Honda Cb400

I put 4,000 miles on a '76 CB400F one summer and still think about that 4-into-1 exhaust singing past 7,000 rpm — it's genuinely one of the best sounds a small motorcycle has ever made. The engine pulls cleanly from around 4,500 rpm and just keeps building with a mechanical urgency that feels completely disproportionate to its displacement; you're always riding it harder than you planned. Handling is nimble and honest, though the front end gets vague in fast sweepers if you're pushing — chassis stiffness was never Honda's priority here. Carb sync is fussy to maintain, and finding four matching jets forty-plus years on is a patience-testing exercise.

The torsion bar valve springs are a genuinely strange engineering choice, and you'll think about that every time the motor feels slightly reluctant to rev past 8,000 rpm compared to what the four-cylinder Hawk offered before it. That said, the 395cc twin pulls with real grunt in the midrange — 5,000 to 7,500 rpm is where this bike lives, and urban riding feels effortless because of it. Handling is composed and predictable, the chassis is well-sorted for its era, and at 186 kg it never feels like a handful in traffic. The honest problem is that Honda built this bike chasing fuel economy at the expense of excitement, and you can feel that compromise in every gear above sixth.

I put nearly 12,000 km on a '85 CB400F and that DOHC inline-four is genuinely addictive above 8,000 rpm — it pulls hard and screams like something twice its displacement. The revised ergonomics over the earlier gens feel more upright and less cramped, and at 178 kg it flicks through tight city traffic with real confidence. Honest weakness: below 5,000 rpm it's sluggish and unresponsive, so you're constantly working the gearbox to keep it in the meat of the powerband, which gets tiresome on longer highway stretches. Parts availability outside Japan is a genuine headache — budget time and patience if anything mechanical goes sideways.

That 399cc inline-four is a screamer — it doesn't really wake up until 8,000 rpm, but from there to the 12,000 rpm redline it pulls like something twice its displacement. I've ridden it back-to-back with the CBR400RR and the CB-1 is genuinely the more fun street bike: lighter steering, more upright seating, and that aggressive full fairing cuts wind surprisingly well on the highway. The downsides are real though — below 6,500 rpm it's gutless and a bit irritable in traffic, parts availability is a nightmare outside Japan, and the original rubber compound fairings have a tendency to crack if you look at them wrong after 30 years. It was discontinued after barely two model years, which tells you something about Honda's commitment to the export market, but for the right rider who keeps it in the meat of its powerband, this is one of the most characterful small-displacement bikes Honda ever built.

I've put nearly 15,000 km on a '97 CB400SF and the thing refuses to be anything but brilliant. Below 6,000 rpm it's docile enough for a nervous learner, then the VTEC kicks the second pair of valves open around 6,300 and you're suddenly chasing the redline like you owe it money — that transition is genuinely addictive, not a gimmick. The inline-four sounds surgical and purposeful at full chat, chassis balance is near-perfect for tight mountain roads, and that 755mm seat height means shorter riders actually fit without drama. Honest weakness: the power plateau hits hard at 53hp and experienced riders will want more on long highway stretches, and genuine parts outside Japan require patience and a good relationship with your importer.

The Gen 2 VTEC crossover at 6,750 rpm is addictive in a way that's hard to explain until you've lived with it — below that threshold it's a polite, tractable commuter, then the second pair of valves crack open and the thing goes feral all the way to 11,000. I've ridden this bike through city traffic, mountain passes, and two-up highway stints, and it genuinely does all of it without complaint. The chassis is planted and confidence-inspiring without being boring, and the suspension tuning on this revision is noticeably more composed over broken tarmac than the Gen 1. The honest weakness is that 53 horses feel like a ceiling once you've grown into the bike — experienced riders will eventually want more, and the lack of a gear indicator or fuel gauge on early builds is a minor but recurring annoyance.

The VTEC 3 finally sorted the original VTEC's jarring two-stage personality — dual throttle bodies smooth out that old 6,750 rpm Jekyll-and-Hyde kick into something you can actually use on a twisty road without losing your lunch. Below the threshold it's docile enough for a learner; above it, all four valves open and 53 horses come alive in a way that shames plenty of 600cc sportsbikes on real roads. I put 18,000 km on one over two years and the build quality is absurdly overengineered — nothing rattled, nothing leaked, the Honda welds look like jewelry. The only honest gripes are a peaky top-end that demands you stay on the boil in traffic, and a price premium in the used market that reflects everyone else knowing exactly how good this thing is.

I put 14,000 km on a 2011 CB400SF and the VTEC Revo transition — that snappy surge around 6,750 rpm when the second pair of valves opens — never got old, though it does demand you actually rev the thing rather than lugging it like a bigger bike. Fuel injection cleaned up the cold-start drama of earlier carbed generations completely, and the chassis is so neutral and confidence-inspiring that I genuinely forgot I was learning how to be a better rider while riding it. The 53 hp figure sounds modest on paper but feels punchy in the real world because the inline-four spins so freely and the 197 kg wet weight is honest — this thing flicks through traffic like it's half that mass. Main gripe: the Japan-market pricing and grey-import premium make it hard to justify financially when you can buy a used Kawasaki Z400 for less, and pillion comfort is an afterthought.