running out of my eyes as I refused to change up from third, knowing that the sudden power jerk would throw us right off the road. The TZR accelerated so much more rapidly that even the theoretical higher top speed of the Z wasn't worth a damn.
I tried to console myself with thoughts of superior longevity and economy but it didn't really work; a bit too undignified to be burnt off by some spotty youth just out of school. I abused the Z for the next couple of days, doing the commuting chores in town until I made the clutch overheat, drag something chronic...
Turned out the engine oil had turned milky white! When I went to take out the sump bolt I found its edges were so worn I couldn't get a spanner to hold. The molegrips slipped off, took a large chunk out of my palm as they snapped shut. The chisel and hammer were reverently unleased and the recalcitrant bugger finally turned! Not just turned, actually fell out, my hand and arm covered in noxious muck that was once upon a time engine lubricant. Some of this got into the cut in my palm, causing an infection, strange liquid seeping out of my hand - could've made a fortune in the bible belt claiming to have a stigma!
Meanwhile, I sorted through my stash of aged spares for something that could be Araldited back in, like the one that had fallen out! Not wanting to go through the same routine every time I changed the oil, I drilled the replacement out, knocked in a new thread for a smaller bolt that could be removed whenever I wanted to do a lube change. A lot easier than having a helicoil fitted into the sump.
When that was all fixed, the engine at least had the common decency to purr back into life with a contented growl, a perfect clutch and much improved gearbox, though it was still nowhere near as good as the even older Tiger's. Ah, pleasant days again! After a few weeks, riding the Z was second nature, no nasty surprises hidden away. Even the Triumph owner got off the Jap twin with a big grin on his face!
The single front disc was soon giving hassle. What a surprise! A mate had a GT750 front end that was persuaded on. This left the poor old Z dangerously overbraked - only had to look at the front brake lever to have the forks shaking in the headstock and the front tyre squealing for all it was worth. First time I used it in the wet nothing happened, I pulled harder and the next thing I knew was a hasty departure from the 440's saddle. The landing was painful, but at least my body saved the Kawasaki from any serious damage.
The GT's front end was promptly returned to its owner and I gave him an uncalled-for bollicking for trying to kill me! EBC pads, a bit of disc machining, secondhand Goodridge hose and new fluid added up to a working front brake that was at least predictable (rather like the whole bike) if not exactly heart-stopping in retardation. The back drum wasn't much better, but didn't need any new components as it would already lock up the wheel without much effort.
That sorted, the days rolled by pretty effortlessly, and I had a good laugh at Smithy who must've bought the one XS650 with a dodgy engine in the country. I actually saw him by the roadside, crying over the fact that half the engine internals were splattered over the tarmac. Refused to contemplate towing him home - one such experience more than enough - but gave the old bugger a lift on the pillion. By the time we reached his house, the ungrateful sod was ranting and raving about my riding technique... something to do with crossing over double-white-lines, I think. Silly old codger.
The next little tantrum was the drive chain snapping, just as I was about to charge off to work. I had a spare bit of chain but was sent ballistic when I couldn't get the engine cover off. The screws refused to budge. Had to get a lift into work and put in some serious hammer work on my return. That's one of the problems with old Japs - the manufacturers obviously had a horror of bits falling off, designed everything to corrode solidly together. Great for riding, very naff for maintenance.
After 9000 miles of having fun, generally enjoying myself, the engine began to puff and groan up the steeper hills. I noticed that the cylinder head was weeping a touch of oil and there was the odd puff of smoke on the overrun. Being of a mildly paranoid disposition I diagnosed that the engine was on the way out and happily accepted an offer off Smithy - what I'd paid for the bike plus one XS650 in bits. Smithy has done another 6000 miles without wrecking the Z and I've just managed to shoehorn an XS400 engine into the 650's chassis - a rather perverse combination but the motor just happened to be going for a song and shouldn't be able to push the XS650's chassis fast enough to bring out the infamous speed wobbles.
Given the chance of a low mileage Z440 at a reasonable price, though, I'd grab it with both hands.
Mark Dobbs
The Z440 can best be summed as a typical mid-capacity vertical twin in the mould of the milder Triumph and BSA twins of the sixties. As a son of seventies Japanese engineering it added good reliability and reasonable longevity to the genre. Though it could knock up more than the ton, speed wasn't its game, having more low down and midrange torque than most such devices. Its handling revelled in stability rather than fast turning, but that just made it a very safe bike to ride in all conditions.
Okay, the basic, perhaps somewhat soggy, package had, along the way, been upgraded - Girling shocks, stiffer springs and flatter bars. Nothing too expensive or extreme, but just sufficient added stiffness in travel movement and forward redistribution of rider weight to bring out the best qualities that the tubular frame of utterly conventional structure and geometry might possess.
Both the stock stands and exhaust system had a tendency to dig into bumpy country lane curves when the Z was ridden with a touch of elan but the former had been cut back and the bike sported the obligatory loud two into one exhaust system - in all its rust and matt black glory. To be honest, the latter left me with earache and a nervous twitch - I was a very happy man when I bought a new Kawasaki exhaust system for fifty quid when a dealer was having a closing down sale. Performance, at the top end, increased, allowing about 110mph on the flickering speedo - even after I'd added a few dents with the hammer to aid ground clearance.
General riding gave about 60mpg and it took a lot of throttle madness to get the bike below 55mpg. The engine just didn't feel right when revved really hard. The counterbalancer's chain whipped itself into the kind of self-destructive frenzy that gave out more eyeball popping vibes that a similarly thrashed 500 Triumph twin of my acquaintance (a mate's Tiger 100). The Z440 couldn't burn the Tiger off, though it won out in long distance cruising - much more reliable and less vibratory at 80-85mph. Handling was about equal.
The Z was one of those bikes that neither excelled nor annoyed in any one particular area. Generally easy going, it could cruise through town, whip through the bends and loiter on the motorway without looking like an accident about to happen. The parameters of its performance, and age of design, were brought home to me one sunny Sunday when I was thoroughly whipped by a youth on a TZR125 (I presume it was derestricted).
Trying to emulate his line through 70mph bends had the old Kawasaki squirming on the edge of its cheap tyres, the modified exhaust fighting with the tarmac and tears running out of my eyes as I refused to change up from third, knowing that the sudden power jerk would throw us right off the road. The TZR accelerated so much more rapidly that even the theoretical higher top speed of the Z wasn't worth a damn.
I tried to console myself with thoughts of superior longevity and economy but it didn't really work; a bit too undignified to be burnt off by some spotty youth just out of school. I abused the Z for the next couple of days, doing the commuting chores in town until I made the clutch overheat, drag something chronic...
Turned out the engine oil had turned milky white! When I went to take out the sump bolt I found its edges were so worn I couldn't get a spanner to hold. The molegrips slipped off, took a large chunk out of my palm as they snapped shut. The chisel and hammer were reverently unleased and the recalcitrant bugger finally turned! Not just turned, actually fell out, my hand and arm covered in noxious muck that was once upon a time engine lubricant. Some of this got into the cut in my palm, causing an infection, strange liquid seeping out of my hand - could've made a fortune in the bible belt claiming to have a stigma!
Meanwhile, I sorted through my stash of aged spares for something that could be Araldited back in, like the one that had fallen out! Not wanting to go through the same routine every time I changed the oil, I drilled the replacement out, knocked in a new thread for a smaller bolt that could be removed whenever I wanted to do a lube change. A lot easier than having a helicoil fitted into the sump.
When that was all fixed, the engine at least had the common decency to purr back into life with a contented growl, a perfect clutch and much improved gearbox, though it was still nowhere near as good as the even older Tiger's. Ah, pleasant days again! After a few weeks, riding the Z was second nature, no nasty surprises hidden away. Even the Triumph owner got off the Jap twin with a big grin on his face!
The single front disc was soon giving hassle. What a surprise! A mate had a GT750 front end that was persuaded on. This left the poor old Z dangerously overbraked - only had to look at the front brake lever to have the forks shaking in the headstock and the front tyre squealing for all it was worth. First time I used it in the wet nothing happened, I pulled harder and the next thing I knew was a hasty departure from the 440's saddle. The landing was painful, but at least my body saved the Kawasaki from any serious damage.
The GT's front end was promptly returned to its owner and I gave him an uncalled-for bollicking for trying to kill me! EBC pads, a bit of disc machining, secondhand Goodridge hose and new fluid added up to a working front brake that was at least predictable (rather like the whole bike) if not exactly heart-stopping in retardation. The back drum wasn't much better, but didn't need any new components as it would already lock up the wheel without much effort.
That sorted, the days rolled by pretty effortlessly, and I had a good laugh at Smithy who must've bought the one XS650 with a dodgy engine in the country. I actually saw him by the roadside, crying over the fact that half the engine internals were splattered over the tarmac. Refused to contemplate towing him home - one such experience more than enough - but gave the old bugger a lift on the pillion. By the time we reached his house, the ungrateful sod was ranting and raving about my riding technique... something to do with crossing over double-white-lines, I think. Silly old codger.
The next little tantrum was the drive chain snapping, just as I was about to charge off to work. I had a spare bit of chain but was sent ballistic when I couldn't get the engine cover off. The screws refused to budge. Had to get a lift into work and put in some serious hammer work on my return. That's one of the problems with old Japs - the manufacturers obviously had a horror of bits falling off, designed everything to corrode solidly together. Great for riding, very naff for maintenance.
After 9000 miles of having fun, generally enjoying myself, the engine began to puff and groan up the steeper hills. I noticed that the cylinder head was weeping a touch of oil and there was the odd puff of smoke on the overrun. Being of a mildly paranoid disposition I diagnosed that the engine was on the way out and happily accepted an offer off Smithy - what I'd paid for the bike plus one XS650 in bits. Smithy has done another 6000 miles without wrecking the Z and I've just managed to shoehorn an XS400 engine into the 650's chassis - a rather perverse combination but the motor just happened to be going for a song and shouldn't be able to push the XS650's chassis fast enough to bring out the infamous speed wobbles.
Given the chance of a low mileage Z440 at a reasonable price, though, I'd grab it with both hands.
Mark Dobbs
Yam XS250: Virtual Twin
Horrible was how I felt fifteen minutes after
buying a Yam XS250. It was an ancient old thing but quite nicely
polished, a well put together cycle. Testing out its limits on
a fave stretch of country road, I found that appearances didn't
amount to much. Hurling the lightweight twin right over, the rubber
going weak at its edges, the 2-1 exhaust dug in. Catching on the
tarmac, it tried to hurl the bike sideways. I put some muscle
into getting it upright and going in the right direction. If the
curve hadn't tightened up I might've survived. The bike shuffled
on to the grass verge, lost all grip and dropped downwards.
I did something nasty to my right wrist and knee on landing. So rapid the fall from grace that it felt like I'd actually blacked out. The Yamaha - the little sod - had a relatively easy time of it. Sliding over the grass until it finally lost momentum by destroying a rotten bit of wooden fencing. I hobbled over to the thing, would've given it a proper kicking if I had two good legs to stand on! Eventually, the bike was upright and I was able to wobble home at a preposterously mediocre velocity.
Damage was bent pegs, twisted bars, shortened levers where they'd broken off and a few new dents. A used set of handlebars and a bit of hammer work sorted it out. Took several visits to the hospital before I was in a similarly happy state. My refusal of a tetanus shot causing the doc to prescribe such a nasty antibiotic combo that it left me dead to the world. In no fit state to ride a motorcycle.
Took about a month until I finally got around to speed testing the little Yamaha. Just about do the ton. After 85mph a rather large wobble occurred. If a bump was hit, turned into a bit of tank-slapper. The bars trying to pummel their way out of my already weakened grip. Later, giving the bike a good kicking revealed some play in the swinging arm bearings. Having had this hassle on previous bikes I decided to leave it well alone until things went desperate...
Weaving along the M1 at three in the morning after a mind bending party in the woods, I thought I'd see if I could better the ton. One hell of a speed wobble resulted. The poor old XS was wobbling over two lanes of the motorway. I was panicked out of my mind, not knowing if I should brake or sit it out. There was a long bend up front, dazzling headlamps from oncoming cars beginning to frazzle my vision. Ended up, as I braked viciously, that I didn't know where I was. My so-called mates would say this was nothing unusual. Only I didn't usually disintegrate aboard a buckling bronco of a motorcycle at high speed.
The Yamaha finally pulled itself together at about 50mph. The stress from the incident so heavy that it never again ran straight and true. There was nothing for it but to take a hammer to the swinging arm spindle. I well knew the horrors to come (from the seized in spindle) and when the local breaker offered to fix it for forty notes, including new bearings and used spindle (if necessary) I went for it.
The local breaker's been there for decades, seen it all. About 100kg of fat, a grotty old beard obscures most of his face and he has a voice that inspires fear. He has a reputation for cheap prices and work that owes more to brute force than skill. Just what I needed! Typically, the spindle came out with a few taps, as straight as when it came out of the factory. Less than half an hour's work that I could've done myself. Oh well!
At this point the breaker had a nasty surprise for me. No, he wasn't into sodomizing youths like some dealers but pointed out that the back wheel's hub had lots of tiny cracks. Alloy welding would probably work, suggested he, but the used back wheel he had to hand would be much better and jolly reasonable at thirty notes. He'd even swap the tyres over. I cursed the Yamaha's shoddy alloy and the way I liked to speed into the house - up half a foot high stone step!
Poorer but no wiser I rode home. After all that expense I expected brilliant handling right the way up to the top speed. Shocked to find that the back end was all over the road at 60mph. A bit more kicking revealed that the back wheel's bearings were on the way out! The breaker found this highly amusing, warned me that it was dead easy to crack the hub when knocking the old bearings out. He'd fix it up for me for thirty notes. I should buy a tee-shirt with sucker written on it!
After spending a hundred quid I finally had a motorcycle that didn't speed wobble any longer. I'd also fitted on some original downpipes with a pair of mega's to sort out the ground clearance problems. At around 360lbs, the XS could be flung around with relative ease. I did find that the front tyre would try to wash out when accelerating out of bends. Not that the Yamaha ever managed mind bending acceleration but it was as fast as most low end cars and would take on 250 Superdreams and the like.
Some good points. Fuel was exceptional - around 70mpg average - but the airfilter was full of holes and the silencers almost straight through! Consumption of the Taiwanese tyres, cheap chain and EBC pads was marginal, about the same as my Honda C50! Engine maintenance was merely a case of changing the oil every 1500 miles, everything else was so worn no adjustment needed. Handling was brilliant for charging through town and motor really liked to be revved out through the gears. The harder the throttle was used the smoother it became - pistons moving up and down alternatively, no balancers.
The pity of it was that the chassis appeared to be falling apart rapidly. About six weeks after fixing the back end, the steering head bearing went all loose. Tightened down the stem but that made the handling even more horrendous! The bearings were pitted, devoid of any grease. A nice set of taper-rollers bashed in but needed perfect tensioning of the stem bolt before they worked properly. Once that was done, the front end attained unknown precision. On a bike of this power and weight, such steering accuracy allowed me to ride in a thoroughly mad way.
For all of three weeks when the front wheel's bearings went down. Sure enough, I cracked up the hub knocking them out - determined, as I was, not to give the breaker any more of my money. Some hope, he grinned widely after receiving forty quid for a replacement front wheel which came with a newish disc, calipers and pads. The old disc was just beginning to squeal in a menacingly manner, probably money well spent!
Of course, pissing around with the forks revealed that their seals were seeping oil. Had to take the forks down, put in new bushes and seals, added a set of gaiters. Finally, much poorer and only a little wiser, the chassis was fully sorted and the bike ready for the road... Someone up there doesn't like me, the original shocks started weeping oil as well and went very soggy! Used Koni's (yes, from the grinning breaker who was now proudly driving a big BMW cage) fixed that.
Oddly, the actual chassis components - petrol tank, mudguards, etc - were in fine fettle, perhaps replaced along the line as they certainly didn't seem to reflect the 49000 miles that were now on the clock. Neither did the engine, which veritably purred away with good heart, confounding my Superdream mounted mates with its toughness.
Note to the cynical and worldly wise - the wiring showed every sign of being redone some time in the near past, the switches were non-standard and the HT leads and caps rubber rather than plastic. Many XS owners find the electrics, especially the ignition circuit, both troubling and perplexing. Intermittent faults difficult to diagnose, often caused by the cut-out switches shorting out. If it hasn't already been done, take them out of the circuit! The Cibie headlamp conversion was just about up to modern standards, the air-horns a useful addition - wakes the cagers up, makes them think some artic's about to mash them! The odd jerk tried to run me off the road when he realised his mistake, but I was usually long gone. How I yearn for a police siren!
If life didn't start off all that well will the XS, the more I've used it, the longer I've owned it, the more fond of the little twin I've become. I do have some serious tackle as well - a street fighter FZR600 - that kills the traffic like nothing else, but that's often too much hassle to ride! Much easier to leap upon the 250 and bumble around town at a rapid pace - by the time I've undone the FZR's three locks, given it a few minutes to warm up and got the necessary body armour on, I'm usually half way to my destination on the XS! If the weather's dire it's much easier to ride as I don't have to think about taking a handful of throttle and costs at least half as much to run. Good one, Mr Yamaha!
Dave Wilson
I did something nasty to my right wrist and knee on landing. So rapid the fall from grace that it felt like I'd actually blacked out. The Yamaha - the little sod - had a relatively easy time of it. Sliding over the grass until it finally lost momentum by destroying a rotten bit of wooden fencing. I hobbled over to the thing, would've given it a proper kicking if I had two good legs to stand on! Eventually, the bike was upright and I was able to wobble home at a preposterously mediocre velocity.
Damage was bent pegs, twisted bars, shortened levers where they'd broken off and a few new dents. A used set of handlebars and a bit of hammer work sorted it out. Took several visits to the hospital before I was in a similarly happy state. My refusal of a tetanus shot causing the doc to prescribe such a nasty antibiotic combo that it left me dead to the world. In no fit state to ride a motorcycle.
Took about a month until I finally got around to speed testing the little Yamaha. Just about do the ton. After 85mph a rather large wobble occurred. If a bump was hit, turned into a bit of tank-slapper. The bars trying to pummel their way out of my already weakened grip. Later, giving the bike a good kicking revealed some play in the swinging arm bearings. Having had this hassle on previous bikes I decided to leave it well alone until things went desperate...
Weaving along the M1 at three in the morning after a mind bending party in the woods, I thought I'd see if I could better the ton. One hell of a speed wobble resulted. The poor old XS was wobbling over two lanes of the motorway. I was panicked out of my mind, not knowing if I should brake or sit it out. There was a long bend up front, dazzling headlamps from oncoming cars beginning to frazzle my vision. Ended up, as I braked viciously, that I didn't know where I was. My so-called mates would say this was nothing unusual. Only I didn't usually disintegrate aboard a buckling bronco of a motorcycle at high speed.
The Yamaha finally pulled itself together at about 50mph. The stress from the incident so heavy that it never again ran straight and true. There was nothing for it but to take a hammer to the swinging arm spindle. I well knew the horrors to come (from the seized in spindle) and when the local breaker offered to fix it for forty notes, including new bearings and used spindle (if necessary) I went for it.
The local breaker's been there for decades, seen it all. About 100kg of fat, a grotty old beard obscures most of his face and he has a voice that inspires fear. He has a reputation for cheap prices and work that owes more to brute force than skill. Just what I needed! Typically, the spindle came out with a few taps, as straight as when it came out of the factory. Less than half an hour's work that I could've done myself. Oh well!
At this point the breaker had a nasty surprise for me. No, he wasn't into sodomizing youths like some dealers but pointed out that the back wheel's hub had lots of tiny cracks. Alloy welding would probably work, suggested he, but the used back wheel he had to hand would be much better and jolly reasonable at thirty notes. He'd even swap the tyres over. I cursed the Yamaha's shoddy alloy and the way I liked to speed into the house - up half a foot high stone step!
Poorer but no wiser I rode home. After all that expense I expected brilliant handling right the way up to the top speed. Shocked to find that the back end was all over the road at 60mph. A bit more kicking revealed that the back wheel's bearings were on the way out! The breaker found this highly amusing, warned me that it was dead easy to crack the hub when knocking the old bearings out. He'd fix it up for me for thirty notes. I should buy a tee-shirt with sucker written on it!
After spending a hundred quid I finally had a motorcycle that didn't speed wobble any longer. I'd also fitted on some original downpipes with a pair of mega's to sort out the ground clearance problems. At around 360lbs, the XS could be flung around with relative ease. I did find that the front tyre would try to wash out when accelerating out of bends. Not that the Yamaha ever managed mind bending acceleration but it was as fast as most low end cars and would take on 250 Superdreams and the like.
Some good points. Fuel was exceptional - around 70mpg average - but the airfilter was full of holes and the silencers almost straight through! Consumption of the Taiwanese tyres, cheap chain and EBC pads was marginal, about the same as my Honda C50! Engine maintenance was merely a case of changing the oil every 1500 miles, everything else was so worn no adjustment needed. Handling was brilliant for charging through town and motor really liked to be revved out through the gears. The harder the throttle was used the smoother it became - pistons moving up and down alternatively, no balancers.
The pity of it was that the chassis appeared to be falling apart rapidly. About six weeks after fixing the back end, the steering head bearing went all loose. Tightened down the stem but that made the handling even more horrendous! The bearings were pitted, devoid of any grease. A nice set of taper-rollers bashed in but needed perfect tensioning of the stem bolt before they worked properly. Once that was done, the front end attained unknown precision. On a bike of this power and weight, such steering accuracy allowed me to ride in a thoroughly mad way.
For all of three weeks when the front wheel's bearings went down. Sure enough, I cracked up the hub knocking them out - determined, as I was, not to give the breaker any more of my money. Some hope, he grinned widely after receiving forty quid for a replacement front wheel which came with a newish disc, calipers and pads. The old disc was just beginning to squeal in a menacingly manner, probably money well spent!
Of course, pissing around with the forks revealed that their seals were seeping oil. Had to take the forks down, put in new bushes and seals, added a set of gaiters. Finally, much poorer and only a little wiser, the chassis was fully sorted and the bike ready for the road... Someone up there doesn't like me, the original shocks started weeping oil as well and went very soggy! Used Koni's (yes, from the grinning breaker who was now proudly driving a big BMW cage) fixed that.
Oddly, the actual chassis components - petrol tank, mudguards, etc - were in fine fettle, perhaps replaced along the line as they certainly didn't seem to reflect the 49000 miles that were now on the clock. Neither did the engine, which veritably purred away with good heart, confounding my Superdream mounted mates with its toughness.
Note to the cynical and worldly wise - the wiring showed every sign of being redone some time in the near past, the switches were non-standard and the HT leads and caps rubber rather than plastic. Many XS owners find the electrics, especially the ignition circuit, both troubling and perplexing. Intermittent faults difficult to diagnose, often caused by the cut-out switches shorting out. If it hasn't already been done, take them out of the circuit! The Cibie headlamp conversion was just about up to modern standards, the air-horns a useful addition - wakes the cagers up, makes them think some artic's about to mash them! The odd jerk tried to run me off the road when he realised his mistake, but I was usually long gone. How I yearn for a police siren!
If life didn't start off all that well will the XS, the more I've used it, the longer I've owned it, the more fond of the little twin I've become. I do have some serious tackle as well - a street fighter FZR600 - that kills the traffic like nothing else, but that's often too much hassle to ride! Much easier to leap upon the 250 and bumble around town at a rapid pace - by the time I've undone the FZR's three locks, given it a few minutes to warm up and got the necessary body armour on, I'm usually half way to my destination on the XS! If the weather's dire it's much easier to ride as I don't have to think about taking a handful of throttle and costs at least half as much to run. Good one, Mr Yamaha!
Dave Wilson
Honda CB125J: Old Jewel
Flashback to a misspent youth. 1976 the year,
just seventeen years old and a one-owner Honda CB125J that had
just broken through 10,000 miles. My first bike. And a very pleasant
experience it was. For the most part, a sprained wrist and gravel
rash knee, all part of the learning experience. In terms of numbers
- 65mph, 100mpg - the CB wasn't that impressive, the OHC thumper
mill always a little vibratory and never really settling down
to a relaxed thrum. Probably just my twitchy right wrist.
Forward to 1997. Wandering around the local dealers, what do I spy but a CB125J. As tatty as could be but I couldn't hide the big grin. As I'd turned up on a CBR600 the dealer looked at me as if I'd gone completely insanely but quickly recovered, telling me they were a classic in the making and with a little bit of work I'd also have a useful runabout. It was only after I signed the cheque that I came to my senses (400 notes poorer!).
The bike at least ran - after riding the CBR home and fixing a lift back I had my first ride. Culture shock time! It felt tiny, more like a bicycle than a motorcycle, and the only thing that seemed to happen when I opened the throttle was an increase in noise. After rather intense examination of the speedo I worked out that speed was, indeed, being gained! The mileometer clicked on to 50,000 miles halfway from home.
If it took a while to wind itself up to a half decent velocity, stopping was even more lackadaisical! A drum at each end had seemed like the height of advanced technology when I bought the bike in '76 but now I couldn't believe how appalling they were. My braking distances, trained by a diet of replicas, were hopelessly out of step with the Honda's abilities. Several near misses and a couple of enraged cagers later, I learnt my lesson!
Everything about the bike was basic in the extreme, almost vintage. The lights and horn were definitely in the latter category. The gearbox was more false neutrals than forward gears, but I did recall that the first bike had been like that and all it took was a bit of practice to perfect the change. Hustling through the charming town of Luton, near the end of my trip, it suddenly all came together and I charged through minor gaps at a speed and ferocity that would've smashed the CBR's plastic to bits. One advantage of buying an old hack is that you've got nothing to lose if you hit something!
Swapping machines was a bit traumatising, as often as not I'd give the CBR's front brake a muscular, desperate squeeze, only to met with a howling tyre, skidding front end and near heart attack. I started using the Honda for the 20 mile (round trip) daily commute and because the rush-hour was so desperate it was actually quicker, sneaking through tiny gaps and often taking chunks out of the pavement. It was more a matter of massive effort on the bars than using the brakes whenever I wanted to stop in a hurry, easier and far safer to throw the bike around things than to try to brake.
Of course, when a car slammed sideways into my path there was nowhere to go but into the side of it. The ancient forks, already weary from too many miles, snapped right off - but only after the front wheel was buckled out of shape. The cage, some expensive BMW, had a series of large dents in it, the owner ranting and raving away about Hell's Angels. I told him that flattery wouldn't get him off the hook and all but destroying a valuable classic was going to cost him dear. However, motorcycle insurance being what it is I decided not to claim and fixed the front end up with even older Triumph 250 Trophy forks and TLS brake.
This made a remarkable improvement to stopping distances, the Triumph's drum still not up to modern standards but designed for a bike 100lbs heavier and 25mph faster. The Honda would now stop on a dime from sub 50mph speeds, which was all I needed in town. The commute became yet faster and, curiously, even more economical at 120mpg against 100mpg with the old front end. Why? Could only be because I was running the engine in a more efficient rev range.
As winter drew closer I was thankful to have an old if dependable hack to spare the CBR from the chores - all the money I saved by using the CB went on some flash carbon fibre bodywork and a noisy 4-1 exhaust for the big Honda. A truly splendid looking and running device emerged but one that was actually more of a pain during the commuting chores. Go figure.
The little Honda had at its heart a tough single cylinder motor that originally emerged in the mid-sixties as a 150cc unit. Manual camchain adjustment, an old-fashioned set of points and a sporadic need for a new spark plug, along with 500 mile oil changes, were its main needs. There were also a couple of valves, with easy to adjust tappets, but they had so thoroughly worn in their mating surfaces that they didn't need much attention. I went over the bike carefully every time I did a 500 mile oil change and it repaid these efforts with splendid reliability.
Until the heavy rains came when the mill kept cutting out. This was down to the ancient HT lead losing most of its insulation and a dodgy coil, cheaply replaced via the breakers. The one thing that stopped me riding was the need to use the lights at night - they just weren't up to modern standards. Not so much that I couldn't see where I was going but that the cagers acted like I was invisible. The marginal electrics would've gone up in flames if I'd tried a more powerful lamp.
Nevertheless, given its age and mileage, a remarkable bit of engineering that, believe it or not, I really enjoy riding.
Charlie Slade
Forward to 1997. Wandering around the local dealers, what do I spy but a CB125J. As tatty as could be but I couldn't hide the big grin. As I'd turned up on a CBR600 the dealer looked at me as if I'd gone completely insanely but quickly recovered, telling me they were a classic in the making and with a little bit of work I'd also have a useful runabout. It was only after I signed the cheque that I came to my senses (400 notes poorer!).
The bike at least ran - after riding the CBR home and fixing a lift back I had my first ride. Culture shock time! It felt tiny, more like a bicycle than a motorcycle, and the only thing that seemed to happen when I opened the throttle was an increase in noise. After rather intense examination of the speedo I worked out that speed was, indeed, being gained! The mileometer clicked on to 50,000 miles halfway from home.
If it took a while to wind itself up to a half decent velocity, stopping was even more lackadaisical! A drum at each end had seemed like the height of advanced technology when I bought the bike in '76 but now I couldn't believe how appalling they were. My braking distances, trained by a diet of replicas, were hopelessly out of step with the Honda's abilities. Several near misses and a couple of enraged cagers later, I learnt my lesson!
Everything about the bike was basic in the extreme, almost vintage. The lights and horn were definitely in the latter category. The gearbox was more false neutrals than forward gears, but I did recall that the first bike had been like that and all it took was a bit of practice to perfect the change. Hustling through the charming town of Luton, near the end of my trip, it suddenly all came together and I charged through minor gaps at a speed and ferocity that would've smashed the CBR's plastic to bits. One advantage of buying an old hack is that you've got nothing to lose if you hit something!
Swapping machines was a bit traumatising, as often as not I'd give the CBR's front brake a muscular, desperate squeeze, only to met with a howling tyre, skidding front end and near heart attack. I started using the Honda for the 20 mile (round trip) daily commute and because the rush-hour was so desperate it was actually quicker, sneaking through tiny gaps and often taking chunks out of the pavement. It was more a matter of massive effort on the bars than using the brakes whenever I wanted to stop in a hurry, easier and far safer to throw the bike around things than to try to brake.
Of course, when a car slammed sideways into my path there was nowhere to go but into the side of it. The ancient forks, already weary from too many miles, snapped right off - but only after the front wheel was buckled out of shape. The cage, some expensive BMW, had a series of large dents in it, the owner ranting and raving away about Hell's Angels. I told him that flattery wouldn't get him off the hook and all but destroying a valuable classic was going to cost him dear. However, motorcycle insurance being what it is I decided not to claim and fixed the front end up with even older Triumph 250 Trophy forks and TLS brake.
This made a remarkable improvement to stopping distances, the Triumph's drum still not up to modern standards but designed for a bike 100lbs heavier and 25mph faster. The Honda would now stop on a dime from sub 50mph speeds, which was all I needed in town. The commute became yet faster and, curiously, even more economical at 120mpg against 100mpg with the old front end. Why? Could only be because I was running the engine in a more efficient rev range.
As winter drew closer I was thankful to have an old if dependable hack to spare the CBR from the chores - all the money I saved by using the CB went on some flash carbon fibre bodywork and a noisy 4-1 exhaust for the big Honda. A truly splendid looking and running device emerged but one that was actually more of a pain during the commuting chores. Go figure.
The little Honda had at its heart a tough single cylinder motor that originally emerged in the mid-sixties as a 150cc unit. Manual camchain adjustment, an old-fashioned set of points and a sporadic need for a new spark plug, along with 500 mile oil changes, were its main needs. There were also a couple of valves, with easy to adjust tappets, but they had so thoroughly worn in their mating surfaces that they didn't need much attention. I went over the bike carefully every time I did a 500 mile oil change and it repaid these efforts with splendid reliability.
Until the heavy rains came when the mill kept cutting out. This was down to the ancient HT lead losing most of its insulation and a dodgy coil, cheaply replaced via the breakers. The one thing that stopped me riding was the need to use the lights at night - they just weren't up to modern standards. Not so much that I couldn't see where I was going but that the cagers acted like I was invisible. The marginal electrics would've gone up in flames if I'd tried a more powerful lamp.
Nevertheless, given its age and mileage, a remarkable bit of engineering that, believe it or not, I really enjoy riding.
Charlie Slade