The honeymoon was short-lived, as the harsh reality of a history of abysmal neglect began to make itself felt. The electrics were shot to pieces. Most weekends were spent colouring in some system or other in the circuit diagram. Things became so bad I had to buy a multi-meter. I hate electrical faults, at best they're vague, at worst intermittent. Over a couple of months I formed an intimate relationship with all things electrical on the bike.
The indicators went first, the supposed indestructible winker relay regularly blew and had to be replaced. The old, tired battery rarely held much in way of a charge - the new one didn’t fare much better, even disconnecting whilst not in use didn’t seem to help much. An intense investigation of the bike’s electrics began, along with one of the worst nightmares of my life.
Seemed like the bike was hotwired at some point. The live feed between battery and ignition was a twisted wire held in place with insulation tape. This would come apart on right-hand bends and reconnect when I parked the bike took a lot of frustrating hours to work out. Most of the block connectors were junked in favour of insulation tape, which strained the cable harness as well as creating millions of shorts to earth. What was really frightening was a lack of fuses! A dip into the dwindling pile of cash resulted in a bullet connector kit. A new condenser fitted the right way around, and sorting all the connections, made a vast improvement.
The ace bars didn’t give a comfy ride so were replaced by a set from a 400 Dream. The switches had always been a bit dodgy. Gallons of WD40 did little to help repair rusted and pitted switchgear. Luckily, the Dream's switches were thrown in as part of the deal.
There’s a big headlamp up front, that sadly fails to live up to its potential, even after I’d sorted the electrics and had the alignment confirmed at the MOT. Polishing the reflector and fitting an Halogen bulb helped a little. Rain caused a lot of problems. The HT leads’ insulation was knackered. Solved with a length of cable that could be cut to the correct size and a set of plug caps, plus silicone sealant around the inside of the timing cover stopped water entering and shorting the points. Therein lies another horror story.
There’d been running and starting problems with the engine, partly due to pitted points. When replacing them I noticed that both the timing plates had their adjustment slots filed out! The screw heads were chewed up as well. The springs on the advance/retard mechanism would've been hard put to work in a biro. At this rate the breakers would be inviting me to their work’s outings.
When all these problems were fixed, it became time to enjoy the bike and this was done with a vengeance. She handled beautifully, much better than my mate’s 750F1 (so there). The gear ratios worked superbly, able to pull from about 20mph in top and accelerate with rapid smoothness to around the 90mph mark. After that, a bit of persistence saw the speedo needle past the ton, to waver between 110-115mph. I’m not sure how performance was affected by the 400 Dream sprockets, as they were fitted when I took delivery of the bike. The chain needed a couple of extra links but lasted well.
As confidence in the Honda's reliability grew, so the runs became longer Adventure beckoned, south of the border in the form of London. The run down saw a rapid deterioration of the rear shocks (not originals). Admittedly, the panniers, pillion and rack were heavily loaded with camping gear, but the combined weight and distribution would not equate to an average couch potato, so it’s fair to say they were knackered. Handling became akin to falling down a spiral staircase. My mate reckoned that replacing them would be a doddle and I foolishly believed him.
In London, a pair of S&Ws were acquired. Trying to be clever we thought we’d change one shock at a time. The theory being that the combination of the remaining shock and my mate pushing down on the pillion would reduce the space between swinging arm and lop mountings to a minimum. Sounded perfectly feasible but a couple of hours futile grunting proved to be the harsh reality. The rain didn’t help either, but luckily a couple of passing bikers did and we headed off, with me stopping every so often to try to set the optimum spring tension.
On the homeward journey, the engine started acting up in an all too familiar electrical way. My waterproofs failed miserably against the horrid torrential rain. Water cascaded off the tank into my already saturated groin, which the chill factor had reduced to embarrassing portions whilst my bladder was most distressed. One of the worst times of my life.
I'd arranged to meet my mate at the services so was much relieved to trundle up there in one piece. After a piss I sat in the cafe, noting that the bike was missing right-hand panel and that I was the wrong services. Checking the map revealed I'd missed the turn-off to the M6 and was still on the M1! My brain packed in at this point and hysteria set in. I became aware that I was sniggering out loud, everyone staring at me as if I was crazy. They were probably right!
I had to find a way of protecting the electrics, which came in the form of a plastic bag that was blown past in the heavy rain. This was wrapped around the battery and electrics. Later, I found that even used panels were very expensive, ended up making a set out of alloy sheet, borrowed from where I used to work.
The Honda was beginning to show its age but kept running for the next few months. Then the carbs started pissing petrol out of the overflows. Not a comfortable feeling, having the tyre lubricated, not to mention proximity of the hot silencer. The Haynes was consulted but didn’t inspire, showed a mess of complex components that appeared too delicate for a heavy handed lout, such as myself, to handle. Haynes loves to make things seem simple. “Remove carbs and air box from the engine” - three hours of blood, sweat and tears later I'd wrestled them off the bike. I spent the rest of the day recovering in the pub.
The Honda dealer was begged into helping. Rust from the petrol tank had found its way into the float valves, making it impossible for them to close properly. The replacement valves arrived after a week, which was about the time it took me to remove the pebbles from the tank - I'd read in one of the magazines that this was the way to tackle the rust problem! I also fitted filters in the two fuel lines, just to be sure.
It may not seem like it but I was genuinely fond of this bike. Guess all the work I did made her personal. In fact, the problems were down to an attitude that was at least apathetic and at most inept. She really did reward caring maintenance with regular reliability. Servicing was mostly a matter of manually adjusting or checking components - not a bad thing in my book, it meant I could be confident of the various bits and pieces that kept the engine running. Even the camchain tensioner’s OK, as long as the stud’s given a tap to help the spring. Slipping clutches can be repaired effectively by roughening up the plates.
The front disc brake works well, so long as the caliper screw’s adjusted regularly and allowances are made in the rain. There’s been a lot of horror stories about cracked drums out back. I checked carefully (not wanting to die), but there were no problems, other than having to file down new shoes to get them to fit without rubbing on the liner during normal running.
High ground clearance makes changing the oil very easy. This is vital, only a moron would leave this any longer than 1500 miles, although every 1000 miles is much better and the filter should be changed every second oil job. Narrow oilways easily clog up, causing terminal engine failure.
There’s a sad ending to the telling of this tale. The ever increasing expensive demands of a (now thankfully ex-) wife saw the departure of the beloved bike. Overtime had become a vital necessity to maintain her in the style to which she wanted to become accustomed. I'd neither time nor money to replace the camchain at around 50k. In retrospect, I should've got rid of the wife instead - I often wondered why it took so long. I'd a much more harmonious relationship with the bike despite the various hassles. There seems to be a moral in there somewhere don't you think?
Jinge