I became fixated on a Honda CX500, from the removal of constant drive chain hassles among other things. I started looking for one with a large fairing, quite a tall order in Ireland, as there aren’t many and their owners tend to hold on to them. But one day I saw a lovely job parked outside a spares shop in Belfast and I started talking to the owner. He had had it rebuilt, the rust removed from the frame and plastic coated. The tank and panels matched the white Rickman Polaris. It looked very classy and in gleaming good order. He told me he was looking for a car for winter and would probably be selling the CX, so I gave him my phone number.
Two or three weeks later he called me and said he wanted to sell. It appeared okay apart from the front tyre and the battery. A short test ride revealed no nasty clunks. It looked magnificent in its spotless white livery and the fairing actually enhanced the ugly shape of the tank and the two humps of the cylinders which gave the CX one of several sobriquets: The Camel (others are The Kettle and The Plastic Maggot).
l It had been love at first sight, anyway. I wanted it and was prepared to pay the rather high price of £600 for a 1980 machine with 30,000 miles on the clock. After all, it had been rebuilt, lovingly painted and maintained. I handed over the money and took my first real ride on the CX. The 30 miles back home was through the rain and in the dark. It was quite a change from the Benly, my previous mount. l was higher off the ground, the engine had a fine growling beat from the vee twin OHV motor with symphonic shaft drive whine.
I could zoom past everything in front of me, the fairing offered amazing protection and I could actually see in front of me, thanks to the excellent QH headlight. I rarely went out at night on the Benly as I was blinded by oncoming traffic and could often not see the road where there were no white lines or cats eyes. The beam was too low but I adjusted that on getting home, thinking nothing more of it. The slight up and down movement in the fairing didn’t register with me, either.
It turned out that the guy who had sold me the CX was much more interested in its appearance than in its performance. There wasn't a speck of mud or rust on it but it later transpired that the carbs were wildly out of balance, looking like they hadn't been touched for years. Apart from the dying battery and dead front tyre, it needed new fork seals and front brake pads. Then I started worrying about the poor fuel consumption (less than 40mpg) and the high consumption of air filters — you need to change them more often than the oil filters at £9 a time I have since heard about K & N long life replacements.
Oh well, it was more fun to ride, even if it was costing twice as much to run as the CD200. There was the problem of weight distribution. Within the first two weeks of having the CX I dropped it three times in my muddy lane — I couldn't pick it up without help. This was partially due to a condition I have called ME, which causes amongst other things muscle weakness. The bike was top heavy, down to the large if splendid fairing and the bike being simply, er, top heavy. So I have to be very careful to avoid embarrassment.
It transpired that the fairing wobble was due to a missing top bolt attaching it to the cylinder barrel through the radiator. This bolt had stripped itself out, but my knowledgeable friend said that the other three bolts would hold it on okay. So, after getting the minor leaks in the plumbing blocked with some aquarium sealant, l took the CX for its first long ride to Dublin, 100 miles away.
It was on the incredibly potholed Dublin streets that I noticed the fairing wobbling even more than before and the headlight pointing straight down on to the road in front of me The bracket on the other side to the missing bolt had broken and was just sitting on its belt. I rode home rather gingerly, hoping that air pressure would hold the fairing on!
It turned out that both threads in the cylinder barrels had been stripped, so they had to be carefully sleeved and the bracket had to be welded. At the same time the carbs were balanced and the tappets set.
The thorough and excellent mechanic who undertook all this also gave the rest of the bike the once over. The bill came to £100. So the handsome fairing proved a very expensive accessory. But it is new rock solid and will not fall off again.
A couple of days aftenivards I set off for Granada. I have always loved Islamic architecture, am in love with inland Spain and NE Portugal. I found myself hurtling southwards down the unbelievable English motorways. The Belfast ferry got into Liverpool an hour late, so I had exactly five hours to get to Dover and I couldn’t do more than 85mph because of the Krausers on the back — an additional expense, £70 for a new frame to fit the CX and £50 for a used set of panniers.
I arrived at Dover docks with five minutes to spare and was whisked through on to the boat with marvellous efficiency. This was quite in contrast to the surly ineptitude of the Belfast-Liverpool ferry, where I discovered to my horror that morning, after a night's voyage, that the bike hadn't even been lashed down. Two dainty little wooden chocks had been placed against the wheels; just as well the sea had been like glass.
From Calais I headed for Paris where I could stay with a friend. This was okay, the French tollways are pretty good, it's only where the motorways are free, around Paris, that the mayhem and tail-backs occur. But any biker who goes to Paris this way should be warned of the section of motorway just before you come into Paris. This is an old experimental stretch, finely grooved to assist drainage When you hit it on a bike you're convinced that you have a double puncture; the bike goes all over the road, very frightening. There are signs up but you can't see them in the dark, I had a few minutes before I realised why the bike was out of control at more than 30mph.
The comfort of the Honda was limited, doing Liverpool to Paris in one day meant I needed 48 hours to recover from the engine throb in my head. The splendid growl became oppressive after 150 miles. I had done nearly 500 miles, almost entirely on motorways between Liverpool and Paris in November on a bike still new to me, and I definitely suffered from what the French called decalage (travel lag).
After my little rest, l headed towards Spain from Paris, partly by motorway, with little diversions to provide some interest. The further south I went the more I realised that I was going to dread the return journey. I also realised that when you're on your own aboard a bike there isn't a lot you can do except ride or not ride. My shoulders started to ache and my right wrist became sore My right leg and knee tended to seize up after 100 miles. The whining and growling engine were no longer music to my ears. It became so bad that I decided to turn back and take it easy visiting friends between Bordeaux and Calais.
I had thought taking the CX to Spain would be an exhilarating adventure, but it turned out to be very boring and tiring instead. The CX is a cumbersome beast, not a bike to go fast on but cruise sedately along as befits a 47 yearold DHSS scrounger and RAC member. It is rock steady with no vibration, up to 90mph at any rate — once you get used to a certain twitchiness in right-hand cornering due to the power pulses through the shaft. I haven't got the ton up, what with the fairing and Krausers full of wine and cheese.
lts favourite speed is 80mph, and it is also a pleasure to ride in its expansive top gear from 50mph up: a good bike to enjoy a view from but heavy to manoeuvre in and out of garages and parking spaces. lts seat is as comfortable as the Benly's though the riding position is a bit more crouched and tiring. My feet can easily touch the ground. But petrol consumption, what with the fairing and loaded panniers, was never better than 40mpg on the whole trip — which isn’t at all good for an otherwise excellent tourer. I think it's I who am not the excellent tourer, but merely a short distance rider.
The return trip was interesting; murderous three lane motor ways with stationary traffic because of too many junctions —- after overheating in a crawl (behind a traffic control vehicle) through the Dartford tunnel. Perhaps I shall try again next year, I have to justify £500's worth of CX somehow.
Anthony Weir