Whilst in the States on a business trip I happened to find a dealer selling new, 1990 model, Honda GB500s for $2800. This was January 1992, so you can guess how poorly the bikes had sold in the depression that has engulfed the USA for the past couple of years. The GB500 is basically an XBR500 single with a set of fifties inspired clothes, looking like something BSA might have produced if they were still in the business of mass producing motorcycles.
A quick workout on the calculator convinced me that it was worth buying even with 42% tax due in the UK (import tax, car tax and VAT) plus three hundred dollars shipping. By the time the bike had arrived at my home, 9 weeks later, total cost was £2354 (| had been able to change my money at the rate of 1.85 dollars for one pound).
Fluctuations in the value of the dollar will obviously make such a purchase more or less of a bargain, and more normally the cost of the trip over there would have to be added in as well. It would be quite easy to get the total cost to come to around three grand which would be what the XBR would fetch if it was on sale today. So a certain amount of caution has to be exercised when considering an import from the States.
I had not heard the engine running, so it was with some trepidation that I filled the tanks with petrol and oil, added acid to the battery and cleaned off the light layer of grease that many bits of chrome had been given as a protective coating. Choke full on, press the electric start... nothing. I pulled a lead off, fitted a spare plug and bounced on the kickstart to check that there was a spark. Put the lead back on and she came to life on the fifth kick. I later found a loose lead on the starter relay....thereafter despite being a large single she came to life on the button very quickly.
A nice sonorous beat bounced off the garage walls, engine noise was minimal and after about five minutes of warming up the choke was knocked off. Tickover was steady at 900rpm with only a slight quiver of vibration through the chassis, the engine having a counter balancer to sort out the worst of the primary vibes. Out into the road with just a whiff of throttle, not wanting to cane my brand new engine. Not much torque available, but the transmission didn’t grumble at being held at minimal revs in the lower gears. The gear change itself was harsh but engaged surely enough.
The chassis felt just like an old Brit. Suspension was firm, the big wheels gave good stability and the low mass (around 350lbs) meant not much effort was needed to change direction despite the narrow and low handlebars. The footrests were perfectly placed to match these bars, just rear-set enough to take some of the body’s weight but not so far back or high to lead to instant leg cramp. My five foot ten frame felt instantly at home on the GB500.
My left hand was not quite so happy as the clutch required a heavy grip, more in line with an old Commando than a modern Honda. I could not resist the temptation to do a clutchless change but was soon turned off that idea by a horrible graunching noise from the gearbox. Also, the bike had trouble holding less than 2000 revs in top gear, the chain feeling like it was about to jump off the sprockets.
The front disc was lacking in feel, something that was to become more, rather than less, evident as the miles piled up, especially in the wet. It didn’t exactly fade from high speed stops but required increasing amounts of muscle the more harshly it was applied. At least there was no discernible wet weather lag, although the way the wheel would suddenly lock due to the lack of feedback was almost as bad. I have never before experienced quite so many front wheel slides. The rear drum was OK, better than many a disc, but again deserving of more feel.
In deference to the machine’s newness, in the first 500 miles I did not exceed more than 3000 revs. I gradually opened up to 5000 revs over the next 500 miles, but it was not until 2000 miles had been passed that | came near to the red sector. I was a bit disappointed with the available performance after all this careful running in. The bike did not want to do more than 95mph, only putting the ton on the clock under favourable conditions.
The vibes that came through at these kind of speeds were pretty horrifying to someone used to a straight four; indeed, I was convinced that the vibration was worse than most of the old Brits I'd owned a few decades before.
Admittedly, the engine hummed along with little more than a gentle thrum in the 70 to 85mph range, which was lucky as it coincided with my favourite cruising speeds, now that I’m getting on a bit, but I still like the occasional blast when conditions are safe. Also, acceleration was poor, just good enough to keep ahead of the hot GTis but certainly nothing that would upset the owner of a good 500 British twin (if such a thing still exists).
After 3500 miles the firmness of the suspension began to decline. What new, had been wonderfully taut, soon degenerated to the average level of the more mediocre seventies Japanese fare. It would still corner OK after a fashion, but long sweeping curves that should have been a breeze at 80mph produced a buckling, wobbling machine.
Most of the time steering was neutral and backing off the throttle in bends did not produce any nasty surprises. The front forks wear gaiters which would have helped the seals, but to be honest there was not much damping there to start with. I have to admit that the Honda was not my only machine. Had it been, I would have modified the suspension, bunged on a better headlamp and done something about the seat foam, which after a 125 miles flattened out - very, very painful. I liked using the Honda through traffic, for short back road trips and the occasional blast down good A roads. Despite its poor suspension, I was able to keep the machine under control with relative ease, down to its low mass and lack of speed and acceleration.
Its appearance attracted much comment. In understated dark green that in certain light appeared black, the bike had an air of an old British single, only let down by Honda’s insistence on plastering their name on the tank and engine and the large disc brake out front. Many old British bike hands, once they realised the machine was a rice burner, replaced the far away look in their eyes with one of scorn and poured forth a stream of invective that does not bear repeating. Owners of the new Matchless singles were especially forthcoming in their views on the Honda.
As the engine is basically identical to the XBR, I expected no trouble and in the 9000 miles I did encountered none. I did have a footrest come loose, a speedo cable fail and a few tail light bulbs blow, but otherwise the bike appeared as well integrated, designed and reliable as any other Honda you'd care to point a stick at. Tyres, brake pads, shoes, and even the chain, were still within reasonable wear limits when I sold the machine.
Fuel consumption worked out at a disappointing 44mpg, with a low of 34mpg and high of 58mpg, the latter when running in. Between 2000 mile changes, no oil was either burnt off or dropped on the tarmac. Despite the depreciations of one English winter, paint, chrome and alloy remained good with only a monthly, wash, polish and shine given to the Honda. I decided to sell the GB because it had become a very bland machine to ride with neither the performance nor handling to inspire much respect nor admiration.
Apart from the rotten fuel economy, it would make a reasonably cheap commuter where some distance and speed are involved. I managed to sell the machine for £2500 to someone who had fallen in love with its looks, just as I had done when I'd seen the bike in America.
There is obviously a market for machines like the GB500 which combine practicality with stunning looks. However, as is all too often the case, the style was never more than on the surface, look too deep into the GB’s character and you'll find a very bland motorcycle that is much more of the seventies than the nineties. At the kind of prices they fetch, I will not be buying another.
Greg Fallows