Copyright (c) umgweb.com 1998
The concept behind the CBR900 is nothing new, the only really interesting thing is that it's been applied by the world's largest motorcycle manufacturer. Almost as soon as the original Honda across the frame four was introduced, chassis manufacturers came up with frames that lost a quarter of the CB750's monstrous mass, most notably Dresda whose only failing was to inflict upon the world a cafe racer riding stance.
It's a pity that a company that came up with the gorgeous yet practical CBR600 had to go the GSXR route on the CBR. It either looks flash or horrible depending on taste, and the riding position is execrable in traffic, though nowhere near as bad as the nastiest boy in town, the GSXR1100. Were the machine anything other than merely borrowed I'm afraid that my first act would be to dump the largely useless fairing and put a proper seat on the thing. The pilot's perch might be tolerable but the pillion's pad is only of use as a means of rapid divorce (along the incredulous lines of, 'You paid £7000 for that....').
It is, of course, quite perverse to start this review on such a sour note, but more even than its fantastical power to weight ratio these irritants intrude to an extent that is quite incomprehensible. The CBR is so far otherwise ahead of the game that it's quite intolerable that it didn't serve as the base for the naked porky CB1000 instead of the colossal CBR1000.
This is a roundabout way of putting the CBR900 in perspective. Producing 120hp, the mere 410lb of chassis means that what would be normally a peaky unit can be used in softly, softly mode when necessary because there is so little mass to shift. Even more important, Honda have taken great pains to lighten unsprung weight to the largest extent possible without the bike falling apart when subjected to the usual road abuse (riding through roundabouts, up pavements, etc, etc). This minimises transmission rumble and wheel hopping whilst helping extend consumable life.
At least in theory. The most obvious piece of idiocy (re. running costs) is the use of a 16 inch front wheel and a special tyre section that is unique to the Honda, thus either impossible or extremely expensive to replace with other, superior makes. This might have been excusable if the tyre's performance was in some way revelatory, but the front end seemed less securely stuck to the tarmac than either a CBR600 or FZR1000. One of the first thing racers did with the CBR was to fit a 17 inch wheel so they could fit racing tyres with no apparent ill effects. Within 3000 miles the CBR's tyres were worn out. Gulp.
My tenure with the Honda coincided with the tyres wearing out. What had started out as extremely quick steering verged on the twitchy by the time the tyres were down to 1mm. The faster it went, though, the better it felt and the massive wrap-around frame ensured that no real wobbles developed. At times, the suspension felt quite harsh, the tyres a trifle remote and bike somewhat cramped but in truth I was doing nasty things with the throttle and enjoying immensely the remarkable rate of acceleration. It was all too easy to fall into wheelie mode or burn the rear tyre.
The gearbox was good for a Honda, almost up to the best Japanese standard. My only complaint was that there seemed to be too many gears, the way the tacho kept swinging around the gauge I had to keep clicking up the ratios like a lunatic and often lost any idea of which gear I was in. The motor whirred away smoothly, only a slight irritation at 7500 to 8500rpm. The chain looked like it had never been adjusted since new.
Riding along the motorway, with a relatively smooth surface, the CBR lost most of its uneasiness and I was able to get down behind the fairing, something that needed a certain amount of suppleness and a lack of a beer belly; those with long upper bodies will find the CBR a bit cramped. Top speed was theoretical, the glossies reckon about 160mph, but my licence was so near death that there was no way I was going to chance that. All I can say is that it'll bolt up to 125mph like most bikes will reach 70mph!
Fast A roads were great fun as it could be thrown about like an FZR600 yet accelerated better than a FZR1000. I could maybe have adjusted the suspension better to suit my weight but the owner would've knee-capped me. That might have helped damp down some of the twitchiness, as would've a new set of tyres, but after a day on the Honda I'd developed enough faith in the chassis to ignore the tyres' complaints. The footpegs touched down first, which is far enough over for me to start to look for a way to slow down.
Here the brakes proved brilliant. There was no way the twin front discs were ever going to fade, with the lack of mass they could lose 50mph in what seemed like an instant. Just as well, given the way the Honda made 100mph seem like 70mph. They worked nicely in the wet with plenty of feel at the lever, although I would have preferred a touch more pressure needed to lock up the front wheel. That's probably just a matter of being more used to old hacks than new cycles.
The rear disc wasn't so good, combining a wooden feel with a sticking piston. The minimal rear mudguard allows huge amounts of crud over the back end that soon gets into the caliper. It needed a touch of the rear brake to stabilize the 900 when using a heavy dose of the front discs. The pads looked about a third worn.
Doing more than 200 miles, about all the tank was good for, started my backside complaining. The footpegs were spot-on, not so high to be cramping, and once more than 50mph was up the handlebars were tolerable. The raised pillion perch meant there was a small bum-stop but the saddle foam eventually flattens out. I liked the reassuring feel of a huge hunk of a petrol tank between my legs. It made me instantly feel part of the machine, unlike some of its rivals where you feel perched way atop the reptile.
That 200 mile range didn't come from a particularly large petrol tank (it held four gallons) but from some quite remarkable economy figures (in the context of a 120hp race replica). I was getting 50 to 55mpg. It would do only 45mpg when full revs were used in the lower gears but the Honda was just as much fun using less frantic revs in taller gears.
Which was just as well in wet weather. Using all the revs in second, for instance, would have the worn back tyre squirming all over the road. Much better to use milder revs in fourth or even fifth to damp down the wildness of the power delivery. It would run down to 1500rpm snatch free, though it obviously needed a bit more rpm to accelerate hard. Even with the squirming back wheel I always felt that I was in control.
Honda claims a lot of the credit for the 900's chassis is due to their mass centralisation theory, where everything is kept close to the centre of gravity. This seems a bit dodgy to me, there's no way that the 70 to 100 kilograms of the rider is ever going to be anything other than high off the ground - to counteract that the mass of the bike needs not to be as near to the centre of gravity as possible but as low as practicable. Whatever, Honda should be applauded for getting the mass so low that it almost makes Bimotas look obese!
By the time I gave the Honda back to its owner, the front fork seals had started to weep very slightly. He'd ignored my advice to put gaiters on straight away but didn't seem too amused by my repetition of this hard won bit of practical advice. Just a mile or two in wet weather had covered the Pro-Link back end in muck that boded ill for bearing longevity. A few sensible touches would've been welcome on such an expensive bike, but the blistering acceleration and fast steering chassis will stay firmly planted in my mind for months to come. I can neither afford to buy one nor pay the running costs but that doesn't stop me yearning like hell for a Fireblade.
Dick Lewis
Licensing laws in Japan means that 250s are immensely popular, much as they used to be in the UK before the 125cc limit was introduced, although the Japanese concentrate on new bikes rather than the hordes of old hacks in the UK. The Honda Jade is just one of many 250 watercooled DOHC fours on the market, but to my eye the best looking of the competitive bunch.
UK readers will recognise it as a miniature CB1000, although the 250 has been out for a couple of years, so the CB1000 is really a giant Jade. Retros are the current theme in Japan, appealing to both experienced riders and half cut youths. Race replicas become very tiring in Tokyo traffic jams. The styling theme on the Jade is along Nighthawk lines, albeit with a sensible riding position, that made me feel instantly at home. When I say Nighthawk lines I have to add that the Japanese have gone some way beyond the older bike's bland styling.
Its compact form is rather more suitable for Japanese frames than very obese Westerners. At 5'10'' it was just within acceptable limits, had I been much bigger I would have ended up looking very stupid rather than cutting a svelte dash. One of the strangest things about the Japanese is that the men look so awful and the women mind blowingly beautiful. It was dead easy to be distracted by some nubile whilst attacking Tokyo traffic. Very dangerous.
Hustling the Honda into Tokyo's congested streets - where car drivers pay as much for parking spaces as they do for petrol, and where there are still a lot of small commuters, with single seats and huge racks, used as working bikes because they are the only vehicles that can get across town rapidly - the engine seemed busy but gutless, whilst the 325lbs was easily slipped between gaps in traffic. I don't know which was most impressive from Honda, producing a 325lb 250 or 420lb 900 four. Motorcycle design is tearing ahead, but it had to be said that any lighter would lose the point as the bike will get knocked around too much by road bumps and sidewinds, especially when there's an expanse of plastic to catch the wind.
For the first couple of days I never even got the engine out of third, first and second were mostly employed in the snarled up traffic mess. There just didn't seem to be any point in struggling with taller gears. The Jade has a motor that runs, amazingly enough, from 1500 to 15000rpm without a glitch but only really comes on heavy with the power once past 10,000rpm. A sense of urgency occurs a couple of thousand revs below that but it doesn't translate into much acceleration, making second or third ideal for the fast pace necessary to take the small gaps in traffic that emerged out of the chaos.
Honda claim 40 horses at 14000rpm and, more revealing, maximum torque is developed at 11000rpm! Think about that, a decade ago 11000 revs would blow up most motors on the market, now it's the starting point on many bikes for power to go berserk. It's the way four strokers keep ahead of the wailing strokers, the latter with their compromised lubrication unable to match such dizzy levels of engine revolutions.
It wasn't until the weekend that I could really explore the parameters of the Honda, having to unfortuantely earn a crust (rather a large one actually) during the week. Sticking the frailest of Japanese girls on the pillion perch had a noticeable effect on acceleration but didn't seem to faze the chassis, which apart from a mono-shock rear end was surprisingly conventional. I always had the feeling that it was up to twice the power the Honda could put out, which is exactly the reverse of the situation in the good old seventies when hardly any superbike had a barely adequate chassis.
The widely splayed double cradle tubular frame looked like a poor relic from a GS550 but was undoubtedly stiff. The sloping seat and high pillion pegs pushed the nubile into a deliciously intimate embrace with myself, bringing forth a grin that lasted the whole weekend. Anyone who has ever had sexual relations with a Japanese woman will never be able to go back to Western girls, their sensational sensuality explaining the crazed arrogance of the average Japanese male.
I had found the riding position perfectly acceptable for town riding and was relieved to find it just as agreeable as we screamed out of Tokyo on a main road that was busy enough to require utmost concentration as I weaved the Honda through the traffic at 70 to 90mph. Traffic speed seemed half of my own, which made me stick out like a sore thumb amidst the Japanese who were remarkably restrained behind the wheels of their gleaming autos. The kind of pressure they were under (unbelievable working hours, incredible mortgages and a population density that was terrifying) I had expected them all to be mad buggers.
The seat, though both narrow and firm, proved well shaped and comfortable for a couple of hundred miles a day. The riding position was strangely reminiscent of a Honda CB400 four I used to own, although every other aspect of the Jade was miles ahead of that blandest of bland bikes.
The front forks seemed particularly fine, giving the bike unusual directional accuracy and stability, whilst the minimal mass made it easy to chuck around. They had a suppleness of action that I had not experienced before, more I suspect because it was unusual to fit such quality units to such a small bike, where they were not highly stressed.
Mind, Japanese roads are of a higher standard than UK ones, with an excellent smoothness that is only imitated by a newly laid British motorway for the first few hours of its existence. Even ribbons of mismatched concrete failed to set up any nasty pattering.
The rear shock was marginal even when fully turned up, two-up, but never really let loose. Solo, it didn't intrude to the same extent, but Honda are a bit notorious for fitting dubious rear shocks that need replacing by the time the guarantee runs out, probably keeping up that tradition with the Jade. Not a difficult item to uprate.
As the traffic cleared, I was able to scream the motor up to the ton without any problems, any secondary vibes that the mill might've produced absorbed by the tubular frame before they had a chance to affect bars or pegs. With such tiny pistons, even at its incredible revs, there was so little reciprocating mass that, given Honda's artistry on the CAD screen, it was no surprise that it was an order of magnitude smoother than even a brand new Honda CB400/4.
Indeed, perhaps the most impressive trait was the silky smoothness of the engine, which revved with electric alacrity and gave off the impression that here was a motorcycle of exceptional build quality, something echoed by the overall feel of the ride and the sheer buzz of pushing it hard.
The nature of the Japanese motorcycle market means that the punters expect a bike to run faultlessly for a year or two when it is then thrown away, replaced by the latest bit of trendy engineering; motors are lucky to get any more attention than the odd oil change, so have to be built along indestructible lines just to get a toe-hold in the market. The Honda Jade had that bullet-proof feel that all good engines give off.
It even persisted as I revved out in fourth, fifth and finally sixth; enough to pull off a 120mph excursion before thoughts of being locked away in a Japanese jail for the rest of my life intruded. The Japanese legal system is so nasty that even the police are reluctant to arrest minor offenders, because once put in jail it's almost impossible to convince the judiciary that you're innocent. Neither are the police easily bribeable, unlike most Asian countries, at least not for the kind of dosh I'm able to raise.
The frail was squeezing the breath out of me in a most amusing way, although the chassis remained rock solid in its stability; she later revealed that the slipstream was buffeting her lid about to the extent that the strap had chaffed her throat. This probably wouldn't be a problem for the average biker's moll, with skin as coarse as a gorilla's but for the silky skin of a Japanese girl abrasions come very easily.
Playing silly buggers on the gearbox could've become tiresome but the change was as slick as any I've come across and the snarl out of the 4-1 exhaust, come 12000rpm, was always so delicious that I never became pissed off with the revvy nature of the beast. Even when just fired up from cold it was uncannily civilised at low revs if utterly lacking in useful power and torque. Cold English winter mornings might give the mill a harder time, but electronics and engines have become so sophisticated that I rather doubt this. The only problem with such advances, that it's far too complex to fix when it eventually goes wrong.
It was a bit of a giant slayer, too. Or perhaps it was just that the Japanese riders were so sane and sensible that they could not comprehend my wild riding antics. I didn't come across any of the Speed Tribes who are such mad nutters that even I would not try to race them. Whatever, the few race replica 400s that I found were soon dispatched, even if I had to ride on the wrong side of the road a couple of times and actually caused the single front disc to shake the forks in the yokes.
The front brake always packed a punch but the rear was so insensitive as to be useless. A drum would've looked much neater and worked better. I wouldn't put a drum on the front, though, modern discs have advanced to the stage where they are vastly more powerful than the best drums and much more sensitive even in the wet (when properly designed).
The only thing to let the chassis down was the rubber (Japanese condoms have an equally poor reputation). Fine in the dry they became nasty in the wet, Tokyo roads being especially slippery after a tropical storm. I didn't actually fall off but frequently had to put two feet down to stop the bike falling off the edges of the rubber as they skittered over the tarmac. Had it been a heavyweight four I'd have ended up with a broken leg. I couldn't find any Avons, which is typical of the progress British companies have made here even with world class products.
The lack of mass and smooth power delivery meant that chain adjustments were minimal and tyres didn't seem to wear out, although with 11000 miles done the front brake pads were about due for replacement, more down to my wild riding antics than any particular fault with their design. Fuel ran through the motor at 45 to 60mpg, so the Jade could pass muster as an economical means of transport. It's unlikely that anyone would bother checking its 16 valves and the carbs stayed in balance during the 2700 miles I've done so far. Somehow, Japanese engineering has advanced to the stage where even massive neglect fails to ruin a motor.
After just a couple of hundred miles, riding the Jade became second nature, instinctive, as if it had become an extension of my body and mind. Riding at ten-tenths on many bikes is a quick way to an early grave but this Honda is so responsive to my needs that it now seems the only way to hustle a path through the chaotic traffic. It is, mercifully, not an easy bike to wheelie, had it been I'd probably have tempted fate excessively and ended up a hospital case. Not a good idea when you don't have any medical insurance, and the Japanese idea of tolerable pain levels would have me screaming my head off in total, far gone agony!
Prices for used ones are absurdly low, even with the sky high Yen. I reckon a near perfect Jade with less than 10,000 miles on the clock could be got into the UK for £1500 to £1750 including shipping and taxes. Engine spares would be a problem but it should run for 40 to 50,000 miles before needing any attention. I don't know if the grey importers in the UK have started to bring them in yet, but they seem too good a deal to miss out on.
In many ways the Jade is a bit of an oddity. In most respects it's an utterly sensible motorcycle, but one fitted with an engine that only knows one, fun filled, way to deliver its power. This may not be to everyone's taste but a day's worth of riding would probably convert everyone to the Jade's way of doing things!
Mike Prescotte
First impressions were mixed. Speed and acceleration left my mind reeling. G-forces like a jet fighter and highly illegal speeds with just a twist of the throttle. In any gear and at any time. Excess power mixed with minimal mass. An old, old combination but one that many other bikes ignored. Old British twins used to do the same trick, but the vibes destroyed them before they got very far.
I was shocked by the amount of buzzing affecting the fairing. The noise seemed to thrum through the whole machine. Turning a sophisticated piece of four cylinder madness into an old rat. There was no way I would ever put my head down behind the screen. The buzzing caused massive distortion, like looking through dirty water in a storm. The vibes destroyed the pleasure of the speed and acceleration.
I read the tests again. Hardly any mention of vibration. A couple even reckoned it was a smooth mill. The clock read 3500 miles. Just one owner who'd seemed fairly sensible. He didn't wheelie the bike in my presence, anyway. I took the plastic off to check if the engine bolts were loose. They weren't but the plastic was very thin and flimsy. So much so that it cracked around the mounting holes when I replaced it.
Next day I had a look at a CBR in the dealers. Sure enough the fairing was much more substantial. Just to make sure I wasn't imagining things, I went home, tore the fairing off and went for a ride on the naked bike. The smoothness of the low mileage engine was brilliant.
That suggested the CBR had been dropped. As hard as I looked I could not find any sign of damage. Just a couple of screws that showed the tell-tale signs of being undone. As an interim solution I left the lower half of the fairing off. At the time, there were a couple of stories in the press of CBR's modified into naked machines. I slobbered over them but the cost of the bits was too high. Eventually, a secondhand fairing with some cracks was bought for £75. A GRP repair and some transfers put the bike back to its full glory.
I must admit that riding a bike that had been previously crashed, did absolutely nothing for me. On a normal machine it'd been bad enough. On a 175mph bike it was a peculiar form of madness. I was always looking for some sign of the chassis breaking up. A sudden shudder over a bumpy road represented the alloy frame failing from fatigue. The front wheel pattering when well banked over, accelerating hard out of bends, was the casting about to go.
The light mass and hefty frame, should've been the pinnacle of chassis technology. Should've been a sheer joy to hustle. But the thought of having the bike unravel under me held me back for a month or so. Then I decided, sod it. This was no way to live. If I was going to die I might as well do so at speed and in style.
Let's go wild. The major trouble with the CBR was that it went so fast so easily that it'd get you banned for life within days. I went from worrying about the machine breaking up to despairing of avoiding the cops. They were armed with radios, road blocks, helicopters and aeroplanes. Out on the open road a major effort was required to stay under 100mph. If I suffered from a nervous twitch the damn thing would have been running along at 150mph.
The totally compulsive nature of the power play made it difficult to ride in a sensible way. The excessive excitement of all the senses and pure glow of pleasure. The first time I ran the bike flat out through the gears I couldn't believe such sensations were available legally. The second time I thought too much, I'm going to kill myself. A heart attack in the exquisite arms of the Honda. By the third time I was an addict.
I started off hurtling down the straights, realising how fast I was going then panic braking for the approaching corner. The front end howled so fiercely under my desperate grip on the lever, I thought I was going to do a 100mph stoppie. What would've been a suicide trip on a Z1000, turned out to be easy-peasy as it rolled around the bend at an improbable velocity as if on rails.
I mention the Z1000 because that was my previous mount. Even with a much modded chassis it could still be called a rolling death-trap. But I'd become used to its wild ways to the extent that I usually rode it at CB400 Superdream speeds. My reactions were tuned to this massive beast with tractor-like controls. The CBR came as a complete culture shock.
The first thing I noticed, with 4000 miles on the clock, was that the tyres were worn out and the front pads rattled. What had been close to sublime became much closer to the devious Z1000. That infamous sixteen inch wheel, for instance, became very sensitive to road bumps. That doesn't sound too bad but one time it flew away from the bike. The bars twitched in my hands. With a cunning I didn't know I possessed, I grappled with the them and threw the machine back into line. Every muscle in my body strained with the effort but I won out.
Honda went to great lengths to explain that their unique section tyre allowed the low mass of the smaller wheel with the dynamics of a seventeen incher. For most of the time this seemed true enough but a worn out tyre will let go with a suddenness for which sixteen inch wheels are renown. The answer's to change the tyre before the tread goes below 1mm. Real hooligans have even fallen off under duress on decent rubber, but that's a feat of madness that escaped me. Thank God! It's possible to fit a seventeen inch wheel, from, I think, a VFR or NR 750.
The CBR900 looks as uncomfortable as most race replicas but looks can often be deceiving. Honda started to perfect the ergonomics of motorcycles in the mid seventies with the CB400F and consummated that art with the excellent CBR600. All that weight of design couldn't be totally submerged when they came to the CBR900. Obviously, it can't compete with a full dress Gold Wing on the long distance comfort front, but it's nowhere near as bad as an FZR or GSXR. The stretch over the tank was mild, my legs didn't feel cramped and I found the riding position good for up to 300 miles in a few hours.
The Honda could run along at constant speeds without any traumas. An 120hp motor it might have, with a violent, exhilarating output of power at the top end of the rev range, but it runs well from tickover, any lack of torque it might have more than compensated by the minimal mass. Honda have pared down each and every component and placed all the heavy stuff as close as possible to the centre of gravity. Both the dry mass of 420lbs and the way it's concentrated makes for an ease of use that grand tourers can only dream of.
There's so much raw power, though, that piling it on coming out of bends lightens the front wheel, which causes the bars to swing back and forth between the steering stops. The first time this happened I thought it was time to say my prayers, having experience similar wobbles on the Z that turned really nasty. The CBR became stable again by either backing off or picking the bike upright. These machinations could be ignored on smooth roads but if the front wheel hit a large bump coming out of a corner, the deflection amplified the wobble, made the whole bike feel very tremulous. I was never thrown off but it seemed a very close thing on several occasions.
The CBR had excellent steering accuracy (when the front wheel was actually on the ground) and easy steering, that allowed me to plot a safe course through the bumps. I took the intrigues of the front end as a sign of a thoroughbred motorcycle rather than a devilish swine that was out to kill me (as in the case of the Kawa Z1000).
I was less willing to forgive the gearbox action that needed the kind of concentration you'd have to give to sex for the first time. At times I just couldn't get it to go in. At others it'd downchange a ratio all of its own accord, as if complaining that I wasn't using the performance to the full. Honda gearboxes have always been less than perfection and it seemed that they'd taken out so much mass of the cogs and selectors to leave the whole 'box very finicky. 1000 mile oil changes certainly helped and were, anyway, necessary because excessive town use caused a lot of condensation in the oil.
Consumable wear was heavy but fuel varied from 25mpg to around 50mpg, the latter from just bumbling along at under 5000 revs. 40mpg didn't need much restraint to achieve, the legal limits could still be broken enough for instant loss of licence. One slightly worrying aspect was that really hard thrashing used up half a sump full of oil in about 500 miles. Normal riding didn't shift the level at all.
Finish was reasonable, there wasn't much steel to rust. A couple of fasteners were spotted with rust and the finish on the exhaust looked a bit dubious. The fit of the tank to the frame was poor, the seat plastic was bit worn where my leg had rubbed against it. The pillion pad was reported as being incredibly uncomfortable. One tall passenger staggered off the bike after half an hour, collapsed on to his back and waved his cramped legs in the air. The mirrors were useless at speed, blurred visions of white cars causing heart palpitations. The lights blistered a path through dark roads but the indicator switches had a very vague feel that I never really became used to.
These are minor quibbles, of course, but after a hard day's ride, when it's cold and pouring down, they can intrude. The plastic gave little protection from the rain; indeed, the screen funnelled it right into my jacket, and the throttle had to be treated with the gravest respect on wet roads. It can be a bit of a pain at times, even potentially dangerous.
Thus do many CBR's end up being dumped on the tarmac. That means a very close examination before purchase and not being blinded to everything by its stunning performance.
T.T.R.
There are many ways to enjoy the motorcycle experience. I've tried most of them. From rat Hondas, through venerable MZ's, to middleweight fours like the GPz750. Even a brief liaison with a GL1200! Then true revelation came by way of one of the early CBR600's, a startling device that had done over 60,000 miles in its first year before reaching my tender hands. A cynic might say the tenderness came from the GPz's secondary vibes.
I didn't expect much, being cynical about road test exclamations of enthusiasm - the truth only emerges with the next model, when the old one is suddenly slagged off. Later models of the CBR600 that passed through my hands proved to be even better, a rare evolution of motorcycle design, in my experience, especially for a large multi-national company like Honda.
Red and silver paint enhanced the lines of the plastic on that first model. The only one I liked more was the white and red effort, which made a passable impersonation of a plod bike at speed. Useful if I was in a hurry. Bankrupt of further paint ideas Honda lately turned the CBR into a suicide mission by the use of metallic grey paint that merged so perfectly with the tarmac that it all but became invisible to other traffic. Honda wasn't the only company to make this tragic mistake, many a GSXR also heading for an early bath. I shouldn't complain, at least there would be a ready supply of engines in the breakers.
That first CBR seemed incredible after struggling with a GPz750. The latter did run worn, stock suspension, so I shouldn't have been that surprised by all the effort needed, nor by some of the monstrous weaves. Truth to tell, the CBR was also wearing worn forks and shock, but the massive frame, relatively low mass and superior design made it seem like I was on another planet.
The effortless way it floated through bends, bimbled up and down mountains, and blatted along straights at incredible velocities turned me into the hero of the local bike gang and left me drooling at the prospect of more to come. 150mph on the clock, with me in a relatively comfortable crouch, the rev counter flirting with the red and just a flutter of secondary vibes through the plastic. The GPz was rough and elemental by way of comparison.
The Honda was running a stock exhaust that undoubtedly aided the smooth carburation, a revelation after Kawasaki's amateur efforts. (not helped by a race 4-1). If both bikes responded well to harsh use of the throttle, the Honda lacked the GPz's torque below 7000 revs but confusingly ran much smoother due to its superior carburation. The Honda ran in a civilised manner at low revs where the Qwack would surge like a dying stroker, but wouldn't accelerate any harder than a Superdream unless a few gears were dropped and the throttle hammered to the stop. The resulting exhilaration was well worth the effort. This was a trait that became more defined on later models.
The only complaint that I had against this stroker-like need for the powerband blues was the gearbox. Honda had a long history of producing bikes with awkward boxes, especially after the first 20,000 miles. The CBR was no exception, often seemed a throwback to the sixties, with more false neutrals than gears. Being used to aged machinery was a definite aid to producing a series of clean changes - after about a month I'd developed enough feel for the box to snap my way through the gears without too much hassle. If I let my concentration lapse, though, it was dead easy to have the engine screaming into an early death in a false neutral. The life of O-ring chains varied between 5000 and 13000 miles, depending on make and throttle abuse.
Later gearboxes had a slightly slicker change but were, again, badly affected by age and high miles. Persistence equalled a perfect change. I would've preferred a taller top gear, the engine always giving a revvy feel in all of the six ratios - I often found it easier to scream off in second rather than first.
The clutch was a beauty, light with plenty of feedback. I could even move off on a dead throttle by just gently feeding in the clutch. The real neutral was easy enough to find on the move but elusive at a standstill. Starting and the general controls were what you'd expect of such a sophisticated piece of machinery - bloody good. I did find it necessary to bung in a new set of plugs every 4000 miles, to avoid difficult starting and even the odd bit of cutting out in the rain during the winter months.
Maintenance wasn't easy as there was an excess of plastic to pull off, sixteen valves to adjust (rarely needing attention) and four carbs to balance (every 2000 in the early model and every 3500 miles in later examples), plus an oil change every 2000 miles (some owners reckoned that every 6000 miles was sufficient) and a new oil filter every third oil change. Not too onerous, I guess, and more importantly I never experienced any mechanical failures from an engine that had done between 60,000 and 95000 miles. I never even replaced a camchain, although previous owners had probably enjoyed that chore at least once.
Was I lucky? Maybe. There were some examples I viewed that had obviously enjoyed a sojourn on the race track and rattled and knocked like death was at hand. Easily sussed if you know what a good CBR is supposed to sound like. I never came across the fabled one owner, low mileage example, they do seem to be turned over awful fast. Probably down to speed freaks seeking more kicks. The highest mileage example I came across had done all of 123000 miles, sounded like there were a few ball bearings loose inside the mottled engine casings. The owner reckoned the engine was basically stock, wouldn't even admit to a camchain change.
The experience does dull a little with extended exposure, the engine coming over as a little bland despite its massive power. Those use to big vee-twins wouldn't be too enamoured of the high revving excesses but those used to Honda twins will find more of the same, only with a hundred fold increase in kicks.
All it takes to get the best out of the Honda is an interesting piece of road early enough in the morning not to have the police hiding in waiting (and they loiter in the oddest places). Handling, braking and acceleration are all sublime, at least to anyone brought up on the older style fours. A newish '92 model showed up my bike as a bit slow and worn (with eighty thou on the clock), as equally past it in the ride quality as the acceleration, but I was soon used to its ways again. I sold that bike only because I was offered a brilliant trade-in deal on a new '92 example. Not surprisingly, the dealer clocked my bike and sold it for even more than I was offered but ended up in court over the matter as I tracked down the new owner and told him the awful truth.
Save for minimal servicing, a depressing excess of tyres and brake pads, and one wrecked half of a fairing when the sidestand snapped, I did 61000 miles of wild riding, pure highway excesses, until someone stole the bike. Except for even less low rev torque the bike was in every way superior to the earlier model. Because of increasing costs, I had opted for mere third party insurance, which unless you mow down a line of peds is worse than useless. Cry? I screamed.
Various bits of this bike were handed back to me by the plod after the thief crashed into a lorry. About the only useful one was the engine. This was sold off for £750, some more money added to buy a '91 CBR600 with 71000 miles up and scratched plastic. The least successful of the CBR's I've bought, it still hammered around the country at speeds so illegal that it finally helped get me banned for a year. Cops laying in wait down a deserted country road.
The latest adventure has been test riding a couple of '95 models and taking a '94 example for a spin. Fantastic after a year out of the game. The engines definitely give their best with 30,000 miles or less on the clock but don't appear to have any chronic faults up to 75000 plus miles! Raced examples, obviously, should be avoided and minor cracks in the plastic can turn out very expensive. Soon, I'm going to buy a newish example but not one with the grey paint scheme, although it might be useful in avoiding the plod.
Gary Fromer
'93 Blade on a K plate for its salvage value of £2700. Was I interested? It needed a radiator and a fairing after a 20mph drop in London traffic. The insurance companies had fought it out and if I matched the salvage offer it was mine. My Yamaha XJ900 proved fine for touring (see Morocco jaunt, earlier edition), except the fairing was too small but meanwhile the boy-racer in me said, yes please!
Repairs were easy. Fairing was plastic welded (thanks Graham of Plastec, Reading) - a permanent, invisible repair and almost anything can be restored, then sprayed. The rad was replaced by a good secondhand one from Just Blades for £100 instead of the £350 from Mr Honda. A straight clip-on, brake lever and two indicators, and she was ready to run. Total cost £400 instead of £1500 for new!
So on August 8th, 9pm, I put on the tank-bag, bungeed on a rear bag and set off for Portsmouth. Seriously, it was my first ride on the bike and I was all set for France, Spain and Portugal. Would my 44 year old bones cope? The last bike with clip-ons I owned was 23 years ago - a Triton; God don't start on that!
Down the A34 south from Newbury (the dual carriageway bit), it was nicely dark and my first thoughts were, how do you dip these lights? It has a switch mounted above the indicator, which is awkward with clip-ons. Also the indicators don't self cancel. At that moment a Senator whizzed by at 120mph - should I play? No, let's be sensible for once, so I maintained 80 to 90mph, just burbling along at 5000 revs.
Three minutes later, hee, haw, hee, haw. The jam sandwich flew by and nabbed him. Was it my lucky day! On to the boat, head down in a cabin (never reclining seats), I arrive refreshed and only 480 miles to my destination. The crossing, with bike nicely tied down by Brittany Ferries, is ace as you arrive in Brittany at a sensible time and more importantly you can have a long sleep - unlike all the shorter crossings.
The trip through France via Rennes, Nantes, La Rochelle, Saintes, to Bordeaux was boring - the N roads are brilliant, the traffic moves over for big bikes...and SUN! Always fill up at hypermarkets as Frog petrol's now £3.70 a gallon. If you plan a day crossing look for the Formula One hotels to stay in a sterilised room that sleeps three for £17 a night and booking is via a hole in the wall machine, usually with English instructions. You can arrive covered in grime or wet through, sleep three in a bed, whatever, without snooty looks as after 10pm no-one is around, the computer has no morals so have a party.
The Honda proved faultless on its performance. Try 70mph in first, 105mph in second, 135mph in third - I bottled out after that. I saw 150mph once, briefly, but found that the tank bag plus my slightly loose Shoi made warp speeds uncomfortable - besides who wants to play nowadays? Petrol consumption was light, average 50mpg plus, and I cruised at around 90 to 95mph. My wrists didn't suffer at that speed but the legs cramped and so did the bum, every 100 miles a stop was needed.
The bike was so light that it didn't need any effort to ride it - the Yam was a slug in comparison - but the gearbox had room for improvement. I checked the chain, thinking it might be slack but, no, all okay. You never miss a gear, it's very positive but clunks in. I found that the easy way to enjoy the acceleration was to give it a blast through first, second and third then slow down to my cruising speed. Despite the weather, 28 degrees plus, the water temperature remained middling and I arrived at my stop near Lourdes at tea-time.
After a few days respite (back and bum recovered well) my friend arrived on his full power V-Max. He'd crossed from Stuttgart in 14 hours, covering 800 miles in a day. Fool! He arrived in a brilliant thunder storm, with lightning like only the mountains can produce. We left France south of Pau, and nearing Pamplona cut across country to join the main Madrid road south. Spanish roads are superb, petrol's cheap and the currency's one of the few in a worse state than sterling. I can't recommend it too highly. Okay, it may be our VAT that's paying for their road building program - that's a good reason to go over and use them!
We stopped every 100 miles for muscular relief and to fill up the V-Max. It was doing really well on fuel (60mpg) but the tiny tank under the seat had only a small reserve - so plenty of cafe stops to drink cooling liquids. Forget the crap handling reports - it corners fine if you don't bottle out and shut off; then it waggles. First night was at Tordesillas, a double room for £25 (£12.50 each) - why mess with a tent when you can snore and shower in comfort?
Next morning saw us along the last bit of Spain, across the high plain to Zamora, then a yellow road into Portugal. The border on a dam was unmanned, then the road changed. Portugal has two classes of road - main and crap! We foolishly planned the route via the crap ones, heading to Porto. Clip-ons, bad roads and 90 degrees heat gave me a hard time. The Blade was okay, but despite softening the suspension it wasn't designed for 30mph roads made of rubble and cobbles. The countryside was quite pretty, mountainous and arid but with frequent burnt out areas where the forest fires had been.
Portugal's a poor country. Rubbish disposal means dumping all at the roadside, so nice areas weren't. We burbled our way to Peso de Regua along the famous Douro valley, which is a hot version of Loch Ness. Flooded valley, very deep and it runs for miles. A three star hotel hove into view, the word Picina or something like that, so within ten minutes we were booked in, changed and splashing in the pool. A large Super Bock local lager went down a treat and we enjoyed the pool, getting rid of the dust of the day.
That night the famous local wine was tasted (they make Port out of it), a good meal enjoyed and in all the stay cost £25 each. At about 2am the Blade's Spyball alarm went off, because it was bored, I think, and the remote pip from the 4th floor cut it out. Real poseur! Next morning, the V-Max's rear pads were shagged, and after a lot of pointing a bike mechanic changed his plackets for £20.
Then into Porto. Don't bother. The city's industrial and full of road works. So we headed north and stayed in a seaside resort (Povoa de Varzim) that strangely lacked hotels. Apparently the locals all have flats. Big problem on the beach - the local lasses keep their wobbly bits under cover but the Super Bock was still ice cold! Time was running out, so next day we headed north to the Spanish border and stopped for lunch at a cafe.
On returning to the bikes, disaster - no spark on the Blade! Luckily a local biker who spoke English, had a beer with us (actually several, thanks Jose), rang the local dealer who turned up with a breakdown vehicle some four hours later...of course, by then the bike had cooled down and started instantly! We all went to the dealers and the next morning they checked it over and found nothing wrong. I put it down to too much San Miguel.
We left Vigo, apparently home to the Spanish navy, covered in smoke from more forest fires and cruised to Cape Finisterre - that was beautiful, quiet, cheap and had great roads. Like Devon hills only with some sunshine thrown in for free. A mega fish meal, overnight stop in a fishing village pension and we hit the road. Getting faster, around La Coruna and on towards Santander. Brilliant roads, long winding sweepers...then we were passed by a K100 who knew the road. Great, we followed him for some 50 miles at 95-ish and had the best blast of the trip. That was from Baamonde to the coast at St Martin de Mondonedo, the E70/N634, so if you get that way - do it!
The last day we travelled to Santander, around the bay to St Biarritz for a beach bronzy few hours then back up the incredibly boring nearly motorway to Bordeaux. We decided to do the 100 miles in one hour, and would have succeeded had it not been the day of the holiday hordes returning. I survived the trip on the 900 - but anyone want to buy a Fireblade? Fine for local blasts, warp speeds but totally unsuitable for touring, rough roads and low speeds.
Barry Charman
The most exciting thing I ever did in my life had nothing to do with motorcycling but riding the Super Four around Britain in the summer of '96 comes close. Recall those long, hot days and imagine how well a motorcycle fits into the scheme of things, especially with the tail end of June '97 turning into winter. Better still on a bike like the 1996 Honda CB400 Super Four which has none of the intrusive nastiness of the race replica greys but most of their performance.
The more I rode the bike, the more the mileage piled up, the more I became convinced that here was the perfect motorcycle. The one area where it was lacking was low rev torque, the engine much preferring to run above 10,000 revs than below it. Oh, it was smooth and civilized at low revs without any transmission lash but there didn't seem any motive power at the end of the throttle.
For once the world's largest motorcycle manufactuer spent some time and effort on the gearbox, turning out a unit that was almost as slick as Suzuki's best, which is as good as it gets. That made working the six speeds and light throttle a pure pleasure; invigorating rather than the usual pain in the butt.
Beware, though, the gearboxes are somewhat variable, perhaps dependent on regular oil changes or merely mileage - I test rode three other low mileage bikes before chosing mine which lacked entirely the clunkiness of two of them. I had a feeling that they had been clocked as patches of the paint were heavily worn around the back of the tank!
Given the need to rev the balls off the engine, I wouldn't recommend buying one unless it has a really slick gearbox. My bike also came with a modified ignition pack, removing the 53hp restriction inflicted by the Japanese market and also cutting out the rev limiter. The engine was quite happy to rev to 16000rpm in the first three gears but didn't have the power to hold those revs in the taller ratios, which were limited to 15000rpm maximum. It's worth checking if the bike's restricted or not as a few extra horses at this kind of power level can make all the difference.
The engine made a lovely howl when on cam, partly down to its nature and partly down to the fact that some hoodlum had drilled holes in the silencer's end. When the power punched it in was sudden enough to give the bike some character and though it was probably no more than 60 horses its emphatic nature made it seem like more. Call it great fun and you wouldn't be far wrong. Much more so than most Japanese middleweights.
The bike wasn't exactly a lightweight at 380lbs - in fact the old 1976 CB400F only weighed 30lbs more though it had much less power. But consider the technology it was carrying. 16 valves, DOHC's and watercooling, though the radiator's tiny. The steel tubular frame added a bit more mass, but I didn't mind as it was well triangulated around both the swinging arm and steering head mounts.
The end result of its mass was a secure feel on the road, lacking some of ultra quick reactions of the pure race replica breeds but still being very easy steering. Helping along the relaxed feel of the steering was a perfect riding position, so natural that within moments of imposing my body on the bike I felt like I'd been riding it for years. Contrast that with the instant agony of the replicas, which only make any sense once above the ton.
The Honda was fun at all speeds. Rowing along at maximum revs in second or third for the relatively slow work provided a marvellous blast of adrenaline and got the blood flowing. The howl had packs of dogs trying to take nips out of my legs but I was usually moving too fast for them to catch me.
Using the power in the taller gears extracted some back up torque from the engine. At the ton, or even the ton-ten, in top gear the bike had an animal force that allowed it to maintain its velocity with absolutely no effort against such obstacles as large hills or strong winds. By 120mph it was feeling tired and troubled but would eventually put 125 on the clock. Probably a true 120mph on a good day.
I dare say it would've been fun to have mind blowing power at the ton that would shove the bike up to 170mph in the blink of an eye, but I could live without it, given what the cops would do to my licence if I was ever caught at such velocities. Most of the time I didn't go above 100mph and the performance limits of having a mere 400cc motorcycle didn't really come into it.
Because the riding position was so good, I found little to complain about the saddle for the first 80 miles or so, then it became a bit hard but survivable for another 20 or 30 miles when I had to pull over for a quick flex of my legs. The tank took over three and a half gallons of fuel, would do a minimum of 150 miles but could often be eked out for 200 miles.
Fuel varied from 43 to 62mpg, mostly in the 50 to 55mpg range. Not brilliant but acceptable. Tyres didn't do more than 6000 miles, though the chain had an easy life and rarely needed any attention. As I'm gentle on the brakes I haven't worn out the pads yet - and neither do the discs show any sign of thinness, a common Honda malaise.
The chassis paint shone beautifully when I bought the bike, managed to retain most of its shine over the winter. The downpipes were slightly speckled with rust and a little bit of alloy rot attacked the forks and cylinder head - both easily cleaned up. The bike appeared to have a better quality of finish than most official imports - so much for rumours spread about them not being up to spec.
Some of the grey importers are bringing in brand new Super Fours at around the four grand mark, which doesn't compare with 600 Bandits on performance but has better quality and is rather less ubiquitous. £2500 to £3500 buys a low mileage, near immaculate example from the importers and you may find one cheaper still in a private deal. Good value if you like this style of bike.
Having been impressed with the ease with which the Honda snapped around the UK, this year I'm off on a Continental tour. Don't know where, just leap on the bike and head south in search of wild roads and crazy babes. If you don't try you don't get lucky.
Graham Thomas
I don't know quite what I was expecting - one of those Gull-arm replicas? - but it wasn't the rather sensible, half faired Honda that stood before me. Back in 1986 the word radical didn't really exist in motorcycle design. Second UK owner, 36000 miles, bit tatty in the cosmetics but a nice mechanical whirl. The owner warned me that the gearchange took some getting used to - understatement of the year! It whizzed up the road in its rev happy way and I thought it wasn't half bad for a grand. Okay, let's deal!
For this kind of money, if you want something that shifts, you don't get all that much, but I figured a high tech four cylinder Honda was going have more life left in it than some highly strung stroker on its last legs. The Honda had to be wound up to about ten grand before it showed any signs of its 40 horses. Even then it wasn't wheelie time but the exhaust took on a nasty snarl and horizon thundered back towards me.
It was on my first hard run, just as the speedo flicked past 95mph, that the handlebars twitched in my hands. The road was smooth, as far as I could discern, and the bike was upright. One moment calmness and precision, the next the bars were knocking from stop to stop. The bike was still accelerating, as the ton came up the flutters died down and by the time we were doing a ton-twenty the front end felt glued to the tarmac again.
The back end didn't. A bit of shimmering, a touch of looseness and the impression that at any moment it might just turn vicious. When I later checked the tyre over, the Japlop was unevenly worn across its carcass. When I checked wheel alignment it was slightly out but spot on according to the adjusters. Unfortunately, the tyre was so worn that it would never recover an even tread pattern and the handling didn't improve until I fitted a brand new pair of Metz's.
Even then the front end wobble persisted, although the back end felt rock solid. However, it almost always died out if I accelerated through it, became a party trick that would have unwary pillions dropping a load! The only problem with that was the time I took a really fat mate on the back and the wobbles didn't die out. Not that surprising because his weight practically had the bike in permanent wheelie mode and he could barely be squeezed on to the minimal pillion perch.
The front end was in a real 100mph frenzy under this abuse. The bars were practically wrenched out of my hands and it was only the sudden loosening of my grip on the throttle that saved us. The CBR has strong engine braking, and the sudden lack of revs allowed us to loose speed rapidly but not so viciously that it made the wobbling any worse. Still, we almost came off, and the poor old pillion was literally spitting blood, having bitten his tongue during a panic attack.
It did my standing in the local motorcycle community no end of good, as he went around telling everyone I was so mad I should be locked away. Nothing like a bit of madness to get the girls lining up for a stint on the pillion. The CBR could feel really constipated two-up, needed the throttle and gearbox hammered mercilessly.
As mentioned, the gearchange was an invention of the devil's, guaranteed to make as many false neutrals as clean changes. This ain't a good idea when you're revving the motor to sixteen thou, although the young ladies willing to splay themselves on the pillion reckoned that the tingles at 20,000 revs had them thinking the Honda was a high speed dildo! I never had any trouble getting me end away.
There were several consequences to the constant high speed battering that the mill took. By far the worst was the cracked down-pipe on the exhaust, which had the immediate effect of sending the motor into a fit of the stutters and the long term consequence of reducing the whole exhaust system to dust when I tried to remove it. I also ruined all the collets' screw-threads in the head!
As can be imagined, this is such a rare model that it's not easy to find a replacement, although if I wanted to blow 400 sovs I could have ordered a new one from Japan via a grey importer. An end can off a GPZ500 looked vaguely similar, whilst the small amount of remaining down-pipes were welded to a couple of bits of tubing out of some old 4-1's that the local breaker let me have for a tenner. The result would have won some applause from Heath Robinson, but appeared to work rather well, as it mirrored the essential dimensions of the old one.
Going back to caning the engine, other hassles were heavy oil consumption - an empty sump in 500 miles of thrashing - and terrible fuel consumption - 30 to 35mpg. Despite its age and high revs, engine maintenance was miraculously minimal, just do the filter and oil, the rest seemed to look after itself. It took 6000 miles before the exhaust went down but only 700 miles until the engine, er, melted...
It happened like this. A rare sunny Sunday Autumn afternoon, me and my mates deciding a ride out into the country would be just the thing. Load up with the fuel and women, hammer the throttle and head en masse out of London.
Mostly 250/400 replica's, both fierce little strokers and wailing four strokes. We made a wild pace, no-one wanting to be seen as a wimp, which meant riding on the throttle and gearbox in the 90-120mph range. That is, thrashing the balls off the CBR. This didn't worry me at the time, it positively seemed to thrive on revs, being ultra smooth at 15000rpm, feeling like this was a spot in the range where it was designed to fiercely hum along all day long.
Handling on the Metz's was close to excellent. I felt I could heel the bike so far over that the bird was going to pop off the pillion, a feeling she shared judging by the way she clung on to me. I wouldn't say that the Honda was in any way inferior to the modern rep's in its handling, although it obviously lacked urge compared to either the 400 fours or the stroker 250's, but given some curves I could more than make up that deficit by going into my crazy mode.
I was really getting into the bike - you know, when the thing feels like an extension of your limbs and you don't even have to think about it, the bike just goes where it should almost on automatic pilot. I was pushing the motor to sixteen thou in fourth gear, trying to stay in the slipstream of a CBR400, clicked up to fifth only to hit on a false neutral.
It was like losing an erection whilst deep inside some nubile, completely ruined my day. The CBR didn't have any kind of rev limiter...well, if you exclude the valves clouting the pistons! It probably touched rather more than twenty thou as I'd kept the throttle wide open. Even so, the valves didn't touch the pistons, and for a few moments I thought the engine had survived the slaughter.
It soon became apparent that something serious had gone down, though, the engine just wouldn't pull and my mate behind gave me a soliloquy on his horn, as he didn't like being engulfed by clouds of engine smoke. I pulled over, everyone else pulled up or came back from out ahead.
Day ruined, some brave soul agreed to tow us back. Don't do this, the piss-head on the ZXR400 rode like a lunatic with us flapping behind in a series of near suicidal wobbles. We reached home in one piece, but I think only because God wanted to punish me further - the engine strip revealed four holed pistons and ruined main bearings. The gearbox selectors were also well bent, and teeth were missing off some of the cogs. In effect, the engine was a complete write-off. It's not the kind of bike you pop down to the local breaker and ask for a cheap replacement motor, either.
What was left was sold as spares, netting about £400. That left me well down over a mere eight months of riding. It was probably the non-standard exhaust that ultimately did for the machine, which just shows you can't be too careful with old Japs, however high tech they might be.
Mike Ross