A Rare Thrill
‘On riding the Bimota decades later, I didn’t fully appreciate just how great it was until I got home and began looking through a pile of old motorcycle magazines’
THE OPPORTUNITY TO RIDE AN early Bimota had been a rare thrill and the HB2 had very much lived up to expectations. The machine created around Honda's four-cylinder CB900F engine by design maestro Massimo Tamburini had been sleek, fast, and packed with advanced features, as is to be expected of the small Italian firm that had already established a mighty reputation when this bike was built in 1982.
Even so, on riding the Bimota decades later, I didn't fully appreciate just how great it was until I got home and began looking through a pile of old motorcycle magazines. It wasn't the one article I managed to find about the HB2 itself that was so revealing, even though that story was filled with almost unqualified praise; phrases such as “perfect balance” and “most incredible, exhilarating and beautiful experience on two wheels”.
No, what really made me appreciate the Bimota's class was being reminded of the Japanese production bikes that were the best on the road back in '82. Kawasaki had just revised their big red GPz1100 four, Suzuki had their stylish Katana 1100, and Yamaha were still plugging away with the ungainly XS1100. Honda had just launched the exotic CB1100R, essentially a street-legal production racer.
Most of those big four-cylinder superbikes, with their simple steel frames and twin rear shocks, seemed like dinosaurs in comparison with the Bimota, whose rounded half-fairing, one-piece tank-seat unit, aluminium frame sections, and risingrate rear suspension system identified it as a machine from a different world. Even the mighty CB1100R, stunning and exclusive as it was at the time, was almost ordinary by comparison.
The HB2's innovative engineering and high-quality design are hardly surprising, given the genius who had created it. Tamburini had co-founded Bimota with Valerio Bianchi and Giuseppe Morri, initially to make heating systems. The first Bimota street bike had been the HB1, created in 1973 around the four-cylinder engine of a Honda CB750 that Tamburini had crashed at Misano.
Bimota went on to establish its reputation in grand prix racing in the next few years, notably when producing chassis for the twostroke twins that took Johnny Cecotto and Walter Villa to 250- and 350-cc world championships. Only 10 examples of the HB1 were built and when Bimota began producing four-cylinder street bikes in a greater number, they did so using Suzuki and Kawasaki power. The SB2, released in 1977, used Suzuki's GS750 engine. The KB1 that followed a year later adapted that bike's exquisite steel frame to take Kawasaki's Z900 and Z1000 units. The KB1 was a success, with over 800 being sold.
In 1979, Honda released the CB900F four and it was this bike's air-cooled, 901-cc twincam engine that Bimota used, three years later, to power the HB2. The 16-valve motor was left standard, complete with its bank of 32-millimetre Keihin carbs and air-box, although many owners took the opportunity to fit 33-mm flat-slide Mikunis. Bimota's intricate, twin-silencer exhaust system saved some weight, although it was barely louder than the Honda system and would not have done much to increase the standard 900F's output of 94 bhp.
The big motor was partially covered by the Bimota's half-fairing, which looks a bit dated now but blended well with the one
piece tank-seat unit. (This could be removed after undoing just four Allen bolts plus an electrical connector.) Although the screen was usefully tall and protective by modern standards, the view from the rider's thinly padded single seat was of a top yoke machined from a solid chunk of lightweight avional alloy. In places the irregular pattern of hand machining was visible, giving the bike a real feel of having been constructed by craftsmen.
It was when that long tank-seat unit was removed that the real quality of the HB2 became clear. The frame's visible parts, the steel tubes that ran down to join the alloy plates at the swing-arm pivot, were backed up by numerous smaller tubes that gave great rigidity around the steering head. Those aluminium plates at the swing-arm pivot provided strength and light weight in that crucial area ― in a manner that Tamburini would repeat, in much updated form, in the chassis he created more than 15 years later for the 750 F4 with which MV Agusta was spectacularly reborn.
In typical Bimota style, the HB2 frame was also hung with a variety of top-class cycle parts. A De Carbon rear shock, vertically mounted and operated via a rising-rate linkage, replaced the twin shocks used by even the best Japanese superbikes, including the CB1100R. Front suspension was suitably exotic, too, thanks to a pair of Ceriani forks which had gold-finished sliders and, at the top of the legs, knurled adjusters that could be turned by hand.
Other high-quality items included fivespoke, gold finished Campagnolo alloy wheels, in the 16-inch diameters that were popular in grand prix racing at the time. The front brake set-up of twin-piston Brembo calipers and drilled 280-mm discs was regarded as state of the art in its day, as was the Michelin rubber, the rear of which was a fat (by 1982 standards, at least) 150-section M48.
The HB2 was seriously fast, fine-handling and exotic back in 1982 ― as it should have been, costing more than twice as much as the CB900F that provided its engine (over £6,000, that is, ₹ 5.58) against the Honda's £2,450, that is, ₹ 2.27, in the UK). Almost 200 were built in 1982 and '83, a fairly high number by Rimini standards, before Bimota replaced it with the very similar HB3, which used Honda's more powerful CB1100 engine.
This particular example had been very well looked after. Its paint and alloy were in great shape although rubber parts, notably the tyres and thin seat pad, were showing their age. The exhaust had developed small holes on either side close to the lowest point, the typical result of too many short journeys allowing moisture to collect on the inside of the pipe and rusting it from the inside, but that was repairable.
My first impressions of the Bimota were deceptive. On climbing aboard for the first time, I was put in a fairly relaxed frame of mind by the tall, sports-tourer style screen and by the pair of black-faced, old-style Honda instruments. When the motor fired up, it seemed smooth, quiet, and inoffensive, with none of the hard edge that I had expected given Bimota's reputation for uncompromising high performance.
But if the motor remained surprisingly quiet and smooth as I pulled away, the Bimota's riding position and general feel were far from that of the naked CB900F.
The clip-on bars were quite low and I had to reach across the fuel-tank cover whose huge flat top could have doubled as a coffee table. Despite being used to modern sports bikes, I struggled to get my feet tucked up on to the lightweight alloy rear-sets, which were set high and far back.
Once settled into position, though, feeling very much part of the bike tucked behind that screen, I could easily understand why the HB2 must have blown the minds of the few people who got to ride one when it was new. Perhaps, the one word that sums it up best is “effortless”. The Bimota seemed to float over the ground, responding to every rider input with almost the ease and precision of a good modern bike.
Much of the reason for that was simply the rigidity and quality of the chassis. This was one early-'80s frame that didn't have a chance of flexing even under maximum acceleration or braking forces. The Bimota's steering geometry was considerably racier than that of contemporary Japanese superbikes, too. Combine that with greatly reduced weight ― roughly 200 kg, compared to the CB900F's 233 kg dry ― and it's easy to see where the Bimota got its edge.
Perhaps, the single most impressive aspect of the bike was its suspension, which gave a superbly well-controlled yet also very comfortable ride. There was none of the harshness that I'd expected of such a sporty Italian missile. Better still, the slightly loose, past-their-best feel of most older bikes' suspension was absent, presumably because the HB2 had spent almost all its pampered life doing nothing more energetic that sitting in an Italian Ferrari dealer's showroom.
The Brembo brakes were excellent, too, living up to their reputation, although inevitably they needed a fair bit more lever pressure than a modern system. All of which made me even more frustrated that the original Michelins had not survived anything like as well. I had to make sure I didn't get too carried away in the bends, because it would have been all too easy to crash this bike by cornering too hard on its hard and slightly cracked tyres.
Happily, there were no such worries on the straights, where the big Honda motor did enough to show why it was highly regarded back in '82. At lower revs, it was most impressive for its smoothness and civility, doubtless aided by the fact that the bike's only previous owner had retained the standard fitment CV carbs. There were no glitches or stumbles as the Bimota purred sweetly and improbably quietly forward at the twist of my wrist, its reasonably precise five-speed gearbox rarely needed once I'd got above 80 km/h.
It was well worth using the revs and making the effort with my left foot, though, because the Bimota was pretty damn fast when revved to its 9,500-rpm red-line through the gears. And, unlike the naked Honda, the HB2 had the fairing and the tucked-in riding position to make 150 km/ h-plus speeds not just bearable but hugely enjoyable for pretty much as long as I dared. Needless to say, the bike was impeccably stable as it headed to a top speed of about 220 km/h.
After a very enjoyable and entertainingly quick ride, I couldn't help concluding that, although the Bimota is outclassed by modern bikes in many ways, it would still make a respectably fast, if uncompromising, sports-tourer even today. That's high praise, so long after it was built. And, as I realised after getting home, it's only when the HB2 is compared to its contemporaries that the full brilliance of Tamburini's creation becomes clear.