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Cafe Scrambler
by Gary Charpentier |
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Cafe
Scrambler. Sounds like a breakfast dish you might order at
Denny's, doesn't it? But throughout the course of this
three-year project, I've been unable to come up with a
suitable name for this motorbike. I don't know if that's
because it is made up of parts from three different bikes
and four different countries, or if I have simply lost the
enthusiasm for naming my motorcycles. "Gypsy" was the
obvious choice for my `82 Gpz 550, I didn't even have to
think about that. But I have called this bike so many names
during the course of it's creation that it doesn't know
whether to answer to "#@$%&*!" or "&*%#@#!". More on
this later... Offered as either
the CB (streetbike) or CL (scrambler), in 450cc
displacement, these Hondas were quite technically advanced
for the period. First introduced in 1965, they featured
technology which was only previously found on racebikes.
Double-overhead-cams (DOHC) acted on two valves per
cylinder, which were held in check by torsion bar valve
springs, instead of the usual coils. This was a
controversial application in 1965, but has proven to be
strong and reliable over the years. Produced until the
mid-1970s, they were given a displacement bump up to 500cc
for the last models. But the Honda DOHC Twin was never as
popular as it should have been here in America. We were into
displacement then, same as we are today. All that hinky
Japanese technology was just too much for us to grasp,
apparently. But just as with my old Bridgestone 350 GTR, the
oddball technology was one of the attributes which attracted
me to this bike. The Cafe Scrambler
is my vision of the optimum Honda DOHC Twin. It has all the
best parts of the various versions of this under-appreciated
classic. By "best", I mean either functionally or
aesthetically. When it came down to a choice between the
two, aesthetics won out; this is going to be a streetbike,
after all. For instance, I chose the drum front brake
because it looks right. The single hydraulic disc brake from
the later CB model didn't offer enough performance advantage
to justify it's use, and the yearly hydraulic system
maintenance is a chore I would rather forego. The scrambler
high-pipes were a similar compromise. They may not flow the
best, but they really look the business. The search for the
right fuel tank was a project in itself. The fuel tank is
the visual focal point of any unfaired motorcycle. Why else
would the manufacturers all put their company name or logo
on there? From an aesthetic standpoint, it is the single
most important component. The small scrambler tank was
definitely out. The larger CB tank was the right size, but
it was so generic lacking the sort of visual punch I had in
mind. I thought about using various tools to reshape it into
a more unique and racy design. After a sufficient amount of
liquid creativity was consumed, thought turned to action,
and I made a complete disaster out of a formerly pristine
vessel. So I retreated to my computer, where I began
searching cyberspace for the perfect centerpiece. It soon
became obvious that I needed the tank that graced the first
version of the DOHC twin: the venerable "Black
Bomber". You will often
hear the term "unobtainium" used to describe particularly
trick, and hence hard-to-find components. Nowhere does this
term apply more aptly than to the famous Black Bomber fuel
tank. Chrome-sided, with knee rubbers and elegant round
emblems, this was the apogee of early Japanese motorcycle
art. I looked everywhere for a perfect NOS example, but the
only one I could find was waaayyy beyond my budget. I
settled for a fixer-upper with light internal rust and
little dings here and there. POR-15 solved the rust problem,
and lessons I learned from my earlier bodywork experiments
fixed the rest. At the last moment, I decided to ditch the
black paint in favor of an elegant, dark Cadillac green.
This was applied in typical rattle-can fashion and
hand-rubbed to a high luster. My centerpiece complete, it
was time to get this thing running! The first order of
business was to get rid of the points. Newtronic's in
England makes the HO-6 electronic ignition specifically for
this motorcycle. Just set it and forget it; I much prefer
these to the finicky old contact breaker system. Of course I
realize that points do have their advantages, most notably
that of their failure mode. Points will usually exhibit a
gradual decline in performance, allowing the savvy rider
enough warning to get the thing home and in the garage
before having to deal with it. When the Newtronics fails, I
will almost inevitably be out on the road somewhere, tooling
along blissfully until combustion suddenly stops, leaving me
stranded who knows where. But hopefully there should be many
miles of carefree motoring to enjoy before that happens, and
the performance of the `lectronics is supposed to be
superior. We'll see... The high-mounted
scrambler exhaust was always infamous for being rather loud
and snorty. An aftermarket company called "Pacifico" made a
product for these back in the `60s called "Snuff-or-Nots".
These consisted of a metal washer-on-a-stick that was
inserted in the end of the exhaust pipe and could be opened
or closed by means of a knob for silent running through
quiet residential neighborhoods or past sleeping policemen
parked behind billboards. These qualified as a "baffle",
which in those days was all that was required for an exhaust
system to be legal. (Remember the old biker movie cliche of
The Man running his nightstick up the pipe and declaring
them illegal, thereby "hassling" the poor, misunderstood
hero?) But in these days
of "Loud Pipes Save Lives", I'm just going to run mine with
it's resonant, burnt-out muffler. Compared to a
straight-pipe hog, these are downright civilized. If The Man
hassles me, he had better be hasslin' Mr. Dow Jones on his
DynaFatAssYuppyGlide too. I decided to leave
the motor stock this year, so I could concentrate on sorting
out the chassis. Mark McGrew, former Honda race team
mechanic and current owner of M3 Racing, is the local guru
for these bikes. Having campaigned them in AHRMA for the
last several years, he knows about all there is to know
about getting them to make decent power. M3 sells numerous
parts and services in this vein, so I know where to go when
it's time to hop-up the powerplant. Now, I mentioned
that the Cafe Scrambler has parts from four different
countries. One of the most prominent sources has been the
UK, birthplace of Cafe Racer culture. A fellow named Jim
Morgan runs Disco Volante Moto (www.discovolantemoto.com)
out of a small shop in Wales. Disco Volante is Italian for
flying saucer, and Jim christened his company after an MV
Agusta by the same name. DVM supplies cafe racer parts
sourced from all over the world, including the Paolo
Tarrozzi (Italian) rearsets mounted on my Cafe Scrambler.
These are top quality pieces that simply blow away anything
else I've seen for this application, regardless of price. I
also bought my Lucas-style tail light from DVM, and I
couldn't have been happier with the quality and service. I
don't often endorse commercial interests, but we need to
keep this guy in business. So let's review: The bike
originated in Japan, natch. Tail light and Newtronics from
the UK. Rearsets from Italy. Oh, and several other bits and
pieces fabricated "with a little help from my friends" right
here in Minnesota, USA. If this is
starting to sound like another episode of Shawn Downey's
"This Old Bike", I apologize. But the fact is, I didn't ride
at all this past winter. I spent all my time in my
newly-heated garage trying to make parts that were never
designed to fit together converge into a ridable work of
art. It's too soon to say whether I have succeeded. I've
been able to make it run, but there are still so many
niggling little details to work out that it has yet to turn
a wheel on the street. However, in the
course of thinking and writing about it, I have finally
settled on a name. At first I leaned towards some knock-off
of the "Frankenbike" theme, due to it's dubious multi-bike
origins. After getting it mostly assembled, I sat there for
awhile and just stared at it. I contemplated the racy
hunch-backed profile, and like an answer appearing in a
Magic 8-Ball the name emerged from the murky depths of my
winter-addled mind. Ladies and gentlemen, meet
"Quasi-Moto"... coming soon to a Café near
you. M.M.M.
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