Dream Bike – The ExhaustNotes Blog

It’s Always About The Motors

By Joe Berk

For me a motorcycle’s appearance, appeal, and personality are defined by its motor. I’m not a chopper guy, but I like the look of a chopper because the engine absolutely dominates the bike. I suppose to some people fully faired motorcycles are beautiful, but I’m not in that camp. The only somewhat fully faired bike I ever had was my 1995 Triumph Daytona 1200, but you could still see a lot of the engine on that machine. I once wrote a Destinations piece for Motorcycle Classics on the Solvang Vintage Motorcycle Museum and while doing so I called Virgil Elings, the wealthy entrepreneur who owned it. I asked Elings what drove his interest in collecting motorcycles. His answer? The motors. He spoke about the mechanical beauty of a motorcycle’s engine, and that prompted me to ask for his thoughts on fully faired bikes. “I suppose they’re beautiful to some,” he said, “but when you take the fairings off, they look like washing machines.” I had a good laugh. His observation was spot on.

A 1200cc Harley Panhead motor I photographed at the Rock Store in Malibu.

My earliest memory of drooling over a motorcycle occurred sometime in the 1950s when I was a little kid. My Mom was shopping with me somewhere in one of those unenclosed malls on Route 18 in New Jersey, and in those days, it was no big deal to let your kid wander off and explore while you shopped. I think it was some kind of a general store (I have no idea what Mom was looking for), and I wandered outside on the store’s sidewalk. There was a blue Harley Panhead parked out front, and it was the first time I ever had a close look at a motorcycle. It was beautiful, and the motor was especially beautiful. It had those early panhead corrugated exhaust headers, fins, cables, chrome, and more. I’ve always been fascinated by all things mechanical, and you just couldn’t find anything more mechanical than a Big Twin engine.

There have been a few Sportsters that do it for me, too, like Harley’s Cafe Racer from the late 1970s. That was a fine-looking machine dominated by its engine. I liked the Harley XR1000, too.

A 1000cc Harley Cafe Racer photographed at one of the Hansen Dam meets. When these were new, they sold for about $3,000.

I’ve previously mentioned my 7th grade fascination with Walt Skok’s Triumph Tiger. It had the same mesmerizing motorrific effect as the big twin Panhead described above. I could stare at that 500cc Triumph engine for hours (and I did). The 650 Triumphs were somehow even more appealing. The mid-’60s Triumphs are the most beautiful motorcycles in the world (you might think otherwise and that’s okay…you have my permission to be wrong).

A 1966 Triumph Bonneville and it’s 650cc twin-carb engine. My Dad rode a Bonneville just like this one.

BSA did a nice job with their engine design, too. Their 650 twins in the ’60s looked a lot like Triumph’s, and that’s a good thing. I see these bikes at the Hansen Dam Norton Owners Club meets. They photograph incredibly well, as do nearly all vintage British twins.

A late1960s BSA at Hansen Dam. These are beautiful motorcycles, too.

When we visited good buddy Andrew in New Jersey recently, he had several interesting machines, but the one that riveted my attention was his Norton P11. It’s 750cc air cooled engine is, well, just wonderful. If I owned that bike I’d probably stare at it for a few minutes every day. You know, just to keep my batteries charged.

Andrew Capone’s P-11 Norton. You can read about our visit with Andrew here.

You know, it’s kind of funny…back in the 1960s I thought Royal Enfield’s 750cc big twins were clunky looking. Then the new Royal Enfield 650 INT (aka the Interceptor to those of us unintimidated by liability issues) emerged. Its appearance was loosely based on those clunky old English Enfields, but the new twin’s Indian designers somehow made the engine look way better. It’s not clunky at all, and the boys from Mumbai made their interpretive copy of an old English twin look more British than the original. The new Enfield Interceptor is a unit construction engine, but the way the polished aluminum covers are designed it looks like a pre-unit construction engine. The guys from the subcontinent hit a home run with that one. I ought to know; after Gresh and I road tested one of these for Enfield North America on a Baja ride, I bought one.

The current iteration of Royal Enfield’s 650cc twin. I rode this bike through Baja and liked it so much I bought one when I returned from Mexico. Here’s more (a lot more) about that adventure.

Another motorcycle that let you see its glorious air-cooled magnificence was the CB750 Honda. It was awesome in every regard and presented well from any angle, including the rear (which is how most other riders saw it on the road). The engine was beyond impressive, and when it was introduced, I knew I would have one someday (I made that dream come true in 1971). I still can’t see one without taking my iPhone out to grab a photo.

A 1969 or 1970 Honda CB 750. This is the motorcycle that put the nail in the British motorcycle industry coffin. I had one just like it.

After Honda stunned the world with their 750 Four, the copycats piled on. Not to be outdone, Honda stunned the world again when they introduced their six-cylinder CBX. I had an ’82. It was awesome. It wasn’t the fastest motorcycle I ever owned, but it was one of the coolest (and what drove that coolness was its air-cooled straight six engine).

A Honda CBX engine photographed at the Del Mar fairgrounds near San Diego. The CBX was a motorcycle that added complexity where none was required. It was an impressive machine.

Like they did with the 750 Four, Kawasaki copied the Honda six cylinder, but the Kawasaki engine was water-cooled and from an aesthetics perspective, it was just a big lump. The Honda was a finely-finned work of art. I never wanted a Kawasaki Six; I still regret selling my Honda CBX. The CBX was an extremely good-looking motorcycle. It was all engine. What completed the look for me were the six chrome exhaust headers emerging from in front. I put 20,000 miles on mine and sold it for what it cost me, and now someone else is enjoying it. The CBX was stunning motorcycle, but you don’t need six cylinders to make a motorcycle beautiful. Some companies managed to do it with just two, and some with only one. Consider the engines mentioned at the start of this piece (Harley, Triumph, BSA, and Norton).

I shot this photo at Hansen Dam, too. I always wanted a mid-’60s Moto Guzzi. Never scratched that itch, though. They sound amazing. Imagine a refined Harley, and you’d have this.

Moto Guzzi’s air-cooled V-twins are in a class by themselves. I love the look and the sound of an air-cooled Guzzi V-twin. It’s classy. I like it.

Some motorcycle manufacturers made machines that were mesmerizing with but a single cylinder, so much so that they inspired modern reproductions, and then copies of those reproductions. Consider Honda’s GB500, and more than a few motorcycles from China and even here in the US that use variants of the GB500 engine.

The Honda GB500, Honda’s nod to earlier British singles. It’s another one I always wanted.

The GB500 is a water cooled bike, but Sochoiro’s boys did it right. The engine is perfect. Like I said above, variants of that engine are still made in China and Italy; one of those engines powers the new Janus 450 Halcyon.

The Janus 450 Halcyon I rode in Goshen. That resulted in a feature story in Motorcycle Classics. It’s engine is by SWM in Italy, which is a variant of the Chinese copy of the GB500 engine. I liked the Janus.

No discussion of mechanical magnificence would be complete without mentioning two of the most beautiful motorcycles ever made: The Brough Superior SS100 and the mighty Vincent. The Brits’ ability to design a visually arresting, aesthetically pleasing motorcycle engine must be a genetic trait. Take a look at these machines.

The Brough Superior SS100. Its engine had a constant loss lubrication system. This is the same motorcycle Lawrence of Arabia rode. One of my grandsons is named T.E. Lawrence.

The mighty Vincent. This and the Brough Superior above were both photographed at Hansen Dam.

Two additional bits of moto exotica are the early inline and air-cooled four-cylinder Henderson, and the Thor, one of the very first V-twin engine designs. Both of these boast American ancestry.

Jay Leno’s 1931 Henderson. He told me he bought it off a 92-year-old guy in Vegas who was getting a divorce and needed to raise cash, and I fell for it.

The Henderson you see above belongs to Jay Leno, who let me photograph it at one of the Hansen Dam Norton gatherings. Incidentally, if there’s a nicer guy than Jay Leno out there, I haven’t met him. The man is a prince. He’s always gracious, and he’s never too busy to talk motorcycles, sign autographs, or pose for photos. You can read about some of the times I’ve bumped into Jay Leno at the Rock Store or the Hansen Dam event right here on ExNotes.

A Thor V-twin photographed at the Franklin Auto Museum in Tucson, Arizona. You almost need a four-year mechanical engineering degree to start one of these. Thor made the first engines for Indian.

Very early vintage motorcycles’ mechanical complexity is almost puzzle-like…they are the Gordian knots of motorcycle mechanical engineering design. I photographed a 1913 Thor for Motorcycle Classics (that story is here), and as I was optimizing the photos I found myself wondering how guys back in the 1910s started the things. I was able to crack the code, but I had to concentrate so hard it reminded me of dear departed mentor Bob Haskell talking about the Ph.Ds and other wizards in the advanced design group when I worked in the bomb business: “Sometimes those guys think so hard they can’t think for months afterward,” Bob told me (both Bob and I thought the wizards had confused their compensation with their capability).

There’s no question in my mind that water cooling a motorcycle engine is a better way to go from an engineering perspective. Water cooling adds weight, cost, and complexity, but the fuel efficiency and power advantages of water cooling just can’t be ignored. I don’t like when manufacturers attempt to make a water-cooled engine look like an air-cooled engine with the addition of fake fins (it somehow conveys design dishonesty). But some marques make water cooled engines look good (Virgil Elings’ comments notwithstanding). My Triumph Speed Triple had a water-cooled engine. I think the Brits got it right on that one.

My 2007 Triumph Speed Triple. Good buddy Marty told me some folks called these the Speed Cripple. In my case, that turned out to be true, but that’s another story for another blog.

My 2015 CSC RX3. Before you go all nuts on me and start whining about Chinese motorcycle quality, I need to tell you I rode these across China, through the Andes Mountains in Colombia, up and down Baja a bunch of times, and all over the American west (you can read about those adventures here). It was one of the best and most comfortable bikes I ever owned.

Zongshen is another company that makes water-cooled engines look right. I thought my RX3 had a beautiful engine and I really loved that motorcycle. I sold it because I wasn’t riding it too much, but the tiny bump in my bank account that resulted from the sale, in retrospect, wasn’t worth it. I should have kept the RX3. When The Big Book Of Best Motorcycles In The History Of The World is written, I’m convinced there will be a chapter on the RX3.

The future of “motor” cycling? This is the CSC RX1E. I rode it and liked it. The silence takes some getting used to.

With the advent of electric motorcycles, I’ve ridden a few and they are okay, but I can’t see myself ever buying one. That’s because as I said at the beginning of this blog, for me a motorcycle is all about the motor. I realize that’s kind of weird, because on an electric motorcycle the power plant actually is a motor, not an internal combustion engine (like all the machines described above). What you mostly see on an electric motorcycle is the battery, which is the large featureless chingadera beneath the gas tank (which, now that I’m writing about it, isn’t a gas tank at all). I don’t like the silence of an electric motorcycle. They can be fast (the Zero I rode a few years ago accelerated so aggressively it scared the hell out of me), but I need some noise, I need to feel the power pulses and engine vibration, and I want other people to hear me. The other thing I don’t care for is that on an electric motorcycle, the power curve is upside down. They accelerate hardest off a dead stop and fade as the motor’s rpm increases; a motorcycle with an internal combustion engine accelerates harder as the revs come up.

Wow, this blog went on for longer than I thought it would. I had fun writing it and I had fun going through my photo library for the pics you see here. I hope you had fun reading it.

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A Visit With Andrew

By Joe Berk

This is another one of those blogs that almost had another title. I considered simply calling it The P11. Hey, if you know, you know. And I know. So does Andrew.

Sue and I were on the East Coast last week (as in literally on the East Coast when we stopped for lunch in Point Pleasant, New Jersey) when I gave my buddy Andrew a call. Andrew is the guy who runs British Motorcycle Gear, a company whose ads grace these pages. You’ve also read reviews by Joe Gresh on some of the top quality gear Andrew offers, including Rapido gloves, the Mercury jacket, and the BMG Adventure motorcycle pants.

Andrew is a true Anglophile (a lover of all things British), although like me, he grew up in the Garden State. We had a nice visit in Andrew’s beautiful home, and then he took us into his garage to see the toys. I was blown away, not just by the motorcycles Andrew parks in his garage, but at how closely they tracked with my list of highly desireable motorcycles.

No one has ever outdone Norton when it comes to fuel tank style. Triumph comes close. So did Harley in the ’30s, ’40s, and ’50s. This tank is perfect. And those exhaust pipes!

One that caught my eye instantly was a Norton P11. That was the ultimate hot rod motorcycle in the 1960s. Norton shoehorned their 750cc engine into a 500cc Matchless desert sled frame. When I was a teenager, the word on the street was that nothing was faster than a Norton P11. Norton only made a very few of these motorcycles (I think the production total was less than 2500). Truth be told, Andrew’s P11 is the first one I’ve ever seen in person, but I knew what it was as soon as I saw it. It’s parked on the other side of the garage, and my eye skimmed over a bunch of motoexotica when I saw the P11. Man, I would love to own that motorcycle. I don’t necessarily need to ride it; I would just look at it and keep it immaculate. Which, incidentally, is the condition in which I found all of Andrew’s motorcycles.

A late ’60s Triumph Bonneville. How could these guys have been overtaken by Japan?

There was a silver and burgundy 1968 Triumph Bonneville that looks like it rolled out of the Coventry plant yesterday morning. Andrew told me that the Bonneville is sold. Not to me, unfortunately. It’s another I’ve love to own.

Andrew with a few of his rides. Check out the Honda GB500 just behind the Daytona. Just 535 miles! That’s an MV Augusta behind it.

Andrew has a Triumph Daytona, and it’s the rare one…the 900cc triple with a bunch of goodies (think triple caliper disks up front, carbon fiber front fender, and other similar go fast and stop fast bits). It is bright yellow (Triumph called it Daytona yellow), just like the Daytona 1200 I owned about a decade ago. But my Daytona was but a mere commoner’s motorcycle. Andrew’s Daytona is the limited-edition version. Like the P11 Norton mentioned above, it’s the first one I’ve ever seen. I live in southern California; I’ve been to a bunch of moto hangouts (like the Rock Store in Malibu) and numerous Britbike events (for example, the Hansen Dam Norton get-togethers). I’ve seen Jay Leno, I’ve seen pristine vintage Indians (real ones, not the current production stuff), I’ve seen four-cylinder Hendersons, and I’ve laid these eyeballs on other similar exotics. But I’ve never seen a limited-edition Daytona Super III or a P11 in person until I visited Andrew.

Another one of Andrew’s bikes that caught my eye was a near-new-old-stock Honda GB500. It has to be one of the most beautiful motorcycles ever made. Honda offered these 500cc singles in the mid 1980s. It was a modern nod to (and refined version of) the British Velocette. They flopped from a sales perspective back then, but that’s only because of our unrefined palate and our then-fascination with conchos, wide whitewalls , and beer bellies (think potato-potato-potato exhaust notes and you’ll catch my drift). Like a lot of things, I should have bought a GB500 back then. Andrew’s GB500 is literally in like new condition. It has 535 original miles on the odometer.

There was more…a modern Triumph Thruxton, another modern Triumph, even a Lotus Elise sports car. My eye, though, kept returning to the Norton P11. It really is a visually arresting motorcycle.

At the conclusion of our visit, I asked Andrew if he would consider adopting me. Everyone enjoyed a good laugh about that. They all thought I was kidding. But I wasn’t.

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The Wayback Machine: 1200 Triumph Daytona

By Joe Berk

I guess a bike can still be a dream bike if you owned one and then sold it. I still dream about my Triumph 1200 Daytona, so it qualifies. It was a fantastic bike. A real locomotive. Crude, strong, powerful, and fun. And fast. Wow, was it ever fast!

Somewhere in New Mexico on the 2005 Three Flags Rally with my ’95 Daytona 1200, a bike I still dream about.

I first saw a 1200 Daytona at a CBX Honda meet (yeah, I had one of those, too). It was at a guy’s house somewhere in Hollywood, and this dude also had a black 1200 Daytona. Well, maybe that’s not quite right…I saw one at the Long Beach Show even before then, but I didn’t really appreciate what it was all about. This CBX guy was laughing and telling me about the Daytona’s design.

“What they did, har har har, was basically just hang an extra cylinder off the right side of the motor, har har har,” he said. “Here, har har har, take a look at this, har har har,” and with that, he walked behind the Daytona and pointed to the engine. Holy mackerel, I thought. It had been a 900cc triple. Now it was a 1200 four, and the added girth of that extra cylinder stuck out of the frame on the right. They didn’t even re-center the engine in the frame. Anything this crude, I thought, I had to have. Har har har, the CBX guy was right. This was a machine worth owning. I had to get me one.

I guess the feeling passed (they usually do), but that bike stuck in my mind. I had pretty much forgotten all about that Daytona until one day when I received an email, way back in ’02, from my riding buddy Marty. It seemed there was a brand-new 1995 Triumph Daytona on Ebay. 7 years old, never sold, and the dealer in Wisconsin was auctioning it off on Ebay. In 2002.

Jesus, I was still on dial up Internet in those days. I can still hear the squelching when I logged onto AOL to get to the Internet. This can’t be right, I thought, as I studied the Ebay listing. I called the dealer. He was a Ducati and Kawasaki guy now, somewhere in Wisconsin. Used to be a Triumph dealer. He got the Daytona when he was still selling Triumphs, he had put it on display (it was stunning), nobody bit, he was anxious to sell, he lost the Triumph franchise years ago, and he was finally getting around to unloading the Daytona. Yep, it’s brand new, he told me. Never registered. 0.6 miles on the clock. $12,995 back in ’95. I already knew that. It was beyond my reach back then.

I did the only thing I could think of. I put in a bid. Using dial up. On Ebay. My friend Marty was shocked. So was I.

Over the next several days, the price climbed. Then it was D-day. Then H-hour. Then M-minute. The bid was $7,195. For a 7-year old, brand new, originally $12,995 motorcycle. I waited until there were just a few seconds left and I put in a bid for $7,202. On dial up Internet. Nothing happened. That was dial up for you.

The auction ended, my dial up Ebay was flashing at me. I swore up a blue streak, cursing the genes that had made me a cheap SOB who wouldn’t pay extra for broadband. I used dial up to save a few bucks, and now it had cost me big time. I thought I had let that dream bike get away. Then Ebay announced the winner, and it was me.

Yahoo! (No, Ebay and AOL!) I won! Whoopee!

My dream come true, after arriving from Wisconsin by air. I had visions of flying to Wisconsin and riding back, but when I called, the dealer’s wife told me he was out front shoveling snow…

I know. Stunning. Mine. A dream come true.

Beauty like this can drive ya buggy. The aftermath of a CLASSIFIED high speed run across central California on Highway 58.

A few days later, I had the bike, and my dream came true. I put 20,000 miles on it, I rode the thing from Canada to Mexico on the 30th Anniversary Three Flags Rally with Marty (I was the only Triumph among the 400 bikes that rode the event that year), and then I sold it. A dream come true, and I sold it. I know, I know. What was I thinking?

I can still dream, I guess, and I often do, of that big yellow locomotive with one cylinder hanging off the right side…

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The Wayback Machine: Suzuki TL1000S

By Joe Berk

The year was 1997 and the Ducati V-twins had been dominating magazine covers for years. Not to be outdone, two Japanese manufacturers produced similarly-configured V-twins (actually, L-twins). Honda had the SuperHawk, and Suzuki the TL1000S. I’ve always liked Suzuki better, so I went with the TL1000s. Suzuki offered the TL in two colors….a forest green with red accents; and bright red with yellow accents. For me, it had to be red.

My ’97 TL1000S, somewhere in northern Baja.

I bought my TL at Bert’s in Azusa. If I recall correctly, I negotiated the guys down to $8700 out the door, and part of that was a Yamaha 650 twin I traded in. I had bought the Yamaha used from a guy in a course I taught at McDonnell Douglas, thinking the Yamaha would be like my old Triumph Bonnevilles but reliable. The Yamaha was a bust. It was too heavy, it had cheap fasteners, the Hopper/Fonda riding stance was awful, it didn’t handle, and it lacked the low-end grunt of my earlier Triumphs.

I remember riding the TL home from Bert’s. The riding was awkward with the bike’s low bars and high footpegs, but I got used to it and I made it less punishing with a set of Heli-Bars. The Heli-Bars were slighly taller and wider (you got about an inch more in each dimension, which made a difference).

A stop for fuel in Catavina. The guys sell gasolina from bottles along Mexico Highway 1.

The TL was the fastest and hardest accelerating motorcycle I ever owned. It would wheelie in third gear if you weren’t paying attention, and it went from zero to 100 in a heartbeat. The bottom end torque was ferocious. Fuel economy was atrocious, and it had a tendency to stall at low rpm. But wow, did it ever look good. Did I mention it was fast?

My friend Marty had an Aprilia V-twin (a Mille, I think, or something like that), another bit of Italian exotica, that cost even more than the Ducati. Marty’s spaghetti-bender was more than twice what I paid for my TL. We swapped bikes once on a day ride and I came away unimpressed. My TL was faster.

Baja a few years ago. Younger, thinner, and hair that hadn’t turned gray yet. That motorcycle made me look good.

I wanted the look of a sport bike, but I’m not a canyon racer and the exotic look didn’t do anything for me once I had ridden the TL a few times. Then something funny happened. My Harley died on a Baja ride. I nursed my Harley home, parked it, and took the TL. Surprisingly, it did a good job as a touring platform. And I could ride at speeds the Harley couldn’t dream about. In those days, if there were speed limits in Baja, I didn’t know about them.

That first big trip on the TL instead of the Harley cinched it for me. I bought sportsbike soft luggage and used the TL on many rides after that. 700-mile days in Baja became the norm (I could make Mulegé in a day; the TL wouldn’t break a sweat). The only downside was the abominable fuel economy (the fuel light would come on after 105 miles), but a one-gallon red plastic fuel container and a bungie cord fixed that. It was Beverly hillbillies, but it worked. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a hillbilly (somebody’s got to shoot those road signs).

TL1000S touring. The bike was a surprisingly good touring machine.

Even with the TL’s mid-30-mpg fuel economy, I only ran out of fuel twice. Once was on the Bodfish-Caliente Road (one of California’s best kept secrets). I didn’t have my gas can with me; Marty rode ahead and returned with a gasoline-filled water bottle he hoped wouldn’t dissolve (it didn’t). The other time was on Baja’s long stretch headed south to Guerrero Negro. That road runs straight as an arrow, and I ran the TL at a surprisingly comfortable 145 mph (still well below the TL’s top speed). The TL was fuel injected and when it ran dry it was like someone shut the ignition. I poured my extra gallon in and made it to the next Pemex station. The guys I rode with were still far behind.

I had fun with the TL, but I dropped it a lot more than any other bike I had ever owned. All the drops were my fault. The low-mounted sport bars restricted steering, and once when pulling into my driveway, there wasn’t enough to keep the bike upright. Before I realized it, the bike and I were both on the ground (my first thought was to wonder if anyone had seen me). The next time the bike was in my driveway, facing slightly downhill. I started it to let it warm up, and the bike rolled off the sidestand. Again, my first thought was if anyone had seen me. The third time was more dramatic. The TL had a slipper clutch; you could downshift with reckless abandon. The clutch would slip and not skid the rear tire. It was cool, until I used it diving hard into a corner. The curb was coming up quickly and I wasn’t slowing fast enough. The slipper clutch was doing its thing, but when I touched the front brake, that was enough to unload the rear wheel. It broke loose and I fishtailed into the curb. I went over the bars, executed a very clean somersault, and came to rest in the sitting position looking straight ahead. I had been watching the Oympics on TV the day before and I remember thinking (as I completed my dismount) I could be a competitor. A woman in a station wagon saw the whole thing. She rolled down her window and I half expected to see a sign with a 10 on it (like they do at the Olympics). “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered. “I’m a gymnast and I’m practicing.” The window went up and she disappeared.

I loved the looks of the TL. Yeah, the carbon fiber was faux, but I didn’t care. In those days I was running a factory that made carbon fiber aircraft stuff and I never understood the attraction. Even with fake carbon fiber, the TL was a motorcycle that looked fast. And it was.

Suzuki only made the TL for a few years. Some guy in the UK killed himself in a speed wobble, the bike got an Internet rep as a tank slapper, and that killed sales worldwide. Suzuki had a recall to add a steering damper, but the damage had been done. Bert’s installed the damper on my TL, I couldn’t feel any difference , and my bike never went into a wobble (either before or after the recall). My hypothesis is that the UK guy rolled on too much throttle exiting a corner, lifting the front wheel with the bike leaned over. That will induce a wobble, you know. There was another recall to fix the low speed stalling issue. I guess it worked; my bike never had a low speed stall after that.

Suzuki offered a more radical fully-faired version called the TL1000R (I didn’t like its looks), but the TL-R didn’t survive, either. The engine, however, proved to be a winner. Today, 25 years later, a detuned version is still soldiering on in the ADV-styled V-Strom. I never owned a V-Strom, but I should have. Everybody I ever talked to who owned one loved the V-Strom. Me, I loved my TL.

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Break-Up Bikes (my journey to a Yamaha TW 200)

By Bobbie Surber

Can we talk about an important matter that has been on my mind?

Do women who ride motorcycles handle breakups differently compared to women who don’t rider?

It’s a thought that tickles the imagination of everyone at some point, right? Well, maybe not everyone, but hey, this is my little tale, so here we go. Picture this: it was summer, I had just experienced a breakup that left my heart in pieces, and an opportunity for a soul-searching solo ride presented itself. In that moment of contemplation, I assessed my true desires in life, and you know what came to mind? Dirt and sand riding. Yeah, I’m talking about that exhilarating feeling of kicking up dust and cruising through sandy terrain. Don’t get me wrong, my beloved Triumph Tiger 900 (affectionately named Tippi) will always hold the top spot in my heart. But hey, a girl needs a little something on the side, a petite and playful companion for short rides. You catch my drift, right? I know some of you guys can relate! Ha!

Fast forward through the summer months and as August approached a dear friend (who also happens to be an extraordinary adventure rider) reached out to me. By then, I had been on my solo riding journey for over two months, feeling both physically drained and financially pinched. And then, like a shining beacon, my friend, let’s call her Destini, introduced me to the elusive TW 200—the side cheating bike of my dreams. This unicorn of a motorcycle was up for sale in Southern California, and armed with a few snapshots and a contact number, I was ready to make my move.

Now, you won’t believe the audacity I had, claiming to be financially constrained but wasting no time in contacting Eric, the seller. He was enjoying a leisurely dinner with friends on a perfect summer evening when I burst into his life with overwhelming excitement. I must have been yapping like a caffeinated squirrel, leaving him wondering if I was either on some mind-altering substance or going through a manic phase. But can you blame me? I had set my heart on that bike! It wasn’t just a want—it was a dire post-breakup remedy! A 2015 Yamaha TW 200 with a mere 800 miles on it listed for only $4000. Surprise, surprise, Eric turned out to be a gem of a person and agreed to a small Venmo deposit to secure the deal.

Now, here’s where the plot thickens. I was miles away in the Olympic peninsula of Washington while the prized possession awaited me in sunny southern California. One could say I needed a trusty sidekick, and luckily, a kind friend volunteered to inspect and purchase the bike on my behalf.

Before I knew it I was the proud owner of a TW 200. Come September, picture me cruising through the neighborhood on a splendid Sunday afternoon, giggling like a mischievous child. That little bike felt so lightweight and petite. Its chunky rear tire was the only contrasting feature. And would you believe it? My shattered heart seemed to magically mend, thanks to a mere $4000 and the promise of thrilling rides in Baja and my enchanting town of Sedona, conquering as much dirt as possible! Love was in the air once again, and my mind was filled with visions of the adventures that lay ahead.

And thus, my riding comrades, this is the tale of how I acquired my very own break-up bike!

The Yamaha TW 200 is a unique dual-sport motorcycle known for its distinctive features and versatility. Here are some key details about the Yamaha TW 200:

- Engine. It’s powered by a 196cc, single-cylinder, air-cooled four-stroke engine, designed for reliability and easy maintenance.
- Fat Tires. One of its most recognizable features is its oversized tires—both front and rear are unusually wide for a motorcycle of its size. The fat tires, with dimensions of 130/80-18 rear and 130/80-18 front, contribute to its off-road capabilities and stability on various terrains.
- Low Seat Height. The TW 200 boasts a low seat height, making it accessible and comfortable for riders of varying heights and skill levels. This characteristic also aids in maneuverability, especially off-road.
- Suspension. It’s equipped with long-travel telescopic front forks and a rear mono-shock suspension, providing decent travel for off-road adventures while maintaining comfort on the road.
- Utility and Design. Its design combines elements of a traditional dirt bike and a street motorcycle. It features a high-mounted exhaust, a large, round headlight, a rear rack for cargo, and a simple, utilitarian appearance.
- Availability. While production and availability may vary by region and year, the TW 200 has gained popularity for its unique design and capabilities, which contributes to its demand in the used market.

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Triumph’s New 400cc Motorcycles

By Joe Berk

Well, what do you know? Triumph is the latest moto manufacturer to jump on the small bike band wagon with the announcement of their new 400cc single-cylinder motorcycles. Not to be too snarky, but better late than never, I suppose. Harley did the same thing a year or so ago with their 350cc and 500cc motorcycles, but the Harleys were supposed to be manufactured and only available in Asia. More’s the pity, although I get it: A small bike wouldn’t go well with the typical Harley crowd.

Back to today’s topic: The new 400cc Triumphs: I like them.

Triumph announced two models: A Speed 400, and a Scrambler 400. They look like Triumphs, which is to say they look fabulous. I like the colors (each will available in three different color themes) and I like the looks.

With a published 40 horsepower, the bikes will probably be good for 100 mph, and that ought to be enough for any sane rider. I’m guessing the bikes will get something around 70 miles per gallon, and that should be good, too. Triumph turned to Bajaj (in India). There’s nothing wrong with that. Triumph’s Bonneville line is manufactured in Thailand. My Enfield 650 (which I’ve been riding for three years) is manufactured in India, and its quality is magnificent. Prices on the new Triumphs haven’t been announced yet. If the Mothership can keep the dealers from pulling their normal freight and setup chicanery, these bikes should be a good deal (but expecting dealers to abandon their larcenous freight and setup games is, I realize, probably wishful thinking).

On that Harley thing I mentioned above: QianJiang (also known QJ Motor) bought Benelli (an Italian motorcycle company) in 2005. QJ took the name and started offering bikes made in China but labeled as Benellis (I saw them at the Canton Fair a few years ago). The QJ/Benelli bikes are not bad looking, but I’ve never ridden one and I have no idea how good (or bad) they are. It’s that very same Benelli (i.e., the Chinese one) that Harley announced would be making 350cc and 500cc small Harleys. The Harley plan was that their smaller models would only be sold overseas (i.e., not in America). Harley makes and sells more motorcycles than I ever will, so I suppose they know what they are doing. But I think they are making a mistake not bringing their small bikes to America.

Look! Up in the sky! It’s a QJ Motor! No, it’s a Benelli! No, it’s Super Harley!

Let’s not forget the new BSA Gold Star, another made-in-India Britbike reported here on the ExNotes blog about a year ago. That one is still in the works, I guess. For a delivery date, the new BSA website still says “available to order soon,” which is to say we have no idea when the new BSA Goldie will be here.

The revivified Beezer Gold Star. I think it is a better-looking bike than either the new Triumph or the small Chinese Harley.

While all this is going on, my friends in Zongshen (they make the RX3, the RX4, the Zongshen 400cc twins, the TT 250, the San Gabriel, and now the RX6 650cc twin that CSC imports to the US) tell me that the craze in China has gone full tilt toward bigger bikes. That’s why they introduced the RX6. I was the first journalist/blogger/all around good guy in America to ride and report on the RX6. It’s a good bike, but I’m not a fan of the movement toward ever larger motorcycles. I’m convinced that my RX3 was the best all around motorcycle I ever owned (especially for riding in Baja), and I’ve written extensively on that.

I’m looking forward to seeing the new Triumphs. Hell, I’d look forward to seeing the new small Harleys and the BSA, too, but maybe that’s not in the cards. Why the fascination and appreciation for small bikes? Take a read here.

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The Wayback Machine: Zed’s Not Dead

Our latest Resurrection story about Joe Gresh’s ZRX is not our first big Kawi resurrection story. Going back a few years, we previously ran a 20-blog series on a Z1 Kawasaki. This Wayback Machine piece was the culmination of that story, with a link at the end that will take you to the entire series. Those big Kawis are cool, and the Z1 is unquestionably the coolest of them all.

By Joe Gresh

You may recall from Zed 19 I had to re-soak Zed’s gas tank as 10 days were not enough to dissolve the rust. I drained, dried and reloaded the tank with apple cider vinegar and let it sit for 4 more days. This is what it looked like originally:

The second session really knocked most of the rust out. After rinsing I dumped a large box of baking soda into the tank and added clean rainwater sloshing it as I filled to mix thoroughly. I don’t know the chemical reaction that takes place but the baking soda neutralizes the acid, turning the metal a dull grey, almost white color. This treated metal does not flash rust and I’ve been going 3-4 years on another tank I cleaned like this without rust reappearing. It’s like the metal turns passive and stops reacting to oxygen.

If I wasn’t so hell-bent on riding this bike I think I would flush and cider the tank one more time but it looks good enough and I’ve got to ride! I connected a small hose to my shop vac and played it all over inside the tank. I can hear nothing when I shake the tank so at least there are no big chunks loose inside.

Proving that even the simplest life forms can learn I bought an entire new petcock for $23 rather than the rebuild kit for $8. This is real growth on my part. Usually I buy the kit, mess with it for hours then put it on only to have it leak. Only then will I buy the new one. Kawasaki uses a turnbuckle-type left-hand/right-hand thread on the Z1 petcock. It took about 145 tries to get it to tighten up facing the correct direction.

The new petcock has screens inside the tank and a bowl filter but with 40% of Zed’s tank out of my view-field I can only assume the entire tank is as clean as the places I can see. Inline fuel filters, one for each set of two carbs will hopefully catch any debris still in Zed’s tank.

An update on the Z1 Enterprises regulator/rectifier: It works. The battery charges @ 14.8 volts which is still a tad high but much better than the 17 volts Kawasaki’s setup was doing.

From the top Zed looks pretty well sorted. I took it for a ride and it ran really well for off the bench carb settings. It might be a little rich at idle or it might just be our 6000-foot elevation. I’m not going to tinker with it for now. I’d rather get some miles on the bike.

I don’t know what this bracket is for. Located on the right side down tube near the tach drive, it’d too light for a steering damper mount. Anyway, there’s enough stuff on the bike as is so I’m not going to worry about it.

I took Zed to my secret proving grounds and she ran through all 5 gears smoothly. The bike hit 90 MPH without even trying. I’ll need a better front tire to do any high-speed work. The brakes work ok. When you ride a SMR 510 Husqvarna all other motorcycle brakes seem like crap. After 33 miles there are small oil leaks at the tach drive and countershaft area. Maybe the clutch pushrod seal or sprocket seal is the culprit. That stuff is easy to fix.

The patina on Zed is excessive, bordering on shabby. The bike sat outside for years and paint wise there’s nothing left to polish or wax. The finish is just not there. The pin striping is cracked and missing sections. I’m not sure what to do about that. On the one hand a ratty bike may be less attractive to thieves and old Z1’s are getting fairly expensive. On the other hand it does look pretty bad. I’ve seen my Enduro buddy Mr. French do some amazing work with rattle cans. Maybe I’ll give it a go. The paint can’t look any worse.

That’s it: from Dead to Zed in 20 easy sessions. Don’t worry, this won’t be the last you’ll hear of Zed. I’ll be doing some long trips on this bike, maybe Mexico, maybe ride to a few flat track races. I’ll update the blog if I do any more major work on the bike. The story of Zed’s resurrection may be ending but the story of Zed is just beginning.

And there you have it. If you’d like to run through the gears (i.e., the previous 19 installments of Zed’s Not Dead), you can do so here!

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The Wayback Machine: ’66 Triumph TT Special

The Triumph TT Special: Made from 1963 to 1967, in my opinion it made for the ultimate street bike back in the 1960s. I always wanted one. It’s an itch I never scratched, and that may be a good thing. I like to remember it the way I remember it: The ultimate motorcycle. I’ve owned a few bikes between then and now that were undoubtedly more powerful, so a TT Special ride today might seem disappointing (and I don’t want to facilitate bursting that bubble). No, the dream is how I want to remember this motorcycle.

So, some of this is from a blog I did for CSC several years ago, and some of it is new. It’s all centered on one of my all-time dream bikes, the Triumph ’66 TT Special.

A ’66 Triumph TT Special. Love those colors!

Some background: In the mid-60s, the ultimate street bike was a Triumph TT Special. The regular Bonneville was a pretty hot number back then, but it came with mufflers, lights, a horn, and all the stuff it needed to be street legal. Those bikes were pegged at 52 horsepower, and although that sounds almost laughable now (as does thinking of a 650 as a big bike), I can tell you from personal experience it was muey rapido. I don’t believe there were any vehicles on the street in those days (on two wheels or four) that were faster than a Triumph Bonneville. And there was especially nothing that was faster than the Triumph TT Special. It took the hot rod twin-carb Bonneville and made it even faster. And cooler looking. The Triumph TT Special will always hold a special place in my heart.

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I had a spare hour a couple of years ago (yeah, that’s about how it happens), and that’s when I stopped in Bert’s. My good buddy Ron had a Triumph TT Special on display. I wondered what most folks thought when they saw the TT Special in Ron’s showroom. Bert’s sells to a mostly younger crowd (you know the type…kids who just got a licenses and go for 170-mph sports bikes), and my guess is they didn’t really “get” the TT Special. I sure did. Like I said, back in the mid-60s the Triumph Bonneville ruled the streets, and the TT Special would absolutely smoke a standard Bonneville.

Back in those days the Triumph factory rated the TT Special at 54 horsepower (as opposed to the standard Bonneville’s 52), but let me tell you there was way more than just 2 horsepower separating these machines. The TT Special was essentially the starting point for a desert racer or flat tracker. They were racing motorcycles. The TT Special was never intended to be a street bike, but some of them ended up on the street. If you rode a TT Special…well, you just couldn’t get any cooler than that.

A ’65 Bonneville TT Special, in the blue and silver colors of that year. This is a beautiful motorcyle on display in the Owens Collection in Diamond Bar, California.

I only knew one guy back then who owned a TT Special (Jimmy something-or-other), and he did what guys did when they owned a TT Special. He made it street legal, and that effort consisted of a small Bates headlamp, a tail light, and a single rear view mirror.

The first time Jimmy was pulled over in New Jersey the reason was obvious: He was a young guy on a Triumph TT Special. Back in those days, that constituted probable cause. After the officer checked the bike carefully, he gave Jimmy a ticket for not having a horn. It was what we called a “fix it” ticket, because all you had to do was correct the infraction and the ticket was dismissed. Jimmy didn’t want to spend the money (and add the weight) that went with wiring, a switch, and an electronic horn, so he bought a bicycle bulb horn. You know, the kind that attached to the handlebars and had a black bulb on one end and a little trumpet on the other. It honked when you squeezed the bulb. Ol’ Jimmy (old now, I guess, if he is even still around) went to the police station, honked his horn, and the police officer dismissed the citation. With a good laugh. It was a good story 50+ years ago and it’s still a good story today. Simpler times, I guess.

I love the ’66 white and orange color combo, too. My Dad had a ’66 T120R Bonneville back then (that’s the standard street version of the Bonneville), and it was a dream come true for me. Those colors (white, with an orange competition stripe framed by gold pinstripes) really worked. 1966 was the first year Triumph went to their smaller fuel tank, and it somehow made the Bonneville even cooler.

My father, an upholsterer by trade, reupholstered his Bonneville with a matching white Naugahyde seat. Dad put a set of longitudinal pleats on the seat in orange to match those on the tank, and each was bordered by gold piping. The overall effect was amazing. It looked like the bike ran under a set of white, gold, and orange paint sprayers. The effect was electric. That bike really stood out in 1966, and it continues to stand out in my mind. In fact, while I was at CSC, that color combo (with Steve Seidner’s concurrence) found its way into one of the new San Gabriel color combos. Some dreams do come true, I guess!

A Cup O’ Joes includes a few of our Dream Bikes. You can pick up a copy here.

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CSC’s RX6

By Joe Berk

Great things continue to emerge from CSC Motorcycles, my alma mater and your favorite motorcycle company. CSC is now importing the new Zongshen 650cc Cyclone, the RX6. It’s a logical step up. The first CSC adventure touring motorcycle was the RX3, and I had a ton of fun on it. You know the story…when CSC first planned to bring that motorcycle to America, I wrote a blog about it and we sold the first one within a few seconds of the blog being published (it went to a buyer in Alaska). The sales poured in, and literally within days of the RX3 motorcycles arriving in America, we led a tour of 15 CSC riders on a 2000-mile ride through Baja. It was awesome, and it was pretty gutsy…taking 15 Chinese motorcycles on a ride like that.

It was onward and upward after that…a 5000-mile ride through the western US with a dozen guests from China and Colombia, a 6000-mile ride across China with Joe Gresh, a circumnavigation of the Andes Mountains in Colombia, and many more Baja rides. Then came the CSC TT 250, the San Gabriel, the RX4 450cc, the 400cc twins, the electric City Slicker, and the RX1E electric ADV motorcycle.

You’ve probably heard the rumors of the Zongshen/Norton alliance and their skunkworks 650cc twin, and I’m here to tell you the 650cc RX6 is a reality. I rode the first one in America in the San Gabriel Mountains above CSC’s facilities, and it’s awesome. And like all of the bikes listed above, CSC is bringing it here.

There are a lot of features on the new RX6 (I’ll list the specifications and some of the features at the bottom of this blog). What grabbed my attention immediately when I saw the new CSC were the fit and finish, the color, the dash, and just the overall aura of excellence. The RX6 is a world class motorcycle. One of the coolest things is the dash. Check this out:

The RX6 is a full-sized motorcycle, but it’s not overwhelming. If I had one I’d probably name it Goldilocks. It’s not too big and it’s not too small. It’s just right.

Another cool feature is the wireless key. It’s like the electronic key on most new cars. It has a key feature (you know, so you can insert it in any of the various locks on the RX6, like the fuel filler cap), but as long as you have it on you, you can start the RX6 just by hitting the starter button. You don’t have to put the key in the ignition.

The brakes felt good on my ride in the mountains. There are large dual disk brakes up front, a single disk in the rear, and anti-skid braking front and rear.

The RX6 sounds like a motorcycle ought to. It has a decisive exhaust note, and it sounded good reverberating off the San Gabriels. It’s fast, too, with noticeably more power than an RX3 or an RX4 throughout the rev range. I didn’t push it too hard (it was CSC’s first sample in the US), but the power was definitely there. Zongshen is claiming a 112 mph top end; I think that is realistic and probably a bit of an underestimate. The one I rode was literally brand new and I was in the mountains, so I didn’t try a top end run.

Zongshen is emphasizing the Cyclone family name (the RX3 is actually a Cyclone, too, but at CSC we made the decision to refer to it as the RX3). The badging on the motorcycle’s side panels says SR650 (presumably, the SR stands for Sports Road), so we’ll have to see how the bike is named when it goes on sale, and Steve tells me that will be soon. The motorcycle will carry a retail price of $7195, and as CSC always does, they are offering an introductory “Don’t Miss The Boat” price of $6695. It’s a certainty that price won’t last long, so…you know…don’t miss the boat. More info will be available on the CSC website.

CSC 2023 RX6 Specifications

- - Engine type: SR650, 650cc parallel twin, 4-stroke, water cooled, DOHC, 8-valve, Delphi Electronic fuel injection, ECU ignition
  - Bore/stroke: 82mm x 61.5mm
  - Compression ratio: 11.5:1
  - Horsepower: 70 hp at 8500 rpm
  - Torque: 62 Nm at 7000 rpm
  - Transmission: 6-speed
  - Clutch: FCC slipper-type
  - Wheelbase: 57.1 inches (1450mm)
  - Front suspension: 41mm inverted telescopic fork, 130mm travel
  - Rear suspension: KYB preload-adjustable mono-shock, 51mm travel, 142mm rear wheel travel
  - Front brake: Nissin 2-piston caliper, dual 320mm front discs, 5mm thick, Bosch ABS
  - Rear brake: 2-piston caliper, 260mm rotor, thickness: 5mm thick, Bosch ABS
  - Front wheel/ tire: Pirelli 120/70-R17 cast aluminum wheel, tubeless
  - Rear wheel/tire: Pirelli 160/60-R17 cast aluminum wheel, tubeless
  - Overall length: 86.4 inches (2195mm)
  - Overall width: 32.3 inches (820mm)
  - Overall height: 54.9 inches (1395mm)
  - Seat height: 32.3 inches (820mm)
  - Ground clearance: 6.5 inches (160mm)
  - Fuel capacity: 5.5 gallons (21 liters), locking gas cap
  - Estimated fuel economy: 48 MPG
  - Curb weight: 540 lb (245kg)d
  - Top speed: 112 mph (180 kph)
  - Max load, rider and luggage: 396 pounds (180kg)
  - Instrumentation: Cyclone 7-inch, full-color TFT dash, with digital speedometer, tachometer, odometer, tripmeter, fuel gauge, gear indicator, neutral light, temperature gauge, clock, turn signal and high beam indicators; Bluetooth linking to rider’s phone
  - Electronic tire-pressure monitoring system
  - Lighting: full LED lights and turn signals
  - 12-volt and USB charging outlets on dash
  - 300-watt alternator
  - Automotive-type waterproof connectors under seat
  - Tapered aluminum handlebars with bar-end weights
  - Standard engine guards, adjustable electronic windshield, vibration-damping foot pegs, dual curvature rear view mirrors
  - Front and Rear built in recorder and cameras
  - 5,000-mile valve adjustment intervals
  - Easy maintenance supported by a service manual and CSC online tutorials
  - Options: CSC touring luggage packages, accessory driving lights, heated handgrips, and more

Dream Bikes: Honda Super Hawk

By Joe Berk

That’s me, age 15, in the photo above. I’m on my Dad’s Honda Super Hawk, and no, I wasn’t getting ready to do my best impression of Rollie Free or Walt Fulton (even though I was apparently wearing the same swim trunks as ol’ Rollie). I wasn’t getting ready for a high speed run at all…it was summer, and we spent a lot of time in the water in those days. And when Dad said it was okay (and sometimes when he didn’t), I rode the Super Hawk in the fields behind our house.

We didn’t know as much about photography back in the mid-’60s. But you get the idea. That Super Hawk was a lot of fun. That’s me in the summer of 1966.

Rollie Free at Bonneville in 1948, on his way to a romping 150.313 mph land speed record. Check out the swim trunks.

Walt Fulton breaking 100 mph in 1952 at El Mirage, California, on a Mustang motorcycle.

The Honda fascination started with me as a 13-year-old kid. We weren’t motorcycle people. Yet. I was mesmerized by a ’64 Triumph 500cc Tiger a guy at school owned. That started a slew of snail mail requests to the motorcycle companies (snail mail was all we had back then, but we never felt communications deprived), and pretty soon I had a collection of moto sales literature. Dad started looking at it. Then we saw a Honda Dream at a McDonald’s (I wrote about that a few blogs back). A short while later, Dad’s trapshooting buddy Cliff Leutholt (one of those nicest people who rode a Honda) visited us on his Super Hawk. Jet black, chrome, silver paint, twin carbs, electric start, it was stunning. Cliff said it was good for 100 mph. Dad rode it (a first for my father) and he was hooked. The 1960s were good times.

Me, with Dad’s CB 160, in February 1966. No snow, but it was cold that time of year in New Jersey.

The bug bit hard. Dad started looking at the classifieds (remember those?), and in 1965, he bought the Baby Super Hawk, a scaled down, 160cc version of the 305. Dad owned that bike for only a few months, and then he traded it in on a Super Hawk. Sherm Cooper (of Cooper’s Cycle Ranch) offered Dad $450 for the 160 against the Super Hawk’s $730 (it was $50 more than Dad had paid for the 160), and just like that, we had a Super Hawk. Boy, that was a blast.

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The Honda Super Hawk emerged from a vibrant and dazzlingly successful Honda Motor Company. Honda first brought its motorcycles to the US in 1959, and, well, you know the rest. 1961 saw the creation of the 250cc Honda Hawk, which quickly evolved into the Super Hawk. The Super Hawk bumped displacement to 305cc, and its 180-degree parallel twin was good for 28 horsepower at 9200 rpm (unheard of engine speeds back in the early 1960s). The Hondas had 12-volt electrics, twin 26 mm Keihin carbs, a single overhead cam, a 4-speed transmission, and a wet sump lubrication system.

Like the Honda Dream in our recent blog, the Super Hawk had an electric starter, along with a kickstarter that oddly rotated forward (it was hard to look like Marlon Brando kick starting a Super Hawk, but I did my best). The instrumentation was a cool touch. Instead of the more conventional (i.e., British) separate cans for the tach and the speedo, both were contained in a single panel atop the headlight. The Super Hawk had a tubular steel frame and front forks, but no front frame downtube (the engine was a stressed member). The electric starter occupied the space where front downtube would be. It was a clever engineering solution and that electric starter made life easier, but the Super Hawk didn’t look as cool as the 305cc CL 77 Scrambler (more on the Scrambler in a future blog).

The Super Hawk was a runner. A road test in Cycle World magazine had the top speed at 104.6 mph and the bike ran a respectable 16.8-second quarter mile at 83 mph. Super Hawks had twin leading shoe front brakes (something special in the pre-disk-brake era). The motorcycle weighed 335 pounds. The Super Hawk could be had in the same blue, black, white, or red color choices as the Honda Dreams, but unlike the Dream, all the Super Hawks had silver frames, side covers, and fenders. I remember that nearly all Super Hawks were black; it was very unusual to see one in any other color unless you were an Elvis fan.

The Super Hawk had good starring roles, too, before product placement became the mega-industry it is today. There were pop songs about Hondas. Elvis Presley rode a red Honda Super Hawk in the 1964 movie Roustabout. And a fellow named Robert Pirsig rode across the US on one with his son and wrote a book about it (Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance); that book has become something of a bible in the travelogue and motorcycle deep think genres. Pirsig’s Super Hawk currently resides in the Smithsonian.

So, back to my early days and my turning Dad into a rider: As awesome as the Super Hawk was, it didn’t last long. The progression back in those days was a small Honda, a bigger Honda, and then (before the advent of the Honda CB 750 Four), a jump to a Triumph or BSA. Dad had been bitten by the bug big time, and in 1966, he bought a new Triumph Bonneville. But that’s a story for another blog.

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More Dream Bikes!

Our previous blog on the Honda Dream is here. And here’s our blog on riding a Honda Scrambler in New Jersey’s Pine Barrens: Jerry and the Jersey Devil.