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You can fool some of the people some of the time...about 25% of Harley riders coming towards me gave a cheery wave, figuring the high bars and laid back riding position redolent of their righteous steeds. No doubt they either sneered or laughed when their mistake was revealed. The thing was, I didn't really crave the American Iron - really, honestly! I'd ridden a few and they brought to mind Urals and old BMW's rather than anything to lust over. And, if you want a beautiful babe, buy a Porsche, the old slags on the back of custom Harleys didn't appeal either. I wanted to f..k ancient hags?
Okay, I will admit that the 1983 Honda looked a bit wimpy in comparison to the American icons but then it had only cost £995 from a friendly grey importer. Apart from finding the radically mounted footpegs, it was a breeze to leap on to and ride off into the distance. Any Harley rider worth his salt would've been swearing his head off at the lack of power and torque but this was due to the fact that it didn't really start motoring until seven grand, with its 42 horses peaking at a heady 9500rpm. In other words, despite the styling, here was a typical Honda twin that thrived on revs. Anyone used to Jap bikes would have a ball on the throttle, Harley devotees finding its lack of torque just another excuse to take a bloody big hammer to it.
The NV's clearly based on the VT400/500, with an ultra short stroke, watercooled engine that needs all of its six gears. As expected of a Honda of this vintage, all it really required was a regular, 1500 mile, dose of lubricant and a nervous right wrist to build up the revs. It came with 19,400 miles on the clock, three years later has 38,600 miles up, and runs just as nicely as ever. As far as engine reliability and longevity go, the VT/NV series is hard to beat. By far, the motor's the most impressive part of the package.
As to the chassis, it was a mixed bunch. As a custom allowance has to be made for its handling, which was surprisingly good on smooth roads and only let down by shagged, original suspension on the rougher stuff. With kicked out forks and 390lbs of metal to shove through the bends it wasn't the fastest turning beast on God's earth but once used to its ways I was able to make respectable time. Top speed was just over the ton, but the riding position limited cruising speeds to 75mph maximum. As my licence was in a precarious state this was fine by me. The cops tended to have a good laugh rather than lay any serious charges on to my head.
The main hassle with the chassis was the nasty front disc. There was a useful drum to the rear that was still shod with the original shoes, but the front disc was a serious piece of shit. No doubt when brand, spanking new it was a gloriously efficient stopper, but time, wear and corrosion added up to a lack of power and lots of shuddering.
The disc was going dangerously thin and had been gorged by pads down to the metal at some point in its life. Pads lasted about 7000 miles. Real finesse was required when using the front brake in the wet! Both the front wheel and disc appear unique to the NV, no easy way to find a replacement. Frequent caliper rebuilds, lots of prayers and equal amounts of cursing meant that it hasn't actually done for me yet, but there were many close shaves!
Given the machine's age, the finish was pretty good. A bit of alloy rot on the engine cases and wheels, but they cleaned up without much effort. Even the exhaust system exhibited few of the signs of internal corrosion. A happy early life in the hands of a Japanese poseur obviously helped. One side of the saddle has just begun to tear and the miniature front mudguard is a bit shaky on its mounts, but nothing serious or dire on the immediate horizon. I've seen five year old Harleys in a much worse state!
As I'm a short-arse I don't really appreciate the pillion perch being higher than mine, young ladies usually left towering over me. It wouldn't be so bad if I could dump the helmet, rest my weary head between their breasts, but little chance of that given the way the plod react to minor infractions of the law. The thick saddle is at least comfortable for both rider and pillion, showing up the lack of range from the 2.7 gallon tank (the bike does a not too reasonable 45-55mpg).
One minor problem, it would splutter and choke up with about half a gallon of fuel still left in the tank. Unleaded petrol it didn't like either, doing about 35mpg and not wanting to rev beyond nine grand. Poor engine running could combine with a truculent gearbox (especially after the bike had done 24000 miles) to make forward progress a rather tiresome business, totally out of line with its laid back appearance.
Because the engine always needed revs, those not used to the vagaries of aging Honda gearboxes won't be happy bunnies, but, as with most things, time and experience compensates for even the most nasty of mechanical contrivances. The state of gearbox is a good indication of the true age of the motor, many bikes in importers sporting false mileages - relatively easy to fake given the bike's good finish.
The bottom line is that they are inexpensive ways of getting in with the custom crowd, have more than adequate performance but lack entirely the expected vee-twin torque. Reliability is excellent, the finish better than most. You can get away with running them into the ground or lavish a bit of tender loving care on them, keep 'em going for ages.
J.L.
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The Honda Revere is one well weird motorcycle. But I had to have one. Back in '88 I saw a couple in my local Honda dealer's and fell instantly for its butch looks. I have always wanted a vee twin but could not contemplate the idiosyncrasies of wop machinery, couldn't afford the price of a Vincent and certainly didn't want to be lumbered with some ill making Japanese custom.
The VT500 was, rationally, an ideal machine for my needs but I just did not like its looks at all. The Revere had class but it also had a three grand plus price tag new. I knew that the VT500 was a reliable piece of kit and saw no reason why the Revere, basically a VT with capacity increased to 585cc, should not fare just as well.
When MCN revealed a six month old bike for £2250 I was on the phone in an instant. Turned out to be owned by an OAP who had decided it was a bit too fierce for him after doing only 2500 miles. Basically, he had done the tedious business of running the bike in and offered me a grand off the new price. How could I refuse it?
The bike feels really good as soon as you sit on it. Low seat, knees clamp a neatly sculpted tank, flatish bars and slightly rearset pegs. The narrowness of the vee twin engine allows it to sit low in the flash beam type frame, the resultant low centre of gravity and 385lbs of mass means steering is very light but yet perfectly stable. The shaft drive, I soon found, did not interfere with the bike's ability to whiz through the curves.
And what of the trick single sided swinging arm, I hear you cry? Well, that's all part of the weirdness. Undoubtedly, it's a strong item - that kind of design needs to be - but I suspect not much better than a more conventional set up. If my first reaction was that it's a bit of a gimmick, later thought and experience (wonderfully easy to remove rear wheel, for instance) allowed that in a shaft drive set-up a single sided swinging arm that used the shaft's housing as it structural member was quite efficient - the Revere is a light motorcycle for a shaft drive tourer.
Make no mistake, this is a tourer in the BMW mould. Indicated top speed is only 120mph, worse still, it's jolly hard work to push beyond 100mph. But any speed below that can be dialled in and the bike left in top with no need to flick up and down the gearbox. Incidentally, the box is quite slick for a shaftie, better than many a chain driven race replica Honda, even though you don't actually have to make much use of it. In a race with a VT, the Revere will only just pull ahead. Disappointing.
Another item that did not overwhelm me with its results, was fuel economy. Many a punter would be satisfied with an average of 50mpg, but not me. Not when that average was a result of fairly restrained riding and when the more gung-ho stuff dropped that figure down to an all time worst of 35mpg. I never achieved 60mpg but got damned near it on a couple of occasions when I was rumbling down some deserted A roads.
I think such poor economy comes from using a shaft drive with an unsuitable engine - that extra twist in the transmission must lose some power - and the poor routing for induction and exhaust. The rear header pipe is bent very sharply as it exits the cylinder head whilst the narrow space between the vee of the motor demands a single carb rather than the two items fitted to the Honda.
Extracting a mere 55hp from 600cc is the kind of trick manufacturers of British twins could achieve in the sixties and they did not have the benefits of the Revere's watercooling and three valves per cylinder. In fact, power delivery of the Honda is very similar to a Triumph 650 that I used to own, which used to average 60mpg. Admittedly, the British twin could not match the reliability of the Honda and at least the Revere is blessed with a large tank that allows 160 miles of riding before the need to stop for a refill.
And that's where the pleasure of the bike lies. It inspires one to take to the road and cover long distances in a day. Again, it's similar to a BMW twin in the way it will eat up distance. The seat aided by that riding position is one of the most comfortable I've come across - I've survived one 800 mile in a day bash with just a little stiffness. Between 70 and 95mph the engine purrs along in contended vee twin mode.
It's when you are tired that bikes like the Revere really come into their own. It's so easy to ride that I often have the impression I don't really need to be there. Just stick it in top gear, use the throttle to roll on and off the power, she will run around corners as if on rails - wonderfully neutral and light steering. Even braking, changing gear or backing off the throttle halfway through a corner would only produce the slightest twitch at the back end, as if to say wake up you silly bugger.
Over distance its sheer ability at the speeds most people are restrained to ride by road conditions and traffic laws means it will eventually catch up with the race replicas and leave their riders in its wake, screaming in agony from their contorted riding position. I really do feel sorry for them sometimes. In very tight going the bike can actually stay with CBR600s and the likes, until the road straightens and the race reptiles disappear off into the distance.
It's on long runs when the relative softness, but well damped, suspension comes as a great blessing. I have been amazed at some of the pot-holes the suspension has eaten up without the mildest of twitches as a reaction in the chassis. Lately, the rear shock has begun to pogo under hard going, so a replacement will be high on the shopping list. Its says a lot about the stiffness of the chassis that the bike is not perturbed by the combination of worn out tyres and soft suspension!
No bike is perfect and the Revere is no exception. I did not like the disc brakes very much. One is fitted at each end. The rear is grabby and there were times in the wet when if the chassis was not so good and the tyres not so sticky that the way it locked up would have had me eating tarmac. The front tended to fade when used in anger going down Alpine passes and the like - very disconcerting indeed, I thought I had left that kind of thing behind with drum brakes. Even under mild use the front disc gets hot enough to fry one's lunch upon.
I also managed to fry the clutch at 21000 miles. I was in France at the time but luckily it was still usable if I kept speeds below 65mph. The journey home was slow and tedious, the gearchange becoming disturbingly clunky. No great problem to relieve a nearly new one from a bike in a breakers and fit it to my pride and joy. The rest of the motor has been rock solid, even with 37,600 miles up. The three valves per cylinder are both easy to adjust and infrequent in their need for adjustment. The carbs haven't been touched and seem no worse for it. After chain driven bikes, that shaft is a wonderful indulgence. Apart from a very occasional oil change it has needed no attention whatsoever. Yes, I know if it breaks in the middle of nowhere I'm in deep trouble, but how likely is that?
Consumables are okay. A set of tyres around 7500 miles and brake pads 8000 front and 12,000 miles rear, the latter because I try to avoid using it. All the cables are still original. Electrics have been dead reliable save for a loose wire in the rear right-hand indicator that meant it went through half a dozen bulbs before I traced the fault. The original battery is still there and still able to churn the motor into life first caress of the starter button.
Unlike a Kawasaki GPX600 I once owned, which seemed to turn to rust before my eyes, the finish on the Honda is almost up to BMW standards - better in some areas as the exhaust shows no sign of demise and the wheels are much easier to clean. The bike gets its fair bit of tender loving care but it also gets thrashed through all weathers and I once set off in November for a two month cruise down to Spain - it was coming back to the UK that was the real shock to the system. Even at its mileage the bike polishes up as new.
Honda offer a set of panniers but unlike BMW they fit them so they stick out miles from the chassis. A very strange thing to do when one of the bike's main advantages is the way its low mass and narrowness allows it to be filtered through traffic like a 125. I would love a RS type half fairing, that would make it perfect for me. Quite simply, if you want a light, narrow shaft drive tourer that handles like a race replica in the curves there is only one bike to buy!
Derrick Jones
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Now that Honda have produced a 650cc model at 75% of the price of the old version you can imagine how pissed off I feel. My solution is to keep the NTV for much longer than I intended and never buy a new Honda again! Not that the NTV is such a bad motorcycle that it makes lengthy ownership a tiresome business. Just that after a couple of months the Honda was becoming a little, er, bland.
The 72 degree vee-twin has been around in various guises long enough to ensure a reasonable reputation for reliability.....the only problem I had was a burnt out clutch at 14500 miles. The dealer refused to replace this under warranty as I had refused his kind offer to take loads of my money for regular servicing as dictated by the guarantee. I could have hassled Honda for a replacement but it was easier to hit the breakers for a spare unit and do the job myself rather than write pleading letters to large corporations.
Why a clutch should fail at such low mileage is way beyond my ken, but I know some NTV's that have gone all the way around the clock under despatch riders' abuse with nary a moment of concern. I am even quite conscientious about changing the oil, checking the valves and setting the carbs every 2500 miles. Working on the engine is straightforward apart from some of the valves being hard to get at.
Running in was not so tedious. I set 4000 revs for the first 250 miles as a suitable limit. Torque from the engine was sufficient for staying clear of the cagers in town and puttering along our pleasant highways at 50mph. Fuel proved to be around 70mpg under such gentle riding.
As the engine loosened up the gearbox became less lumpy and starting easier. By the time 500 miles were on the clock it would whirr along quite happily at 70 to 80mph, although fuel didn't better 60mpg. There was a slight buzz between 5 and 6000rpm, whose resonance hit the footpegs in a worrying frenzy. By the time 1000 miles had been done, this effect either disappeared or faded into the background.
The motor has offset con-rods in a way that convinces the engine it's really a ninety degree vee twin. I wasn't that persuaded, there was always a distant impression of an engine working away, but not until I was taking the motor beyond 8000 revs did any frenzied complaint make its way from the engine, through the various insulation to my mitts or feet.
The NTV was perfectly capable of cruising at 90mph for as long as the fuel held out, but going any faster was pushing the limits of the motor's power output, not much more than 50 real horses. Pushing the machine to its limits put 115mph on the clock, the engine taking on a frenzied, revvy feeling, losing its more normal robust, laid back nature.
Head winds and inclines could rapidly rob the Revere of its hard won turn of speed. Cruising at 90mph, there was little power left for acceleration should some cager decide to amuse himself by trying to run me down. There was also the perfidious gearbox which when changing down from top with 90mph on the clock would throw the bike into a false neutral. It's just as well that these are tough engines, what with the motor screaming at 15000 revs!
That said, the riding position was near perfect for my 5'9" frame, with well thought out ergonomics that BMWs used to possess. 90mph cruising was perfectly feasible with very little arm or neck pain - it'd take more than 300 miles in a day before the seat or my muscles started to go off. Riding through traffic was just as easy, the narrowness of the bike from the vee-twin engine means it'll go through C90 type gaps.
Despite being watercooled, the clutch seems to overheat after excessive town use, making some ominous noises and throwing the gearbox into a temperamental fit. The solution is to stick the box into second gear, which will let the bike go down to 5mph with the clutch fully home, producing only the slightest amount of shudder from the shaft drive.
The latter, housed in its high tech single sided swinging arm, intruded a lot less than BMW's. There was a slight shudder on vicious take-offs and just a touch of rear wheel hopping on down-changes in bends, especially on quite bumpy surfaces, but these were minor irritants rather than major concerns. Given that it obviated all the nasty mess and maintenance of a drive chain, I would not seriously lodge a complaint in its direction. My friend with a FJ1100 was looking longingly at the NTV600 after spending a weekend disassembling and reassembling his back end just to fit a new O-ring drive chain.
The chassis was thoroughly modern with a wraparound frame (made easier by the narrow engine), mono-shock back end and fat tyres. The wheels were profoundly ugly but overall appearance was somewhere between functional and beautiful.
Handling was reassuring rather than dynamically overwhelming as per the race replicas. It's a question of taste whether it's worth swapping the Honda's secure stability for quicker steering that often verges on the twitchy. Weighing about 420lbs, despite all its high technology, the NTV breaks no new barriers - you could've enjoyed similar performance and less weight from any number of late sixties British twins. Albeit, without the Honda's lack of vibes and sterling reliability.
It's perhaps pathetic that whilst those old twins would regularly turn in 60mpg, the Revere, when used in anger, only does about 45mpg. Milder use will often return not much more than 50mpg. There are two obvious reasons for this - the extra set of gears in the shaft drive as the shaft and crankshaft aren't in line; and the convoluted route of the exhaust. The three valve cylinder heads never did much when they debuted in the Superdream series and probably don't help the NTV.
Durability has so far been reasonable. Finish has stayed good everywhere except on the wheels which are heavily into the white rash; and around the petrol cap where the paint has faded, even bubbled, slightly. The brakes proved less resistant to age, with the calipers seizing up twice and the discs themselves now looking perilously thin.
The brakes were tolerable rather than shocking in their retardation, worked better in emergency situations when desperation gave extra muscle to my right hand. They could provide enough braking force to twist up the front forks which were sometimes marginal in their effectiveness. Used to relatively old hacks, it was nothing I couldn't cope with.
It was harder to deal with the worn out OE Japanese tyres, at about 8000 miles. They had been rather good in the early days with none of the horrors of older Japanese rubber. But once down to the legal limits they became quite nasty in the wet. The front would slide away with a rapidity that almost caught me out a couple of times. A set of Metzs revived the secure feeling but they only last about 6000 miles; at least they were still safe with 1mm of tread left - don't tell me about it being dangerous to ride on worn rubber, tell the tyre companies to make their tyres cheaper or longer lasting.
I feel I can sling a leg over the NTV, hit the button and ride off on a 5000 mile tour without any worries about the bike getting me there and back. The only thing that concerns me over such a prospect is that a 1000 miles down the road I'd become so bored with riding the bike that I'd start to do something very silly just to liven up my day. This is a very sensible motorcycle!
Alan Kay
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I needed some wheels quickly, I had around £2500 and wanted something that would run relentlessly, not having the time, energy nor coherence to deal with some old rat of a motorcycle. I was still running some kind of debilitating fever from my African adventure, that left my hands shaking so much I doubted if I could hold a spanner let alone use it.
There was also the possibility that I might be forced to go despatching if a deal I was trying to cut fell through or that if a lot of dosh fell into my hands I'd want to immediately leave these far from fair shores. Within a week of returning I was so bored out of my head that I was badgering old friends for rides on their pillions, usually something I stayed clear of as they were generally crazier than even I.
One of these friends had proudly been showing off his brand new NTV650. He was quite impressed with the torque at running in speeds but he'd become bored with the lack of high speed power, complaining that he couldn't get the thing above the ton. He had the chance of buying a bargain priced GSXR750 which meant he happily took £2400 off me for the four month old machine (new they cost £3300).
The NTV650 is very similar to the old 600 vee twin, the major difference was that Honda knocked a pile of dosh off the price. They seemed to make up for this by fitting cheaper ancillaries which were somewhat at odds with the ultra trendy single sided swinging arm and shaft drive that was so well designed it didn't seem to intrude. After too many old hacks the NTV seemed incredibly sophisticated, with a vee-twin engine that was very smooth after the old boxer, had a gearbox of great finesse and slickness, and had even more torque between 2500 and 8000 revs.
Honda claimed 55 horses at 7500rpm and 44lb-ft at 6500rpm. The maximum torque figure seemed about right but the top speed of around the ton indicated that only about 40 horses were reaching the back wheel. Although the transmission has an extra twist in it to align engine direction with that of the shaft it's unlikely that so much power was lost getting from crankshaft to back wheel.
The poor power output was probably down to the three valve heads being hopelessly out of date and the strange exhaust system that ended in an ultra short muffler after going into a massive collector box. The way the pipe exits from the rear cylinder also hinders efficient exhaust flow. On the other hand, it may just be that Honda went for the real world rider who needs exactly what the Honda delivers on UK roads, a large dose of torque inspired acceleration between 40 and 90mph in top gear.
The Honda was, then, incredibly easy to ride. After some experimentation I found I could take off in third, use that gear for town work and then change up to fifth for use at higher speeds. The original owner, after I'd had the bike for a couple of weeks, asked how I was getting on with the gearbox. He was shocked when I said fine, saying he'd always found it a great hassle to change gear smoothly. I pointed out that I'd gone through a series of old hacks that left me feeling lucky if I did a hundred miles without the gearbox seizing up.
On the Honda I felt lucky if I did ten miles in the wet without sliding off. The OE Bridgestones I did not like one little bit. There was 5000 miles on the clock, they had less than 3mm of tread and they felt very treacherous, not really imparting any information as to how they were reacting with the road surface at town speeds. I could bank over hard in the dry, but on wet roads the chassis became very queasy indeed.
The wheels were 17 inchers, so there was a large choice of replacements. I got a good deal on Metzelers, which I knew wouldn't last long but that was a small price to pay for keeping the Culler frame intact. Jolly nice they were, too, letting me up the pace both in town and on the open road, whatever the weather.
What kept intruding, showing up where Honda had cut some corners, were the disc brakes, one at each end. Lack of outright power was the most worrying aspect, the hotter the front disc became the more the power faded away. It was like riding an old Honda CD175 hard, the old drum brake out front fading away as the casting distorted. On one occasion I was left frantically pumping the lever as it came back to the bars.
Running the Honda off the road in such circumstances was pretty nasty. Especially when the front disc suddenly locked as we hit the grass, the front wheel slewing away with great ferocity. 17 inch wheels are supposed to be the business, these days, but despite the fat rubber they seemed to react to circumstances in a much more violent manner than either 18 or 19 inch wheels.
It was an interesting contrast to ride a seventies Tiger with a 19 inch wheel out front. The front tyre looked, in contrast, as if it came straight off a bicycle. The suspension was so stiff after the Honda's compliant if slightly wayward stuff, that the impression of riding a rigid framed machine was paramount as we chugged down the road. But what a great feeling of security I had from the chassis, how well planted on the road it felt with so much feedback, so much certainty as to how the old-fashioned tyres (in shape not compound) were reacting.
What's more the 650cc vertical twin engine had as much, if not more, torque in top gear roll-ons between 35 and 80mph. True, thereafter, the bane of the design, dreadful vibes, buzzed the whole chassis in a way that no Honda engineer would tolerate, and it was an utter pain to my wrecked body to kick into life.
Coming back to the Honda after 30 miles on the old Triumph, it felt like total mush for a while. Honda had deemed it necessary to fit to their high tech single sided swinging arm a mono-shock, that even when turned up to its highest settings, was about on a par with those Fade-Very-Quickly units fitted to Superdreams. Come 8000 miles what had been mildly annoying became very worrying, as every time I backed off the throttle the swinging arm leapt up and down in a thoroughly crazy manner, the back tyre threatening to come through the seat.
It hadn't taken me long to put that mileage on the clock as business had necessitated a couple of mad runs up to Scotland and back. This basically consisted of putting the Honda in the fast lane, holding on to 90mph regardless of other traffic. Cars that refused to budge, and there were very few of them, after a dose of flashing main beam, were taken on the inside with a dose of horn and shake of the fist. A technique I'd learnt on the African Continent which didn't seem to go down too well with English drivers. A carefully obscured numberplate combined with not registering the bike in my name meant I could ignore hidden cameras and hovering helicopters.
As soon as some money came in I spent it on a decent rear Ohlins shock (at trade price but still wallet warping) and put a pounds worth of washers in the front forks. Aha, that was better, I could actually feel what the tyres were doing and the Honda gained a bit of an edge to its handling. It was heavy for a 650cc vee twin at 420lbs, but was easy to throw about and, with the suspension fixed, nicely secure.
Its new found handling abilities meant the front brake was even more highly stressed than before. At 9000 miles it started making clanging noises, the disc, which looked rather thin, was warped. The pads had about 1mm of material left and the pistons looked a bit scored. I was tempted to leave them on, run off the road and sue Honda for a few million, but the thought of having to pay some arsehole of a lawyer soon turned me off that idea. I must admit that adding washers on top of the fork's springs had not been a perfect solution as there was even less travel left than on the old Triumph.
My mate who owns a breakers reckoned he could fit a CBR600 front end he just happened to have handy for a couple of hundred quid. As he's a bit of a wideboy I checked the forks over to make sure they hadn't been straightened. In his youth he used to go around swapping old dogs of engines for someone's nearly new motor when they were parked up. I've never seen someone remove an engine from a frame so quickly. With that in mind I hung around and half-heartedly leant a hand (usually fetching the beer from the fridge).
A useful cash bonus turned up when some punter came in demanding to buy the NTV front end so the actual cost of the transplant bore no relationship to the transformation of the handling and braking. The CBR forks are both well sprung and damped, totally adequate to the needs of the NTV, and the brake is a pair of huge discs with state of the art calipers. On the road, just touching the lever gently had the front wheel screaming and it took a week or so to re-educate my right hand.
So, two months into my ownership I had a thoroughly modern chassis that was as good as any and better than most. What I also had was a motor whose lack of outright power was boring the shit out of me. As my body began to shrug off the effects of the African experience, as my reflexes came back to their former sharpness, as the shakes went away and as my vision sharpened to maximum intensity, I wanted a machine that would send me high with its acceleration and blow my mind with insane speed. Well, alright, I didn't want to kill myself or wreck my spine on some race replica, what I really wanted was 125mph and a bit of blood and guts. I'd had more kicks off an old GS550 Katana, a machine renown for being flash but heavy and slow.
It was pretty obvious that some tuning was in order. The most obvious thing to pull off was the exhaust system, which must've weighed a good fifty pounds. Unfortunately, no-one seemed to make a replacement. The downpipes were retained, with some neat welding from another mate, becoming a two into one but without the collector box, which was already showing signs of rusting through. Before I fitted a silencer to the end of the 2-1, I fired the motor up to see what it sounded like. What a beautiful bellow! Some lout hammering on the front door for ten minutes after I'd turned the engine off persuaded me that a silencer might be slightly less anti-social.
A magnificent pattern Goldie silencer was attached, revealing that the engine wouldn't rev beyond 3000rpm. It was pretty obvious that the whole air-filter assembly, another weighty item, could be pulled out. My mate in the breaker was raided for bigger jets, the existing ones seemed sealed in but were persuaded out with some mild engineering work (readers, I feel, are too squeamish for me to go into details).
To be fair to Honda, there's absolutely no way that the bike would pass the noise tests in this state, although it was tolerable below 5000 revs in fourth or fifth. Torque seemed similar below those revs but the bike had a real crack to it between 5000 and 9000rpm. It didn't quite pull my arms out of my sockets or stain my pants, but it would shoot through the ton in a way the standard bike couldn't hope to emulate, whilst giving out a bellow that was reminiscent of a vintage racer. It was highly effective in jerking cagers out of their reverie, allowing me to blast past them at 100 to 110mph. The speedo would touch 120mph, but by then some vibes were emanating from the vee twin motor, about on a level with a Bonnie at 70mph.
The stock bike had been doing 40 to 50mpg, I once got it down to 35mpg on a particularly twisty country road excursion. With the freer flowing exhaust and induction, despite higher speeds, it still managed 45mpg for most of the time. The four gallon tank meant it would run for 160 miles before it was time to search for a petrol station.
That was about right in relation to the comfort factor. The seat was okay, the riding position well thought out but ultimately the lack of a fairing meant that I took a real battering at speeds over 90mph. More than two hours of that abuse had me looking forward to a quick stop for fuel and leg stretch. In town or at moderate speeds the bike was so comfortable that I could go on for hours without feeling tired, helped by the easy going nature of the motor.At the time of writing, after a mere four months of abuse on my part, there's 12500 miles on the clock. The only thing to go a bit dubious was the gearbox which has become a bit crunchy but nothing a firm boot and bit of determination can't overcome. I've become so used to the relative sophistication of the engine that any minor irritants show up in a way that wouldn't have been countenanced on my more usual old hacks.
All I've done to the engine is change the oil every 5000 miles. As lots of despatch riders will testify, they are extremely tough, can go around the clock without needing a stripdown. Stock they are so mild that they make an ancient CX500 seem sporty (if incredibly crude) but that easy going nature is a bonus to DR's who have to spend eight or ten hours in the saddle every day. The new price is sufficient of a bargain to make it a good buy, used prices make it an even greater one. But after a month most riders will be bored out of their heads with the mild performance.
Al Culler
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A farm track was my first bit of off-road riding on the African Twin. Equipped with a big 750cc vee-twin, that had more than a passing resemblance to the old VT500, I wasn't too scared of becoming bogged down on the mud infested track. Developing 62 horses at 7500rpm there was also an excess of torque from 1500rpm up. It only had, and only needed, a five speed gearbox, first sufficient for very slow riding in town or on the rough.
With its huge expanse of GRP, and a full five gallons of petrol on board, the Honda felt a bit top heavy as the tyres squelched over the mud, especially with a 34 inch seat height and my feet being far from flat on the ground. The odd rock was absorbed without any traumas, the forks were equally brilliant at fending off the depreciations of the pot-holes on the tarmac.
As the road twisted hard to the right I found myself in a little trouble. The front tyre thought it was an ideal moment to skid away. The tip of my foot whacked the track as I tried to flip the bike back upright. It weighs 440lbs dry, nearer 500lbs with fuel, oil and coolant added. Once it starts going it needs a hell of a lot of muscle to put back on course even on the tarmac. On that muddy track I was way out of my depth. The African Twin and I parted company.
It was so slippery that no serious damage was done to either myself or the bike. The farmer took that moment to pop up out of nowhere, screaming abuse at me whilst waving a shotgun around. He hated motorcyclists coming anywhere near his land. He didn't help me as I tried to lift the Honda up, too heavy and awkward. I think the real Paris Dakar version is probably 150lbs lighter.
When I finally pulled the XRV upright, I was more than thankful for the electric starter, but not for the way it turned over for five minutes before it fired into life. The farmer was livid by then, the shotgun pointed at me as we skidded along the track back on to the road proper. I tooted the horn, revved the engine hard in neutral and then did a 100 yard wheelie, just to show him who was boss!
I'd had an on-off relationship ever since I got hold of it. It was, for instance, brilliant for hustling through town at a fierce pace. Brakes, acceleration and general handling ability were on a par with anything else and the vee-twin thrum was quite intoxicating. The ease with which I could get the front wheel off the ground also added some insanity to the commuter chores. My favourite act of anarchy was roaring up on to the pedestrian precinct with the front wheel a couple of feet off the ground, the wheel waggling around a little and a continuous blast on the horn keeping the peds in their proper place.
On the other hand, sometimes the Honda would refuse to start. It'd churn away on the starter for ages with the odd bang in the exhaust. Then I'd go away for an hour and she'd fire up first time when I came back. This really incensed me, made me scream off up the road on the back wheel. The engine was good for low end grunt but would also rev very hard to 8000rpm. There was absolutely no problem seeing off hot cars and most other motorcycles up to 80-90mph.
Like too many modern motorcycles, when I wanted to do something simple, like change the plugs to see if they were causing the starting hassles, it needed thirty minutes work tearing off the tank, seat, etc. Even then the back cylinder's plug wasn't exactly accessible - those of a nervous disposition would be shaking at the thought of stripping a thread. Even more hassle is involved checking the three valves per cylinder, but to be fair, in 9000 miles they never needed any adjustment.
Even with a brand new set of plugs the starting problem persisted. The one dealer I took it to, in complete frustration, couldn't replicate the refusal to start so couldn't locate the cause. As he charged me £50 just for looking at it and refused to hand the machine back until I'd paid up, I was pretty pissed off. Especially when the next day the engine was stone dead. I started pulling and pushing at what wiring I could grab, figuring it was maybe a loose wire. Aha! The bugger started first press of the button. That was the end of the poor starting.
But not the end of my travails. My second off road excursion consisted of following a friend on an XT600 up a mountain. This time it was dry, the suspension and tyres having more of a chance over the rocky path. We seemed to be travelling damn fast, I'd actually clonked up to second gear with 40mph on the clock. The mountain was becoming so steep that I thought if I tried to slow down the bike would turn over backwards.
I saw a flash of red as my mate ahead neared the top of the mountain, braking hard and slewing sideways. Before I had a chance to follow suit we were over the summit and flying through the air. I knew enough to keep the front wheel up, we crashed down into some thick bushes after dropping about ten feet. The landing almost broke my back. Worse still, I was in these shoulder high bushes with a dead motor and no apparent way out.
I could hear my mate roaring with laughter. When he recovered he scrabbled down to help me push the Honda through the dense bushes on to another track. The bike looked like someone had gone over it with a wire brush. Shit! I free-wheeled down the track and bumped the XRV back into life.
The overwhelming impression of the Honda off-road was of a lumbering rhino charging along destroying everything in its path. The plastic bits seemed quite tough, taking the odd tumble without falling apart but it was so heavy that I was always in fear of not being able to pick it up if we fell over. For days after that last excursion my back was hell and I was in a foul temper from the pain.
Other than off-road, the Honda had a wonderfully relaxed riding position, which with the fairing was as useful on motorways as it was in town. True, the fairing lacked width and height but it somehow managed to throw the worst of the wind blast around my body. Rain was a different matter, but I'd grown up on naked bikes and was used to wrapping up in several layers of waterproofs.
The only time I really cursed the plastic was in heavy sidewinds when the fairing would catch the breeze, bounce the front end around, giving terrible directional stability. Despite the long travel suspension, it was usually pretty stable even on rutted road surfaces, but with the heavy winds it was wandering over a whole lane's worth of tarmac. I was caught out twice in that way during a year's riding so it's by no means a massive problem.
I didn't go any faster than 110mph, though I felt there was a bit more left in the engine. Beyond 90mph there's a bit of weaving. It wasn't really frightening but the steering seemed very light and very vague, and if it hit a bump all hell would break loose. Below 90mph, though, it would skim over rough surfaces without throwing up any frightening reactions. It was one way, although involuntary, of keeping my licence in reasonable shape.
The mass of the bike was the limiting factor in tight curves. There was plenty of leverage from the high bars but quite a lot of the excessive mass was carried a long way from the ground. It wasn't an entirely natural machine to ride but it was one that responded well to a bit of muscle and hustle.
Well, most of the time. On one country road race with an FZ600, I was staying out in front by taking the Honda over at ridiculous angles and punching the gearbox back and forth between third and fourth. On one change down it didn't seem to engage so I whacked it again, found the box in second gear with a locked up back wheel. The suspension was already compressed and I was banked far over.
Somehow, I put in an almighty body twitch, getting the bike vertical as an alternative to falling off. Unfortunately, the road was still curving away to the left. Gravel, grass and mud the bike managed to take at 40 to 50mph. A large ridge it didn't like hitting at 30mph, but I hung on to the twitching bars, got my toes down and slewed to a halt. I could feel my heart pounding away, drowning out the thrum of the engine.
There was a two yard long skid mark left by the locked up wheel and a bloody great dent in the front rim. I could just about manage to control the bike at 10mph as we pottered home in a thoroughly disenchanted mood.
There was no way I could find the cash to buy a Honda rim but managed to have the wheel rebuilt using a more ubiquitous alloy rim. I was pleased with the fork gaiters and plastic protecting the front calipers but the bare O-ring chain, Pro-Link bearings and single rear disc were much less impressive in terms of potential longevity. The alloy swinging arm was better than the usual rust trap.
You won't get much more than 45mpg out of the engine but that apart it's been cheap to run with the pads, chain and tyres wearing very slowly. In town it's great fun and it's a capable tourer with good comfort plus a range of over 200 miles. Off-road it's a bit of a laugh, being shod with tyres that can't take muddy roads and enough weight to break spines and spirits.
Alec Doyle
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The fear came when the back wheel started to sink into the mud. The Transalp was running like a dream along a gravel track until I spied a fox. I thought I'd do my bit for the environment by chasing it down. I was concentrating on the fox rather than where I was going. That was how I ended up way off the beaten track with the back wheel deep in mud and the front on a patch of solid grass. I hit the throttle and slipped the clutch, leaning forward to try to avoid the tons of mud that was thrown off the wheel.
The gearbox took that moment to lock into second. Already covered from head to toe in mud, I jumped up and down on the seat trying to gain traction. Suddenly we hurtled forward, right into a tree. I was thrown over the bars, leaving a helmet sized dent in the ancient oak. Dazed, shivering and soaked through, I wandered around in circles. Muttering nursery rhymes to myself. After about half an hour I got ahold of myself and examined the Transalp.
The front wheel and forks were a little bent but it'd rattle along at about 5mph. My whole body hurt - neck, back, arm and leg pains screaming through my brain. I made the main road and a telephone box. Rescue came in the form of a mate with an ancient Cortina and trailer. We were followed by the police for a couple of miles but we escaped the usual interrogation. I stayed in bed for three days, shivering, sweating and screaming in terror. That was the end of my off-road adventures on the Transalp!
I had the wheel and forks straightened. The forks came with bright red gaiters but were long travel and a bit on the spindly side. Thus vulnerable in crashes. If I was buying another one I'd pull up the gaiters to check for crease marks. The ride was on the soggy side (this on a five year old '89 model) but useful over large bumps and deep pot-holes.
The bars twitched in my hands under any number of circumstances but the gyrations died out as quickly as the disturbance disappeared. I could sit through a lot of shit on the Honda because of the comfortable, upright riding position. An essential element after a year on a tortuous FZ600 that had my doctor threatening me with a hospital stay. These race replicas seemed designed to pick up on any weakness in the human body. I don't think you should have to be some kind of super athlete just to ride a motorcycle.
The Transalp's engine aided comfort by the cleverness of its design, which more or less eliminated vibration. A 52 degree vee twin, watercooled of course, with off-set con-rods that effectively gave perfect primary vibration. Variations of the engine have turned up in sports-tourers, trail bikes and even custom cruisers. Curiously, the cylinder heads were inspired by the Superdream's three valve design. It may not be the most efficient in the world but at least it's tough.
The vee-twin unit has proved itself as very strong over the years and few worries should turn up in the first 35-40,000 miles in standard tune. Thereafter look for cams, tensioner, clutch and gearbox problems. Well looked after bikes can do over 100,000 miles without too much trouble. That couldn't be said of DR bikes which are often relentlessly thrashed and neglected. The finish ain't brilliant, so it's quite obvious which bikes have been neglected.
A lot of the toughness of the engine comes from the fact that it's not very highly tuned. Any old British 650 twin could give the bike a run for its money (until the vibes and trail of bits falling off slow them down). There's not much point trying to do more than 90mph, which also turns out to be a reasonable cruising speed. The bike will hold that against most obstacles, although bumpy roads caused the Honda to leap around on its long travel suspension......I've ridden old BMW's that are more disturbing.
The overall effect of the way the elements of the Transalp come together is of an astonishingly enjoyable motorcycle. Its versatility and comfort shines through after the first couple of months. Initial impressions may not be so favourable, especially on high mileage examples. The loose suspension takes some getting used to. The transmission's rather vague, needing a skilled left foot. The high seat height and awkward low speed handling makes for an uneasy feel. Just persevere for a couple of months to make it all come together nicely.
My bike had a particularly nasty gearbox that was full of false neutrals. Not helped by a quick wear chain and too many aftermarket sprockets that were poorly made. The excursion off road had poured so much muck over the back end that the 3500 mile old O-ring chain was completely ruined. The chains and sprockets normally lasted about 6000 miles even under mild road use. I blame the long travel suspension.
Some of the wear was down to my infrequent wheelies. I could pull the front wheel a foot or so off the ground with ease, a useful trait when the road surface turned particularly disgusting. I know one patch of London road where the holes were filled in with tarmac about six inches above the normal surface. Looking like someone had just poured the tarmac off the back of a fast moving lorry. I don't think I could ride a normal bike, and certainly not a replica, in London any more.
I could weave and wobble through heavy traffic with reasonable ease, but at low speed the 385lbs felt concentrated high, especially when the fuel tank was full. In town the bike managed about 55mpg, maybe 60mpg if the riding was relaxed (rare, admittedly). In other conditions about 50mpg was normal.
One funny moment was had when the back cylinder's carb seized wide open. That left the engine trying to tear itself apart until I hit the killswitch. By then I'd run out of road, rambled off over a grass verge and the made a modernistic sculpture out of a bit of hedge. Full motorcycle gear protected me from the brambles and nettles but not from some farmer type who went into an harangue. These country people are not very happy souls, I blame the excess of sheep myself.
The Transalp was a bit scarred but not shattered by the experience. I clambered back on board, rode into the sunset with a silly grin on my face. The carb was quickly if temporary fixed by tapping it with a spannner. It did the same trick near home, the slide had worn way beyond redemption and a less worn carb was fitted (the old one had done 36000 miles). The cramped nature of the vee made it extremely difficult to fit without reaching for the crow-bar.
Both camchains were starting to rattle by 43000 miles, not brilliant but expected. These were easy to fit. Two camchains and tensioners cost under a hundred quid. The rest of the motor seemed solid so I saw no point in trading in for something newer.
The latest model has a sexier fairing than mine, which makes it look a bit like a rolling teapot from certain angles. Protection ain't that good, air and water swirls behind the screen at speeds above 60mph. Strong side winds and the slipstream of large lorries can make the front of the fairing flap around but it's not actually terminal. Stiffer suspension would probably eliminate this trait entirely. The back shock's still original! It's just about able to cope with high speeds and smooth roads, or low speeds and rough roads, but not high speeds on rough roads.
The Transalp was never too popular in the UK, its styling putting people off. Old ones go for as little as £1000. Less than two grand will buy a jolly nice one but mine ain't for sale.
F.R.K.
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