1991 Honda CB-1
As much pride as I gleamed through my fishmonger duties at Sainsburys, mainly from the fruitful rapport I had managed to accrue with both customers and staff over the 3 years stuck behind the slimy turbot, repulsive conger heads and disgracefully fat, farmed salmon, when the opportunity to take up a position at Gatwick airport appeared, I grabbed it. Of course there were financial incentives and also the chance to try my hand at something new, but my decision was taken primarily because by moving my work situation 80 miles from my home meant that I could justify spending all of my savings on a motorbike. This was to be my first proper bike, having slowly clawed my way up the hierarchy of power and style over many years…Starting with a dilapidated Honda H100, I moved next onto a boy racer tzr125, then to a haggard Yamaha xt250. By the time I reached Australia in 2000 I had ridden a reliable but thoroughly anaemic bajaj 350 along the Goan coastline and dodged the hedonistic tourists in Thailand on an 125cc Vespa, and so when I settled down in Melbourne I ‘treated’ myself to a bombed out 89’ Suzuki gsx 250. Of all those bikes, I most adored and enjoyed the tzr125 due to it’s remarkable cornering abilities and frenetic acceleration. So when it came round to buying a decent sized bike, anything in the sporty 400cc range was going to prove exhilarating.
With 700 pounds to spend, my options appeared wide and far reaching and I was ecstatic to find- on ebay– an auction for a locally based 91’ Honda Cb-1. I had never heard of the model, but it looked delightful and came with a long MOT. With only several minutes of auction to spare there was no time available for research. All I could do was grit my teeth and bid. And bid I did, winning the naked baby sports-bike in the final seconds with my maximum offer of 700 pounds. The previous owner turned out to be one of my old regulars from Sainsburys and I was thankful to hear that he had always been impressed with my service. The bike hadn’t been used for over a year, but a recent overhaul of the carbs and two new tyres, together with the MOT, filled me with confidence that I had made a plum acquisition. The ‘buy first, check later’ policy had in the past proved costly and irritating, but on this occasion I was lucky. My first turn of the throttle produced more revs on the dials than I thought possible of a 400cc rocket. The red line was set at 13500. I was extremely happy to hear the news that ‘this engine is basically a cbr400r model’ because I knew of the CBR, not mechanically but through reputation as fast and reliable.
After the first moment we met, the CB-1 and I became inseparable. I was enthralled by it’s manic acceleration and the top speed was far higher than I had managed on any of my previous two wheeled steeds. Not only was the power immensely satisfying but the bike’s ability to be thrown into corners as if I was Valentino’s doppelganger forced a grin to develop on my face which didn’t evaporate until a year later when I sold the bike to finance my escape route back to that barren hunk of rock on the edge of civilization , Australia.
I rode the CB-1 in all weather conditions. And the manner in which the engine relentlessly begged to be allowed to fulfil it’s terrifying potential, through rain, wind and snow, was truly admirable. The bike was originally designed for the Jap market and I guess at 5ft 9, with a slim torso and catlike reflexes, I do resemble the ideal form that the engineers had in mind when they put this beast together. Of course it took me a few weeks to master the machine, but after the initial teething period, I honestly felt like the CB was part of my being. The engine was like a heart, the tyres an extension of my own feet. I am unable to adequately describe the joy I gleaned from riding that bike. It never let me down. And the only money I had to fork out was for repairs to the mirrors and clutch lever which were a result of
Brighton vandals. From the perspective of a rider, I had zero complaints. Only awe. Even in restricted 33bhp mode the CB was a devil’s dream come true.
When I sold her, I was palpably distraught because she had been a major part of my life for every second I had had the privilege and pleasure of owning and riding her.
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