Almost every day I stood at their window and gazed in wonderment at the red Honda 400/4 in the window. I used to find any excuse possible to go inside and talk to the shop owners so that I could be closer to this amazing dream machine. Needless to say, I was absolutely skint! I couldn't afford more than 5 Woodbines at the time, so the 400/4 remained a dream for a  l-o-n-g  time. What the 400/4 did though, is "forge" me into a Honda man and although I played with other makes over the years, I've always remained attracted to the Honda range. I always remember Charlie Robinson telling me that there was no need for anything bigger than a 400 on UK roads. And I believed him!
 

The G5 was used for jaunts to the pub and back and Sunday trips to Rivington Barn. Not a bad introduction to the world of bikes I suppose, but hardly life-changing! Well, actually, it nearly did change my life, because one night whilst on my way to the "Castle" pub in Bolton, I was thrown off the bike and into the path of oncoming traffic.  As I slid across the road toward a bus in slow motion, I remember hearing my sister screaming (she was riding pillion on her boyfriend's bike). It all seemed very calm and serene from my end despite having the potential for being the end of my life. Luckily, nobody squashed me and when time returned to its normal speed, I stood up and found that a group of bikers had pulled up and were working on my bike. Apparently, the chain had come off the sprocket and that's what had caused the crash. They refitted the chain, tensioned it and checked me out. Then they escorted me to the Castle pub and proceeded to buy me beer! Wow!! I realised there and then, that the bike-community were a special breed and that I would always want to be connected someway.

I should point out (for those who don't know) that back in the 70's, drinking and driving was just as illegal as it is today, but it wasn't the social crime that it is now. It almost seemed normal to "have a few pints" and then ride carefully home. One night, I got pulled up by the bobbies and when asked if I'd been drinking, I admitted that I had. They told me to keep things at a slow pace and be careful. They gave me a producer and let me go.  Of course things are (quite rightly) totally different now. I now never drink and drive. Never!! Drink-driving kills people, so don't do it.
 
Later on in the year, Pete and I decided it would be a good thing to go see the TT Races in the Isle Of Man. Pete was inbetween bikes at the time, but he somehow managed to scrounge a Suzuki GT250 off someone for the week. His opinion of Suzuki's wasn't particularly high, but when you don't have a choice, you can't be too fussy. Anyway, we threw some scruffy clothes together, blagged a tent and set off to Liverpool for the ferry. We had a great time and I remember that a Pint of "Onchan" beer cost me 25 pence. Cool!  I could get very merry on £2.

The summer of '76 was awesome and the days were filled with warmth and sunshine. During the daytime, we spent most of the time watching the races and moving from pub to pub, drooling over beautiful bikes and beautiful women. Life was truly great! Pete laughed his socks off when I purposely damaged my silencer in a bid to make the boring G5 sound a bit more aggressive.  A strong screwdriver through the end of the baffle produced the desired effect and I scooted around the island thinking I was some big Ducati rider.
 

I stripped the bike down and sent the tank and panels off to the bodyshop to be painted in a Porsche red. The frame was in good order and just needed touching up around some of the weld points. The engine shone like a new pin after a bit of Solvol-Autosol treatment and so too did the rest of the chrome. When the tank and panels came back, I fitted new decals, a single-seat and stood back to enjoy the great looks of this new toy.
 

Next up was a Kawasaki. I was working in Chorley at the time and I had to take a used car to the local MOT station. While I was waiting for the test to be completed, I mooched around their workshop and noticed a Kawasaki rear lamp sticking out from under a tarpaulin. I asked someone who's the bike was and he said it was his. He walked over and dragged the tarp off the bike to reveal the most dreadful looking thing you've seen in your life!! It was the dirtiest, blackest, most minging thing I'd ever laid eyes on. I asked him how many miles it had done and I thought he said 18 thousand. He told me it was 100% original and was for sale. He only wanted £100 so when I got back to work I started to think that it had to be worth a ton even if it was only to break up and sell for parts. I returned to the testing station and gave him his money. He said he'd get the bike dropped off later that day.

Sure enough, a couple of hours later, the bike arrived on a small trailer and I pushed it over to the wash-bay. I pulled out the steam-cleaner from the workshop and started to blast the ugly  beast! WOW!!!! Hold on a minute! This wasn't an ugly duckling - it was a beautiful green KH250 swan!  It turns out that all this black horrible stuff was a sort of protective grease. Underneath it was probably the finest condition used bike I'd ever seen. It was truly immaculate! And those 18 thousand miles were, in fact, 8 thousand!

I put the battery on charge and just before the day ended, I gave the kick-start a prod. Rack-a tang-tang-tang-tang! It bloody started!! It ran fine! It was sweet as a 2-stroke nut! Wahoo!! Two-strokes aren't my thing, but I must admit that I had a lot of fun on this bike. It was great to ride and mighty fine to look at. Classic Japanese styling.