I started off doing the London hustle on a venerable Honda C90 step-thru. As can be imagined, a laugh a minute. Cagers took the ancient hack as an open invitation to turn violent, little realising that despite my lack of cc's I was actually prone to the odd spot of retribution - Happy Henry a hero and inspiration. The police don't take too kindly-to youths carrying large batons or tyre-irons, so my form of attack was kicking the sides of cars with ex-army boot shod feet or slamming the Honda into offending vehicles.
A few seconds worth of violence could result in thousands of quids worth of damage. Don't get me wrong, I was quite happy to leave the cars well alone, just so long as they did the same for me. More often than not, though, viewing a wreck of a motorcycle charging through the traffic at 30-40mph was a cause for rage. Most of that down to the drivers sitting in hugely expensive coffins whilst I motored along on a hundred quid hack at ten times their velocity!
Almost understandable, but not when someone tries to ram you in the gutter or close the gap between cars. Just to confuse things, I had a set of air-horns off an artic that made cagers jump in their seats and peds drop a load. A favourite trick was to come up behind some city gent and let loose with the horn. Poor chap usually disintegrated before my eyes, expecting to be run over by some out of control lorry. Laugh? I almost fell off...
There's an art to falling off step-thru's. All protuberances to the rear have to be relocated out of harm's way, allowing the rider to step off the machine when the going gets dangerous! You wouldn't believe the damage and panic that a riderless Honda C90 can cause when careering through Central London traffic, Although the front suspension doesn't work in a manner recognizable to anyone used to proper motorcycles, it's actually quite a strong set-up that doesn't collapse the first time it hits a car! Even if it's knocked a bit out of line, doesn't make much difference to the appalling handling.
I ended up with a couple of the things plus an excess of spares. Cheap running costs, almost indestructible engine (change the oil every full moon!) and a narrowness that let it sneak through the most diabolical of traffic gaps. Ride one like you don't have a care in the world, the cagers will soon learn their lessons! I stuck with the C90's for just over a year until I'd had enough of the DR scene - at 19 it's not too amusing to have loads of hair falling out and a fit of the shakes like some ninety year old! Sold everything off to another wannabe DR, quite happy to have cleared 15000 quid in profit - work like a dog, take massive risks and know where you're going, anything's possible in London.
There's an art to falling off step-thru's. All protuberances to the rear have to be relocated out of harm's way, allowing the rider to step off the machine when the going gets dangerous! You wouldn't believe the damage and panic that a riderless Honda C90 can cause when careering through Central London traffic, Although the front suspension doesn't work in a manner recognizable to anyone used to proper motorcycles, it's actually quite a strong set-up that doesn't collapse the first time it hits a car! Even if it's knocked a bit out of line, doesn't make much difference to the appalling handling.
I ended up with a couple of the things plus an excess of spares. Cheap running costs, almost indestructible engine (change the oil every full moon!) and a narrowness that let it sneak through the most diabolical of traffic gaps. Ride one like you don't have a care in the world, the cagers will soon learn their lessons! I stuck with the C90's for just over a year until I'd had enough of the DR scene - at 19 it's not too amusing to have loads of hair falling out and a fit of the shakes like some ninety year old! Sold everything off to another wannabe DR, quite happy to have cleared 15000 quid in profit - work like a dog, take massive risks and know where you're going, anything's possible in London.Two years later most of the money had been blown on the lowlife on the Costa. Given the choice between selling time-shares down there or returning home to London despatching, didn't need much thought. I had enough money to buy an import CB1 and persuaded some friends that my dossing down on their sofa was a good idea - be out working or drinking most of the time, won't notice I'm there, mate. The Honda CB1's a neat, compact machine that handled beautifully, stopped smartly and accelerated rapidly enough to avoid most caged antics. The DR company I was working for had loads of long distance stuff, something like a C90 wouldn't make the grade.
In London, the Honda lacked a little bit of agility and I was sometimes caught in traffic when on the C90 I would've just breezed right through. My riding style was somewhat muted as the bike represented the total sum of my wealth! But for hustling to far flung corners of the country it was on the pace - the cops were kind enough to book me at 120mph on the M4 and were not amused when I didn't show up on their computer - fascist bastards. I told them an unlikely tale about being from New Zealand which almost got me off. Unfortunately, one of them had been there on holiday and gave me twenty questions which I failed dismally. The ticket never did catch up with me.
The CB1 came with 27000km on the clock and I doubled that before the motor started rattling away from the top end. Maintenance was the usual - change the oil when the gearchange went loose. Fresh oil helped the noise and the shop I bought it from didn't seem to notice the racket - or perhaps they were just happy to off-load the 400 Bandit that no-one else wanted to buy despite its low mileage and immaculate condition. As winter was on the way, it was soon covered in road grime - shite finish, the paint peeled off when I tried to clean the muck off! I changed DR companies, not fancying freezing my balls off doing long distance trips to godforsaken parts of the Kingdom (anywhere north of Stanmore, as far as I'm concerned).
The Bandit was a bit of a pain in Central London, mainly down to the carburation having a fit of the stutters anywhere below 7500rpm! I soon adapted my riding style to suit, screaming the motor to the limit the time, so pissed with the bike and the weather that I didn't give a damn if it all went west in a big way!
The cagers had all gone thoroughly mad! They just didn't want to give an inch and sometimes went out of their way to push me into the gutter or utter oblivion. True, the way the degutted exhaust snarled like an aeroplane aborting take-off might've had something to do with their angst. The Bandit responded reasonably to desperate muscular input and didn't even to mind my cursing fits - I'd spend half the day swearing my head off!
There was so much cut and thrust involved that took me less than 6000 miles to totally fry the front brake - as in seized calipers, pads down to the metal and warped discs! The fork seals were also shot and the steering head bearings so loose the thing would do a tank-slapper at the mildest provocation - but you could ride through it!
As that coincided with another shot front tyre, it was down to the breakers for something that would fit on and cost next to nothing... easier said that done as the vast majority of bikes are in breakers precisely because they have totalled their front ends. In the end, I rounded up the bits from three dead Suzukis, none of them 400 Bandits, but parts are often interchangeable amongst various models. I spent about eighty quid, not as bad as it sounds because it included a practically new tyre and brake pads.
As mentioned, the finish was pretty poor, with corrosion breaking out at the merest provocation. So bad that I gave up on the cleaning chores, deciding that the crud would provide a protective layer! Come March, the frame was practically down to the bare metal by the time I'd Gunked and wire-brushed the crud off! Alloy rot on the engine was on a par with what you'd expect from a sixties Jap and the wheels had lost half their paint. A rolling wreck that didn't really benefit from the lackadaisical application of Hammerite.
The carburation had deteriorated further, a reluctance to actually start, a tickover that varied from 1500 to 2500rpm and a black hole between 4500 and 7500 revs like some racetrack stroker. A cursory examination of the spark plugs revealed it was running too rich despite the almost straight through exhaust ‘system (stainless steel so it was immune to the rust). Decided that the air filter was the culprit, so tore that out and chucked it over the neighbour's back wall (surly sod, ranted and raved about being woken up by the Bandit's exhaust).
Brilliant! Or at least it ticked over at 1500 revs and put down a modicum of power below seven and a half grand. Unfortunately 10000rpm was met with a series of stutters rather than the usual power punch. Still, it was a much easier bike to pilot around the capital and fuel had improved from 40mpg to 55mpg; suggesting it was now running dangerously lean. Backed up by spark plugs that burnt out in less than 2000 miles! The first time it happened I went mad, kicked the stuffing out of the machine as I was in the middle of one of those infamous pick-up and drop runs, which stack up the real dosh.
After much muttering and mutual abuse I decided the Bandit had to go before it went bang in a big way - I'd done nearly 20000 miles by the time the summer came around again and it was beginning to make all sorts of funny noises! I'd definitely give one a proper test ride to suss if the carburation's any good - they were very variable, the later ones better than the early models. It went for a thousand notes privately, dealers had no interest, at least not when I wanted to part-ex it for something that cost less than 2000 notes.
The replacement? Yep, another mangey C90, but a one-owner from some old Joe-commuter who had done 40000 miles in five years and bought a new one. A hundred quid was all it cost, plus a new spark plug to get it running properly - I think the one I took out was original fare! 120mpg, 60mph and that wild freedom that comes from knowing it doesn't matter if the bike's written off! The cagers are out to get me again but they haven't got the reflexes for it. Sometimes the brave actually win! Sometimes!
The CB1 came with 27000km on the clock and I doubled that before the motor started rattling away from the top end. Maintenance was the usual - change the oil when the gearchange went loose. Fresh oil helped the noise and the shop I bought it from didn't seem to notice the racket - or perhaps they were just happy to off-load the 400 Bandit that no-one else wanted to buy despite its low mileage and immaculate condition. As winter was on the way, it was soon covered in road grime - shite finish, the paint peeled off when I tried to clean the muck off! I changed DR companies, not fancying freezing my balls off doing long distance trips to godforsaken parts of the Kingdom (anywhere north of Stanmore, as far as I'm concerned).
The Bandit was a bit of a pain in Central London, mainly down to the carburation having a fit of the stutters anywhere below 7500rpm! I soon adapted my riding style to suit, screaming the motor to the limit the time, so pissed with the bike and the weather that I didn't give a damn if it all went west in a big way!
The cagers had all gone thoroughly mad! They just didn't want to give an inch and sometimes went out of their way to push me into the gutter or utter oblivion. True, the way the degutted exhaust snarled like an aeroplane aborting take-off might've had something to do with their angst. The Bandit responded reasonably to desperate muscular input and didn't even to mind my cursing fits - I'd spend half the day swearing my head off!
There was so much cut and thrust involved that took me less than 6000 miles to totally fry the front brake - as in seized calipers, pads down to the metal and warped discs! The fork seals were also shot and the steering head bearings so loose the thing would do a tank-slapper at the mildest provocation - but you could ride through it!
As that coincided with another shot front tyre, it was down to the breakers for something that would fit on and cost next to nothing... easier said that done as the vast majority of bikes are in breakers precisely because they have totalled their front ends. In the end, I rounded up the bits from three dead Suzukis, none of them 400 Bandits, but parts are often interchangeable amongst various models. I spent about eighty quid, not as bad as it sounds because it included a practically new tyre and brake pads.
As mentioned, the finish was pretty poor, with corrosion breaking out at the merest provocation. So bad that I gave up on the cleaning chores, deciding that the crud would provide a protective layer! Come March, the frame was practically down to the bare metal by the time I'd Gunked and wire-brushed the crud off! Alloy rot on the engine was on a par with what you'd expect from a sixties Jap and the wheels had lost half their paint. A rolling wreck that didn't really benefit from the lackadaisical application of Hammerite.
The carburation had deteriorated further, a reluctance to actually start, a tickover that varied from 1500 to 2500rpm and a black hole between 4500 and 7500 revs like some racetrack stroker. A cursory examination of the spark plugs revealed it was running too rich despite the almost straight through exhaust ‘system (stainless steel so it was immune to the rust). Decided that the air filter was the culprit, so tore that out and chucked it over the neighbour's back wall (surly sod, ranted and raved about being woken up by the Bandit's exhaust).
Brilliant! Or at least it ticked over at 1500 revs and put down a modicum of power below seven and a half grand. Unfortunately 10000rpm was met with a series of stutters rather than the usual power punch. Still, it was a much easier bike to pilot around the capital and fuel had improved from 40mpg to 55mpg; suggesting it was now running dangerously lean. Backed up by spark plugs that burnt out in less than 2000 miles! The first time it happened I went mad, kicked the stuffing out of the machine as I was in the middle of one of those infamous pick-up and drop runs, which stack up the real dosh.
After much muttering and mutual abuse I decided the Bandit had to go before it went bang in a big way - I'd done nearly 20000 miles by the time the summer came around again and it was beginning to make all sorts of funny noises! I'd definitely give one a proper test ride to suss if the carburation's any good - they were very variable, the later ones better than the early models. It went for a thousand notes privately, dealers had no interest, at least not when I wanted to part-ex it for something that cost less than 2000 notes.
The replacement? Yep, another mangey C90, but a one-owner from some old Joe-commuter who had done 40000 miles in five years and bought a new one. A hundred quid was all it cost, plus a new spark plug to get it running properly - I think the one I took out was original fare! 120mpg, 60mph and that wild freedom that comes from knowing it doesn't matter if the bike's written off! The cagers are out to get me again but they haven't got the reflexes for it. Sometimes the brave actually win! Sometimes!
Scott Brown