Along the way, Honda realized the headlong rush toward specialization had made motorcycling increasingly discriminatory, with the clear yet unspoken implication that if you weren't "our kind of people", you-- and your money--simply weren't welcome. "We were alienating people with our own machines," admitted a Honda spokesman.

From that realization springs the Nighthawk 750. With it, Honda aims to recapture motorcycling's center, and in doing so invoke the memory of the legendary CB750KO, arguably the first superbike, and one of the most versatile, egalitarian machines Japan ever created. The Nighthawk seems poised to succeed, too; this motorcycle will startle you with the possibilities that flow from its broadranging competence. Sit on it; the riding position dates back 10, 20 years, but the roomy expansiveness it provides is timeless. Thumb the starter button; the aircooled inline-four's exhaust cadence is instantly familiar. "Everybody knows this machine, somehow," says Ray Blank, Honda's assistant vice president of motorcycle operations.

That sense of deja vu is no accident. The Nighthawk emerges as the product of the most elaborate market research in motorcycling. That's crucially important, first because it signals a change in the way Honda operates; before, the firm developed new technology first, then looked for a way to apply it to the market. Second, the research shaped every aspect of this motorcycle, from the way it looks, to the hardware that went into it, to the way it works. Ask Honda why almost any part went into the Nighthawk, and they'll back up its presence with research. Why four-into-two pipes? To satisfy a need for symmetrical appearance. Why a single-disc front brake? A single disc provides adequate performance, and dual discs were perceived as being "too sporty." Why add a tach on a cost-fighter motorcycle? Because it adds perceived value.

Honda began the NAS project (New American Standard, as it's known internally) in 1988. The firm saw the need for a standard motorcycle, but there was disagreement within the company on the form it should take, and the hardware to build it. So Honda conducted a series of multitiered focus groups, with dealers and consumers. Each group was. shown a group of sketches depicting a series of motorcycles ranging from hardcore sport bikes to laid-back cruisers; they'd see 10 sketches, eliminate five, then be shown five more within a given genre.

The surprise the winnowing process revealed was the unanimity of the responses. "It was as if all these people had been talking together," said one Honda spokesman. "We wasted a lot of time doing research. We could have gone with the first group's [pick]." The concept, and the necessary hardware was beginning to take shape. At first, all the dealers said was, "Bring back the [CB700SC] Nighthawk S." What they all wanted was the archetypal Universal Japanese Motorcycle.

Among the unanimous choices were engine configuration and displacement, riding position, styling, and price. The powerplant had to be an air-cooled inline-four, displacing 750cc; the riding position had to be relaxed, upright, and spacious enough for two; styling called for no full-enclosure bodywork, but a nod to the custom look with a teardrop shape tank; the price had to be low: $4000- or less. "We could have offered them technology," said a Honda spokesman, "but they didn't want it. Simplicity and low price is what they wanted."

Price was the most crucial point, because from it came decisions on what customers would be willing to live without. "A point came when trade-offs had to be made," said Mr. Hara, chief engineer and project leader, "with the price point as the guiding light." The focus group questioning became increasingly specific, such as asking if the group members would do without a centerstand just to keep the price at $4000. The answer was "Yes," which explains why the centerstand is an extra-cost option on the Nighthawk, and shows just how hard Honda had to look for corners to cut to keep the price under control. But the Nighthawk couldn't be a cheap-looking, plain-Jane motorcycle. People wanted value for their hard-earned dollars. Even features and performance took a backseat to value.

Hardware began to flow from the research. For the powerplant, Honda conveniently turned to its CBX750, a domestic Japanese model, and halfbrother to the American-market CB700SC Nighthawk S of 1984-86. The air-cooled, dohc, 16-valve inline-four neatly met the focus groups' requirements, with the added appeal of being the most sophisticated, compact example of its genre. Low-/no-maintenance features such as hydraulic valve-lash and cam-chain adjusters require almost appliance-like upkeep. Honda retained the CBX's chain drive because it was cheaper and lighter than the S' shaft, and because focus groups perceived it as being more sporty. To get the desired power characteristics--which Hara described as broad-range, with linear power delivery, and a good punch on top--Honda shrank the intake port and exhaust head pipe diameters, reduced valve sizes and lift, shortened camshaft duration and cut overlap almost in half; all to boost midrange and low-end. The chassis, likewise, represents a mixed bag of old and new. Most of the single-backbone, double-downtube frame is unique to the 750 Nighthawk, but Honda again turned to the CBX750, for the tubing that supports the swingarm-pivot. Wheelbase stretches a spacious 59.3 inches, for two-up room and stable handling. "We sought a middle ground between pure sport handling and touring [use]," said Hara, "but we altered the geometry toward sport." Maybe so, but the figures, with 29 degrees of rake and 4.6 inches of trail, are considerably more conservative than those found on almost any other current sporting hardware.

An 18-inch front wheel went on, partly for its traditional look, and partly for its stabilizing effect on handling. Suspension is all new, with the fork featuring CBR60OF2-style valving, which better centers the metering rod for more precise and consistent damping; both the fork and the shock have radiused oil galleries, to achieve the same end. The Nighthawk was given a twin-shock rear end with exposed top mounts because such a setup lends itself to bolt-on accessories-an important point raised in the focus groups-and because of its traditional appearance.

Peripheral hardware came from other models in Honda's lineup; some 80 percent of the Nighthawk started life elsewhere. The front brake rotor and caliper found work first on Honda's ST1100. Likewise, the front Dunlop's size and tread pattern are the same as the one on the ST, although carcass construction is different, Dunlop uses the same mold, which reduces costs. The headlight and rear tire come from the CB-1, the front fender from the Nighthawk S, the airbox from the CBX750, and the rear fender from Honda's Euro-model NTV650 Revere. Robbing the parts bins is a radical shift for Honda, a company that in the past has been driven to design unique versions of the most basic, common components for each new model. Still, Honda's Ray Blank disputes the notion that the Nighthawk is a creature of Frankenstein-like parts-bin engineering. Nodding toward the dipstick in the primary cover, he says the CBX uses a sightglass to check oil level. But some of the Nighthawk's target buyers, he says, left motorcycling when the dipstick was the predominant method of checking that vital fluid, and expect bikes to still have them. So Honda went to the expense, late in the project, of designing and casting a new primary cover with a dipstick. Even the mufflers were engineered to achieve a certain note. "We're weaving a thread through these parts to make the concept stand by itself," he said. Perhaps, but the turn-signal indicator between the instruments looks cheap and tacked on, as do the mufflers' wire heat-shields-which are next to useless for keeping nylon cold-weather suit pants from melting on the pipes. Time would have been better spent on such details than on the argument of sightglass versus dipstick. Those are quibbles, though. More important, how well did Honda meet its other goals for the Nighthawk? Starting with the engine, we can say that Honda accomplished precisely what it set out to do--perhaps too well, in some respects. The tuning tactics give the 750 big jumps in torque and horsepower throughout the rev range compared to the Nighthawk S' 696cc mill--until the two achieve parity at the 750's 8500-rpm redline. The 750 posts whopping 12 and 14 horsepower gains at 6000 and 7000 rpm, and makes the same power at its peak--62.6--as the 700 at the same rpm. The 750 might actually have the potential to make the same 67.7-peak as the 700, but the rev limiter cuts in at 9000 rpm; the 700 revved to 10,750. Honda's masterfully broad-band VFR750 shades the Nighthawk on top, but not as badly through the bottom and midrange as you'd think for an engine two generations newer. Just to put things in perspective, though, every 600 and 750 inline-four for sale in this country, except Kawasaki's 750 Zephyr, makes more peak power than the Nighthawk. And every one of them is quicker than the Nighthawk. Honda's latest 750 turns quarter-mile times and speeds virtually identical to those of its ancestor. Honda made good on the focus groups' request not to make the Nighthawk the quickest and fastest in its class. Even roll-on times are unspectacular, despite the Nighthawk being equipped with a five-speed while most 750s now carry six-speeds, and despite it weighing little more than most 600's. Why? Gearing and carburetion are the culprits. The Nighthawk's overall gearing in its top two ratios-fourth and fifth-are taller than the fifth and sixth of other 750s, for a long-legged touring feel the focus groups requested. In addition, lean carburetion creates soft throttle response below 4000 rpm, and occasional slight hesitation when you yank the butterflies open at low rpm. Relief is just a downshift or two away, but don't go looking to dust anybody in roll-ons; that's not what this machine is about.

The Nighthawk fulfills Hara's goal of a linear powerband with good punch on top. From the saddle, power builds remarkably smoothly, predictably through the middle, with a satisfying boost in thrust at 5000 rpm, and again at 7000. Running off the carburetor needles-at higher speeds and larger throttle openings engine response is sharp and immediate. It's an appropriate powerband for efficient propulsion, although some riders might trade some efficiency for more snap.

Despite rubber mounts for both the engine and the high-rise tubular handlebar, some low-key vibration filters through to the grips throughout the rev range. At normal speeds, only riders with exposed nerve endings in their hands will find the slight buzz offensive. The vibration only becomes intrusive at the top of the rev range; at 6000 rpm, the pegs start to tingle slightly, joined by the saddle at 7000, and the grips at 8000.

Still, there's not enough vibration to significantly impinge on the rider's comfort over the long-haul-another key focus-group request, and one the chassis fulfills admirably. The Nighthawk is big for a 750, with a literbike-long 59.3-inch wheelbase. Such size dovetails nicely with the American notion that bigger is better, and also provides the full-size accommodations to make long-term roadwork enjoyable. You grab the grips almost straight-armed, and the forwardmounted pegs position your knees at a comfortable near-right-angle; Honda paid special attention to the seat-to-peg distance, and it pays off handsomely. The saddle is commendably broad and flat in the riders portion, with padding that feels thick and firm. One tester put in back-to-back 350-mile days with no unusual fatigue.

The handlebar bend does prop you a bit too upright for the 65-to-75-mph speeds common on the highway, so you're struggling slightly against the wind, with too much pressure on your tailbone. It could be a simple matter of rotating the bar back to drop the grips slightly, but Honda has typically pinned the switch gear to the bar, which prevents positioning the levers to suit. We broke the pin, put things where we wanted them, and got comfortable. A flatter bar or a windscreen would be better solutions, easily allowed by the Nighthawk's deliberately mutable nature.

American Honda developed the Nighthawk's suspension, with the particularly difficult task of combining good ride quality with decent backroad abilities in a twin-shock setup with no available adjustments other than spring preload. "We wanted it soft for a compliant ride, but with enough damping to control the chassis for harder riding," said a Honda spokesman. For the most part, they were remarkably successful. The Nighthawk's suspension sucks up a wide variety of paving imperfections, and the saddle's excellent padding adds an extra line of bump-defense. Some harshness intrudes over square-edge bumps of every stripe, and over dropaways; we suspect a surplus of compression damping is the probable culprit. Suspension is the key to the Nighthawk's backroad competence. Despite its middle of the road appearance, this motorcycle is a flyer, staying planted and secure with little extraneous chassis motion through high-speed sweepers and tight, bumpy corners alike. Chassis and steering response are predictable, neutral, and consistent from corner to corner, surface to surface, with no tendency to stand up during combined turning and braking maneuvers; such linear behavior builds rider confidence. On paper, with its long wheelbase, 29 degree rake, 4.6 inches of trail, and 18-inch front wheel, the Nighthawk's response might look to be a bit sleepy. Sure enough, steering response is on the slow side, but the high, 29-inch-wide bar provides ample leverage to keep effort relatively low.

At hyperactive speeds, the Nighthawk's composure unravels only slightly. A lack of rebound damping allows the rear wheel to extend too quickly over bumps, and the front brake demands a workout. Despite plenty of braking power, the single disc requires a firm, high-effort squeeze to stop hard. Comering clearance sets maximum lean angles--hard parts drag before the edges of the tires fully scuff. The pegs hit first, followed by the sidestand on the left, then the centerstand. Even so, the Nighthawk comports itself admirably on a backroad. A talented rider might not blow off more powerful, single-purpose sport bikes, but he won't have to sit there and watch them vanish into the middle distance, either.

When he hits the city limits, he'll have advantages his more specialized brethren can only envy. The upright riding position and compliant ride make the Nighthawk an easier and more comfortable platform to negotiate through the confines of the urban maze than any sport bike, with their characteristic cramped ergonomics and stiff-legged suspension. In town, a rider will notice the Nighthawk's size--it seems to spread out in front of you--but it doesn't feel heavy or awkward, and won't intimidate. In slow-speed corners, the bike does require slight pressure on the inside grip to keep it from standing up.

You do have to ride around the carburetors' flat spot in town, though. Make a moderately hard launch away from traffic, and the bike lunges forward, then bogs., Either roll the throttle on smoothly, or use full power and slip the clutch brutally. During normal riding, the engine revs quickly enough in the lower gears to get through the lean spot unobtrusively.

After almost 1000 miles of every kind of riding, you'll be struck with how easily, how chameleonlike the Nighthawk adapts to different roles. And when you think about its price, you'll be left slackjawed. You could pay half-again to twice the Nighthawk's tariff, and still not get its broad-ranging brand of versatility.

In describing the Nighthawk, project leader Hara said he hoped to create "a balanced machine which thrills the heart, yet is easy to live with." He can be assured that balance and ease were achieved. Reaching a rider's heart, though, may be slightly more difficult. The Nighthawk will not ignite the baser passions for speed or hedonistic comfort. It caters to the simpler pleasure of merely riding-anywhere you want to go, any way you choose. In the end, that may be the more powerful appeal--but the one requiring the longer courtship.

Unlike the original CB750, the Nighthawk will never revolutionize motorcycling--a more complex and competitive sport than it was in 1969. But this new 750 does match its legendary predecessor in one regard: the sheer versatility it offers. It carries the CB750's heritage as one of the most affordable, egalitarian machines available, and that in itself is a noble accomplishment. The Nighthawk deserves to succeed on its own substantial merits. Whether it does or not depends on the people who designed it--you.

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