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Normally, I would not have touched one of Honda's vee fours. I was between bikes, the vendor was desperate to sell and as far as I could tell the motor sounded alright. A 1983 job with some 44000 miles done in tatty cosmetic shape. Mine for a ridiculous £275. He had been trying to sell the bike for six months with no luck. For that kind of money I figured I could ride the bike into the ground and flog it off to a breaker for spares, hopefully breaking even or making a small profit on the deal.
I must admit that I'd become rather spoilt by modern bikes such as the CBR600 and GPZ500. Light, powerful, flickable and hugely enjoyable. The VF750 was the converse, heavy, constipated, unwieldy and underpant soiling if you didn't put in total concentration. That the disc brakes were past their best was pretty obvious from the amount of pressure required and the lack of braking forces. The brakes ringed, clacked and screeched whenever in use, as if the pads were down to the metal (they weren't, I'm not that stupid). . . . I sussed that the discs were getting on the thin side but had no intention of replacing them. Engine breaking wasn't much help, mainly down to its massive weight.
Honda gearboxes are usually a bit strange, the VF's was par for the course. Not helped by a clutch that was vicious in its take-up. The bike lurched forward from a standing start, dead easy to squeal the rear tyre, a rather dubious Dunlop that undoubtedly was ill matched to the Metz on the front. As they had plenty of tread left I had no intention of swapping them for something better. As it looked like being a long hot summer, I figured I could take the substandard tyres. I found it easier to take off in second than risk the first to second change which usually locked the bike into neutral.
Luckily, the engine wouldn't rev beyond eight grand even when pushed into a false neutral so there was little chance of tangling the valves. The watercooled vee four motor was way off its claimed 90hp, not really wanting to pull top gear. Second in town and fourth on the open road were the best choices, which limited the amount of wasted effort expended on the gearbox and also gave adequate acceleration.
Thus, top speed worked out at about the ton, fuel averaged 30mpg and just about everything over 400cc could show the VF a clean pair of exhausts. As the bike was about as fitted for scratching as a Cossack outfit the lack of go was more reassuring than worrying! The suspension was still stock, so stability was never going to be anything to write home about, the best that could be said for it was even when thrashed flat out on the motorway the weaves never came anywhere near a speed wobble. I actually rode the bike over a brick at 80mph (inadvertently, I hasten to add, not as some bizarre means of testing the bike's stability) which resulted in just a single twitch of the bars.
As far as chuckability went, it all depended on how well endowed with muscle you were. Eight stone weaklings would soon be turned into screaming ninnies. Hitting bumps midway through bends, surprisingly, did little damage to stability, the VF was so damn heavy that it would take an off the scale earthquake to upset its poise. Of course, on the really twisty stuff it was relatively easy to get the suspension all tied up and scrape large chunks out of the tarmac with the stand prongs. I even got the back wheel off the ground once, which produced a massive lurch and clenched buttocks.
After a couple of weeks I got back into the swing of things. Within its many limitations, I could cover distance at an adequate pace and not scare myself silly too often. If all I'd known was seventies fours then I might even have found the VF an impressive machine. Even in its worn state it possessed a Harley type lump of torque at lower revs that made it easy to rumble along in town in second gear, although the transmission was so shot that it lurched and clanked below 40mph in fourth gear. From new, with the full ninety horses available and taut suspension it had probably been an exciting motorcycle.
The problem with VF's was always their engines. Hugely complex, they soon developed a reputation for taking out the camshafts, even doing in the pistons in short order despite the efforts of water cooling. I had no intention of doing anything to the engine, I knew that as soon as I started looking in to it, one fault would lead to another and before I knew what had happened I'd have the thing stripped down to the crankshaft. Even if I had another machine for spares, I knew that the resultant rebuilt motor would not be worth the effort in terms of on the road fun. No, I was going to ride the bike into the ground and flog off the remnants.
That said, I knew the chassis was due to give some problems. The petrol tank was rusty on the inside, some of the plastic bits were half hanging off and the chainguard was threatening to fall on to the chain. But it was the silencers that were first to go. Sure, they were mostly rust, but free of holes. The first came from the underside, quickly followed by a long crack that threatened to split the silencer in two. Some tin cans cut into plate and jubilee clips were used to good effect on both sides. I had access to a welding torch but reckoned that the heat would dissolve what was left of the ultra thin metal.
The dissolved baffling probably did not help the carburation, which was full of flat spots higher up the rev range. The carbs themselves were never balanced, which did not help matters. The airfilter was full of holes but they were necessary because of the layers of accumulated crud, probably the filter that came with the bike! The battery looked ill with corroded plates and terminals, but still churned over a starter motor that made alarming crunching noises until the engine fired up.
I was doing about 2000 miles a month and apart from minor hassles was surprised with the way the bike ran along reliably if slowly by the standards of the race reptile crowd. I had to keep an eye on the oil level as it needed a litre a week, which was okay in its way as I never bothered to do a proper oil change. There was an oil filter in there somewhere but I was never inclined to change it. A big Honda vee four does not have much credibility as a hack but the bike appeared to take to its new role in life as its natural mien.
Appearance degenerated to an even more horrid level as I never bothered to clean it. Rust and corroded alloy broke out everywhere. Some of my friends could not believe that the thing was still able to run, but it did. After four months of this neglect top speed was down to 90mph and the gearbox kept locking into second gear, often leaving me with a single speed motorcycle. This resulted in some pretty horrendous vibes thrumming through the machine when wound on to 7000 revs in that gear.
By the time 54, 200 miles were on the clock I knew the end was near. The top ends were giving out enough noise to indicate that the cams were breaking up whilst even headier knocking noises were being put out by the crankshaft bearings. I knew what I had to do. When I drained off the oil I stripped the oil bolt, so had to glue that back in. Then I added oil so thick it resembled syrup. The clutch dragged so much that it stalled the motor on the first three attempts at engaging gear, but I got the old girl going.
Next stop the local back street dealer. The engine was still pretty noisy but nowhere near as bad as it had been before, there was at least a glimmer of hope it would last long enough to get out of the showroom (the dealer probably figuring on putting in thicker oil). The bloke went for a test ride, came back complaining about the gearbox, the engine noise and the handling. The tyres were by then bald, the exhaust about to fall off and the appearance truly horrid. After a lot of haggling I walked away with 250 notes in my pocket, well pleased with myself.
Dick Lewis
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The huge caravan was pulled along at a tremendous pace. The little vee-four motor whirred away frenetically between my legs. I had gone deep into the red in third just to keep it in sight. Then I'd had to do a double click up to fifth. Nine times out of ten hitting fourth would throw the engine into a false neutral. Tough as I'd found the VF400 in the past six months and 11000 miles I reckoned it wouldn't be happy at 15000rpm.
I hate caravans. Loathe them and the jerks who bounce them all over the countryside. Usually they block up the whole road by tottering along at 40 to 50mph. This one was doing twice that. The driver had planted his vehicle dead centre in the country road to stop the wildly weaving caravan taking huge chunks out of the hedgerows.
Even the Honda wasn't that stable on the rough road surface. Its 29000 mile old suspension was not far off being wholly defective! Only newish Metz tyres kept the plot from turning the weaves into wobbles. The tyres lasted over 6000 miles before the handling turned really vicious. When I'd first got my hands on the bike it'd had been very stable with a delicious willingness to flick its 400lbs through corners. Now, the fork seals leaked (they lasted about 2000 miles) and the rear shock was almost on its stops just under the rider's mass.
With 90mph on the clock in fifth the 55hp motor still had a burst of power and another gear in hand. I've had as much as 125mph on the clock. The Honda weaved about a lot but the motor was extremely smooth and the riding position still tolerable. I had no problems using the VF as a 100mph motorway cruiser. Well, none that a radar detector couldn't solve. And a large wedge of cash to cope with the 35mpg fuel consumption. It usually did better than 40mpg but not by very much.
It would probably go down to 20mpg, judging by the speed and revs necessary to take the caravan. I had great faith in the VF. I'd made so many escapes from narrow squeaks and avoided the dreaded tarmac rash that we had become old friends. I often ended up hating my bikes after a few months. I'd never paid more than 500 notes for a used bike. The handful of rats that were my usual lot invariably caused some nastiness either in engine or chassis demise. With the nine year old 400 I'd been relatively lucky, just having to clean off the corrosion and replace a few worn consumables.
A relatively smooth bit of road stopped both the caravan and myself from weaving all over the place. I was practically flat on the tank with the throttle wound home as we edged past the caravan. The car was finally revealed as a bloody great Volvo that was probably used as a hearse during the week. I felt like smacking the roof with a tyre iron as we rolled past. I knew that if I took a hand off the bars the VF would throw itself into a massive speed wobble. The Volvo driver didn't deserve that kind of free entertainment.
That wasn't the end of my dice with the car. The driver stuck to my number-plate like glue for the next 20 miles. I was forced to ride the VF way beyond the limits of its suspension to stop myself being run down. I'm sure he must've had the caravan on one wheel through some of the corners. I had to use the racing line through the curves.....hope like hell that no cars were coming the other way.
I only made my escape by throwing the Honda over a narrow hump-back bridge. The only way he'd get a caravan through the one-car gap was by knocking off the stone walls on the side of the bridge. The VF soared through the air. Revs rising as the back wheel lost contact with the ground. Hit the deck with an almighty bang, the bike slewing all over the shop for about a 100 yards. Half a mile later I pulled into a pub, sat there shaking and swearing for a long time.
A day later the hideous combination came roaring past me on the inside along the M1. I was battling it out in the fast lane with a Sierra that refused to give way. We were both doing the ton. The Volvo shot by like we were standing still. I caught a glance of a couple of kids waving at us from the back of the still weaving caravan. Talk about bloody daft. I decided to stay well clear, there was no telling what the homicidal maniac at the wheel might do next.
I once had to weave the VF400 through a procession of caravans over the Pennines. There was a mile long queue of cars stalled behind the wobbling behemoths, which added to the fun. Such terrorist antics the Honda handled with aplomb. The V-four was powerful enough to produce very startling bursts of acceleration and the chassis was just light enough to throw the machine in and out of gaps between the vehicles. Came close to knocking off my kneecaps against oncoming vehicles a few times. Most cars give way if you play chicken with them!
In a similar vein the VF was an accomplished hack for commuting through London. The only thing I didn't like was the sharpness of the front brake in the wet. London road surfaces can be very greasy and a front brake that would suddenly lock up often threw me into heart attack country. True, I never came off as the tyre rapidly regained traction as soon as the brake was released. A change of pads might help, but I've yet to touch the brakes at either end. Something of a record for me. High speed braking was a different story. Brake power was of the tyre squealing variety that produced some amazing stopping distances.
With reasonably coherent suspension it's possible to get away with some very wild riding on the little Honda. I've found the bike is something of a giant killer when there are some curves involved. Amuses me no end to give some five grand race replica a hard time. It helps knowing that I can bodge my bike back together for next to nothing if the worst happens.
Actually, it's more likely that the engine will give some problems than the chassis fail completely. The DOHC vee-four motor is a fearsomely complex beast with 16 valves, water-cooling and accessibility problems. The engine looks a complete mess to anyone used to the elegance of air-cooled motors or the functional lines of European models. My solution was pretty simple and so far effective. Keep an eye on the coolant level and change the oil every 2000 miles. My theory is that now the engine is bedded in there's no reason to play around with valve settings or try to balance the four carbs.
The top end, as in all Honda vee-fours, is supposed to be very dubious. With dire warnings about getting a dealer service every few thousand miles but a couple of those would add up to more than I paid for the VF in the first place! Still, apart from the dodgy fourth gear I've had no problems from the motor and it whirrs away like it's going to keep on forever.
I doubt if I could get very much money for the heap even if I wanted to sell it. The vee-fours have such a poor reputation that no-one wants to buy them even when they are low mileage and in pristine condition. I picked up one with a seized engine and a couple of dents for the princely sum of £80. The back pistons had welded themselves to the bores, only removed with the application of a chisel and bloody great hammer. I was laughing all the way to the bank as the cache of newish consumables was worth more than I'd paid for the bike. And, I will soon have suspension that works properly again!
The larger models may well be a pain in the butt, but the little 400 has been mostly a delight. The fact that they are saddled with a poor reputation means that reasonable ones can be bought for next to nothing!
Dave
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I've owned a 1987 Honda VFR750 for five years. It had 4000 miles on the clock when I bought it, now has 55,500 miles. Apart from a few scratches in the plastic and the odd bit of alloy corrosion finish is still good. The engine has not been stripped. It has had a dealer service every 5000 miles. I also changed the oil every 2500 miles.
I could've done the valves and carbs myself but felt that such was the complexity of the engine that it was safer to leave it to the dealer. To be fair to them, it always came back running better. It took about 3 to 4000 miles for the motor to start going off tune in the early days. Once 40,000 miles were on the clock it would run rough after 2500 to 3000 miles.
A vee four shouldn't have any vibration, but of late an annoying buzz has appeared in the 7 to 9000rpm band. Whether this is just old age or some engine internals on the way out only time will tell. Still, between oil changes there is no need to add any lubricant to the motor, which suggests valves and pistons are still in good working order.
Not so fine is the gearbox. It was always a bit clunky but nothing that a firm foot and bit of thought couldn't overcome. Nowadays, there's a bit of slop, some BMW-like noises and a second gear that often slips into neutral. It's very susceptible to chain wear. The OE chain lasted a remarkable 18000 miles. Replacements rarely did better than 11000 miles. A newish chain needed an adjustment every 600 to 800 miles.
This bike's most noteworthy for its torque. A great, continuous forward thrust of potency that works in any gear even in the most unfavourable circumstance. It is a heavy bike at 480lbs, which takes the edge off it even in the lower gears - because there's no vicious power band, the effect of the torque is less obvious than on the race replicas. It's dead easy to run along at 10 to 20mph faster than expected from the sensations coming from the bike and road.
The fairing does a lot to emphasize this experience. It's not particularly wide but gives reasonable protection to my body. I soon fitted a higher screen. The tiny one that comes with the VFR throws up too much air (and water when it's wet). It either gives a dose to the chest or head depending on how much I was into a racing crouch.
The taller screen flaps about above 130mph, but as I rarely go that fast it doesn't matter. Top speed is 145 to 150mph! I've done that a couple of times on German autobahns. There are few bikes I would try that on. The VFR instils confidence during fast riding. It has a lovely neutral feel both in a straight line and when banked over.
Wet weather riding was just as good in the early days. Two things could disturb its poise. First, worn tyres will turn it very susceptible to white lines and minor road irregularities. The steering felt like it wanted to track along on its path rather than the one I would have taken. I preferred Metzelers, could just about live with their 4-6000 miles wear. It was better to replace them by the time they were down to 2mm rather than trying to make them last for a few hundred extra miles.
The second wet weather hurdle was the front brake. Immensely powerful twin discs could haul the VFR up in a very short distance in the dry. They could even be used gently in the bends. Feedback was sufficiently intense to allow me to brake hard but avoid locking up the front wheel. I was impressed until it rained.
Maybe I expected too much. A small amount of lag combined with a lack of feel to make it all too easy to lock up the front wheel. It was worse in slow riding, several times I lost the front tyre on slippery road surfaces. A foot down and manic wrench on the bars saved me from any serious damage.
I took to using the rear disc and engine braking in the wet. The rear caliper seized every winter but responded to being stripped and rebuilt - it's still working. Keeping the front disc gently on in the wet helped with the lag but the feedback was still hard to understand. The front OE pads lasted for 22000 miles - I'm not a manic braker. EBC pads only lasted about 14000 miles but got rid of the wet weather lag.
After about three years the brakes had become very vague so I put in some new fluid. Slightly better. Goodridge hose made them brilliant and control in the wet became almost as good as in the dry. A year later the front discs had become rather thin, making awful noises when I braked hard. I found some discs from a 20,000 mile old VFR in the local breaker. They are still okay. I note that newish VFR's have an entirely different set of disc brakes!
I'm happy to say that the forks have not gone the same way as the brakes. They were good to start with - just the right compromise between tautness and comfort - and have stayed that way. To the extent that the seals are still original!
The rear shock lasted for about three years. It was a tad on the soft side so I bought a used White Power shock. It's so adjustable that it can be either BMW soft or Ducati hard. I've set it up so it matched the front forks. A nice bit of tackle but expensive new. Whilst I had the back end apart I put some new bearings in the swinging arm and linkages. They would've lasted for another year or so, but I was feeling responsible at the time.
These manoeuvres, together with a new set of tyres, cleared up a small weave that had appeared at 90mph. On many bikes it wouldn't have been worth worrying about. The VFR was normally such a fine handling bike that even the mildest of weaves was annoying.
I was also worried about the effect of loading the bike up with the normal complement of camping gear. Its reaction to this was normally imperceptible but with the bit of slack in the chassis it could've turned as nasty as a Z1000 I once owned. This would speed wobble if I put as much as a lunch-box on the rack!
No, with the revitalised chassis it would slog along country roads, tear down motorways and growl through town with same easy going, natural nature as when it was new. On that particular holiday it did start to run badly for about 150 miles. A lot of coughing and spluttering as if one cylinder was cutting out. The most obvious thing to do was change the spark plugs. What a laugh!
Tearing off all the plastic and tank was not my idea of a ten minute job. The plugs were not easily accessible and had I been less competent I might easily have stripped a thread. Worse still, even with new plugs it continued to run poorly. It cleared up of its own accord later in the day. In retrospect, either a poor batch of fuel or some grit in the carbs.
The above does illustrate one of the drawbacks of having a 16 valve, DOHC, watercooled vee-four. When something does go wrong it's unlikely that it can be easily fixed by the roadside. The other side of the coin is that it's so well built that it very rarely fails on the road. You pays your money and takes your choice. Or join one of the rescue services.
I had to use the AA when I had my one and only serious accident. It happened in the London rush hour. Basically, I hurtled down a narrow hole between two lines of cages only to find the gap disappearing. The VFR isn't bad for throwing about heavy traffic. The excess torque more than makes up for its weight. To avoid becoming crushed between two cars I tried to turn the Honda viciously into a sudden gap. The car decided to accelerate forward at that moment. The bike was caught at an angle, I was thrown clear and Mr Cage tried to run over the prone bike.
The damage looked worse than it really was. The broken fairing had wedged itself between frame and forks. A replica fairing and a few used bits soon had the bike running again. Quicker than the cager's black eyes went away, I'd guess!
Adrian Perry
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'Catch me, if you can,' I screamed at the GPZ500S rider, as I waggled past with the front wheel a good two yards off the ground, no mean feat on a VF400 that had a front end normally glued to the road. Great care and concentration was needed on the gearbox and clutch to avoid false neutrals. The wheel came down to earth as acceleration diminished after 85mph, though the bike still pulled strongly past the ton mark.
The DOHC vee four engine remained, as always, remarkably smooth, having both perfect primary and secondary balance. Even flicking the tacho into the red failed to provide any intimations of mortality, just encouraged all out thrashing on each and every trip. The chassis was up to such abuse, its 55hp fighting with 400lbs of metal more than a match for the GPZ500, at least up to 110mph when the VF would begin to run out of power and the 25% extra cubic capacity of the twin would allow it to zoom off into the distance.
Being cunning, though, I always chose to race with bigger bikes where there were lots of curves and few long straights. Here the VF usually won out, as shod with Metzeler tyres I could get away with outrageous angles of lean and taking thoroughly dangerous lines through blind curves. I rode to an imaginary strain of wild rock and roll.
It wasn't all honey, though. As mentioned, the gearbox verged on the demonic (this with over 30,000 miles on the clock), possessed a mind of its own that the hydraulic clutch action did little to subdue. When the fluid went off the action became at once vague and violent. As with most rotted Japanese alloy taking out the bleed screw was just asking for a stripped thread and getting all the air out of the system was about as tedious as trying to reassemble the corroded left-hand switch cluster after I'd spilt brake fluid over it. About two million springs and broken bits of metal fell out of the cluster, that not even much artistry with a tube of Superglue could reconstruct.
In just about every way the gearbox would try to spoil my ride, although there was quite a broad range of power for a 400cc engine. At a pinch, I could dump the box in fourth or fifth, ride along on the throttle quite happily - until I needed to blow off devices like GPZ500's. Then it was down to some mad footwork - well not mad exactly, as it required a sensitive boot and perfect matching of throttle to road speed to avoid missed changes. When the change went really wrong, the offensiveness of the false neutral was much amplified by the crunching, grinding noise of gears trying to tear each other's teeth off!
A brand new bike might've been better but Honda had a reputation for dodgy gearboxes on machines of this era. Needless to say, every time I missed a change, the GPZ sneaked past whilst I fumbled my way through the box, ending up with either a hopping back wheel or a gear so tall that even a Superdream could've pulled harder. In top the VF needed at least 5000 revs before there was discernible acceleration.
There was also an annoying resonance in the final drive when the motor was under load at low revs. This might explain why the chain didn't last for more than 6000 miles. Had the engine been less than silky smooth I might've missed the mild churning of the chain but it often seemed louder than the exhaust. The final drive was incredibly sensitive to wheel alignment, surgeon-like skills on the adjusters was necessary. Sprockets only lasted for two chains, when both they and the chain were in a final state of deterioration the gearbox became impossible to use.
The chassis would do a similar trick when the tyres were down to 2mm. Switch from an inspiring sense of security to a worrying twitchiness and sudden sensitivity to minor road imperfections. Happily, the tyres took at least 10,000 miles to wear to that stage, so the expense was within the bounds of my budget.
The past owner had fitted gaiters to both the forks and single rear shock, as well as extra mudguarding around the back of the swinging arm. Sufficient protection to keep the suspension and linkages in good shape with no apparent falling off in their ability, still able to soak up most bumps without letting the wheels waggle around all over the shop. They were much superior to even the suspension fitted to a one year old GPZ500, which would react with sudden violence to certain combinations of bumps and road camber, whereas the VF would just sail through serenely even under the most tremulous of road conditions.
Even when plunged into a false neutral, even under the ensuing back wheel neurosis when there was invariably a mismatch between road and engine speeds, the VF tended to shrug off the back wheel's intrigues rather than try to throw the rider off the road. For a 125 graduate its calm composure and complete competence would be winning virtues that'd save them from premature extinction.
On the other hand, the finicky front discs would have a novice rider on his earhole in no time at all. They just lacked any kind of precision even if they were quite powerful when used in anger. No amount of fiddling with the fluid, adding Goodridge hose or even rebuilding the calipers had any discernible effect on their behaviour.
Having quite a lot of experience with big bikes I was able to live with their unpredictable reactions and dubious wet weather antics. EBC pads made them slightly more demure but were chomped through in a mere 4000 miles. Winter riding resulted in seized up calipers every month, it taking about ten times longer than on any other bike I've experienced to pull the brakes apart. Had the forks shown any sign of wear I would've quite happily thrown on a better front end but as the suspension was so good it was too much of a waste to contemplate.
One curious bit of handling was that sometimes mild use of the front brake in corners would cause the tyre to slip away as it locked up, a stomach churning lurch resulting as I hastily let off the brake and twitched the handlebars. Neither engine braking nor the back brake were very impressive so I tended to rely on the way the chassis could be easily flicked on to a new line.
The excellent package of svelte handling and silky power can easily be ruined by engine reliability, Honda's whole vee-four range having the kind of reputation more in line with Iron Curtain manufacturers. Early versions were more rolling test-beds that proper production motorcycles, most of the problems centring on the four valve heads, camchains and tensioners. Valve clearances need to be set with a special tool, which given the massive complexity of the watercooled engine is really a dealer job - and a proper Honda mechanic who knows what he's doing (and charges accordingly).
My '86 model was the last of the line, leading me to assume that all the faults had been eradicated and such pedantry could be safely ignored. In 12000 miles of abuse all I did was balance the four carbs once, change the oil filter twice and the oil four times, working on the assumption that any valve troubles would show up in a drop-off in performance or by the intrusion of some vibration. So far so good.
I have ridden a couple of other VF's and was a bit startled to find some midrange vibration, so the sign of a good engine seems to be smoothness throughout the rev range. Most are high mileage now, therefore somewhat dubious, but for around £500 a reasonable example offers lots of kicks in an unusually practical package. I'm keeping mind for as long as possible.
Graham Carter
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Weird are the ways of the used motorcycle market. The local dealer had a B reg VF500 for sale at £2750! He'd practically forced me to take a test ride. Very impressive it was, too. But at that price no way. He'd take £2200 for cash with no part exchange. Dealers are very annoying in this respect, adding 20% on the prices of bike so they can give an excessive trade-in value on some old hack. At £1500 I might've gone for it, but I received a very nasty reply when I suggested this amount.
In the next day's Free Advertiser what should appear but another VF500. Same year, roughly the same mileage at around 25000. But only eight hundred notes! I went down that night to have a look, expecting some old hack but finding a fine looking bike. The engine sounded like it had a few nuts and bolts twirling around inside it.
It wasn't worth trying to ride it in that state as it'd lead to terminal engine damage. I was most annoyed to come all that way to find a motor on the way out. The guy was still keen to sell and didn't want to let me get away. I told him it'd cost a grand to buy a decent engine, so the bike wasn't worth much even though it had newish tyres, pads and chain. After a bit of a tussle we agreed on four hundred notes
The next day those kind men at the AA delivered the bike after I 'broke down' outside the old owner's house. Step one, remove all cycle parts in the way. Step two, remove engine. Step three strip engine. Er, major hassle with the head bolts being knackered slowed me down. Chisel and hammer blues. Okay, hold breath, take off cam covers. Cry! Yes, the Honda had wrecked all four of its camshafts.
Honda vee-fours have a bit of a reputation for this sort of thing and I'd half expected it. My mates reckoned the best deal was to plan a midnight raid on the dealers, swap motors and leave everything looking innocent. This devious plot, conceived by one of our gang whose elder brother spent his youth doing that trick with VW Beetle motors, was foiled by some fool buying the VF!
Breakers were visited who told me good cams were as rare as working GS rectifiers. One offered me £300 to £500 for the VF as it was, so I had a fall back position. Another friend reckoned the answer was to have the cams welded up and reground but before I had to enter the arcane world of backstreet precision engineers, an engine out of a stolen/recovered bike was offered for £450. Only problem was that the crank was knocking. The breaker was disgusted at the Honda's weakness, let me have the two top ends of the vee-four for a reasonable £150.
Armed with the special tool for valve adjustments, the far from useful comments of various friends who'd gathered to see me make a fool of myself and a couple of crates of beer, the engine was reassembled and installed within a weekend. This heroic deed lasted for about five minutes when a loose but live wire sent showers of spark all over the chassis. Whilst I was running for the door, having already spilt half a gallon of fuel over the engine, one of the other guys nonchalantly switched off the ignition key. If they hadn't all been so pissed it could've proved embarrassing!
The great moment came. Hit the starter button and pray. The motor burped for a while, then suddenly there was 5000 revs of vee-four howl ricochetting around the stone walls of the garage. We all cheered, leapt up and down in celebration. Five minutes later there was a hammering on the door, a neighbour screaming about it being two o'clock in the morning. When I switched the mill off every dog within half a mile, or so, was barking away like they'd all gone berserk. I was not the most popular guy in the street after that.
My happiness was short-lived. The engine would start, run and even blip into the red in neutral, but once out on the road there was a lot of surging and a disinclination to run at a constant throttle opening. Vee-four engines are famed for their easy running, low end torque and smoothness, but my engine lacked all these attributes. Caned above 6000 revs it was tolerable but as my commuting route was through heavy traffic this wasn't really viable if I wanted to reach my 30th birthday!
I feared the electronics were going down but I was told when they go everything goes completely dead. The carbs seemed the most obvious cause for concern. Could be gummed up from the bike not being used for a while, maybe affecting the midrange jets. There was some horrible brown gunge over the internals, probably from the additives they put in unleaded petrol. I tried various solvents and polishes but the stuff wouldn't shift.
Fifty quid bought a full set of carbs that took about two hours to fit as I'd forgotten where everything went. You could call me stupid, but if you did to my face I'd clout you! The motor was reluctant to start, due to a throttle cable snagged half open. After that was fixed it started within seconds, the exhaust sounding more urgent than before.
The open road beckoned in the form of the nearest dual carriageway. Rock on! The motor ran superbly, stability was as good as a ton of lead and handling was spot on! Whee! Over 70 horses, a svelte shape (at least to my eyes) and only 420lbs to shift. Gave stunning acceleration and up to 140mph on the clock. All my mates, who spent so much time poking fun at my choice of machinery, would have to think again. After speed testing came a blast down country lanes. Made me think I was a real hero.
The next day the horrible Honda refused to start. I could hear it firing on some cylinders but it wouldn't catch. One of the exhaust header clamps was loose, I must've forgotten to tighten it properly. That done, she churned into life and I had to make up time to get to work in time. Some big bikes just don't make it in town but as long as I made allowance for a limited steering lock, the VF would hustle away, on either one or two wheels. I ended up arriving at work early!
The next day the VF wouldn't start. I couldn't take that! This time the problem was more elusive and I had to grab the pushbike. I arrived an hour late for work. In the evening I deduced that there were no sparks on one cylinder. I tried a spare coil. Bingo! A nice fat spark. No, the coil hadn't blown, there was a loose connector under the tank. I suppose you get that kind of thing after the major disturbance of a rebuild.
For the next two weeks loads of fun was had. It really is a brilliant bike, with a desirable mix of low end torque and wild top end power. Good handling, an easy steering feel and a comfy perch meant I had nothing to worry about except burning off all the other vehicles. The only intrusion on smooth progress was a gearbox that tried to imitate a cement mixer and a drive chain that wanted to be reincarnated in a chainsaw. I usually left the bike in third, abusing the clutch when necessary.
I knew my time was up when the rev counter shot to 12000 revs and the banshee exhaust wail blew my eardrums away. Nope, the clutch hadn't burnt out, the gearbox had turned into one big neutral. Engine strip time again. A bent pin in the selector mechanism was the primary cause, probably the result of the stress of dealing with gears that looked like they had been attacked by a big hammer. This must be rare as there were a couple of sets of gears and selectors in the breakers. Mine for thirty notes, how could I refuse?
Back on the road, after another late night spanner and beer session, the VF had a gearchange so slow and heavy that it was surely worthy of a Panther big thumper. I had to wear my heaviest boots in the heat of summer. I went back to caning the engine and clutch in third gear.
That fun and games lasted for all of three weeks before the top end starting rattling. Was it just the valve clearances settling in? They were out but only because the cam lobes were wearing out fast. I tightened up the valve clearances, rode to the dealers who'd given me the original test ride and demanded an offer. The bike looked as near immaculate as a used bike can get and sounded okay (but would rattle again within ten miles). He offered £750, I laughed and demanded twice that. Ended up with £1200. That was okay!
L.R.
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I purchased my VF400F on impulse a year ago with some 13000 miles on the clock - it had four previous owners! I bought it because I was impressed by the favourable reports in the bike mags - Pocket Rocket, and four stroke RD350LC were among the accolades. One bike mag went so far as choosing it as bike of the year.
On paper, the VF was quite impressive, but sadly all the good things in life have their price and in the case of the VF400F that price is complexity - a watercooled, DOHC vee four, sixteen valver knocking out a claimed 55hp. 110mph and 55mpg were the result.
Other features include a fork brace, air suspension, fairing, silly bellypan, hydraulic clutch, 6 gears, typical Honda self-destructing camchain tensioners and those inboard ventilated disc brakes.
The biggest gripe that I am sure that most VF owners will have is the subject of home maintenance. As far as I am concerned anyone can service a VF400F but if you do not possess that important ingredient, patience, then you'll end up dumping it at the dealers at great expense, like twenty quid an hour for labour! The Honda manual costs forty quid.
Servicing hassles include removal of tank, sidepanels, radiator and coils just to get at the tappets, which are supposed to be checked every 3600 miles! Changing spark plugs involves frayed nerves and grazed knuckles. Fortunately, most VF400s are reliable compared to a some VF500s and earlier VF750s. If you change the oil at 2000 mile intervals and the easy to fit oil filter every other oil change, then you should not have any problems. High frequency vibes do get through to the rider via the footrests between 4000 and 6000rpm.
Back in 1983, the VF400 set new standards for handling and I imagine this is why it was very popular with some motorcycle journalists. How things have changed six years on and more than likely so will the handling of any VF400F still whizzing about on the original shocks, front forks and suspension bushes.
Typical, of those Japanese manufacturers, who produce complex rear mono-shock arrangements just for the fun of it, the lack of grease nipples on any of the joints means quick wear is the order of the day and deterioration of handling the result. Also, the single shock is usually perfectly placed to pick up all the road debris from the back tyre and chain.
It was no great surprise that the fat Showa air shock would not hold any amount of air for any length of time - you could feel the gradual falling off of the handling. The suspension bushes become impossible to strip out if they are not regularly stripped, cleaned and greased from new; necessitating a visit to your local Honda emporium thus enriching the staff and throwing yourself into debt.
The steering head bearings are not likely to last beyond 15000 miles, whilst the fork seals can easily be damaged by putting just a little too much air into the unlinked valves. What was once a fine handling bike can be burnt off by 125 Benly's around corners once the suspension wears out!
There are a few things that Honda got just right, like the adjustable anti-dive system on the forks, which have yet to be bettered by other manufacturers, even today. They really do make a difference.
Another big problem with the VF is that so few of them were imported. This means that there are few in breakers, which means that the other owners go around swiping bits off your own bike and you can't find any cheap replacements. It cost me £80 to buy a new pair of sidepanels after mine were swiped the other day! The other side of that is their rareness makes them unlikely targets for thieves, so they can be left outside the house with impunity. However, the same rareness makes 'em difficult to sell as few people know what they're really like.
In 8500 miles of use my bike has needed three oil changes, a front tyre, set of clutch plates and springs (the clutch went with 18000 miles up), fork seals and two sets of brake pads (partially due to a pattern set only lasting 1500 miles). OE pads cost £20, although EBC pads do last well.
Although my bike always starts first time and is usually reliable, there were times when I wanted to drop kick it into the nearest canal. For instance, certain tasks on the bike will have some mechanics quoting you ridiculous charges in the hope that you'll take the bike elsewhere. And when the clutch pushrod seal gave up the ghost at 21000 miles, I was horrified to find that the motor had to be split to fit it - I was quoted £200! I had to strip the motor down to basics and give a dealer £60 to do the final split to fit a £1 oil seal. It has to be replaced because there's an oil feed right behind it. The same applies to the VT250 and VF500. If you're going to buy one of these bikes do check the clutch pushrod seal - look at the exhaust collector box to see if it's covered in oil.
Little did I know that a loose tappet was about to cost me £350 - it had been adjusted by a mechanic who failed to use the special valve clearance tool that is required for use on the rear cylinder. The bike did 1500 miles before the tappet fell out and went for a walk around the engine. The result was total engine failure - valves, guides, camchain, tensioner and gaskets were replaced plus a machined cylinder head.
I also had a small problem with the electrics due to a fractured wire, but generally that side was reliable. Front tyre wear was ridiculous (knocking out a Metzeler in just 4500 miles), when the tread was down to 2mm the handling was quite noticeably affected.
Reliability is dependent on the way the bike has been looked after, regular servicing results in a dependable bike. Typical mileages that I have seen on bikes still running have been 25000 miles or less, although I have seen a despatcher with 80,000 miles on the clock. The odd breaker has reported blown engines with as little as 9000 miles on the clock!
That said, such is the poor reputation of the VF that there are many bargain bikes around if your know what to look for. As good GS550s, and the like, become difficult to find, more obscure and less popular models will have to be sought out! The question of long term ownership should be viewed with a deal of suspicion although it's quite feasible with modified camchain tensioners and proper servicing.
Nice surprises along the way will include the fact that it's cheaper to buy new OE silencers than a Neta or Micron, and that you can burn off many bigger bikes. Really, the VF is an excellent middleweight sadly spoilt by its rushed development and complexity. The engine is durable, civilised but ain't no fun to strip down, so you need to be an enthusiast to run one - do you qualify?
Floyd Taylor
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Cheapness and availability was all the VF750 had going for it. Oh, and it was in nice physical condition. And it just happened to run sublimely, that unique mixture of vee-four power and torque. So I thought why not hand over 600 notes and take a chance that it's notorious mechanical problems wouldn't arise. It's one hell of a complex device that demands, but rarely gets, dealer servicing.
The first couple of months went by in a blur of speed. It was the kind of bike that turned every ride into a permanent high, big grin time. I wanted more and more of its kicks. Although heavy, once under way the steering underwent a transformation, probably down to its relatively low centre of gravity. Combined with prodigious power, there was an excess of fun a mere twist of the throttle away.
The gearbox, alas, was typical Honda - all graunchy and full of false neutrals. Just as well that I could keep the engine in fourth for most of the time. Rely on a little clutch slip when speeds under 25mph were encountered - the clutch was a bit remote and grabby but I soon became used to it.
Of more major concern was the front brake. Twin discs that were unpredictable. Sometimes they were very powerful, other times they went into a disconcerting stuttering action. Of course, when I went to bleed the fluid the nipples broke off, leaving the threads deeply embedded in the calipers. What's more, one of the caliper's retaining bolts stripped the thread in its lug. Rotten alloy rules.
The local mechanic was let loose on the bike. Stripped and rebuilt the calipers, sorting out the threads, bunging in new fluid and pads, and getting the brakes working brilliantly. £77.50 for everything. Not bad given the amount of time and hassle he must've spent sorting out the mess.
This now gave a front brake that would screech the tyre and send the bike into violent stoppies. Great fun! Just the thing for impressing the local school girls. I gave up doing this after it bounced down hard once too often, crushing my marital tackle against the tank. I had tears running out of my eyes and must've looked a right sight!
Top speed was an indicated 150mph. Though the half fairing looks skimpy, I could crouch down behind it and actually feel the aerodynamics pushing the bike along. It seemed to enter a strange period of calm, the engine amazingly smooth and still a bit more power to come if I could find a deserted stretch of motorway. I only ever entertained very quick blasts at such speeds because the consequences on my licence didn't bear thinking about.
Not only that, but it takes an incredible amount of bottle to do those kind of speeds on a bike which is ever so gently weaving! I always had the thought that it was going to let loose in a big way, though it never really lived up to that kind of negative thinking. 150mph is bloody fast, believe me - horizons become very small very quickly and the cagers haven't got a clue how fast you're hammering up the road. Perception and reality do a runner.
Cruising speeds are just a matter of what you can get away with and how much money you want to spend on fuel. 80mph equals 40mpg, 100mph equals 35mpg, 125mph's roughly 25mpg and 150mph? - don't know as I never held it for long, but I'd guess 15mpg! Oil consumption was also high if the bike was ridden really hard - half a sump in 250 miles on one occasion. There were a couple of minor leaks but no signs of smoke being burnt off.
The same mechanic who did the calipers was willing to do the valves and carbs for £175. You need a special tool as the clearances aren't otherwise properly defined. As it was an expensive business I only had them done every 5000 miles. Apart from oil changes there wasn't anything else to do, so that expense was tolerable.
However, every 5000 miles, or so, the tyres went off despite having a few millimetres of tread left. The bike white-lined to an alarming degree and slid around on wet roads. It wasn't the kind of bike I had any confidence in pulling back if it ever slid in a big way. So over a hundred notes for a new set of Metz's. Plus new disc pads, although the chain lasted for over 10,000 miles. Not a cheap bike to run (fuel averaged out at 35mpg).
The bike was very versatile, though. It'll zoom around town, thanks to its instant power and relative narrowness. Country roads needed a bit of care but it was far from nasty. A-roads and motorways it took in its stride, that enormous surge of power making every car and most bikes look like they were going backwards!
Comfort was good for 100 mile journeys, needing a five minute stop for fuel and leg stretch, before the next session. On one memorable occasion I did over a 1000 miles in a day, all crazy high speed stuff that had me shaking with the sheer thrill of it all at the end of the day. I was in a permanent adrenaline high and if I'd drunk a cup of coffee would've exploded!
Over the months I grew to love the VF. It had none of the blandness that sometimes afflicts a straight four; had some of the character of a big vee-twin without ever having less sophistication than you'd expect from a Honda - I even learnt to master the godawful gearbox!
All good things have to come to an end. Or so I've been told. It took over 16000 miles before the VF's engine went down. It was my first autobahn trip - a testament to my faith in the Honda, however misplaced it might now seem. I'd been doing the ton-twenty, ton-thirty, for thirty minutes, or so, when there was a clunking noise from the engine.
Suddenly I was on a 120mph motorcycle that was engulfed in clouds of steam. I had to blast through the fat Krauts in their BMW's and Merc's for the side of the road. Luckily, my flow across the traffic coincided with an exit ramp. My rather unorthodox line must have caused no end of angst in the rigidly trained Germans, though when they clocked the UK plates it probably explained everything, at least in their minds.
In the end, I was coasting on the clutch, the motor seized solid. There wasn't any water left in the radiator. For some insane reason, I pushed the bike half the length of Germany into Cologne, where a Honda dealer offered me a 1000DM for what was left of the bike as he was a V-four enthusiast. They are expensive in Germany. I had about £400 after paying the train fare home. And, yes, I would buy another VF750!
Julian Harris
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