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Given that I had little money available and was prepared to spend even less, I settled on a 1980 Honda H100A - one of the earliest H100s with no rev counter and a fully enclosed chain - costing £260. Other 100cc bikes, including CB100s, seemed to cost more for older and more battered vehicles.
It was purchased from a dealer with a workshop staffed by two semi-literate chimpanzees (they were not even large enough to be called gorillas). However, it still remains the only bike I have purchased so far that was even vaguely legal and safe at the point of sale. This does not say much for my ability to spot wrecks, nor for the honesty of the vendors.
The little Honda was duly delivered and then suffered at my hands while I mastered the controls. It only complained by blowing some bulbs and one fork seal, all replaced by the dealer under warranty. Generally, the bike was in good condition and the engine showed little sign of butchery. It had only one previous owner who managed 14000 miles in five years.
Once used to it, the handling was quite reassuring and I only fell off seriously once - motorcycles seem to be even worse at ice skating than I am. The main limit to progress was the top speed of just over 50mph which did not put too much strain on the brakes (drums all round). These would stop the bike sooner or later, usually later. The rear brake, once correctly adjusted, was effective, but the front brake always remained a bit vague, even when the cable and shoes were finally replaced.
Even allowing for the bike having to carry my 12 stone bulk and loads of junk, I suspect that the low top speed indicated that the engine was worn even at this stage. That the engine rattled rather badly while warming up and would only pull away with the choke out probably confirms this.
Worn engine or not, the bike kept chugging away and enabled me to pass both parts of the test. The Part One instructors also use H100As and reported them well able to stand up to the torture inflicted by learners. It also coped quite well with frequent 70 mile trips to my parents. I used to give the bike a rest half way through, however. These trips were rather tiring on the rider, with wind sometimes blowing the bike over to the other side of the road, and details of every road undulation, pot-hole and manhole cover passing painfully on to the rider thanks to rear shock absorbers that didn't and the front forks which clonked over bumps.
If this wasn't enough to keep the rider awake, if not alert, then the clog dance on the gear lever needed to keep speed above 40mph if there was the slightest gradient or wind was. My usual tactic was to go flat out in third, quickly into fourth and, if the speed rose over 45mph, then into fifth. Speed then usually tailed off, so back into fourth and so on.
These journeys, on a variety of roads and lanes, usually took a little over two hours. I have never been able to do this journey in under one and half hours even on much faster bikes - in most places not much time can be gained by having the potential to do twice the speed of the Honda. If the pilot has even half a brain cell and has not been feasting on Dumb Flakes for breakfast, British road conditions usually dictate a moderate top speed and, anyway, grandpa in his brown Allegro with cruise control glued to 40mph waits for everyone.
Maintenance was extremely easy. Poking the spark plug and decoking the exhaust in a futile attempt to extract more power being all that was usually necessary - along with oiling the chain. It is, however, worth regularly changing the gearbox oil and checking the setting on the oil pump. At the same time check the condition and security of the pipes feeding oil to and from the pump. CDI ignition means nothing worthwhile can be gained from checking the ignition timing and there is even a little gauge on the oil tank to indicate when to fill up again.
I have no idea how frugal it was on petrol or oil as it never seemed to use enough to bother worrying about consumption, and the only other money spent was on two Jap Dunlop tyres (something like £17 each) - a replacement seat cover and a clutch cable.
On the ride home after passing Part Two, a ride if truth be told that was rather exuberant, the bike suffered a partial seizure, a sound akin to the engine working underwater and a sensation like five extra pillions jumping on behind me. The engine restarted after it was left to cool down, and the rest of the journey was completed at a rather more sedate pace.
This upset did not seem to affect performance at all and it was soon relegated to a back up role when I purchased an FT500. If any of you have suffered one of these specimens then you will probably know what happened next - yes, the H100 was put back into service as I attempted to sort out the butchery.
During this time I was engaged in research which entailed collecting large samples of conifer branches from a nearby forest. The little Honda was put into service here, trundling down rutted tracks surfaced with liquid clay during 10 months of the year, with a tottering pile of conifer boughs on the seat and rear carrier. As there was so little power available, setting off with this load was problematical - full power and a madly slipping clutch were necessary.
If during this process the rear wheel was on less than firm ground then the only movement would be sideways as the rear wheel spun out. Once moving, second gear was about all it could take in the forest. I can only recall falling off a couple of times and, perhaps, more surprisingly, never got stopped by the plod for imitating practices more usual in the third world.
When the FT was restored to almost 50% reliability, the H100 was put out to grass. Although it received very little maitenance I was impressed by the way it would always start easily after months of lay-up. Finally I got around to having a look at the engine. This took rather longer than expected as two of the bolts holding the head on refused to move.
After rounding the heads of both bolts, I drilled and chiselled off the head of one of the bolts, and the other yielded after I hammered on an obsolete socket to the remains of the head. After this, the rest was simple. The bore looked in reasonable nick, but the piston showed considerable signs of seizure and general wear (it was notable that with almost 20,000 miles the engine did not need much of a decoke). I just replaced the piston, which made some difference to performance and reduced some of the smoking.
After more months of idleness, I sold the bike to my sister, so she could learn on it. She replaced some of the stuff I should have done years ago - brake shoes, chain and sprockets. During this time the bike suffered from the attentions of bike thieves. One joy rider abandoned the bike in a neighbouring town, after cutting the wiring loom and dropping the bike at least once.
There was little structural damage and I had plenty of time to think up increasingly subtle forms of revenge as I sat in the mud that passes for a garden, soldering the wiring loom back together during a drizzling November morning.
The second brush, so far, with the morally subnormal, was altogether more bizarre. It, or they, did not steal the bike, only bits of it, including the top fork yoke and assorted nuts and bolts. These took a while to replace. We had the opportunity to replace the fork oil at this stage. The little men at Honda obviously thought they could save a few yen on the production line by omitting any method of draining the forks whilst they were on the bike. Nine year old fork oil bears a striking resemblance to rusty golden syrup, but is less liquid. The new oil made a noticeable difference to the handling.
Power was still lacking and my sister reported that it was becoming less and less capable of surmounting hills. The bike started to seize regularly and churned out huge quantities of smoke. An exchange top end was fitted for £50 and after running in the bike was transformed. It had ample enough power to wheelie in first and could cope with the 1 in 6 Bath hills.
This H100 has proved to be rather resilient and now runs well, although 10 years old and with a hard past. Consumables hardly wear out, the front tyre lasted 17000 miles, the rear 15000. The chain takes mammoth abuse and the brake shoes do not work well enough to wear out.
The evolution of the H100A into the H100S is not impressive. Gone is the fully enclosed chain guard, the oil tank goes under a side panel, a rev counter is added and the CDI is junked for points ignition. None of this made it go any faster.
During '86 a new edition was introduced, the H100S11, reverting to CDI ignition but with the biggest joke of all, bolt on down tubes to disguise the spine frame and, I suppose, to make it look like a proper bike; suggestions for further ways to spoil this bike will doubtless be gratefully received by Honda Inc.
Paul E
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Buying a 1987 Honda NS125F was the great event of my life back in 1989. It had already had three owners and done 27,500 miles. It came in blue, white and red, plus a large number of scratches and dents. The tiny bellypan was missing and the original exhaust was full of rust and appeared to have been chamfered down on one side due to exuberant cornering.
I had to have it, anyway. First kick was all that was needed to ignite the watercooled single cylinder stroker. The engine clicked and rattled a bit, but there was only a small amount of blue smoke pouring out of the exhaust. The bike felt dead right for my near six feet frame. I had tried an RG125 and been appalled at its smallness and the TZR was also all crunched up. The NS felt more like a 250 or 400 than a mere 125.
Controls felt light and smooth; suspension had amazing quality after an FS1E, but then that doesn't say very much. Now that I've owned a CBR600 for a few months I can see that the little Honda was very crude, especially the front forks which followed the contours of pot-holes and the like rather than absorbing them. The NS was made in Italy and came with Marzocchi forks which were more Italian than Japanese in compliance.
The rear end was to turn up the first serious problem with the bike. The Pro-Link set up was initially pretty good, taking out the worst of the bumps, but after two weeks the rear tyre started stepping out and a violent weave began above 50mph. The swinging arm bearings were shot. The local Honda dealer charged me £65 to replace them, after initially quoting £25. He reckoned he had replaced the spindle as well because it was pitted.
The Honda is a fairly mild bike and dead easy to ride. 12hp is made at 7000rpm. There is no real powerband, although it feels better once 4000rpm are on the clock. There is no need for an excess of clutch slip and revs to move off. It is, in fact, a very hard bike to stall. A new exhaust is needed to derestrict the engine, which is expensive if you buy a Honda one.
I have ridden a derestricted model. What Honda seems to have done is taken their normal model and stopped it working after 7000rpm by fitting a very restrictive exhaust. With the proper exhaust it is very similar below seven grand to the 12hp model, after those revs it screams mightily and takes off like no 125 should. Unfortunately, I had sworn on the good book to my father that I would not derestrict the bike - he was a keen motorcyclist and would occasionally use the Honda himself, so there was no possible way I could deceive him!
Top speed was an indicated 75mph. The bike was capable of cruising at 70mph all day long if you were willing to flick up and down through the gears so keep it on the boil in adverse conditions. Pillions dented the performance. On one occasion, with a fat bugger out back, and up a steep hill, the bike would do no more than 45mph. Under such circumstances, huge clouds of blue smoke appeared as if the engine was going terminal.
Pillions also affected economy. Solo she averaged around 80mpg, varying between 60 and 90mpg depending on circumstances. With a pillion on the back it could go down to 50mpg. For 12hp economy was not particularly good, but even a mere 80mpg meant that fuel costs were minimal.
With 35000 miles on the clock most of the performance disappeared and the engine made a dreadful racket. The top piston ring had become welded to the piston. Luckily, the bore was unmarked; remarkably for a little stroker it was still standard and within tolerances. I was able to get away with a new piston and ring set. There seemed a bit more blue smoke than when I bought the machine even after this repair but performance had returned to its original standard.
The same could not be said for handling, which had slowly degenerated after having the swinging arm fixed. Pumping up the tyres to the correct pressures helped a little but did not entirely eradicate the weaves and wobbles that I was experiencing down A roads. I let an experienced friend look the machine over. He diagnosed new steering head bearings and reckoned the pitted forks and leaking seals were not doing me any favours.
The new bearings took out the worst of the wobbles but the bike still weaved on fast bends. The wrap around rectangular frame looked pretty stiff, although a little dated these very high tech days. Working on the principle that stiffer springs would give the marginal damping an easier time, I fitted a set. Much improved stability was the result at the price of a rock hard front end.
Even the power of the single Brembo disc brake failed to produce any significant dive. This disc was allied to a rear drum, the combination able to produce startling stopping distances in such a light machine. Front pad life was a reasonable 12000 miles; the rear shoes were never replaced. I found that a pair of Michelin M38s gave the best combination of stability and grip, although I did think that a mere 8000 miles from the rear was a bit ridiculous. The front did 9750 miles, not very impressive either.
The only other consumable of note was the drive chain which had an easy life of it, lasting over 12000 miles and not needing very frequent attention. Engine maintenance was merely a matter of adding oil to the oil tank and changing the gearbox oil when the change started to become full of false neutrals. The gearbox was certainly slicker than that fitted to the CBR600. With newish oil false neutrals were rare although the change had become ever clunkier as the miles piled up.
Vibration was a background buzz and, with the miles done, was probably responsible for the exhaust downpipe cracking up. The paper thin remnants were artfully welded back together by a mate for a fiver. Tail lights were another casualty of the vibes; the indicators had been junked when they started flashing on their own accord. Vibration did not really bother me, I had done 400 miles in a day without being adversely affected by the buzz.
Comfort for a 125 was excellent. The riding position was relaxed in town yet able to take the travails of 70mph cruises. The bikini fairing was good for keeping the weather off the clocks but little else. The seat was okay on comfort, although after 150 miles in the saddle it was necessary to move around a bit. I had few complaints from pillions - they were either comfortable or so scared from my riding antics that they forgot all about personal comfort.
Various large items were bungeed on to the back without upsetting the poise of the machine, although it was remarkably easy to scratch or crack the plastic tailpiece. Rust eventually began to blitz the frame and radiator paint, although the black engine finish still cleaned up like new, as did the wheels which were relatively easy to clean. My mate with a similar machine found this annoying because his wheels and engine were a mess with half the mileage on the clock.
I pushed the clock to just past 52000 miles before I traded in to buy the CBR. At that mileage there was a slackening in performance, it was becoming a real struggle to get past 65mph. A proper rebore was probably called for. The NS125F had been a very easy and pleasant bike to learn upon. It has just as much style as the RG and TZR but is as user friendly as a CG125. Parents who are reluctant to let their loved ones loose on the screaming race replicas could do a lot worse than to insist on the Honda as a compromise.
There aren't that many about, which means finding a good one will be difficult (not to mention cheap spares in breakers). The obvious warnings apply as much to the NS as other 125 - they tend to get thrashed by people who don't know what they are doing and only realise they're supposed to put oil in them when the engine seizes. I wouldn't recommend buying one that has been derestricted (or has a noisy expansion chamber) as the increased power does nasty things to engine longevity. 50,000 miles is about tops for engine life - I later learnt from the dealer than the new owner of my NS had seized the motor after only 300 miles! I'm full of fond memories of my misspent youth on the NS, I hope you are as lucky if you buy one.
Peter Mapstone
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I'd often seen one of those funny Honda CN250s at the end of my street, looking like someone had squashed a scooter half flat. The middle-aged guy who owned it always ignored my look of incredulity and gave me a cheerful grin and regal wave as he whirred past. At least the handling was good enough for him to take a hand off the bars. On one occasion the bugger got the drop on me at the lights, my GN250 eating his exhaust fumes until he turned off. I thought it went too well for a moped and looking up its specs found that it had a watercooled OHC single that developed 17hp at 7500rpm. That explained all.
About six months later I came out of the house to find that some gerbil had stolen my bike. As I had to do forty miles a day I was desperate to find some wheels and the CN owner just happened to mention he might let the machine out of his hands for a suitable wedge. I reckon you'd have to be blind or on a particularly strong narcotic not to find the CN an extremely ugly motorcycle, but sitting snugly in the comfy seat the view was of a much more pleasant high tech LCD instrument panel.
Riding the CN was as weird as the feet forward riding position. The impression of lolling along on an armchair was emphasized by the need to do nothing more than sit there rolling the throttle back and forth. The automatic transmission had an astonishing fluidness, being a stepless design with rubber belt drive, giving an impression of electric motor dynamism and smoothness. Backing off the throttle gave strong engine braking that for most of the time made the brakes redundant. When speed was down to just below 5mph it clicked into neutral. The first few times this happened was a bit worrying as when it free-wheeled it seemed to surge forward needing a touch of the front disc brake to come under control, but I soon became used to this trait. After a test ride I could see why the rider was smiling all the time.
The weather protection and the engine/transmission package quickly proved to be, by far, the best parts of the machine. Were the engine and transmission incorporated into a more conventional motorcycle I can't help but think they would go down well. It wasn't the feet forward riding position that I objected to but the seat height that resulted from it. At 26 inches it was just lacking enough in height to make it difficult to see what the traffic was doing up front and in the wet the screen, which I certainly couldn't see over, made vision even more obscure as water collected on it.
The other interesting statistic relating to the chassis was the wheelbase, a huge 64 inches. Weight was a reasonable 345lbs, most of that carried low between the tiny wheels (12 inch front, 10 inch rear). It was, then, the sheer length that limited town manoeuvrability. If it'd been ten inches shorter and a bit higher it would've been much more fun around traffic, but then it would have looked much more like a proper motorcycle. The pity of it was that the motor was so easy to use that it would otherwise have been the most relaxing commuter known to man. In the end, I eased off a little, stopped trying to do the more crazed manoeuvres and got into work in exactly the same time with a massive grin.
The bike always attracted gawping attention both from motorcyclists and civilians, neither of whom would believe my tales of excellence, fun and relentless running. Anyone who has ever ridden a scooter will be right at home on the CN, as it bounces around on its small wheels in a similar way but it never turns really vicious. The trailing link front fork lacked a bit of feedback, inhibited brake dive and stopped the front wheel sliding away on wet roads.
Its length and low centre of gravity made it feel better as the speed increased. It would cruise at 70mph in perfect comfort, without any vibration, and with a marginal amount of acceleration in hand to the maximum top speed of 80mph. What would turn the chassis a bit leery was strong side winds that seemed to catch both ends and chuck the Honda around like a ship at sea. Backing off to 65mph steadied things and, strangely enough, even on nice calm days I was quite happy to cruise along at 60mph, an echo of the charm of the single cylinder engine design. Acceleration was better than most cages, commuter 250s and restricted 125s. More than adequate for town riding, motorways were hard work with any overtaking manoeuvre having to be planned way ahead.
The bike came to me with only 5000 miles on the clock. The only maintenance that it needed was an oil change at 1250 miles. At this point the washable oil strainer had to be cleaned as well. This was a ten minute job. The battery was one of those nice maintenance-free types that have been fitted to cars for years but rarely find their way into motorcycles. The only difficult task is changing the rear tyre, not only is it a strange size but to get the wheel out the exhaust and half the swinging arm have to be pulled off first. I never had a puncture but wouldn't like to have to do the job on the open road. The back end is rather cramped but it seems a poor bit of design, the Brits used to have qd wheels back in the fifties. The rear tyre lasted just over 8000 miles, the front about 12000 miles.....there was a bit of tread left at that stage but the handling had degenerated to the point where there were some slides in the wet.
The CN had one of the few fuel warning lights that was of any use, which was just as well because there wasn't a fuel tap. Not even a choke, all that was needed to start the engine was a press of the starter and it churned into life from hot or cold. Fuel worked out at 80mpg! The bike was so relaxing that I never really thrashed it and the automatic gearbox kept it in the optimum speed range for economy - there was no way it could be revved into the red. That gave a range of 150 miles before the fuel warning light flicked on, leaving three litres or just over 50 miles before the tank drained dry.
I would've preferred a bigger tank, as I reckoned the Honda was good for 250 miles before any discomfort set in but when I took it into the deserted countryside I carried a plastic container full of fuel in one of the cavernous storage spaces, so there was no chance of running out. At the moderate speeds possible I wasn't too worried about the wheels bouncing around over the bumpy country roads as they rarely got through to me and the bike seemed to track in the required direction.
The front disc and rear drum worked well when the engine braking was insufficient to lose speed, neither throwing the machine off line nor making the chassis weave when used in anger. The engine braking was so good, though, that I never came close to wearing out the pads! It was all part of the relaxed charm of the Honda.
I didn't really see any benefit in the feet forward riding position even after I became used to it. On long runs there was some strain on my thighs even though I was able to vary my foot position and in heavy rain the water whipped around the fairing, collecting in my groin. The pillion seat wins favour with even the most reluctant passenger, as well as being plush it has its own backrest, not that the CN's the kind of bike that will pull off so fast or wheelie that it tries to throw the pillion off the back. What I didn't like was the fact that the pillions sat eight inches higher than myself and I seemed to end up rather too intimate with them. Fine on a cold day with a buxom lass but not much fun with a fellow biker!
Apart from oil changes and tyres, there was nothing to do to the bike save run a damp rag over the plastic once a week, a ten minute job. At 21000 miles there was a strange noise from the back end, as if something was rubbing..... the CN was so quiet even at that mileage that the slightest noise intruded out of all proportion to its amplitude. After poking around it seemed the belt drive was wearing at its edge. The local dealer told me I should've put one in 6000 miles ago and took such a large wedge off me that he was probably grinning from ear to ear for the next week. The new belt drive fitted, it was all back to normal.
The CN250 now has 32000 miles on the clock and is still going strong. It's a strange bike to look at and to sit on, but amazingly simple to ride. If you want a relaxed, almost maintenance free and durable motorcycle that stands out in the crowd I can recommend this Honda.
Chris Larson
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Eight years and 26000 miles on a Honda NS125 have proved quite interesting. The bike was only six months old but had been crushed between two cars. Frame, wheels and forks were banana shaped. All were straightened out by a clever chap with a hydraulic press. I was impressed with the quickness and accuracy of his work. Still in 12hp form, I had few qualms about the chassis breaking up under the pressure of mere 70mph outings. I can recommend buying a crashed bike to anyone as it's proved a very cheap and reliable way into motorcycling. These days, new 125's cost silly money.
I wasn't new to the motorcycling experience, having hacked around on a series of tuned FS1E's - it's possible to put 55mph on the clock and very easy to fall off due to the pitiable front drum brake, not to mention that particular combination of madness and inexperience. In that context, the Honda wasn't that much of a step up, more a natural progression. In many ways the combination of improved brakes, milder power delivery and stiffer chassis made the 125 a much safer ride.
Safety being a somewhat vague concept in relation to doing 70mph down the local High Street and pushing things to the limit down the back roads. I was constantly surprised by the sudden appearance of wailing cop cars - rearward vision obscured by the ill-placed mirrors blurring under the onslaught of vibration. I was always very meek and submissive when confronted with trying to impersonate Barry Sheene (whoever he is?) by doing 75mph through a 40mph zone. Amazingly, this worked every time and after the usual tedious lecture I was sent on my way. The British bobby's hankering after power seems much greater than his love of paperwork.
The NS handled really well. Could be heeled right over until a boot started to caress the tarmac - any more then something would start to dig in, cause the bike to hop about. Chucking it from side to side needed hardly any effort and I found I could even brake late into corners with only the slightest of tremors from the chassis. The only thing it really objected to was skimming over white-lines when well heeled over. I tried several brands of tyres but they had no real effect. When the rubber let loose on the road markings it would swing out for half a foot, or more, until grip was regained. Easily solved by watching where I was going.
Twitchiness came in on wet roads. The bike felt like it was just about ready to aquaplane but never really went all the way. The answer was to ride sensibly, pick a taller gear and sedate revs rather than screaming up and down the rev band. The stroker engine could take this restraint without oiling up if Silkolene two-stroke oil was used and the spark plug chopped every 1000 miles (when it was a good idea to change the gearbox oil).
Slimy, pot-holed London roads, in wet weather, proved exceptionally taxing. Part of this was due to the need to pay more attention to the antics of the cages than the state of the road. Unexpectedly hitting a huge pot-hole had the front wheel all over the place, whilst my upper body received a blow that would've felled even a jack-hammer operator. Once out of the hole, the tyre waved all over the road for the next few yards. Quite often this happened between lines of cars and the bars would scrape off some of their bodywork. The chorus of horns were ignored as I scooted off down the road.
Other madness included trying to wheelie the beast, but in 12hp form it was a waste of time. No sooner did I get the front wheel a few feet off the ground than it slapped down again once the power ran out. The gearbox was notchy but precise if slow footwork was employed, not helping in the constant fight to extract power from the motor. Once it was derestricted, giving around twice the stock power, wheelies became easier, as long as revs were kept above 6000.
I think strokers are the business for learning upon because in soft 12hp form they ain't much trouble and once the test's passed they can be cheaply and quickly converted into a proper motorcycle. In the time it takes to pass the test the rider has the chance to become used to the handling and braking, making it much safer than just buying a bigger bike when the chassis, as well as the new power, has to be learnt all over again.
I can't say that I found the new power taxed the old chassis at all; it was just more of the same old good times. Top speed was an easy 85mph (on the clock), with as much as 90mph possible if the bike was really pushed hard, down a hill or with a following wind. On worn tyres there was a bit of a weave at speeds above 80mph but it never, not even when whacking into a few bumps, developed into a serious wobble. The chassis appeared built to a high quality, in all the years I had it neither bearings nor suspension gave any trouble. No doubt, its minimal mass and stiff frame gave everything a relatively easy time.
An example of the bike's ability can be illustrated by the way it'd keep up with seventies 250's, and the like. These devices might've had a touch more acceleration and power but show any of them a curve and they'd wallow all over the road. Oh, I had one hell of a lot of fun cutting them up on the inside, out-braking them into bends and accelerating away before they knew what hit them. Suitably enraged, probably thinking I was on a 12hp learner, they'd charge past on a long straight only to lose it all in the next series of bends. I went out of my way to take on bigger bikes.
Even some 400 twins and 550 fours proved easy meat for my ambitions, though they had to be two up to my solo status. Taking any kind of passenger on the NS made the power disappear rapidly (don't even think about it on the 12hp version) and made the back end wallow on fast corners (probably the rear suspension on the way out). The bike felt very nervous with so much mass out back. I'd also experienced that when I'd fitted a rack and top box, which did in the handling and eventually cracked up the rack (from the vibes).
Solo with a tank bag was the way to go. The latter was awkward to secure, often ending up so loose that I had to hold it with my knees until I could pull over. A potentially lethal distraction, as all my attention was needed on the road. The NS was a bit lacking in power for overtaking at speeds above 50mph and I always had to make sure that I didn't end up playing chicken with oncoming traffic. Some car drivers took a perverse pleasure in speeding up as I came alongside them and I didn't have the power to blast them off the face of the planet.
That was the one real constraint on life with the NS. On the motorway it was relatively safe, if a bit on the slow side, as their was plenty of room for overtaking and no oncoming traffic.
Comfort encouraged long rides. The riding position doesn't wreck wrists, the seat's comfortable for at least a hundred miles and the relatively large dimensions doesn't make a crunched up body necessary. Rival 125 replicas can't compete in this area. Five minutes on an RG125 was enough for me - what an abortion! The Honda's spoilt me, I think a lot of riders just don't realise how comfortable a motorcycle can be and put up with hell on earth out of sheer ignorance. Honda apply sensible ergonomics to most of the bikes in their range. Clever!
Not so intelligent was the front disc which corrodes at an incredible rate. The pads also wear out fast. The rear drum at least shows some form of intelligence from whoever designs the braking systems. Perhaps it's just English winters that cause the calipers to seize up solidly. I'm on my third (newish) set. Otherwise, the brakes are well up to the dynamics of the ride.
For those looking for a more sensible stroker replica, who want the style without the usual hassles (discomfort and peaky motors), the NS is the obvious choice. They are also cheap, nice ones available from £750 up.
Sam Lawson
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All kind of things went through my mind when I slung a leg over an H100S for the first time. In a school car park on a Saturday morning. The instructor had gone through a complex set of commands that had left me sweating. The bike felt both very small and very dangerous at the same time. I found the throttle and gave it a twist. Nearly popped my eardrums and the instructor shook his fist at me!
Was it up or down on the gearchange? How much throttle should I use? I managed to work out the front brake and clutch levers, the former reassuring. Gear, throttle, clutch...motor stalls dead! How to reduce a 32 year old man to a gibbering wreck. A few more tries, I finally hopped forward like a belligerent kangaroo right into the path of the instructor who was hurrying over to find out why I was the only one not in motion.
Judging by his expression, as he leapt out of the way, I'd been written off as the village idiot. However, an hour later I had a pretty good idea about clutch, throttle and gearchange coordination, could waltz through the bollards almost as well as the seventeen year old kids. At least 15 years in a cage meant I had plenty of road sense...
One's perspective from the saddle of a motorcycle is entirely different to that from the seat of a car. Roads that were previously benign turned into an obstacle course of bumps, potholes and wavering cages that didn't seem to have a clue. I was soon cursing them like a dedicated biker. It quickly became evident that I had to learn the survival path through this chaos, but it wasn't something that could be learnt in an afternoon, a week or even a month. It actually makes much more sense to move from a bicycle to a motorcycle rather than from a car. But I persevered.
Buying a six year old H100S off a neighbour was my next move. The guy was a bit notorious for selling stuff that was just about to break down but I had a mechanic friend look the 19000 mile machine over and he said all was okay. So I wasn't going to argue with him.
It all seemed very nice to me if a little terrifying when wound up to its top whack of 70mph. The main use of the bike was a five mile commute back and forth to work every day, but I soon found myself leaping on the little Honda just for the fun of it! The nearest and dearest went into full interrogation mode every time I disappeared for a few hours after telling her I was going to do a half hour run to get some practice in. The bike was rapidly becoming addictive.
Part of this was down to living out in the countryside, a wide selection of back lanes to throw the H100 through. It was summer, hot and sweaty, and a motorcycle was an ideal way to bop around of an evening. There were a wide selection of pubs to visit, many of them full of fifteen, sixteen year old girls wearing not a lot. I cursed the learner plates! But there you go.
One area where the Honda was literally in the Dark Ages was the front light. Bloody hell, the first time I rode in the dark I thought it was on pilot rather than main beam. There's naivety for you! The long summer nights and the wife's whining meant I usually came back before nightfall.
I don't know if it was me or the bike, but once the engine was warmed up the gearchange was like slicing through mud, full of false neutrals and even slipping out of gear when I thought I'd engaged it! It was then I found out that there was a separate oil supply for the gearbox, so I changed this but it only had a minor effect on the box's slickness. It was quite embarrassing to find the engine screaming plaintively whilst I struggled manfully with the gearchange.
Other than that, the H100 soon became pretty easy to rip around on. The last part of my journey consisted of a mile of city work, which in the car usually took longer than the rest of the journey. On the bike, it was a case of barrelling along the gutter and doing the odd twist and turn. I saved about fifteen minutes just on that part of the journey.
The first few weeks I was so cautious that I didn't come close to having an accident or falling off. It was when I gained some more confidence that I began to have some close shaves. Riding a little bit too fast for my level of experience, as I still had to think about my actions rather than rely on instinctive reactions. After nearly being crushed by a couple of converging cars, I decided to slow down before I was killed or maimed.
You have to be a real mad bugger on a motorcycle to ignore the signs of riding too fast too soon, though back when I was a youth I had a couple of acquaintances who killed themselves on bikes... must be a matter of age making me more of a coward. Experience before age, or something.
After four months, in which I did over 5000 miles, the engine was showing signs of its age. It would coke up in town, needing much throttle work to keep it running. Top speed was down to 60mph and economy went from 85mpg to 50mpg. Decoke said my mechanic mate. He then explained the rather arcane needs of simple strokers. Head and exhaust off. Removal of the former revealed a scored bore and when the cylinder was removed the piston flopped around on its loose small-end bearing.
The mechanic friend reckoned it was shagged beyond help! I cursed my neighbour but was relieved to find the solution was an engine from a breaker for £225. It was a simple job to fit, and I was pleased to find that the gearbox was a whole lot slicker though still not perfect.
By then I was well into the motorcycle game, having developed sufficient survival instincts. I was able to string the Honda along on maximum throttle for most of the time. I was ready to take my test and move on to something bigger, before I melted the engine again.
It was ridiculous to be reduced to a bundle of nerves at the age of 32 but that was what happened on the day of the test. I wore my silly fluorescent jacket in the hope that I would be mistaken for a real commuter rather than a wannabe hoodlum. The H100S ran like a dream and I passed!
As it happened, poor finances meant that the H100 ended up as my sole means of transport. So it looks like we are going to be friends for a while longer.
T.R.
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