1972 Honda CB 500-4

Adapt or Die

My best friend Walter owned a '69 Triumph Bonneville (for more on this bike, see 69 Triumph 650). He rode it for many years despite its many quirks and deficiencies. This bike was usually a bitch to start, and whenever it did light up it was anyone's guess for how long it would run. It had leaky Amals for carburetion and depended on the prince of darkness, Lucas, for the electrics. The foot supports were bent and sagging with age and abuse, and the kick-starter looked even worse. Since the front end was slightly tweaked off

Walter on right on his Triumph

parallel, the handlebars were turned slightly off centre even though the intended direction of travel was straight ahead. I could continue, but I'm sure you have by now formed a mental picture of what type of ride my friend had. What you might not expect me to say is that he was reasonably satisfied with that Bonny. He had adapted to the motorcycle's idiosyncrasies, and most of its problems were barely noticed, except when pushing of course.

I suppose I can say the same about my Honda. I got used to its all or nothing motor and rode it very aggressively all the time. This riding style I had developed did come with a price though. The clutch was unable to withstand the constant abuse I was throwing at it, and started to slip under power. Only a little at first, but it became progressively worse, sometimes spinning for what seemed like eternity before finally hooking up. I would then remove the clutch pack and sand each of the fibre plates, trying to remove the glazing. That would work for a while, but before long they would slip once again. I tried new plates and then heavy duty springs, but the repairs were always temporary. Finally, I just adapted in frustration, and learned to compensate for the delay in transferring power to the rear wheel. My passengers were much less tolerant as I will relate to you shortly.

Racer Out - Tourer In

It was about this time that I joined my first motorcycle club, the York Wings MC. Riding with other enthusiasts was a whole new experience. I learned how to ride in formation with a group, and discovered many great new roads and destinations that I would probably not have had otherwise. I made many new friends, some lasting even to this day. I also learned that on the longer club rides, I would arrive beaten with my back, neck and wrists aching. It didn't take me long to realize that my bike was all wrong for the type of riding I was doing. It was time for a make-over.

I would discard the clubman bars for the last and final time and re-installed the original handlebars. I also returned the stock fender to its rightful position over the front wheel as it provided me with superior protection in the rain. The paint by then was getting shabby, so I once again re-sprayed the bike, but this time in a bright red. Then after hours, maybe even days of careful analysis and penny counting, I made the largest accessory purchase I had ever made thus far. I picked up a Pacifico frame mounted touring fairing that cost me more than many of my previous bikes had, and almost as much as the bike it would be connected to. But as it turned out, it would be an excellent investment. Not only would I gain significant protection from the elements, but also valuable storage space, and a location to install a car stereo. The fairing also looked damm good! Roger Hull of Road

It's a tourer!

Rider fame would have been proud.

To complete the transformation I purchased a pair of hard bags and a luggage carrier with a back rest. The back rest was designed to be adjustable for either the passenger or the rider when riding solo. With highway pegs installed on the case savers, the riding position was as opposite to my former café racer crouch as black is to white. Suddenly, I was able to ride all day with ease. The Honda had become a tourer.

Now if you were paying attention, you should be asking yourself what I did about that narrow power band. After all, a touring bike is all about making lots of miles effortlessly, and that doesn't include constantly rowing through the gearbox. Being the cheap bugger that I was (and possibly still am), the thought of paying twice for the same work and ending up with a wasted performance cam sitting on a shelf didn't sit well with me. Plus the down time this job would incur during peak riding of a very short season - well, I just couldn't have that. So I continued on with my high strung tourer, slipping clutch and all. My adaptation was complete.