No fifteen year old bike is going to be perfect. That is what I told myself last November. The grey import looked well worn out but had only done 17000 kilometres. The enclosed discs didn’t seem to work. The paint was patchy and the alloy corroded. The dealer wanted a thousand notes but readily accepted £800. The motor had wailed to 14000rpm on the throttle and sounded like new.
The Japanese wouldn't have bothered. Just recycled it via the nearest metal crusher. The British market's rather different and there was a steady stream of punters even in November. It was delivered to my home. I spent a week cleaning it up. Paint, polish, oil, brake fluid, etc.
The crossover four into one exhaust was rusted out. Bystanders quickly clamped their hands over their ears as I roared past. The 400cc sixteen valve, DOHC, four cylinder engine made almost 50 horses but sod all torque. It peaked out at eleven grand, could run to as much as 14000rpm. It was a typical short stroke, Japanese four cylinder engine but a silky smooth one that inspired much respect.
The riding position was perfect, as if inspired by an old BMW Boxer. The seat was large, well padded, a joy to sit on for a few hours. Even my buxom girlfriend didn’t object to the odd outing. The steering was a bit on the staid side, the eighteen inch front wheel being slow turning, but there was only 380lbs to fight through the bends. No problem!
The only initial trouble was bumpy bends when the suspension went all soft and the exhaust collector dug in on right-handers. The mono-shock arrangement at the back was much improved by turning the springing up to its highest setting. The front forks and enclosed disc never inspired. Not so bad that I had to do anything immediately but I kept an eye open for something better.
A used VF750F front end fitted straight on. Even had a similar pattern Comstar wheel - I sprayed the tatty back wheel to match the front’s gold colour. The VF had twin front discs of immense power that tried to melt the front tyre when I touched the lever with more than one finger!
Handling was much improved once I'd fitted a matching Avon to the front wheel. Steering seemed lighter but it might just have been me becoming more and more used to the bike. I just had to go easy on the front discs when leant over, their new power could flip the front wheel off the road! A bit of a killer in the wet.
The loud exhaust was quietened by fitting a CBX550 can, there are plenty of bits in breakers because of the bigger four’s penchant for ruining its camchain. The quieter motor meant the neighbours had stopped posting petitions through my letter-box and no longer demanded my incarceration in the nearest asylum.
I battled through the winter months. I had to go easy on the throttle on the greasy and icy roads. Not a good idea because the engine goes all bland at low revs. Runs cleanly enough, just doesn’t get anywhere fast. Such mild riding turned in an amazing 70 to 80mpg. Even massive abuse didn't bring it down to less than 60mpg. Consumable wear was mild in the few thousand miles I did.
Winter weather made the alloy and chrome go like old cheese. No amount of elbow grease would bring back its shine. At least the mudguards were adequate. There was none of the cutting out in the wet that afflicts many Honda fours.
Come February I thought I'd escaped the worst of the weather only to find a sudden Siberian onslaught. To be charitable to the Honda, anyone with any sense would've left the bike at home and gone to work on the Tube. But I forced myself through the howling gale. My feet and hands went dead. I thought I'd indicated right but hadn't. The black cab descended out of nowhere and attacked the front of the bike.
I went flying. The CBX went flying. When we'd sorted ourselves out the cab had disappeared. Leaving me to explain to some large and distraught cagers why I’d caused a massive pile-up. I ignored them in favour of checking out the CBX. Hobbled over to find the front end flattened and the petrol tank dented.
The contemptible mass of people let me off without a hanging. I failed to mention that I had a spare front end in the garage. I filled the dents in the petrol tank and set to with a couple of spray cans. Not too bad. I just had to suffer the inadequate enclosed disc again.
Like a desperate gambler I decided that my luck must change. This was major gaff as two days later a huge Merc was laying in wait for me. The pile of garbage behind the wheel was so arrogant he failed to acknowledge my existence. Back-ended me whilst I was innocently waiting at a junction. A weird experience being thrown forward over the tank and bars. Major damage to my marital tackle and neck. The bike escaped with minor scratching!
My close shave with being gelded made me think seriously about my biking future. As did some rattling from the top end. The engine not my head! A graphic vision of the camchain snapping and the engine exploding ran through my mind. The dealer tweaked the tensioner and the noise went away. I didn’t know what to make of the wink he gave me but kept my back to the wall. A major bout of hysteria narrowly avoided.
I'm neither huckster nor mercenary but it seemed to me if the engine was once again running well there was no reason why I couldn't put the bike up for sale. I finally got the shine back in the Honda, kept it off the road until some potential purchasers turned up. No problem selling it for £950.
I went back to walking to work. Took a bit longer but was much safer and cost nothing. The CBX400's quite rare but many parts are common to the 550. As it needs to be revved to hell and back again to shift, reliability’s an open question. The grey imports have low mileages but poor cosmetics, some chance of finding a bargain.
J.T.