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May ‘24
Where it all began. Mine cost £150. It was knackered and probably nicked but when all my mates had tragic restricted mopeds, I may as well have been riding a Bimota. I have more stories from the saddle of this than all the others put together. If I'd kept it instead of throwing it in a skip like a damn fool, I'd have retired years ago.
The thinking man's LC and the beginning of my Honda habit. ‘Experts’ said it would lunch a cam-chain in a heartbeat but it was faultless. Two up from Leeds to Knockhill when my wife was six months pregnant then I sold it three months later because we were skint. I cried when a bloke from Kelso rode it away.
Still skint but being bikeless broke my heart. This was the most cubes I could get on a small budget. It was crude, heavy, thirsty and the brakes were bobbins - didn't last long.
My mate Ian tried to throw it in the Irish Sea, but then sold it to me instead. Super smooth, then like all great Kwackers, went banzai over 9k revs. Massively underrated due, I think, to not being the prettiest steed. But the comfy bar position plus a 17 inch front meant you could ride it like you stole it all day long. Rode countless early morning TT laps of the Mountain Course on this.
Honda build quality with twin cylinder shunt. Was fully jetted on the dyno by Hobbsport Racing for the Remus cans, which set off distant car alarms all across Europe. Sold it to my dentist - for years I used to ask him how it was running every time I got in the chair.
A discounted bargain; screaming hooligan engine. Faultless fuelling manners put modern Euro compliant fuel injection to shame. Inspired a popping of the track cherry, which led to a decade of addiction. Had it three years and sold it for the same as I paid for it. The lad that bought it had just past his test and was jumping around like a wee boy when he took the keys.
Ohlins everything and with an Akrapovic pipe, the best sounding bike I ever owned. Nori Haga made riding these look easy. Me, not so much. Grew a bigger pair owning this though - I should probably still be in prison for how I rode it through Catalunya. Sold it to a bloke in New Zealand.
The 954 was the pinnacle of Blade (900) evolution in my opinion. Just brilliant in so many ways. It was so good it made a ham fisted eejit like me look like Mick Doohan. Then I lost the front on a spent tyre at turn 8 at Jerez and smashed it into a million pieces. My 10 year old son watched on in horror - I'm still ashamed.
Purchased as a cosmetic write off, built in to a track bike, re-built, re-built again. It had a terrible life but what an absolute laugh for three summers. Highsided at Oulton Park - did more laps of Croft than Shakey Byrne and eventually "retired" at Donington with a fuel leak and a knackered clutch.
Low maintenance dirt bike with road legal tyres, great for commuting in winter and some modest green laning. My ten year old son showed me a clean pair of heels when we did a motocross course at Knockhill together. Getting a bit short of garage space at this point.
Genius design everywhere you looked, way ahead of its time. Rim mounted brakes, fuel in the frame, oil in the swinging arm. The steering geometry of a 250 GP bike built round a Harley tractor engine. Bonkers. A cult phenomenon, I could have sold it 100 times over - not auctioning it at the end was a massive mistake.
A steamy affair that lasted ten years. Rode it straight back to Italy after its first service and 1200 miles in a weekend round Scotland grieving my mum... but never on track*. An assault on the senses without compromise, together with the 1098, it bridged the Ducati renaissance of the 916 with the colossal innovation of the Panigale and V4 era. Unique.
*see Blade for more info
Banned any and all passengers from the 848 so this suited growing teenage pillions. If I commuted in Milan, I’d still have it now but the early mornings in West Yorkshire are a little less balmy. A lot more character than the later ones (I found) but it gathered dust when the Strada arrived..
The biggest mileage I've ever put on a bike. Blend of stellar stomp, tech, refinement and comfort. Dirt biked it across the pass at Sestriere when it was brand new - one mile sheer drops and my sphincter the size of a pinhead! It knew its own way around the Scottish Highlands. A birthday trip to the 2017 TT was its swansong. Increasingly cultish now, as later ones were and are understandably pitched head to head with the GS phenomenon. A ‘sports bike’ in all but name.
A massive craving for a litre, high-tech four drove me to this and back on to the track, where it truly belongs. The equipment on it staggering, using the performance on the road like warp drive into hyperspace, words could never do it justice. As a ‘do it all’ bike it was a stretch but oh, that long hot summer of 2018….
Dominated by the outstanding CP3 triple engine and much more practical and adaptable than the spec sheet would suggest. Light, nimble and grunts off corners in all gears. The often overlooked fun factor is drawn from a mix of hyper-motard posture, useable tech, streetfighter attitude and serious pace. This one is heavily accessorised through necessity. Standard seat was a torture plank and a couple of seaside winters chewed through the original pipe and general cosmetics. It’ll take some ousting as the naked option. I suspect only by another one, it really is that good.
*STOLEN June 2023
Far too busy destroying Fireblades back in the day to have one of these. There are so few still about that are this unmolested, finding one turned into a bit of a Covid Lockdown One noughties nostalgia mission. Still get all misty eyed with the RCV profile, underseat howl, HRC centralised mass….just the sheer Honda-ness of it. In truth, it also belongs on a track (where it dominated for so long) and at 18 years old and mint, that felt wrong. With garage space at a premium, it bowed out after too few sunshine sprints.
A return to a very familiar vantage point, enabling some heavy cross border miles. Very different in character from the 1200S, chiefly due to the 19” front (rather than 17”) and more modest power to weight. Although has the same surprising ability to hussle when needed. A bargain find from a prior owner that lost his bike mojo in the pandemic. Desmo servicing can be eye-watering but at least the intervals have grown over a generation. Less tech on the base model made for a more durable longer term prospect. Never solved the infamous screen noise conundrum.
A personal 35 year HRC livery throwback loaded with modern muscle. Exquisitely squatting on Ohlins springs and equally happy to tickle along in town or quickshift into deep space. Nothing offers the fury, fantasy and feels of a modern superbike. Click on the photo to open the Read section and a more detailed piece on this specific choice (Back To The Blade) .
*STOLEN June 2023
The long awaited single-cylinder retro-shaped jigsaw piece in my collection and a first ‘British’ bike…with a Swedish engine, Dutch wheels, Spanish brakes, German clutch…..you get the idea. With the right outlook and some patience (it’s bespoke and hand built) the Bolton factory are fun to deal with. Sounds ace, weighs nothing, goes and looks great. And if you think it can’t really ‘scramble’ off-road, wait until you see the rider.
*STOLEN June 2023
An Austrian switch for my big miles bike after thorough testing of all the competition back to back. The trademark KTM naughtiness had much to blame but light, nimble, powerful and as happy with a muddy mountain trail as the motorway drudge. In truth, a head over heart decision but funny how companionship nurtures affection. Click the photo to redirect to the Read article that led to this purchase.
Love a single so back for more but this time with much less weight and more power. A ridiculous amount of fun on our clogged and pot holed roads. It’s taken Ducati eight years to figure out and copy this engine but sadly now only found in supermotard form. A secret worth keeping.
Crashed, nicked...then...well, sold again.
Bloody and unbowed, I would NOT be Blade defeated. Forced replacement for the SP, I held out quite a while for the 'breathed on by the batcave' ‘19 vintage. Depending which side of the bed you fall out of on any given day, both barking mad and big boy pantsy. Its departure put an end to the modern superbike itch. But mostly because of the nostalgia below.
How to satisfy the nostalgia craving that steadily emerges later in life? Follow wistful designer trends? Buy some corporate retro cool? Nope, search for the ONLY bike you ever truly regretted selling. Really tough to find unmolested these days. Rarely even seen another until this was unearthed last Christmas in…erm…a shed in Stoke. Twenty-three years has failed to dull the senses. With just enough patina on this one to make it rideable rather a polished museum relic, it is loud, lairy and re-loved forever. Full factory totes emosh.
Although also enforced, its sheer brilliance meant there was no danger my relationship with the dark side of Japan was over. The Gen3 version is more refined, more torquey and with the SP spec, well, more everything. They've sold 200k of these since 2014 and there are a thousand tiny reasons why. Mostly the engine though, magnificent mayhem.
Superbike Island meets Boardwalk Empire. My 30s era grandparents would smile and laugh. Whilst I admire and support the idea of ‘built not bought’, I lack the skills, patience, inclination (and shed) to begin such an undertaking. So supporting a local business to do that for me on a modest scale, with an array of quality parts and an expanding support network is why I have purchased again. It has all the familiar characteristics of the Maverick but with a more laid back posture and attitude. Aesthetics are of course subjective but I particularly love the way it polarises both bike enthusiasts and the general public. The latter view it almost without exception for what it is - a striking piece of unique (British) design, with details and finish to admire. The former are much more difficult to predict. I am endlessly surprised (and amused) by the extremity of the response, there is no middle ground with the British biking public. It’s like riding and parking a Damien Hirst sculpture.