Honda Cb750 Four

I've put serious miles on two K-series 750s and the honest truth is nothing else in 1969 even came close — four cylinders, a disc brake, and 67 horsepower in a production motorcycle felt like science fiction. The engine is the star: buttery smooth once it clears 4,000 rpm, pulls hard to the 8,500 redline with that distinctive mechanical chatter that sounds expensive in the best possible way. Handling is the honest weakness — that 218 kg wet weight sits high, the front forks dive aggressively under hard braking, and the early drum-rear setup means you're planning stops well ahead. Carb synchronisation is a weekend hobby whether you like it or not, and parts availability now ranges from cheap repro junk to eye-watering NOS, but none of that changes the fact that riding one still feels genuinely significant.

The F-series always felt like Honda listened to the complaints about the K bikes being too upright and soft — the lower bars and café-influenced stance genuinely changed how you rode it, pushing you forward into corners with more confidence. That 736cc SOHC four still pulls smoothly from about 3,500 rpm and builds to a genuinely exciting howl near redline, though 67 horsepower felt more impressive in 1976 than it does today. The flatslide carbs are a double-edged sword: crisper throttle response when they're jetted right, but they're fussy about temperature and altitude, and if the previous owner ignored sync intervals, you'll spend a weekend chasing a stumble at part-throttle. At 230 kg wet it's no featherweight, and that weight sits high, so slow-speed urban maneuvering demands respect, but once you're rolling it carries speed with a planted, unhurried confidence that modern middleweights simply don't replicate.

The DOHC motor transformed what was becoming a tired formula — it pulls crisply from 4,000 rpm and genuinely rewards wringing it to the 9,000 rpm redline, where the old SOHC unit would just rasp and gasp. Twin front discs actually give you confidence braking hard into corners, something the single-disc predecessor couldn't claim. The Comstar wheels look purposeful and shed unsprung weight noticeably, though the suspension is still tuned for a rider alone with no luggage and feels vague mid-corner if you've loaded it up for a weekend run. At 232 kg wet she's not light, and urban filtering reminds you of that every single time, but get her moving and the weight disappears into a composed, planted confidence that newer Japanese fours from that era simply couldn't match.

The Nighthawk 750 is a bike I've put about 18,000 miles on over two seasons, and it rewards patience more than passion. That DOHC inline-four pulls cleanly from 3,500 rpm with almost no drama — shaft drive means zero chain fuss, and the low seat had my 5'8" frame planting both feet flat with confidence. But Honda sanitized the soul right out of it: the exhaust note is a muffled whisper, the styling tries to split the difference between cruiser and standard and lands in a beige middle ground, and at 247 kg wet it feels every pound in slow parking-lot maneuvers. It's the appliance you reach for, not the one you dream about.

I put 22,000 miles on an RC42 over three years of daily commuting and weekend scratching, and it never once let me down — not once. The air-cooled inline-four pulls smoothly from 3,000 rpm, sits comfortably at motorway speeds, and the 770mm seat height means most riders can flat-foot it at lights. That said, don't expect fireworks: 68 horsepower sounds respectable on paper but the RC42 is notably softer than the legendary original CB750, and above 130 km/h it starts breathing hard with real effort. The front single disc brake is the weakest link — it's adequate but inspires zero confidence in the wet, and you'll want to upgrade the pads immediately.