The next morning I was there with the cash in my hand. The bike’s full name was GB500 Tourist Trophy, basically an XBR500 engine and frame with some retro cycle parts added. Apart from the large single disc brake it could pass itself off as a sixties British motorcycle. Why on earth we got the XBR instead of the GB is beyond comprehension. There’s also a similar 400 version, and a 250 that uses the old DOHC CBX250 engine.
The ride and riding position’s also sixties inspired with taut, almost harsh, suspension and low bars that encourage a natural stance, redolent of a Norton 650SS I once had the pleasure of owning - it wasn’t that much of a pleasure, actually, because the engine had seen too many rebuilds, providing many a momentous roadside episode.
Anyone who's ever ridden an old Norton twin won't find anything to complain about with regards to the Honda’s big thumper vibes. There is, naturally, a balancer, which provides surprising smoothness between 2500 and 5500rpm. Thereafter, the vibes churn in but never come close to the teeth destroying chaos of, say, a BSA B44 (a machine so nasty, when a little worn, that it ultimately becomes both heart breaking and soul destroying - believe me, I’ve been there). The Honda tops out at about eight grand, by then the power’s falling off fast and the vibes are buzzing the bars and pegs. The exhaust wasn't loud but the valve gear sounded frantic. Much better to change up at around 6000 when in a hurry or 4000 revs when relaxed, but by no means slow, plodding’s on the agenda.
Top gear in the five speed box was very tall, giving relaxed 75 to 80mph cruising but a lack of acceleration thereafter. At 75mph very little throttle was needed, but rolling it open merely added 5mph to the speedo and deepened the exhaust note, a rather pleasant resonance that singularly failed to send dogs into a frenzy. Having had one mutt commit suicide under the front wheel of my CB750 four I was pleased with that - the poor old CB had rolled down the road, destroying most of its chassis. I survived long enough to get into a fight with the owner of the dead dog! We had both had the love of our lives destroyed!
The gearbox was good, the power flow linear, a certain amount of madness on the throttle and gear change encouraged the GB up to 90mph. After that it was like hitting a brick wall, only a very long downhill section getting the ton on the clock. The riding position was fine for combating such a wind blast and stability was inspiring.
The dynamics of the engine, though, peak at 75mph in top when torque and power combine to give maximum efficiency. At 75mph it'd turn in about 55mpg, at 80mph it was down to 45mpg and at 90mph had gone completely west at 35mpg. Ridden mildly 60mpg was possible but 50mpg seemed much more common in my experience. To my mind, freeing up the exhaust and air intake would liberate the motor from the horrors of restrictive noise and emission laws but for my kind of riding the bike’s perfectly adequate.
The GB, being compact and light (350Ibs), looks tiny next to most Jap fours. This feeds through to the road, the Honda being steered with minor inputs and muscular effort. Large bumps or pot-holes threatened to snap off my wrists and break my spine, but the GB held its line, although it would occasionally twitch as if in protest at council neglect and incompetence. My path was often defined by avoiding the larger holes and I was once pulled over by a cop who complained that I was snaking all over the shop like I had a blown tyre.
The brakes were a strange mix. The rear drum was brilliant, powerful and sensitive at the same time, so good it made me wonder why anyone ever went to the trouble of fitting rear discs. The front disc was much more seventies inspired than eighties, with a lack of feel, dubious wet weather action and emitted strange noises in an entirely random manner. The loud squeal made ancient peds jump out of their shoes! As the miles rolled up, the front disc became less and less inspiring.
Like the XBR, the disc goes thin, warps and tries to destroy itself. The thought of the disc exploding into a trillion bits of shrapnel had me using the engine braking and back brake unless circumstances turned desperate. I found a better disc in the breakers after a month of increasing paranoia and after fitting this was relieved to find that braking was much improved. The pads and shoes didn’t seem to wear at all, a reflection of my smooth, conservative riding style.
The one area where the reality of riding a big thumper impinged was the drive chain. A new chain and sprocket kit lasted only 4500 miles, needed constant care and attention, and my attempt at running beyond this mileage just ruined the smoothness of the gear change. Considering that I’ve never done a wheelie or spun the back wheel in my entire life, this only goes to show how destructive are single cylinder pulses. The swinging arm mount’s right next to the engine, although the swinging arm’s rather long and the engine sprocket small - old British singles used 19 to 21 tooth engine sprockets, the bigger the sprocket the less stress on the chain, something the Japs have never managed to recognize. Even the B44, with a very cheap Reynolds chain, would do more than 4500 miles.
In the overall GB experience the chain and disc problems were minor irritants. Rather more disconcerting was when the 15000 mile mark was crossed. The dreaded camchain rattle. XBR engines are supposed to be good for 40000 miles before needing serious attention, so this was a great disappointment. After a shouting match with the dealer over his proposed charges I decided to take a look myself. Turned out to be a sticking tensioner rather than a knackered camchain. I was relieved to hear the gentle rustle of the motor once I'd freed it.
I never used the kickstart to fire up the motor, having had more than enough of this primitive procedure on past British bikes. Once you've been launched through the air, strained your ankle and split open your shin, the joys of being a real man begin to fade. The electric start shocked the engine into life on the kind of nasty winter morning that freezes the air in your lungs. The engine would occasionally stall whilst ticking over at junctions, for no discernible reason, but came to life at the briefest caress of the starter button.
Rather more worrying, in an English winter, was the finish. The paint was OK except on the frame where it peeled off. The alloy was crap, going off in the most minor of rainstorms. It kept Solvol shareholders happy. Corrosion afflicted the wheels, especially the spokes which threatened to rust through - I would guess that a 30000 miler would need the wheels rebuilt. I always parked the bike in the house and polished it daily!
Although the vibes didn’t really affect the rider, the indicators would twirl around and even the front light would end up illuminating the mudguard - not amusing when running along in the dark at 70mph. The front light was adequate for the performance, but I always had to carry a couple of rear bulbs as they liked to blow.
The GB500 ain’t perfect, then. Neither is it fast, although the speed’s adequate for most of the time. I’ve now got the mileage up to nearly 20000 miles and ride the bike as if it was a second skin. For my mild needs the GB’s perfect, all the pleasures of a British single with few of the usual hassles.
J. Wilding