Copyright (c) umgweb.com 1998
In the local bike shop I saw a nine year old Honda CB550K3 for a grand. This may sound like a lot of dosh for a bike like that, but it was absolutely, totally immaculate. It had only done 2000 miles and was completely original. I didn't buy that one because I didn't have the money. The bike I bought had done 30,000 miles and looked like it had done ten times that. But the engine seemed sound and it was mine for £175.
At home everyone laughed at it. The following Saturday I made a start on turning the machine into something that wouldn't attract policemen like flies. As well as cycle part restoration, I ripped the cylinder head off, clean it up and reground the valves. A well timed parental grant contribution paid for a nice Motad four into one. It took four weeks to get the bike into a decent state and then refused to start for a while, running very rough until I realised the HT leads were the wrong way around.
It started immediately after this was corrected and I donned my helmet and leathers for a quick trip. I pottered through the town centre wobbling around, getting used to the bike, and eventually came to the open road. A queue of cars had been building up behind me as I had crawled through town, so not really knowing what to expect, I dropped it from third into second and opened the throttle. The engine screamed into life and with my arms just about dislocated I shot off into the distance leaving the line of car drivers wondering whether they ought to call an ambulance.
After that little escapade I learnt quickly what the bike could and couldn't do. I discovered when I went to buy some brake shoes for the back wheel that the wheel was from a Suzuki 750, so I had a wider tyre at the rear. It was quite stable everywhere at reasonable speeds and I regularly got the footpegs down on country lanes. I am very tall so had no trouble throwing the bike around. Fuel consumption was around 45mpg average, but it did vary a lot and I had 60mpg on a steady motorway run once.
Top speed was about 100mph, but I did find that the speedo was wildly out so I can't be sure. I fitted K & Ns and rejetted the carbs. The first time I went out on the bike I nearly deposited something distasteful in my boxer shorts when I was trying to impress a car full of young women. I was blipping the throttle like all good morons do and when the lights changed I slammed open the throttle before letting the clutch go. When it caught I was on the back wheel, accelerating up the High Street.
Another fun escapade that always makes an audience gasp was when I first went of the motorway. On the M6 I stopped at a service station. After a smoke and a microscopic cup of tea, I set off again. As I got on to the slip road I couldn't go onto the motorway as a bloody great big lorry was coming alongside. I accelerated in front of him, only just making it before the slip road ended. The lorry driver didn't like this. He put his foot down and came up next to me and then cut back in, giving me the choice of being crushed under his rather unfriendly looking wheels or swerving onto the hard shoulder.
I did not have to think twice about which option to take but I was absolutely very totally utterly cross. I went back in behind him and then overtook him, pausing alongside the cab to punch the door and swear profusely at the bastard. He just smiled and waved a middle finger nonchalently, I wished I'd had a hammer to put through the stupid sod's window.
Apart from little traumas like that, my life with the K3 was a very enjoyable one. I would go out for rides when it was freezing cold, just for the fun of it, much to the amusement of my neighbours who were convinced I needed my head examined. The feeling was pretty much mutual as they owned a chip shop and an XR3.
Women quite like it too, I used to accelerate like crazy so that they would be forced to hold on tight. Male passengers were not so much fun, they either ripped off the seat trim or bent the indicator stalks as there was no grab rail.
The end of an era came when it started to burn about a gallon of oil a week. I decided it needed a rebore, but was relieved to find that it was only the rings that were well gone. A new set, head gasket and some blue goo to stop the leaks and there was no more smoke from the exhaust or engine breather. I was well chuffed.
Then trouble struck, I noticed that the engine seemed to be getting a bit hot and I grew more and more worried as it slowly ground to a very hot and bothered halt. Fortunately, I had just about made it to my house by this time, but I had a really sick feeling in my stomach. Rocker cover removed revealed one melted camshaft, shot bearings, etc - Mr Instant Gasket had blocked one of the oil feeds to the head.
I found a bloke who was willing to sell me the whole top end off a CB550F engine for a measly sum, so in my spare time I set about rebuilding the little beast. I gave the valves in the new head a quick grind before reassembling it and within a few days I had the bike back together. I started it up and went out for a ride. A mile down the road the bike was overheating like crazy and I turned for home. The engine died quietly, so I pushed the thing home.
I checked that there was oil everywhere there should be. I checked the points, the timing, everything that I could think of. Feeling thoroughly pissed off I gave it to a bike shop and told them to fix it. They charged me a hundred notes but couldn't find the problem. I resolved to start from the barrels up and get the thing going if it killed me.
The bores, new rings and pistons were in fine shape, so no problem there. Then it occurred to me to check the valves. I poured a bit of petrol into each inlet and exhaust port and was amazed to find that it all ran straight out again around the valves. I had found the problem. The valves and seats were well pitted, so I reground them by hand. Having finally got it going I sold it before anything else happened.
All in all, despite all the bad luck I had with the bike I was sad to see it go. I had learnt a lot from it and when it had been going well I had enjoyed every mile we covered together. I would say as a first big bike it is ideal, not too much power, not too heavy and still quite cheap. Buy one as a hack and you won't be disappointed. The only worry is that some people are trying to flog ‘em as Jap classics at silly prices.
Ian Jones
Return to Contents for CB550/650's
I took a lot or ribbing when I bought my Honda CB650. My mates all rode highly modified seventies superbikes with fearsome exhausts and thunderous power. You know the kind of thing, hopped out CB750s, turbocharged Z1's and the odd GS750 with a race-spec engine. If all this seems a little strange in 1994, when there are an excess of nice retros available, well the old superbikes, once their chassis were modified, could be continually recycled and improved. There was just no need to buy something newer.
I had one of the first CB650s, a 1979 model with only one owner and 18000 miles. In many ways a dream buy as it had only cost £750 and was in very nice shape. With just 63 horses to overcome 450lbs the only problem was that the Honda was a bit lost amidst my friends who loved to wheelie and wheelspin themselves into oblivion. Acceleration could best be described as stately, even intense use of the throttle failed to provide much of a kick in the pants, although the engine took on a harder edge once 6500 revs were up.
Various so-called friends who reckoned themselves ace tuners offered all kinds of solutions to the paucity of performance but I settled for a used Motad 4-1 and K and N filter. These fitted without any undue hassle and didn't need any carb changes except for a bit of twirling of the pilot jets. It was an ideal moment to balance the carbs so a mate with vacuum gauges was summoned. The valves were all in perfect adjustment, there were only eight of them to check and just a single camshaft. The engine design harks back to Honda's second four, the CB500/4, which shared much engineering with the original CB750. The biggest difference is the wet sump on the smaller fours, although all the bits on the 650 share more with being an uprated 500 than a downgraded 750.
I immediately fell in love with the exhaust note, a muted throb below 7000 revs, thereafter a harsh wail. People sing the praises of twins and triples but I think the sound that a four makes on cam is the business. The motor was freer flowing, happier both to plod along at low revs and snarl all the way past ten grand. It still didn't have a hope against the other bikes but I was enjoying myself playing tunes on the engine, and that's what counts, ain't it?
The gearbox could've been better, though, there was a tendency to shoot straight past the gear required into a false neutral. By the time I'd located a working gear it was usually one or two ratios taller than I expected. A lot of the time I preferred to leave it in fourth, which would go down to 20mph and up to 90mph, a brilliantly useable range of power.
Top speed was 120mph, but it was accompanied by such secondary vibes that I was dissuaded from holding it for too long. Anything up to the ton, though, was permissible. However, the engine always had a revvy feel, even when cruising in top I was looking for another gear or two. When, after 4000 miles, the chain and sprockets were due for replacement, the chain needing 150 mile adjustments, I decided it was a good time to change the final drive ratios.
A gearbox sprocket one tooth bigger and a rear wheel sprocket four teeth smaller would give 15% taller gearing. I checked this out by taking off in second and third with the old gearing, encountering no problems. It's pretty pathetic really, that most modern bikes are geared to produce startling quarter mile times rather than for the benefit of the rider.
The whole feel of the Honda was changed radically. A deeper exhaust note and much more relaxed feel did not mean slower acceleration as it would take off in first and hit 50mph before needing to change up. The new chain had also smoothed out some of the nastiness of the gearbox, which was much less needed in town, rarely getting out of second.
100mph cruising was wonderfully relaxed, although top gear wasn't much use below 50mph. Obviously, the lower revving engine meant less wear and reduced levels of secondary vibration. Also, fuel went from a terrible 35 to 40mpg to over 50mpg. Out of interest, I cruised the bike for a couple of hours at 70 to 75mph, which was just tolerable in the slow lane, getting 62mpg for my pains. By no means exceptional, but tolerable for long distance cruising.
A lot has been written about how seventies muscle bikes handled, or rather how they don't. The CB650 was somewhere between the extreme of early seventies stuff and the implacable stability of later eighties bikes. Honda had gained sufficient knowledge of steering geometry and weight distribution not to produce a complete turkey. By the time the CB came into my hands, the suspension was worn out and some of the bearings were on the way out. The result was some quite large weaves but no nasty wobbles, which suggested the tubular frame was adequately tough and there was potential for massive improvement.
The CB wasn't a light bike to hurtle around and its overwhelming impression was of being rather vague. I often found the bike wandering off line by a foot or two when hurtling through bends. Knocking off the throttle sent it off on an even wider line, leaving me with the choice of twitching the bars as a prelude to a radical change of direction, or leaning over further which more often than not scraped the stand's prongs or footrests. After a while, I started going into corners slower but coming out faster.
I rode the bike in stock form for about 4500 miles. As I didn't fall off it couldn't have been that bad! The need to pass an MOT meant the sagging rear shocks had to go. The breaker came up with a set of Marzocchi shocks that were so stiff I thought they came off a tractor. They were totally mismatched to the soggy front forks. As the front calipers spent at least half their time seized and the front wheel and steering head bearings were pitted, when the breaker offered a front end off a 1993 CB750 that had been back-ended I did a trade-in with him. The forks went on with surprisingly little hassle.
The MOT was passed without any problems. The Honda felt racing taut with the new bits but it was a bit uncomfortable for long distance work, as my body was subjected to a continuous stream of minor road bumps through the suspension. Cornering was so improved, with a much more accurate feel, that I had to saw off the stands' prongs to avoid dancing on them.
The secure feel was even more emphasized when I replaced the worn out Dunlops with a brand new set of Metzelers. I could hurl the bike right over on the edge of the tyres and at a 100mph the plot was remarkably secure.
Top speed with the taller gearing was only 125mph, but the improved feeling of security meant that I could now stay with my mates' bikes in most curves and the reasonable comfort, taut suspension apart, from the flat bars and rear-sets I'd fitted meant that on long tours I could do several hundred miles before any pain set in.
A hard ridden and woefully neglected CB650 won't last very long, my friends kept telling me, based as it is on CB500 components, but I was doing a full service every 1000 miles and the taller gearing undoubtedly gave the engine a much easier life. In a year I did 20,000 miles, which put 38 thou on the clock without any problems. By the time it had done 40,000 miles, though, the camchain was rattling and there was some smoke on the overrun.
It was an engine out job, which required some strong muscles and a lot of fiddling with wires, carbs and cycle parts. Taking off the head I held my breath but could find nothing really wrong. Closer examination revealed that the exhaust valves needed a regrind, which didn't cost anything more than an afternoon's work, whilst over a hundred quid went west on a new camchain, tensioner and top end gaskets. It seemed like a good moment to stop the mild oil leak out of the head gasket. They are straightforward engines to work on but rather fiddly to reassemble.
The engine started up after about five minutes on the starter. It was lovely and quiet, rustling away like a new machine. Since then I've done another 14000 miles with no engine problems. The chassis wasn't so robust, with new swinging arm and rear wheel bearings as well as a lot of rust on the frame and cycle parts that was tedious to clean up as it kept coming back. Hard work rather than great expense sorted it.
There aren't too many CB650s on offer on the used market as they were never the most popular four. The best one I've seen was an 1984 job with only 5000 miles on the clock, but at £1500 it was too much for me. There are a few around at the £500 mark but judging by the engine rattles they need urgent attention. I've just bought a real rat for £200, but then it had done 69000 miles in the hands of more than half a dozen owners - the chassis needs a complete stripdown and the engine smokes so heavily that it must need a head job and rebore. I haven't decided if I'm going to restore it or just use it for spares. By the way, both CB500 and 550 engines can be fitted in the frame if the 650 isn't available.
The CB650 isn't the toughest or fastest four in its category but they are relatively cheap and straightforward enough to upgrade to something more useful than Honda had in mind when they made the old beast.
Larry Riley
Return to Contents for CB550/650's
My first ride on the '76 Honda CB550F was so bad that I was almost reduced to tears. It was so cold that every time I dropped the visor the air froze solid. My fingers had lost all feeling. The only reason that my feet hadn't gone the same way was that the engine was stuck in second. The vibes that blitzed the pegs was an exotic way of keeping my feet warm.
All things being equal, I could've probably survived but the engine was also cutting out. Power came in, went out, came back in a thoroughly unpredictable way. The back wheel hobbled around in response to the jerky power delivery. Patches of ice ridden over would have the chassis in near terminal shakes. I was as frozen as I was petrified.
At one point I was down to 10mph. The engine had cut out on to just one cylinder which whispered its reluctant beat like Tina Turner in a particularly intense moment. I had the throttle fully open when all three other cylinders suddenly came in. The back wheel squirmed and my frozen body threatened to crack in half. I started singing to myself, fearing that exposure would set in and I'd sink deep into sleep as I rode along. Wake up being put back together by indifferent surgeons.
That's what happens when you buy a bargain bike in January. £75 for a working if wrecked looking CB550 was too good a deal to turn down. I should have paid a bit more out and got someone to cart us home. The house was more than a welcome sight as we finally made the outskirts of Brum. The Honda stopped dead as soon as we came to a halt, with a clunk that sounded expensive.
After several days of recovery I was ready to attack the bike in earnest. It was too cold to ride even if I'd wanted to. The living room was the warmest in the house and using irrefutable logic therefore the ideal place to see what was what. The gearbox troubles turned out to be nothing more than worn splines on the gearchange shaft. It'd do one or two changes when the securing nut was tightened up with spanner breaking force, but thereafter refuse to work. I hammered some nails into the spines with the lever on loose then tightened up. It worked!
Encouraged, I waded into the notoriously fickle ignition system. Someone had, sensibly, already fitted electronic ignition. The HT leads and caps were heavy duty, rubberised. The coils were the only other source of malaise but they shined with newness. The only other thing I could think of was the engine cut-out switch. I couldn't be bothered to pull it apart but tore its wiring out of the system - there was always the chance that a bit of insulation had worn out.
A quick blast around the housing estate revealed that everything worked as well as could be expected from a 48000 mile motorcycle that wasn't even on the pace when it was new. I was congratulating myself about being a clever little boy when I fell off. The dreaded black ice had kicked the front tyre away. Fortunately, it was at low speed, both bike and I survived the experience with little more than a shock to our systems. Just my luck, though, that the local school let out a horde of urchins. There were absolutely delighted at viewing a real life accident. Especially when the ice got me the second time as I tried to boot one of them up the backside. I went flying, nearly breaking an elbow!
I decided to wait until the spring before riding the CB again. That gave me plenty of time to go over the chassis, clean up the rust and do a not unreasonable paint job in bright orange. There was plenty to do, including finding newish tyres, chain and pads. The chrome on the wheel rims was disgusting, cured with a wire brush and black Hammerite. The rust hadn't gone so deep anywhere on the chassis that it wasn't possible to do a salvage operation. Not bad for an eighteen year old bike.
When temperatures were more moderate and the ice had done a disappearing act, I was ready for the open road and an excess of high jinks. I didn't get very far. The battery revealed itself as not willing to hold a charge. We stuttered home, lucky to make it to the door before the bike sunk into a deathly silence, made all the more spectacular by the Mad Max roar from the 4-1 exhaust that normally echoed off buildings. Bike batteries are extortionately expensive but there was no way the CB would run without one.
The next ride was more successful. I did nearly a 100 miles before disaster struck. The OHC four was not the most powerful middleweight in the world; indeed, could be called gutless by those of an unkind disposition. That was not the impression I had when I shut the throttle dead at 70mph in third. Nothing happened, or rather the bike continued to scream ahead as if the throttle was fully open. It dawned on me, as I saw my life flash before me, that the cable was stuck.
In retrospect, it was quite impressive, the way the Honda shot over on to the wrong side of the road and then banked over so far I almost took my kneecap off. The suspension was old, stock stuff that turned to quivering mush then locked up solid. I felt like I was on a rocking horse that was about to fall apart, but she held her line and got us out of the corner at about twice the speed I'd normally entertain. It was only then that I thought to switch off the ignition! After a slow journey home the throttle cable was filled with grease and given an easier route. I then had to spend two hours putting the carbs back into balance.
The handling was generally reasonable but seemed heavy for a 420lb bike. Town riding was hard work, partially down to the extremely narrow bars fitted by a previous owner (of which there had been eight) but they did allow comfortable 80mph cruising. A remarkable lightening of the handling occurred when I loosened off the steering head bearings a touch. In town that was fine, but on the open road at speeds above 70mph the bars began to twitch in my hands. The steering head bearings were pitted, looked egg-shaped. A new set of taper rollers had a beneficial effect on handling - light at town speeds, as steady as an FZR up to 80mph, when the weaves would come in due to the shagged suspension. By 85mph the front wheel didn't seem to know what it was doing and I thought my early demise was written in the way the chassis needed a couple of lanes to weave across.
I kept to 80mph and below. It was quite fast enough to keep up with most traffic and with a naked bike there was an exciting feeling of fighting the elements. This was helped along by the way the motor vibrated. The mirrors were useless, the tank threatened to fall apart whilst the bars and pegs made a Triumph twin seem a paragon of smoothness. Along with a rock hard seat, the CB didn't really have enough beef to make it as a grand tourer.
There was always some minor irritant that intruded upon my feeling of well being. The engine would suddenly cut out and refuse to start. Felt like fuel starvation, sure enough no fuel coming out. Looked in the tank to see bits of rust floating in the petrol. The filter at the bottom of the tank was blocked up. I shook the bike a bit to free the debris, rode home with two more stops to repeat the exercise.
When I went to undo the fuel tap it wouldn't shift. After taking a lump of skin out of my hand I became really nasty and whacked the screws to loosen them off. The next thing I knew I was holding a large chunk of petrol tank still attached to the tap! The rust had eaten so deeply into the tank that there was no chance of welding it even if I found someone willing to wave a welding torch in its direction. That's how the bike ended up disguised as a CB400F, as I picked up a good tank and seat for £25. At this age old Japs are at the end of their natural life and liable to fall apart under you!
One day I was riding along, quite content with my lot in life, when I glanced down at the motor to see oil spurting like blood out of an artery where there should've been a valve cap. It had fallen off despite the fact that I'd tightened it up after adjusting the valves the day before (a 750 mile chore but there were only eight of them and they were simple screw and locknut jobs). By the time I reached home there was hardly any oil left in the engine but it didn't seem to do any permanent damage.
It seemed like a good time to sell the machine to a mate who'd fallen for its simplicity. That's what the pervert said, anyway. Blow me if, in the past six months, the damn machine hasn't run like clockwork. The heaviest expense was fuel at 40mpg. I only used cheap, worn consumables and made a nice profit on the deal. It's not a very good motorcycle but as a cheap hack I couldn't really fault it.
Kevin Cody
Return to Contents for CB550/650's
I wanted a flash set of wheels but didn't have the thousands necessary to buy one. What I ended up with was a very neat mild custom Honda 650 Nighthawk. The last in the line of SOHC Honda fours. With a chromed four into one exhaust that did nothing to ruin the soft power delivery. I didn't mind in the least that all the action was below 100mph. Bright blue and silver were the colours of custom joy. Bars high enough to drain the blood from my mitts and a feel that was so laid back I yearned for the days when lids weren't compulsory and black shades were!
Any old Honda four, however shiny, with more than 42000 miles achieved, is going to be a bit finicky. My first taste was the gearbox action, as slick as a Chinese haircut and noisy as a steel band. Definitely not too cool, but not a great hassle as the bike would run down to 1000 revs in fourth gear without the usual transmission lash. Other than carbs that needed a balance every 750 miles, a couple of balmy summer months went happily by.
Then came the joys of the autumn rains. That old Honda nasty, cutting out in the wet. As a triple or twin the Honda was about as tasty as a pile of shite. In one raging rainstorm the CB cut out completely. I had to get down on my knees before it and empty a can of WD40 over the top of the motor. In the dark the sparking was an impressive fireworks display. Not until I mounted a set of used CBX750 coils on new leads and caps did the dangerous habit abate.
If the upright riding position was a veritable joy in town, and just about acceptable down my favourite back roads, speeds in excess of 70mph were comparable to a few hours on the rack. In the rain my groin was targeted for special attention, ending up looking like I'd pissed myself. An action not entirely unlikely given the rather remote ride and the worn state of the Far Eastern rubber. A new set of Avons were acquired as soon as finances allowed.
Most of the handling woes were then down to worn out suspension and swinging arm bearings. The back end would hop and skip, the front forks quaver at ant sized bumps, and I'd often think I was on some kind of deranged rocking horse. A pair of used but not too abused Hagon shocks were fitted without too much hammering (they were off a CB750) and a mighty fork brace attached out front. A couple of phosphor bronze bearings replaced the decrepit bits of plastic masquerading as swinging arm bushes.
Life became saner after these attentions. The double cradle frame looked tough enough but some idiosyncrasy of the kicked out front end still made for some interesting weaves at 75mph. Throw in character building speed wobbles when a large bump or pot-hole disturbed the poise of the forks. No end of minor adjusting was undertaken trying to sort this out but was as effective as screaming prayers when things got out of hand.
The Honda was thus a bit deceptive. Running calmly and strongly below 70mph only to turn vindictive at the slightest excuse at higher velocities. I let a few mates borrow the Nighthawk, forgetting to explain fully its nature. They came back all shaken up, full of wonder at my prowess, or at least at the minor fact that I was still alive. Pushing the Honda to 90mph caused it to quiet down a little, although I was totally aware that I was riding a potential death-trap that could throw me down the road at any moment.
These heroics became more intense with 110mph cruising, when devilish weaves were combined with a shuddering chassis that felt mere moments off complete disintegration. 120mph was the most I ever dared - and only the once! The truth was that the engine ran out of power by the time the ton was done, and that secondary vibes doubled with every extra 500 revs.
The OHC engine can trace its ancestry back to the CB500/4, which in turn was inspired by the late sixties CB750. The most marked difference between the 750 and 500 being the use of a separate oil tank on the former, a passing tribute to the antiquity of old British twins.
Electronic ignition removed one maintenance chore on the 650, but the eight valves need regular attention to their screw and locknut tappets - tedious every 1500 miles or so, but at least I don't have to fork out for shims every ten minutes. A flurry of secondary vibes around 5000 revs announces the carbs goings out of balance. If they are ignored fuel drops from a poor 40mpg to a cataclysmic 30mpg! I actually went as far as taking the carbs off to clean them out (gunge from the rusting tank had gotten into them) but wished I hadn't when I tried to put it all back together again. Oh well, we live and learn a little.
Apart from such chores the motor ran to 69,500 miles before it was completely worn out, right down to shot crankshaft and gearbox bearings. The last few weeks were ghastly, with 250 performance and enough noise to announce the second coming. The engine didn't quite seize but ground to a halt outside work, refusing to start even when pushed by a couple of burly louts. The chassis was still splendid, especially with the suspension mods, so I could not easily abandon the Nighthawk to a fate worse than death - left to rot in the car park where urchins would quickly tear it limb from limb.
My first thought was to pull the motor down and do a quick rebuild. Apart from a couple of screws there was nothing left that was of any use to anyone. My second ploy was to buy MCN and do a lot of phoning around breakers until a good motor turned up. CB650's were never the most popular machines but an engine did turn up after about a week of abuse swapping. No, it couldn't be heard running but for £175 what did I expect? How about a little civility and truthfulness. No hope!
After the usual cursing match the replacement motor was installed and even started after an argument with a car battery. I knew it was a pile of crap within moments. You didn't need to belong to Scotland Yard to detect the way the vibration made it shuffle across the garage like an old Bonnie. Nor did you need the acute hearing of a blind man to notice the rattles and knocks. It was the kind of bike that made packs of juveniles throw bricks at it!
Such unpleasantness lasted for all of 367 miles when the motor locked up solid. It could've been a disaster but we were only doing 20mph and I kicked the bike out of the slide. The back wheel remained locked up until we skidded to a halt - the clutch had just exploded when I grabbed its lever. Charmed I wasn't.
A week later reports reached my elephant ears of a friend of a friend of a friend whacking into a coach at 50mph. My mind twitched when I realised that his CB500 four engine would surely fit straight in. The guy was so disillusioned that he said I could take the compacted bike away for £100. Promising, the speedo only read 29 thou. The engine didn't go straight in but with modified engine mounts and a spacer on the gearbox sprocket it was wham-bang-mam time.
To be honest, I couldn't find much difference between the 500 and 650's performance. I didn't even feel much difference between the low end grunt. I was so impressed I tore the engine covers off for bead-blasting and did the rest of the motor in matt black (originality was never my strong point). The motor has so far done 15000 miles with the usual maintenance chores (plus points on this engine).
Some chassis malaise showed up as the bike pushed past 80,000 miles. The twin front discs had only needed pads every 12,500 miles and the odd clean out but by 80 thou the discs were ringing due to thinness, not helped by the heat treatment doled out when both calipers locked up. Replacement with used bits the only cure. The rear drum's still there, just, but the exhaust's hanging on by silvers of chrome. The steering head bearings went and the forks are somewhat loose.
Despite all that, I've the feeling that the bike will make it past the 100,000 mile mark - just in case it doesn't I've bought a good CB650 mill for £250. Nighthawks are well worth a look.
Ian Sterling
Return to Contents for CB550/650's
The CB550F was a bit staid when compared with contemporaries, although a good bit more reliable except for the exhausts and the shocks which never lasted any length of time. Some versions had fork gaiters fitted which made up for their ugliness by making a good job of protection - no stanchion pitting, no damaged fork seals equals no costs.
I've fond memories of the 550F and must admit to more than a little favouritism. I saw her as a mildly customised job, a subtle blend of stock and carefully grafted parts, chosen for their enhancing qualities. the whole ensemble finished off with a gloss black frame contrasted by a tasteful, if somewhat unusual, shade of metallic red. Lines similar to classic Brit iron without frill or plastic styling.
Insensitive mates, more accurately, if not a little harshly, described her as an ancient bitza held together by black and brown Hammerite. Admittedly, she has needed a fair bit of work to keep her on the road but then she'd some rough treatment from a previous owner. To be fair, this was reflected in the price, so there's no real cause to complain.
A perplexing fault came to light, shortly after buying the bike. The engine used to die on right-hand bends and turns only to fire up relatively easily at the roadside. There followed a slow deterioration of everything electrical. Weak headlight, temperamental indicators and erratic starting, culminated in a Saturday spent overhauling what passed for the bike's electrics. Jury-rigged is the closest thing to a description without resorting to swearing.
Some person must've hot-wired the bike at some point. The supply from the battery was twisted on to a stubby bit of wire from the ignition switch. The yard or so of 'insulting' tape surrounding this connection was not strong enough to withstand the strain of turning to the right. After this was repaired there was a vast improvement in the electrics except for the battery which wouldn't hold much of a charge.
A new battery faired much better but only for a short while before it went the way of its predecessor. The fault, after much swearing, was eventually traced to the condensor which had been wired in the wrong way around.
Slowly and surely, as finances and fate allowed, a transformation took place. The bike gradually evolved from a ratty scratcher to a midrange tourer. All of which was greatly helped by the demise of a mate's 400 Wet Dream. To this day I am indebted to him for sprockets, chain, left-hand switch, bars, etc.
My personal contribution consisted of an Oxford wind-shield and a set of panniers that matched the new paint job. The original seat was 90% tape so was replaced by a bargain K & Q number. The purchase of a new pair of shocks used up the last of the funds.
The bike had been acquired shortly after getting a full licence on a CB250RSA. Initially, the difference in size made the 550 a little awkward and heavier to handle. The ace bars it came with didn't exactly help. As we got to know each other better so the relationship blended harmoniously.
The gear ratios were sheer perfection. Top gear (5th) could handle speeds down to about 20mph. Of great benefit when trying to shake loose a tail-gater. The trick was to slow down enough in top to force the 'gater to drop down a couple of gears, then take advantage of the bike's acceleration to blast away and watch the car dwindle to insignificance in the mirrors.
The acceleration up to around 90mph was surprisingly strong stuff, but slowed after passing the ton. I once l saw an indicated 113mph on the M6. This was with a windshield, fully loaded panniers and a tent bunged on the pillion. Not bad for a P reg 550.
The front disc, despite its prominent exposure, performed surprisingly well, as long as you made allowances in wet weather and adjusted the caliper screw regularly. The rear drum only seemed to need adjusting when replacing the back tyre.
Tappets are screw and nut. The tank has to come off and you need to bend the end of the feelers to take clearances. Taking the tank off is a doddle, as long as you remember to turn off the petrol. Access to number three's plug is a bit tricky as the box spanner lever catches on the frame and the rev counter cable runs across the top of the spark plugs. When doing the points remember to use some sealant on the timing cover to prevent ingress of water.
The seat height suits my 29" inside leg and the seat hinges back after being unlocked from the other side. This makes for ease of access to the battery and airfilter. The carbs can't be worked on in situ and it's a real struggle to remove them. The airbox has to be removed as well. Getting everything back together is a right nightmare and leaves you exhausted and spent.
Not so with oil and filter changes, they're a dream. Plenty of room to work and for that old basin underneath. With a bike of this age, it's critical to make oil changes every 1000 miles and do the filter every second time. The camchain had a manual adjuster and I give the rod a little push just to make sure it isn't sticking every time (at 1500 miles intervals) I loosen the locknut.
With 40,000 miles on the clock even I had to admit that she was no longer at her best and in desperate need of a serious overhaul. But another bike and the demands of marriage meant the CB was left to slowly deteriorate for a few years. It became a rusty non-runner. Some money meant that I was eventually able to put together the mild custom mentioned at the start of the article.
All in all, I liked the 550F and feel it deserves a lot more recognition and applause than it's been getting. There were a few things wrong with mine but they were mostly down to misuse by previous owners. The maintenance is well within the average biker's capability and breakers have an abundant supply of spares unlike the case with a lot of todays electronic wonders.
Prospective buyers might like to note that in the not too distant future, the CB550F will be joining the ranks of the classic bikes. So, it might not be a bad buy. Don't ring me though, the wife's persistent nagging saw the departure of the CB but her jubilation was short-lived, lasting only until the arrival of two Z250s which I'd swapped for the 550. Wait a minute....I think I've been done. Two 250s only equals 500, I reckon I'm still owed a moped!
Jinge...
My first ride on the beast, a Honda CB550K3, was an absolute eye opener after my MZs. Verdict, I never realised something could feel that good....I mean sex is all very well but you can't beat the real thing. The next year was one of the happiest of my motorcycle life. The Honda and I saw a lot of dawns and sunsets together, including some in the Algrave where I went in the company of a CX500 owning friend.
The bikes were pretty evenly matched, it was normally easy to maintain a pleasant 75mph lope, with a bit of sightseeing, doing 250 miles or so a day. There is something immensely satisfying about sitting in the comfort of your tent in the evening after a hard days ride, revelling in the bends of the day and anticipating the pleasures of tomorrow.
On one occasion I remember leading through some fine wide sweeping bends, when the French stick loaf that I had strapped under an elastic bungee on the rear carrier came adrift and bounced end over end into the following traffic - I just caught sight of it in the mirrors. Needless to say, the bread and cheese that we had for lunch shortly after was a bit gritty. One time a whole bottle of cooking oil disintegrated covering the CX in oil - very messy.
Cruising at 75mph, the Honda feels very comfortable indeed. In fact this speed equates almost exactly to 6000rpm, which means approximately 12.5mph per 1000rpm in top gear. The figure of 6000rpm is also significant in that it is only from here that the bike really accelerates hard. That's not to say that it's a slug below six grand, in fact it's quite brisk for an aging middleweight, but there's a real rush between six and the red line at 9300rpm.
The handling? Well once again it's not bad for its age, totally outclassed by its more modern brethren but remember they are also considerably faster and of course much more expensive.
A decent used example won't cost much these days, maybe three or four hundred quid if you're lucky. It's unlikely to still have the original four into four exhaust because of the cost of the Honda replacement. Check that carbs mods have been made, where necessary, if it's fitted with a 4-1. It's worth drilling drain holes at the lowest point on the silencers if you're lucky enough to get one with the stock 4-4 as this lets moisture drain out.
Home maintenance is no problem. The tappets are screw and locknut, ignition timing is simple, carb balancing needs a set of vacuum gauges, but be careful with the oil filter bolt because the head is too small and will round off easily if the spanner slips. Buy the aftermarket bolt with a larger head. This did of course happen to me while changing the oil abroad - only 1500 miles away from home.
So there it is, my faithful old warhorse. She's long since gone, but I'll always remember the times we shared together, the places we went and the people we met.
James McBride
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