The fire bloomed under the seat as I was waltzing along at about 70mph. The first I knew of it was the engine cutting out, the breeze carrying the fumes out behind the bike. I'd begun to wonder about the flashing lights, frantic finger pointing and avalanche of horns. The hard shoulder beckoned. The twenty year old bike had basically been run into the ground over 67000 miles. Five owners, my own tenure lasting three weeks. It was a case of pass the rat and I was the unlucky idiot who'd been left with the mess. My foolishness didn't extend to ignoring AA membership.
The exact cause of the fire was difficult to determine. It could've been the split battery that might just be the original one. It could've been insulation turned hard and rotten. It could've been the rectifier exploding. All I knew was that the underside of the saddle was a mess. Worse still, the alternator turned out dead, a short circuit or age doing for it. A complete electrical rebuild followed.
Whilst I was at it, I did the valve clearances and points. The latter had blackened contacts and the former's rockers didn't look too healthy. But still the engine farted into life after a couple of kicks and settled down to a regular tickover. This despite the four carbs being so worn that I could never balance them they came in and out of balance to a rhythm all of their own, but the engine was so loose it didn't seem to make much difference!
Back on the road, the bike ran around town and did the odd outing without too many hassles. Clutch drag at traffic lights, occasional cutting out for no apparent reason and indicators that only worked when they were in the mood were minor irritants that were in line with the initial £200 cost of the old four.
Many middle-aged people came up to me, demanding to know why I'd let such a classic motorcycle degenerate like that; a lot of guys must've lusted after them in their youth and there seemed some potential in doing a minor restoration job. It was this, rather than any particular love for the CB which was, at best, mediocre in its performance, that made me do a quick strip down in the front room. For some reason, the neighbours had always been amused by the fact that | parked the bike in the passageway overnight.
A lot of the bike was held together by rust. Seat, guards, silencers and chainguard all fell apart when | wrenched out their reluctant retaining bolts. I suppose I should be thankful that they hadn't fallen off when | was riding along. All thoughts of keeping the bike original were abandoned. The breaker raided for replacements from more modern iron, which needed some cutting and hammering to make them fit. Amazingly, the original petrol tank still had its internal finish intact, just needed half a dozen dents filled and a quick paint job in black - I did the frame, panels and guards as well.
My attempt at removing the motor was quickly abandoned when one of engine bolts snapped rather than coming undone, they were all rusted firmly in. This was a trick the cunning Japanese had perfected - rather than leave a trail of bolts and bits like old British bikes did, all the screws simply corroded in their threads. Brilliant until you tried to remove them! As a sop to the engine's great age, I did pay £75 for a motor that had last been used on the race track, promised high-lift cams and heavy-duty pistons. It turned over still so must be OK. I never did get to fit it.
The alloy rot on the engine (couldn't remove it even with a wire-brush) and rust on the spokes spoilt the gleaming paint somewhat but it was way ahead of the old dog I'd been running around on beforehand. The first test of its redeemed nature was the MOT, which it flew through. This happy state lasted all of six days when the back wheel's bearings started knocking. Before the wheel went, the handling wasn't that bad as, unlike the 750 version, it only weighed a touch over 400lbs and had stable geometry. The suspension was marginal but it didn't seem to matter on a bike with an engine that felt close to exploding if I tried to do more than 90mph. In fact, it just didn't want to rev that high.
Back home, I took the rear wheel out. Emptied a carcinogenic amount of asbestos out of the rear drum and then had some fun knocking out the old bearings. One nearly broken finger later I had two old bearings and, erm, a cracked drum hub! This must be common because all the breakers I contacted found the request hilarious, told me not a chance. A bit of alloy welding filled in the hairline cracks and the new bearings went in without too much trauma. A couple of spokes looked a bit thin with the corrosion but what the hell, a little bit of danger does no one any harm, does it?
The feeling that the bike was gently corroding away beneath me was hard to ignore when two months later, with 71000 miles on the clock, the handling turned the CB into a three legged buffalo trying to walk on ice. Icy was how the blood in my veins went as I fought the bike through the curve, eyeing the stone wall with some fear. With a final twitch we came to a halt in the middle of the road. I was, again, thankful for the AA - one of the shocks' studs had sheared off, leaving the bike with a BMW-like mono-shock arrangement, save that the remaining shock had neither the damping nor springing to cope.
The whole rear subframe appeared to be rusting from the inside out - already, my new paint job was speckled with corrosion. Some artful welding with steel plate reinforced the back end, as well as adding a new stud for the shock. The old one was still intact despite bouncing up and down on its remaining stud. However, the forces involved had battered the swinging arm bearings into submission, leaving the handling as bad as it could get without actually throwing the rider off.
The spindle didn't want to come out - what a surprise. Penetrating oil was left to work overnight with little effect. A can of WD40 went west, still the damn thing didn't want to come free. A sledgehammer was borrowed and put into the hands of a friend who could pass as a Sumo wrestler. Half an hour later, the bent and battered spindle dropped out. My guess, it was put in bent to begin with! It took a week to track down a replacement - old Honda spares are getting rare on the ground.
Three months riding followed with just the odd oil change and tyre kicking session. Then the starting became difficult, meaning I had to take the carbs and filter apart. The latter was original, as far as I could tell, full of crud. As it looked difficult to put back on I dumped it, bound to match the straight-thru mega's I'd fitted. I fiddled around with the float heights, as per Haynes, and cleaned the airways out with an air-hose. Bunged it all back together, after an hour's hassle, and she fired up fine.
Two days later, the speedo drive broke and the front wheel's bearings started clacking. I decided that the Honda was just too old to keep bothering with. I fixed it up, sold it for £500 to some total enthusiast, despite the fact he was moaning about all the non-standard components. Beneath its shine it was basically still a rat bike! Most others are in the same state.
LR.