From the age of 17 I ran a P reg Honda C90 which I had inherited from my father — he had three in various states of disrepair. I ran it for 18 months. It had an oil leak from the base gasket - I chose to replace this and learnt my first painful lesson about maintenance — put the split link clip in the camchain the right away around. I didn't, on my joyful test run with the engine running well after I’d decoked it, the link gave and the chain punched a neat hole in the engine casings, taking a tooth off the top gear when it jammed on the sprocket. Most of the oil fell out of the engine, but I had a spare split link, put the chain back and got home. We transplanted the engine out of the other running C90 and I was mobile again.
After a while, the clutch packed up - there was a spare gear cluster in the garage so I rebuilt the first engine and patched the hole as best I could with an aluminium plate — it always leaked but not much. C90s are often unfairly maligned — mine went flat out everywhere at 50mph, did 120mpg and gave me a lot of fun. Sure, the chassis rotted but dad had a welder and an old fridge door in the garage... the suspension was packed with washers to tighten it up, so that on a few mad occasions I could take roundabouts flat out - the thing weighed so much that it was very stable so long as you hung your bum over the edge of the seat.
The C90 ended its life bright yellow and totally clapped out from 10,000 miles of thrashing, particularly as I had got into the habit of over revving in second so that the bike didn't start to slow down as I put it into third (top). I went to university and the C90 was loaned to a friend who had blown up his own and never got it back. That seemed like the end for me and bikes — I needed a car to get all my junk back and forth from Norwich to the north of England. Then, in the vacation of my second year, I got chatting to a student in an East Anglian pub who had an A-reg Yam RS100 in his garage which had seized ten minutes after he had restarted it after putting in new mains. I had sorely missed bikes, even though I had only ridden the C90, and couldn't resist. A deal of eighty quid including his helmet was agreed on and I took the bike home on dad's trailer.
Within an hour I had the engine on the bench — I couldn't pull the alternator so I fiddled around with the primary drive gears — suddenly the crank rotated freely in my hands, the nut on the end of the crank hadn't been done up tightly and allowed the primary gear to float around and jam up. I put it back together and bingo, one perfect RS100. After the C90 it was bliss, but top gear was uselessly tall, a smaller gearbox sprocket fixed that. The bike would hold 60mph in most conditions and 70mph down a hill. After the baffle had a fight with my hacksaw the bike sounded better and there was a bit more speed. Handling and even the tiny drum brakes felt fine.
The end of the summer came and I rode the bike up to Durham in two shifts, totalling about I eight hours. I kept off the dual carriageways and felt quite at home on A roads where I could go with the flow but had a hard time overtaking. The bike was crap on fuel at 70mpg but I suppose I wasn't exactly gentle with it.
In Durham l passed my Part 2 and found someone who would give me £325 for the bike; I needed something bigger. A Kawasaki Z250 seemed ldeal. One appeared in the local rag for 300 quid. It was a bit tatty but had a new Marshall 2—1 and new shocks. It went okay. had a free top box, so I bought it for £290 with some spares. For a while it was wonderful, big, fast. powerful (after a 100cc) then a catalogue of disasters began. Both discs seized on, the back one glowed red on the way home — new seals. pads, £35 and a lot of farting around bleeding the front and rear systems took care of that. Then a carb diaphragm split — £28 new but I bought a Stromberg diaphragm for 99p at the local motor factor and fitted it with Araldite and a bit of Coke can. This repair lasted for about a month when I repaired it with Superglue and instant gasket, which lasted until I got rid of the bike.
I had also noticed that the bike needed the oil topping up every 100 miles. Out of innocent curiosity I pulled off the breather and white fumes came out, bores or valves on the way out. The camchain was also noisy, so I planned a bit of renovation for the Xmas vacation. Just before the end of term I pulled out the engine and took the head and barrels off — bores looked fine, so I cast suspicion on the valves. I put the engine in the boot of the car and took it home to fix.
A new camchain and valve guide oil seals were fitted. I noticed that the big and small ends were a bit worn, and that the cam bearings were also scored — all on a bike that had done 20,000 miles. All of these bearings were plain, with no shells — I found this very hard to believe, as the only conclusion which can be drawn is that once one or all of them go that's it — party’s over. Back in the frame the motor was a pig to start — smoke billowed out of the exhaust and there was a strange tapping noise...
l ripped it apart again. New gaskets dealt with the oil smoke, and the noise was traced to the pistons hitting the crankcase at BDC, down to the worn conrods. I realised that I had heard it all along, but before it had been largely hidden by the noise from the shagged camchain. I relieved the pistons where they were fouling and put it back together.
The bike was then okay for a while. They are a bit heavy for a 250 but handle well and have good brakes when they are not seized, wet or dry. So why am I so fed up? I set out for home for the Easter vacation on a lovely sunny day. The first 100 miles were bliss at about 75mph on the flat (with a tail wind and not flat out).
Going into Hull the bike overheated — I let it cool and set off again - no problems apparently. 10 miles further on I stopped for petrol, the bike was hard to start and generally felt a bit odd, but there was nothing I could do but carry on.
Then it started pulling on only one cylinder. Half an hour with the toolkit revealed that one set of points had closed. I reset them and then carried on. A bit further on the bike seized and although I got it going again it was obvious that this was the end of the road — smoke poured from the exhaust. the sump was dry and there was no compression on the left-hand side.
It took ten frustrating hours to get the bike home on the trailer — the ditch option looked attractive but I couldn't afford it. Next day the horror story came to an end — a quick strip revealed a melted and holed piston, no oil and therefore no cam, crank, etc. Totally buggered. I sold it to a breaker for 60 quid, I think he felt sorry for me. The breaker didn’t have a kind word for the Z250... don’t bother & get a Superdream!
Eventually. I bought an X-reg Yam LC350 for 700 quid with a brand new Nolan lid and some spares thrown in. It's in loud Marlborough colours but bog standard. It took fork seals and a new rear tyre to get an MOT. Then I changed the gearbox oil. It was EP90, and full of metal fragments — with 10/40W the clutch stopped slipping but 6th gear was obviously in trouble, judging by all the noise. I got a used cluster for £25 but on the strip down it needed a rebore and crank overhaul. £200 later I had a virtually new engine.
I rebuilt it carefully and am now running it in. l'm up to 6500rpm which equates to an effortless 80mph. For the first 300 miles (60mph) I got 55mpg. They are a hell of a lot of fun, my boots are getting worn on the roundabouts, above 5000rpm they pull like crazy and they are thirsty. It's very comfortable and quite capable of frightening me silly.
You don’t see many Ariels on the roads, these days. You see even fewer Ariel Arrows, the sporting version of the Ariel Leader. A weird and wonderful two stroke twin that if you stretched a point and viewed things with a big squint, could be thought of as an early LC. Mine, a 1961 model, has been in the family for ages, passed down from generation to generation until it finally, poor thing, came into my hands. Because of the 125 law I could not use it to learn on, so father's C90 was put into use for a few months until I passed the tests. This did not stop me riding the Ariel illegally many times down the nearby back roads. We had managed to keep the-machine in reasonable order as some time in the past father had the forethought to buy three used engines when they were available for just a few notes. What parts we did not have could be made up on the small lathe in our garage or could be robbed from a different machine and persuaded to fit the Arrow.
For its time, the Ariel was quite advanced. A welded box section style beam frame from which the small and compact engine was hung endowed the chassis with surprising stiffness. 16" wheels and a trailing link fork combined with less than 300lb in mass meant it was very flickable, but prone to slight weaving when ridden flat out. The rear shocks were not heavy duty items, quickly sagging when they were not trying to turn the back end into a pogo stick. Replacement with Girling shocks was the easy answer.
The age of the machine is evident from its massive mudguards, the front absurdly mounted a few inches off the wheel and liable to snatch up low flying birds. it was useful when the machine was taken on off road excursions, though. The fuel tank is hidden within the beam frame as are the electrics. The whole front end looks bizarre at best, in the styling excess of those huge Yank cars of the fifties. The brakes are also period pieces, full width SLS drums for which shoes are difficult to find. Engine braking from the two stroke motor is minimal and fade endemic to the braking system. They can't even be praised for working gradually in the wet as they can become easily water logged, although family history has it that they were not so prone when new and 67000 miles younger!
The front brake became dangerous when the front fork linkages became worn a few thousand miles ago. The lurching front and kept throwing the machine into a real wobble, but we made up some bushes and played around with the linkages. The temptation to replace the forks with something more modern, and telescopic in nature, is high, but we have grown to love the weirdness of its looks.
The engine has had two new cast iron cylinders and piston sets (off the spare engines) but the three bearing crankshaft is still on its original ball bearings. much to everyone’s amazement. The engine is fed by an inaccessible single Amal Monobloc and a complex array of intake tubing and filters. Starting is easy enough, using the two position choke but the large clouds of blue smoke from the petroil mix (25:1) make the machine very unpopular with our ecology conscious neighbours.
Performance is better than restricted 125, with an indicated 80mph possible under favourable conditions, although uphill or against a head wind it's hard pressed to hold 70mph. The engine is tractable at lower revs and takes off in a vaguely spirited way once the throttle is past the halfway mark. A half dead LC would eat it for breakfast, naturally.
Spirited back road riding is rather fun, what with the gentle yowl out of the ultra long silencers and the general chuckability of the chassis. Ever since I discovered it was possible to fit modern Michelins to the 16" wheels I have found fantastic angles of lean on the Arrow, although pivoting the bike around on the centrestand prong is not conducive to a long and happy life.
It will suffer motorway work but the lack of brakes and top end acceleration make it a bit dangerous. Similarly, riding at night with the 6 volt electrics is not recommended. The bike was never fitted with indicators; the original 50 watt Lucas alternator would probably throw a fit if I dared to fit them. Vibes are sufficient to blow the rear bulb from time to time, but don’t really create much of a nuisance for the rider.
Age has had a marked effect on the transmission. The puny old primary chain stretches at a quite frightening rate, these days. Probably down to the poor quality of chain available in the idiosyncratic pitch Ariel deemed necessary. The clutch is very unpredictable (god knows how many plates it’s gone through), sometimes it slips, other times it drags; it’s even been know to combine the two on some days. The four speed gearbox is still on many of its original components. Its action has become very heavy over the years but once booted into gear it generally stays there — to the extent that there's no way to find neutral at a standstill. The drive chain resides in its own CD style chain enclosure and receives a modicum of oiling from the primary chaincase, so lasts 15 to 20,000 miles depending on use and quality of chain.
There’s quite a large gap between first and second, with obvious consequences on acceleration. Top gear is rather tall, only really of use when the engine is in good fettle. Acceleration in third is much more interesting and the bike can get down to 20mph in this gear, still able to power away, after a fashion, up to 70mph, although judging by the vibes that run through the footrests at that level it’s pushing the mechanical limits of the old dear.
Failures on the road have been rare, mostly down to a spate of electrical faults caused by the ancient wiring rotting away or falling out of its connections. As father likes fettling the bike, the garage is his private refuge from the world, the bike receives meticulous servicing every few hundred miles, one reason why it's lasted so long.
Fuel consumption averages around 55mpg, which is on a par with most Japanese four stroke twins. It in early days it was able to do as much as when ridden moderately but even a new carb failed to improve consumption to better than 60mpg. A hard thrash will get it down to about 50mpg, so you can pretty well ride it as you want and not worry too much over economy. The tank gives a range of about a 100 miles before it's necessary to find a petrol station.
Things to watch are the state of the spark plugs as they foul up after an excess of town riding, the points as they have been known to fall apart and wheel bearings which don't usually last more than 10,000 miles. It has to be pointed out that the Arrow is a bit of a family pet, well looked after and given a lot of tender loving care. A lot of them were thrashed just like LCs are these days; after 20,000 miIes they were reduced to scrap and dumped, the rider moving on to better and bigger things. I’ve seen two Leaders (a sort of two stroke CD175) but no Arrows in the past ten years. I suppose there must still be a few tucked away that come out for the shows, but I never bother going so I wouldn't know. I expect to be able to hand the Ariel on to my son when he comes of an age to ride it.
Phillip Swain
I bought my Moto Guzzi V50 for a hundred pounds. It was in a barn, very rusty and did not run. It had belonged from new to a friend of mine who had ridden it until it stopped, whereupon he had put it in the barn with all his previous victims, which included a B40, a C15, an Enfield GT, a CD175 and a small pile of rust that might once have been a Bantam.
I had no garage then, so it was deposited in a workshop belonging to another friend who was attempting to resuscitate a 250 LC. Many evenings were spent that winter as we worked on the machines. The V50 was W reg with 17k on the clock. It was a Mark 3, which meant bigger valves, a return to points ignition and reputedly better finish, though if this is the case I quail at the thought of earlier quality. Most of my work consisted of removing several years of crud, rust and corrosion from the machine. All the chrome had gone from the silencers, the wheels and engine looked like Quaker Oats, and the tank had rusty scabs around the badges, petrol cap and seat. The tank was resprayed in a similarly bilious shade of orange to that it had originally been to avoid having to do the painted mudguards as well. The sidepanels were black and made of a strange sort of rubbery plastic. Minor repairs done to the wiring proved simple, though the wiring was connected together in a way that made a nonsense of the colour coding. A circuit tester soon unveiled the mysteries. Two of Guzzis more problematical electrical wonders had already been fixed - it had a Japanese fuse box and the CDl75's ignition switch which was in the headlamp, a la BMW. A very worthwhile mod as Guzzi ignition switches are thoroughly unreliable items which should be discarded quickly even if they appear to work okay.
The exhaust system was repainted very carefully with Sperex (which was a complete waste of time and money) and fitted with crushable alloy head/down-pipe gaskets from a Suzuki as the fibre Guzzi ones blow out regularly. Brakes were relined and a disc replaced at a local breaker, as one was warped despite, or perhaps because, it had been skimmed. The donor bike was a sludge green Mark 3 - I was to see much more of it in the coming months.
Finally it was March, so the beast was started with jump leads and taken for its MOT. At least that was the idea. In reality it got about 50 yards. There was a loud bang and I was coasting. The short push home revealed a box full of neutrals. What had happened was the taper roller bearings in the bevel box had broken up and trashed the crown wheel and pinion. Another trip to the breaker and 60 pounds later I was ready to try again. My father said if I spent another three months working on the thing it might get to the corner shop.
This time, though, it did get to the MOT and passed, despite a leaky fork seal and the bellow from the very inaptly named Silentium silencers. The fork seals on this model are of little consequence as they retain only a little lubricating oil; the actual damping goes on in a sealed unit in the top of the fork legs. Caps are fitted but best ignored; zero psi being the only way of ensuring balance.
Finally, we were in business: Tim’s LC was also finished so off we went. The V50 is probably the best bike I have ever ridden for summer's evening runs and Sunday morning blasts. Despite. 10:1 compression it is very torquey, the handling is in a class of its own in my experience. The linked Brembo brakes lived up to their brick wall effect reputation. As on all Guzzis, the left front and rear discs are both operated by the foot pedal, with one handlebar lever operating the other front disc. It takes a while to get used to but has prodigious stopping ability once mastered. You would have to be extraordinarily cack-handed to lock a wheel, and fork dive is minimised.
Performance was about 105mph on the Vagu-lia speedo at around 50-55mpg, which depended more on how accurately the carbs were set than on how much grief the throttle was given. The V50 and LC were marvellous machines to run together. The soundtrack alone was a smile a mile with the bellow from the Guzzi and racy crackle from Tim’s Allspeeds. Performance was comparable. Tim said this proved the LC was better as it was half the size. I felt compelled to point out it used bloody nearly twice as much petrol in the attempt.
After a couple of weeks the ignition went down. Although Mark 3’s points are better than ‘the Bosch electronic ignition of the Mark 2 (that blessed the bike with unwelcome flat spots) mine had Piranha electronic ignition fitted. Though generally first class, this set-up was triggered by a slotted disc on the end of the cam and tiny light beams. The problem being that even minute quantities of oil mist from the camshaft oil seal obscured the trigger beams. An aerosol cleaner designed for computers remedied the problem once you knew what it was. Hours of circuit testing and swearing went on. This problem recurred sporadically throughout the time I owned the bike.
A few months of fun followed. The handling of these machines is glorious. Like boxer BMWs they stand no messing around, all braking and gearchange made before the curve, select your line and power it through. Always, you feel that much more speed could have been used, with never a twitch even on bumpy roads (unlike boxers). However, shutting the throttle or, worse, even thinking about the brakes, will cause it to immediately sit up and go straight through a hedge. It takes considerable self will to open the throttle hard when a machine is running wide.
Mine had a Michelin front and Roadrunner rear, wear being very low. V50s will run on just about any combination of tyres. Probably down to the chassis, with the cast alloy swinging arm running on taper rollers on the back of the gearbox. The forks could do with a fork brace to stop twisting but this never affected the overall stability so there’s no real need.
One summer’s evening in May I was going along the A38 when it treated me to a loud bang, a couple of seconds tinkling then silence The right-hand plug was oily and had the electrode snapped off, a dropped exhaust valve! A dealer reckoned it was a regular occurrence and reckoned they should be changed every 10,000 miles. The whole top end was scrap as the head was cracked and the chrome bore of the barrel was scored. The breaker only charged £50 for replacement bits.
The top end was much easier to replace than the air filter! The rear light bulb tended to blow regularly. Setting up the Dellorto carbs was a suck it and see procedure, but it can be done when stuck in traffic jams by ear and with a screwdriver conveniently carried in my boot. It was more or less impossible to operate the starter and throttle with the same hand and the speedo and tacho are the wrong way round, confusingly marked in a similar manner.
Most of the major components are reliable. The starters can give trouble due to their rather exposed location in front of the rider's left foot. I have heard rumours of gearbox failure but mine was fine. Though not a swift change, there were no false neutrals and gearing was agreeably high, suiting the torque of the motor and offering smooth, relaxed cruising. The dry plate clutch was rather abrupt but not too heavy and gave no trouble One nice touch was that it was possible to buy cable inners on their own, quite cheaply, which saved waste and expense.
It was a great bike on the occasions when it was in good health and the weather was fine. Riding with Tim's LC down the sugarwork's road in Shropshire, roaring through the Peak District at first light, the torque, the handling and the brakes all conspired to provide unforgettably good times. Unfortunately, there were all too many times it was limping home on one cylinder or simply in bits all over the house, while everyone else was out having fun.
One day I met a chap in Wolverhampton with a beautiful R-reg CB750, all gleaming, chrome and horsepower who said the V50 was just what he had always wanted. We agreed to swap. The V50 had tried my patience too many times, had been too unpredictable and was, sadly, just too badly made to be trustworthy. This was a real tragedy because it was potentially twice the bike of its contemporary, and main rival, the CX500, but it lacked that vital build quality. The 750 seemed a great wallowing beast after the V50 (it was) but it was always there, never failed to start and never broke down. Sure, I missed the Guzzi but the Honda was such a relief after the near constant repairs of the Guzzi. That memory is the one that will prevent me buying a Guzzi again, despite the happy memories of the open road.
Jon Everall
I had been suspicious that such an old motorcycle had only 17000 miles on the clock. But it looked beautiful, neither the nickel plated frame nor the original four into four exhaust had the slightest blemish… the bike had spent most of its time in the vendor’s spare bedroom! The test ride revealed why — the riding position was torture. A long petrol tank and low bars meant a huge amount of weight on my wrists. The CB needed a silly amount of effort to throw about in suburbia. Every time I braked hard the fairing screen threatened to cut my neck open.
I‘m a sucker tor motorcycles like this. though. Two and a half grand bought me a piece of motorcycling history. The original Honda 750 tours had such dodgy handling and excess of weight that Dresda and Rickman, amongst others, came out with frame kits to transform the breed. Rickman were later to opt for a more sensible touring rig, but I wasn’t put off by the single seat nor the singular nature of this particular model.
This one had wire wheels, albeit with some juicy alloy rims and a single disc at each end. The forward mounted front caliper. a huge lump of alloy, shows how old was the era of the Rickman. The Rickman torks were still enough to resist both brake dive and twisting from the surprisingly powertul front brake. It needed more muscle than modern bikers might expect but I found it a basically reliable periormer, well up to the 135mph top speed.
The engine was mostly a stock OHC CB750, even down to the OE airfilter. Slight rattles at low revs were the only sign of age. I knew that clutch knocking noises and transmission slop were just the same as on a brand new motor. The rearset gearchange linkage probably made the box even less precise than stock, but anyone who has spent a bit of time with old Hondas will be at home with the change. The best that could be said for the gearbox was that once a ratio was engaged it never slipped out again.
The final drive sprockets were far from stock, making first seem like third. The Rickman was maybe 50lb lighter than the original bike. which helped with the taller gearing, but some serious clutch abuse was often necessary to ensure that the engine didn’t die a death. Power was never vicious, the best rev range was 5000 to 7000rpm. There was enough to make life interesting and a relative lack of secondary vibes. The upper end of this rev range provided a 100mph cruising speed, when the screen and racing crouch began to hurt less. The chassis also preferred speed to slouching around in town. It wasn't that it wobbled or shook, it was commendably stable at most speeds, but the suspension didn't begin to work until 70mph was on the clock. A pot-hole in town went straight up my wickedly bent spine; a quick way to end up with either a slipped disc or hunchback.
The seat was reasonably well padded and the bum-stop was an excellent way of bracing my body at speed, although the shape of the frame dictated a high seat height which left me feeling perched way above the bike. It was the classic bum in the air, head in the clocks stance. Judging by the cat-calls I sometimes received in town it must've looked slightly absurd.
Tyres were thin Avons, the front wheel looking like it was a reject from a particularly frail moped! It actually held on to its line on the tarmac with great tenacity. although the steering never lost its heavy feel. I think the only time it would've done a wheelie was by using the engine and clutch so hard that they both broke.
In the first couple of months my main beef was with the drive chain, which stretched wildly every time I used the bike. A new piece of chain went on but this was no better, needing an adjustment every 250 to 300 miles. Every time the chain went out of adjustment the gearbox became almost unusable. The swinging arm pivot is a long way from the engine sprocket which might be why chains didn't last longer than 4500 miles! Maybe there was also a bit of mild misalignment.
When the engine started to misfire I had to tear off the half fairing and petrol tank just to get to the spark plugs. The ones that came out looked so ancient they probably came with the bike. Putting the fairing back on was a tedious affair as nothing seemed to line up. It was tempting to dump the plastic as it so restricted lock that a U-turn became a seven point turn in narrow roads and it was dead easy to lose the bike. The only thing that stopped me was that there wouldn't have been anywhere to put the clocks and light. The latter good for 75mph cruising on country roads. Another bit of poor design was soon revealed, the plastic front guard was held on with jubilee clips that allowed it to rattle loose, dancing with the tyre. It wasn't as if it stopped any of the water from being flung off the tyre on to the engine. Five minutes in the rain had the Rickman covered with crud. The guard was too delicate to support a mudflap. The minimal rear protection similarly allowed my back to be drenched in the rain.
These minor quibbles were no more than expected. I put them to the back of my mind with fast and furious runs down my favourite back roads. The echo of the across the frame four, the feeling of supreme security and the sheer exhilaration of being free on a wide open road all combined to get me high. The physical discomfort was submerged beneath the adrenalin buzz of intensified life on two wheels.
It was only when I pulled up for petrol after a couple of hundred miles of riding that I realised the wide seat, vibration and eccentric riding position made it difficult to stand upright, let alone stagger the few feet to pay the cashier. The vibes were evident in the way the fairing shook and from the tingles in the bars and pegs. It wasn't the soul destroying stuff of your average vertical twin but prolonged exposure to the high frequency buzz took its toll on my body.
Fuel, when riding on the open road. was the most surprising aspect of this bike. It turned in better than 60mpg. giving a range of over 200 miles. In town it wasn’t so good, nearer 50mpg. The CB had a rather archaic oil tank which needed a pint added every 500 miles. The mill didn't leak, apart from a slight weep around the cylinder. Carbs, valves and points all needed adjustment every 1500 miles. Tedious and time-consuming rather than difficult.
I soon leamt that the downside of nickel plating was the way it tarnishes rapidly; a wet day's riding was all it took to make the frame look naff. The OE exhaust also needed regular doses of Solvol to stop the cans turning rusty. They corrode from the inside out but are still whole after two years and about 10,000 miles of abuse. The Rickman plastic has lots of hairline cracks, but looks nice from a few feet away.
With around 25000 miles on the clock the camchain rattles rebounded off the plastic. I had tweaked the camchain tensioner a couple of times. apparently to little avail. The camchain was alright, the tensioner blade was worn down. I found one in a breaker's for a fiver. I'd had to pull the engine out to see what I was doing, so it was a tiresome business.
The chassis was made to a more robust standard than other cafe racers of the day. hasnt really caused any problems other than those which allow naturally from its riding position. The CB750 engine should be good for 50000 plus miles until any serious attention is needed, although those that were tuned or bored out didn't last so well, mainly down to insufficient lubrication and excessive revs.
As mentioned, mileage hasn't been too high, not that l distrust the Honda. it's just that there isn't much fun in using it for the commuter chores (thank god for the step-thru) and I don't have the time for month long holidays, more’s the pity. l was offered £3000 for it by some eager forty year old who reckoned he had spent his whole youth lusting after one. They are rare enough to demand a premium over the stock model. Unless I become desperate for money. I rather think I will keep it a long time.
Jake
