Copyright (c) GoodMotorcycles.com 2008
I don't blame anyone other than myself for buying this bike. Youthful enthusiasm overcame all other realities, even the most abominable cost of insurance. So there I was, 18 with a 1982 machine that looked like it had gone around the clock, although the speedo only said 24,637 miles. A new MOT had been part of the deal, but it had probably been done by a back street merchant who wasn't too particular.
That was three years ago and the Honda is still running, having done another 42000 miles without having to strip down the engine, which I thought rather good going - better than I expected, anyway. Predictably, it wasn't all plain sailing, along the way I had to make various mods to the chassis and do some refurbishment work.
Riding impressions first, though. It has to be admitted that the Honda is a hefty lump. Even with a lightweight 4-1 exhaust and some prudent chucking of unimportant components, it still breaks the scales at over 500lbs. As I weigh less than eleven stone myself, this is a massive lump for me to chuck around.
Low speeds are bad enough to be back wrenching. I still have not become entirely used to the way the thing will try to rapidly flop over. Between 30 and 80mph the Honda is at its best - the CB came with Koni shocks and a fork brace which help damp out the tendency of the frame to let the machine weave in this speed range. It never has felt like it is on rails but doesn't become frightening unless more than 80mph is attempted. Then it's a case of all the mass ganging up to send the machine into all kinds of interesting traumas.
Decent tyres help a lot here, the Honda is one of those bikes that does not like to run on worn rubber. Arrowmaxes or Metz's offer the best combination of grip and wear. Thus equipped, I have cruised at 90 to 100mph for long distances without experiencing wild speed wobbles but the bumpier the road gets the larger the weaves become.
The most I've put on the clock has been 135mph. I only did this the once, as hitting a slight bump sent the handlebars into wild oscillations. Using any speed above the ton is asking for trouble. This has had a useful side effect of preserving my licence and not ruining my engine.
Not that the amount of secondary vibes above 7500rpm encourages wild thrashing of the DOHC engine. A particularly annoying patch of vibration also hits the bars and pegs at 70 to 80mph in top, which can be most annoying on gentle motorway blasts. As the engine has aged, so have the vibes increased - to the extent that I now have to go over the machine tightening up loose bolts after a long, hard thrash.
Power delivery is surprisingly mild below 5000rpm and although 75 horses are claimed an awful lot of them are absorbed in overcoming the momentum of all the mass. Still, ringing the neck of the engine in the lower gears can be grin inducing but the motor is a bit of a curious design in having neither much torque nor a really spectacular power punch.
All the stranger, then, that the engine needed frequent maintenance sessions to keep it in tune. With sixteen valves and four carbs to check, many a Sunday morning was wasted. I got into the habit of checking them and changing the oil every 600 miles. Judging by the stories other owners have related of top end demise at low mileages the effort was more than worthwhile.
Even now, once set up properly, the engine is surprisingly quiet, with only the reassuring (they all have it) clutch rattle, a leftover from the original sixties CB750 four, a bike I once had the pleasure of burning off in no uncertain terms. I am not impressed by those overpriced classics.
I suspect they may well have managed better on the fuel front, the FB rarely did better than 40mpg, usually turning in 35mpg. In the early days when I was getting used to the bike and the motor was that much newer, a best of 55mpg was achieved, but I doubt if it will ever repeat that. Oil consumption is also high, about a pint every 200 miles, which is a bit naff given how often it's changed.
Other consumables are reasonable given its mass - 7500 miles for a new set of pads all round, tyres in 6 to 8000 miles and a fairly cheap chain every 10,000 miles. The latter could do more but only at the expense of mucking up the gearchange, which was never what could be called smooth and precise even when the bike first came into my hands, or, indeed, when it first shipped out of the showroom. Anyone who has ever owned an old Honda will know the experience only too well.
It hasn't needed any internal attention, though, which is more than can be said for the chassis. Bits that have been replaced include the fuel tank (rusted through), seat (fell apart), calipers (several times as they corrode up) and all the electrics. A malfunctioning rectifier sent pure AC voltages through the wiring which tried to turn the bike into a blaze big enough to ruin my leather jacket, which was used to smother the flames.
This gave me the excuse I'd been looking for to do a respray of the frame, which by then was more rust than black paint. The bike was easy to pull apart, although three were needed to lift the motor in and out. I also welded in some extra steel sheet around the headstock and swinging arm mounts, the latter had always had a very slight hinged-in-the-middle feel.
I was surprised at how much I missed riding the CB over the two weeks it was off the road. By the time it was ready I was nearly jumping with joy. Strange how these bikes can get to you. I was disappointed to find that all my efforts with the welding torch made absolutely no difference to how the Honda handled!
Perhaps what I like most about the CB, despite its handling peculiarities (which can mostly be adapted to), is that it's one of those bikes that will do anything and go anywhere, short of something silly like trail riding. As my only machine it has to be hustled back and forth every day to work - even in the depths of winter the motor purrs into life (sensitive to choke position, though). Riding on ice covered roads proved especially traumatic, as the Honda is not one of those bikes endowed with a great amount of feedback from the tyres. The first you know about a tyre sliding away is the machine scraping along the tarmac.
I had quite a few accidents in winter until my riding became very cautious and my reflexes quickened up. No serious damage to either bike or myself, but I did fall clear of the Honda, having that massive brute land on top of myself would probably be terminal. I never came off at serious speed, helped by the disc brakes, which when they were not corroded up, performed heroically, producing such short stopping distances that many a blind cager was able to give thanks to their efficiency - after he had got over the amount of verbal abuse I showered upon his shaking form.
The bike is slightly too wide to sneak through the narrower gaps in heavy traffic, so I've taken to giving the cagers a blast on the air-horns, which usually has them swerving out of our path. Some lout occasionally goes into a rant about such treatment, poking his head out of the cage window to scream abuse at me, but by then he's usually eating my exhaust fumes, so no great problem.
I did try some high and wide bars, to aid chuckability in town, but found that they tended to scrape off car mirrors. The first time it happened, a loud detonation made me think that something had snapped off the Honda, it was only the car driver furiously trying to catch up with us that made me wise to what had happened. I dropped a couple of gears, nearly had the front wheel off the ground (wheelies are not really possible) and was out of there in a hurry in a frenzy of vibes and acceleration. One up to the biking fraternity, but I did change my route to work just to make sure he wasn't loitering with intent.
That happened quite recently, which shows there is still a bit of go in the old girl. Hard to say how much longer the motor will last, the vibes and oil consumption would suggest not very long but the quietness of the motor offers some hope that she might make it around the clock.
It will soon have an easier life as my second bike, I've bought a dead CBX750 and a good motor from a breaker. Once this bolide is on the road the older Honda will be a weekend plaything, a nostalgic trip to my misspent teenage years (god, I sound old at 21!). I shall be interested to experience the contrasts between these two Hondas.
Brian
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The dealer handed me the keys with a smile whilst the mechanic wheeled the big red and white beast of a 900 down the ramp. Sitting in a corner of the workshop was my old CB650, ignored now as I turned to my new bike. The secondhand F2 was immaculate and came complete with a full fairing, covering the front end of the bike deliciously with its gentle curves, the four cylinder DOHC engine thrusting out either side.
It started first time with a roar that quickly died to a civilised rumble, the well tuned motor ticking over bang on 1000rpm. Carefully straddling the machine and knocking it into first, I rode away. And so began an intimate love affair that was to last for over a year until it was stolen.
Compared to my 650, the first thing I noticed was that it was understandably harder to ride. The extra weight - bringing it to about 550lbs - made cornering a bit more cumbersome but I soon got the hang of it. In fact, the excellent oil damped forks and solid steering head meant that the bike went around corners as if it were on rails.
Even the engine, 901cc of pure muscle, helped with the handling - it brought the power on smoothly and cleanly, no vicious lurching or snatching when coming out of a bend, the bike pulling itself upright without any fuss. In some respects this made the machine very predictable, but it also made it very secure.
The engine was a standard Honda design, steming from the 750F and still sharing the same chassis. In contrast to its little brother the engine was nearly the same width, the extra capacity resulting in a taller engine. The head was a sixteen valve job driven by double cams worked through two hyvo chains, one to the main drive in the engine and the other across the two cams. When properly adjusted the engine could rev well into the red before valve bounce suggested it was necessary to back off.
Looking back on it, it was just another well engineered Jap bike boasting nothing out of the ordinary; but that didn't stop me riding it with pride. It gave the grunt when I needed it, never complaining or arguing, the rideability being there all the way.
I remember the time I took the bike out for a blast on a Sunday morning a few weeks after I bought it. It was mid July, the sun out early and the mist burning off the roads. The bike fired up with a quick push of the starter, the choke barely on. A faint sheen of early morning dew filmed the black seat, I felt the throb of the engine as it purred like a tame tiger beneath me.
A push of a foot and it was in gear, the smooth clutch letting the engine connect to the back wheel with effortless ease. I could have ignored the throttle, there was enough grunt to pull away at tickover even up hill.
Gliding away from my house I cautiously transversed the road out of Gateshead, only too aware that when cold the oil supply to the top end takes a few minutes - this is what wrecks a bike's engine, thrashing before it has a chance to warm up. Cruising off the A69 I joined the A1M, a favourite haunt of mine, a long road of smooth tarmac curving out towards the south, only stopping when it hit London 300 miles away, give or take a few roundabouts.
The bike felt so smooth I find it hard to describe, the mirrors mounted on the fairing showing a perfect picture of the road behind. I had been riding for about five minutes, the motor's syrupy hum soothing my senses. Checking the road ahead and behind for traffic I slowed to about 5mph in the middle lane, alone on one of the greatest roads in England, alone apart from the odd bird singing in the birth of a new day. Pulling in the clutch I gave the behemoth an experimental rev, the counter swinging to four grand like a sex starved bull in sight of a ready cow. My throat dry, I decided that the time was right.
My right hand twisted the throttle to eight grand, the howl from the twin exhausts deafening. I dropped the clutch. The rear wheel screamed, snaking in a cloud of smoke before biting. My body wrenched backwards, the front wheel lifting up demonically, the fairing rising like a tidal wave before me. I fought to keep the front wheel down and the animal straight, the speedo hitting fifty before I changed up, rising through the gears as the rev counter redlined.
The bike screamed up to a 120mph, my head ducking behind the fairing's screen. Here it was still air, the only noise that of the engine not a foot away from my ears. The road was a grey blur sweeping past my feet, a fear locked smiled baring my teeth.
The engine still had more life left in it, but my courage didn't. I only trusted the Avons it came with so far; used to Pirellis and their glue like holding. The bends on the A1M are long and gentle but not at these speeds. Leaning into the bends was easy, the bike taking to them like a traffic warden to a double parked Roller. I did find the slight wallow worrying, however, the rear wheel also drifted, making the line of the curve very wide.
Before I knew what was happening I saw the Darlington turn off, slowing down enough to take the slip road up and over the motorway to head back home. I cruised back at a steady 70mph, the bike crooning like a sated lover under me. Sitting up for the first time at any appreciable speed, I noticed the wind. That the bike was designed in Japan was unmistakable. The top of the windshield must have been made for a race slightly smaller than the average Brit, my lid buffeted from side to side in the wind blast. Of all the complaints engenedered by my mechanical companion this was the worst. I suppose I should be thankful that this is the gravest problem I can throw at the machine.
Not one to waste a journey, I used the trip home to fix the handling of the bike. Flat out it was hard to notice anything other than the need to hold on tight, but slower all the faults became more apparent. The first thing I decided to deal with was the wallow. Pulling in to the hard shoulder I stopped and removed the seat to get at the tool kit. A quick twist of the C-spanner had the shocks up two turns. Back on the road the ride was harder but more secure, the evidence of the wallow gone. Even the drift seemed cured, though I shied off from the earlier reckless excess of speed. The Avons gave a good account of themselves, holding steady in the bends.
Over the months of use to follow I developed a high regard for the machine's abilities. Not least of which was the way it refused to throw me off even in the most extreme circumstances. I was taking the usual route to work one midweek morning, weaving past the queues of stationary traffic that blocked the city's roads, finding a stretch of clear road between some traffic lights. I slowed as I approached because they were red, but they changed as I got closer. Naturally, I speeded up and as I went past the lights a huge Granada estate slewed across the junction, its ugly shape making my heart stop.
Instinctively, I grabbed handfuls of brake, my foot stamping in unison on the rear brake pedal as well. The front end dipped viciously and the rear locked up. The bike twisted under me, the rear wheel dragging the machine sideways as if I was a speedway rider. Without a second thought I let off the back brake, the bike snapping straight as if nothing had happened. The Granada passed inches from my front wheel, the driver not even looking at me as he sped away....I think I needed to drain the sump in my underpants!
The entire thing happened so quickly I didn't even have time to swear, let alone sound the horn. I had stalled in the middle of the road, my heart beating like a steam hammer. Shaking my head, I tapped down from third to first and shot off, knowing that I should have expected as much from the experience years of riding gives you, but you always have to watch out for complacency.
Apart from such occasional incidents, my time with the CB900F2 Supersport (seriously, that's what it's called) was relatively uneventful. The dealer services were few and far between, the sturdy engine only needing to visit the doctor for a checkup once every six months or 3500 miles for routine valve clearance checks, etc. I complained once that the camchain was noisy, the dealer saying there was nothing they could do without stripping the engine down but that I shouldn't worry as it was normal. What? The camchain tensioner seizes up and that's normal? What a load of crap!
So, I used a trick I developed on my CB650 for just such a problem and it seemed to work reasonably well - sod the dealer. I decided to do my own services from then on. I went out that day and bought the right manuals for it, checking to see if I would need any special tools and such like.....but the next morning it was gone.
David O'Neil
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I acquired my CB750KZ from the breakers. It looked like quite a simple job to repair and I hoped to ride it for a year or so and then sell it at a mild profit. The most obvious faults were twisted forks, bent front Comstar, wrecked clocks and dented petrol tank. The breaker was (was being the operative word) a mate so my inspection of the machine was less thorough than it should have been.
Back in my luxury garage, er, living room, the full extent of my foolish behaviour was revealed. The front end came off easily enough, then the tank. Revealed were bent frame tubes around the headstock and indented exhaust tubes. Before I tore the engine out I tried to get it to turn over by rotating the back wheel. It was stuck in gear and no amount of force would make the back wheel turn. To cut a long horror story short, the reason the bike had crashed was because the engine had seized.
The frame, forks and wheel were dumped into a nearby specialist who in exchange for a £120 straightened everything out. Meanwhile, I was working on the engine. The cylinder head had two studs seized which snapped off rather than come undone. Just as well I had a helicoil kit! The head came off, the valvegear looking in good shape. The pistons were all there and apart from a bit of carbon build up looked as good as new. The cylinder was tyre-levered off and there were no signs of seizure.
Strange, but the crank would still not rotate. I had just dismantled a perfect top end for no good reason! I turned the engine over and split the crankcases. This time three bolts snapped off! Oh my god, look at the gearbox. One cog was stripped bare of teeth, which had stuck between the teeth of the other gears. I hate gearboxes and now I had to take this one apart. The cause of the break up was a shot gearbox sprocket bearing that had allowed the shafts to rotate out of line. The result of a too tight chain?
You don't see very many KZs on the road, they never sold in vast quantities. You see even less in the breakers and finding one, despite phoning around all the breakers in MCN, proved impossible. When I enquired of my local Honda dealer of the cost of a new set of cogs, shafts and bearings he rubbed his hands together, gave me a wide grin and doubtless thought about booking a winter Holiday in the Algrave on the back of the profit he was going to make.
I looked at the box again and it seemed to me that I could get away with just one new cog and bearing. The bearing I got from a bearing factor at a third of Honda's quote and paid up for just a new cog, much to the dealer's disgust. A pattern gasket set was purchased by mail order and I was ready to waste another weekend reassembling the motor.
When the box was back together there seemed a bit of a backlash between the gears and I told myself to take it easy on the changes. It all went together easily enough, my only real problem getting those four sets of piston rings back into the cylinder. Talk about needing four pairs of hands.
Reassembly of the motor coincided with delivery of my straightened chassis components. I decided to leave touching up the cosmetics and removing the dents from the petrol tank until I was sure that the motor would run. It proved possible to repair the instruments with Superglue and I replaced the cracked glass by cutting up an old visor to suit.
Much heaving and humping, swearing and cursing, saw the lump back together. I had to buy a new wheel spacer as that had disappeared. Much whirring of the motor ensued until it eventually coughed into life and settled down to a lumpish tickover. Out through the back door, down the garden and out into the lane. It felt bloody awful. The motor spitting back out of the exhaust, the bars shaking in my hands and the front brake refusing to work, the lever came all the way back to the bars.
Back home, I bled the brake lines, reassembled the exhaust system with some goo on the joints and inflated the front tyre from 15 to 30psi. Right, you bugger, now start behaving. And it sort of did, up to 50mph anyway. The engine ran cleanly, it steered as well as my Jawa 350 and now braked with enough force to fling the rider over the bars. However, there was a disturbing whine from the gearbox and it crunched rather than snicked into gear.
Second and third were particularly noisy and the transmission felt very jerky at lower revs. Beyond 50mph the engine misfired and I had to slip the clutch and rev the balls off it to get through the flat spot. Could the large dents in the downpipes be upsetting carburation? There was only one way to find out. The only way to fix the downpipes was to cut out the damaged area and reweld some new tubing in place. It looked a right mess when I'd finished but carburation had, indeed, improved.
A new 4-1 was bought at the motorcycle show for £80. It was cheap because it was of the baffleless type and strictly speaking illegal to sell. This went on with only a few hammer blows and I then spent a weekend trying to set the carbs up to suit. I failed and had to hand the bike over to a dealer. £75 poorer, the exhaust turned out not to be such a bargain.
Apart from the noise, performance was transformed. It would now rev straight up to 10,000rpm without a moments hesitation and the acceleration threw one young lady right off the back. I howled around town giving aged citizens heart attacks and police officers a reason for their jobs. It sounded especially good on the overrun. More importantly, I could no longer hear the gearbox whine. Come to think of it, I probably wouldn't hear a Jumbo jet if it passed a foot above my head.
Encouraged, I finished off the cosmetics, including knocking out the worst of the tank's bumps and then filled in the remaining ones. A complete respray in candy red improved the appearance no end. Polished up it looked the business. Pity it wasn't that good to ride fast. It would get 130mph on the clock without too much of a contortion act but it weaved and wallowed, generally feeling as if it had flat tyres or a few loose bolts. I checked everything but could find nothing wrong. Either something was not straightened accurately or it does that from new.
A ride on my friend's immaculate CB750K1 convinced me that the older Honda fours were really bad handlers and I had to rush home for a new set of undies. I decided that my model wasn't so bad after all. The engine got no attention and required none over the 15000 miles I did in the year I had it. The bike had 12500 miles on the clock when I bought it and a new set of Roadrunners that were still there when I sold it.
The chains only lasted for 3000 miles - something seriously wrong with the transmission, obviously - although I did not have to change the sprockets.
Once it was rebuilt I got some good use out of the Honda but my awareness of the frailty of the gearbox meant I did not trust it on long journeys, which, given its massive weight and girth, is what it would have been most suited for. Everyone thought it was rather strange than I used the CB around town and the Jawa to go on holiday!
I managed to make about a hundred notes on the bike when I sold it, as low mileage fours of this vintage were very rare - I had about 20 phone calls! That £100 profit is after every penny, save fuel, that I spent on the bike, so I had a year's riding for nothing and a lot of fun into the bargain. I went and bought a CBR600 off another breaker but looked at that one very carefully before I parted with my money this time!
I was more relieved than sad to get shot of the Honda - it looked fine, sounded great, had arm wrenching acceleration but there was no way I could ride it fast on anything other than a motorway. Not my idea of fun.
Terry Smithson
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In 1990 I'd bought a 1982 Honda CB900 a week before I was due to go off on a month's holiday, which I'd decided would be riding all the way around the coast of the UK. The plan had been do to it on a CX500, but some kind fool had pinched the far from reliable example that normally loitered in my front garden. So came a bargain priced CB900 with just 14000 miles on its clock from a mild eight years of life in the hands of one aged gent who'd obviously never gone wild with his right hand.
That theory was a bit slighted by the state of the engine oil, but there were none of the rattles of a hard used example and the gearbox impressed in its precision. And, I liked the looks of the big DOHC four cylinder engine and the mildly integrated bodywork, looking more like a giant Superdream than anything else. With 550lbs and 95 horses, giant was the right way of looking at things.
I don't like travelling in a pack, so the voyage was a solo trek, a bit of a test of my endurance and a prelude to going even greater distances on the Continent. The first 500 miles revealed a voracious thirst for both oil and petrol, at 100mpp and 30mpg! The oil turned out to be due to a leaking gearchange shaft seal, the only immediate solution, albeit a costly one, was to keep filling up the sump. The fuel was down to my immature need to imitate Captain Fantastic by playing tunes on the throttle in second and third.
After the CX, the 900 appeared to have stunning, body churning acceleration, especially beyond 7000 revs. Non-standard bars that were not far off ape-hangers aided the ease with which the front wheel went airborne but obviously made the bike uncomfortable as a high speed cruiser. Frequent stops, like every 30 minutes, if more than 75mph was maintained for any length of time. Not helped any by the seat which had been flattened by the previous owner's fourteen stone.
Despite all that, I found the CB900 a largely enjoyable bike to ride. It has its own distinct character, miles away from some of the bland replicas. It's one of those motors that shrug, vibrate and growl away, as well as having a pretty stunning power delivery. By the time I'd done 8000 miles in a month, the bike and I had become old, steadfast friends.
The chassis had received all the normal mods, with an alloy swinging arm, Koni shocks, fork brace and a set of Phantom tyres that had to be replaced halfway through the trip. Their wear rate was as astonishing as the amount of grip they afforded. Thus equipped the only thing to let the bike down was the light front end, mostly as a result of the non-standard bars. That meant big wobbles exiting fast, bumpy bends and a lot of head shaking if more than 100mph was put on the clock.
With so much mass the wide bars made town manoeuvrability passable and didn't lead to excessive fatigue when swooping through country lanes. However, the bars limited top speed to a pathetic 115mph, so they had to go in favour of a narrow, flat set that I just happened to have in the garage (off, I think, an RS250). First, though, I put in a new gearchange shaft seal, which needed a chisel taken to the engine to extract, it's just as well the damage is covered by the engine cases.
Equipped with flat bars, town riding was heavy going. By then the chain was on its last legs, making the gearbox feel like it was full of marbles, which did nothing to help with the ease with which I could swing through gaps between cars. At low speeds it's all too obvious that there is too much mass, too high up - I thought the CX was awkwardly top heavy but the 900 was in a class of its own.
Greasy city roads gave the tyres, as good as they were, a hard time. I was close to blind panic on a couple of occasions when the back wheel tried to swing right around. I wasn't going to try speedway techniques on such a big brute and putting my foot down would've just broken my ankle. Backing off the power and twitching the bike upright seemed the best way out of trouble.
The flat bars did wonders for high speed stability, although it would still shake its head on bumpy exits. Top speed, with my head in the clocks, was 135mph. This couldn't be held for very long as the engine was buzzing away like a chainsaw and the chassis was waltzing all over the road. Sick bucket time. I could just about maintain 120mph for half an hour, but fuel was down to a laughable 20mpg and the tyres were red hot.
The rest of 1990 was commuting to work and the odd weekend or evening blast. As winter tried to close down the country, I became less and less enamoured with the motorcycle experience. The CB reacted by producing an excess of corrosion and when that didn't stop me riding the bike it threw me off on a patch of ice. I suppose most bikes would've done the same, but the sheer speed with which the Honda lost it, the horrible feeling of all that top heavy mass going out of control, made me think twice about keeping the machine. Damage to both of us was minimal as we'd ended up sliding down the road. The bars were bent so I put the old ones back on; it was becoming so cold that there was little hope of doing much by way of speed.
I was most impressed with the lack of maintenance that was required, but then I'd been used to old, high mileage hacks. Valves and carbs stayed in tune for more than 6000 miles, only the cheapo chain I'd fitted needed any frequent attention. It was this easy life that come the spring of 1991 made me decide to carry on with the CB, despite it now sporting 30,000 miles, which many reckon is when the motor starts to develop problems. The plan for 1991 was an ambitious 15000 miles around Europe in six weeks of free rolling!
Before that I'd fitted another set of bars, rear-sets and a comfortable seat. Tailoring a bike to one's personal needs is one of the unsung joys of riding old motorcycles. Getting to Europe proved almost as traumatic as the tour, down to so much bad weather that one of the motorcycles came adrift in the ferry, crashing into the CB. I was left with a nasty dent in the petrol tank and a bunch of seamen who rather than coming to our aid spent half an hour hurling abuse at us for not securing the bikes properly! Some elderly Beemer owner was almost in tears as we pulled off the bikes to reveal the sad state of his boxer.
The tour was a wonderful experience apart from the time the clock hit 42000 miles and the camchain started to rattle so badly it drowned out the rotted exhaust. This happened in Italy and it took a lot of effort and £250 to persuade the nearest Honda dealer to do the job in less than a day. Their first idea was that I should leave the bike with them for a couple of weeks on the off-chance that they might just be able to fit it in!
Apart from that little horror, what stands out from that trip was doing 125mph for an hour on the autobahn, nearly falling off the edge of the Alps too many times (the Honda showed its age and mass) and having a race with a bunch of French maniacs on deserted, twisty roads that were marvellously wide and smooth (and therefore ideal for the lumbering Honda). My camping antics were also worthy of note, the tent with me in it almost flying off the side of a Swiss mountain on one occasion.
By the time we were back in Blighty the clock was reading nearly 50,000 miles. There was a bit of smoke out of the exhaust, some funny noises from the valves and enough vibes above 8000 revs to dissuade me from doing more than the ton. Before I could look into this the swinging arm bearings went, causing vicious wobbles at as little as 30mph. It was a chisel and hammer job to knock the old spindle out, it really needed replacing but I filled the pits with Araldite and smoothed them down with emery cloth. Even with a new set of bearings the CB never recovered its poise, becoming wild at more than 80mph. Probably some other bearings on the way out, as the tyres were newish - down to 1mm they too could cause chassis horrors.
The rest of the chassis was in reasonable nick, except for the silencers which needed patching every other week. The calipers had surprised me by refusing to seize (pads lasted 12000 miles), the brakes always having tons of power if not an excess of feedback in the wet. I did polish the old girl every week but even the alloy corrosion cleaned up easily.
By the time 54000 miles were on the clock I'd decided that it would have to go to a new home. I'd bought it so cheaply that even in its worn state I had a pretty good chance of getting my money back. I'd placed the advert in MCN, given the bike a massive polishing session and was all set for seeing the back of it, when the CB showed it wouldn't let me ease it out of my life so gracefully.
I was taking it for a quick blast through town, enjoying a burst of acceleration in third when the motor seized solid. Before I could grab the clutch we'd skidded off the road. It was the most painful accident of my life, a huge swathe of skin torn off. Just shows you can't win them all.
Mike
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Aaaarrrrrgggghhhhh! I came out of the house to find my 1980 Honda CB900 missing. The remnants of my shackle lock were on the ground. Suddenly, the area was filled with the bellow of the Alpha 4-1. Then silence. I ran down the road towards the sound, swerved around the corner. Saw two youths fiddling with my pride and joy. Screamed my head off at them, waving the largest bit of the shackle lock above my head, charging towards the bastards with murder in my heart.
They threw the CB on to the road as if it was red hot and ran off as if the hounds of hell were after them. Coming abreast of the Honda, watching it bounce on the crashbars, I was tempted to ignore its plight and catch the thieves but couldn't bear to see the bike in such a state.
As I pulled the beast upright, I thanked god for the finicky nature of the engine, which needed much fiddling with the choke and throttle when cold. The Alpha exhaust was matched to filterless carbs, high compression ratio pistons and race camshafts. The engine didn't start to run properly before 5000rpm, really taking off at 7000 revs before I chickened out at ten grand; it would run harder but the secondary vibes persuaded me it would not last long thus abused. From cold, as the thieves found out, it was dead easy to stall the recalcitrant motor.
I'd only had it a week at that point. A week in which I'd been variously thrilled and frightened in equal measure. After a rat Superdream it seemed incredibly fast, outrageously heavy and braked with an on/off action that had me knocking my balls on the tank every other time I tried to lose speed in a hurry. Which was pretty often as it seemed to put 60mph on the clock within the blink of an eye and the ton came up so easily it made a complete mockery of the speed limits.
Within that first week I'd taken the ten year old machine on a top speed run. 140mph on the nearest motorway! 140mph on a naked machine is a hell of an achievement, as testified by the way my helmet strap tried to cut through my jugular vein even though I was lying flat on the long if narrow petrol tank.
I didn't hold the speed for more than an instant because the whole shebang was threatening to roll off the road. The CB already had beefed up forks and aftermarket shocks, as well as an alloy swinging arm and fat Metzeler tyres, so god knows what it would've been like on stock components.
Saner speeds were okay, anything up to 100mph it was stable enough if heavy going as there was 500lbs to throw through the bends. So it took me a good six months to come to grips with the Honda. In that time I had loads of near misses that were mostly caused by the rapid acceleration from the tuned motor. It was fast enough to burn off a GPZ900 up to the ton, when the newer bike would begin to power off but only, I thought, because its plastic made it much more aerodynamic.
I scared the GPZ rider silly several times by overtaking him in fast bends, the CB bouncing all over the place. If the front tyre hit a bump coming out of the bend, then the bars would go crazy in my hands, throbbing from lock to lock until I backed off on the throttle, which in turn started the back wheel off.
Put it another way, a friend who normally rode a Z1, considered by many to be a rolling death-trap, had a go on the Honda and came back full of fear at its antics in some fast and bumpy bends, although on smooth roads there was little cause for concern as long as it was set up for the bend, rather like a BMW boxer.
So after six moths I was used to the nasty beast and could keep up with most devices on most roads. No sooner had I settled into this high speed life than the engine started to rattle. The camchain blues. The DOHC engine is rather complex despite only having eight valves and aircooling, so I handed the bike over to the local Honda dealer who quoted £85 and then gave me a bill for £295! I took the bike for a test ride and never went back there so it was the cheapest rebuild in the history of the world.
A week later some yob in a Volvo tried to knock me off the road. I glanced over to see the bloated face of the enraged dealer. I scooted off down the road, the fear inspired use of the throttle and clutch getting us up on the back wheel. This is the most dangerous thing in the world, even to someone who's used to its idiosyncrasies.
I strained forward and knocked off the throttle a notch, sufficient to have the forks on their stops and us knocking along the side of a car. I could still see the Volvo in the mirrors, so hustled off through an unlikely gap, swerving off down a series of side streets until the blaring horns were but a far distant echo.
It seemed like a good time to leave town. London beckoned, with a job in a printers and a friend's floor to sleep on. M1 madness got me in the mood for the city's craziness and I had great fun racing with the DR's and taxi drivers. I could throw the 900 around like a Superdream by then and with its excess of power it took a particular combination of madness and true grit to burn me off. A DR850 got the better of me but little else came close.
I wasn't doing much maintenance to the Honda, just changing the oil every time the gearbox became full of false neutrals. With 29000 miles on the clock it seemed to thrive on such abuse. I fell in with a gang of hoodlums on big fours, who took absolutely no notice of the speed limits or the cops. Anyone who tried to pull us over was dealt with by opening up the throttle. I'd never lived so dangerously in my life but I was young enough to take the craziness.
It took six months and 7000 miles of maximum revs and throttle excess before the engine began to complain. Before that I'd had some down-pipes crack up, a numberplate fall off and complete electrical failure with everything from the alternator up burning out. Bits from helpful if expensive breakers kept her running.
After an hour long motorway blast at 130mph, the engine started knocking like a pile-driver. Vibes threatened to split the whole machine asunder. I was towed the 30 miles home behind an XS1100. Complete and utter madness. We both had our noses in the beer trough for the rest of the night before the shaking went away. Still, we scared the shit out of a couple of cagers.
A couple of mates came around to help with strip. Three of us had trouble lifting the motor out and it slipped out of our hands on to the foot of one. He howled for a good hour but had the last laugh when it was revealed that the crankshaft's bearings were all shot. The gearbox looked like it had been attacked by a maniac and there were bits missing out of the cams. Dead meat!
It's taken ages to find a good motor out of the breakers but I've just paid 400 notes for a 20,000 miler so hope to be back on the road by the time you read this.
Andy Higgins
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The first of the DOHC Honda 750 fours has never received a good press, with tales of engine blow-ups, suicidal handling and general poor longevity. But money talks, and an immaculate, 10,000 mile example for £750 was too hard to resist. I doubt if there's a cheaper way of getting hold of an 130mph machine in good nick. The owner was young but obviously intelligent, who threw in the workshop manual and the advice that I should change the oil every 1000 miles, making sure I used good quality 10/40.
Immediate impressions were of power (the previous bike was a GSX250....), secondary vibes above 5000 revs and heavy if solid handling. I'm sure that pedestrians would've glanced admiringly at the CB had not the 4-1 exhaust let loose a gruesome howl. Arriving home, the ancient crone who lived next door immediately rushed outside and started screaming at me. She'd been horrified by my leather jacket, the excess of friends who turned up at unlikely hours and the suspicion that I was debauching her grand-daughter (which I and my mates were but she wasn't complaining). The noise was the final straw, which had her hopping up and down, threatening all kinds of horrors (one of her sons was a cop.....). I gave her my nicest smile, as usual, but otherwise ignored her.
The next day I went for a long, stimulating ride. At over 500lbs in mass, and with flat, narrow bars, the Honda was a bit pig-like in the tighter corners. The exhaust would grind away on the left side, sending shudders through the chassis and increasing the rate at which my hair was going white. Despite that, the Honda wasn’t wrenched off the ground by the undercarriage wrecking the council's fine efforts at road repairing.
I really had to summon up all my nerve and energy to swing her through the tighter series of bends at a speed greater than a restricted 125 - I soon found that all kinds of youths would take up the challenge of showing up the CB's aged design and peculiar steering geometry.
On any bit of straight, the throttle could be wound on hard in most gears, with a resulting howl and butt loosening burst of acceleration. I'm sure quite a few guys thought their end was nigh when the bouncing and buckling Honda warped past them, blowing away hearing aids and setting off alarms. One good point was that above 5000 revs so much vibration afflicted the mirrors that I had no idea what kind of carnage I left behind.
The buzzing mirrors, that would even occasionally twirl loose, made it very difficult to ascertain if the white vehicles behind belonged to the plod. On that first hard ride, twice I'd slowed down to most moderate velocities to let what I thought was a jam-sandwich pass, but which turned out to be a mere civilian. Angered I roared past them not needing the horn to show my angst.
The cops don't need much excuse to pull bikers over and the exhaust had them leaping up and down several times. You have to hand it to British cops, they are almost alone in the world in not looking like they take bribes; in most countries you can smell the greed on their bodies. I was a bit surprised, then, to have one guy lean out of his window at the traffic lights, suggesting that I hand over fifty quid, but they roared off when I muttered something about having to go to the cash-point to raise that kind of dosh. Whenever I suspected that there were any cops around, I clanged into top and rode at 1500 revs.
That left the exhaust moderately rather than violently noisy, the four cylinder mill able to chug away like an old British single. At least until some acceleration was needed, whacking open the throttle resulting in the chain trying to disengage from the sprockets and the engine trying to cut out. No, a drop down through the gearbox was definitely needed, which was at its worst on downchanges, a fifty-fifty chance of ending up in a false neutral. Changing up through the box was a delight, generally, with a missed change only likely to occur between first and second when I wasn't paying full attention.
That usually happened after a couple of hours in the saddle, my arms and hands growing tired of all the effort involved in hurtling the machine about. The controls initially felt light but it's surprising how heavy the throttle and clutch can become after a few hundred miles. On motorways I longed for a cruise control, especially as the saddle, which looked either new or if it had been re-upholstered, proved supremely comfortable, aided, no doubt, by the sensible riding position.
Secondary vibes also turned the ride unruly, the bike smoother at 90mph than 70 to 80mph, which invariably meant I rode illegally whenever possible. All the cagers seemed to suffer from a similar problem so I never stuck out from the maddening crowd. Quite why the engine should buzz so heavily that engine bolts came loose and cycle parts bounced down the road, is hard to fathom as later experiences with newer fours were much smoother.
Any fear that the motor might be on the way out was unfounded because it ran and ran without any failures in 45000 miles with just the 1000 mile service and the odd filter swap. I narrowly avoided being strung up when the exhaust rotted through, even at tickover the noise caused dogs to go berserk, dustbin lids to leap up and down in accompaniment, and a run on headache tablets. Great fun was had running on the open downpipes for a while until a used Motad was found for twenty quid. This wasn't meant for a CB750K but was persuaded on with the aid of a large tyre iron and made me the most popular guy in the neighbourhood, as it let loose a mild bellow in comparison.
Other cycle parts proved good, needing no more than a weekly polish to maintain an as new state. Recently, I had a little trouble with the fuel supply clogging up, debris in the tank a sign that it was rusting from the inside out but there were no particularly weak spots in the metal, so it'll last for a few years with regular clean outs.
The bike and I have grown into each others ways, as one tends to do after a few years with the same machine. New spongier grips, subtly altered riding position and a taller final drive set of sprockets, all combined to give the Honda a much more assured feel, well able to cruise at the ton all day long. I've given up going any faster than that, though - whether because the Honda feels like it wants to throw me off or merely because I've become old and sensible, is an open question into which I don't delve too deeply.
CB750K's are still quite common on the road, I even know of one fearsome device with a CB900 motor shoehorned in, though it would make more sense to fit the later and better CBX750 mill. It's possible to buy a nice one for around a grand, though I've seen them advertised for twice that. Buying a rat for £400 to £500 is another alternative, but when the engine finally goes it does so in a big way - main bearings, primary drive and bores, as well as burnt out valves and even the occasional cracked cylinder head.
More than many an aged bike, cosmetic condition gives a strong clue to the internal strength of the motor, those that haven't received a weekly dose of tender loving care go off quickly and it's a good bet that such beasts haven't had their oil changed frequently. The handling's the worst point, the engine the best, backed up by a reasonable frugality on the consumables and fuel for such a heavy and fast bike.
K.N.M.
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I wanted speed but had sod all dosh. An all too common refrain. Don't laugh, but I was getting my kicks on a cafe racer CB750K2 - until more than 20 years of abuse broke the crankshaft at 145000 miles. Nothing much of the venerable four cylinder engine was left. The chassis was so basically unsuited to 130mph kicks that I decided it wasn't worth doing an engine transplant. I sold off what I could and held the rest in reserve for that happy day in the future when OHC Honda's are venerated just like Vincents.
Various bikes were explored and tested with a view to purchase. My ideal machine would've been a Dresda framed CB750, not least because it dumps over a 100lbs and it actually goes around corners. No chance of buying one of those cheaply. After a few desperate months on the spare bike - a hack CB400N with bellowing exhaust - up turns a Honda CB1100R. What the f..k's that? Turn to the UMG, no mention! Must be rare then. Turns out to be an early try at a race replica with a beefed up 1100cc engine that churns out well over a 100 horses - even with 45000 miles on the clock and signs of obvious deep abuse. The best thing about the bike was the £995 price, which I managed to knock down to £700 after the clutch played up.
The reason the clutch played up was because I'm a lazy bastard. Once out of sight of the vendor, I'd done a spectacular wheelie which had made the clutch sound like a gun going bang. A few more of those meant slip was the order of the day. An easy way of testing a bike out! It was only the engine overheating a touch, nothing to worry my pretty little head over but a good bargaining point. As the owner was in plaster from falling off his CBR400, he was in no position to complain!
On closer examination, I wasn't sure which bike he'd fallen off. The back Comstar wheel had a couple of minor dents, a large lump of exhaust filler fell out of the 4-1 where it'd been knocked in and the plastic was heavily patched in places. None of this had any effect on the handling until at least 125mph was up. The back end would shimmy all over the shop and the bars would twitch a little - in other words a relative ball compared to the old, goatlike, CB750, whose speed wobbles were like having a serious upper body work-out thrown in for free.
It was just as well that I had bulging arm muscles because the CB1100's one heavy old darling that needs a firm grip and steroid inspired shrug to get through the bends when using the power to the full. This is one hell of a ride come 7000 revs when the power pours in hard enough to cause blackouts and tarmac gets eaten up so fast it's dead easy to end up in a hedge or a ditch on the trickier circuits...er, back roads.
Using all of the throttle and getting through the hard to engage ratios rapidly (after a 145000 mile old CB750, any relatively modern bike has an easy gearbox, believe me!), pushes the bike up to some highly illegal speeds. You probably won't believe me, but 160mph is within its remit. So call it 150mph if we want to be truthful, it's still damn fast and fantastic fun.
Ridden thus I soon found out that it was horrendously expensive to run. 20 to 25mpg and less than 3000 miles to wear out the tyres, chain and pads. I could get the rear rubber down to the carcass in less than 20 minutes if I wanted to play silly burn-out games! The pads wore out so fast because I was always zooming up to corners far too rapidly; at least the brakes were both responsive and aggressive, saved me from the tarmac rash many a time.
The engine's one of those early aircooled DOHC designs that caused so much angst amongst the speed tribes of CB900 owners. But Honda put some decent engineering into the 1100 as it was meant more or less as a track device for road use. The screws that held on the major engine covers looked like they had never been touched; the only element that gave any indication of mortality was the clutch, which could overheat, slip and rattle.
That apart, I was encouraged to rev the motor to the limit whenever conditions allowed. Secondary vibes attacked the tank and seat to a severe degree come 8000 revs, though the bars were uncannily smooth. Going into the red, the fairing vibrated merrily, though it was undoubtedly weaker than when it came out of the mould.
Comfort was limited by the stretch over the long petrol tank to the bars, which positioned my body wrongly on the poorly shaped and rather thin (by wear or by design, I know not) saddle - 50 miles or less would have me squirming around in agony, though if I got through the 100 mile mark my body then became inured to the discomfort for the next couple of hundred miles. Strange but true.
Having suffered a number of old, highly modded Japanese fours I can say without doubt that the CB1100R's the best bike I've ever owned. It didn't stand a chance against something new like a CBR600 in the bends but it had the legs on it in terms of power, and a couple of times I got it all together, even whipped into shape those kids on the replicas. For someone working their way up the motorcycle game it's an excellent training ground.
For 6000 miles I was wandering around sporting an ill-concealed grin and boring anyone who would listen with tales of high speed insanity. The first sign that all was not well was reluctant starting, having to resort to a bump start several times. With over 500lbs of meat and three dragging discs this wasn't my idea of fun. I thought about giving the engine a full service, then copped out on the excuse that I didn't have a manual.
A few days later I noted an absence of 7000rpm kicks. Coming home from work I tried to force the engine up to 10,000 revs in second gear, when the mill locked up with a crunching noise. I was left stranded in a sea of annoyed cagers. Clutch in, I managed to drag her into the gutter. The engine started again after 15 minutes of cooling but knocked all the way home. I hoped it was the clutch bearings. I was half right. They were shagged but so were the main bearings! In fact, the whole motor was dead on arrival.
Terry Stuart
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The bike sparkled like diamonds in the early morning sun. The exhaust snorted like a dragster coming out of the gate. Lady luck had smiled upon me for once. Bliss! A fine motorcycle and a beautiful day. The calm of the morning was further disturbed by the clang of first gear going home. The first time it happened I thought the gearbox had broken. Now, it had become reassuring! She who must be holed in one threw a stocking clad leg over the pillion...damn, that bit was fantasy. The only girl I ever got on the pillion wobbled off at the first junction and did a runner. Don't know why, she refused to speak to me again! Yet more tarmac to burn.
The CB900 wasn't exactly the cumulation of Honda's work on the four cylinder genre. But it was a fast old cruncher in its day. Could still turn a rapid wheel. It was really down to the rider's inclination and bravery. I had plenty of skirmishes with death in the early months of ownership. The CB900 owes an awful lot to the original CB750K. Shares with it the same top heavy, excessive mass. Mixed in was a massive flood of power that pushed the chassis to the limit. Dead easy to end up all over the place; a fool looking for a body-bag!
The first three months were something of a learning experience. These days, the bike and I have merged into an efficient killing machine. Replicas are my prime target. Something like a CBR600 is supposedly in all ways superior. It just so happens that the 900 has an incredible punch between 70 and 120mph in fifth gear. It's then just a matter of keeping the bike on the road!
The chassis is helped along by heavy-duty Koni shocks, stiffened up front forks with the obligatory brace, and a set of sticky Metz tyres. This all gives the bike a nice taut, glued to the road feel. Limitations include the amount of muscle needed to throw it from side to side, and ground clearance hassles from the sheer, excessive, width of the engine.
The best way to grind the Honda through the bends is to lean off whilst keeping the bike as upright as possible. Combined with some desperate cut and thrust it's possible to frighten the replicas into submission. Along the lines of making them wonder what the hell's going down, as the shadow of the lumbering monster descends. It all comes down to the rider's skill and guts. If the replica pilot's better or the same as me, then I would be burnt off. But most of the time I come out ahead, if swamped with adrenaline!
The engine has standard carbs, airfilter and exhaust, but the silencers are degutted and the jetting upped to suit. Four into one's usually put a flat spot around 5000rpm so it's better to stick with the stock stuff with the above mod's. In fact, all the silencers will be well rotted by now, so no need to actually degut them. If bigger main jets aren't fitted, acceleration above 7000 revs goes a bit hesitant. With these mod's I can put 145mph on the clock and do some fearsome standing starts.
I don't have any trouble staying with the 600's up to 120mph. Thereafter, acceleration's limited by the fact that the bike's naked, although the riding position's as good as a BMW. It's easy enough to lean against the wind force, cruising at up to 100mph no great problem for me. It does give you forearm muscles like Popeye, though. As a keen tennis player this is quite helpful.
EBC pads, Goodridge hose and a newish set of discs have sorted out the front brake - it started to go very soggy at 30,000 miles and lost a lot of its power. Now with 55000 miles up, the discs are starting to go thin and are in need of replacement. Unfortunately, there aren't any good ones in breakers, so I'll just have to hope that they don't break up on me!
The bike's best suited to sunny days, when both the machine and I seem to revel in the glorious weather and performance. Wet weather isn't much fun. Sometimes the engine will cut down to three, or even two, cylinders. Dangerous stuff on greasy roads. Worse still, even when the motor's running okay, the way it can viciously lay down the power can have the back wheel hopping off the road.
On the other hand, below five grand there is some torque, not difficult to potter around on a whiff of throttle. Which improves the fuel from an high speed average of 35mpg to 60mpg! Below two grand the drive-line lash can become pretty awful. Best to fit a new chain and sprocket set every 6000 miles. Leave it longer, the bike won't want to run below 3000 revs. I had one chain snap at 10,000 miles! Made a hell of a mess of the back of the engine and could've taken my leg out. Modern O-ring chains don't need frequent adjustment, worth the investment.
Tyres could, similarly, last for 10,000 miles before the carcass began to show! However, the handling turns naff after 5000 miles. On worn rubber the bike white-lines, skips and hops, and wheelspins prodigiously. What was a gradual loosening of grip at extreme angles of lean becomes a wild, sudden, disappearance of traction. In other words, a quick way of falling off.
All these things add up to quite high running costs, but no worse than the hot 600's. The major difference's the purchase cost. I bought my one owner, 13000 miler, for £775 some five years ago. The old chap had lovingly run the bike in and kept it beautifully polished, like it was the joy of his life. You don't often come across this kind of fool.
The upshot of such an easy early life, plus my own regular 2000 mile oil and maintenance sessions, is that the engine hasn't yet been stripped down at 55000 miles. Judging by some accounts this is a major achievement for a CB900 - tales of exploding cranks, breaking camchains and dropping valves abound. It just shows that a bit of tender loving care goes a long way.
I have recently noticed an increase in vibration. The bike was always a bit of a tingler in the bars and pegs. Nothing that you couldn't get used to. Lately, it's started to thrum quite violently at 9000rpm, mostly through the petrol tank which I always grip tightly with my knees. It may just be the tank going thin. Internal rusting means I have to clean the tap out every 500 miles. Or maybe the engine's due for a rebuild. Not to worry, I've got a spare motor!
Buying an old CB900's a bit of a gamble. A good chassis is immediately evident from the precision and stability. A good engine's a lot harder to suss, and the majority of them have had, or need, major surgery. Something fast and furious can be found for around a grand, with plenty of life left in it. The same money can buy a dog on its last legs.
Doug Pearson
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