So, there was this 1972 Honda bike. Wasn’t exactly planning on getting one, you know? It just sort of… happened. Found it tucked away, looking sorry for itself. Figured, why not? Needed something to keep my hands busy, stop me from rearranging the sock drawer for the fifth time that week. My wife said it was either this or I’d start talking to the squirrels. She was probably right.
The Starting Point – Or Lack Thereof
Let me tell you, this thing was rough. Really rough. Looked like it had been stored in a swamp, then maybe dragged behind a truck for a bit. Rust everywhere, parts missing, wires going nowhere. The fella I got it from said it “ran when parked.” Yeah, right. Parked in 1983, maybe. My first thought was, “What have I gotten myself into?” But, you know, the challenge of it, that’s the hook.
Started by just staring at it for a good long while. Tried to make a list of what was obviously shot. The list got real long, real fast.
- Seat? Gone. Or, what was left looked like a dog’s chew toy.
- Tank? Dented and full of gunk.
- Engine? Who knew. It was all there, at least visually. That was something.
- Electrics? A rat’s nest. Literally, I think a rat had tried to make a home in there.
It was a proper mess. My garage started looking like a scrapyard’s forgotten corner.
Tearing it Down – The “Fun” Part
So, I grabbed my wrenches and started taking it apart. Every bolt was a battle. Some were rusted solid, others just spun, laughing at me. Lots of penetrating oil, lots ofcussing. You know how it is. The more I took off, the more problems I found. It’s always like that, isn’t it? You peel back one layer of an old project and find three more layers of trouble underneath. My initial optimism started to take a few hits, I won’t lie.
I labeled everything. Little bags, tags, scribbled notes. Thought I was being real clever. By the time I was halfway through, I had a bench full of parts that all looked vaguely similar and my “system” felt more like a vague suggestion. My kid came in, looked at the pile of bits, and asked if I was building a robot. Close enough, I guess.
The Great Parts Scavenger Hunt
Then came the fun of finding parts. For a ’72 Honda, you’d think it’d be easy. Nope. Some bits are common, sure. But those specific little widgets, the ones that are always broken or missing? Good luck. Scouring the internet, old forums, calling folks who might “know a guy.” It’s a whole sub-hobby in itself. And the prices! Some people think they’re selling gold, not old motorcycle parts. I swear, half the battle with these old things is just sourcing what you need without taking out a second mortgage.
Ended up with parts from three different states and one that I think came from a guy’s personal stash he’d been hoarding since the Carter administration. Patience, that’s the key. And a willingness to talk to some very… eccentric characters.
Getting Greasy – Engine and Bones
Once I had most of the bits, or at least enough to make a start, it was time for the engine. Pulled it, cleaned it – years of grime. It actually wasn’t as bad inside as I feared. Some stuck rings, sure, and the carburetors needed a serious deep clean and rebuild. My hands were black for weeks. No amount of soap could get that ingrained grease out. Felt like I was shedding a layer of skin just from scrubbing.
The frame needed some love too. Sandblasted it, checked for cracks, a bit of weld here and there. Nothing major, thankfully. Then primer, then paint. Went with a classic red. Took me a few tries to get the paint looking halfway decent. My first attempt looked like an orange peel. Practice, practice, practice. And a better spray gun, eventually.
Putting Humpty Dumpty Back Together Again
Reassembly. This is where those little bags and tags were supposed to save me. They helped, mostly. But there’s always that one bolt, that one bracket, you just can’t remember where it goes. Or you put something on, then realize three steps later it has to come off again because you forgot a spacer. It’s like a 3D puzzle with no picture on the box and half the pieces are dirty.
The wiring was a special kind of fun. The old harness was toast. So, I got a new one, but it was never quite plug-and-play, was it? Tracing wires, checking continuity, making sure nothing was going to short out and start a fire. That took a while. And a lot of coffee.
The Moment of Truth
Finally, it looked like a motorcycle again. Not a showroom queen, mind you. More like a well-loved workhorse. Put some fresh gas in, hooked up a battery, took a deep breath. Turned the key. Kicked it over. Nothing. Kicked again. A cough! A sputter! Then, believe it or not, it rumbled to life. Okay, “rumbled” might be generous for this old thumper, but it was running! That feeling, man. That’s why you do it. All those hours, all that frustration, just melts away when you hear that engine fire up for the first time.
Had to fine-tune the carbs, adjust the timing, all that jazz. Little tweaks here and there. But it ran. It actually ran.
Out on The Road (Sort Of)
Took it for a spin around the block. Carefully. Everything felt… vintage. The brakes needed a good talking to, the suspension was a bit bouncy. But it moved under its own power. That old Honda charm, you know? It’s not fast, it’s not fancy, but it’s got character. Something these new bikes just don’t have, all plastic and computers.
Still got a few little things to sort out. A bit of polishing, maybe find a better-looking mirror. But it’s a rider. And it kept me out of the sock drawer. So, I guess it was worth it. Now, what to do with that old lawnmower engine I’ve got lying around…