"Yes, you can have a motorcycle son, but nothing larger than 150cc, and even they can be killers." That’s what my ol’ chap said to me in January 1965. Miserable sod! He knew I wanted a 250 Honda. I was sixteen and a half and had some very hard earnt money burning a hole in my pocket for a deposit. What else could I do? I was Honda mad, so I bought a CB92.
The garage where I worked had a relationship with a motorcycle shop in a small town nearby. So when I arrived at work on Wednesday, the CB92 I was planning to buy had been delivered. It was a 1964 Benly Super Sports in blue and silver. Although it was ten months old it had 10,000 miles on the clock, which was rather a lot for a small, high performance machine.
On starting the engine, a rattle from the camchain was audible, but this disappeared after a tweak on the adjuster. A few scruff marks and non-standard ace bars revealed that it had once been dropped, but everything else appeared fine.
The CB92 has a twin cylinder engine displacing 124cc, with a single OHC and single carb, developing 15hp at 10,000rpm. The chassis was pressed steel with no down tube, the engine used as a stressed member. The front end was dominated by a massive TLS brake in an 18" wheel, close fitting sports mudguard, a leading link pressed steel fork, topped by a rectangular headlamp and flyscreen. The hammerhead shaped tank had large rubber knee grips, the red seat only just large enough to accommodate two people (pillion rests were not a standard fitting). The swinging arm was also pressed steel and the shocks were adjustable between hard and bloody hard. Back then, a CB92 looked like it was doing 60mph even when stationary.
The CB92 was not the 50mph runabout my old man had intended (unless there was a headwind). At normal revs, below six grand, it was just a plodder but drop a cog or two and wind the revs up, and it would really fly. It would see off most of the Brit 250s (given a decent road and no wind), like Fanny B’s, Ariels, etc.
One of my mates had a C15 which developed 14hp. The CB92 would be out in front of that, until you came to a hill or a slight wind, then the C15’s superior torque helped it get in front. It was no good trying to take on a Continental GT or Golden Arrow, though. Once, when a group of us went to Mallory Park, the journey up the A5 was one long burn-up with me holding the CB92 at maximum revs in third gear (60mph) for mile after mile with no ill effects. Good job it wasn’t fitted with a rev counter, although one was available as an optional extra.
The handling was generally good once the quick-slip Jap tyres had been replaced. The suspension was hard and there was even a steering damper fitted. If anything, the Honda was overbraked for its performance, that front drum was a real stopper. Top speed was between 80 and 85mph, the smooth four speed box well matched to the power delivery.
Despite the 6V electrics, which gave no trouble, an electric start was fitted, but I never used this from cold. A nice touch was a lever that allowed adjustment of the front headlamp. The engine only took one and a half pints, so the oil had to be changed every 500 miles, made up for by fuel consumption around the 90mpg mark.
I ran the bike for 6000 miles in nine months, selling it after I passed my test for £30 less than I paid for it. It was just beginning to burn oil on one pot and three months later the new owner had to fit new pistons, although the bike lasted to at least 1970, which was the last time I saw it. Next came a CB72, the Japanese 250 of the day. Where I lived there were hardly any Yams and the only Suzukis were mundane T10 tourers (until ‘66 when the T20 Super Six came out). My Dream Super Sport was a ’62 model with fairly high miles and rattled a bit. It was a bit tatty so I was able to obtain it for £ 120. Most of the work was cosmetic, a respray to everything except frame sorted that out.
Handling was dodgy at the best of times, a new set of rear shocks helped but the front forks lacked damping and topped out. The engine formed part of the frame but this didn’t seem to help the handling at all. Two up riding was really bad. The 'in' tyres, back then, were Avon Speedmasters Mk2. Most un-Honda like the brakes were hopeless. The dealer claimed new pads had been fitted and I should bring it in.
I did, to my cost. I was following a plonker in a Land Rover who decided to turn right at the last moment, having no indicators he stuck his hand out of the window. I had the choice of hitting the back of the Land Rover, the front of the oncoming car or trying to squeeze between them. Naturally I chose the latter and just got through, brushing Farmer Giles' hand in the process. When I looked back he was shaking his fist at me, but I didn’t stop. The bastard reported me, and that cost me eleven quid and an endorsement. At least the dealer fixed the brakes for nothing.
The CB72 was advanced in its day. It was a twin cylinder, SOHC with twin carbs, a 180 degree crank, 12V electrics and 24hp at 9000rpm. You could always tell when one was coming in the night by the brightness of its excellent headlamp, and like the smaller bike it was fitted with an electric starter that didn’t inspire much confidence from cold starts. After I overcame the initial problems with the CB, it was OK but not as good as expected.
After a couple of months oil started seeping out of the breather pipe so I knew all was not well. I decided to strip the top end, which required removal of the engine. The most difficult part of stripping an old Honda is actually undoing the grotty engine screws - an impact driver and large hammer are necessary. The pistons were really cream crackered, no wonder she didn’t go so well. They turned out to be 4th oversize. After I rebuilt the engine there was an enormous improvement in performance and I was really pleased with it.
I only kept it for three months, with only the additional problem of silencers splitting near their mounting brackets - most Hondas had their silencers replaced after three years due to this rather the later quick rot tendencies. One neat point were the adjustable footrests mounted on a neat alloy plate, three different positions were available.
I sold the CB72 because a friend had a CB77 for sale, which he’d owned from new and was in superb condition. It was late ’66 by then, and it was a '64 model registered in September of that year, so it was not quite two years old. It was fitted with a Craven 4 gal tank, racing seat, clip-ons, rear- sets and Goldstar silencers. A really beautiful Peel Mountain fairing came with it plus all the stock parts. All for £150. Too much of a bargain to turn down, because the 305 was not very popular with the CB450 Black Bomber making its presence felt, and the 250 learner laws meaning I managed to unload the CB72 for £130.
The engine was completely virgin, rattle free and smooth. The Goldie silencers gave it a distinctive sound. And what a flier. Once I fitted the fairing a genuine 100mph was available from the 28hp motor. The 305 was quite a small bike, physically, by today's standards, but fairly large by the sixties standards — if you know what I mean. The differences between 250 and 350 were minimal, setting the trend for later machines. The 305 weighed in at a mere 325lbs.
Speeds in the gears were 40, 60, 80 and 100mph (lying on the tank). Once, when I was overtaking a car I was in second gear when a plonker pulled out from a concealed entrance — not to worry, I screwed it on in second, the revs went up and she really flew along. The bike went all smooth and silky, like it wasn’t even on the road anymore - looking down at the combined speedo/rev counter showed 11000rpm and 72mph; I changed up a bit quick!
A few months later I went up to Manchester from just south of Oxford. The journey took just two and a half hours, a record, never broken by me since, even 20 years later with much more motorway and a variety of high powered cars available to me. Still, there was a lot less traffic about then, eh?
The 305's handling was better than my previous 250, partly thanks to the non—standard shocks on the rear. When I changed the rear tyre I used a 3.25 x18 instead of the stock 3.00 x 18, helping the frightening tyre wear (5000 miles) but not doing much for the handling. It was safe enough, you could chuck it about OK, the limiting factor grounding of the fairing - I often used to leave white marks on the tarmac of my favourite bends.
During the winter of ’66/67, on the way to work, the power dropped off and blue smoke began pouring out of the left-hand pot. I thought the rings had broken, but it turned out there was a hole in the piston — probably due to the Goldie silencers, although the carbs had been jetted up.
After I’d run the bike in, I did an ignition timing and tappet check, using a large ring spanner to turn the engine over on the alternator rotor bolt. After I’d finished I kicked the engine over and the spanner went flying. I thought no more of it. On the way home a knocking sound came from the bottom end of the engine. Damn it, I thought, the new pistons had been too much for the big-ends. I dropped the engine out in twenty minutes (I was getting used to this) What a wally, it was only a loose alternator rotor. When I put it all back together it wouldn’t tick over properly, instead of the regular 500/600rpm, it was a very erratic 2000rpm. It took me an hour to discover that the slides had been mixed up, so the cutout on the slide was at the front not the back.
How can you be a wally twice in one day? Well, you can. Late in the ’67 season I went to Mallory Park to cheer Mike Hailwood on when he was wiping the floor with the opposition on the superb Honda 297 six. When I arrived I discovered my sandwiches were floating in orange juice when the top of the container had come off (have you ever tried eating orange flavoured cheese sandwiches?). Then I discovered I’d placed my helmet down in a large cow pat. Then, to top it all, when I returned to the bike it had fallen over on the soft ground, and the bracket had gone through the side of the sodding fairing. I could have cried.
On another trip, to Brands Hatch, I was with a guy on an A10. On the way back, going up Death Hill, my mate's A10 was giving some bother. He was behind me but in the outside lane, when I looked back to check on him and returned my vision to the front I found a chap on a Suzuki Super Six had decided to stop. Now, Honda brakes may be good, but they are not that good. So, wallop, straight up his backside I went and over the handlebars. Falling off your motorcycle is one thing, but doing it in front of 10,000 or so fellow race watchers is quite another. The Suzi suffered a bent number plate, and I had the fairing to repair, again.
The only other major problem I had with the 305 was the gearbox. The kickstart, which was unusable with the fairing fitted, began to move on its own and jam against the fairing. Then a whine started in third gear. Time to have a look, out came the engine, again. This time the top end was left alone and the crankcases split after removing the covers, clutch, primary gears, etc. The bearings and layshaft were completely gone. I waited three weeks and had to pay £12 for a shaft (a year later a complete exchange crank for my Mini cost £7). It was interesting to note that there was no gasket between the crankcase halves, yet it never leaked a drop of oil.
In August ’67 when I went from my home to Halifax with my cousin and his mate (they on Norton 600 and 650), not only did the Honda set the pace for them on the motorway (70 to 80mph) but the CB returned much better mpg figures. Of course, the Nortons could run rings around me on road holding, but in a straight line the 305 was faster than the 600 and not far behind the 650 (all without their vibes).
The main event that I shall never forget from that trip was this: 1967 was the year of the Foot & Mouth epidemic on the Lancashire/Yorkshire border and a large trough had been built across the road, filled with disinfectant. All around it were flashing lights and slow signs. But this prat in an A60 (that’s a car) Austin obviously didn't see it, cos he tried to cross it at about 50mph. The car leapt into the air, the boot came undone and a suitcase full of clothes was ejected into the disinfectant. There were socks, shirts and things floating about. Well, we couldn’t ride properly for laughing. I haven’t laughed so much since my ol’ chap painted his Morris 8 with black Valspar and three million flies landed on it!
As mentioned previously, the kickstart was unusable due to the fairing, which put an enormous amount of work on the electric starter, driven by a chain via a roller clutch. Every so often, I had to remove the clutch, remove the three rollers and replace the three inertia springs which used to get bits chopped off them. About twenty minutes work and really silly money for three tiny springs.
Towards the end of ’67 I put the bike back to standard, including straight bars and mirrors, but not the silencers. This didn’t help the handling very much as it seemed to like weight over the front wheel, riding two- up for a long distance could turn out a real bind.
I had a big decision to make, buy the CB450 or go for four wheels and try to pull some birds. Well, the bird (now the wife) won. I sold all the fancy bits, but, despite advertising in all known places, just couldn’t shift the 305 (as well as the CB450 there was also the Suzuki T500 getting up the noses of Bonnie owners), so traded it in for a Mini van (yes, really) for £90.
My last view of it was sitting all nice and clean and shiny in a garage in Oxford, as I drove my Mini van away. Boy, what I wouldn't give to go back in time and bring it back today.
Lawrence Casidy