Motorcycling in the 1970s Volume 4:: Funky Motorcycling! Biking in the 1970s - Part Three

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INTRODUCTION

This series of books is, in some respects, a love letter to motorcycling. It has certainly been written from the heart. I started riding powered two-wheelers in the mid 1970s, on a fabulous little 50cc ‘popsicle purple’ Yamaha FS1-E, and straight away I felt that riding set me free in a way that was not only instantly joyful, but also meaningful and somehow magically transcendental.

I was also aware I was stepping into a great, flowing river of history, and I was deeply glad of it. I quickly became as interested in motorcycling’s past as its present; hungry to find out about the fascinating machines and singular people that made motorcycling what it was, and had been. And I began to explore what it was that set motorcyclists apart from the majority and made biking so uniquely enjoyable. As an avid rider and reader, I became a student of ‘the sport’.

Those thoughts and feelings have endured for nearly 40 years now and while I still find motorcycling in all its aspects as boundlessly fascinating as did my teenage self, it is the period in which I plunged in and joined the flow, the time when I was at my most impressionable and when my mind was at its most absorbent, that still holds the greatest interest for me today. The 1970s. The time when I fell in love with motorcycling.

The first book is a general history, briefly told, of motorcycling in Britain from its beginnings at the very end of the 19th century up to 1969 (interwoven to an extent with two-wheeled goings on in the USA and elsewhere). It charts motorcycling’s pioneering years, skips through two world wars, tells of social acceptability in the 1920s, hard times in the 1930s and growing ostracisation and decline in the 1950s and 1960s. It attempts to make sense of the motorcycling world order, and of motorcycling’s place in society and everyday life, and sets the scene for the larger, more detailed volumes which follow.

Taken together, Books Two, Three and Four form a comprehensive, in-depth history of the bikes and motorcycling trends and events in the 1970s. They tell the story of the arrival of the superbike, the continuing and inexorable rise of the Japanese motorcycle industry and, partly from an insider’s point of view, the wasteful, lingering death of its British equivalent. They tell of the thrilling and extraordinary sporting machines from Italy and of the bulletproof BMW twins designed in Bavaria. They tell of motorcycling culture and of two-wheeled life and lives.

In the 1970s, motorcycling became a leisure activity in a new and exciting way, there were more motorcyclists than ever before, or since, and dozens of new and ever more fabulous and technologically advanced motorcycles crammed the showrooms every year. It was the time of Jarno Saarinen and Giacomo Agostini and of Kenny Roberts and Barry Sheene. The time of Bike magazine, of Motorcycle Sport and Cycle in the USA, of Mark Williams, Dave Minton and LJK Setright in his pomp.

I argue that although the protagonists were largely unaware of it at the time, the 1970s as a whole can now be seen to have been a golden era in the history of the movement, a pivotal decade which represents a high point in the history of motorcycling that is never likely to be matched.

The final book in the series, entitled ‘The Magic of Motorcycling’, takes a sideways look at the 1970s classic motorcycle scene in the second decade of the 21st century and explores what it is that makes motorcycling so special to so many people yet an anathema to a great many more.

And a series of appendices list nostalgic, amusing and sometimes poignant reminders of the life and culture of the 1970s, reminding us of the global goings-on and domestic backdrop underlying the motorcycling scene and, of course, all lesser matters.

Books Two to Five all feature a short chapter containing potted biographies of the interviewees quoted in the text.

Altogether, this gigantic and far reaching but, I hope, always coherent tome, is an attempt to make sense of motorcycling and celebrate its apogee in the 1970s. I have tried to set down a great many facts in a logical yet entertaining way and, as well as aiming to be informative, I have strived to connect with fellow enthusiasts and devotees at an emotional level, and also to convey to non-motorcycling readers something of what is wonderful and fascinating about powered two-wheelers.

CHAPTER ONE

GOLD WING

Honda had achieved great racing success in the 1960s and in 1969 it had produced the world’s first four cylinder superbike, but it was nonetheless still regarded as a company that was more conservative than innovative. But in 1975 Honda surprised the motorcycling world by releasing the GL1000 Gold Wing, a 1000cc motorcycle of gigantic proportions which was, Honda argued, the first bike of its kind ever designed.

1975 Honda GL1000 Gold Wing

A super smooth and sophisticated touring machine, the Gold Wing was a hefty flat four, shaft drive motorcycle aimed at the BMW type rider. Though not as fast, nimble or fine handling as a BMW R90S, it would cover intercontinental mileages reliably and in comfort. But this was a time before the motorcycle market was subdivided into segments by marketing men and bikes were not categorised in most motorcyclists’ minds. Motorcycles were judged in the round and all many potential buyers could see was that Honda had bungled by releasing a comically large and massively overweight motorcycle as their new, top of the range superbike. It seemed a gross misjudgement. A joke.

At first sales were embarrassingly slow and Honda did indeed seem to have made a mistake, but incredibly, over the next four decades, the bike became hugely profitable and a global phenomenon, and as it did so it became even and ever more gargantuan, growing to 1,832cc and evolving into a sort of luxury super-cruiser equipped with a massive front fairing and similarly huge integral storage boxes at the rear.

Furthermore, Gold Wings would come to be accessorised with hi-tech hi-fi music systems, with footboards, with extra badges and swathes of chrome, with plush armchair seats fitted with cup holders in their armrests and with colour matched banking luggage trailers that would be towed in their wake. Whether wittingly or no, whether by accident or design, in 1975 Honda sowed the seeds for the invention of a whole new category of touring motorcycle and created a machine that has become an institution and an indispensable part of the company’s model range, especially in the USA.

But in Britain, back in 1975, Gerald Davison was not impressed.

Gerald Davison: I had to admit the Kawasaki Z1 was a terrific bike, really phenomenal, and all I wanted was something better. At that time in our development, and it’s probably the case all the time, we needed a pinnacle to the range. We needed something that people might talk about today as having a halo effect. I think that’s something that’s needed for a real enthusiast market of any sort, and because of the Kawasaki we’d lost top notch position.

I think the code name for the Gold Wing was the King and I was told we were going to get something very, very different, not like the Kawasaki at all and I thought Wow! I had been trying to get R&D to think about something like a V4 range, something that would take us in a different direction but that was very demanding technology at the time and probably not possible until we moved to water cooling. But that is what I ideally wanted. What we got instead was the Gold Wing. I was horrified.

Honda R&D was very preoccupied with the fast developing car range and I think the obvious truth is the Gold Wing was probably created more to meet some imagined demand in America than it was for the UK and Europe so I was very disappointed because we were waiting for a greyhound. That was the point, we needed a top of the range bike that would suddenly storm all the standing quarter figures and so on.

The Gold Wing was powered by a slow revving water cooled 999cc flat four engine

The Gold Wing didn’t give us that, or the halo effect we were looking for, but it did go on to carve out a little market all to itself before it developed into the leviathan thing that came from the United States. That was something else. The first Gold Wings were a little bit more lithe. I remember taking one to the Island for the TT and wearing away both sides of the stand. There were no feet left on it by the time I’d finished it was grounding so easily, so it was a fun bike to ride but it was a kind of a sidecar bike wasn’t it really? We needed a greyhound and we didn’t get that.

The original Honda Gold Wing was powered by a slow revving water cooled 999cc flat four engine with cylinders that were integral with the crankcase in a car-type arrangement, and cams, driven by toothed belts, which were straight from the Honda Civic car and needed adjustment only every 24,000 miles. The engine, which had to be removed from frame for serious engine work to be carried out and would have to be stripped right down in order to be rebored, was designed for good servicing accessibility. A section of frame unbolted which allowed the engine to be slid out but home tinkering was clearly not anticipated. The idea was the bike would be maintenance free for the owner.

The Gold Wing was bigger than any Japanese bike had ever been and the arguably the closest to a car any bike had ever been in technological terms. It even had a pull choke like a car. The Gold Wing had a large radiator and a cooling fan and water circulation was controlled thermostatically, it had shaft drive with an integral shock absorbing device to remove snatch, disc brakes front and rear and a wide, comfortable seat.

Its large tank was in fact a dummy which contained the electrics, the radiator overflow tank, a kickstart lever for emergency use and a handy storage box. The actual fuel tank was sited below the seat to lower the centre of gravity and a mechanical fuel pump was therefore needed to get the petrol uphill to the carburettors. There was no wasted space and the bike had a squat, dense, completely solid appearance, redolent of strength and concentrated power, although it was not un-handsome in its original unfaired form.

The most advanced motorcycle ever made. So claimed the British advertisements for Honda’s GL1000

On the move, testers wrote of electric motor smoothness and a cushioned ride and found no vibration worth mentioning. There were some concerns its clutch, which was the same as that of the CB750, might not be entirely up to the job. The big Honda provoked a bemused reaction among British bikers. There were jokes about its portliness and its weight and, perhaps inevitably, it was known as the ‘Lead Wing’.

Dave Minton tested the Honda Gold Wing in Motorcyclist Illustrated in late 1975 and decided it was a fabulous bike. It could be criticised for its weight but actually, he argued, it boasted a better power to weight ratio than a Black Shadow. And the fact it lacked the excitement of a sportster was not the bike’s fault, according to Minton. That was not what it was built for. It was a heavyweight, long distance express. Reliable, durable, strong and capable of reaching 120 mph fully loaded and of delivering high speed cruising for hour after hour, day after day.

Dave Minton: It was ground-breaking. A luxury tourer that was highly refined and also a very sophisticated motorcycle. I was mildly critical because while I was completely won over by the performance I thought it could have been delivered from a simpler engine and when the six cylinder version came along later well, you can’t even criticise it because it’s so obviously a caricature of a motorcycle rather than a plain and simple tourer.

Without fluids, the Honda GL1000 Gold Wing weighed nearly 41 stone according to this brochure produced by Honda UK

The original Gold Wing was big and heavy but it was a sweet motorcycle to ride. Very forgiving and once you got it rolling you barely ever needed to change gear. My wife Eileen and I went on holiday on one right down to the south of France to Menton, with a group of other motorcyclists, a complete miscellany of machines. There were about 20 of us, sports bikes of various sorts and even an Aussie on a Silk and the Gold Wing was up with the best of them, two-up through France for two days averaging 90mph. Provided you treated it with respect, which meant keeping all the wires tight on every corner, it wasn’t too bad at all, they would start grounding long before they started waltzing.

Later, Minton was given a Gold Wing for long-term appraisal and, in keeping with his road testing philosophy, he decided to carry out some routine maintenance at his Herefordshire home.

Dave Minton: I would always try to discover, through riding a motorcycle, whether it had achieved what I believed to be its designer’s aims. If it was a utility I would treat it as a utility motorcycle and I wouldn’t expect it to perform like a sports bike. If it was a tourer, I’d try to tour on it. That was the fundamental search that I would carry out. Ownership qualities always ranked very high with me and I can remember baffling Honda when I had one of the first Gold Wings. They’d lent it to me for about four months and the rear tyre wore which would happen very quickly if you rode them fast, and I asked them if they would supply me with a replacement for me to fit myself and they couldn’t understand why I wanted to do that. Well, with a motorcycle of that weight I thought, what do you do if you have a puncture? This was a chance to find out.

Somewhat reluctantly they supplied me with a tyre which I fitted at home by myself and it wasn’t too bad at all really! At that time, of course, tyres were tubed and the biggest problem was getting the old tyre to unstick from the rim. I put it in a vice and kept squeezing until it popped it off and after that using sufficiently long, flat tyre levers I got the tyre off and altogether it wasn’t too difficult.

Minton concluded his original test with the following statement: ‘To summarise I would say that the Gold Wing is what could well turn out to be an historic motorcycle in that it might well represent the peak of non-sporting, conventional motorcycle, mass production achievement. Not, as the factory claims, a breakthrough in technology or sophistication, or anything like that at all, but perhaps the last of the old school.’

Despite Minton’s enthusiasm, Gold Wing sales in Britain continued to be slow, but the luxury touring market in the USA started to become big business for Honda in the late 1970s and in 1979 a dedicated manufacturing plant was set up in Marysville, Ohio to manufacture Gold Wings in the USA. The following year the GL1100 and Interstate versions were released. The Gold Wing had found its direction.

JACK THE GIANT KILLER

Honda’s mini masterpiece. The CB400/4

In 1975 Honda released the CB400/4, a jewel of a bike that, in Britain at least, was recognised as a classic from the very start. The smallest four cylinder production motorcycle in the world and quite a small machine altogether, the Honda CB400/4 was a miniature CB750 with modern, sporty styling that appealed to British eyes, if not American ones. Riders were denied four silencers but instead were given a four into one system with fantastic sweeping downpipes that looked even better. So good, in fact, it was chromium plated art.

1975 Honda CB400/4 (Classic Bikes)

The 400/4’s engine was sewing machine smooth. It was much slimmer than the CB750 with clean, simple lines. It had short, flattish bars and foot controls set further back than the Japanese norm. And although the bike only had the same basic frame and forks as earlier middleweight Hondas and its rear shock absorbers could be found wanting, it was nimble and somehow handled more sweetly than could have been expected. This and its overall willingness gave it an endearing character.

It was a bike that linked back to the factory’s 1960s racers but young riders weren’t too bothered about that. It was good looking in its own right. It was great fun to ride. Its smooth, free revving, in-line four cylinder engine could take whatever abuse was given (usually plenty). It was fast enough, it was good handling enough, and all in all it was a thoroughly ‘together’ motorcycle.

Honda UK advertising from 1975

Gerald Davison: The 400/4 was a brilliant bike with a wonderful engine. The timing was right. It had a fresh look with the four-into-one pipes. It was a bike that was most photographed from one side only because of that. No one ever took a picture of the other side. The only thing was it was too smooth, it was like a sewing machine and it had no real character although people were excited by its smoothness because it set a new standard.

Dave Minton: The 400/4 was just superb! It really was. A superb little motorbike and a joy to ride. Amazing performance. You felt like Jack the Giant Killer on it. Woe betide the bloke on the CB750 in front of you because you could get under his elbows with it. There was only one other middleweight motorcycle that impressed me as much and that was the Moto Morini three and a half Sport which could just about hold its own with a 400/4.

1975 Honda CB400/4 F1 (Classic Bikes)

You could tour on the Morini if you wished, but the Honda was hopeless for that. Forget it! It was the kind of motorcycle on which you start racing fly specks on your goggles. You see a dot in the distance and you’re going to catch it and you don’t! You can’t relax on a 400/4. It’s not built for that. The Morini wasn’t so intense but if you concentrated and really stirred it along it was a motorcycle capable of excelling itself and it could perform almost to the level of the 400/4, and you could relax on it. But the Honda 400/4 has a definite place in my affections, very much so.

Gerald Davison: There was a saying that still gets bandied about, race on a Sunday, sell on a Monday and certainly through the seventies that was still true and that was why we had to get back into racing and go to the Island again and the 400/4 immediately did a fantastic job for us, straight out of the box, with John Kidson winning the Formula Three race on one in 1977.

Dave Minton: They say in Japanese business nothing happens by chance. Well, almost nothing. I was told a very interesting story about the 400/4 by a Japanese journalist. Japanese factories are very disciplined. People do their jobs and the demarcation zones are quite clearly marked as to where responsibilities start and end. Honda had brought out the 350/4 to appeal to the American market. It was assumed that it would be very popular with inexperienced motorcyclists who wanted a multi but it flopped abysmally. It was exported here too and to Europe but it didn’t catch on and they ended up with loads of complete engines back in Japan.

The American market Honda CB350/4. Not a success (Michael’s Motorcycles)

1979 Honda CB400/4 F2 (Classic Bikes)

They were going to write the project off as something that didn’t work out and accept the loss but then some motorcycle enthusiasts from Honda’s production department asked if they could do something with it. Honda said yes so using parts and equipment that was available to them from spares bins they turned the 350 engine into a 400 and built a sportster. They took all the touring auxiliaries off the 350, altered the riding position slightly and turned it into a proper little sports bike. It sold like hot cakes the world over, especially in Britain, and it’s probably the only time that anything like that has ever happened in Honda.

The Honda CB400/4 was an important bike in Britain and hugely popular. It was a mini superbike that encouraged fast, sporting riding and could take being redlined in every gear, but it was also sweet, well balanced and forgiving. Its owners adored it. They felt great connectedness with it. But in the USA sales were disappointing and after just four years it would be replaced in the Honda range by a plain and relatively unloved parallel twin. To British enthusiasts, the decision seemed incomprehensible.

SHAFTED

Yamaha XS650 twin, 1975

At the mid-point of the 1970s, Yamaha’s fiery two-strokes were selling as well as ever but the factory had yet to establish a large capacity superbike in its range and the conventional, old fashioned, British-style XS650, the once vibratory, ill-handling parallel twin that had been tamed by Percy Tait, was still the biggest Yamaha for sale in Britain. The internally complex TX750 had been discontinued without the promising but problematic twin ever being officially imported by Mitsui UK and Yamaha’s engineers had gone back to their drawing boards for a complete rethink.

Something a little bit different. The Yamaha XS750 triple (Classic Bikes)

1977 Yamaha XS750 (Classic Bikes)

In 1976 Yamaha was ready to try again and the factory launched a completely new motorcycle, the XS750. It wasn’t a superbike, the game having been moved on by the Kawasaki Z1, but it was a competent and interesting large capacity motorcycle, full of innovative ideas and different to anything else on the market. And it was to Yamaha’s great credit the company’s engineers had attempted something truly unique, rather than simply build a bigger Honda CB750, as Kawasaki had done or a better one, as Suzuki was busy trying to achieve.

The XS750 was indeed different. A three cylinder double overhead camshaft four-stroke sports tourer, it had shaft drive made by Getrag (who made BMW’s shafts), alloy wheels, three brake discs, self cancelling indicators (new at the time) and vacuum fuel taps. Having a three cylinder engine, it was narrower than the Z1 and CB750. It also had a distinct character and made an extraordinary and peculiarly pleasing sound. It was a heavy bike, partly because of the shaft, and by comparison with its rivals, a bit lacking in urge, but it was a still reasonably quick and its handling, although less than perfect when pressing on, was acceptable for fast touring.

Supershaft!

Despite its handling and performance limitations, the bike was well received by the press but sales were modest, partly because it wasn’t as fast as its four pot rivals and partly because it lacked their dashing looks. Although modern and up to date in appearance, like Honda’s Gold Wing it was a dense, solid, worthy looking bike lacking obvious panache or elan. The bike kicked off a bit of an advertising war between Yamaha and BMW (Supershaft versus Meistershaft) and forced BMW to cut its prices.

ITALIAN BEAUTIES

Dramatic, fantastic, stylish Italian motorcycles continued to arrive that were full of panache and elan. After first building a close copy of Honda’s 500/4, the Quattro, engineers working for Argentinian tycoon Alejandro De Tomaso shoved the revived Benelli brand further into the spotlight by producing the 750 Sei, a sensational six cylinder red and chrome superbike (no other word for it) styled by Ghia.

Dramatic, fantastic, stylish Italian motorcycles

(Rod Ker)

The Sei, which had been first announced three years earlier, finally arrived on British roads during 1975, the same year Dave Minton tested a special British version of Laverda’s 1000cc 3C developed by Laverda’s British importers Roger and Richard Slater. Described in the test as the 3CE (E for England), it would soon become known as the legendary (no other word for it) Laverda Jota.

At the same time Ducati was busy upgrading its thoroughbred racer on the road, the 750SS to 860cc (it would be badged the 900SS) and, despite De Tomaso’s misgivings, in 1976 Moto Guzzi released its startlingly beautiful (no other word for it) 850 Le Mans.

BENELLI SEI

The Benelli 750 Sei. A Ferrari of a motorcycle (Venture Classics)

The six cylinder Benelli 750 Sei was a Ferrari of a motorcycle; brash, flashy, ostentatious and loud in its outward appearance, but also exhilarating to ride and full of verve and go. Motorcyclist Illustrated editor John McDermott rode an early one and found it was a bit snatchy and low geared in traffic but came into its own once given its head on country roads. He wrote: ‘...magic time began at a little over 5,000. At this reading the cogs snicked up and down like a hot wire through cheese spread, the six bugles played a cantata that had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, and my teeth filled the perspex window like an Esther Rantzen impersonation’.

The Benelli 750 Sei. £1,700 in 1975 (Venture Classics)

Benelli offerings from Agrati Sales of Nottingham

According to McDermott the bike was ‘...as fleet of foot as something half its weight and size...’ ‘...changed direction with just a squeeze of the knees...’ and ‘...powered around corners like a tramcar’. And later, thoroughly in the groove while flying northwards on the A65 into the Yorkshire Dales, McDermott found the Benelli steered precisely and positively and ‘...gushed along, flicking from side to side, braking, cruising and accelerating through the few straight bits’. The only serious negatives, according to McDermott, were the front disc brakes were too good, perhaps dangerously so, and that it was all too easy to scrape the bike’s underside while cornering.

The Benelli 250 Quattro. Tiny and highly distinctive (Made in Italy)

The Benelli sold for £1,700 in 1975. As well as importers Agrati Sales of Nottingham, 19 hopeful Benelli dealers from around Britain advertised in the edition of Motorcyclist Illustrated in which the test appeared. But sales were few. The bike was a talking point wherever it was seen, it could obviously perform, and its design included numerous clever and thoughtful touches, but there were legitimate concerns as to whether the Italians could reach the engineering standards required for the successful mass production of such a sophisticated, fine tolerance, Japanese-type engine, as well as question marks about the quality of the bike’s finish and the dependability of its electrical components.

The Benelli 500 Quattro was also expensive and sold poorly. Its engine was a blatant and very close copy of the Honda 500/4 (some parts were actually interchangeable) but it was a better handling and less wayward motorcycle than the Honda. Even more extravagant was the 250 Quattro, a tiny and highly distinctive looking 231cc version of the Benelli four with swooping,