A Cup O’ Joes is available now on Amazon. Every bathroom in every motorcycle shop and every motorcyclist’s home needs this book. They make great gifts. Check out the blurb:
Joe Gresh and Joe Berk bring you a collection of their favorite articles and stories from the ExhaustNotes.us website, Motorcycle Classics magazine, Rider magazine, Motorcyclist magazine, ADVMoto magazine, and other publications. Ride with the Joes in China, Colombia, Mexico, New Zealand, Canada, the former Soviet Union, and the United States. Read their opinions on motorcycles, accessories, and more. Humor, wit, insight, and great reading…this collection of motoliterature belongs in your library. Published in black and white.
You could wait for the movie, but the movie deal fell through. You know the story…I wanted Leonardo di Caprio to play me or Gresh, the studio countered with Danny DeVito, and things fell apart after that.
Seriously, though, you need this book. It will make you taller, skinnier, more attractive, and a faster rider. Trust us on this.
A Cup O’ Joes: I loved that title the moment I saw it and I knew it would be the winner, and Gresh and I felt the same way even after all the other suggestions arrived. We thank you all for your ideas. Marcus, we especially thank you.
The book is just about done. Good buddy Jack Lewis wrote a killer Foreword, we just finished the front and rear cover (that’s what you see above), and we’re feeling good about this. We’re going to take one more swing through before we hit publish, and then you’ll be able to order A Cup O’ Joes directly from Amazon. The Kindle e-version will follow shortly thereafter.
Marcus, we’re going to send a signed copy to you. Give us a little while. I have to get a copy, sign it, USPS it to Gresh, he’ll sign it, and then it will be on its way to you. Thanks again.
Yes, it really was like that. Somewhere along the Silk Road (the actual Silk Road) in China. I parked my RX3 when I saw the double rainbow, thinking someday I might use the shot in a blog about this adventure.
Almost 40 years ago, I saw my first Indiana Jones movie and it affected me profoundly. I started traveling the world stumbling upon lost empires. Things that have been swallowed by time, as they say. My motorcycle ride through Colombia had some of that. The Baja adventures have a bit of it, too. But none of the rides had more of an Indiana Jones flavor than did the ride across China. That ride was three years ago this month, and I still think about it every day. There were several things we saw in China that would have been right at home in an Indiana Jones movie. One was Liqian. I can best tell you about it with an excerpt from Riding China, the story of the ride with Joe Gresh across the Ancient Kingdom.
Gobi Gresh, aka Arjiu, stopping to smell the sunflowers in China.
The ride in the morning was just like yesterday. We rode the Silk Road at high speed, making great time in magnificent weather. I knew we were going to Wuwei (you could have a lot of fun with that name; it’s pronounced “woo wee”), but that was really all I knew about that day as we started out that morning. Boy, would this day ever be an interesting one!
It was to be a very full day, and Wuwei would be another one of those cities of several million people that seem to pop up in China every 50 to 100 miles. It was a huge city I had never heard of. China is an amazing place, and I was going to learn today it is more amazing than I could have imagined, and for a reason I would have never guessed. I’ve mentioned Indiana Jones movies a lot in this book. Today, we came upon something that could easily be…well, read on. This is going to be good.
After riding for a couple of hours, we left the freeway and entered a city called Yongchang. It seemed to be pretty much a regular Chinese city until we stopped. I needed to find a bathroom and Wong helped me. Wong is a big, imposing guy. He’s a corrections officer supervisor in Xi’an. He has a friendly look, but he can turn that off in a New York minute and become an extremely imposing figure. I saw him do that once on this trip, and I’ll tell you about that episode when we get to it.
Corrections Officer Supervisor Wong. He looks like a mischievous guy. This guy’s command presence was amazing. I saw him stop a car just by looking at it. Here, he’s enjoying the attention in Yongchang.
Anyway, I followed Wong through a couple of alleys and businesses until we came to an empty restaurant (it was mid-morning, and it had no customers). Wong spoke to the lady there, she nodded her head and smiled at me, and pointed to the bathroom. When I rejoined the guys back on the street, several women at a tailor shop (we had coincidentally stopped in front of a tailor shop) were fussing over Wong. He needed a button sewn on his jacket and it was obvious they were flirting with him. Wong seemed to be enjoying it. Like I said, Wong is a big guy, and I guess you could say he’s good looking. I think the women who were sewing his button on were thinking the same thing.
Beautiful young Chinese ladies. Mostly Chinese, anyway. The one on the left is entering my phone number in her contacts list.
Three teenage girls approached us and wanted to know about our bikes. Like many young Chinese, they spoke English (in China, you learn English as a second language in grade school; it is a strong advantage in Chinese society if you can speak English well). They wanted to practice with us. It was the routine stuff (“how are you?” “hello,” and things like that) until one of the teenaged girls looked directly at me and asked, “Can I have your phone number?” Gresh and I both had a good laugh over that. I actually gave her my phone number and she carefully entered it into her phone (and no, she hasn’t called me yet).
I was enjoying all of this immensely, taking photos of the girls, the seamstresses flirting with Wong, and the rest of China all around me. There was something different about one of those teenage girls. I couldn’t quite recognize what it was, but to me she definitely looked, well, different.
Yongchang statues. They don’t look as Chinese as you might think they should. There’s a reason for that.
It was at about that time that Sean approached me and said, “Dajiu, do you see those three statues over there?” He pointed to three tall statues that faced us, perhaps 300 yards away. I nodded yes. “If you look at their faces, you will see that they have Roman features.” Truth be told, I couldn’t really see it in the statues because they were too far away, but I grabbed a photo and later, on my computer, I could see something different. But before I looked at the photo, it all clicked for me. That’s what had my attention with that girl. We were literally in the middle of China and she didn’t look as Chinese as her two friends. She looked different.
All right, my friends, I need to go tangential here for a minute or two and share this story with you. Hang on, because this is real Indiana Jones stuff. No, scratch that. I’ve never seen an Indiana Jones movie with a story line this good (and I’ve seen all of them).
More than 2,000 years ago, before the birth of Christ, the two most powerful empires on the planet were the Roman Empire and the Han Dynasty. These two superpowers of their time enjoyed a brisk trade relationship along the Silk Road. Yep, the very same trail we had been riding for the last few days. Between them (in what became Iran and its surrounding regions) lay a smaller empire called Parthia. For reasons only the Romans understood, Rome thought it would be a good idea to attack Parthia. They sent several Roman Legions to war (and to put this in perspective, a Roman Legion consisted of about 5,000 men). To everyone’s surprise (including, I would imagine, the Romans), the Parthians kicked Rome’s butt.
Wow, imagine that. Rome, defeated on the field of battle by the much smaller Parthian Empire. To put it mildly, things did not quite go the way the Romans thought they would.
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All of this severely disrupted trade between the Han Dynasty and the Romans, and nobody liked that. “Why the hell did you do that?” the Han Dynasty asked Rome. “We had a good thing going and you screwed it up.” At least that’s what I’m guessing the conversation went like. You get the idea.
Cooler minds prevailed and the Romans realized, yeah, that was a dumb move. The Romans told the Parthians, hey, it’s over, let’s be friends again. The war ended, the Chinese were happy, the Romans were happy, the Parthians were happy, and trade resumed. All’s well that ends well.
Well, sort of. There was still that matter of those pesky Roman legions that had invaded Parthia. They didn’t come back from that war, and for two thousand years, no one knew what happened to them. The Romans probably assumed their Legionnaires had all been slaughtered. No one knew until an Australian dude and a Chinese guy, both University archeologist types (starting to sound a little like Indiana Jones yet?) put a theory together in 1957. Hmmm, maybe those Romans had not been killed after all.
The Parthians, being bright enough to defeat the Romans, were not about to let the Legionnaires go home and perhaps attack them again in some future war. They didn’t want to kill the Romans, either. I guess they were kinder, gentler Parthians. Here’s where those two Aussie and Chinese archeologists enter the picture. They hypothesized that the Parthians told the errant Legionnaires, “Look, we don’t want to kill all you guys, but there’s no way we’re going to let you go back to Rome. And there’s no room for you here, either. Your only option is to keep heading east. Go to China. Maybe you crazy warmongering Italians will find nice Chinese girls and settle down.” With that, and as one might imagine, a hearty arrivederci, the Romans continued their eastward march straight into the middle of China.
And folks, the prevailing wisdom today is that is exactly what happened (although the prevailing wisdom evidently hasn’t prevailed very far, as I had never heard the story until that morning in Yongchang). In fact, prior to this theory surfacing, folks wondered why the Chinese referred to the area around Yongchang as Liqian. That’s not a Chinese word, and it’s unlike the name of any other Chinese town. The folks who know about these things tell me it is an unusual word in the Chinese language.
Liqian is pronounced “Lee Chee On.”
Get it yet?
Lee Chee On? Liqian?
Doesn’t it sound like “legion?” As in Roman legion?
A Chinese man in Liqian. This guy could be the Marlboro Man for a Chinese cigarette company!
I found all of this fascinating. I saw more than a few people around the Liqian area that had a distinct western appearance, and they all consented to my taking their photos when I asked. They recognize just how special their story is. The Chinese government is taking note of this area, too. They are developing a large theme park just outside of Yongchang with a Roman motif. We visited that theme park, and while we were there, Sergeant Zuo gave a book to me (printed in both English and Chinese) about the place. It is one of the two books I brought back from China, and that book is now one of my most prized possessions.
Imagine that: Roman legions, resettled in the middle of China, in a town called Liqian. And I rode there. On an RX3.
That photo at the top of this blog? All the gear, all the time?
Nah, it was nothing like that. One of the Zongshen guys had this idea about making a movie with a Roman Empire theme (you know, being as we were in Liqian and all that), and he bought along gladiator costumes. I’m not sure what Gresh and I were thinking (we’re not normally into gladiator movies) but we let those guys talk us into putting the costumes on and taking a few pics and videos. I guess you had to be there to understand it; it was all in the spirit of the ride.
Watch for our next Indiana Jones episode in China. It’s about the lost Buddhist grottos at Mo Gao in the Gobi Desert. There’s more good stuff coming your way. Stay tuned!
Want to read more about the ride across China? Pick up a copy of Riding China!
Here’s another story from good buddy Jose. These are his opinions about his worst gun, a Cobra Derringer. Jose gives us an interesting set of observations.
By Jose Armenta
Davis Industries of Chino, California, began manufacturing these cheap Derringers in 1982 until they were sued into oblivion in 1999. They are made of cast Zamak, a zinc alloy containing 93% zinc, 4% aluminum and 3% copper. You and I might call it “pot metal,” a material commonly used for inexpensive die cast model cars and other toys.
The Cobra Big Bore 38 Spl is small indeed.Looking down .38 caliber junk barrels.Pointing with index finger while firing with the middle finger. It’s the way some people shoot the Cobra Derringer, but I don’t recommend trying it. I don’t recommend this Derringer at all!
Cobra Enterprises acquired the Derringer manufacturing part of Davis and began producing identical guns in Salt Lake City, Utah. Then in 2016 someone had been carrying his Cobra Big Bore (in the 9mm Luger version) with the hammer resting on one of the firing pins, put it on a bench, and it discharged, hitting the gun’s owner in the stomach. I don’t know much about it except the guy sued Cobra and Hornady, the ammo manufacturer. In anticipation of a judgment against them, the company owner started another company, Bearman Industries, also in Salt Lake City. Cobra filed Chapter 7 bankruptcy in February 2020 and shortly thereafter Bearman took over Derringer production. And now Bearman is again plagued with consumer lawsuits.
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This example is a Cobra I bought new around 2014. It is of the typical Zamak pot metal construction with some kind of cheap steel rifled barrel liner. The trigger is absolutely horrid and the cross-pin safety is barely functional. It shoots best with handloaded 148 grain wadcutters because its 2.75-inch barrel is totally useless with hollow point ammo. The gun wouldn’t be so bad if the crossbar safety wasn’t so hard to disengage. I might try polishing the safety detent when I get some time.
The mystique of the derringer hide-away gun is deeply rooted in 1950’s Hollywood western movies, such as this still of Paladin from Have Gun Will Travel.
Firing a Derringer takes some practice. If you pull straight back on the trigger, it will not fire even with 20 pounds or more. To fire, the trigger must be pulled slightly downward and not straight back. An old time cowboy action shooter once taught me that Derringers are best fired with the middle finger on the trigger while the index finger points at the target alongside the barrel. You hold your hand outstretched with the fingers open. Now watch your middle and lower fingers as you slowly close your hand into a tight fist. Just before your finger contacts the palm of the hand, the middle finger moves slightly downward at the very end of the pull. Weird, huh? But it works!
Pressing the trigger straight back will get you nowhere with a Derringer. One must pull the trigger slightly downward to release the sear. This is accomplished pretty easily by using the middle finger. Try this: hold your hand outstretched with the fingers open. Now watch your middle and lower fingers as you slowly close your hand into a tight fist. Just before your finger contacts the palm of the hand, the middle finger moves slightly downward at the very end of the “pull”. Weird, huh? But it works!
Check out these trigger pull directions from the manual.
Using this middle finger method works well at across-the-card-table distance. However, my index finger is a bit longer than the barrel so I have to bend my finger a little to keep it away from the muzzle.
Would I recommend the Cobra Big Bore Derringer to anyone? Absolutely NOT!
But I’ll still keep mine as a conversation piece. It’s a fantastic example of a crappy gun. I shoot it a couple times a year just to remind myself of what a pile of junk this thing really is. Someday maybe I’ll find an old Remington .41 rimfire Derringer just for fun. I understand the Remingtons have no safety at all and may be equally as crappy. Who knows?
My idea of a good restoration and your idea of a good restoration may differ, but you know deep down inside that I’m always right. I am the arbiter of cool. I am the final word, I am…Omni Joe. Here are 5 common restoration mistakes that drive me crazy.
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Sin #1: Gas tank liners.
That sealer crap people pour into their motorcycle gas tanks is the worse invention of all time. Guys swear by this junk but don’t listen to those lazy bastards. When I read the words, gas tank liner and/or Caswell sealer in a motorcycle description I know an amateur’s hands have been fiddling the motorcycle. Who would pour that devil’s goop into a nice motorcycle gas tank? It makes me wonder what else they screwed up. The way to fix a leaking, rusty gas tank is to get rid of the rust and weld/braze any holes. Any other method is destined to fail. There’s no excuse for using devil’s goop, YouTube is lousy with videos explaining how to clean out a rusty gas tank and how to stop it from re-rusting.
Sin #2: Repainting serviceable original finishes.
Nothing annoys me like a guy posting up a 90% perfect, original-paint motorcycle and asking where he can get it repainted. Stop! If the paint has a few chips or is faded a tiny bit leave the damn thing alone. One of the most underused old-sayings is, “It’s only original once.” No matter how shiny and beautiful you think your topcoat turned out its still vandalism. There are many phony re-pop’s running around, don’t make your motorcycle one. By painting over your once desirable survivor you lower its historic value. Listen, I’m not against repainting really bad original body parts, lord knows my Z1 needs it but I know anything I do that covers over the factory work erases a story, and vintage motorcycles are commodities without a story.
Sin #3: Over restoration.
When the Japanese bikes that are considered classic today were first sold they had acceptable build quality. For some strange reason many motorcycle restoration experts go way overboard making the motorcycle a show bike that bears little resemblance to real motorcycles. Chrome back in the day was thin and yours should be too. Nothing depresses me as much as these tarted-up travesties. The nerve of some Johnny-Come-Lately with a fat wallet and no soul thinking he can render a better motorcycle than the factory. Keep it simple and try to match the level of finish that you remember. Otherwise, what’s the point? It’s already worth less because you damaged the original build by trying to improve the bike. Why pour money into the thing making it something it never was?
Sin #4: Giving a damn about numbers.
As people get deeper into the vintage bike hobby they grow ever more insane. It’s not enough to have the correct parts anymore: Now you must have the exact build date on the part to suit your motorcycle’s VIN number. This is madness. Nobody except lunatics and bike show judges will care that your sprocket cover was made a year or two after your bike left the factory. The only part number that matters is the one that can get your bike registered for the road. I’ve seen people on vintage groups debating a slight casting change or a vestigial nub as if it were the most important thing in the world. People like that have no business owning a motorcycle; they should go into accounting or better yet, prison.
Sin #5: Parking it.
The final and biggest sin of all is to restore a motorcycle and then park it. I can over look all the other sins, even tank sealer, if the owner rides his vintage motorcycle. Get the thing muddy. Do a burn out. Ride it to shows in the rain. Honor the motorcycle by using it. A show motorcycle that is too valuable or too clean to ride is nothing, less than worthless. The machine was built for you. It has a seat and controls for you. The engine wants to pull. Do the right thing by your motorcycle and your sins will be washed away, my brothers.
I liked good buddy Jose’s blog about his Marlin Glenfield .22 rifle, and we thought it would be a good idea to include a Rimfire Series category here on ExNotes. When the idea first surfaced, I thought we might have done a blog or two on .22 rimfire firearms. When I searched through our blogs, I found that we’ve already posted six .22 blogs. For your quick reference, here they are:
We’ll be including a category for these on our Tales of the Gun page, too.
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Watch for upcoming rimfire stories in this series, including a blog or two on the GSG .22 1911, the Ruger Single Six, the Smith and Wesson Model 41, a Mannlicher CZ Model 455, a Trainer CZ Model 452 , a Winchester Model, a Remington Custom Shop Model 504, a Ruger Mannlicher 10/22, a 200th year Ruger 10/22, a target grade Ruger Mark III, a vintage Winchester Model 62, and more. Yep, we like our rimfires. Big time. Stay tuned, Amigos!
If you’re on the Pacific Coast Highway and you’re riding through the little fishing village of Moss Landing, it’s nearly impossible to miss the moto art at the J&S Eagle Iron and Leather Shop, although that’s exactly what I did on a trek north a few years (no doubt because it was raining so hard). On the way back, though, the sun was out and I when I saw these I knew I had to stop for a few photos. I shot these photos about 5 years ago and I don’t know if these moto sculptures are still there. It might be worth a ride to check it out.
Ernie Buck, the store manager, told me these gigantic bike sculptures are Hecho en Mexico and go for about $20K each. I guess that’s not that far-fetched considering what a new Harley or BMW costs these days, and these things are easily three times the size of those bikes.
The first moto gigante was constructed mostly of license plates. Bear in mind that all three of these sculptures use giant tractor tires (that will give you a sense of their size). Like I said above, they’re huge!
The next one was fabricated from horseshoes. Horseshoes! Imagine that! Where do artists get their ideas?
It was cool. I liked the gangster whitewalls. I had a set of those on my ’92 Softail. You know, the top of those tires was about the same height as me!
The third bike was fabricated almost entirely of shovels.
Maybe the bike above is a Shovelhead (you know, the one that came after the Panhead). It was cool.
You know, the bikes above make for interesting displays, but I wondered where I would put such a thing if I owned it. You’d need a huge lawn or a spacious home in which to display this kind of art, and even then, I’m pretty sure Sue would have none of it. They sure were interesting and they made for cool photos.
The Pacific Coast Highway is an amazing road and it’s always been one of my favorite rides.
200+ pages of single-spaced, profusely-illustrated motorcycle content from the two Joes who started ExNotes. The collected works, so to speak. With selections including magazine articles, road tests, opinion pieces, travel stories, ExNotes blog posts, and even a few listicles. American bikes, European bikes, Japanese bikes, Indian bikes, Chinese bikes, vintage bikes, modern bikes, dream bikes, wild conjectures, and more. A Foreword by none other than Jack Lewis, perhaps the brightest and most literate star in the motojourno constellation. It’s about to land. The book is already written. All we need is the title. That’s where you can help. That, and of course, buying the book.
We’ve got a few titles we’re considering:
Dos Joes Dos Moto Joes Two Good Joes The Two Moto Joes Moto Stories from Joe and Joe The Collected Works of Joe and Joe The Collected Works of Two Moto Guys Motorcycle Stuff Motorcycle Musings Please Click on the Popup Ads
We’re not limiting our title selection to the above. If you’ve got a better idea, let’s hear it. Whoever makes the winning suggestion gets a free, signed copy of whatever we decide to call it. After we’re dead, it will be worth a lot of money, and we’re not spring chickens.
Send us your thoughts in the comments section. Let us know what you think. Operators are standing by.
Good buddy Jose, who has written for us before (I’ll give you a link to his other articles at the end of this blog), sent this story to us a day or two ago. I enjoyed reading it and I think you will, too.
By Jose Armenta
Hi Joe!
I have one you might like….
“Minute of Golf Ball”
I was at the range two weeks ago on a very busy day fooling around with the first 22 semi auto rifle my parents bought me for Christmas when I was 12 years old (um, I mean Santa Claus did). It’s a Marlin Glenfield Model 60 and it came with a 4x scope.
Anyhow some years ago I mounted an inexpensive BSA “Sweet 22” 4×9 scope on it, I mean really inexpensive like 60 or 70 beans. I put four golf balls out on the ground by my targets at 100 yards while some kids and the range hands looked on. Using bulk “rot gut” Federal ammo, I picked off all four balls with four shots. Golf balls fly about 10 to 15 feet when hit with a 22, sort of like when you hit them with a chipper iron. Two kids with a Ruger 10/22 tried bouncing them to no avail. So next range break I set them back up and did it all over again, and the results were 4 for 4!
I told the kids my 50+ year old department store rifle was “minute of golf ball.”
Oh, and yes, it does have the famous Glenfield squirrel stock. I learned to hunt with this rifle so it will always be my favorite.
Who still shoots their first 22 rifle?
Jose
Jose, that’s awesome.
To answer your question (Who still shoots their first 22 rifle?): I know I do, good buddy Greg does, and I suspect quite a few of us do. My first .22 was handed down from my Dad, who bought it when he was 8 years old for $8 in New Jersey of all places (a state with what are probably the most stringent gun laws in the country). I like your story a lot, Jose. It’s a good story, it hits on a topic that many of us can relate to, and it suggests a new blog line: The Rimfire Series. Thanks for submitting this to us, and if you have more stories, please send them in!
ExhaustNotes recently featured Honda’s 305cc twin in both its Dream version and the Super Hawk version. I figured I might as well jump on the bandwagon with my own 305 Honda stories.
I owned three Dream 305 bikes in the early 1970’s. This was back in the days when people thought Japanese motorcycles were junk, much like Chinese bikes are thought of today. Even though the Dreams were only five to seven years old they seemed much older, like Japanese bikes were aging in dog years. When a Japanese bike would stop running the first thing an owner would do is strip the screw heads because he used the wrong screwdriver and then complain about cheap, cheesehead Japanese screws. I was one of those guys. Never mind that there was no need to use a hardened, grade 8 screw that is threaded into soft aluminum. If you think people are stupid now, back then a simple, maladjusted contact point or dirty carburetor would doom a Japanese motorcycle and cause the bike to be sold as junk.
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When I was a kid I bought a lot of those junk bikes and today I can take apart 50-year-old Japanese bikes without too much trouble. Have the screws hardened with age or have I become more educated in the proper use of hand tools? Regardless, it made the mid-60s Japanese bikes inexpensive for a young man on a budget, like me. I never paid over 25 dollars for a 305 Honda. I got two of them for 15 dollars each. At the time, I was earning about 2 dollars an hour washing dishes so I could nearly buy a motorcycle every day. That’s some cheap motorcycling even considering that the USA was still on the gold standard and those were pre-inflation adjusted dollars.
From three Dreams, a 1962, 1964 and 1965, I took the best engine and combined it with the best transmission. I used the straightest frame and the gas tank that had the least number of dents and the best chrome. I went through all the shock absorbers hand testing them and picked the four that seemed to damp best. (Two rear shocks, two front shocks) I tested all 6 wheels and selected the truest of the bunch along with the thickest brake linings.
I had one clear title and a bill of sale for the other two bikes but the good frame I used didn’t match the title. My pop and I fixed this by welding over the existing frame numbers, grinding the steering neck smooth and re-stamping the numbers to match the title. We made a neat job of it except one number was slightly out of position. That wasn’t unusual even for factory stamping.
Growing up there was a Honda dealer not far away on 36th street in Miami; it might still be there. All us kids hung out at that dealership and pestered the parts guys until they started giving us good deals on new old stock. Again, even though the Dreams were not that old the Honda factory had moved on to newer, brighter motorcycles and those Dream parts were already obsolete. Honda wanted to sell CB750s; they didn’t want to mess around with old sheet metal framed 305s.
I bought a brand new, original, black vinyl dual seat for twenty dollars. Imagine that: the seat cost more than the motorcycle. Honda used to sell touchup lacquer paint in little tin cans that held about a cup of paint. The parts guys let me rummage inside a big, dusty, cardboard box of mixed colors looking for the original red color. The guy got tired of me digging around and said, “Why don’t you give me ten dollars and take the whole box?” Man, I painted dozens of motorcycles with that sweet candy tone Honda paint. It was quality stuff. JC Whitney, the Amazon of that era had Carlisle tires in the odd, narrow 16-inch size the dream required.
After a bit of bodywork, painting and assembly, I had what looked like a brand new 305cc Honda Dream for a little over a hundred dollars. This was the biggest and fastest motorcycle I had owned to date. The Dream would top out around 90 mph and I could cruise on the South Florida highways all day long doing 70 mph. The Dreams have a single carb and single ignition points so they are very easy to keep in tune. Mine would outrun a Honda 350 four cylinder up to 80 mph. It had more grunt off the line. You could short shift it and the motor would lug down and purr. The 360-degree crank made it sound sort of like a Triumph.
There were a couple things I didn’t like about the Dream. The front end was a leading link, sheet metal affair. Unlike the smaller Honda forks with two individual swing arms that chattered the front wheel in hard corners, the Dream swing arm was one piece and was routed behind the fender. Still, the thing bobbed up and down in corners with a seasick inducing motion. I think better front shocks would have cured this issue.
That new dual seat was not very comfortable. Honda built the seat with almost no padding; all it had was a few dozen springs stretched between the seat frame to give the seat some cushion. It was a squirmy feeling seat that never gave you a firm platform to work off of. Other than that the bike was reliable. All the electrics, including the electric starter worked every time and it never left me stranded.
I sold the Dream after a few years as I had too many motorcycles and was getting more into dirt bikes. Before I sold it I took the Dream down to the Honda dealer on 36th street. The whole place emptied out to see my bike. They remembered me scratching around their parts department for bits.
When it comes to their 305cc motorcycles Honda’s Hawk was always the cooler bike. It looked great and it was sporty. The Dream was kind of stodgy, an old man’s bike. I think I’d like to own a Dream engine in a Hawk frame. It would still be plenty fast and really be a zero maintenance motorcycle to enjoy in our too-modern world.
