The Great UJM Hunt

No-one has come close to the sheer sophistication and efficiency with which the Japanese are able to churn out four cylinder motorcycles. So well developed and designed are these complex and complicated pieces of engineering that, in their more moderate forms, they are treated as mere basic machines, hence the term, Universal Japanese Motorcycle. Though, today, the race replica four rules, UJM's are still produced by most of the Japanese factories.

They have their engineering heritage firmly in the first fours, which were treated, back in the late sixties and early seventies, as miraculous pieces of engineering at a time when the British motorcycle industry refused to dump their pushrods designs in favour of OHCs and the Italians were churning out unreliable junk or expensive classics. The defining moment, engineering-wise, in the UJM was the Z1 rather than the earlier CB750, the latter burdened with such antiquities as a separate oil tank and chain (albeit hyvoid) primary drive.

The Z1's day in the sun wasn't one of ubiquity, though, its 900cc DOHC engine as renown for its power as the chassis was for its general nastiness. Nevertheless, all the elements of its engine were to appear again and again in subsequent designs. In later days, Honda were to expend much more of its time, energy and money on its water-cooled designs rather than the old-world air-cooled jobs. Give Honda the credit for getting there first, showing what was possible, and Kawasaki the kudos for redefining the design a few years later.

That original CB750, for all of its design deficiencies, soon gained a reputation for toughness - not difficult in an era when early Commandos were renown for wrecking their crankshafts and most Jap stroker rivals would burn out in less than 20000 miles. They do need regular oil changes (every 500 miles as they become older) and proper maintenance sessions at 1000-1500 miles, but even neglected examples can skip through the 40000 mile mark. 100000 miles is possible, by then most of the engine will be comprehensively trashed and in need of a complete rebuild unless lavished with loads of TLC, the chassis will be unspeakable.

Handling was limited both by excessive mass and weak suspension, the latter relatively easily sorted; not as evil as the Z1, partly because it wasn't as fast. Though early ones are considered classics, the last of the series - K6/7s & F1/2s both - are definitely in UJM territory, as cheap as they are useful. There are still some that have had a minimum of owners and been well looked after at around the £1000 mark, though the Fs were of passing interest to the speed merchants (if laughably slow by modern standards) and had a tendency to explode when the day went bad. A compression test on their top end's a good idea.

The CB750F2 was replaced by the DOHC 750, along with a very similar 900 version - these KZ’s had an excess of power (for the day), brutal handling and poor reliability this was an era when Hondas became synonymous with naff camchain tensioners, and the rot could go a lot deeper in these fours which were far from up to the spec of their rivals. Best ignored as an UJM unless you get desperate and they turn up cheap.

The CB750/900KZs were replaced by the CBX750, a design which blended performance, handling and reliability as well as minimal maintenance (automatic valve clearance adjustment) in a way that few near 500Ib fours had managed before. It was perhaps a bit too fast and sporting to make it as an UJM but there's no denying their usefulness at £1500 for something with about 30000 miles on the clock. Look for top end damage as the first sign of demise, usually after 50000 miles, though I've seen bikes with twice that on the clock still going strong.

Any pretensions to speed the CBX might've possessed were lost to a deluge of race replicas, instead Honda turned the motor mild and the styling classic, used their original four's designation in a failed attempt to take the nostalgia market by storm. In the States they were marketed more successfully as a very cheap entry level bike; no such luck in the moribund UK market (at least until the 600 Bandit came along to rattle the cage). As a 75hp 750cc four it's way over-engineered (and could usefully lose three carbs and the rear disc), therefore usefully tough; two grand up buys a CB750 still in jolly good nick. Test ride well, though.

More realistically in the UJM frame was the OHC CB650, an engine design that also stretched from the Jap market 350, through our own much loved CB400F to the classical CB500 four and the useful CB550F. The 550 emerged as the best of the bunch, having that extra little bit of performance that the 400 was lacking, whilst the 650 could turn fragile if ridden really hard - many 650's managed to lead quiet lives in mature hands; the odd bargain still turns up on the private market, though dealers try to off-load the usual nasty dross.

Classic in appearance, useful in performance and easily upgraded to a good handling machine, the CB500 four would make it as a perfect UJM except that it's so old that it's become the target of wannabe collectors; which can only be considered a great waste of a fine motorcycle.

The CB400F was one of the first Japanese motorcycles to have an ergonomic riding position, it was also compact and relatively light (based as it was on CB360 chassis parts). It only rock and rolled on the back of revs but, unusually for a Honda four, was let down by quick wear piston rings. It took a while for this fact to get through to the enthusiasts who thought they were the real thing, most have now been run into the ground but rats make viable low end UJMs at less than 500 notes. At least the 350/650s had a relatively modern wet-sump design, lacked the transmission lash and anti-theft gearchange action of the original Honda CB750.

One variant on the Honda four theme worthy of note's the DOHC version of the 650. Mildly custom in appearance it had both a tougher and more powerful engine than the OHC model; quite a lot of Yank imports turn up, as well as the equally useful 700cc version. As long as you don't want to go above the ton, when the handling turns dire, they are pretty useful bits of kit at £750 to £1500.

The 650cc four was long marketed by the Japanese as the ideal compromise between power, weight and handling, though in reality they usually weighed nearly as much as the 750's. Kawasaki had a long run with their Z650 even though it lacked the inherent toughness of the mighty Z1's engine design. Though it could sometimes make it through the 100000 mile mark it only did so on the back of religious oil changes and at the price of almost complete disintegration of its chassis, most of the metal rusting from the inside out. Other than imports, most are now a bit too far gone to be of much interest as UJMs.

The same engine design turns up in 400, 500 and 550cc variants. The Z500 had a reputation of wrecking its camchain but later parts could sort this - more or less. The Z400 didn't have a happy blend of power and weight, was usually run into the ground without much TLC but was a tough enough nut to crack.

The 550 emerged as having the best blend of power, reliability and handling, appeared in loads of different variants. Perhaps the ultimate UJM, the shaft drive GT550 was much loved by DRs and run for unlikely mileages on the minimum of maintenance (they regularly go through the 100000 mile barrier, some have done over twice that). Most of the mods to it, over years, have concentrated on increasing the torque rather than trying to fundamentally reform the breed.
Prices run from free for something that's finally died a death to around three grand for an immaculate, low miler.

The GPz550 took the motor further - one of the few bikes that could be ridden mildly and turn in good economy (60-70mpg) whilst also being able to go into killer mode. It was sold on its sporting pretensions, but was really an UJM in disguise. As useful as they are, the speed boys destroyed most of them over the past five years.

The later alternatives are the Zephyrs. These have mild UJM motors hidden in modern-retro styling. The 750 will have old Z650 owners all nostalgic but along with the 550 and 1100, the constraints of taking an old engine design into the modern world adds up to poor economy and indifferent handling. Nowhere near as dangerous as the old seventies Kawasaki fours, mind. The portly 1100 Zephyr has a heavy appetite for fuel and consumables but its motor is well developed and tough, whilst the handling limits the degree of thrashing it's likely to get; therefore, bargains at £2000 to £3000 can be picked up on the private market with a minimum of mileage. Some of the 550's and 750's have been run into the ground, their finish not the best in the world.

The GT750's similar to the 550 version, again famed for doing large mileages though not as totally indestructible as the 550 and rather heavier going for town work. The early ones are especially worthy of care when purchasing high milers. The same goes for the Z750, perhaps the best bargains being grey imports of the custom version from the States, £1000 up.

As mentioned, the Z1 wasn't really an UJM but its successors, the Z1000 and 21100 certainly were. Not that the engine had changed to any wild degree just that the times had moved on and what had been leading edge became merely yet another Japanese four, albeit one of the toughest in the business. As with modern Triumphs, this strength was reflected in excessive build quality that meant the 550lbs of metal was always going to be hard work.

A whole list of chassis mods - alloy swinging arm, Koni shocks, fork brace, expensive tyres, etc - helped keep the beast on the road. Used ones are thus a mixed bag of hard ridden wannabe dogs from the speed merchants to mildly toured machines that haven't come close to having their mechanical limits tested. It is possible to wreck the crankshaft under massive abuse but it's extremely rare. You usually have to bolt on a turbocharger!

The only other Japanese engine to equal, if not better, the Z1's toughness was the GS550. Again, excessive mass was the result of such sterling build quality, So much so that its 54 horses never made much impression on forward motion! Notable was its steady handling, secure and safe if slow turning, only possibly spoilt by a nefarious set of twin discs that reacted to British winters not at all well. Quick rot also afflicted the exhaust but so mildly tuned was the engine that it would run on straight through pipes if necessary.

The GS550 was only mildly related to the 16 valve GSX400F, which had an inadequate sump, could go as far as ruining its crankshaft. A pity because its relative lack of mass meant it shifted as well as the 550. You can pick up rat 400s for as little as £300, something that's impossible for the 550, so well has its tough reputation permeated the motorcycle community.

The GS550 turned up in Katana clothes, an improvement in styling but rather less comfortable with no better performance. The GS650 Kat, however, had a neatly tuned GS650GT mill despite retaining the shaft drive and was thus rather popular with the speed boys in its day. Although 650 GTs lasted longer than Kats, neither had the toughness of the 550, nor for that matter the 750, which started off the GS range of fours.

In its day, the GS750 was notable for its fine handling, tough motor and good performance. It was, for a while, the best 750 around. These days it only makes it as an UJM, and there are still plenty running around, most of them with sensible suspension mods. The maniacs could explode the clutch, the signs of age found in a less than slick gearbox (always one of the GS series better points). A couple of grand's needed to find one of the excellent examples.

Whilst the GS750 was probably the best balanced of the GS range, the GS1000 took the idea a tad too far. Whatever extra power it made was hard to use, and internal pressure on the motor could lead to a relatively early demise if basic maintenance was neglected. Given a bit of TLC, though, like the whole GS range, it could go around the clock, the major price paid in disintegrating chassis components and brakes.

The GSX series that replaced the GS's had 16 valve heads that needed a bit more attention but had a happier blend of power and mass. The earlier examples had twin shock rear ends in a desperate need of an upgrade - usually, an alloy swinging arm was added as well. Of the 550, 750 and 1100cc models, the 550 was perhaps the most useful as an UJM and decent ones, including the later, better handling, mono-track versions (if you ignore the twitchy 16 inch front end), can be bought for around the grand mark.

Amazingly, the retro looks of latest GSX750 are offered rather than the 750 Bandit available in other markets, though they are based on the same GSXR derived air/oiled cooled motors. Too new to be of interest here, but the 600 and 1200 Bandits just come within the UJM remit - if you want to stretch a point offer reasonable handling and excellent performance. The 600 Bandit being of especial interest as mild use of the throttle returns 60 to 65mpg. The 1200's tend to be ridden by wheelie maniacs, suffer accordingly. With either model, a great deal of care's needed to ensure that the bike hasn't been ruined.

Safer if slower ground is found on the Yamaha 600 and 900 Diversions. The latter is right out of the seventies as regards its excessive mass but doesn't suffer any major mechanical traumas. The 600 only makes 60 horses, tends to be strung along flat out when the single front disc can prove lacking in power. Beware of hidden crash damage and high milers that have been clocked. Perhaps the ultimate modern UJM, the XJ600N - a naked Divvie - was on sale for as little as £3500 new by the shadow importers in 1997 and really immaculate ones can be had for three grand on the used market. Older ones, still good buys, with less than 20 thou on the clock, go for around two thousand notes.

Although they share neither design nor any components, the inspiration for the Divvies come from the old XJ series, which ranged from Jap market 400s to the UK's much loved XJ900. The latter started off poorly, equipped with a handlebar fairing that caused some nasty speed wobbles. Though later models, with their half fairings, were excellent in their stability when new, once some wear got into the suspension - after, say, 30000 miles - the weaves came back in all their glory. Nevertheless, many of the 900s made it around the clock without exploding or being written off, but mostly in the hands of mature riders.

Some old heap can be had for less than £500, spruced up with a raid on the breakers. With the more expensive stuff check that the suspension ain't ruined and that the calipers aren't about to die a death. Really worn examples, over 80000 miles, can also suffer from cracked wheels as well as all the usual rot. £1500 can either buy something in lovely condition or a bike about to expire; quite a lot of dross about. The XJ750 was closely related to the 900, had some of its toughness but.never sold in any great quantities in the UK.

If the XJ900 could prove heavy and unwieldy at times, the 600 version was much more compact and useful; even had more power than the modern Diversion. It wasn't in the same league as the GPz550, more or less making it as the perfect embodiment of the UJM. It had a passing popularity as a DR hack where it proved to be reasonably tough but not up to continuous neglect of oil changes. A shot gearchange easy evidence of high mileages and/or abuse. The good ones that have been well tended reflect their easy life by retaining the sheen in their finish; the hard used examples look pretty awful. Some bargains out there at £1000, but it takes a bit of effort to track them down.

Both the XJ550 and shaft driven XJ650 have reacted to old age by wearing out without much dignity everything from ruined chassis bearings to knocking crankshafts; a veritable minefield of possible expensive problems. They do come up very cheaply and it's not impossible to shoehorn a later XJ600 engine into the unwilling chassis. Passable UJMs in their day, now more likely to be rolling deathtraps.

Whichever Japanese four you chose - and many people are addicted to certain model ranges - there's loads of good technology hidden within their engine cases. Just because they are universal doesn't mean they can't be it fun, especially if a bit of effort's put in to upgrading their chassis.

Mike R.Bracley

Kawasaki GPX250

Humble beginnings often lead to great things but trading in my RXS100 for a prime GPX250 nearly did for me. The day I picked the bike up from the dealer’s, London traffic was locked up solidly. Spying a fast disappearing gap, I gave the GPX some throttle in second gear. GPXs need at least seven grand before they begin to shift and I was starting from 3000rpm.

The bike began to move for the traffic gap but just when I was expecting acceleration to pick up, the motor developed a fit of the stutters. The gap was closing fast with two cagers likely to slam-dunk me into the next world. Finally the motor caught mightily, elevated the front wheel and charged through the unlikely hole with just the odd millimetre to spare. I screamed in celebration.

This was to be a constant irritation on the GPX. Certain days when it was especially humid the engine developed a strong reluctance to rev cleanly. It was a peaky unit at the best of times, a water-cooled, eight valve twin that needed the same kind of care on the throttle and gearbox as a peaky stroker. However, every time I went back to the dealer to complain, the problem disappeared! I tried many different things to sort it - from very expensive spark plugs to using leaded petrol, but they made not one bit of difference. Talked to a couple of GPX250 riders - one reckoned it was something that happened alter some wear got into the engine, the other had no problems that he would admit to. The clock on mine read only 7300 miles, just run in for a Kawasaki, according to the grinning dealer.

To nearly kill oneself on the first ride doesn’t exactly endear a machine to you, but after the learner it had so much more performance that I soon overcame my initial hesitation - it anyway ran much better if the mill was kept above 8000rpm! It was an odd old motor, mind, with 40 horses on call but they were never backed up by any of the vertical twin torque that you might expect. Both power and torque were supposed to peak at 11000 revs but anything approaching a steep hill would have me pumping the gearbox down one or even two gears to keep the momentum up.

The DOHC engine really howled away flat out in fourth gear, the buzz that ran through the chassis not that unpleasant - motor and frame well matched to absorb what little vertical twin vibration was produced by the engine at most revs. The six speed gearbox wasn't quite slick, nor brilliantly spaced either - always seemed to be in the wrong ratio. Whilst changes didn’t cause any trauma when I was having fun and games on the throttle, trying to engage gear while clumping along at low revs was another matter. The gearbox just didn’t want to know, the poor old drive chain fluttering away like it wanted to tear itself apart. Which judging from the frequency of adjustment was exactly what it was doing - every couple of days; every day if it rained!

I did find lining the wheels up a chore, as the marks on the adjusters told lies and I had to do it by eye. Also, tightening up the spindle nearly always made the back wheel move slightly. It was crucial both to attain the correct chain adjustment and make sure that the wheels were in line - otherwise the gearbox went really nasty and the handling turned very flighty. The 310Ib machine always had a nervous feel from both of the narrow sixteen inch wheels, but get them slightly out of line and it'd try to twitch its way off the road.

The GPX didn’t look at all light, with its huge expanse of plastic that was already dated when it came out, but both in real terms and in feel it weighed next to nowt. In terms of getting the most from the engine power lack of mass is obviously a good thing, but with sixteen inch wheels geometry and weight distribution assume massive importance. The GPX was far from being spot on but rarely dangerous. The flightiness of the chassis wasn’t that different to my RXS which was knocked around by road bumps and even white lines. The major difference was that instead of 60mph silliness to contend with, the GPX would howl along at 100 to 110mph!

As far as the engine was concerned the top speed was a viable cruising velocity but the chassis went all weird above 90mph. The suspension just wasn’t up to such excessive speeds, going all weak at the knees. Where the quick turning and light mass really gave the machine an edge was through the tighter curves. I still had the impression that the front wheel had a mind of its own, but it didn’t get too out of line. The bike could be hurled from side to side with hardly any effort and thrown inside those lumbering replicas as they hastily braked for the bend. Their riders weren't quite as amused about that as I was.

One time, though, the very swiftness of the front's reaction caught me completely unaware. A bit of cow shite on the entrance to a series of switchbacks went unnoticed until the front wheel touched it. The next thing I knew I was flying through the air, the Japlop had lost its grip and flipped away at an incredible rate. No warning twitch or anything, just a dose of gravel rash. The only good thing.was that speed was relatively mild. Bruised elbow and torn jeans were the major damage to yours truly, plus a nice gash in the helmet.- loads of street credibility there. After I got over the shock, I decided I was lucky the bike hadn't fun me down!

The Kawasaki had lost its momentum by spinning around, taking a nice slice out of a hedgerow and dancing along a bank by the of the road. Bent bars, dented exhaust scratched plastic, plus the usual ruined indicators and back light in a thousand bits. When the shakes had died down, I was able wobble home without too much effort. Some bargaining with the breaker and bodging in the early hours of morning soon had the GPX back on the road. Oh, I also fitted a set of Michelin tyres, not wanting to trust the worn Japlops again. You live and learn, as the saying goes.

Since buying the bike I’ve done 8700 miles, had no other major problems. No major expenses except the tyres and fuel at 50-55mpg - the nasty old chain’s still going strong! Given the peaky handling and wild front wheel, I don’t think it’s a brilliant bike to move up to from a mild 125, but experienced motorcyclists will probably find it a handy little second bike or it could even be used as a sole machine by someone after cheap insurance and road tax. I’m not surprised they didn’t last very long, two years is hardly a major model life, is it? The engine turned up in the ZZ-R250, so some hope for spares. A detuned version’s used in the EL250 but not even I would want one of those.

Phil Pearson

Japanese Thumpers

There are many different kinds of Japanese singles. From the old and simple Yam SR500 (still produced in Japan) to the modernity of the Kawasaki KLX650. Few, if any, make real sense of the possibilities of the breed. Vibration limiting power and adding unwanted mass in the larger designs, whilst those mild of nature but rarely have any compensatory torque or economy. Only in the relatively. modern 250cc thumpers, where there’s little vibration to absorb, does the genre shine at all brightly but their cost, even under a competitive regime of grey imports usually limits the market.

The Japanese, themselves, have to take a lot of the blame. The home market dominated by the craze for retro style, little thought given to extracting that happy blend of fun, torque and economy in which fifties British thumpers so profoundly revelled (saving that it took a few years to appreciate their vibes). Ignorance is bliss, as usual. Also, Jap retro thumpers are sold at prime prices, having an effect on the pricing of grey imports; the cheaper ones usually well faded if not completely worn out.

The market's further confused by the penchant of manufacturers for dumping some neat and advanced thumper technology into highly strung trailster chassis, the resulting mess needing some extra work to make it suitable for serious joy riding - at least the need to make a passing stab at off-road credibility means that mass reduction goes in the right direction, at least on some examples

Other quaint habits of Japanese thumpers include cutting out at junctions due to lack of flywheel mass, difficult starting as it’s still an acquired art on bikes without electric boots, disintegrating electrics as most thumpers still vibrate when used in anger despite complex, power sapping balancer systems, and less than brilliant reliability despite the paucity of components (which in turn should, but rarely does, mean they can be made from lighter, higher grade alloys and steels).

Bear all of this in mind when trying to track down a good deal. Also, many singles, especially those used off-road, end up in a rather dilapidated state after just a few years of not particularly heavy abuse or high mileage. Nothing in their initial high cost is reflected in their relatively poor build quality, often new bikes overpriced by a factor of two; an astonishing feat only matched by the rapidity of their decline and depreciation! So a weird mixture of stuff on the used market, but plenty of bargains around to keep the keen shopper on a roll.

Of the 250 singles, both the Yamaha SRX250 and Honda GB250 stand out as worthy of note. Managing to blend low mass, reasonable power, good frugality and splendid style is an all too rare feat in Japanese motorcycle engineering. These grey imports come close enough but those over five years old, despite their low mileage (at least on the clocks), are almost always well worn out, both physically and internally. These elderly survivors are at least cheap at under a grand but the better deals cost twice that for bikes a mere two years old with less than 5000 miles under their wheels. Choosing between the two merely a matter of style - both the retro Honda and modern Yamaha having their adherents. Whereas the Honda can, along with the similar CBX250, suffer spontaneous combustion of its electrics, the Yamaha can blow its top end without much warning, but recent low milers, at around £2000-£2500 have no such concerns.

The CBX250 took over from the CB250RS, the older bike having gained a reputation as a sort of four stroke MZ, blending performance and handling in a package that was better than most of the Japanese 250 twins. Alas, the usual abuse, especially from despatch riders, ruined the engine in as little as 20000 miles. All but the odd one-owner, much loved, RS has disappeared off our roads on the back of its built-in obsolescence and being a one-time favourite amongst the DR fraternity. Chances are that any that turn up on the used market are just about ready to die, so treat with a degree of care.

The CBX250 modernized the RS in all areas, especially with its DOHC engine that it shares with the later GB. An excellent bike if you never want to go much above 90mph, it was hounded out of the market rapidly because it was priced at absurd levels when new. Relatively rare when new, the odd used one turns up for £500 to £750; occasionally twice, that in the more insanely rapacious dealer's showroom.

The 250cc market being the most popular in Japan, and the most suited to thumper technology, there are many variants on the same theme but none of them quite match either the Honda’s or Yamaha's merging of characteristics. Perhaps the most interesting’s the neon-classic Kawasaki 250 Estrella. Way over the top, for sure, its latest incarnation goes as far as having drum brakes at both ends as well as amuch better looking dual seat. Unfortunately, its quest for retro authenticity goes as far as providing the engine with a minimal power output (right out of the sixties) compared to more high tech designs like the GB250. Throw in relatively high prices, to make it more of a miss than a hit unless town work's all that’s involved.

The inspiration for the Estrella’s engine might well have come from the old Z200/250 mill. The Z200 managed to blend similar minimal power with unusual frugality and the kind of doggedness that marked old terrors like the CD175. Chassis rot as much of a problem as engine demise on the high milers that are still rumbling along. The odd cheap thrill still makes the grade unlike the Z250 which managed a relatively rapid engine demise. A trick it shared with the KL250 trailster version. Lots of cheap, sub £500 dross around.

Kawasaki tried to get modern, at least in its engine, with the KLR250 trailster, but early examples of this water-cooled DOHC thumper are best avoided as they had piston problems. Later engines, say post 1990, were a deal tougher but the bike was still held back in the sales stakes by lacklustre styling and high new prices. Off-road abuse led to a rapidly ruined chassis, especially the bearings, but that’s OK as you can pick up a recent one for as little as £1500 which still has an engine in good shape.

Early KLR600’s similarly had troublesome engines but by the time the 650 version made it to these shores most of the problems were sorted. It's neither as long-legged nor as long-lived as the Honda NX650, though, so only worth buying one if cheerfully cheap. High milers have doubtful engines and rotted chassis; some dealers give them a cosmetic tarting up and try to charge silly money for something that will barely make it out of town.

Kawasaki only managed to excel themselves in the thumper game with the recent KLX650, a splendidly minimal effort that exulted in forty, torque filled, horses, in a mere 350Ib chassis. Alas, it was also heavy on fuel, at an astonishing 40mpg, no doubt down to the complexities of absorbing its vibration, which wasn’t even perfectly done as it could still thrum when pressed hard. The 650's a great fun machine, desperately in need of some road equipment, and available in very nice nick in the £2500 to £3000 price range.

Honda’s less complex - air rather than water cooled - NX650 also stands out as an interesting piece of thumper art. Both more powerful and frugal than the Kawasaki it doesn’t quite have the torque loaded feel of the newer bike, but at least Honda managed to develop the XBR500 inspired motor into one of the toughest thumpers in the business. Worthy of at least 40000 miles, sometimes more than 60000. Expect to pay around £2500 for a reasonable example; many with minor mods to wheels and mudguards that make them rather more suitable for road abuse.

The old XBR500 has done a virtual disappearing act off our roads, though grey import GB400/500’s offer a viable alternative for those stuck in the classic grove. At least the later efforts delayed the XBR’s valvegear demise for several more thousand miles! Built-in obsolescence will eventually catch up with all three variants so make sure you don't pay silly money for anything with more than 30000 miles on its clock. All are competent for sensible riding and just about up to staying with the flow on our mad motorways.

Rather harsher than these road variants, the old XL and XR 600s had a merry way all of their own but their general off-road usefulness meant that the vast majority were thrashed to an early if honourable death. The only ones left sport a mixture of mods, especially to the engine, that make them dubious buys even at under a grand. The old XL600 shared much of its engine technology and subsequent maladies with the infamous FT500, a bike which uniquely showed how not to design a big single - just about every element was ruined by ill-considered engineering.

However, the dodgy handling could be fixed with a suspension upgrade, the flat track styling still looks kind of cute and you eventually get used to the thumper vibes. There's little that can be done about the mediocre performance and laughable lack of longevity. Less than £500 will buy a runner but expect to pay up for a replacement engine (many different makes and models can be force-fitted). There was also a Japanese market FT400 which had similar performance, less vibration and a touch better longevity - well worn grey imports at around £750.

Such a poor design from Honda was all the stranger insofar as they started the four stroke single ball rolling with the old, almost indestructible, C50/90 step-thrus and kept many a learner amused in the sixties with the likes of their CB100/125/150 OHC singles. All raw reliable relics that still turn up in the odd pile of boxes or remarkably ragged state. That series ended up as the CB100N and the pushrod CG125, both of which were more sophisticated in their running and no less longer lasting. Loads of cheap stuff around if you can take the lack of performance and laughter of serious motorcyclists.

Suzuki tried to replicate this plain and simple engineering in their GS125 thumper, managed to merge most of the smaller Honda's virtues in a more attractive package, though, like the old CBs it wasn’t without the odd mechanical demise when run for high mileages on old oil - big-ends and cam lobes being most notable in their weakness under these circumstances. But anything that has low miles or been reasonably cared for (1000 mile oil changes at the very least) is a reasonable proposition - there are some rather old ones still in good nick for under 500 notes.

Suzuki tried the same trick with their larger single, the GN250 but missed out on balancing its virtues. Awful styling and indifferent chassis build quality, along with a mere 20 horses, were never going to set the market alight unless priced competitively. The GN ended up discounted to less than £2500 in the last year of its life, still not exactly bargain priced when compared with markets outside the UK but a relative snap in good old Blighty. Even very recent ones can be picked up for around £1500 and the older stuff can be had for £500. Watch out, though, as both chassis rot and engine maladies after 20000 miles can be quite harsh. There’s probably a good motorcycle in there somewhere but, in this case, the factory’s clueless about releasing it. You may well find a well modded example on the used market that’s worth buying.

As long ago as 1978 Suzuki showed marked competence in thumper technology, with the introduction of the SP370. Here, all the old virtues of British thumpers were blended with modern OHC engine technology. Although there was only 30 horses on hand, it was at least backed up with a modicum of torque and the relative lack of cubes meant engine balancers weren't needed.

The trailster stance had the virtue of keeping mass reasonable at a mere 300lbs, and not being so extreme that a smaller front wheel and proper mudguards couldn't cheaply and quickly convert the SP into a useful roadster. The SP370 also managed exceptional economy for a Japanese motorcycle, around the 80mpg mark. Both the kickstart gear and cam rockers could give trouble but they are fairly obvious on examination. Few nice ones left, but if you get lucky (find one that was converted for road use) a good buy at around £750.

The SP370 became the SP400, with an extreme trail version, the DR400. The frugality did a runner, though it was still good by Japanese standards at around 70mpg, the engine was toughened up in its weaker areas but still lacked an electric starter - true to thumper form, starting was an acquired art that soon sorted the men from the boys. Anything decent still left running is priced similarly to the 370.

The SP series evolved - if that’s the right word - into the GN400, a street version with a rather mild nature that only appealed to OAPs who were generally unable to come to terms with the effort needed to start it on the kickstart. Chassis wear, especially the bearings, is pretty harsh, few have survived into the nineties. Again £750 will buy one of few decent ones still on the road, but it’s important to do a compression check on the engine as they can run quite well with the rings near the end of their life.

Suzuki's modern incarnation of singular excellence lives on in their DR350, though its pricing, at a time when the Bandit 600’s going for little more than £4000 is very questionable. The trail stance’s rather extreme, with a seat height up in the clouds, and its general excellence off-road means most were thrashed close to death from new. Not surprisingly, then, there’s used stuff available for as little as a grand, although you'll have to pay twice that to find anything remotely decent. As expected of a modern motorcycle, the engine’s as tough as they come, only having to worry after 30000 miles when the top end can go down. With 30 horses and a mere 240lbs, the DR manages to escalate thumper kicks to a new level; a cheap and cheerful road bike trying to get out! Poor starting when hot its only real fault, the later electric start models the better buy.

Yamaha managed a similar trick with their TTR250, a lovely piece of DOHC thumper technology, again lost to the horrors of extreme trail bike styling. A touch heavier and harder charging than the DR, it’s only been available since 1994 in Japan but turns up somewhat expensively on the grey/shadow import market (over three grand). The Raid version's a better buy because it has a lower seat and better equipment for street riding but extremely rare in the UK. Another lost opportunity. Yamaha also churn out the 225 Serow, another DOHC single but a rather more modest one than the TTR. Light of mass, at 230Ibs, but its lack of power at 20 horses holds it back from achieving true excellence.

However, for fast town riding it’s ideal and much better than the hordes of trendy scooters that the glossies would like to inflict on us (loads of advertising revenue, see). The long travel suspension’s especially useful over London’s pitted and pot-holed road surfaces. One of the grey importers was selling new ones at £3000 and the older used stuff starts at under a grand - they are well worn out, though, despite the apparent paucity of miles. The best value’s found in the 1994/5 models with around five grand on the clock at £2000. Watch out, though, for ones that have had their frames straightened out after off-road damage.

Curiously, Yamaha’s old trail flame, the XT350 had a bit of a reputation for bending its frame out of line when the going got tough. It could also ruin its top end. These elements made for mind blowing depreciation, making the good ones - which really just take a bit of effort to suss out - bargain buys. If you're really lucky you'll find one of the 17hp examples that hasn't been derestricted (by cutting out a bit of rubber in the manifold) and has thus had a very easy life. When going well, XT350's offer adequate performance allied to light weight, a little bit ahead of those immensely popular 250’s in the seventies, which shared its 30 horses but had much more mass. It’s not impossible to find one in reasonable shape for under a grand; but you very definitely have to know what you've doing or you'll end up with a pile of expensive if useless bits.

Yamaha's history in big thumpers goes all the way back to the XT500 and SR500, both of which gained many adherents along the way. Plain and simple OHC engineering was only extreme in the amount of vibration that occurred at high revs and for the sometimes short-lived piston ring life - definitely worth doing a compression test. Having said that, the XT500, in particular, was popular with riders who wanted to cross Africa, and the like. Figure most used ones to be well modified and almost worn out, but still not a bad buy for as little as £500.

The SR500 is a weird piece of kit insofar as it, along with its better 400cc sibling, is still churned out in good old Japan and sold to those after a bit of classic engineering! Minor mods to the motor ensure that the engine life, starting and low speed running have improved over the old model, which was finicky when new and bloody minded after some wear and tear took its toll. Mediocre looks matched with mediocre performance meant they weren't popular in the UK but that hasn’t stopped it gaining status as a kind of ultimate rat bike. For whatever that’s worth. There’s the possibility of finding one with an upgraded chassis, including suspension and brakes off an old BSA or Triumph twin, and newish engine (as breakers are importing recent stuff from Japan to tear apart in the usual feeding frenzy), as well as recent grey’s at around £1500.

The XT500 turned into the more complex and better performing XT550 but it was a bike that never caught on in the UK. Unlike the final iteration, the XT600, which in XT600E and Tenere forms is well worth a look. Long established, with loads of cheap used parts available, it’s still a good idea to check the motor with a compression tester because they can keep running whilst in a dire state. A huge range of stuff available, from veterans that have gone around the world, to much abused DR hacks, to prime meat that has only ever been used as a pose mobile. Two grand should certainly buy an excellent example of the breed, perhaps graced with a smaller front wheel and road biased mudguarding.

Although the air-cooled XT600’s still going strong, Yamaha also tried, and mostly failed, to modernize the breed with the water-cooled XTZ660 thumper. Though more powerful, it never seemed to have the happy edge of the older bike, its five valve head, balancer system and water-cooling not working so well together as might be expected from a company so expert in four stroke engineering; perhaps just too much vibration to absorb without ruinously affecting the power and torque. Paris Dakar styling’s close to passing the sick bucket but there’s a good road bike trying to get out. £2000 up for the decent stuff.

Another less than successful bike, the SZR660, based on the XTZ’s engine, was held back by a combination of odd styling and silly list price; ended up heavily discounted. Not a bad bike but one, like the equally strange Suzuki 350 Goose, that in its high mass and low power doesn’t take advantage of the possibilities of the genre. You might find a decent SZR for as little as three grand, worth it if you want to spend some time developing the potential of the bike.

A lot of thumpers, like the SZR, unable to offer a compulsive combination of qualities. Ideally, a big single should be cheap (£3000 new), light in mass (250lbs), reasonable in power (40 horses) but excessive in torque, handle sublimely on the back of the ability to mount such a narrow engine low in the chassis and add that final element of good economy (100mpg). Sounds impossible? Well, the old Ducati singles of the early seventies actually came pretty close but were let down by idiotic electrics, poor quality control and spurious reliability - all factors that the Japanese have well under control (for the past 30 years if we want to be nasty about it - why not?).

If you want a stab at perfection, our best advice is to buy a low mileage DR350, open up the carburation and exhaust, knock a few inches off the suspension travel and fit a smaller front wheel (plus road tyres). Should end up with something light, reasonably fast and not too heavy on the fuel. You can do this to most of the Jap trailsters. If you just want to buy something straight out of the showroom go for a grey import GB250 or SRX250, both neat pieces of kit that will have you wondering why you ever bothered with the bigger stuff. If you want to get really weird and have money to burn, hit Japan and buy a 1964 Kawasaki 250 SGT - which looks like a cross between a RE Crusader, with its unit construction, 18hp OHV engine, and a mini Harley Sportster.

Dick Lewis

Kawasaki Z1000

The car came out of the side turning at about 50mph, planning to scream across the main road. I went for the front brake lever in total panic mode. The brake was old and a bit wimpy, the bike heavy; the resulting retardation insufficient. The front wheel went into the side of the car, which then, as it was still moving - seemed to be accelerating - flipped the whole caboodle sideways. There was enough noise to indicate World War 3 had broken out. Newport's citizens began to scream at the sight of rider and machine, on divergent destruction courses, grinding down the road and flying through the air.

Air brakes screeched. I looked up, after a spine breaking tarmac landing, to find my head positioned exactly under the front wheel of a bus! Without giving the peďs a chance to administer first aid, I leapt to my feet, wondering where the fuck the Kawasaki had got to! First things first. The poor old Z was hidden under the front wheels of a red Audi, whose driver staggered out and threw up. He was in tears, which was quite understandable as he'd damaged a valuable classic. The car that caused the accident had disappeared luckily, there were enough peďs who'd seen what had gone down for me to avoid taking the blame for damaging three cars!

I was told I'd flipped off, kangaroo-hopped over the bonnet of another car before doing a somersault that landed me on my back in front of the bus. I could've been killed several different ways! I somehow escaped without serious injury. When the car was lifted off the Z1000 it wasn't as bad as I feared. The front wheel was buckled slightly, lots of dents in the chassis but nothing bent out of line. I breathed a sigh of relief because I had a seized Z in the garage with all the cycle parts I'd need. One of the advantages of being a heavyweight is that it can take the odd tarmac bashing modern alloy framed bikes tend to be written off in the mildest of shunts - of course, their fearsome brakes and lack of weight means they can often avoid crashes that the Z just had to knock its way through!

That wasn't my first accident! On another occasion I went into a bend too fast, tried to heel the Z right off the edge of its tyres. Instead something dug into the tarmac, flipped us up and sent the bugger charging across the road, through a hedge into a field full of startled sheep. When the front wheel hit the mud, the bike dug in sharply, threw me over bars in such a way that my marital tackle was slashed by the handlebar end. I didn't notice the head to toe covering of mud until the pain diminished after about fifteen minutes! The Z had a similar soft landing, emerged covered in mud.

The reason I hadn't slammed the throttle shut was that it caused the swinging arm to wag about in its minimal mounts, which often translated into a lock to lock handlebar wobble. Not a good idea when you're leant over on the edge of the narrow tyres. Though the Z1000 inherited the Z1's reputation for wild handling, the strange thing was that if you just swung a leg over it for a quick trip around the block, the impression given would be of a solid old thing, nicely secure on the road. Must be all that mass!

The most frightening moment came at 130mph. A nice smooth and empty motorway, early on a summer morning, the motor screaming with the revs and thrumming away like a good 'un. The wind blast was doing my arms and neck in, about to back off a touch, the bastard turned the mild rear wheel weave into a massive speed wobble. The bike wobbled over two lanes of motorway for half a minute, poor old I thinking I was going to meet my maker. The chassis felt like it was made out of plastic and the motor was about to fall out of the frame. As suddenly as it came it went away again. After that, I didn't go over 80mph for a month.

Acceleration was still heady, the bike burning off the 600 replicas up to about 80mph, without too much effort on the throttle or gearbox. The latter had gone all loose and temperamental, with a lot sloshing from the short-lived rear chain (about 4000 miles!). The clutch was surprisingly heavy and a bit abrupt when the motor hadn't warmed up properly. The first engagement of the day required the front brake lever pulled right back to stop it stalling, due to clutch drag. Forget that, iť'd jump about a yard and then die a death!

Any hard use of the throttle resulted in a bit of a fight with the bars. On a good day it was just a matter of forcing them in the required direction, on a bad day they twitched and wobbled all over the shop above 80mph. There was never any need to check the tyres' tread, as soon as they came close to 2mm the handling went really dire, with lurid slides and wobbles even in the dry - don't even think about riding in the wet on worn out tyres.

Despite all this hassle it was a bike | enjoyed riding. Mad? Well, it was kind of fun not knowing exactly how it'd react to conditions and a test of nerve and courage forcing it to go where I wanted. My mates got their kicks trying to break through 150mph, which broke most of their licenses! Whereas I could burble along at much more moderate velocities having the time of my life fighting the Z into submission.

Neither was the motor ever boring. For sure, it was as tough as they came and didn't need much maintenance. But it had a distinct power band, an excess of low end torque and was always a little alive, vibrating and even thrumming away like it was a hard job to get the power out of the eight valve, DOHC, air-cooled mill. Sometimes, though, it seemed sublimely sweet, as if responding to my excessive love of the brute!

Running costs were a mixed bag. Fuel's good at over 50mpg - you cant really thrash them into the red all the time. Maintenance costs are negligible, just oil changes for the most part. Pads, tyres and drive chains are the major expense. Though the front disc works poorly it still cuts through the pads in less than 5000 miles. Just an inefficient piece of junk, but it works just as well in the wet and the calipers ignore winter salt. Go figure. Finish is better than most modern bikes, with only the expected and easily removed alloy rot.

Modern bikes are better in all kinds of ways but I paid £1200 for this one and £300 for the spare bike. Less than the depreciation in the first year of any reasonably sized new motorcycle. Also, the value's likely to increase as they become recognized as modern classics. Never boring, often fun and about the toughest engine in the business - what more could you want?
Handling, lightness... no, no, get real!

H.F.

Loose Lines [Issue 86, April/May 1998]

It's worth considering that the Japanese are as good businessmen as they are engineers. For a decade, or so, the UK - and a lot of Europe has been plundered by container loads of ill considered, overpriced Jap motorcycles. So heavy were the ticket prices, so greedy the proponents, that a whole sub-industry of grey and shadow importers grew on the back of the disparity of prices between the UK and America, Japan and parts of Europe. Though huge sales were lost by the UK importers, they tried to ignore the competition, came up with spurious ideas why the greys and shadows wouldn't work in the UK and finally offered zero finance deals to counter the much lower prices of the unofficial imports.

They were saved from complete obliteration by a suddenly booming market and many of their traders willing to do deals way under the absurd list prices. Part of their problem was that the bikes had evolved to such a state that they hardly needed any dealer servicing at all. New bikes were offered cheaper by the shadow importers than what official dealers were demanding for second hand examples of the same model. Even if the guarantee on the shadow was ignored - and there was often no real reason to do that - they were still a better bet than some used tackle that had maybe been run into the ground by its past owner(s).

I suspect it wasn't even the success of the shadow importers, nor even of the four grand (street price) 600 Bandit, that caused the Japanese to get their act together. Much more likely was the worrying avalanche of new companies getting in on the motorcycle manufacturing game. Everywhere you look some new company seems ready to launch their version of a modern motorcycle, usually V-twins or singles. Some of these companies, like Canadian jet-ski manufacturer Polaris, are extremely large, others like French Voxan are small, but the only reason they are able to launch their bikes in the market is because the Japanese are charging two to three times more than is really necessary for many of their new motorcycles. The economies of scale enjoyed by the Big Four but rarely passed on to the poor old consumer.

The actual retail cost of most motorcycles bears little relationship to the manufacturing cost. Along with technological advances that cut out a lot of the tiresome development work, the disparity between production and retail costs has made any number of new enterprises viable. OK, a few of them are vapourware, doing the old con on the money men to raise a pile of dosh and disappear into the ether to live happily ever after but the vast majority are the real thing. Not to ignore the fact that established European companies are reinventing themselves, new models from Laverda, Ducati, Aprilia, Cagiva and our own Triumph, amongst others, ready and willing to do battle.

Whilst it's unlikely that any company is going to come close to the sheer finesse of Japanese production engineering, clever and inspired design can give them an edge by removing the need, to a large degree, for such finesse. Just look at the lines and design of the Hunwick Hallan, an Oz V-twin of impressive styling and engineering to see what they are up against. Faced with such a possible onslaught, from new and established companies, it comes as no surprise that the Japanese are starting to go back to basics, with cheap yet sophisticated and powerful designs that no-one, anywhere, can compete with on price.

This is nothing new to anyone who has been watching the scene for a few decades. The British industry was eventually killed off because the Japanese combined much superior technology with reasonable prices. It's only because there has, until of late, been no effective competition in Europe that the Japanese have got away with charging such absurd prices for their wares and ignored the basic tenet of creative capitalism completely - that is, if you have a product that is a world beater you lower the price year after year, and not, as the Japs have consistently done, imposed stupid year on year increases.

The problem for the European companies is that having spent a decade making huge profits the cash rich Japanese factories can now afford to decimate the competition, which has based its profitability on the chimera of last year's prices (or even on the hope that the usual silly increases would prevail this year) and suddenly find themselves in a rather different marketplace, as predicted (sort of) a year or so ago by the UMG.

And the Japanese haven't even really got into their stride yet, still burdening their bikes with an excess of discs and carbs, expensive and short-lived tyres, frames that aren't really integrated with the engine. Styling, handling, performance and reliability are all well sussed, though. The 600 Bandit started the game, though overweight it was well developed from a decade old design and relatively cheap. The new 600 Hornet takes the CBR600 engine and bungs it into the Jap market 250 Hornet's chassis to produce a totally modern motorcycle, one that weighs a mere 380Ibs. Likely to be the best seller in '98 as long as the street price is nearer four grand than five. Yamaha's 600 Fazer's a development of their 400 model, using the 600 Thundercat motor but at 420Ibs is hopelessly overweight for a modern bike - they would have been much better off turning their 600 Divvie into a light, torque filled 900. Priced at nearly five grand it's unlikely to worry either Honda or Suzuki, but the discounters will have some fun with it.

The Japs aren't having it all their way. Ducati slashing some prices on their suddenly tired looking line up and other European companies sucking their fingers in horror at what's going down. It comes as absolutely no surprise that one of the few companies to survive the onslaught of cheap Japanese motorcycles in the past (admittedly with the temporary help of government tariffs) chose 1998 to introduce a cheap (as in five grand) Harley 883 to the UK market, though, again, why we've had to suffer a huge difference in prices between the UK and USA for three decades is hard to fathom. Though burdened with a hopelessly antique engine (mainly because that's what Yank customers demand) the Harley offers, much as a cheap Triumph triple would, a radically different riding experience to anything the Japs can summon - and given the madness of our police, hidden cameras and massive speeding fines - being limited to 80mph (effectively, by the vibes and handling) ain't perhaps as bad as it sounds.

Contrast that to Triumph who are still out to lunch with regards to the lower end of the market. The new Triumph Thunderbird Sport would've been ideal except that it's three grand over the odds, 100Ibs too heavy and burdened with the usual silly excess of discs and carbs. At the moment they ain't worried, with the success of the new T595 bringing in loads of dosh, but once the Japanese extend their new found philosophy of cheap yet sophisticated bikes to the upper end of the motorcycle market all kind of carnage may emerge. Having said that, Triumph, and possibly BMW, are the only European companies I can see surviving the coming onslaught.

For the next few years expect cheap new bikes without having to deal with unofficial importers. This will make used bikes even cheaper on the private market, and probably wreck large sections of the grey import game. Already, a number of dealers are grumbling about the cheapness of the new 600s, making their overpriced second hand stuff seem totally ridiculous but given the number of the new 600s they are likely to shift they will probably bear the loss and keep quiet. Dare the UMG suggest that it might not be a bad time to buy a new motorcycle?

Bill Fowler

Honda CB500/4

The fire bloomed under the seat as I was waltzing along at about 70mph. The first I knew of it was the engine cutting out, the breeze carrying the fumes out behind the bike. I'd begun to wonder about the flashing lights, frantic finger pointing and avalanche of horns. The hard shoulder beckoned. The twenty year old bike had basically been run into the ground over 67000 miles. Five owners, my own tenure lasting three weeks. It was a case of pass the rat and I was the unlucky idiot who'd been left with the mess. My foolishness didn't extend to ignoring AA membership.

The exact cause of the fire was difficult to determine. It could've been the split battery that might just be the original one. It could've been insulation turned hard and rotten. It could've been the rectifier exploding. All I knew was that the underside of the saddle was a mess. Worse still, the alternator turned out dead, a short circuit or age doing for it. A complete electrical rebuild followed.

Whilst I was at it, I did the valve clearances and points. The latter had blackened contacts and the former's rockers didn't look too healthy. But still the engine farted into life after a couple of kicks and settled down to a regular tickover. This despite the four carbs being so worn that I could never balance them they came in and out of balance to a rhythm all of their own, but the engine was so loose it didn't seem to make much difference!

Back on the road, the bike ran around town and did the odd outing without too many hassles. Clutch drag at traffic lights, occasional cutting out for no apparent reason and indicators that only worked when they were in the mood were minor irritants that were in line with the initial £200 cost of the old four.

Many middle-aged people came up to me, demanding to know why I'd let such a classic motorcycle degenerate like that; a lot of guys must've lusted after them in their youth and there seemed some potential in doing a minor restoration job. It was this, rather than any particular love for the CB which was, at best, mediocre in its performance, that made me do a quick strip down in the front room. For some reason, the neighbours had always been amused by the fact that | parked the bike in the passageway overnight.

A lot of the bike was held together by rust. Seat, guards, silencers and chainguard all fell apart when | wrenched out their reluctant retaining bolts. I suppose I should be thankful that they hadn't fallen off when | was riding along. All thoughts of keeping the bike original were abandoned. The breaker raided for replacements from more modern iron, which needed some cutting and hammering to make them fit. Amazingly, the original petrol tank still had its internal finish intact, just needed half a dozen dents filled and a quick paint job in black - I did the frame, panels and guards as well.

My attempt at removing the motor was quickly abandoned when one of engine bolts snapped rather than coming undone, they were all rusted firmly in. This was a trick the cunning Japanese had perfected - rather than leave a trail of bolts and bits like old British bikes did, all the screws simply corroded in their threads. Brilliant until you tried to remove them! As a sop to the engine's great age, I did pay £75 for a motor that had last been used on the race track, promised high-lift cams and heavy-duty pistons. It turned over still so must be OK. I never did get to fit it.

The alloy rot on the engine (couldn't remove it even with a wire-brush) and rust on the spokes spoilt the gleaming paint somewhat but it was way ahead of the old dog I'd been running around on beforehand. The first test of its redeemed nature was the MOT, which it flew through. This happy state lasted all of six days when the back wheel's bearings started knocking. Before the wheel went, the handling wasn't that bad as, unlike the 750 version, it only weighed a touch over 400lbs and had stable geometry. The suspension was marginal but it didn't seem to matter on a bike with an engine that felt close to exploding if I tried to do more than 90mph. In fact, it just didn't want to rev that high.

Back home, I took the rear wheel out. Emptied a carcinogenic amount of asbestos out of the rear drum and then had some fun knocking out the old bearings. One nearly broken finger later I had two old bearings and, erm, a cracked drum hub! This must be common because all the breakers I contacted found the request hilarious, told me not a chance. A bit of alloy welding filled in the hairline cracks and the new bearings went in without too much trauma. A couple of spokes looked a bit thin with the corrosion but what the hell, a little bit of danger does no one any harm, does it?

The feeling that the bike was gently corroding away beneath me was hard to ignore when two months later, with 71000 miles on the clock, the handling turned the CB into a three legged buffalo trying to walk on ice. Icy was how the blood in my veins went as I fought the bike through the curve, eyeing the stone wall with some fear. With a final twitch we came to a halt in the middle of the road. I was, again, thankful for the AA - one of the shocks' studs had sheared off, leaving the bike with a BMW-like mono-shock arrangement, save that the remaining shock had neither the damping nor springing to cope.

The whole rear subframe appeared to be rusting from the inside out - already, my new paint job was speckled with corrosion. Some artful welding with steel plate reinforced the back end, as well as adding a new stud for the shock. The old one was still intact despite bouncing up and down on its remaining stud. However, the forces involved had battered the swinging arm bearings into submission, leaving the handling as bad as it could get without actually throwing the rider off.

The spindle didn't want to come out - what a surprise. Penetrating oil was left to work overnight with little effect. A can of WD40 went west, still the damn thing didn't want to come free. A sledgehammer was borrowed and put into the hands of a friend who could pass as a Sumo wrestler. Half an hour later, the bent and battered spindle dropped out. My guess, it was put in bent to begin with! It took a week to track down a replacement - old Honda spares are getting rare on the ground.

Three months riding followed with just the odd oil change and tyre kicking session. Then the starting became difficult, meaning I had to take the carbs and filter apart. The latter was original, as far as I could tell, full of crud. As it looked difficult to put back on I dumped it, bound to match the straight-thru mega's I'd fitted. I fiddled around with the float heights, as per Haynes, and cleaned the airways out with an air-hose. Bunged it all back together, after an hour's hassle, and she fired up fine.

Two days later, the speedo drive broke and the front wheel's bearings started clacking. I decided that the Honda was just too old to keep bothering with. I fixed it up, sold it for £500 to some total enthusiast, despite the fact he was moaning about all the non-standard components. Beneath its shine it was basically still a rat bike! Most others are in the same state.

LR.

Tall Tales: Hondas C90, CB100, CD200, 250 Super Dream and CX500!

Being six foot three inches tall, I was looking for a machine that matched my build - tall and athletic. I was 17, and my provisional licence had just come through the post. My parents had already made it quite clear that I was not allowed a bike under any circumstances, so I was left to my own devices.

A weekend of odd jobs, window cleaning and flogging some of my worldly goods generated around £60 in cash, and I ventured a very cautious visit to the infamous local breaker's yard to search the rows of old dogs for something cheap and serviceable, and to see how much more I might need to save.

Providence, however, was on my side, for there in a dark corner stood an old Honda C90. It was tatty but running, and had a few months’ tax and test left. The man in greasy overalls, clutching his can of Special Brew, said I could have it for sixty notes.

My then girlfriend's mum was summoned, did the honours with her cheque book before taking me to a friendly insurance broker where a monthly payment scheme was duly signed and sealed. By the evening I'd been equipped with an old helmet, was on the road at last. The only problem I could see ahead was breaking the news to my parents!

The little Honda lived at my girlfriend's house for some time. It was cleaned, fixed and serviced under the benevolent eye of my girlfriend's dad, a member of the old school before the Japanese invasion, when (so | am told) motorcycling was considered more of a gentleman's pastime than a mindless performance competition. I appreciated his stories of great biking moments and was kind of inspired by his responsible and mellow concept of defensive riding.

The Crunchy was nearly as old as I was but despite its new and demanding lifestyle it never failed to start with a few kicks. It came complete with indicators that flashed once about every 30 seconds, dimming the headlamp, and had a little hook on the white leg-shields where grandpa could hang his shopping bag.

The vibration from the criminally overworked motor became quite painful after a distance. The handling and braking, needless to say, could be quite dangerous, especially in the wet - as I was soon to discover. My first accident came one drizzly morning on my way into college. Just near the busy entrance was a tight hairpin. As I approached the fiendish corner I noticed a fellow student sitting on the kerb with a shamed look on his face, his Lambretta lying nearby in the just crashed position. He was watching my approach so I decided to go for a spectacular high speed fly past, incorporating my almost perfected centrestand touchdown manoeuvre before pulling up in front of the impressed masses.

The next thing I knew I was lying in the gutter, my bike having bounced up on to the pavement and smashed into someone's fence. An old Norfolk boy was leaning on his gate. He said, ‘I've been watching them come off since breakfast. There's oil all over the road.’ Cheers, I thought. We could only watch the next victim's final moments. An innocent cyclist was soon picking himself up off the slippery tarmac.

The Crunchy survived, of course, but in my quest for a larger and more befitting machine it was eventually sold. A modest sum secured a reasonable Honda CB100 - a real man's bike, as my girlfriend's dad put it. I had entered a new league, and will never forget the first time I got a heart-warming nod from one of the big boys who must have seen the headlight and mistaken me for something much bigger.

The bike test, in those days, was simply a case of riding around the block and performing some patronisingly simple manoeuvres for an examiner who looked on from a distant pavement. No sooner had I passed than I waved goodbye to the humiliation of L-plates and my girlfriend became a permanent fixture on the pillion. I was a happy man.

I immediately moved up to a twin cylinder Honda CD200 Benly with a full fairing, a splendid bike which served me faithfully, despite being one of the unfortunate objects of my adolescent frustrations. Although thrashed to the humble limits of its soggy handling, the bike still returned over 80mpg, and, like my previous Hondas, was annoyingly reliable - leaving me no room for tales of dramatic breakdowns and roadside bodges, nor indeed of heroic and death-defying feats to exaggerate to my mates down at the pub. It started first time every time, sounded and performed like a big Honda 90, which I suppose it was in some ways.

My girlfriend's garage soon became a hideout for a mate's 250 Superdream as he hadn't yet found the courage to inform his deranged mother of his new purchase and had failed his test about two days before his licence ran out. The deal was that he could keep the Superdream there safely as long as I could keep it warm for him, which I did for several months. The large size of the beast meant it suited me quite well, though the six speed gearbox seemed a lot of unnecessary hard work.

One afternoon after college I was pulling up at some temporary lights when I noticed a rather attractive girl from my class looking at me - and smiling - from the back seat of the car in front. Casually, I slipped the bike into neutral and leant back, arms folded. Whether the footpeg was a little wet, or whether my left foot was shaking from the cold, I don't know, but it slipped forward on to the gear lever, crunching the box violently into first. My instinct was to grab for the clutch but the bike lurched forward, stalling inches from the bumper of the car just as the lights went green. Humiliation!

One of the little foibles of the Superdream was that the front disc wouldn't release properly, required a gentle kick in order to free the wheel again! This was presumably caused by a corroded piston and I had meant to strip the caliper down but hadn't got around to it, tried whenever possible to avoid using the front brake.

One afternoon I had just managed to ease past a steaming lorry who hadn't wanted to be overtaken, when I rounded a bend to find a line of stationary traffic. I stopped in time but my relief soon turned to panic when I remembered the lorry I had just overtaken. In my haste to do the decent thing and move a little further up the line of cars, I forgot I had squeezed hard on the front brake lever. It had locked, and the engine stalled. My heart nearly stopped as the lorry's wheels locked and it crossed on to the wide verge, ending up several cars in front of me on the grass. Someone was watching over me - for once!

The years passed until an unexpected sum of money allowed the purchase of a CX500. It was the first bike I really fitted, a true thoroughbred amongst motorcycles! I had mellowed, and despite the odd attempt to impress a pillion passenger with a 100mph dash along the dual carriageway, I was content to take the back roads and just listen to the sound of the lazy V-twin engine as I made my way between sunny Norfolk hedgerows. In the 1000s of miles I did it proved an extremely capable bike. Despite its high mileage and tattiness it was surprisingly solid and comfortable - I never became bored or considered buying anything bigger.

Late one night I was making my way home from a band rehearsal along twisty back roads when I noticed the lights of an approaching car. As I leant into a long left-hander I realised the careless cager was on my side of the road. Dazzled, with nowhere to go, I caught the verge and lost control of the bike. I rolled over the opposite verge and crashed through a hedge into a field whilst the CX continued up the road on its side. As I lay numb on the damp soil I could still hear the engine running and see the light pointing up at the night sky.

Shakily, I eventually managed to heave the bike back up on to its wheels and limp into the police station where I gave my sorry statement over a warm cup of tea. I was badly bruised but the CX was a real mess. I'd been going quite fast - the damage, added to the badly worn engine, meant the CX had to be scrapped. I was rather shaken by the experience and was back to using a car for some time.

A few years later I bought an immaculate, low mileage CX500. My fiancee had never been on a bike before, so first time out I planned to ride very carefully. Once up on to a dual carriageway we were overtaken by a couple on a BMW, who saluted as they breezed past. The next thing I knew I was roaring along behind them into Norwich, passing lines of cars at 85mph, when I suddenly remembered my passenger. I thought I had blown it as I gently eased off the throttle but as the wind noise died down I could hear her urging me to catch them! She was converted!

Many months of biking pleasure followed our wedding and countless mellow cruises on the CX. All was well until one night, in search of a pub down winding country roads, tiredness got the better of me and my concentration went. The next thing I knew the road ahead had turned into a large hedge. I braced myself, and just like a few years before, found myself tumbling over the grassy verge into another field; my new bride somewhere behind me. Fortunately, there wasn't any damage done and we were soon laughing about it.

The CX proved reliable with only minor problems. How sad I was when it was finally sold.

Matt Nash