The CBR900 had
me in its sights for a long time but it was only in 1997 that the price
was right. A three year old for £2750. Ain't life fuckin' wonderful!
I tested the bike in the usual way - full throttle, massive wheelie take-off
- if that and coming down to earth with an alarming bang didn't kill it
then it must be okay. It survived. My enthusiasm even survived the blank
look on the fourth owner's face when I mentioned oil changes and servicing.
My previous mount sold the week before for £2500
- a prime meat example of the Z1000, which just goes to show how strange
the used motorcycle market has gone. I was used to meaty power, excess weight
and handling out of the ark. The CBR900 had much more power any way you
want to look at it and was carting along at least 150lbs less metal. It
doesn't take an Einstein to work out the consequences; the major one being
yours truly getting stuck in like a dog with two pricks.
It took approximately 90 minutes for the plod to get in
on the act. Some porcine (literally, triple chins at 25!) bastard had his
notebook out after his mate in the driving seat had almost rammed me into
the armco. 'Did we know, sir (heavy sarcastic emphasis), that doing 125mph
between two cars was likely to end up with a prison term?' I pointed out
that one of the cars was undertaking me! Some blighter in a big Merc who
was already well gone. This was ignored, I was told that I was going to
be done for dangerous driving as well as being 55mph over the speed limit.
The porcine one gave me a wink, waited for a few seconds before starting
to write out the ticket - was he hoping for a bribe? I gave the old owner's
name and address, which came up on their computer and laughed all the way
home. Got one over on the buggers!
The CBR spent the next half hour swinging through my favourite
country lanes. Couldn't believe how far over it would go without coming
unstuck. A couple of times I went into bends too fast, twitched the bike
upright and slammed the anchors on - the Honda didn't like that kind of
treatment, the front wheel slamming around and needing an excess of muscle
to avoid riding off the road or into an oncoming car. Twitchy little bugger,
thought I, but then I would never have tried such speeds on the Z which
would have thrown me off, dug up the road, written a few cars off and destroyed
any loose farm animals - and in all probability still be ready for more!
I wasn't actually going into bends too fast for the CBR,
I soon found out that there was plenty of grip in hand and that there was
no need to back off! This was all well weird, used as I was to hanging off
the side of the Z whilst it tried to imitate a buffalo with a hot poker
up its backside. The monstrous power available at the flick of a wrist had
to be held in utmost reverence; try it on too hard then the back would go
sideways, probably even backwards. Even coming out of bends with a mild
bit of throttle action in, say, third, had the front end going all light
and twitchy, though it never tried a Z-like stop to stop speed wobble -
the Z did it with both wheels firmly on the tarmac, down to crap suspension,
weight distribution and steering geometry, not to mention a frame that could
suddenly turn plastic.
It took me a while to get used to this. Kids who'd grown
up on such devices showed me up no end in the early days. Even CBR600 mounted
youths could leave me for dead in a series of curves. Watching them getting
their knees (elbows in one case!) down was highly inspiring. I followed
their lines and angles of lean, scaring myself silly when the power pulsed
in and the back tyre started to patter with the sheer excess of the forces
involved. I never did find the ultimate limit; that is, when you fall off!
But I had some fun doing power slides out of curves on slightly damp roads;
I could feel the point at which the Michelins were about to let loose! Try
that on some old hulk like the Z and you'd end up a hospital case.
The one area where the CBR was lacking was that of comfort.
Obviously, it's a replica which therefore needs speed to make any sense,
but the seat's resemblance to a plank was either built in or down to 33000
miles worth of wear and oversized previous owners. Fuel consumption was
around 30mpg, tyres about 3000 miles and brake pads circa 4500 miles. That
added up to heavy costs but what the hell...
Hell was where I would've liked to fling the bike when
all systems failed about sixty miles from home. It took me but a few moments
to deduce that it was the electrics which had gone down. Namely, one expensively
melted battery, the result of an equally dead rectifier. The wiring had
been poked about by someone with a death-wish, a couple of bared wires jigging
about in all probability causing the machine's downfall. It took three hundred
quid and a couple of hours of an auto-electrician's time to sort the mess
out! I'm old enough to recall a time when you could buy a jolly good motorcycle
for that kind of dosh!
Gave the Honda a heavy thrashing after that incident, just
to convince myself that it was worth the hassle. Yes, yes, yes. I was inspired
to spend my hol's roaring around the South of France at warp speed and ignoring
the Frog Pigs who couldn't keep up! Ran into a couple of characters from
one of the glossies, was shocked to find the rumours were true - was offered
enough drugs to write off a sane person's liver and propositioned by one
desperate guy! Poor chap thought he was Hunter S Thompson in drag! I managed
to get out of it without resorting to violence.
The CBR buzzed along at improbable revs and speeds, the
only hassle keeping my body temperature down in the fierce summer heat.
After one crazy trip I could hear the coolant bubbling in the radiator!
185mph on the clock was the most I saw (I know, it was probably optimistic),
which I thought was amazing for an engine that then sported more than 40,000
miles on the clock! One worrying sign, the motor began to eat up the lubricant
at a rate that emptied the sump in 500 miles. I took this as a sign not
to do any more oil changes, no point if it was all going to be burnt off,
was there?
Back home, the bike was a bit more vibratory, with some
surge at low revs. I put this down to the fact that I'd never touched the
carbs (the previous owner told me it wasn't necessary!). On the overrun,
there were puffs of white smoke out of the exhaust but it still screamed
along at incredible rates of acceleration and velocity.
With 46,456 miles on the clock the CBR ground to a halt
with a large bang! I just managed to hit the clutch before the bike was
thrown off the road. After great expense, the bike was back home and I had
the engine in a million pieces. A broken con-rod was the culprit, which
had messed up the whole mill. After the usual round of insults a used motor
was installed but this turned out to be a bit of a dog with no inclination
to go over 150mph. Must've done a high mileage.
The local dealers didn't want to know as far as a trade-in
deal or sale went but I got shot of the bike for 2500 notes on the private
market. A bit of a loss but I'd had more than my money's worth as far as
on the road kicks go. A total licence kill (don't register the bike in your
name), an outrageously fast piece of kit that's still well on the pace and
handles better than most other bikes. Takes a bit of time and skill to master
but responds well to a firm hand. Of course, there was only one thing to
do after the CBR - use the dosh as a deposit on an R1.
Dave F.