1992 is the celebration of my 25th year on motorcycles. Not many a year has gone by when I haven't had at least one machine in the garage. I estimate I must have done well over half a million miles on various motorcycles. Some have been good, others terrible and many merely adequate. But despite the vagaries of the machinery, the underlying motorcycling experience has been satisfying, exciting and invigorating. It would have to be to sustain me through the bad times!
It ail started in 1967. I was a late comer to motorcycles, being 19 at the time and forced on to two wheels when a job change meant a daily 15 mile commute. It was summer time, there were no helmet laws and an old Tiger Cub for a tenner seemed perfect for the job. In the ensuing year with the Triumph I fell off six times, rebuilt the engine three times and had countless on the road breakdowns. Apart from that, I had a great time, even commuting through the winter didn’t seem to faze me!
Another job even further away, with a lot more money coming in, meant a nice new Honda CD175 was the order of the day. A marvellous bike after the Triumph, totally reliable for the next 42000 miles and two years. Our relationship ended when I was knocked off by a vicar in a Morris Minor. The old gent broke my leg and all but flattened the Honda. I soon found out on whose side was God, they reckoned it was my fault that the vicar had not seen me and that I was lucky to get off without being prosecuted.
I lost my job, being off work for so long, and.it wasn’t until early 1970 that I was able to find work again, albeit at a much reduced wage. I was persuaded by the local dealer that a low mileage Suzuki T250 was just what was needed to perk up my spirits. My first two stroke. I had passed my test on the Honda so could have bought a bigger bike, but wanted to test my bravery aboard something smaller. The accident had left me dubious about the merits of motorcycling.
I was forced to ride everywhere at maximum revs with a fighter jet trail of smoke left behind me. Riding slowly produced ominous rattles and fouled spark plugs. The handling was poor, with much more wallowing than on the old CD but the brakes were better and the speed mind warping at the time. I soon forgot about the accident and was convinced I would never give up motorcycling, come what may.
Come 1972 I was ready to move up into the big league. A huge jump to a lovely new Honda CB750. I was tempted by the Suzuki 500 twin but the impracticalities of stroker life played heavily upon my mind. The Honda was something else. Frighteningly heavy and large, the four cylinder engine was deceptively smooth and powerful. It made 80mph seem like 60mph, until you wanted to go around corners when it would pitch and wallow all over the place. The Jap tyres were lethal in the wet, as was the inadequate single front disc. I spent a lot of money on tyres, suspension and brakes sorting the Honda over the next couple of years. The gearbox had quickly lost its precision and the valves needed 500 mile adjustments of their tappets, whilst the clutch made strange noises, but apart from that I did over 45000 miles in less than two years. The bike was very expensive to run, going through tyres, chains and petrol like there was no tomorrow - I was single, earning good money and with few other outgoings, so it did not worry me.
I was seduced by the new Kawasaki 900. A new 1974 Z900 was purchased, getting a good trade in price for the near immaculate Honda (the whole exhaust system had been replaced 11 months into the warranty). Big had to be better, I told myself. Performance was mind bending but handling was totally naff. After the first couple of 110mph speed wobbles I had to restrain my riding to sub 100mph speeds. Perhaps because of this the engine lasted for 75000 miles in three years with no major problems. Even suspension mods and better tyres failed to cure the wobbles.
A year before the Z900 was sold I was shot-gunned into marriage. With a kid on the way in 1977 the big Kawasaki had to go to a new home and a machine more appropriate to my financially stretched state found. This turned out to be a 1976 Honda CB360G5. I had assumed that it would follow in the path of previous Hondas as regards reliability, but after adding 6500 miles to the mere 12300 already on the clock the camshaft bearings went. A pity as it was a pleasant bike to commute on, having adequate speed and light handling. I was in no state to buy a replacement so another engine was bought from a breaker. This lasted for 25000 miles and the beginning of the new decade. By then the whole machine was decomposing beneath me and was only fit for scrap.
I was forced to sign the HP for a nearly new Honda CG125. I was all set for a slightly older 550 Honda four but the wife put her foot down, with another kid on the way the last thing I was supposed to do was enjoy myself riding motorcycles. The CG lasted for three years and nearly 39000 miles, which was pretty good going as the purgatory of riding such a device was only made bearable by buzzing it flat out everywhere. It was brilliant for slipping through narrow gaps in traffic but little else.
1984 was a year of much sorrow for myself. I was booted out of the house, divorced and crippled with huge maintenance payments. I was forced further down the spiral, on to an ancient Honda C50 which had seen better days. Still, it managed over 10000 miles of commuting in ten months before expiring in a heap of smoke and puddle of oil. I left the poor thing where it had fallen over in the gutter.
1984 was also the year Kawasaki’s GPz900 made it into the dealers. I was viewing one wistfully when the salesman came over and all but dragged me on to the test machine. My 36 year old brain was damaged beyond all repair by the quick blast up the road. The next thing I knew I had written out a cheque for the deposit and signed the HP form for the balance. I could collect the machine in a week when the cheque had cleared!
I had a clear choice. Stop paying the maintenance cheques for the ex-wife or continue a life of near destitution... That GPz changed my whole life. Not even an avalanche of nasty letters from the ex-wife's lawyer could dent my new found enthusiasm for life. Back then, the courts could not force employers to deduct maintenance payments from your wage check, so when a new job came up on the other side of the country, I quietly moved out.
I kept the Kawasaki for four years and 92000 miles. There were a lot of problems with the oil supply to the camshafts and the tensioner went twice, but these were done under warranty (even after it had expired) so were more an inconvenience than problem. The GPz was light years ahead of anything else I'd owned in both handling and performance. It introduced me to continental touring and was the only thing in my life in those otherwise bleak years.
The end of the GPz came in an accident on the motorway. I was lucky not to die in that one as the car cut me up at over the ton. The bike was a total write off and I broke an arm and a couple of ribs. Full leathers had saved me from anything more fatal.
Come 1989 I felt something a little smaller was called for, a new Honda CBR600 fitting my needs perfectly. Handling was better again, although the need to rev the engine so hard was probably not quite so befitting to my mature age. Did a splendid 37000 miles in two years before the dreaded cager got me again. This time in town at about 40mph. I whacked my knee-cap on the tarmac and the expensive GRP was cracked and broken to the extent that the insurance company decided the CBR was a write off.
It shook me up a lot. I ended up buying a GS500E and moving a lot closer to work, the bike used more for pleasure than commuting. It’s a nice, pleasant machine but without the edge of my last two bikes - they encouraged me to charge everywhere at speeds that were not very conducive to a long and happy life. Trouble is, after seven months on the Suzuki, my eye has been caught by the latest Honda 900, and I'm having great trouble resisting taking the money out of the bank to buy one just to celebrate 25 years of survival on two wheels.
Graham