CLASSIC MORRIS

HELLO, HONDA! PART 1
THE JAPANESE ARRIVE IN AUSTRALIA, AND WHO SHOULD BE THERE TO GREET THEM BUT OUR LESTER WORDS LESTER MORRIS

The C100 Super Cub, Honda’s world-beater.

One balmy day way back in 1958 I was lurking behind the spare parts counter of Ryde Motorcycles, the suburban motorcycle store in which I spent several happy years, idly re-adjusting a balled-up sock which had been sucked under my foot by an ill-fitting wool-lined `flying’ boot. I straightened up to behold a black Ford Mercury pulling into the gutter outside the front door. This seemed strangely ominous, and in fact was to be the portent of monumental things to come.

The car disgorged a trio of short Orientals, one of whom, a step or so ahead of his fellows, reached back into the car and removed a small stack of what appeared to be colour brochures of some sort. He moved with measured steps to the front door and then, following a guttural command from one of his off siders, climbed up the steps to the front door and then stepped into the lower of the two showrooms and suddenly shoved his arms out in front of him like wheelbarrow handles as he bowed his head towards the floor.

He stumbled up the step to the upper showroom where the parts counter stood, and I noted he was nodding his perfectly tonsured head like a pigeon as he approached, his slim fingers and perfectly manicured nails clamped in a death-grip on the pile of brochures he carried.

He was emitting odd hissing sounds and I wondered idly if there was something radically wrong with him; perhaps there was a fault in his breathing equipment, or an extra hole in his head where one had no right to be. Perhaps he was flatulently disposing of the remains of a bad Caucasian meal where something he ate disagreed with him, or could he simply be boiling for a leak after having spent too long within the confines of the Merc? I was not about to ask, and I imagined he wasn’t about to tell me.

All three of these blokes were immaculately dressed in matching dark suits with crisp white shirts and dark ties. I felt, at the time, that they might have been cold canvassing for an Asian funeral fund of some sort, perhaps flogging grave plots, or Bibles; maybe looking to lure people into some obscure religious sect? They arrived unheralded and un-announced, so they could have been there for any number of reasons.

Happily, it was none of these, I was soon to discover, as the trio filtered through the two showrooms, which featured twenty or so second-hand British bangers and four brand-new machines – an MSS Velocette 500cc single; one of the last, 500cc overhead camshaft all-alloy Norton Internationals (which nobody wanted, believe it or not!); a Triumph Thunderbird and a 200cc Villiers engine two-stroke James Commander commuter. There were also several Ex-Police 1955 Triumph Thunderbird outfits, with sprung-hub rear suspension – the frightful sprung hub still specified for sidecar use – which had recently been purchased at auction after the owners had finished with them, and there were a couple of forlorn mopeds sharing space with a few scooters.

As the men weaved their way through the assembled machinery they glanced about with ill-concealed contempt, but one of them (who seemed to be their leader) nodded approvingly as he patted the Inter Norton’s fuel tank, quite

obviously ignoring the pool of oil which sat in the drip-tray underneath the machine. They sidled up to the spares counter behind which I stood transfixed, uncertain whether to run away or to heartily welcome the strangers.

Suddenly, the Brochure Bearer made thrusting gestures at me with his out thrust arms, obviously offering them to me for my inspection. I took them and he immediately snapped upright, then, following a hoarse cry from his immediate superior, all three of them bowed from the ankles, hissing like a bunch of pit vipers!

It was an impressive display, and – before I could stop myself – I in turn bowed and hissed back at them, muttering my thanks. Well, what did I know about their customs? This was my first sight of Genuine Japanese men, which I correctly thought them to be, and I had found the whole exercise a bit over the top; if not downright intimidating. But I still had not a blind idea who they were, or what the heck they were on about.

Apart from my thanks, which elicited Cheshire-cat grins all round, though I noted their eyes remained disturbingly hooded, nobody had said anything so I turned my attention to the colour brochures, which quite obviously featured motorcycles.

The name on the cover said HONDA, which I had never heard of before, but the illustration and wording was, I clearly remember, most impressive.

The colour photograph which was featured on the cover showed a bright red, twin-cylinder motorcycle clearly ridden at high speed, the rider, oddly, lying down on the thing, his belly on the dual-seat and his short legs thrust straight out behind him!

The photo immediately put me in mind of an American oddball named Roland Free, who had ridden a Black Lightning Vincent on Bonneville Salt Flats in the early fifties to a speed in excess of 150mph, while wearing nothing but a tight-fitting bathing cap, swimming trunks and sandshoes! He compounded this absurdity by placing his stomach on the rear mudguard and thrusting his legs out behind him, claiming that the lack of flapping leathers allied to the prone riding position removed drag and allowed for a much higher speed than might otherwise be expected.

Clearly, this had provided the inspiration for the cover shot on the HONDA brochure, but no-one explained how these riders managed – at, one assumes , a very high speed in top gear – to achieve such a riding position, how they got back down again, and how the family Jewels survived such a pasting.

The cover illustration carried a classic caption to describe the exciting range of motorcycles detailed inside.

They were, according to the caption, and I quote verbatim:-“A superior chunk of high efficiency engine, for high speed thrill cuts through the wind motorcycling.”

Quaint? If you thought that was quaint, you should have read some of the workshop and spare parts manuals which were to follow as Honda gained strength before their English improved!

If the cover shot was impressive, then the motorcycles displayed inside were out of this world when compared with the current crop of English and (extremely rare) German and even rarer Italian machines we were desperately trying to flog at the time.

Many of the original designs of those brand-new British machines we had on display were, in fact, 30 and more years old.

Honda Dream, the brochure shrieked, featured twin-cylinder, 250cc and 305cc four-stroke engines with overhead camshafts(!), totally enclosed rear chains(!), twin rear-view mirrors(!), blinkers(?) and –wait for it – electric self starters(!!).

In this, the 21st century, you may shout ‘what’s new about all that?’, but we are talking 1958 you may recall, just after the middle of last century. Clearly, Honda was well and truly ahead of the game with those new machines, for I had never seen equipment levels like this before, and must have stood slack-jawed at the visions which unfolded before me at every turn of the page.

As I`ve said , there were 250 and 305cc ohc twins, but there were also a couple of brochures for the Honda Benly 125cc ohc twin which arrived several weeks later, and was even more mind-blowing because the only 125cc commuter machines which were on hand in those days were single cylinder two-strokes or the occasional 200cc, ohv Triumph Tiger Cub. BSA Bantam had its own engine – pinched from the German DKW as part of war reparation – while the others (and there were several of them) were fitted with 125 or 200ccVilliers engines.

We are, of course, excepting motor scooters at this time.

However, though the new Hondas employed unheard-of equipment levels, their appearance was nonetheless very familiar. The engines bore more than a passing resemblance to the German 250cc NSU twins which had won several World Championships in motorcycle racing a few years previously, while the chunky, pressed metal frames and leading-link front forks were almost identical to the 250cc, single- cylinder overhead camshaft NSU roadsters.

The general finish of the machines looked fantastic in print, with Post-box Red and Reckitts Blue dominant, the bikes fitted with matching dual-seats and their unusual, rectangular ‘knife edge’ styling. I can’t remember all of the technical specifications which may have been included, but the 250 employed the classic 54x54mm bore/ stroke specifications, while the 305cc (which, because it was in the higher registration bracket, became the orphan of the storm) was over-bored to 57mm.

Contrary to popular belief, the 50cc C100 step-thru which really secured Honda’s fortunes didn’t arrive in Australia until late in September,1958, a scant few weeks after the first model left the production lines the first week of August, the bike later displayed on the Bennett and Wood stand at the October, 1958 Motor Show. That odd little machine shared its spot with the few other machines in Honda’s – at the time – small range of motorcycles.

That little step-thru was to prove to be the machine which saved the entire motorcycle industry world-wide, for I have always maintained that Honda was unarguably the motorcycle company which placed the whole world back on two wheels again. With more than 50 years gone and some 60 million-plus machines later, the machine is still being made (in various guises, it must be said), often with an overhead camshaft engine and up to 110cc capacity, with varieties of the original machine being used by postmen, farmers, commuters and a large variety of people from almost every field of endeavour you could think of.

Incredibly, Honda was to presage this scenario in the design of that first Cub’s brochure, because that original brochure, which arrived with the first batch of machines, carried several photo illustrations of people riding it about who were clearly not your average motorcyclist but who were nonetheless actually mounted upon a ‘sort of’ motorcycle; however small and odd looking that machine may have been.

That initial full-colour brochure from September 1958, with its most unusual illustrations, quite probably led to that great American Classic promotion which was to appear a few years later, and which extolled the virtues of the little machine as never before, while suggesting to a stunned world that “You Meet the Nicest People On a Honda!”. The later American promotion, possibly following on from the original Honda brochure, would surely have been amongst the greatest publicity campaigns ever created.

So, Honda had arrived – the first machines had appeared in Sydney in April, 1958 – and the Renaissance of motorcycling had begun. It began in Australia, be well aware of that, for Honda arrived here a full year before the machines were introduced into its next markets, which of course included America. The bikes were on display on Bennett and Woods’ motorcycle stand at the Sydney Motor Show in October of 1958, a few months before they were seen in the Netherlands, and almost a full year before they appeared in 1959 at the Earls Court Motorcycle Show in England.

Clearly, they had arrived first in Australia because of our proximity to Japan, but just how good were they, how well did they perform, what problems, if any, did Honda have in those very early days? We shall shortly see as we unfurl the Good, the Bad and indeed, the Ugly of HONDA and its arrival in Australia, the first nation – in fact the first city – in the world to import this brand new machine!

Keep an eye out for the second instalment in Lester’s story of Honda’s early days in Australia.

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