I've owned a CB250 Superdream for the last three and a half years, in which time it has given me lots of pleasure - it's temporarily in storage in my garage as I'm abroad now and don't have the heart to sell it.
The biggest pleasure I've had from it came in June two years ago when I decided to tour Europe. Being rather large for its capacity I managed to cram on a lot of luggage, including my rucksack, tent, sleeping bag, tankbag, panniers and, most importantly, a petrol can which was to be worth its weight in gold. There was no way such a overloaded bike could be pushed any distance.
I had just finished my second year's exams at Manchester University and had two days to get to Edinburgh and then down to the ferry at Harwich. As well as touring Europe on the Superdream I also wanted to see Scotland play football at the European championships.
After a desperate night ride down to Harwich, where petrol stops were a relief to my cramped limbs and numb backside, I got the ferry to Gothenburg. I chatted with some Swedish bikers on the way who had just been to the Isle of Man TT. I must say that it wasn't too difficult becoming used to riding at night, despite the lack of lights with searchlight intensity - in fact I preferred it.
I stayed at the campsite in Gothenburg and the next day redistributed my belongings out of the rucksack, as my back was killing me. I then started my European adventure for real and headed for Norrkoping for the German and US games. The roads were quite pleasant and the Superdream turned in 50mpg. I then joined up with the tartan army and got drunk for four days. There's something about being abroad that lets the spirits loose.
After a few hangovers in Sweden I headed down to Denmark where petrol and food was just as expensive. I stayed one night in Copenhagen and headed for the cheapness of Eastern Europe. The language barrier got to me a bit in Germany but the bike was still doing well, whirring away with a reassuring ease and going where it was pointed despite the excessive mass.
Up to that time I'd been using my Visa card to pay for petrol but now it was impossible and I wished I'd taken more traveller's cheques. The autobahns were okay and there were more petrol stations than on the British motorways. The bikers weren't as friendly, though. In Berlin the police prevented me from riding through the Brandenburg Gate - they looked pretty nasty - so I headed south to Czechoslovakia.
This is where my problems began. I was sure there was a petrol station south of Dresden that took Visa but by the time I ran out of petrol I was three miles from the nearest town. Therefore, I locked my bike and hoped no-one would steal my panniers and tankbag, headed into the great unknown on foot with my rucksack and trusty petrol can.
Several hours later, exhausted and dehydrated, I fuelled up my bike and stopped at the next station for a top up. I then headed into Czechoslovakia with no cash. Luckily, a hotel in the centre of Prague changed some traveller's cheque at 10.00pm and I found a campsite. I then fiddled around with my tent in pitch darkness and collapsed into it, which was a lot better than having it collapse on top of me.
After a nice cold shower in the morning I headed into Prague and obtained a Visa cash advance. Then disaster struck. It started raining very heavily, so harsh that it flooded the campsite and took my tent with it. I managed to salvage most of my belongings and spent the next five days drying them out.
I then headed further east to Ostravo, through the windy, mountainous roads of the Tetras. I must say that I was impressed by the quality of Czech roads and by the cheapness of the petrol, about £1 a gallon. Since the wind was behind me I also consumed less petrol, getting a range of 170 miles.
After three mind-numbing days in Ostravo, where I had the flu and ate a magic mushroom pizza, I headed in the direction of the Ukrainian border. I was studying Russian at the time so thought it would be fun riding a motorbike there. How wrong I was!
At the border town of Kosice I suddenly remembered about my chain, so under the curious eyes of the locals I tightened it, added some clutch grease as I'd forgotten chain lube. My Superdream earned a lot of respect from the locals.
At the Ukrainian border, after much haggling, I got a visa for $40 which left me with only $16. I then took the route through the Carpaithian Mountains to Lvov. It wasn't a road, it was a dirt track, and there were no pot-holes there were just huge craters.
There was also a little problem with petrol. There wasn't any! I eventually met some suspicious looking locals who sold me three gallons of petrol for $15. That left me worth just $1. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a Visa cash advance in Lvov so, after locking my bike, I carried all my stuff into the railway station and spent a miserable time there.
The next morning I headed to the Polish border with enough petrol to go 150 miles. Once in Poland, and very desperate, I went to a petrol station and exchanged my passport for some petrol. That was enough to get me into Cracow but I still had to get some money. I stayed at a hotel that took my flexible friend and the next day reversed charges and phoned the Embassy. They kindly informed me where to get money and I headed back for my passport. The Superdream still hadn't let me down and deserved a clean after all the accumulated road dirt and grime.
I went back to Berlin the next day and before I had a chance to put my leathers on I was soaked by a torrential downpour. Wet and miserable, I found an expensive hotel to live in luxury for a night. I was reliably informed that there was a ferry leaving from Hamburg the next day but unfortunately when I got there, they said there was no room for my bike!
I headed for Holland. Unfortunately I'd forgotten to oil my chain after the downpour and that night, 550 miles after Berlin, extremely tired and saddle sore I arrived on the outskirts of Amsterdam when the chain and sprocket disintegrated. I tried in vain to dodge the traffic on the motorway whilst looking for the sprocket!
Luckily for me, a friendly local stopped and gave me a tow to his house, fed me, let me stay the night and then gave me a tow to the local Honda dealer, all because he once had a motorcycle. The new chain and sprocket plus fitting cost me £100 whilst the ferry home further crippled my bank account. However, a month and 4400 miles later, extremely ill from a mixture of Czech, Polish and Ukrainian water, I cruised into Edinburgh on the Superdream.
Apart from that little incident in Holland, which could have been easily avoided, my Superdream did not once let me down. It's now 12 years old and still in good running order thanks to regular servicing. In fact, when I return from Kiev in June, after buying a more comfortable seat, I intend to tour Bulgaria, Romania and the Ukraine so I shall not have another bad word said against Superdreams.
Brian Nelson