1982 Honda 750 Saber

In the summer of 1983 I found a lightly wrecked Honda Saber for sale by car salvage yard. This machine, the first mass-produced V4, was given rave reviews by the motorcycle press. For their time they possessed a remarkable blend of power, smoothness and handling. The star of the show was the engine, which was water-cooled to cope with the power which exceeded that made by previous 750 fours. The reason for the increased output was the improved head design, which was more modern that the pent roof design incorporated in the first generation of Honda 4-valve engines. This motor had a 10-1 compression ratio and was a real torquer, yet it still had a six speed transmission. It had a number of novel features, including a built-in alarm system triggered by a fiber optic filament inside a steel cable, a digital display with gear indicator, clock and stopwatch, and anti-dive braking. It was a relatively heavy machine, whose design reflected little concern for weight. Final drive was by shaft, and the torque reaction was such that at lower speeds there was noticeable rear end rise when the throttle was applied. The rear suspension was among the first rising-rate systems, and the ride and handling were about the best I had ever encountered on any street machine other than my modified Z1. The suspension was biased toward comfort, but when ridden hard the bike still delivered good, if not great, handling. The primary limitation seemed to be imposed by the unsprung weight associated with the shaft drive. The rear end could be made to hop entering turns, but torque effect was never a problem, and the brakes were great. With acres of torque and the six speed, it was almost impossible to find yourself off the power curve. The seating position was not quite as sporty as I would have preferred, but the inherent smoothness of the motor combined with rubber mounting resulted in a machine that was a real pleasure to ride at high speed for any number of hours. As for problems, the crash had pulled out some of the wires from the instrument pod, and it was an exercise in logic, linguistics and soldering to reattach them to the circuit board in their proper places, but that was hardly a fault of the machine. The plastic badge covering a screw on the tailpiece buzzed on the highway, an annoyance easily solved with a dab of silicon seal. A more ominous noise came from one or both of the cam chains, sounding perhaps like a shoe or idler or something was perhaps not doing its job. I never found out, as despite this bike's great features I decided that I had too many machines.