Buying a Bike in Japan

It was a cold day at the end of February when the urge to buy another bike finally struck. My heart had been broken many times before by bikes that were too difficult to live with for one reason or another - anemic thumpers, uncomfortable race replicas, unreliable Italian bikes. In fact, I’d given up on my last motorcycle - a Moto Guzzi Targa - several years ago when it left me running for the train one time too many, but by now I had come full circle again. Tokyo commuter trains can be a challenge even for someone used to them, and the idea of riding in to work again had become an obsession. I needed a bike to break the tension, but one that I would not fall in love with, one that would not break my heart by getting nicked or making me give up on it in frustration. One that would reliably take me to and from work during the week, but still be fun to ride on weekends.

As I went round to the shop, it soon became apparent that the bike industry, here as elsewhere no doubt, has hit upon hard times. Motorcycles are not selling like they did in years past. Even Ueno Bike Town was quiet; the last time I had visited in the late 80’s you couldn’t get a salesman to talk to you unless you waved a wad of cash in his face and then held up your registration papers for him to see - I suppose it also helps that I’ve learned to speak Japanese. But unlike some places where store clerks get surly and rude when the economy gets bad, Japanese bike shop owners are friendlier than ever now and seem to be doing the best they can. Spreading unhappiness is not going to win any customers even if they are only talking to some punter, and a foreigner at that, not sure if he is ready or not to spend his hard earned dosh, perhaps foolishly, on another dubious used bike.

The smaller independent shops seem to have it the hardest. One not too far from where I live had a 1994 Suzuki Goose advertised for 265,000 yen out the door - taxes, inspection mandatory insurance, etc. included. It was a bike I’ve always wanted since reading Alan Cathcart’s review of it, so I had to check it out. A vastly underrated and under appreciated bike of the '90s, it failed in the market place here because it had a 350cc engine where the licensing system allows riders without a big bike license to ride a 400cc bike; most want the extra 50cc's. It struggled along in Suzuki's line up for almost a decade, not a race rep and not a standard, and then finally died when the big scooter craze started a few years ago. A fine looking bike - apparently a copy of the Gilera Saturno - it would make a good commuter and a fun weekend toy. I had test ridden one at another shop, the owner more than happy to let me take a bike out for a spin with hardly a word of sales talk. I fell in love with it immediately. Not nearly as quick or comfortable as the Honda CB 400 SF-V that I rode the other week, but the reach to the clip on bars and paper-thin seat made me feel right at home. And there was such a pleasant sound and feel from that 350cc thumper engine. The Honda, by contrast, felt like it had an electric motor in it and had an exhaust note reminiscent, as one American mag once put it, of an angry vacuum cleaner.

So, the voice on the phone was pretty unfriendly - do you still have the bike? Yeah, it’s still here. How much all together? About 26 bills. And before I could say, be in tomorrow to have a look, he hung up. Well, what did I have to lose? The shop was a little hole in the wall that had seen its better days more than a decade ago, run not by salesmen, but mechanics and bike enthusiasts. The bloke working on a Kawasaki yelled back to his partner, "ah I knew it was a foreigner on the phone. Hey, Toshi. Gaijin (foreigner) here wants to look at the Goose." Toshi dug the bike out of the storage shed next to the shop and eventually got it to start. While I was looking it over, we had a rather long chat about all sorts of things - bikes, Japanese bikes and the bike business. Said every year things get worse and it's just a matter of time before they give up. I left with the idea of going back the next day to buy the bike, but then thought again: it was like my whole history with motorcycles rolled into one machine and I’m sure it would somehow break my heart. No, I want the Honda after all

Indeed, the CB400SF seemed to fit the bill perfectly: an anonymous mount with good ole Honda reliability. I knew exactly what I’d be getting - a bike that was very easy to ride, had plenty of power for town work especially in Japan and enough to keep me amused in the hills. It looked like every other Japanese standard bike and sounded like a household appliance. How could I ever fall in love with something so bland? That decided it. Now, all I had to do was watch the used bike ads and wait for one to come along with a price that I couldn’t argue with.

I didn’t have to wait long - Japan is awash right now with used CB400SFs, a bike that has dominated the 400cc class here in Japan since its introduction in 1992 - and there are some real bargains out there. The cheapest, according to one of the used bike mags, was at a shop on my way home from work. The place would have been easy to miss; it didn’t look much like a motorcycle shop at all let alone one that was still in business. The storefront was a jumble that upon closer inspection turned out to be old motorcycle parts, some still in their faded boxes, riding gear like helmets and boots both in and out of their boxes, cans and cases of two stroke oil and a pile of used tires. A wooden box filled with an assortment of worn tools and dirty rags sat out front and next to that was an old drum of what might have been motor oil with a dirty boiler suit draped over the top. On the other side of the drum were the remains of several bikes: the frame and motor of an old VFR400R, an SR engine with terminal alloy corrosion next to what I think was an NSR motor, some unidentified rims, bent fork legs and what may have been the frame to go with the SR engine and yet another aluminum frame/swing arm that I imagine went with the NSR lump. And mixed in with all this here and there were empty drinks cans and tattered copies of old comic books. It would take courage to buy a bike from a shop like this, but the advert looked promising and I had no excuse not to buy at the price.

You had to climb over the clutter to enter the shop and inside there was more of the same. It looked as if an earthquake had struck and no one had bothered to clean up. Several bikes lay buried under the mess which included bits and pieces of fairing, and in the middle of it all the bike I was after - a 1992 Honda CB400 SF, which I couldn’t actually get close enough to inspect properly because of all the junk littering the floor. At the far end of the shop, an old woman sat sleeping in an armchair surrounded by even more junk. Positioned in front of the chair was an electric bar heater, and standing on either arm of the chair and with his back to me, an old man was reaching up to a ceiling outlet with the plug for the heater. The walls, what you could see of them, were covered with hand written signs and ancient posters of Japanese idols no one can remember advertising bikes and scooters best forgotten.

The old woman suddenly stirred and woke with a start: hey, we have a customer. Huh? The old man seemed not to believe her, but hurriedly finished his business with the outlet and climbed down from the chair to greet me with a toothless grin. A bike is it, which one you after? I pointed to the CB. Ah, great bike. A lot of dispatch riders use them and they go around the clock. This made me a bit suspicious indeed. The ad said the bike had 16,800km on it, which by Japanese standards is already a lot. You hardly see anything with much more than 20,000km on it up for sale - I assume they ship those off to places where safety inspections are more lax. Could I have a closer look? Not much to see, is there? You just find a bike you want and at a price you can afford and that’s all there is to it, no? He had me there. Besides at the price, 94,000 yen, what could there be to complain about? After all, it did just recently pass the official safety inspection, didn’t it? Fine, when can I pick it up? Next week, thank you.

Unfortunately, I was in no condition to ride the next week having badly twisted my ankle while playing football with the company club - no, none of us are Bundesliga players; it was just an after hours social event. So, the nice shop man carted the bike to my doorstep on the back of a light truck. He parked it on the street for me and wished me a speedy recovery, stop by when you are up and riding. I left the bike there not caring at all if it were there when I was ready to ride or not - a promising sign. As it turns out, I didn’t ride it until weeks later even after I was able to walk properly again; I still had a month left on my train pass and wanted to get my money’s worth.

So, the bike stood outside in the rain waiting. When I did finally take it for a spin one weekend, reconnoitering my planned route into the city and to work, the engine started up without complaint. The front brakes, I soon discovered, were full of surprises - sometimes they stopped you, sometimes they didn’t. Umm. That will eventually have to be taken care of, but in the meantime the rear brake along with the front will stop me just fine. I also finally got around to really looking at what I had purchased. Hmm, more rust and alloy corrosion than I expected, and the rubber hoses look like they are about to go, too. You get what you pay for after all. And what’s this funny clicking sound and notchy feel coming from the clutch when the handlebar’s turned? Aha. Cable routed wrong. Surprised these tires passed inspection, too. Oh well. Maybe it’ll all last until the next inspection in another year and a half; by then I may be ready to give it away and buy another train pass anyway.

Well, commuting by bike in Tokyo has turned out to be more pleasant than taking the train unless you really do enjoy the rush hour scrum. Early morning commutes, any time before 7:00 by which time the cages take to the road, are quite easy and relatively drama free-sorry, no hair raising tales of close calls with death. It’s only about 15 minutes faster than the train provided you leave before 7:30, but more fun. Afternoons can be more difficult if you are impatient. Here’s where I lose the 15 minutes I made in the morning and then some. Well, better to be sitting on a bike stuck in traffic than standing on a crowded train, I guess. But I’ve found it best to leave the dispatch rider antics to those younger and more indestructible - I might lose some time that way, but I do have a family to get home to. Where most motorcyclists will split lanes with impunity, I find it best to play it safe and move along with traffic; only when all the cages have come to a complete stop at traffic lights do I feel comfortable riding up between them to the front of the line and even then keep a look out for taxi doors suddenly flying open to let a customer out in the middle of the street or some lost cage suddenly deciding to turn or change lanes. Still, they tend to be much more tolerant of bikes here than in other places and expect you to split lanes and take advantage of the motorcycle’s size and maneuverability. Work your way to the front of the line at the light, and then sprint ahead to the back of the line at the next light. Repeat.

And riding throughout the year is no problem in Tokyo. Summer is the worst because of the heat even if you are crazy enough to ride in shorts and a T-shirt, but winters are mild. Even with the snow we got this year the roads were perfectly ridable. And although most foreigners I know here complain about the rain, Japan’s climate is an improvement on English weather. The bike has gone through all of it with no worries - again, sorry, no stories of the bike defying the odds and putting up with miles and miles of abuse, limping along with the help of some backyard bodging.

Then again, I’ve only had the bike for over a year now. It’s been there for me everyday, never once failed to start, and here is where you might expect me to say that I’ve fallen in love with it. But I can honestly say that I have not. I’ve changed the oil once, as I haven’t even put 8,000km on the bike - hey, it’s only 16km to work one-way and I still sometimes take the train on days when I’m running late. I do take it out on weekends occasionally, but I’m content with a short blast into the hills of western Saitama before lunch on Sunday. And in the hills you realize just how easy it is to ride and that it really is a bike you can forget about. It simply disappears beneath you and you can enjoy swinging through the bends without thinking about the machine. I haven’t even bothered with the brakes, the wonky clutch or the tires. Have tightened the chain once, but I suspect it will need to be replaced along with the tires. It was already worn when I bought the bike and is reaching the end of its adjustment. If I do decide to keep it another two years can get all that taken care of at inspection time. Still, wonder if Toshi can find me another Suzuki Goose?

Josef Messerklinger