One Man and His Bike (Part Two)

History is all around us. The remains of bronze age fortified farms litter the countryside like cowpats. Ancient rights of way persist as bridle paths and by-ways. As far as can be known, the peoples of our history were very like us. They were farmers, artisans and civic officials. As now, there were also brigands, thieves, pirates and con-men. They and their descendants sold carts with woodworm, ponies with croup, agoraphobic carthorses and the Austin Allegro. A sub-breed specialsed, latterly, in selling motorcycles.

Buying a motorcycle in the nineteen nineties is an enterprise with which my bronze age antecedent would have sympathised, if he participated in the Mesolithic equivalent of the free-market economy. He would share my anxieties over questions like "Can I afford it?", "Is it what I really want?" and "What is my wife going to say when I come home with it?". However, my excitement and anticipation conquered these doubts and it was with a steely resolve that I set about looking for a motorcycle.

Bikes (as I soon learned to call them) can be divided into lots of categories, but for my purpose there were three; too slow, too fast and about right. If I were to buy a bike that was too slow, I would become bored and frustrated with it. I would not enjoy riding it and seek to replace it quickly - a manoeuvre guaranteed to leave me financially worse off. The second alternative, a bike that was too fast, would scare the bejasus out of me. I would not enjoy riding it, be put off biking and sell it quickly (if I hadn't killed myself first). In my mind a 250cc bike would be too slow, and 750cc too fast. 500cc felt about right.

I researched by buying Used Bike Guide and Motorcycle News for a few weeks. I studied the small ads to get a feel for the prices. I read the dire warnings on buying and selling a used bike. I learned a little more about models and manufacturers and the strange world of of the British motorcyclist. (Summed up as "Speed limits mean nothing, getting your knee down is the ultimate thrill and all Volvo drivers are in league with Satan").
My research revealed that there are some very fast 400cc and 600cc bikes about, and it's all to do with the letter "R", as in "Racing". The Honda VFR 400R and CBR 600 are fast bikes. It turns out that "VF" stands for "Vee-Four" and not "Very Fast" but the "R" does imply a fair turn of speed. The Honda CBR900RR (with three "R"s) will do over 160 mph, so there you have it, the more "R"s the faster it goes.

The other thing I was looking for was an inexpensive machine. This was to be my first bike, after all. If I was going to break it, I was most likely to do it in the first year, and I'd rather write off the sort of money that wouldn't break my heart or saddle me with years of debt. Not too cheap mind, after all I wanted a bike I would be able to enjoy riding on, and not taking apart and putting it back together again. £800 to £1200 seemed the right bracket. Having sorted out my criteria, I set about looking for a 500cc bike without an "R" in it, for about a grand.

Bike number one failed on the first two criteria, it was a BMW R65 with a 650cc flat twin engine so it was bigger than I wanted, and had an "R" in it. It hadn't been looked after but had been subjected to a very clumsy fix-up before going on sale. Paint was splattered here and there, not all of it where it belonged. The wheels had been painted white, but with only one coat so the painted-over dirt could still be seen through it. Nevertheless I took it for a run. "Beemers are all about torque" they say. The engine sounded like a narrowboat's diesel as it thudded away. The bike leapt forward, apparently doing seventy in all four gears. If it had been in nicer nick, I might have bought it despite the "R" in the name.
The second was a "Nighthawk". This is a four-cylinder (in-line) Honda with shaft drive (like the Beemer) imported via America. The owner had just rebuilt the engine only to trash the gearbox. It was offered for sale with a replacement engine and gearbox fitted, plus the recon engine as a spare. I walked away.

The third was a Honda CX 500. Low mileage, maybe even genuine. Either it had been well looked after, or well fixed up. After the learner bike, I found it quick but not frighteningly so. I got drenched during the twenty-minute test drive, but I went home with a happy grin on my face. The next day I bought it.

Driving home, I went past the meat rendering plant between Rushden and Irthlingborough. The road was greasy and wet, and the lights over the hump-back bridge were red. I applied the front brakes fairly hard, but the bike didn't want to seem to stop. I started planning an escape route, then remembered the back brake under my right foot. As the bike, my bike now, rolled the last couple of feet to a stop the back wheel locked and started to slide sideways. I caught it and got my foot to the ground with room and time to spare. "This is o.k., I can handle this." I thought.
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