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A friend was buying a Honda CB250G5 (he was almost alright after the treatment) and was selling his Honda CB72. I couldn't part with the cash fast enough, sixty quid changed hands (this was when sixty quid was sixty quid) and he promised to deliver the bike the next weekend.
The bike's arrival was heralded by lots of exhaust noise. For some time we waited for the bike to appear at the bottom of our road. We waited a bit more, eventually the bike came into view, the rider and pillion paddling the tarmac like people trying to get up a hill on a bike with not a lot of clutch.
This was not surprising because they were on a bike with not a lot of clutch. Eventually, he drew level with the house and suggested that the clutch might need a little adjusting. Many phrases sprang to mind, mainly relating to questioning his intellect and/or parentage. These were stiffled in deference to his pillion, Jane. After they had gone my mate and I got down to the serious business of deciding I had been totally stitched up. This was not actually the case but I always feel I could have done better when I buy a bike.
The clutch slipped, the electric start didn't, the kickstart was running (well, flopping about) in a nylon bush, the fuel tap was leaking despite being covered with half a pound of Araldite, the black paint on the petrol tank and silver on the sidepanels rubbed off a bit too easily, the seat cover was ripped, an exhaust baffle was missing, the chain was shot and the bike needed a good bath. All in all, not too bad for a first look!
These early (1966) Hondas have rather quirky styling, a bit like an NSU of the time or an MZ of a few years ago. In fact, the Laverda 750 twin engine looks suspiciously like a grown up version of the CB72. I found out later that they are pretty solidly built with no comparison to a 1974 Honda CB360G5 I once had the misfortune to own. The petrol tank was a bit hump backed, with low flat bars and forward mounted footrests the riding position was a bit hump backed as well. The footrests were carried on neat alloy brackets which allowed a range of adjustment aided by adjustable brake and gear pedals.
There were twin leading shoe brakes front and back, an electric (non, in my case) starter and stainless steel silencers (where are they now, Honda?) with removable baffles. There were also some rather oddball items like the forward facing kickstart, awkward to use unless facing the wrong way, and the speedo and tacho both housed in a lozenge shaped unit working in opposite directions (the trick was to try to get the needles to meet in the middle). The four speed gearbox was spoilt by a quick wear rear set type linkage, the result imprecise changes. The engine could have used another ratio but you could chug along merrily enough at low revs. The yellow band on the rev counter starts at 9000 and ends at 12000rpm.
When the CB72 was introduced, it was a critical period for Honda, challenging the domination of the big British twins with machines half their size and making the British 250 singles look decidedly antiquated. Without doubt, the main plus point of the CB72 was its engine - an OHC vertical twin with the usual huge, four bearing crankshaft assembly, gear primary drive, twin carbs and a minimal need for frequent maintenance.
Perhaps, its only major failing, and one replicated year after year by the Japs, was sharing the engine and gearbox oil, a feature that demanded constant 800 mile oil changes and resulted in an inferior gearbox action to any number of British bikes. At the time, most pundits concluded that such a high revving engine would not last long, but they were mostly proved wrong by the relative absence of that real cause of mechanical mayhem, vertical twin vibes.
Clutch plates and starter clutch from the breakers and new air filters, chain and sprockets had me on the road. The handling did not inspire confidence, not helped by a square section rear Avon Deathmaster and almost worn out original front Bridgestone nylon job (with 3mm of tread left after 18000 miles it made up in longevity what it lacked in grip). The tyres allied with rear non-absorbers and front forks full of paraffin had me on my earhole several times early on. After one ride across a wet and greasy London (we called it London in those days) during which I came off three times I decided that perhaps some work was needed.
Despite what the UMG says about the handling, I think the actual frame is fairly rigid, with oil in the front forks and some Girling shocks from a breakers out back, the whole plot felt fairly stable. The tubular frame dispenses with down tubes and uses the engine as a stressed member - if you stuck some modern cycle parts on it, it could pass for a fairly up to date bit of design work.
With a bit of effort, footrest one side and centrestand the other, could be scraped sufficiently to amuse onolookers. The CB72 frame is not the same as the C72, the CB utilising more tubes where the C has mere steel pressings. Because the engine is used as a stressed member I had an unusual problem. For some time, the bike would pull to one side when accelerating and pull to the other when braking.
We eventually (we, because I needed a bit of help) traced the problem to loose engine bolts allowing the motor to twist and pull the rear wheel off line. The frame and suspension had been seen to, so it was time to replace the tyres - TT100s were whacked on the rims with the aid of tyre levers and a dustbin. These tyres were still on when the bike was sold and they had lots of life left, so tyre wear would be 10,000 plus miles, the rear wearing faster of course.
Handling was good enough to scrape things, as I said, and on fast bends there was no wandering or weaving (you know what I mean, all you 360 owners). White lines, tarmac joints, etc made the bike wriggle a bit but nothing frightening. The bike wasn't flickable, surprisingly as it wasn't heavy, you had to use a bit of force to throw it into bends (as opposed to throwing it down the road). It may have been the narrow bars, but body movement was required.
Average use would normally see between 60 and 70mpg, gentle touring would achieve as much as 80mpg but the fact that the bike displaced only 250cc meant it needed lots of revs for most of the time. The CB77, a 305cc version of the same bike, has more torque and fuel economy is pretty much the same.
I managed to get hold of an official workshop manual for the bike from a helpful dealer. The manual was useful although it was sprinkled with some rather quaint translations. Terms like leaning of the body threequarters forward, and my favourite, beware of the nutting, caused a bit of head scratching. The manual claimed that at a constant 24.8mph with the body leaning threequarters forwards the bike should do 124mpg!
Needless to say, I never found out if this was true. Top speed wasn't quoted in the manual but nose on the tank speed testing produced an indicated 98mph, maybe 90mph in real mph. Power drops off dramatically after 12000rpm. To get rapid movement you need 5000 plus revs, but the bike will chug around at lower revs happily, if rather slugishly.
In all, I think I put about 10,000 miles on the bike and it never broke down on me, but I did do a fair amount of maintenance, changing oil, cleaning oil filters, adjusting timing, tappets and camchain every other week. Most jobs were easy enough but investment in an impact driver and after that an allen screw set was well worth the money. Also, a decent ring spanner, in my case a flat hunk of iron with the correct size hole in it, is needed to get the tappet covers off. Previous owners appeared to have use a cold chisel and big hammer.
Faults I did encounter were two starter clutches breaking on me, and I didn't use the electric foot most of the time. Easy enough to cure with the correct puller for the alternator rotor. Also the kickstart shaft had ruined its bearing and been repaired by the previous owner with a plastic bodge that failed quickly but the phosphor bronze bearing I knocked in seemed to do the job.
Just before I sold the bike, the engine and gearbox were dismantled. All that was replaced were the piston rings and a selector fork in the gearbox. The lot was put back together with instant gasket and polished up. The tank and sidepanels were resprayed black - I hope it made the new owner very happy for his £165. I was looking for bigger things, and I don't mean female wrestlers, buying a Suzuki T500R that was larger and faster.
Nowadays, of course, the CB72 and 77 are collectors bikes but mine was reliable, fast enough and had a build quality much better than bikes from the seventies and early eighties. I think with these early Japs part of the quality was a certain style and I would have one again if they were still sixty quid.
Ian Smith
Return to Contents for Sixties Hondas
1965. The sixteenth year of my life when I'd somehow put the cash together to buy a six month old Honda C200. This was a 87cc OHV single, looking vaguely similar to the later C50. The chassis was similar to a late sixties Honda CD175 with leading link forks similar to the C50. This mixture weighed in at only 125lbs and developed eight horses.
This is all ancient history but what makes this particular C200 interesting is that I am still riding it. It has been used by various family members over the years but ended up back in my hands in desperate need of a rebore. Mileage has now reached 62000!
The early days were great fun. The first bike and all that. Top speed was only 60mph, after thrashing through the four speed gearbox. Such speed, on what was intended as a mild commuter, was accompanied by a chassis that had no damping and would often turn into a giant pogo-stick. Its minimal mass meant it could be thrown back on to its line.
The SLS brakes didn't help, the front could fade away to nothing. It was okay for town riding but youthful exuberance meant I ran the Honda off the road a couple of times. Bent footrests and scarred handlebars were the usual result. The Honda proved itself very tough in both these and later encounters with the tarmac.
The first rain showed up the tyres as diabolical. They slid all over the road, the 2.5 inch width on 17 inch wheels not in the least bit reassuring. They were junked the next day. Tyre wear is so minimal I've never really worked it out, probably over 20,000 miles.
Despite its low top speed it'd buzz along tirelessly at 50mph, with the ability to hold that speed in fourth even up slight inclines. At the time I didn't take much notice of economy, but the ability to return over 100mpg when thrashed is, these days, impressive. More than 150mpg is possible when riding mildly around town, which puts into question the way modern motorcycles have developed. These days I usually get 125 to 130mpg, with a tank that takes nearly two gallons that equates to a range of over 200 miles!
The seat is quite comfortable enough for that kind of the mileage in a day but the lack of speed becomes a bit mind-numbing. The seat was recovered some time in the late seventies as it started falling apart and soaking up water. The riding position is a bit upright and someone on the tall side so completely dominates the C200 that it looks like a toy-bike. The upright stance doesn't matter because of the lack of speed.
I tried a few mods to the engine, such as dumping the airfilter and exhaust baffle but they just made more noise and lost the smooth delivery of power. The OHV unit could be revved to about 9000rpm but would tick over reliably at 1200rpm. Starting was by kickstart rather than electric boot, but it was pretty reliable. The only time I had any trouble was when the electrics played up or when the spark plug needed replacing.
The electrics have rotted somewhere along the line, most of it isn't original. It's a pretty basic alternator and coil ignition set-up with lights that don't give much illumination, a Lucas rectifier (it was in the garage looking forlorn) and various bits of wiring that have replaced the rotted originals.
After two and a half years of relentless abuse the Honda was handed down to my younger brother. He seemed even more reluctant than myself to do any regular maintenance. His courtship with the horrible Honda ended after only seven months when he thought it'd be fun to see what happens when a C200 is ridden into the side of a car. Back then, cars were rather more solid than they are today - the front wheel collapsed and my brother was thrown on top of the car, helmetless. He hasn't ridden a bike since.
I was enjoying myself on a CB77 by then, so the C200 was slung in the garage until a used wheel turned up. For the next couple of years its use was minimal but it always surprised me when it came to life first kick. It wasn't until the mid seventies that the bike was put to good use commuting to work. By then my taste for speed was much diminished so the way the Honda reliably plodded back and forth to work each day was fine by me. I couldn't conceive of a cheaper or quicker way of travelling in heavy traffic. The C200 was so light and easy running that it could scamper ahead of bigger bikes.
By the end of the seventies, with over 50,000 miles on the clock rust had attacked the back of the pressed steel frame and the massive front mudguard. The shock studs looked like they were about to pull out of the frame. My brother attacked the frame with his welding torch and an evil grin but he did a reasonable job of reinforcing it which is still there to this very day. I patched the guard with GRP and put some new bushes in the very sloppy trailing link front forks. The frame and guard were hand painted black to reasonable effect.
I'd acquired a C90 as my main commuter tool but was not too impressed with this OHC engine, fuel was only 90mpg and it wasn't any faster. The centrifugal clutch was a horrible affair, I much preferred the hand clutch on the C200, even if the gearbox was a bit nebulous by then. Still, I used the C90 in deference to the older bike's age. It wasn't until 1985 that the C200 was used in fury again, by my son who was then seventeen.
It didn't have much street cred but he seemed happy enough using it for going back and forth to work for a year until he bought a car. I did the maintenance myself but by the time he'd finished with it the exhaust was smoking heavily. Ordering a piston from the local Honda dealer was an interesting experience but it came after about a month. The rest of the motor was in good condition, which I thought pretty remarkable.
For the next seven years I've used the bike for commuting in the summer and even for the occasional weekend ride. For one year it was loaned to a cousin who was desperate for some commuting tackle. She had a lot of trouble with the gearbox but surprised everyone by passing the test first time and then buying a Honda CBR600! She even let me have a go, bloody fantastic machine but I reckon I'd kill myself if I was allowed by the wife to acquire such a motorcycle.
The C200 felt like a Raliegh Wisp when I went back to riding it for the first couple of days but I soon reverted to my sane and sensible style. It was rather like riding a bicycle, planning the path ahead so as not to lose too much momentum. Acceleration had become rather stately.
It's still a tremendously cheap bike to ride, the chain (fully enclosed), brake shoes and tyres all last over 20,000 miles. The oil's changed every 1000 miles, the points and valves done every 2000 to 3000 miles. Its build quality is tremendous, better than the C90 which seemed to be falling apart under me after 40,000 miles and expired with knocking main bearings at 44000 miles. There were a lot of bits that were salvageable for future use on the C200. The engines do look similar despite their different top ends but the engine mountings are different, so there's no chance of slipping in a modern engine.
The C200 obviously isn't the kind of bike that inspires highway madness. But it's a very worthy machine that shows how Honda managed to take over the motorcycle world. I knew loads of friends who were turned off motorcycling by their experiences with British bikes that fell apart under them. The C200 was - indeed, still is - as tough as they come.
Martin Crane
Return to Contents for Sixties Hondas
Buying a 1965 Honda in 1992 didn't seem like a very good idea. I'd always liked sixties Hondas, though, brought back my youth. This one had been stashed away for over ten years. The engine was reconditioned but refused to start. The clock read only 18000 miles. The tyres and rubbers were perished but the rest was reasonable.
I listed down all the bits I'd need to buy. Cables, chain, battery, tyres, etc. As soon as I saw the total I decided I'd be better off going to breakers for bits. The engine was the big question mark. Was there something major wrong? Or was it just a simple fault that the owner had missed. It still kicked over with plenty of compression. I reluctantly handed over a hundred quid, including delivery.
After putting in some new oil I made up some clutch and throttle cables. The Honda dealer had just looked at me as if I was mad. I attached the car battery. Kicking over the engine a few times there weren't any hopeful noises. Checking an engine this simple is a matter of sussing fuel and sparks. Out with the plugs, there was a whiff of petrol but no sparks. New plugs didn't help.
The points were the next port of call. Aha, all black and gummed up. Cleaned up the surfaces, set the gap and timing. A nice fat spark at the plugs. Carefully screwed the plugs back in. Knowing that it was dead easy to cross-thread them. Japanese alloy of this era really is crap!
The engine made some encouraging noises. Kick, kick, kick, kick......gasp, gasp, gasp, gasp......kick, kick, kick, kick.......and so on for most of the afternoon. I was sure she was going to fire up eventually. After losing about a stone in weight, the damn motor finally rattled into life. The top end sounded like a machine gun on full fire.
The next day I fitted a new battery. Set the valves and gave the camchain tensioner bolt a couple of turns. The bolt wobbled in its thread then shot out. That was all I needed. I found a slightly bigger (British thread) screw and force-fitted this into the cylinder casting. It carved out its slightly larger thread. I took it out, coated with Araldite and then screwed it back in as far as it would go. Left to set overnight. Whilst I dealt with fitting the used consumables I bought from the breaker.
The next day I was ready for the open road. The engine was reasonably quiet and surprisingly smooth. It was just a plain OHC twin, whose basic design persisted until the Superdreams arrived. A quick run around the block revealed no real horrors. The MOT followed. A cursory examination that took five minutes.
The engine was rev happy, the harder it was used the better it felt. Smoothness was much better than some modern twins. As was top speed, 80mph on the clock. The suspension was a bit weak. There was so little movement that the lack of damping didn't matter. A slight back end wallow was the worst that could be said for it. If I ignored the pounding my spine took over bumpy roads. It was one of those bikes that makes the rider feel part of the experience. I don't like remote machines. Like to know what the engine and tyres are doing. The Honda was good on this front.
The drum brakes were not quite up to maximum speed sorties. The front faded quite badly after a couple of hard stops. The back never had much power to begin with. I tended to limit my speed to no more than 70mph. Both brakes and suspension felt a lot happier. The riding position could take even greater speed for much longer.
After the first couple of weeks, when I started going on longer trips, an engine fault developed. The motor overheated then seized up. Left to cool for an hour it freed up again. Running with no apparent ill effects. I'd already checked that oil was getting through to the head by taking a tappet cover off. I suspected that the baffleless silencers had messed up the carburation. If I kept below 5000 revs there was no overheating. The carbs obviously needed larger main jets to make the motor run leaner.
That's the big problem with running 30 year old motorcycles. Getting spare parts for them is a major hassle. I ended up buying a set of pattern silencers instead. The old ones were rusting through so it seemed like a good investment. The engine was quieter, cleaner running but still did the same overheating trick. It seized three more times on the open road.
Then it started knocking. I was 25 miles from home when it happened, didn't belong to the AA. No choice but to ride home. I didn't make it. There was an almighty bang, then the machine ground to a halt. After an invigorating two mile push I was back home. One of the con-rods had snapped. Like most Hondas of this era, there is a centrifugal oil filter in one end of the crankshaft. This was full of gunge. There was sufficient supply of oil at low revs but the bypass valve didn't work. At high revs the engine suffered from oil starvation. Hence too much heat and eventually a broken con-rod. Whoever did the original reconditioning was a complete jerk not to check it.
The Honda's crankshaft can be rebuilt. I'd found another crank which had ruined its main bearings. Looked like it was twisted out of line, as well. Only cost ten quid in an autojumble. This supplied the con-rod for the rebuild. Its says a lot for the toughness of the twin that the main bearings were okay. The chap who did the job normally only rebuilt Triumphs. He was agog at the size and multitude of bearings in a mere 160cc twin. Shows where the old British companies went all wrong.
The engine had lost some of its smoothness. Maybe because I didn't pay too much attention to running it in. There was a distinct buzz that set in from 6000rpm that convinced me to take it easy on the throttle. I found that 400 to 500 mile services were necessary. If the engine oil wasn't changed the gearbox became full of false neutrals. It was never slick nor precise but a bit of thought with the left boot usually sufficed.
The electrics were 12 volt but not very good by modern standards. The front light had me peering over the bars, wondering where the road was going. Judging by the way cars cut me up, even in town, it wasn't much good for warning of my presence. Neither was the pathetic squeak from the horn. It was better to pull in the clutch and rev the motor. It's probably unfair to criticize a thirty year old bike like this, but it was so bad that I thought I was going to die several times. The lights improved miraculously when I wired in a direct earth lead to the battery. The same trick did nothing for the horn which eventually fell apart.
The chassis reacted to the winter weather by throwing off great chunks of chrome and paint. The mudguards had slowly been rusting on the underside. The front took the opportunity to disintegrate one of the few times I went on the motorway. The wheel locked up until the guard was completely demolished. I'd lurched out of the slow lane on to the hard shoulder. I was lucky not to have been thrown off.
After that little incident I checked over the chassis very carefully. As well as a rear guard waiting to go the same way one of the shock's studs was about to rust off. The guards were easy enough to replace with some universal alloy items. A so called friend with a welding torch proceeded to melt half the rear subframe rather than fix the rust problem. He reckoned that the whole structure was all but rusted through. And the best thing I could do was throw the whole motorcycle into the nearest skip or canal.
I wasn't too keen on this idea but had to admit that there seemed no easy way to fix the frame. What I needed was another chassis that would take the CB160's engine and running gear. It'd have to be cheap and a lot newer to avoid similar rust problems. Tape measure in hand I headed for the nearest breaker. The CB160's motor is only attached at the head and the rear, so I hoped it would be relatively easy to fit but I couldn't find anything remotely in line with the engine's dimensions. I sold off the remnants to an old Honda enthusiast for £250.
The CB160 was no doubt an excellent bike in its day, but now they are so worn that they are not really a viable means of transport.
Bernie Greene
Return to Contents for Sixties Hondas
At first I thought it was an old, ratty CD175. But I looked a little closer under the road grime. Turned out to be a 1968 125SS. The owner came back as I was peering at the machine. A young lad who explained that he had just passed his test and was moving on. Was I interested in buying the bike? £350 cash. He gave me his phone number, started the OHC twin first kick and roared off down the road. The engine sounded good and there was no smoke out of the exhaust. The clock read 23000 miles.
Back home I consulted the UMG - 15hp, 75mph, 70mpg and 250lbs, at least when new. The price seemed about right, too, but that didn't stop me phoning up to offer £250. We agreed on £300, and him riding over to my house to deliver the machine. A quick test ride revealed no immediate problems and the deal was done.
One reason for buying this machine was to persuade my son on to two wheels. He was seventeen, fed full of TV inspired fantasies about fast cars and looked askance at the Honda's old fashioned appearance. It took me a while to explain to him that in its day the Honda was a state of the art, sporting machine and would, even now, beat the balls off 12hp restricted learners. For myself, I was quite happy screaming around on the high revving little twin, revelling in the fight with gearbox and throttle. The gearchange had some quaint ideas about slickness, needed a firm foot and a week or so of learning. The power only came in way up the rev band and the gap between the four ratios was large. Nothing an experienced rider couldn't cope with.
I took the kid on the back a few times to get him used to the experience. The suspension probably wasn't stock as it was very firm and shrugged off our combined weight. The Honda went wide in corners, needing a lot of correcting but could be banked over so far that the stand dug in. The resulting lurches had the passenger in religious experience mode, judging by the way he hung on.
After several trips he was ready for a go on the controls on a deserted country road. It wasn't an impressive sight as he was lurching and wandering all over the place, mainly as he kept finding false neutrals. He finally found a gear and scooted off up the road flat out. A good job it was a long road as he took a while to sort himself out. He came back with a grimace rather than a grin. Oh well, it looked like I'd have the bike all to myself.
After the first month of thrashing I gave the bike a full service - oil, points, valves, plugs and tensioner. All straightforward but the points needed a bit of cleaning and one of the spark plugs nearly cross-threaded. Old Honda alloy is not the best in the world but tolerable if a little care is taken.
One annoying trait was that every time I filled up the petrol tank, half of it came seeping out of the cap. The solution was to cut up a bit of old inner-tube, making sure not to obscure the vent hole. This wore out after about a month and still allowed a slight amount of fuel to escape but it a was better than just having half the tank filled - fuel was 45 to 50mpg which didn't give much of a range.
As well as fuel spillage it would also often flow out of the carb bowl when the float needle stuck. I think this was caused by the inside of the tank corroding, sending grit into the system - only the reserve tap had a gauze filter (and consequently rarely worked). The red and grey bike was otherwise in good nick for a machine 25 years old - I've seen five year old CG125s that look much worse!
Vibration didn't seem much of a problem, only coming in hard when I sat there with the throttle to the stop in second or third gear. If I resisted the urge to change up, the whole bike started buzzing, even the petrol tank thrumming away between my legs. Ridden into the red in third, then knocked up to fourth, a long road would put as much as 80mph on the clock but more moderate revving through the gears only gave 70mph.
Despite having 15 horses, any number of restricted 125s would see it off up to 40mph when the Honda started to catch up, getting into its stride at 50mph, taking them at 55 to 60mph, and not letting them catch up again. This infuriated learners on modern machines. One such came up to me when I'd pulled over for a fag to tell me it wasn't half bad for a 175! His jaw dropped to his kneecaps when I pointed out the real capacity.
The Honda had a two stroke-like habit of oiling up a plug in town, then coughing along at sub-moped speeds until it cleared up. It may have been a bit of valve wear or an oil ring on the way out but it wasn't a chronic problem, happening about once a week. A new set of plugs every other month helped as did 500 mile services.
I let a friend use the bike for a weekend. He dominated the machine, being over six feet tall and twenty stone in mass. He came back quite happy with the experience, having thrashed the bike from Bristol up to Manchester and back. However, his mass had wrecked the kickstart mechanism - the lever wouldn't return to its original position. The spring was broken. A bit of wire kept it in the upright position and I had to perfect my first kick technique. The motor always needed the choke from cold and preferred a dead throttle until it rattled into life. Despite pathetic electrics, that made the SS dangerous at night, it usually came to life first time.
The bike was certainly comfortable and competent enough for running through traffic, even the clutch refused to drag, a common old Honda complaint. The SLS drum brakes were adequate stoppers in the dry and nicely sensitive in the wet; the shoes last for ages and there're no calipers to corrode. Unlike the CD175, though, there's only a minimal chainguard and the chain needed attention every 200 to 300 miles, despite a soaking in Linklyfe grease.
Overall feel of the 125SS was just a little nervous, especially in the wet on the Far Eastern tyres, but there was only 250lbs to control, a low seat height and not a hint of the top heavy feel found in, say, a Superdream. Potholes would shake the whole chassis but the oscillations were damped out as soon as the tarmac proper was regained. The bike felt better than a five year old Superdream I'd once owned but nowhere near as good as the TZR 125 I've recently acquired as a replacement.
The only real mechanical problem I had was a gearbox seal leaking oil. They are still available from bearing factors and can be knocked in without too much hassle. The seal quickly becomes covered in crud thrown off the chain, so it's a chronic problem on Hondas of this era.
In all, I did 6000 miles in seven months. Because it's faster than the 12hp learners I was able to sell it for £450, which meant I'd had all my riding for free. Lovely. I finally persuaded my son on to the TZR, he was much more impressed by its looks even if, in 12hp form, it's no faster than the Honda.
Garreth Dale
Return to Contents for Sixties Hondas
I've always wanted to own one of the fabled Honda Dreams. No, not one of those late seventies abortions but the original Dream of the sixties - the CB72 or 77. Later Honda twins, by comparison, were as gray as ashes. In 1990 the dream came true, some gent in Gloucestershire had done a complete renovation of a CB72, wanted a mere £1250 for the glowing 250cc's worth of prime vertical twin meat.
The test ride revealed a loose rear end. There was some lateral play at the swinging arm end, spacers missing from the bushes. I pondered that he may've left out some spacers in the engine, which might explain the less than pristine gearbox but the rest of the motor purred with an astonishing smoothness and had no trouble revving out in second and third gears. He acted hurt when I pointed out the state of the swinging arm bearings, something immediately obvious from the saddle, suggesting he hadn't gone far afield on the bike. Despite my misgivings I definitely wanted the bike and ended up handing over the full price as he wouldn't budge on the money side of things.
There are lots of different ways of starting out on a relationship with a bike. Falling off ten minutes into my ownership was not the best of them. Swinging the 350lbs of refurbished metal into a 20mph town bend, the bike just flopped down as the adhesive abilities of the tyres failed suddenly. It's always a shock to the system to find myself violently thrown through the air. On this occasion I landed on my knee and the bike scraped up a layer of tarmac.
After the pain went away I picked up the Honda, scowled at the damage to the paint, pegs and bars and then spent five minutes cursing until it fired up on the kickstart. The rest of the journey was done at 10mph, my body needing a good night's sleep before my courage returned. A change to Avon tyres and shims in the swinging arm made sure there was no repeat of that particular accident.
The CB72 did, though, appear to be very easy to fall off. Within the month I'd hit the side of a car and knocked down a dog. Each time I was flung painfully off the Honda whilst it exacted some carnage in revenge for my slow reactions. Was it jinxed or was I just stupid? God knows, all I can say is that it got better with experience.
The car had its side ripped off by the diligent front wheel which was buckled but still rideable if bars that shook like an earthquake was going down were ignored. The dog was almost cut in two, spent fifteen minutes wailing its head off before it finally died. A bit stomach churning that but at least it hadn't damaged the rebuilt front wheel.
The way the Honda shook off these crashes convinced me that it was a very tough machine. It certainly looked butch, with the large mass of alloy engine hung from a tubular backbone frame, the cylinders canted forward aggressively. Neat touches were adjustable footrests, BMW inspired riding position and a stainless steel aftermarket exhaust system. I could've done without the leaking petrol tank cap and gearchange lever that kept coming loose on its spine.
The first time the latter happened I thought I'd bought a lemon, been ripped off with a bike that had a naff gearbox, and rode along in third for five miles before I chanced to look down to see the merely loose lever. The torque was good enough to run down to about 15mph before the chain threatened to leap off the sprockets. Spirited road work needed a lot of revving because the gaps between gearbox ratios were large. The lever needed tightening down once a week to avoid a repetition.
The clock read 49000 miles, the rebuild done at 47000, the only sign of its advanced age being the need to do 500 mile services - carbs, tensioner, valves, points and oil. To ignore its needs was to end up with a very rough running motor than would refuse to go above 8000 revs. In fine fettle as much as 95mph could be put on the clock, with 80mph cruising sitting well within the capabilities of both the motor and chassis.
The suspension was, I was told, much modified, with a fine pair of Girling shocks and an equally stiff pair of springs in the refurbished front forks, whose action - smoothness and preciseness - wouldn't have disgraced a modern machine. Cornering was limited only by the willingness of the stands to dig in and an unsettling feeling from the tyres which would squirm under extreme abuse and play games with whitelines even under moderate use. Strange, because the same tyres on another bike performed magnificently, so probably down to some quirk of the CB72's steering geometry or weight distribution.
There was also an element of poor design in the final transmission, although to be fair to the old Jap primary transmission was through a set of gears whose precision of engineering would've sent the British motorcycle industry bankrupt if they ever had the wit to try to emulate it. Even when I bought a new chain it was a constant source of irritation, sometimes too loose, sometimes too tight; either way causing the gearchange to go very vague and amplify the low speed lurching until there was so much clutch slip involved that I could smell the plates burning to a cinder. They were probably pattern rubbish, as the new Honda plates I fitted made the clutch much more robust.
However, the engine would become quite hot after extended town riding, turning the gearbox wicked and causing the clutch to drag. As neutral became impossible to find I ended up stalling the CB at junctions as it would creep forward under the influence of the drag until I had to hit the brake. It would also bind up over night so that when first was engaged it did so with a milk bottle shattering detonation that stalled the mill dead.
Starting was always finicky with a touchy choke and need for newish spark plugs, taking a good ten minutes to warm up. Surprising were the lack of rattles and low tickover speed once the oil had a chance to warm up and circulate - as in all old Hondas, blipping the throttle of a cold engine would lead to written off camshaft bearings, as would neglecting the frequent oil changes.
On any bike almost thirty years old there are going to be lots of minor hassles but the CB72 was one of those machines that endeared itself the more it was ridden and unlike British relics of a similar era there were no worries about a disintegrating engine even when the throttle was heavily abused - its pure engineering quality shone through and it was easy to see how Honda was eventually going to take over the motorcycle world.
In a year I did 7000 miles, insufficient to dent the consumables but no reason to suspect, chain apart, that they were going to be anything other than long lived. Fuel ranged from 60 to 70mpg and oil neither burnt off nor leaked away. Overall performance was better than a 250 Superdream, as shown by the many times I burnt off such machines, a trick their riders singularly failed to appreciate. Cagers were equally outraged to be put in their place by such an aged machine, but there was little they could do about its whippet-like performance, especially in traffic where its overall narrowness and confidence inspiring TLS drum brake made for some real madness. Alas, money problems caused me to sell the CB, but I made sure it went to a good home; least I could do!
Jay Goodge
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