The Motorcycle Diaries pt. 2

My second bike was Mr Honda's much-lauded, single cylinder, four-stroke C70. Similar in design to the Ariel Leader, which young men of the fifties shunned despite (or because of) its many innovative features, the C70 had leading-link forks, enclosed chain case, sensible legshields and a fuel tank under the seat . . . Yep, the Brits got there first but it took the Japanese to make it sell. And sell they did. Millions of 'em. The promise of 6000 miles per eggcup of petrol helped. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but the C series -- 50, 70 and 90cc -- boasted brilliant fuel consumption and amazing low-maintenance reliabilty that made them a wow with miserly old men the world over.

I was a 6'4" eighteen-year-old and a deadly serious biker. I had all the protective leather gear and read all the magazines. I attended the local training group to improve my riding skills and dreamed of owning a Kawasaki GPz900. But for now the C70 - or Bogseat as it was unaffectionately known - had to suffice.

The Bogseat had no clutch so the first few days of ownership consisted of embarrassingly loud gearchanges. KERRRR-LUNK! But I got the hang of it. Something else that took some getting used to was the leading-link forks. When braking, just about all vehicles dive at the front as the weight is thrown forward. But the effect of leading-link forks is to make the front end rise under braking. Again, it was just a matter of becoming accustomed to it.

That brilliant fuel consumption did catch me out though. Fifty miles from home one evening, on the Derby ring road. I ran out of petrol. And so unused was I to this phenomenon, I had no money on me to fill up. Not even change for a phone call. I ended up pushing it two miles or so in fading light to a friend's house where, as luck would have it, my brother was visiting. And his friend had a Land Rover (now that was lucky!) They chucked me, much chastened, and the Bogseat in the LR and took me home. Oh how we all laughed.

The only time the bike really let me down, unbelievably, was on my test. So confident was I of passing I had already bought a Yamaha XS250, which I couldn't ride on a provisional license. The test was cancelled twice due to bad weather, so I began to depair of ever getting a full license. So the flat tyre halfway round the test course was too much to bear. Too make matters worse, as I pushed the Bogseat home I caught my expensive Belstaff overtrousers on the footpeg and ripped them open. That was it. Love turned to hate. I sold the bike a few days later.