Riding the Legend
THE FOUR: Riding the Legend
20 years later, it has lost nothing with age
CAMRON E. BUSSARD
MR. ALVAREZ WAS NOT HAPPY. FOR THE THIRD time in less than two weeks, he had caught me with a motorcycle magazine hidden in my freshman Spanish textbook. But I really couldn't help myself. After all, it was early 1970, and I just couldn't read enough about Honda's exciting new CB750 Four.
Unfortunately, Mr. Alvarez could, and he expelled me from his class. Since then. I’ve continued to have a terrible time with foreign languages, and a wonderful time with motorcycles.
I had to wait until 1976 to get my own CB750, but I still felt I had missed an important piece of history by never having ridden one of the original 1969 models. So, when Robert Politz called the Cycle World offices from Napoleonville, Louisiana, and offered us a ride on his mint-condition ’69 CB750, I knew that I simply had to be the one to do it. Not only would it probably be my last chance to reconcile the past, his offer carried even more significance because this year marks the 20th anniversary of theCB750.
Politz, a 28-year-old operations technician for Dow Chemical, bought his 750—serial number 3302 —for $1000 two years ago when he saw it gathering dust in a dealer’s collection. All he had to do was clean the carbs, and the bike was ready to ride. It didn’t need any other restoration because it had just 4196 miles showing on its odometer and was already in original condition, from the chrome-plated fenders to the sand-cast engine cases.
When Politz first rolled his 750 out of his workshop for me to ride, I suddenly felt as if I were back in high school and about to depart for a date with a cheerleader. The bike seemed just as beautiful to me today as it did the first time I saw one in a magazine 20 years ago. My gaze drifted from the gleaming front disc brake to the four upswept exhaust pipes, the heavily finned engine and the teal-blue-painted fuel tank, sidepanels, headlight shell and airbox. My memory of the bike’s beauty was almost as strong as the reality of Politz’s machine sitting in front of me.
As we talked about some of the bike’s finer details, Politz lifted the choke lever and punched the starter button. After a few blips of the throttle, he turned the machine over to me. A 20-year wait was finally over.
I sat on the bike for a moment, letting the engine warm up, and my first thoughts were about how small the thing seemed by today’s standards. A slim, almost skinny, fuel tank and a low, narrowish seat made the 750 feel like a mid-sized machine; indeed, despite its displacement and weight, the Four was very unintimidating, feeling almost similar in size to Kawasaki’s current EX500 Twin.
As I flipped the choke lever to Off and rode away, I thought the most impressive thing about the bike was its sound. Noise-restriction laws were not as stringent back in the early Seventies, so the 750 Four’s engine produced more noise; the exhaust barked with a noticeably louder and sharper note than current stock motorcycles can muster. And the deep, throaty exhaust had a nasty rasp when I rolled off the throttle, so I found myself accelerating hard, far beyond the speed limit, just so I could back off the gas and listen to the revs drop.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t nostalgically transported back in time when riding the bike; it didn’t feel old or antiquated.
In many ways, in fact, it felt as modern and up-to-date as some current motorcycles. It handled the curves with composure that belied its age, and always felt under control due in large part to its high, wide handlebar.
Better yet, I was shocked to find that even though this motorcycle was 20 years old, it still had a lot of get-upand-go. Even by today’s standards, the remarkably smooth engine revved quickly and pulled hard to over 100 mph. I always could hear the engine and the pipes, even at high speeds, so it seemed as if I was traveling a lot faster than the speedometer indicated.
There was something about the combination of the sound, the performance, the handling and the upright seating position that made this two-decades-old collection of parts and paint more pure motorcycle than anything I have ridden in many years. I couldn’t place my finger on it at first, but the bike seemed to whisper at possibilities and adventures; so, rather than heading back to Politz’s place, I wanted to keep riding, head maybe across the wide open spaces of Texas and into the back country of New Mexico.
My reverie was cut short, however, when I realized that I didn't want to push this valuable machine too hard or too long. Not only that, although the front suspension worked surprisingly well by today’s standards, the rear shocks were a tad stiff. In addition, the seat is nice and wide, and flat, but it’s also quite hard; so, the overall ride wasn’t as comfortable as I expected. And the single front disc brake, while phenomenal for its day, simply didn’t offer the effortless stopping power of today’s discs.
Still, these complaints are, in the end, perfectly forgivable when you consider that many current bikes aren’t much more civilized than this 1969 CB750. In its day, this Honda ushered in the age of the superbike; but now it harkens back to a time when motorcycles were simpler, more versatile and, in many ways, more enjoyable. And while it won’t outperform today’s sportbikes, it is at least on par with most modern cruisers in terms of handling and performance. Not bad for a 20-year-old.
Some people have suggested that Honda should start building this single-cam 750 once again. But, Honda is no more likely to build a CB750 today than I am to order a meal in Spanish. The company believes that very few people today would buy a bike that is as technically simple and has such broad intentions as the CB750. But, after my ride, I’m not sure I agree.
So, things really haven’t changed for me in 20 years. Getting my hands on a new bike as appealing as the CB750 is as difficult today as it was when I was just a teenager. I still have to resort to looking at the bike in pages of motorcycle magazines. I don’t regret that I never learned to speak Spanish; but more than ever. I’m convinced that living without a motorcycle as versatile, as sexy and as thrilling as that original 750 Four is as frustrating now as it was then. Œ
