Honda CB750

Forget all you’ve ever heard about how fast and wonderful the early Honda CB750 four was. Some people bought them and discovered how bad they were. I know - I was one of them.

I had previously owned a Honda CD175, a CB450 Black Bomber (the first, fast four speed model) and a CB500 four. So you can see that I was a Honda fan, well prepared to enjoy owning a CB750. I hated it. But it had its good points too; they were just sometimes hard to remember.

When I went to buy the bike I was told it was a K1 model but after I sold it I discovered it was, in fact, the much rarer K0 model. My first surprise on sitting on the bike was that someone appeared to have stolen the ground. The seat was so high and wide that there was no way that I could touch the ground on both sides and even by putting only one foot down and leaning the bike over, I could get no more than my toes on the deck. The guy selling the bike told me he had the same trouble, so he gave me a lower seat made by Two Four accessories which made the height almost bearable. The original seat I gave away - an original K0 seat alone is now worth a tidy sum of money - and I gave one away.

The next surprise was that the starter motor worked. I have now owned a great many bikes and very few of them have had starter motors that have been even vaguely reliable. True to form, the 750/4 starter motor soon gave up the ghost, but at least it was working for a few weeks.

Now to ride the thing. The controls were well laid out and easy to use. The clocks were big and clear. The clutch was light enough to be not tiring but stiff enough to have a good feel. So snick the gearbox into first and... nothing. Kick the gearbox into first and... nothing. Belt the gear lever as hard as possible into first and after that the gear selection went OK.

You could never get away with being firm with the lever, you needed to smack it into place with gusto. But, having said that, the gearbox was positive in action and never slipped out of gear once engaged. Nor were there false neutrals anywhere in the box. Even to the extent that locating the real neutral required a reasonable amount of skill but, once mastered, was usually possible.

First gear is much too low and the bike pulled away just as well in second. Indeed, one up, the bike would pull away in third. Actually, first gear is always too low on Japanese machines so I was well used to this design quirk. The engine is the real masterpiece of the 750 with massive reserves of torque throughout the rev range. It is so good that there is no power band at all. Just power all the way from 1000 to 8000rpm with no trace of a flat spot or being cammy at all.

The 500/4 had a rather annoying power step that entails changing down a gear for overtaking - my friend’s 400/4 was even worse, the power band on that was so narrow that dropping two gears was necessary. Of course, you never know how awkward a narrow power band is until you’ve ridden a machine with a wide spread of power. If you have never sampled a Norton, Triumph, XS650, SR500 or CB450, you won't really understand the problem or the solution.

Once on the open road, give the 750/4 some throttle and acceleration is good, very good. Lovely and responsive for a four as well. Not as responsive as a good twin, of course, but capable of supplying a satisfying forward urge. What'll it do, mister? Well, the top speed seems to be between 115 and 120 by the very accurate speedo, so at least a genuine 115mph. A whisker faster than the 450 or the 500, so I’m happy enough with that.

What I’m not at all happy with is the seating position. The foot-pegs are a few inches too far forward and as for the handlebars - someone at Honda ought to be shot for those monstrosities attached to the top of the forks. I’ve been told that they are meant to be handlebars but I reckon they must have been joking.

The early models came standard with very silly ape-hanger type bars that made cruising at anything over 70mph a real pain. In fact, it was about this time that I started getting bad back pains. So much so that I thought that I was getting too old and maybe I should give up the whole idea of motorcycle riding.

It was only in a final desperate move that I threw the high bars away and fitted a straight set patterned on the Norton Dominator or Vincent shape. The effect was amazing, a definite improvement in handling, top speed and fuel economy, even if these improvements were somewhat small, but the best thing was that my bad back cured itself immediately. I strongly recommend fitting flat bars, they do make a useful difference to all types of riding.

The front brake is really pretty good in the dry and isn’t far from being adequate in the rain. The now well known wet disc lag effect does occur on the 750, but for some reason it is much worse on the smaller Hondas than on the big ones. In the dry, the braking is almost right and whilst a little more retardation would be desirable, there is never any great need for a second disc. The engine braking is good for a four (but poor compared with a twin) and the rear drum is rather excellent, especially in the wet.

Apart from the handlebars, the main drawback to using the bike as a touring tool is the vibration. Yes, that’s right, vibration. Not the low down chunks of shaking that you get from a parallel twin or big single, but a nasty high frequency tingle through the bars that produce white fingers after only 100 miles. I found this much more annoying than low frequency vibes and perhaps shows why Honda soon introduced the Gold Wing for serious touring.

If the vibration makes it sound rather British, then the next bit will confirm the impression. Oil leaks. Oh yes, the Big H was a distinct gusher in the vicinity of the oil tank. I never traced the problem, I just mopped up the spillage from time to time. Interestingly, the oil leak only started after the engine seized. The other way round would make more sense. But no, the motor was running perfectly right up until when the main bearings failed - right in some remote part of Cornwall.

Could I get the bike mended down there? Could I hell. The local garage had never even seen a Honda before, let alone knew how to mend one. I had to hire a van to get the beast home where I fitted a complete new engine into it. Despite the oil tank not being touched it started to pour out oil. I never could understand why on earth they didn’t give the engine a wet sump, it would have been so much easier for everyone concerned.

Back to a happier subject. The spread of torque was such that the bike only needed three gears, four gears was a luxury, but five was just plain silly. Once, in Gloucestershire, the bike suffered a gearbox problem, which was minor and could have been fixed in a few minutes if I’d realised. But, as the bike was running, I decided to leave well alone until I could get hold of a decent toolbox. That toolbox was over a hundred miles away. The problem was that once on the move I could not change gear. I selected third for the journey home. The bike would pull away from rest, even uphill, and also manage 70mph easily enough - all of the while loaded with camping gear. The engine never missed a beat. Shows just how unnecessary are a multiplicity of gears.

For the nitty gritty freaks, I’m afraid I can’t tell you tyre mileages as they were sufficiently long for me not to bother worrying over them. The bike averaged 55mpg on two star and until the oil leak started consumed no oil between changes. The camchain tensioner is not automatic and, like most manually adjusted tensioners, is totally reliable. Honda only got into camchain problems when they insisted on trying to make things automatic.

The primary chain made lots of loud rattling noises but this is apparently quite normal for a 750/4 so don’t let it worry you - something else in the engine/ gearbox goes long before the primary chain. The brake pads and shoes never seem to wear out, although I do tend to use engine braking to slow down, which might explain this. The quality of paint and chrome was really very good except for the exhaust system which was replaced with a British made four into two of equally poor quality but far cheaper price. Honda genuine spares are so over-priced that it ceases to be at all funny.

You will have noticed that, so far, this report has been less vitriolic than my introduction intimated. That’s because I’ve yet to mention the handling. It didn’t. Handle, that is. Not at all. No, that’s a little unfair. Let’s examine the good points. The frame and swinging arm are very strong and nicely rigid. The forks are really perfectly adequate for the job. My tyres were Avon Roadrunners which are among the best tyres ever made, in my opinion. The rear shocks were Girling oil shock replacements, so no problem there. A good ride, a bit firm by modern Jap standards, but I prefer it that way. The forks were stiffened by using thicker fork oil.

All of this gives a lovely touring set-up, the big 19" wheel makes the bike wonderfully stable and keeps it nicely controllable in the more gentle corners. Lovely slow steering, not anything like these horrible modern 16" wheels that tuck in so much on bends that it’s so easy to e out of control.

So what’s the trouble with the Honda? Well, huge amounts of weight mounted too high in the frame make the beast totally uncontrollable at low speed, such as in town. The low bars gave a slight improvement by bringing the rider’s mass nearer to the ground. That said, for most of the time, the thing is stable enough to be flung into bends and not go off course if you simply make allowance for the huge mass you're trying to hurl around. But, for christ’s sake don’t actually try it or you will be reading the next copy of the UMG in hospital.

The secret phase here is ground clearance. Honda never gave any to the 750. There was loads of clearance on the early 450 twin and the later 400 four, it’s just the 750 that tries to kill the rider. A very strange quirk that I did not find at all funny. The angle of lean on the right hand side was almost good enough for the most craven of slow riders, but for any serious riding it was low enough to be dangerous. On the other side there was no ground clearance at all. None. The thing would not lean over to the left more than a few degrees.

So how do you get around left hand corners? There are two possibilities - either remove centrestand and side stand and accept the fact of the peg folding up, or get off the bike and push it around. By the way, the centrestand was impossible to use unless you were a weight lifter high on drugs.

So why do I hate the Honda? Because that lack of left hand ground clearance damn near killed me one evening. And also the fact that the earlier 450 was simply a better bike. The 750 was the start of Honda’s slide when the marketing men became more important than the bikers who rode them or the engineers who designed the older bikes up to a quality, not down to a price.

All in all, a big blocker with fairly good reliability, but no truly endearing points. The later Kawasaki Z650 handled better and was little slower and equally reliable, the Tiger, Bonneville and Commando 850 were all more practical (sure, sure - Ed) and the Trident or Z1 were a lot faster, even if the T150 was as fragile as glass inside its engine and the Z1 was grossly overweight and just as bad a handler as the CB750.

Postscript: The later models from K1 to K7 were very similar but the engine and gearbox became a bit nicer to use, whilst top speed and acceleration was milder. The F1 model featured the same engine in a more sporting set of clothes, the improved suspension helping the handling. A new exhaust system and removal of the centrestand converts the F1 into a very nice piece of road kit, and is perhaps the best buy of all the SOHC fours. The F2 had more power and an unreliable engine and lost the torquey motor of the earlier machines and was for people who like power bands. All in all, the F2 was OK but it was an attempt to turn a staid tourer into a race replica. There was also a F3 model that was never imported into this country, thus the 750 SOHC model ended not with a bang but with a whimper.

Elvis Evans

 

Triumph T140 Tiger

I had a Yamaha XS400 at the time. A pleasant little bike. I quite liked it, really. But in no way was it a fit machine for travelling distances. At about 65mpg, the fuel tank capacity of just over two gallons gave a range of under 150 miles. Not enough to reach Liverpool from High Wycombe. And I had decided that I was going to the IOM that year. It was to be my first trip there and helped form the specification of my next bike. It had to be good on fuel, with a range of at least 200 miles. It had to cruise at 70mph on A roads and have a low seat height. And I like a torquey engine with plenty of grunt. For once I had enough money to buy either new or low mileage second hand. I had a choice of Yam XS650, Morini, Guzzi V50 or Triumph 650 Thunderbird. I went to Motorcycle City with my list and was told what I really needed was a Honda CB650 four. When I refused this he said he'd arrange for a test ride on a V50 - I’m still waiting for it.

Next stop was Anglo Bike for a Thunderbird test, and also because they said they had a low mileage XS650. When I arrived there I found they only had a low mileage Tiger 750, which I was convinced wouldn’t handle after trying other, Jap, 750s. I tried the Yam - it was really rather lovely. A great engine but poor frame, excellent controls but uncomfortable riding position, lovely transmission but only adequate braking in the wet - in all it seemed a nearly bike. So I tried out the Tiger. And fell in love. The affair continues to this day - how can an industry go down the drain when they make something quite so lovable?

This was my Isle of Man bike: great gobs of torque, stable on the straights, light enough to flick through bends, a big fuel tank of three and a half gallons and the most comfortable riding position I've ever found for touring, with the slightly raised bars and mildly rearset pegs (not stock).

The 750 Tiger is a long stroke pushrod parallel twin with a claimed 44hp at 6000rpm. Weighing 400lbs, this is sufficient for a top of speed of around 110mph. Fuel consumption is a worst of 65mpg and best of 85mpg, helped by the use of a single SU carb of immense size robbed from a car. Oil is held in the frame tubes, which is a good idea if you have to suffer the indignity of a dry sump engine, whilst ninety weight oil stops the gearbox seizing up (usually). And why on earth is the engine fitted with five gears?

There was no annoying vibration! None of the high frequency stuff that numbs fingers on bad Japanese bikes, just low frequency vibes that blurs the mirrors but did little damage save for the occasional fractured exhaust pipe (on the way to the BMF on a Sunday when the sun actually came out - something had to go wrong, didn’t it).

The bad news. The finish is horrible. The powder coating on the frame cracks, allows water in and then rusts underneath and peels off in long strips. The chrome is very nearly as grotty. It pits and rusts far too easily but at least it doesn’t peel off. I’ve seen chrome on older Jap bikes that is in much better shape. The silencers rotted in only three years, but they're a lot cheaper than Jap stuff.

The rectifier burnt out - it became so hot that it melted a steel mudguard, but its replacement has given no problem. The alternator is not really powerful enough, in traffic with the lights on and the stop lamp in use, there’s not enough power left for the ignition.

The Tiger also eats its drive chain, they last only 5000 miles and need plenty of adjustment. Roadrunners last for 10000 miles rear and 15000 front. I’ve found the combination of a ribbed F2 front and new AM21 rear suit the Triumph’s frame perfectly. The original Girlings were only average, the Marzocchis a little worse and the Konis fitted now much, much better. The seat is deeply padded and comfortable, the gear change is rather heavy and stiff (as is the clutch).

The primary chain tensioner is horrible - a bad piece of design that breaks far too frequently. It is also hard to adjust. If I go on a long run I always take a spare. It always needs four star petrol to stop the engine and sometimes even that quantity of lead is insufficient when the engine is very hot. The big tank is very nice on a long run and is more useful for carrying a tank bag than the US job, which, I feel, oaks a little out of place on a Tiger. Reserve is worth 20 miles.

It drinks oil in vast quantities. I don’t know where it goes to, it doesn’t leak much so I suppose it must burn it off although it doesn’t show in the exhaust. I’ve had to replace the base gasket twice in four years, and the pushrod O-rings have gone three times, which is beyond a joke. The gearbox and crankcases are oil tight and there’s a slight mist from the cylinder head, but never any of the huge gushing leaks that used to be found under all British iron.

The good news. The Tiger is immense fun to ride. It’ll take you where you want to go and let you enjoy the going. It prefers touring but is good enough for commuting in town or for scratching in country lanes. It hates motorways, which is good because so do I. There is no electric start which is a blessing - electric starters on bikes are forever going wrong. The throttle response is good and there’s bags of torque. There’s also plenty of engine braking, so disc pads last for ages.

The footrests are solidly mounted, which prevented damage to the engine cases in a crash - the handling is pretty good and it has to go over a long way before the pegs touch down. There is a rather a lot of wandering and twitching from the frame and forks - it shimmies, weaves, bounces, but after all the frightening moments are over you realise you've just taken the bend at a speed that would leave most Jap four owners thankful that the NHS is still free.

Sedate riding produces none of these frightening antics and is soon adopted by all except the committed head-bangers. The chassis is very stable in a straight line for which the combination of long wheelbase and modest power can probably be thanked (not to mention the 19" front wheel). The ability to go around corners has been exploited by me on a few occasions when a slight madness overtakes me.

My first Mad Sunday was a rather sedate affair as I permitted absolutely everyone to overtake me, the second year was a little more hectic as I was in the company of a friend on a BSA A10 who became fed up with the slowness of the powerful superbikes - so if that was you on the Moto Martin passed by a bike that’s a cross between a road drill and a dinosaur, that was my mate's idea of a gentle cruising speed.

A British parallel twin is an ideal tool for the kind of roads found on the Island. Similarly, it proved suitable for a touring holiday in Ireland the only catch being a lack of bike dealers. I broke a throttle cable in Ulster and was told the nearest Triumph dealer was in Liverpool, and no they wouldn’t let me make one up. By the way, when in Ireland, do tour the Dingle Peninsula, narrower roads that the Ring of Kerry, so more fun for bike riders.

Now, to smaller details. The centre stand is brilliant, stable, strong and easy to use - the Tiger is light enough to encourage use of the centre stand for most of the time. The machine is so well balanced that removal of either wheel allows. the bike to rest on the other wheel without any props. The side stand allows the bike to lean too far over.

The indicators break with great ease. The rear brake pedal pivot seizes. The seat is low enough for short people to touch the ground and the pillion isn’t stuck out in the airstream. A smaller rear sprocket is recommended (mine is 10% smaller and could go even smaller to make the engine feel less revvy).

The Tiger makes a jolly good rally bike. It’s exciting enough to ride on the roads and light enough to manoeuvre in the fields. The slim profile makes it easy to filter through both campsites and London traffic jams - the Tiger really is good in traffic for a 750.

All in all, the Tiger is a good size and weight, it’s comfortable, quicker than it feels, economical, spares are cheap and readily available. Happy on minor roads but not motorways. Amazingly poor quality finish. But above all, it’s very lovable nice one Meriden.

R Evans

 

Triumph 5TA and T110

I started off with a 1959 Triumph Tiger Cub. It looked spot on, all silver with the half type rear wheel enclosure and 10000 miles on the clock. A little later I fluffed the gear change and jammed the selectors - I pushed it the 16 miles home. At 6’1" I was a little tall for the bike, had to sit on the back of the seat, making the front end go light; at 70mph there was an amusing weave.

I soon began to thrash the balls off the Cub but didn’t realise in those days that it couldn’t take it. She seized up once and on a run the needle broke off in the dinky Zenith carb and went straight through the engine but did no damage. Used sensibly around town she did 120mpg and on one 40mph tour returned 143mpg! But everyone overtook me and it seemed to take forever to reach my destination. After a year I decided it had to go.

Next came a 1960 Speed Twin 5TA, all maroon with excellent paint, a nice unit, soft motor and full bath tubs. It churned out 27hp - who could ask for more? She would cruise two-up at 70mph all day and didn’t leak any oil. 85 -90mph was top whack, but 70mpg was quite normal. I soon became used to the extra 17hp and felt I could do with a bit more. A mate with a 1958 T100 stopped laughing when in a straight drag my 5TA left his sports model gasping.

The 5TA did everything quite well, but was not outstanding in any one area. The rear end was the first to protest if pushed hard, with a slight wallow resulting but nothing too dangerous or frightening. For a change I decided to Tiger 100-ise her. So I removed the bath tubs and fitted pukka T100 guards, etc. I also painted the bottom of the petrol tank cream to break up the maroon which was beginning to get on my wick. I then added a full Avonaire fairing and had just finished off the customising work when a drunken A35 driver knocked me off.

A year later and out of hospital, the bike nicely rebuilt was in better nick than I was. She had been rebuilt to virtually as new and I should have kept her. I realise that now, but the search for cubes was on and I decided to trade her in. My next bike was a 650cc T110 of '59 vintage, then four years old and with 12000 miles on the clock. The richer members of the Triumph Owners Club were wheeling out their new duplex frame, blue and silver, T120s, but at £285 they were too expensive for me. Still, I rode back to Huddersfield well pleased with my new steed and slightly respectful of its extra 13hp.

7340UA was the last of the 50's style Trumpets - nacelle headlamp, pre-unit engine, single monobloc carb, separate dynamo and mag (with manual advance and retard) and slick shift gearbox. For a year she ran well with little in the way of maintenance save for polishing the paintwork. Then, following a run down to Mallory Park, the gremlins struck, she started to run on one pot then back onto two then back to one, and so on. A 325cc single’s a bit flat on acceleration but it makes life interesting when suddenly you find yourself back on two. Still, only 120 miles to go. I’d been so busy keeping the bike going that I forgot to fill up with gas - pulled up next to a Goldie suffering from a dropped valve. The one good thing about Goldies is their QD tank, I was able to buy a gallon of petrol.

The Triumph refused to start until I was forced to bump her. Three miles from home there was an almighty bang and the bike stops dead. I had to push the beast home with it stuck in gear and the clutch pulled in - I was still young and silly and had muscles in those days. The following day the whole engine was on the lounge carpet - one holed piston, one bent exhaust valve, one eight stud cylinder head with every spigot cracked as only Triumphs can, and one bent pushrod.

A trip to Mecca (Alan Jeffreys at Shipley) and about six weeks wages changed hands for a T120 twin carb head (£20 instead of £12 for the T110 version), 9:1 pistons, E3134 cams plus twin carbs. The paint was changed to red and black, ace bars and a DMD full dustbin fairing rounded off the transformation. It was as quick as anything bar a Vincent and stayed reliable over the next couple of years. A mate fixed the front brake by manufacturing a TLS conversion, long before Triumph got around to it - which made the brake rather lethal in the wet with its excess stopping ability.

I must confess that I rather liked the slick shift gearbox. I had a heel/toe lever fitted and I normally noted no difference in operation of the gearbox. But it was very handy if the clutch lever broke. With my weight I never had any trouble kicking the Triumph over, but leave the mag setting on advance and it’d kick you over the handlebars. The battery could be abused and neglected because the magneto generated its own power and would start the bike with a dead battery.

I’d been brought up by my father on his Tiger 100s and Thunderbirds, and Triumphs were supposed to be smoother than others, and I believed all that stuff - god, we must have known no better in those days. 7340UA would give you a good massage on a long run at speeds above 70mph, but nothing ever broke or dropped off (they knew how to make proper mudguards and stays in those days). I could get 110mph on the clock and over 60mpg with ease.

Still, the writing was on the wall when returning from Cadwell Park up the Doncaster bypass a couple of lads on some newfangled Yam 250s were still with me at 90mph (C15s, Arrows, etc knew their proper place) - but we thought we’d be safe as the Japs. only made tiddlers, didn't they... 1966 saw the bike traded for a sensible family car and ten years were to pass before I was to feel the thrill of a soggy glove or a wet crotch.

P Toybe

 

Triumph 3TA

I don’t really know what made me want a 350 Triumph, maybe some screws in my brain had vibrated loose whilst riding BSAs, or I was fed up replacing big-ends in the B40 I had just conned my brother into buying from me. Anyway it was mine for £150, after a test thrash for which the girlfriend was left as surety (the more attractive, then the more expensive the bike you can usually try out).

What a load of geriatric rubbish a standard T21/3TA is. The first thing to junk is the silly bathtub rear enclosure for which strange eyed classic enthusiasts pay large sums of money. Other useful mods include bigger diameter wheels, Bonnie 12V alternator and associated electrics, battery and headlamp, 2 into 1 exhaust. Mine has trial tyres to cope with Devonshire roads and for trail riding. Fortunately, most of the spares are pretty cheap and can be found at auto-jumbles, anything difficult to find or too expensive can usually be bodged out of something else common or cheap.
After an initial engine rebuild, the 3TA was run in for a few hundred miles then used in some long distance trails where it proved amazingly reliable. Six months riding to work was followed by a trip to the IOM with some equally daft friends, at least a 600 mile round trip. I regretted every minute of the trip, small bikes are so boring and I had a Trident sitting in the garage.

Out of sheer frustration, the little twin was really thrashed to hell, didn’t like it and seized up solid, much to the amusement of a hotel full of BMW leather jock strapped, Heineken swilling Krauts. It underwent a total engine strip down on the pavement using two spanners and a pair of old Mole grips (simple, these Triumph things). The timing side piston had partially disintegrated and I could not find a new one, so with true British grit it went home on one cylinder with the other piston and con-rod removed and a jubilee clip around the vacant big-end.

After its second rebuild, undaunted by failure, the 3TA went to the ISDE for the week in Wales. If it had played up I would have drowned it in a Welsh bog, but unfortunately it didn’t miss a beat. It was ridden to work every day for a couple of years after that, including weekend green-laning and trials. The next rebuild was necessitated by seizing big-ends after it found its own way home after the regular Friday night thrash to a pub session. I think a decent oil filter would be a good mod for longer engine life.

Every six months the head gasket pisses out oil, piston ring wear was a problem until I fitted a K&N air filter (covered by a Fairy Liquid bottle), the primary chain has no tensioner and slaps around but the noise it makes is concealed by the loud exhaust.

The drum front brake is a joke, as is the instant lock rear - a good bodge for the MOT when the local plod sees the tax disc has fallen off (again) is to wrap a piece of metal around the cam profile to push the shoes out - fools them every time. The frame is really pathetic by Triumph standards and the swinging arm bearings must have inspired the Japs; there’s no way to lubricate them and once worn makes for interesting weaves. on bumpy bends. The chain lasts well because there’s a constant supply of oil pouring out of the gearbox and the impressive 18hp does little damage to the chain. The forks are commendable only because they are unbendable - I don't know if the seals leak because the gaiters have yet to perish.

For some reason, despite all the problems, it is really good fun with hardly any of the vibes that bigger Triumphs suffer. It will cruise at 60mph all day using about 500mpp. The acceleration is just less than a 350LC and fuel varies from extremely frugal to 50mpg depending on if you're pushing it or thrashing it. The Triumph must be quite desirable because I had to abandon it once after it ran out of petrol and some, er, people nicked it. Unfortunately, the plod found it just when I was dreaming of the £900 insurance money (just look how much jokers in Classic Berk try to sell 3TAs for).

On reflection, maybe I don’t really hate it that much after all. It is pretty crash proof, reliable, very cheap to run and most of all jolly good fun, it is almost like a faithful dog after six years of thrashership. I’d recommend a cheap Brit to anyone with a sense of humour, just don’t take them too seriously and don’t pay some of the silly prices demanded in the classic comics.

Keith Elliott

 


 

Triumph Tiger 90

I’d always wanted a British bike - seven years ago my dream was fulfilled. A beautiful Triumph Tiger 90 of 1968 vintage. Of course, I’d heard the horror stories, but all that metallic blue silver had won me over before I’d even ridden the thing. Three hundred and fifty quid worse off, I rode out of Solihull, disappointed in the bike’s low geared feel but soaking up what I fondly imagined to be admiring glances like a sponge. And believe me, after a year on a CZ175 in Hammerite dark green, that was a new experience.

Things went pretty well that first summer - nothing broke except that the bike seemed reluctant to exceed 5000rpm or about 60mph. Oh, and I ran into a C50 head on; strange but true. The Honda was written off, but my lovely T90 shrugged the incident off with only a bent front wheel rim and slightly out of true front forks.

Anyway, time passed, the exhausts grew steadily smokier and the engine more rattly until a fairly long trip saw my first big engine failure. You know how it goes, riding along, not a care in the world, when one suddenly becomes aware of A New Noise. After a few miles it becomes no worse and gets put on the back burner of the worries list. But suddenly it’s serious. Stop, dismount and push the last two miles. Several weeks and an expensive rebuild later we were back in business.

It took six months of ownership to really get to know the Triumph. It accelerated with gusto between 3-4500rpm but feebly elsewhere. If the bike was happy to trundle along at 50mph on the flat, that speed quickly disappeared when faced with a hill or head wind. Quite embarrassing. really, as to the uninitiated it looked just like a Bonnie. I soon learnt to give up trying to keep up with modern 125s and tried to look superior as I rumbled around town. There is one advantage of those small pistons and minimal revs, vibes are never intrusive, in just over 30000 miles I’ve only had two bulbs fail.

Other nice features QD rear wheel, the addition of a Morgo oil pump and a TLS Bonnie front brake (spongy but powerful). Also, it’s blessed with 12V electrics which have not given any trouble except for the time the wiring behind the gearbox melted - as the ammeter isn’t lit at night, the first I knew of the problem was when the headlamp started to dim. After 60 miles I was stopped, but the police officer seemed more interested in the age of my tax disc. After 100 miles I was stopped again, this time because the headlamp had dimmed to Ever Ready cycle lamp levels. But the nice gentleman was very understanding and he even phoned home for me. Help arrived and I rode the last 20 miles home with a car battery in the pannier.

Over the next few years the Tiger and I settled down to a steady relationship. There were no major mechanical disasters, though I do remember being supplied with Tiger 100 pushrods, which because they’re slightly taller proceeded to destroy the upper cups against the rockers. For some reason the bike had been fitted with rocker arm balls slightly too big for the pushrods, so they had been bearing directly on the cup’s rim rather than snugly inside the cup. Still, these things are sent to try us, though rather expensive at £2.50 per pushrod. Valves aren’t cheap either, though for all I know Japanese bits may cost even more. Funnily enough, I’m still on the same valve guides the bike had when I bought it and it doesn’t use much oil.

In fact, during this time the old stick was proving pretty reliable. I did a round Britain (well, England and Wales) charity run, at the cost of one tail lamp bulb, and even settled into a 30 mile a day commuting routine for a time. Regular oil changes helped of course, doubly important for Triumphs of this era because of the awful coarse filters. The only answer is to invest in a cartridge filter conversion and/or flush out the oil tank at every change. The lubrication system is a masterpiece of engineering allowing grit into the oil pump, which reacts with the rest of the system to send oil out through the overflow pipe rather than back to the tank.

Once, after work, a crowd gathered around the bike to see if it’d start first kick - self congratulation was rapidly spoiled when someone pointed to the large pool of oil under the bike. This isn’t so bad, what really upsets owners is when a large quantity of oil is suddenly deposited on the back tyre. The six pint oil tank can be quickly drained and this led to the second bottom end rebuild, a cheapo job that only lasted 5000 miles.

Rebuild number three was done by a Triumph specialist, expensive but worth it. But three rebuilds in 30000 miles? Doesn’t that prove that British bikes in general, and Triumphs in particular, are simply fragile? But there’s also the Triumph’s confidence inspiring stability, wonderful noises and the fact that it has rarely let me down out on the road. And I’ve lost count of the number of conversations starting, "That’s a nice old Triumph you’ve got there." If goodwill sold motorcycles, there would still be thousands employed making them in Britain. And it still looks beautiful after seven years.

Furthermore, if current asking prices are any guide, it’s now worth around twice as much as I paid for it back in 1981. If all this sound like the ravings of a typically prejudiced, one-marque enthusiast, you're probably right. But as Ted Simon wrote in Jupiter's Travels, after riding around the world on a Triumph, "They thrive on attention, like certain people, and repay you for it. Not a bad relationship to have."

Peter Henshaw

 

Kawasaki GT750

I sold my bike, a T150 Trident, in 1978 when I moved with my work to London. So, when I was transferring back to Scotland in 1983, the first thing I did was to cash in my life insurance policy and arrange to buy another bike. I had read about the GT750 in the motorcycle press and it was getting good write-ups. A phone call to my local Scottish dealer confirmed they had one in stock and the deal was struck, the bike paid for sight unseen.

Those last few weeks in London seemed to drag on forever, and one of my last acts in the Smoke was to purchase a Monza jacket from Lewis Leathers. It was a rather self conscious customer who arrived at the dealers shop on a Saturday afternoon with a poseurs jacket (no scrapes, creases, etc) and a nervous smile - would it be too big, would I drop it?

Initial impressions were reassuring. My memories of the Trident were hazy but the Kawasaki looked solid and enormous. The detail finishing was a revelation after the Trident and the instruments and controls looked really neat. I ordered a colour matched fairing and drove home at a lazy 4000rpm/55mph enjoying the smoothness and sophistication of it all.

The first summer was fantastic. We hardly saw any rain and were clocking up a regular 250 miles each week going to and from work at a steady 85/95mph. The handling felt heavy but secure and the brakes were fantastic. The shaft drive felt totally unobtrusive and the bike polished up a treat. The rear Japlop was worn out by 4500 miles but that was my only expense apart from an additional oil change between 3000 mile services.

In the Autumn, I moved house nearer work, which cut my necessary mileage to around 50 miles a week. The downside was that I had to park the bike outside the house. Despite all my previous polishing, the bike soon became very grubby, especially the wheels (which were a real pig to clean) and the engine cases. The wheels seem to attract the dust from the brake pads which combined with corrosion to make cleaning difficult - they looked more black than the original gold and needed removal and much application of Gunk, Solvol and wire wool to clean them up. Road chippings soon removed the black paint at the front of the engine and road salt did the rest.

The frame paint was generally good - only a few weak points such as the swinging arm around the rear shock mountings letting the side down. Around this time the bike developed a sudden misfire at low revs, which I put down to dampness in the HT leads. I rode to work with the bike alternatively surging and spluttering, though it cleared at high revs. Leaving work, the bike wouldn’t start and I flattened the battery. It was pretty obvious that something serious was wrong - I could hear a ticking noise from the coils and the electronic tacho was leaping around the clock with a dead engine.

Unfortunately, I had to go away for a week, so I persuaded a friend to give me a tow with his Datsun car. I know enough not to tie a tow rope onto the bike but rather wrap it around something and hold it in case you have to let go when something goes wrong. I wrapped the rope around the handlebar and tried to hold onto it with one hand - as soon as we moved off the handlebars went onto full lock and I fell off. onto some nicely abrasive gravel. The usual scrapes resulted, plus bent clutch lever and broken indicators. I left it there for the dealer to pick up.

A faulty CDI unit was diagnosed, fortunately, replaced under warranty. The bike was running fine again when I made the mistake of removing the exhaust system to clean it up and apply some black paint to replace the rust - a waste of time as it just fell off after a week. Unfortunately I was never able to achieve a proper gas tight fit at the cylinder head, despite using new exhaust gaskets and collets.

I solved that problem by fitting a Motad that went on alright, increased mid-range power, but left the centre stand to clatter against the shaft drive housing - two letters to Motad provoked no response so I made my own stop with a piece of scrap metal.

This apart, the bike continued to run like a train with only the occasional 3000 mile service denting my wallet. I had changed the front tyre at 6000 miles and I replaced the second rear at 8000 miles because I thought it had punctured. I was racing an Opel Manta when the bike started wiggling - I put this down to mud on the road and carried on, next morning the tyre was flat. It was only after I pulled the tyre off that I realised it was down to the valve.

Perhaps due to the action of the tyre levers on the tubeless rims I was never able to obtain a proper seal again and this was a bit of a nuisance as I didn’t have a pump. Many a time I’d wobbled into the garage with about 6psi left in the tyres. And while I’m on the subject, tubeless tyres are a real pain to remove, we couldn’t break the beading even after running a car over the rim (which, on reflection, couldn’t have helped them). The tang on the centrestand broke, but was easily replaced save for the nasty spring. While I was under the bike I replaced the stop light switch which had packed up six months earlier - it’s perfectly situated to pick up all the crud and the new one quickly failed.

When I got married, expenses escalated rapidly and the GT had even less money spent on servicing it than before, but it still ran beautifully despite its rapidly deteriorating appearance. With a holdall on the well used luggage rack and a tank bag, my wife and I had enough luggage capacity for our honeymoon tour of England and a visit to the TT races. On motorways, the bike could still pull an easy 90mph, although my wife complained about vibes through the pillion footrests. Even at highly illegal speeds, the consumption never dipped below 40mpg.

The handling had started deteriorating with a weave at 80mph on curves and at 110mph in a straight line. I think this was made worse by partially worn tyres, but the suspension didn’t help as it was a real pig to set up properly. I was dubious about air suspension front and rear, and I must admit to ignoring the front end without any ill effects. The rear suspension was very fiddly and it was very difficult to reduce pressure properly without causing instant deflation (which causes the tyre to rub through the wiring under the mudguard).

The brakes deteriorated until they would barely stop the bike going backwards on a steep hill. I replaced the fluid and the pads (genuine Kawa jobs), but couldn’t afford Goodridge hoses which may have helped as they weren't much better. On one memorable occasion we left the M6 at Junction 14 and I just couldn’t stop at the top of the slip road despite a death grip on the bars - big thanks to the Artic driver who wasn’t fazed by our appearance in his path.

The paintwork was showing signs of wear and I had the handlebar fairing, mudguards, tanks and side panels sprayed Porsche, sorry Post Office, red for £20. The rear number plate carrier had rusted through and a new one was purchased. I hadn’t changed the oil for 4000 miles and when doing so discovered that the garage had stripped the thread for the sump plug. The repair only cost a few quid, but scraping off all the old gasket was a real pain and small oil weeps have plagued the bike since.

I traded in the Kawa (worth £1000, the dealer sold it for £1400) for a Flying Brick, after four years and 20000 miles of pretty damn good service despite the neglect, it never let me down (CDI unit aside) and it was great to know you could get on it and know you'd reach your destination, a feeling of confidence unknown to me in my Triumph days.

W.J.McGill

BSA A65

Today, it seems, you can apply the word classic to just about anything. Simply target the subject of your choice, embellish it with suitable hype, and hey-presto, yet another classic emerges from its chrysalis to unfurl its glittering wing under the care of greedy dealers and the gaze of gullible Joe Public.

Such is the misuse of the word, that the subject matter doesn’t even require the distinction of being old - witness the imbecile drone of the Radio 1 DJ drawing attention to the classic Abba or Michael Jackson album track - and I thought only Bach and the Beatles wrote classics.

From the classic cauliflower to the classic condom, there is plenty of scope for the acquisitive investor in classics. In the world of motorcycles, such classic mania can produce spectacle of the most ironical and farcical kind. Classics of this genre may be listed under two categories - the natural classic (rare) and the accidental classic (plentiful). Natural classics include such mechanical marvels as your Vincents, Brough Superiors, Manx Nortons and so on.

They were enormously expensive in their day (granted they were hand made, but what wasn’t in those days?) and are even more expensive in this era of compact discs and even more compact brains. The accidental classic includes just about everything else made in England, plus a good few machines from Japan.

Between a Normal Nippy and a Z1 the choice is vast. Of similar magnitude is the money that can cater to that choice. Nostalgia and the chance to generally luxuriate in the heady aromas of lost youth, are some of the seductive trappings offered by the classic world of motorcycles.

Classic dealers and magazines were very quick to exploit this lucrative market - especially now the bottom has dropped out of the bike market. Simply compare the purchasing power of someone who has worked for twenty years against a penniless trainee on one of the government’s many schemes. The vastly inflated prices asked for what is basically fairly mediocre and primitive machinery should therefore come as no surprise.

In the classic comics one is often greeted with carefully posed pictures of the born again rocker, replete with bulging leathers and stomach, stretched painfully over a machine that the Spanish Inquisition would have been proud to exploit for their sadistic purposes. Such high comedy has its more serious side when it is realised that many of these born again bikers are not serious motorcyclists at all. Sensibly realising the value and very real limitations of their machinery they will continue to clock most of their mileage in the family car, while the classic rests highly polished under wraps awaiting its next concours award. There are exceptions; but, unfortunately, not sufficient to influence the overall tacky picture of xenophobic editors with vested interests, together with greedy and rapacious classic dealers that make dealers in Jap machinery look almost saintly by comparison.

However, what is scarce is different, and what is different is generally accepted as good posing tackle. Therein may lie the secret of why, one day, I decided to trade in a perfectly serviceable Honda CB650 for a non standard and rather dishevelled 1968 BSA A65 Thunderbolt. The following year of trying to get the bike back to something like the original gave me plenty of time to reflect on the soundness of my decision to ditch the Honda.

The BSA possessed an owner history often pertinent to the breed - owned by an ape and restored by a gorilla. The so-called original. restoration consisted of nothing more or less than a huge bodge of colossal dimensions. Metric bolts crammed into Whitworth holes, non-standard front, back, top and bottom gives you some idea of the task that lay ahead. Since the front assembly consisted of components cannibalised from a B40, that was first to go.

The lethal B40 brake drum (grooved and oval inside) was replaced by the Triumph/ BSA TLS set-up, which at least gave me some brakes (surprisingly, the machine actually came with a MOT). The rest of the rebuild followed the above pattern of substituting bodged, non-standard bits with the proper items.

Forget what classic experts say about bits being plentiful for the more popular marques. This may be true for engine parts, but some cycle parts are almost impossible to find. Some oddball characters derive a kind of masochistic pleasure in trying to track down obscure motorcycle bits - they must have nothing better to do. Also forget the myth about bargain rebuilds a cheap restoration looks exactly what it is - cheap. My money ran out before I could do much to the engine, except replace the primary drive and clutch.

If my bank balance is ever restored, I might drop the whole lump off at a specialist engineer familiar with its weaknesses who can improve on the original BSA design the bottom end fails if the thing is used enthusiastically. Some go on forever if ridden carefully - but what doesn’t? Roller timing side conversion and revised oil ways appear to make the engine as bullet proof as it ever will be.

Even without that treatment it still runs acceptably well, although I dare not look inside the motor. It runs much nicer in the curves than the straights and the single carb head helps the tired engine average 60mpg. It’s also smoother than similar sized Nortons and Triumphs, which fetch much more than the oft maligned A65. Unlike the ugly, later, oil in the frame, version I once owned, I regard my A65 as the real McCoy.

Even at today’s prices it’s still possible to buy a  British classic and restore it for less than the cost of a new Jap middleweight. When you have eventually passed through such a veil of tears, you won’t have to shed any more tears at the ridiculous depreciation values suffered by owners of these new Japanese machines. Thankfully, even the humble A65 is now classed as a classic.

Gerald Sturdy 

The machine in these pictures still exists as of this year, presumably because - like most British Classics - it is polished to oblivion and never actually ridden anywhere... 2021 Ed.

Yamaha XS400

Three days after the Bonnie was sold I picked up a nice Jap bike. It was the first four that I’d owned and the first with an electric start. I rode the CB550K home and was somewhat shocked to find that the £20 PDI had left the chain bar tight, a stanchion bolt and nut was missing and that it had too much oil in the sump. I suppose that the dealer did have a Jag to run...

I found that after the Triumph the Honda was soggy in corners and that it seemed to lack bottom end power. However, I decided to forget about the British horror and think of the smooth, smooth, motor.

With 1000 miles on the clock I changed the oil and filter and generally checked the bike over - for some strange reason I could not come to terms with running a four - it did everything I wanted but unfortunately felt that it was just a little bland. A shame, ‘cos it looked great, with brown paintwork and lotsa chrome... I think I basically wanted a 500cc twin with good economy and handling, a little vibration at low speed, smoothing out above 50mph, with the usual attributes of reliability and affordability.

I picked up my new Yam XS400 a few weeks later. The road test in Bike Magazine had slagged the little Yam, so I figured it must be good. The Yam came to me in perfect condition, a fact that still astounds me because of all the new bikes I’ve bought, the XS is the only one that didn’t need adjustment or bolts tightened up before I could use it.

Riding the Yam home introduced me to the characteristic primary drive whine and a slight vibration. The handling was what I wanted - nice and taut. Running the XS in went really well; at the 500 mile service - you don’t think I’d trust a dealer, do you? - all I needed to adjust was the ignition timing.

With 800 miles on the clock, a leisurely jaunt to Yorkshire was planned with a friend on a Z650. As we rode into Harrogate and as I pulled in the clutch the revs shot up to 6000rpm. I adjusted the idle stop and all was well. We had a stroll around the town, a bite to eat, then filled up the tank and headed for York then Scarborough. Since the idle had been adjusted the Yam felt much sweeter, obviously the engine must have loosened up. On the way home, I opened up the Yam to 7000rpm for the first time (80mph), the engine felt unburstable at that speed and the exhaust had a healthy bark.

With 1500 miles on the clock I decided to service the bike, problem was no dealers in Newcastle had a genuine oil filter. I had to take the CB550 out for a run to Batley where I bought five filters. The tappets and ignition didn’t need adjusting. The chain was loose but there was plenty of adjustment left. The XS400 has two oil drain plugs, the one for the primary drive having a special washer that has to be replaced each time the oil is changed. No dealers had one, but I found that a Leyland injector washer fitted and cured the leak (pack of ten for 40p).

By 2500 miles the motor was sweet as a nut and it was time for our first long run, two up in company with some big Jap fours and British and Wop classics, to Bristol for a 21st birthday party. Perhaps because of the Yam’s small size and, perhaps, because of the bad road test, everyone thought that it couldn’t cruise at 70mph two up - in fact, an owner of a Ducati 450 advised that I set off an hour before the rest of the chaps.

We started off slowly, 60mph down the country roads with the rest of the bunch. It was a really nice May morning and a joy to take all the cars. On the M6 I wound her open to 85mph, the engine felt unburstable and the road was smooth. I felt I could screw the XS up to its top speed, but refrained myself. I enjoyed overtaking the Ducati, a Honda 400/4 and a T150.

At our first stop for petrol, the XS400 idled over lovely and smooth, no roughness, signs of stress or oil leaks, Back on the road and up to 85mph, again, all the way to Bristol. Sadly, the Duke and T150 didn’t make it to Bristol - I'm not laughing while I write this, honest. During the party the CB400/4 owner informs me that he’s going to beat me home by half an hour. I don’t accept the race, telling him that sometimes I like to ride at 50mph (something to do with my Triumph days). Party over, the XS400 refused to start. I told the others to go on without me. I flattened the battery.

I kicked the engine over so many times that I had to strip off. After fitting some new plugs and kicking it over for fifteen minutes, the engine roared into life. Quite a common fault, apparently, with no known cure. I zoomed up the MS at 90mph, until I caught up with the others. The Z900 and CB750 shot off, the 400/4 goes past, the owner giving me the V sign. I opened up the Yam, can’t get past the 400, but he can’t get away. We sped along between 90 and 100mph, depending on road and traffic conditions.

We all pull in for petrol at Lancaster; the Yam idles smoothly at 1100rpm, the Honda sounds upset at two grand. From Lancaster to Carlisle we hold 80mph with no trouble. From Carlisle to Newcastle I indulge the other side of the Yam, and enjoy myself dawdling at a mere 50mph the 400/4 owner was happy too as he kept up his pace and arrived home half an hour earlier than us.

After a mere 4000 miles the rear chain was shot and the bike needed new contact breakers - it’s never refused to start since Bristol. The tappets never needed adjusting (Mr Honda please note). The motor used no oil between changes and it averaged 60mpg - I never could work out why it gave better fuel consumption at 80mph than 70mph.

The XS was used at night for rides to pubs and folk clubs, at weekends for long runs in the company of a Z650 and bigger fours, both solo and two up. In eight months I did 12500 miles on the XS and really liked the bike. I wasn’t the only one, someone pinched it. I really did miss it as nothing ever fell off or even came loose and it really did feel unburstable.

I rode the 550 four for a while, but my heart wasn’t in it and by the time I’d put 2500 miles on the clock I was looking for a twin again. Yamaha were only making custom 400 twins, so I made a big mistake and took the advice of the glossy magazines and bought a Honda 400NA Superdream - what a load of rubbish.

The dealer delivered the bike a mere five hours late. It was idling at 4500rpm, the steering head was loose, the brakes were full of air locks and the seat was torn - so much for the £25 PDI. I complained to the dealer who said he’d fix it at the 500 mile butchery, er, service, but I fixed the faults myself and wrote two letters of complaint to Honda who never bothered to reply.

The Superdream always felt stressed and by 2000 miles the head gasket had been changed three times by three different dealers. At 2500 miles I fitted a new head gasket with a touch of Araldite and torqued down the head way beyond the recommended setting - it never leaked again. The Honda may have looked better than the Yam, and it probably handled a little better, but engine wise it was a lot worse. The best fuel consumption was 50mpg, which went down to 40mpg at 75mph.

Cruise the thing at 75mph for as little as ten miles and the idle became very rough at 3000rpm, showing signs of the stress. I always felt that it was going to break so never really rode much distance on the Honda, doing only 9000 miles in two years. I was glad to see the back of it. I kept the CB550 as back up and bought a CB250RS as a serious hack.

The Yam had a much simpler and more reliable engine than the Honda. I could thrash the Yam in the same way as those old sixties Honda twins. The Superdream looked very flash but this just hid poor engineering (balance shafts when they weren’t really needed, for instance) and I’d buy the Yam every time. Long term reliability of either bike is not particularly good...

William Gould

 

MZ 250

My brother told me about it. The bike had no tax but would come with a new MOT - all for £30. The engine ran, leaping in the rubber mounts, the speedo didn’t work and it was painted yellow.

I parted with my cash, followed my brother home. The bike had a heavy, slow gear change, really soft suspension and a riding position that if it was strange at first soon became quite comfortable.

The next morning I checked my new steed over. It had Avon Speedmasters on both 16" wheels, a rusty exhaust that I painted black, and a top box. I wanted a cheap hack and that’s what I got.

A new rear speedo drive allowed the speedo to work. Top speed was an indicated 80mph, flat (or humped to be more precise). on the three and a half gallon petrol tank.

MZs have an enclosed chain, rubber fork gaiters and QD wheels as standard. The 6V indicators stopped working and it was impossible to remove the lens covers - so the indicators were hacksawed off and it was back to good old hand signals.

These bikes run on pre-mix fuel, there’s a measuring cup on the petrol cap, but you still need to carry a bottle of oil. Mine always gave between 65 and 70mpg. I had a load of plugs from my KH, so I used these with no ill effects.

I painted the tank and side panels in blue Hammerite but the finish wasn’t very impressive and the bike reacted by becoming reluctant to start. The battery became flat, and even in the emergency ignition position the bike stayed dead. I soon found the cause, one of the leads from the generator had come adrift, once replaced reliability returned.

When the front Avon became a bit worn on top, the only one I could find as a replacement was a Pneumant which cost £3, but wasn’t worth it as it had no grip whatsoever. I would not recommend one of these tyres to my worst enemy.

As I didn’t want to spend any more money on the bike, I continued to put my life at risk in the hands of what must be the worst tyre in the whole world. Even the appalling front brake can cause it to break away.

One day, in the middle of winter, the bike refused to turn over. Removal of the barrel revealed that one of the rings had seized and the big-end had gone. As it would have cost money to repair, that was the end of my affair with the MZ. I’m older now, were I to fine a nice one with decent tyres, I might be persuaded to buy it.

Paul Gould

 

Honda CB125S

I bought a scruffy, 1975 Honda CB125S from a dealer for £150 with 25000 miles on the clock. The brakes were a joke, it was out accelerated by most 100s, but it would cruise at sixty and do 90mpg.

A change of cables and shoes went some way to improving the brakes (£5 for the lot from a breakers), but they were never more than adequate. The handling, however, was beyond repair; an oversize rear tyre had been fitted by the dealer and, possibly as a result of this, it simply would not corner fast. Attempting to follow a more exotically mounted friend (GP100!) around aright angle bend, at moderate speed, resulted in the rear sliding away. Whatever one’s opinion of Yokohoma rubber, the poor tyre quality alone was not enough to account for the total inability of the machine to be chucked hard into the bends.

Forced to ride sedately the machine was reasonably stable within its limits. For trotting across town the Honda was ideal - the low mass and centre of gravity meant it could be weaved through traffic despite the handling, whilst the mildly tuned motor meant it could be stuck in top when following traffic at speeds above 25. It should be noted that 100mpg is easily achievable around town, acceleration was just about adequate to keep up with traffic although those wishing to move faster than the stream might need something more powerful. The little Honda, then, just about copes with its given role as a cheap commuter. At seven years and 25000 miles, the bike was something of a dog when purchased. However, it cleaned up reasonably well.

The seat had been recovered but the base was rusted beyond repair, but was not replaced and did not fall off (quite) in eighteen months. The rear shocks (original) were predictably shot, but still proved quite adequate for two-up town riding. The centre stand was warped and did not hold the rear wheel off the ground. The paint was badly faded, the front guard rattled, the rear was rusted, but neither was bad enough to require replacement. All in all, not bad for an elderly bike which had clearly been somewhat neglected.

Day to day reliability was truly excellent. It always started first kick from cold provided the throttle was held. slightly open, and would then rev and tickover well. Choke was only necessary when cold and could be dispensed with immediately. The only things to fail in my 10000 miles were the bulbs which blew every couple of months - a result of the excessive vibration rather than any electrical fault - and the horn which cost £5 to replace from a breaker.

However, all was not bliss. Two weeks after purchase, the thing refused to rev beyond 7000rpm, when it would misfire badly. Since the redline is 9500rpm and Honda singles must be revved hard if progress is going to be slow, instead of absurdly slow, top speed was cut to 50mph and it was too slow to keep up with the traffic.

The dealer I purchased the bike from (since defunct) was less than helpful, informing me that I could not expect a four stroke single to rev like a two stroke and, no, he wouldn’t investigate the problem. I suppose one should expect no more for the money, but is it any wonder that people are put off motorcycling? Still, having no money and less mechanical experience, I continued to ride it in this state, until a few weeks later an oil leak appeared in the cylinder head. You guessed it, the camchain (of this “carefully prepared" machine) hadn’t been adjusted correctly.

It ran well (the term is relative) with nothing more than adjustment of chains, brakes and topping up the oil thanks to the oil leak. The oil was changed every 2000 miles, although every 1000 miles would have been more sensible. A replacement barrel was eventually bought for £12 from a breaker. Despite the lack of maintenance the camchain was still OK after 30000 miles and I was most impressed by the engine’s durability after my 10000 miles. I managed to sell the bike for what I paid for it.

Would I, however, recommend this model to prospective purchasers? Frankly, no. Reliability, durability and economy were impressive and the only real fault arose from a mixture of dealer incompetence and owner ignorance. However, it was unpleasant to ride, it was slow, whilst the mixture of engine vibration and noise made it feel crude. Moreover, the poor handling relegated the role of the bike to that of a plodder. The machine excelled only in its role as a basic, economic, commuter. On longer journeys the bike became tiring due to the vibes and the lack of distraction (or fun) provided by the minimal power.

The Suzuki A100 that replaced the Honda, was faster, lighter and better handling (Christ, it must have been bad - 2021 Ed.), although it might not last much beyond 30000 miles. More importantly, it cost half as much to insure which more than offset its greater thirst (80mpg). The Honda does have much to offer as a cheap commuter but if you laugh at the MZ or CZ then give it a miss.

M Kapoor

 

CZ 175

I’d owned an MZ from new with no problems until I put the bike under a 36 ton artic (those famous wooden tyres again) and decided that was enough of motorcycling for me, thank you very much. Well, Christmas came and went, I recovered from the accident and then realised I needed some transport to get me ten miles to work and back. The purchase of a £20 Honda C90 provided some commuting power for a few weeks until it gave up in a terminal manner.

I had to look for something better. The breakthrough came at a mates house. I saw a CZ175 hiding in a corner, rather dilapidated, rusting away. It was his fathers, who had exchanged some scaffolding for it but had left it standing for five years because he couldn’t be bothered to fit some new oil seals, that had gone with only 1100 miles on the clock.

Six five pound notes exchanged hands and I was the owner of a CZ175, for my sins. At home, a real horror story was revealed with too much rust and too many missing parts. Even at CZ prices, the missing parts added up to a frightening amount. I went back to my mates house to search for them. We found most of them, I only had to buy a rear chain and the oil seals.

The rusty wheels were cleaned up and painted. Everything else was attacked with a wire brush, polished or painted, until the thing began to look presentable. After picking up a manual from the library, the seals went in OK and the rebuild was surprisingly easy, despite the fact that the engine bits had been stored in margarine tubs half full of water. Only the joke kickstart/gear lever gave any cause for concern, with a spring that could probably do good service in Big Ben and took over an hour to fit.

I suddenly realised that I didn’t have a log-book and rushed off to the PO to fill in the appropriate form. The engine slotted into the frame, I connected up the electrics and fitted in a new battery. Surprise, surprise, it started 3rd kick. True, the engine rapidly transformed a pleasing chugging note into a screaming wail, that was only stopped by turning off the ignition key.

This was soon fixed by evicting the spiders from the carbs, but then the engine refused to run for more than five minutes. By this time the pubs had opened so I trotted off to give the problem some serious consideration. Inspiration did not come until the next day when on inspection it was found that the petrol tap had not been cleaned for 11 years. That more or less cleared up the problem.

As the bike wasn’t taxed I kept going to work by train and ran the bike around the village to keep it going and sort out any teething problems. The most embarrassing was the awful kickstart. I was showing off to some local lads how I could kickstart the bike whilst sat on it, only to receive a kickback which took most of my ankle with it. I rapidly decided to only start the bike from the side.

The trains started costing too much money and became unreliable, so I rode the CZ with no tax; it was that or have no job. The first day was a disaster. I’d noticed that the battery was going a bit flat, but put it down to excessive riding at night. Being late for work, I left the machine running outside the local shop only to find that it had stalled and the neutral light (which was usually more like a 100W bulb) was not lit.

I pushed the bike home and used jump leads on an old Bantam battery I had handy, but as soon as I replaced the cover the engine stalled again. After ten valuable minutes wasted shouting all known obscenities at the heap, it eventually dawned that the positive terminal was shorting out on the cover. The wiring was starting to smoulder because I’d removed the fuse (it had kept blowing), but the problem cleared up once I’d relocated the terminal.

As I was extremely late and angry, I thrashed the bike all the way to work. The rumour spread that I had a bike and quite a crowd gathered around it at break time. The comments were not too kind and I determined to prove them all wrong by thrashing the bike every day. Every day, I treated my ride to work as a continual drag race, as hard as I tried I could not blow up the engine. Even a mate, who was famed for wrecking Honda 100s and 125s, failed to destroy the CZ when he borrowed it every Saturday - he became quite fond of it.

There was one slight problem, the engine would suddenly stop due to the old petrol tap. I eventually handed over £4 for a new one and this solved the problem. The suspension is quite bad - every ripple in the tarmac is transmitted to the handlebars. On bumpy roads it’s just a case of holding onto the handlebars with a grip of iron and hope for the best. The back end is only slightly better with a tendency to pogo at the least provocation. The tyres are slightly better than the awful things they wrap around the alloy wheels of MZs. They do last a very long time - the cost of a decent set of tyres is more than the value of the bike...

Mine being the earlier type of engine, it had oil injection which worked a treat and was a lot less hassle than mixing oil into the petrol. Overall, they're not such bad bikes. If you ever have the chance to buy one cheaply I’d recommend that you go for it.

C Allcock

 

Triumph Tiger Cub

The guy only wanted sixty quid for it and it was still running. It was a ’59 model, with the large mudguards, big headlamp and dumpy styled tank. The money changed hands and I burbled off into the distance, or urban Southampton if you insist on being realistic. It went up to about 50mph without any trouble, then all hell broke loose, the handlebars and footrests shook, the petrol tank thrummed and the front wheel started skating around.

This was going to be fun, I thought. Reasoning that it'd smooth out if I accelerated through the vibration patch. No such luck, it just got worse and worse. Back down to just under 50mph and it smoothed out. It felt like a CBX1000 in comparison at lower revs.

I pulled back the front brake lever, beginning to panic as pressure increased and it made no effect on retardation. Down through the gearbox, stamp on the rear brake and it sort of skidded to a halt. Half width SLS drums were not the things good braking were made of, although the engine braking could be quite effective you just had to plan ahead.

A hundred yards from home, the silencer fell off. The Cub sounded like a grass tracker strung out on full power. The silencer was rusted through and beyond repair. No problem, though, I had a couple of old megaphones in the garage. The next morning it refused to start. One look at the wiring solved that problem talk about bodging, a mess of Sellotape and bits of strange wire. I tore it all out and spent a pleasant Saturday rewiring the bike properly - the other half wasn’t very amused as she’d assumed we were going shopping.

There was plenty of compression and a nasty tendency to kick back. A quick check of the contact breakers revealed points that were loose and worn. But the bike still started so I was able to run down to the local British bike shop with my new steed. With the ignition sorted the bike ran rather well up to 60mph, then power disappeared and the vibes came in. The brakes were frightening and I dug out some forks and wheel off a Triumph 5TA. These took a week to fit but it was worth the effort as the weaves had all but disappeared and the front brake actually had an effect. Fuel was very good 80 to 110mpg depending on riding conditions. The old Avons still stuck to the road and didn’t appear to wear.

I did 8000 miles in a year, mostly weekend and evening stuff with the occasional run to work to impress my colleagues. I never had to take the head off or touch the engine. I did do regular maintenance and changed the oil every 1000 miles. I’ve stripped down most of the old fashioned bits on the Cub, replacing them with later items that look much more sporting. It now looks A1.

So far I’ve spent a total of £125 on the bike and it looks worth a lot, lot more. Some guy offered me £400 for it the other day but I wasn’t willing to sell it. I have been thinking of buying another Cub for bits as they are becoming rare and expensive, but have not yet come across any more at £60, so this may have to suffice.

Alex Worth

 

Honda CB250G5

Time has been kind to the looks of the G5. And that’s about the only good think that I can think to say about the passing years and miles that I’ve clocked up. I was stuck with the Honda when learners were forced to ride 125s and the value of the Honda disappeared overnight. If there were a few people who might have accepted the Honda as a free gift, there was no way I could sell it for sufficient money to buy anything better.

The motor is famed, of course, for having bearings for the camshafts as part of the cylinder head. With tiny oil ways the heads last for about ten thousand miles if the oil’s changed every 750 miles. I’ve gone through three. The pistons and bore last about 25000 miles, and with 37500 on the clock I think the small end/conrod is on the way out - which means a new crank.

I’ve also had trouble with the six speed gearbox, fifth and second keep jumping out, so I have to ride around them - not easy as the GS has a paucity of both power and torque and to maintain a 70mph cruising speed needs rapid changing between fourth and sixth.

Then there’s the rectifier, which has leads that fall off just inside the casing - it’s held in position with a couple of elastic bands and a few prayers. The battery has long since been chucked and a large electrolytic capacitor fitted - when the rectifier leads lose contact the bike just stalls with far from amusing consequences.

The front disc brake is dangerous in the wet and the caliper needs rebuilding every 5000 miles, although the pads do last well. Rear shocks don’t work out of town, with weaves on motorways and pogoing on bumpy bends. That said, the frame is quite strong and no speed wobbles result. Top speed is just below 80mph, downhill and it averages 50mpg in nearly all modes. Rust has eaten away the frame and cycle parts, and all the chrome has long since disappeared.

Good points are a nice feel in town, with a very chuckable chassis and enough urge in the lower gears to keep Escorts guessing. And the OHC vertical twin engine sounds rather good, especially with rusted baffles and holes in the silencer. There are lots of dead engines in breakers, it’s simple to tear apart and rebuild.

I paid far too much for the Honda to consider it as a cheap hack but that’s what it’s turned out to be and there’s little more I can say.

W Deels

 

Suzuki GSX250

The GSX was called fast by the standards of its class. Large and imposing for a 250, it boasted a hydraulic front disc, electronic ignition, electric start (with no kickstart) and the legend 8 valves on its side panels in support of the 26hp engine.

My particular GSX had been given a bright red frame by its previous owner, well matched to the bright red tank and tail, red/black side panels. Its stylish and immaculate appearance was rounded off by a clean engine and spotless original chrome exhausts - a definite plus point as a friend’s bike fitted with a 2-1 was never free of flat spots.

Out on the road, performance was brisk enough for urban areas or even an evening saunter down a country lane, with fuel consumption of around 65mpg. However, sixth gear was really an overdrive, the top speed of 85mph had to be attained by redlining the bike in fifth and then changing up.

I made a weekly 25 mile journey mostly on dual carriageways, whilst the bike could be held at 80mph on the flat, it was always obvious that it was running out of enthusiasm much beyond 70mph. Opening the throttle at that speed produced little or no effect, which I felt was rather dangerous as I didn’t have the option of accelerating out of trouble.

On one occasion the clutch cable broke at the wrong end of the dual carriageway. Paddling along in second and thumbing the starter button allowed me to start off. This was fine until I had to exit the dual carriageway, when some very careful work at road junctions was needed.

After a while, the collector box rotted and I was alarmed to find that even pattern parts cost £25. So from a breaker I bought two chrome downpipes for 50p and cut out two straight sections. These were used to connect each downpipe to its respective silencer. The bike now had a fully separate exhaust from each cylinder, but there was no change in appearance to the casual observer and I didn’t notice any change in performance or fuel consumption. I was quite pleased with the money I saved; but I was about to need it.

The really boring thing about the GSX was its electrics. On a couple of mornings the starter had been sluggish, so I’d charged the battery, putting the problem down to short journeys in cold weather. Then the battery needed charging more and more often. Finally when it wouldn’t turn the engine at 5pm after being charged the night before, I stuck in a new battery. In 48 hours this too was flat. The bike was now like an electric milk float, always parked on a slope and connected to a charger as soon as it got home - if I got there.

With a Haynes manual and a test lamp I discovered the alternator stator was burnt out, flattening the battery by allowing current to leak slowly to earth through the coils. With the alternator disconnected, the bike was much improved, running for several days between battery charges (I was told of one machine running permanently with a car battery in the top box).

Harbouring ambitions for a normal life, I removed the stator and had the blackened remains of two of its nine coils rewound locally. A week later the battery was suddenly flat. I removed the stator a second time to find two blackened coils. Back to the rewind shop who rewound them for free after an argument, but insisting that the regulator/rectifier unit was probably doing the damage. I had it tested and the replacement cost £54 new as there were none available from the breakers.

So the entire charging system was in a state of virginal freshness just in time for the BMF rally. 100 miles from home I stopped for a pee, returned to the bike to find that the starter churned over like it was about to be sick. I stared in disbelief. Then I knelt for a while by the front wheel, not in prayer but in a forlorn attempt to find some other reason for the calamity. I disconnected the alternator again, push started it and continued to Peterborough - the almost completely dead idiot lights testified to the depleted battery.

Amidst those thousands of bikers it was humiliating to own the one that had just died. I wandered around the show trying to forget my troubles and put a leg over some new Kawasakis. A pleasant chap at rally control had a battery charger, to my great relief, so I just had to fetch the battery (a very irritating item to remove, by the way).

I could only partially charge the battery in the time available. I filled the fuel tank to the brim and set off grimly into the drizzle, wondering if I had sufficient battery power to make it home. I ploughed on and on and on, soaked to the skin as the rain had turned heavy, not daring to stop. The thick clouds and pouring rain made evening come early, calling for lights, which I dared not use. Finally I switched on the lights, the bike lost 10mph, so I switched them off.

With a few miles to go, a misfire set in and speed dropped off. I crawled home by going down through the gears. On the last few yards the motor cut out completely and I coasted in. As everything had already been renewed, there was no more scope for throwing money at the problem. I bought wire for 70p and rewound the stator coils myself two times with much the same result as the professional rewinds. Stator removal is not difficult (I cut my own gaskets to save money) but the oil must be drained.

Eventually this incessant rigmarole led me to forget to tighten up the sump plug, leading to the engine oil being deposited in front of the back wheel. The wheel developed a life of its own, but I was able to hang on through some wild antics until it stopped at the end of a long oil slick. I couldn’t find the sump plug, but a passing motorcyclist and a farmer came to my aid; we found that the oil pressure sender from an old Ford made a fine substitute - not many people know that.

The nine stator coils are quite small, each wound with three layers of wire, 10 turns per layer. I bought a scrap burnt out stator body plus a big roll of wire about 20% thicker than the original, and totally rewound my new stator with the thicker wire using 24 turns per coil instead of 30. I took care to duplicate the original winding pattern, avoiding scratching the varnish and testing frequently for short circuits, sealing it all with shellac varnish (I used Rustin’s Knotting from a woodwork shop).

Miraculously, after so many months of trouble, this home brew appeared to work. The battery charged, the bike started when required. But the whole thing began to feel stale, after so much toil. In between rewinds I had become used to the performance and needed full throttle everywhere. And I was still. unhappy with the way the thing could be threatened by HGVs at high speeds. So with regrets for its appearance and comfort I sold it to buy a bigger machine.

It had been, as they say, a learning experience, and I had appreciated the help from fellow bikers and the farmer, but I didn’t feel the same about the chap. who, er, designs electrics for Suzukis. They’d do better to stick a pulley on the end of the crank and use a dynamo off a Morris Minor.

Andrew Eccles