It took Honda only a decade to own the U.S. market. First Honda built little bitty bikes, then powerful middleweights and finally it devastated the competition with the coup de grace, the CB750.

This was the bike that killed the Western World-versus-Japan debate. The domestic and European brands had retreated to the high ground of large displacement as they saw their small-motorcycle market being absorbed by the eastern imports. Still, they were sure the Japanese would never build a good big bike. The CB750 blew them out of the water. In 1969, this motorcycle set benchmarks for the next decade. Racer, street bike, tourer, the CB750 could do it all for two-thirds the price of a Sportster and for less than the price of a British twin. Other bikes had four cylinders before (although nobody could quite remember when), other bikes had electric starters (mostly other Hondas) and other bikes had disc brakes (but only on the racetrack). But those features together? That was a stunner in 1969, and the baby boomers who learned to ride on Hondas were ready for it. They bought thousands. Now their kids want to ride one too. But the old folks may not want to share.

The immaculate one-owner 1969 CB750 in the photos belongs to American Honda's Gary Christopher. Gary bought the bike new in '69 and has racked up only 10,000 miles in the twenty-three and a half years since. The bike's pristine condition is a tribute to Gary's care over the years. Christopher was reluctant at first to let his baby be thrashed by a bunch of journalists, but he relented just a bit, letting us take his pride and joy on a comparison canyon ride.

The first CB750s are popularly known as the KO because they predate the first updated model, the CB75OK1, released (with many improvements) in 1970.

The KO's painted airbox was replaced by a black, plastic, ribbed affair the next year, and the disc-brake caliper gained a coat of black paint. Otherwise, the four was to remain amazingly close to its original form over its 10 year production run. Most models gain weight and lose speed with age, and the Honda four was no exception. The original four-into-four mufflers were replaced after the first model year with a quieter, but more restrictive set (still in the four-into-four configuration). The very first models had an abbreviated chain guard that sprayed passengers with chain lube. Gary's has the correct extended-plastic type, installed as a quick fix by Honda. Christopher misplaced the original but found this piece in a Honda dealer in east Texas. His career with Honda gives him certain advantages in finding parts. The Kl gained an extended metal chain guard.

In stock form the CB750 wasn't the quickest or the fastest. Its high 13 second quarter-mile time could be beaten with a Triumph Trident or Norton Commando, and a good 500cc triple Kawasaki left the Honda for dead. But in 1970, none of these bikes could be massaged into race trim with such reliability as the CB750.

WINNING RACES

The seal of success was Dick Mann's 1970 Daytona 200 win; riding a racekitted 750, he beat the best of the world's factory superbike. But his bike was far from stock, tuned within millimeters of its life (and its life turned out to be 200 miles and two inches). Roger Reiman, Dick Mann's teammate in the race, retired halfway after his cam-chain tensioner broke; Mann's engine was apparently ready to fall apart at the finish. The cam and primary chains were the weak point of these motors on the racetrack. Obviously, the bike was never designed for such strenuous use, but racers kept putting Honda fours on the racetrack and kept winning.

Former AFM South racer Jeff Steele is a good example; in the early '70s he converted a 56 mile road for the track. His CB750 cranked out 41 horsepower at the rear wheel in stock form -- (which puts some perspective on the claimed 67 ponies; in those days, ponies were smaller). With an lskendarian-reworked cam, CR750 pistons (raising capacity from 736 to 749cc) and stainless steel intake valves, aftermarket springs and titanium collars, Steele's CB kicked out 27 ponies below 7000 rpm, 53 ponies shortly afterward. The ride was intense.

Back then, production racers had to keep stock mufflers and forks but could change rear dampers and fork oil. With a factory CR close-ratio transmission that narrowed the gaps between every gear except fourth and long-legged fifth, Jeff's CB was difficult to beat in production racing.

Kawasaki's Zl eventually terminated the Honda's reign, but only after Russ Collins' RC Engineering team found some extra power in the monster 903cc motor. The CB750 went on to impress a generation of riders with its capacity for all kinds of motorcycling.

VITAL STATISTICS

Sometimes, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. In 1969, just having four cylinders, electric starting and disc brakes was enough to impress. In 1993, a motorcycle also better have comfort, smoothness, balanced brakes with good feedback and crisp handling. On paper both bikes' dimensions are the same, but what you notice first about the old bike are its narrow tank and a whole lot of engine revving down there. The four pipes literally let the rider hear each cylinder, and the mass of cylinder head exposed on either side of the tank rumbles and roars.

The SOHC four is mechanically noisy enough to let you know what's happening down below in the engine room. Born before stringent noise limits, the CB is silenced by its four individual mufflers but emits an cacophony of clatter from both drive and cam chains.

As with all the later models, this first-year K-0 uses a bank of four 28mm Keihin slide-type carburetors. Initially, each had its own cable, linked to the throttle by a four-into one junction box. This is fine in theory, except each cable seems to stretch at a different rate and carburetor adjustment must be checked weekly to keep the four slides synchronized. After the first model year, Honda went to a push-pull linkage that eased the four's abrupt throttle response and cut down on the effort necessary to open those slides. In these days of low-effort CV carbs, it's hard to believe the aching wrist you get after even short trips. Not only is the throttle stiff, it takes two turns to open it completely.

The ignition key lives in what now seems to be a bewildering place under left front of the tank. An antitheft device? Perhaps, but it took Honda years to move it to the handlebars. A separate steering lock lives on the fork and is more secure than the modern bike's since a thief must deal with two locks.

It was an era of transformation. You could turn your CB into anything you wanted: sport bike (called a cafe racer back then), tourer (just add a Vetter fairing and Bates saddlebags) or chopper (remember them?). Heck, the dealer would even do the work for you (hard to imagine today). Just pick out the extended fork and the rigid frame you want, cough up the extra cash and you'd get your custom bike right off the showroom floor. About the only place the CB couldn't compete was in the dirt.

But the ensuing years have added focus. The new Nighthawk really isn't all that different if you believe the numbers, but those statistics lie. Nowadays, suspension works well enough that tires don't have to be engineered for comfort; they're much wider too, and they work. Coils don't short out in the rain, contact breaker points don't need adjusting every couple of thousand miles, chains can be left a lot longer than 100 miles between adjustments... the list is endless. Any one of today's machines would be the height of luxury back in 1970.

Starting up the old CB750 is a familiar drill, complicated only by the carburetor-mounted choke lever: lift it to horizontal, and hit the button on the remarkably small right-hand handset. Surprisingly for a bike of this era, the CB is very cold-blooded, needing several minutes of choke jiggling before taking off.

The handlebar switches show how ergonomics have changed. They seem tiny, yet have more to control than today's broad toggles. On the right bar, one switch controls lights and the headlamp's high and low beam. A simple detent separates the two functions, and it's all too easy to turn the lights off altogether instead of switching beams. The large speedometer and tach are much easier to read than today's tiny instruments. Observers can read them from the side of the highway as the bike goes by.

Power comes on gradually in the midrange. By 4000 rpm the fairly longstroke engine has built up a head of steam, and charges toward the 8500rpm redline with only slightly more vibration than today's motorcycles.

Changing gear requires a good long pull on the large clutch lever and a positive push with the foot on the long-travel gear lever. Everything seems to take more positive effort and often less feedback than on modern bikes.

The seat is broad and board hard. After 20 years it's a reminder of a time when seats didn't have to be styled to follow the contours of the bike, but seat foam didn't last past the end of the warranty period.

The single stainless steel front disc, with its single-piston caliper floating on a hinged and sprung bracket, works okay but lacks any feel; the brake feels wooden, unresponsive.

In one way, the front fork shows how far backward style has dragged motorcycle design; the tubes are covered with seal-protecting gaiters that no manufacturer would dare to fit these days. Otherwise, the fork feels its age. Heavy-duty springs fight against the fork stiction that almost renders damping unnecessary, which is just as well because there isn't much.

Riding the four reminds you how primitive motorcycle suspension was two decades ago; the oversprung, underdamped front end works well compared to the awful rear dampers, which wallow over every crack in the pavement, One bump is enough to set the CB off in an undulating weave and engenders the fear of hitting the huge centerstand, Ground clearance is extremely limited, though to be fair, the Honda never had a reputation for handling.

The new Nighthawk is longer than the old CB, strange in an age of smaller wheels and steeper fork angles. But then the old 750 measures exactly the same length as Kawasaki's throwback Zephyr 750.

Aesthetically, it's no contest. The boxy, straight-edged lines of the Nighthawk's motor just don't work with its bulgingly curved bodywork. The old CB is a looker, lacking the complexity of the Nighthawk's external oil lines and piggyback alternator.

In its day, the CB750 was regarded as complicated and servicing was feared. It's hard to see why today since the screw-and-locknut-adjusted valves are all but hanging out in the breeze and the contact breaker points (two sets) are within easy reach under

the right crankcase cover. These early four-cylinder motors have an excellent reliability record.

BRING ON THE NEW

The Nighthawk just feels like a modern bike. All the controls are tight, easy to reach and in the right places. The bars are slightly forward but comfortably low, and the rider's knees tuck easily into the curve of the tank.

Thumbing the starter button spins the motor over briskly. It's also a touch balky, but after a minute or two the Nighthawk settles into a smooth idle. A short tap on the lever notches the gear in with a click, and the engine responds to the throttle instantly. User friendliness is the Nighthawk's great strength. Valves that theoretically never need adjusting and digital electronic ignition remove a lot of the time and trouble of servicing. An easy-to-reach spin-off oil filter also makes the home mechanic's work simple, and the optional centerstand makes it easier still.

The rider instantly feels at home on the Nighthawk. The motorcycle envelops you, giving you the feeling of being in it rather than perched on top of it. All the controls are lighter, easier to reach and offer more feedback than the old bike's huge levers. The single front disc is eons ahead.

The much more rigid chassis of the modern bike combines with 17-inch wheels that offer almost the same rolling radius as the old bike's narrow 19s with much more support on the sides. The new bike can be turned faster, will dive deeper into a corner than the old nail ever would, and the '93 Nighthawk's tucked-in mufflers offer inches more ground clearance.

In the '90s, success at the racetrack trickles down to the street a lot faster. Today's Nighthawk is about as removed from racetrack success as a motorcycle can be, yet it is an immensely more capable sporting motorcycle than its predecessor, faster and much easier to ride. Suspension seems to have advanced centuries in 23 years.

Don't believe the statistics; don't believe the retreads hiding behind rose-colored glasses. Today's technology lets the motorcyclist ride longer and have more fun than even the most technologically advanced motorcycle of a quarter of a century ago.

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