10-17-2018, 01:18 PM
I bought a 1980 CB750F Supersport in 2002. I never though it was as fetching or sophisticated as the original CB750s from the '70s were. I envied people with those bikes, but this was the closest I could find at the time. It seemed over-styled in a way that Japanese designers are often prone to do. Making it worse, someone had put an enormous Vetter Windjammer fairing on it which was not only hideous from 50ft away, its weight made the bike over steer badly. It's a wonder I bought the thing. A few months later, I threw the Windjammer in the dumpster, and replaced it with a clear Plexiglas fairing. What an improvement! The bike was now light and precise in handling, and I was beginning to enjoy it. Next, I junked those ponderous dual exhausts, and replaced them with a light 4 in 1 Vance and Hines Megaphone header. What joy! A genie was let out of her bottle, and my DOHC CB750F just flew down the road, unbound.
What fun I had with that bike. One Saturday night I took it to explore the back country of Guilford County, NC. Lost and alone for hours on empty, dark serpentine two lane roads, I rolled past turpentine mills, farms, and through antique towns with one main street, like the fictional Mayberry. When serious lightning from a line of thunderstorms lit up the horizon, I knew it was time to head back to my motel, but how? I had no idea where I was. All I had was a compass, but I figured if I just kept bearing South, I would hit East-West Rt. 40, by and by. The plan worked, but when I got to Rt. 40, the rain was coming down like out of a fire hose. I zipped up onto the highway with maybe an inch or two of rain on the roadway and 18 wheelers roaring by, spraying huge amounts of water on me from either side. The Plexifaring rescued me, shedding most what came at me. I was further from my start than I imagined, but the CB750 got me back.
When I think of that bike, I always remember my Piedmont adventure. How reliable in so many ways that bike was. Sadly, I was lured away from it, seduced by the raw energy of a Kawasaki GPz 1100. I got rid of the 750F, and thought nothing of it. I was so enthralled by the GPz. Older now, in my late sixties, I miss my old friend, and the stable, comfortable relationship we had. And that's exactly how I came to buy a '17 CB1100 EX last week.
What fun I had with that bike. One Saturday night I took it to explore the back country of Guilford County, NC. Lost and alone for hours on empty, dark serpentine two lane roads, I rolled past turpentine mills, farms, and through antique towns with one main street, like the fictional Mayberry. When serious lightning from a line of thunderstorms lit up the horizon, I knew it was time to head back to my motel, but how? I had no idea where I was. All I had was a compass, but I figured if I just kept bearing South, I would hit East-West Rt. 40, by and by. The plan worked, but when I got to Rt. 40, the rain was coming down like out of a fire hose. I zipped up onto the highway with maybe an inch or two of rain on the roadway and 18 wheelers roaring by, spraying huge amounts of water on me from either side. The Plexifaring rescued me, shedding most what came at me. I was further from my start than I imagined, but the CB750 got me back.
When I think of that bike, I always remember my Piedmont adventure. How reliable in so many ways that bike was. Sadly, I was lured away from it, seduced by the raw energy of a Kawasaki GPz 1100. I got rid of the 750F, and thought nothing of it. I was so enthralled by the GPz. Older now, in my late sixties, I miss my old friend, and the stable, comfortable relationship we had. And that's exactly how I came to buy a '17 CB1100 EX last week.