The wonderful thing about tiggers
Posted: Fri May 07, 2021 7:39 pm
It’s long been an ambition of mine, if not a concrete aim, to own one “landmark” bike from several decades. So, I’ve got a 750 Commando from the 70s, an RD350LC from the 80s, and happened upon this low mileage, very clean and very original Honda 900 Fireblade from 1994. The series was introduced in 1992 so it’s one of the original bikes and is in the desirable “Urban Tiger” colour scheme. If ever a bike deserved landmark status it’s a 90s Fireblade. Bought late last year, weather, lockdown and a series of hiccups stopped me riding it until this week. Finally, with MoT and tax in hand I’ve spent most of today on it and able to report what it feels like to ride a legend. Coming from an era where the fast bikes were “sports tourers” (but in reality, not very good at either thing), the Fireblade was revolutionary. Although it kept to the tried and tested Japanese in-line 4-cylinder engine format it was punchy with 120 bhp on tap, in a lightweight package with nimble steering and head-down riding position, setting it apart from the competition straight away. Go-faster touches abound, from the “lightening” style holes in the fairing to the dinner-plate sized brake discs to the 16” front tyre, copied from Grand Prix practice for faster steering. Having been a bit of a speed freak myself in the past it was a bike I decided I just had to own.
I’d always felt roadgoing sports bikes were a bit of a contradiction in terms after racing an ex-grand prix TZ350 Yamaha in the 1980s. It was about the size of a 125 learner bike but went like a scalded ferret and cornered like it was on rails. At 6ft1 it was a bit of a crowbar job to get myself on it but I managed, and got some useful results out of it. So, getting on a 900cc 4-cylinder bike I thought it would be like an armchair. It isn’t. Despite the bulk of the engine and the big fuel tank sitting atop it, Honda have done a great job making the bike feel small and agile. The only thing that feels “big” is the stretch to the low handlebars, though arguably that forces you into a racing crouch, complemented by high footrests for cornering ground clearance. But I have to stop the praise for a moment I’m afraid. It really is horribly uncomfortable. The bars are too far forward, leaving your crown jewels rammed against the back of the tank, your weight on your wrists leaves you crying for mercy at every junction, and the footrests are too far forward to take any weight on them. Perhaps a smaller rider would find the seating position acceptable but then they’d need a taxi to get them to the handlebars. Having accumulated a bit of girth over the years probably didn’t help me, but try as I might I just couldn’t get comfortable on the Blade.
Despite mixed first impressions the Fireblade is seriously impressive out on the road. Smooth and refined, it’s happy to trickle round town at 2-3,000 rpm but wind it up to the 10,000 redline and ye gods does it shift. It’s hard to find a bit of road where you can open up a big bike these days and I certainly didn’t try it for top speed, but a quick blat on a clear bit of dual carriageway provides total sensory overload. Back on the A roads, it’s confident and assured, not over-endowed with midrange power but happy to nip past dawdling caravans. Despite the large prominent rev counter right in front of the rider, frequent gear changing is a must as the gears are close ratio, much like a racing gearbox, and you’re up and down all the time, in short slick typically Honda shifts.
Road tests at the time criticised the 16” front wheel for making the bike too twitchy on steering, but I can’t fault it. It changes direction effortlessly but remains straight and stable in the bends with no steering damper needed. Plenty of power on tap and two-finger braking make this a bike you can swing through bends like it was made to do it, which of course it was.
Owning the Fireblade is a bit like meeting the woman of your dreams, then finding she’s a Tory voter. There’s so much going for it – a genuinely awesome piece of riding machinery, beautifully engineered and beautiful to look at, but the riding position is just awful. To me, this spoils something that was supposed to be perfect. My other “classics” aren’t perfect but I’m emotionally invested in them in a way that I’m not in the Blade. Is it a keeper? I genuinely don’t know. I’ll keep it this year for sure and I’m hopefully doing a big trip (on another bike) next year so maybe not selling then either. It could be an “investment” but that’s not really me. I like to ride my bikes not just look at them, and it’s money and garage space tied up that I’d rather not tie up. An occasional “sunny day” bike for quick blasts then, beyond that we’ll see. I wonder if there’s space in the dining room.
I’d always felt roadgoing sports bikes were a bit of a contradiction in terms after racing an ex-grand prix TZ350 Yamaha in the 1980s. It was about the size of a 125 learner bike but went like a scalded ferret and cornered like it was on rails. At 6ft1 it was a bit of a crowbar job to get myself on it but I managed, and got some useful results out of it. So, getting on a 900cc 4-cylinder bike I thought it would be like an armchair. It isn’t. Despite the bulk of the engine and the big fuel tank sitting atop it, Honda have done a great job making the bike feel small and agile. The only thing that feels “big” is the stretch to the low handlebars, though arguably that forces you into a racing crouch, complemented by high footrests for cornering ground clearance. But I have to stop the praise for a moment I’m afraid. It really is horribly uncomfortable. The bars are too far forward, leaving your crown jewels rammed against the back of the tank, your weight on your wrists leaves you crying for mercy at every junction, and the footrests are too far forward to take any weight on them. Perhaps a smaller rider would find the seating position acceptable but then they’d need a taxi to get them to the handlebars. Having accumulated a bit of girth over the years probably didn’t help me, but try as I might I just couldn’t get comfortable on the Blade.
Despite mixed first impressions the Fireblade is seriously impressive out on the road. Smooth and refined, it’s happy to trickle round town at 2-3,000 rpm but wind it up to the 10,000 redline and ye gods does it shift. It’s hard to find a bit of road where you can open up a big bike these days and I certainly didn’t try it for top speed, but a quick blat on a clear bit of dual carriageway provides total sensory overload. Back on the A roads, it’s confident and assured, not over-endowed with midrange power but happy to nip past dawdling caravans. Despite the large prominent rev counter right in front of the rider, frequent gear changing is a must as the gears are close ratio, much like a racing gearbox, and you’re up and down all the time, in short slick typically Honda shifts.
Road tests at the time criticised the 16” front wheel for making the bike too twitchy on steering, but I can’t fault it. It changes direction effortlessly but remains straight and stable in the bends with no steering damper needed. Plenty of power on tap and two-finger braking make this a bike you can swing through bends like it was made to do it, which of course it was.
Owning the Fireblade is a bit like meeting the woman of your dreams, then finding she’s a Tory voter. There’s so much going for it – a genuinely awesome piece of riding machinery, beautifully engineered and beautiful to look at, but the riding position is just awful. To me, this spoils something that was supposed to be perfect. My other “classics” aren’t perfect but I’m emotionally invested in them in a way that I’m not in the Blade. Is it a keeper? I genuinely don’t know. I’ll keep it this year for sure and I’m hopefully doing a big trip (on another bike) next year so maybe not selling then either. It could be an “investment” but that’s not really me. I like to ride my bikes not just look at them, and it’s money and garage space tied up that I’d rather not tie up. An occasional “sunny day” bike for quick blasts then, beyond that we’ll see. I wonder if there’s space in the dining room.


