There I was in '77 living 15 miles from civilization in the backwoods of Wiltshire, I’d just left the army and got a job in Andover, so I needed to commute. As Maggie-ism was already alive and kicking in the Shire counties whose boundaries I would cross, public transport was nonexistent. As I couldn’t drive it was back to a bike (not that I’m complaining about that, you understand).
Being a learner in those days, I was restricted to a 250 (oh, happy days) of which nearly all available at that time were racy two strokes. Not exactly ideal for Wiltshire’s cow pat covered roads. Yep, you've got it, I live near a farm. So after paying my deposit and signing away the next three years of my life to the finance company I took delivery of a brand new, shiny blue CB250 Dream. The first blue one in the Andover area. I rode the bike from Amesbury Motorcycles at 30mph, that 20 miles seemed to take an eternity. To someone used to a BSA B25 and a TS100, the Honda felt big and very top heavy (which is exactly what it was, anyway).
First impressions were of physical size and weight. I once parked it next to a Bonnie and the Triumph disappeared behind it, which was a pity really because it was much the prettier of the two. The other impression was the quietness of the exhaust, at times I had to look at the rev counter to check that the engine was still running. It was also very, very smooth compared to my other bikes, the chain driven balancers doing a good job of damping out the vertical twin primary vibes. Running in at moderate engine speeds gave a very good return on fuel, around 75mpg at speeds of up to 50mph and only gentle acceleration.
But once run in and properly serviced I started to open her up, gradually building up the revs. She took it all, even when the redline was exceeded, firstly by accident then progressively more and more till I was regularly exceeding the redline in all but top gear. Flat out in top, 90 would appear on the clock without much effort, and in ideal conditions it would eventually drag itself to an indicated 95, provided there was enough road. There is a flat spot around 5500rpm, just to catch the unwary and it’s pretty gutless below 6000rpm, but after that it really takes off (in 250cc terms) - to make it really go you have to play the box and rev the balls off it.
Handling at speed was fine, the steering fairly neutral in a straight line but there was some wallowing on fast bends, the sort you get on dual carriageways. Getting to the twisty stuff, however, soon showed up its deficiencies. Although the pegs could be touched down at 60mph, many other bikes, even ones with much older frame designs, could overtake on the inside of the bend with alarming ease.
There I was, already on my limits at a mere sixty, when things like Bonnies, Commandos and even KH250s would embarrass me and other Dream owners. I now own a '67 T100R which is in standard trim and handles far better than the Dreams and Superdreams. This is no bullshit - a T100R, for those too young to remember them, is the 500cc version of the Bonnie. The Honda definitely suffers due to being overweight and top heavy.
On the road, the Dream was superbly comfortable, more so than the Superdream, the large saddle being well padded and despite the bike’s size even I, at 5’ 5", could put both feet flat on the floor - which was just as well with the top heaviness of the bike.
The switchgear was standard Honda stuff of the mid-seventies, still years ahead of the items that Les Harris is fitting to the new Triumphs. One thing about Honda in particular and the Japs in general is that they long ago sorted out control ergonomics. Apart from the indicator switch that was fiddly to use when wearing thick gloves, all the controls fell easily to hand and were a joy to operate. The indicators were like lighthouse beacons compared to many bikes of that era, the horn was unusually potent, but the side was let down by the dismal power of the headlamp.
The brakes were a bit strange, the rear drum was excellent in the dry but inclined to be a bit grabby - but never dangerously - in the wet. The front hydraulically operated stainless steel disc is another story, however. In the dry it was only just adequate, only locking the wheel when you least needed it - on snow, ice or oil. While in the wet the braking all but disappeared cured by junking the stock pads in favour of Dunlopads.
The original Jap tyres would have been laughable if I hadn’t had to use them for a while. If the front brake had had any decent power there would have been some very lurid slides. Roadrunners were fitted as soon as possible and, I’m happy to report, were a vast improvement. Unfortunately the improved grip began to seriously worry the stock chassis.
The front forks suffer from chronic walking - not helped by the flimsy way they are fitted into the yokes. A fork brace would help, especially after the front mudguard has had a chance to rust away. The fork seals lasted a mere 2000 miles and cost £6 back in ’77. I stopped this rip-off by spending £1.80 on a pair of Norton Commando gaiters, which increased seal life to a more respectable 12000 miles.
The FVQ shocks lived up to their name, needing the hardest setting after only 3000 miles and were completely knackered after 5000 miles. If I’d indulged in two up riding I think I would have had to use them once and throw them away. Back then it wasn’t possible to buy replacements like Konis and the price of new ’uns was too funny for words. The Comstar wheels looked, er, different but the large, flat area could let the wind catch the front wheel and whip it from under you with hardly any warning; not confidence inspiring.
I did many journeys of two or three hundred miles without undue stress, but two-up the bike was pushed to maintain 60mph on motorways and fuel dropped from 60mpg solo to a mere 45mpg. None of my passengers ever uttered a word of complaint, so it must have a pretty comfortable pillion perch.
Most routine servicing was straightforward. Oil changes must be done regularly; filters should be changed with every oil change. If changes are done at intervals of less than 3000 miles then the small oil ways will become gummed up and as a result write off the big-end, at the very least, and probably most of the rest of the engine if you ignore all the noises. Replacement of the big-ends will probably cost you more than the bike is worth, so do change the oil as frequently as you can afford.
It’s extremely important to adjust the balance weight chain, at least every 10000 miles or less if you're paranoid. This means removing the engine cover, a process almost guaranteed to shear off one or more of the engine screws. It’s useful to have the patience of Job. Neglect the chain and vibes increase and engine wear accelerates. Despite the pain of the operation, it’s worth doing to avoid having to take the bike off the road and give lots of notes to the Jap importers for a basketful of spares.
The easiest bit to service is the ignition - just clean or replace the plugs when necessary - the CDI never gave a hint of a problem in 30,000 miles. The bike came with an O-ring chain that couldn’t be boiled in grease and didn't last any longer than the older type. A friend insisted on covering his chain in normal grease; we were able to save the bike and his father wanted a new garage anyway. Chain adjustment is simple as the swinging arm is blessed with wonderfully clear alignment marks.
All in all, not a bad bike, but limited in performance as it’s a 250 hauling a 400 chassis. As a reasonable bargain basement tourer/commuter I would recommend one. But, I would not pay more than £250 for a pristine example. Spares are expensive and you have to wait for them. Good points: comfortable solo or two up, controls, back brake, reliable engine if serviced regularly, reliable ignition system, clear instruments, handling as a solo tourer. Bad points: front brake, headlamp, stock tyres, quick rot chrome and alloy, useless mirrors, poor spares availability, handling two up or sports riding.
T Bassett