Angry Antique

ANGRY ANTIQUE

RIDING THE RC 165

KB EWS OF SOMETHING SPECIAL IN THE 'Hf? Honda camp spread throughout ■ C'Y;C: the Monza paddock. The year Ü was 1964 and Honda had flown in a secret weapon with hopes of retaining the 250cc world championship. Hidden beneath a tarpaulin in Jim Redman's pit was the sensational RC Six. It had been hastily completed in Japan with little time for testing prior to the Italian GP. In fact, shipping the bike to Italy via normal air freight would have taken too long, so seats were removed from an Italian airliner and the bike was strapped into the passenger compartment accompanied by Redman.

There would be no storybook ending, however. The bike overheated while leading the race, killing Honda’s championship hopes. But a racing legend was bom that afternoon.

Now, 30 years later nearly to the day, the paddock at the annual AHRMA (American Historic Racing Motorcycle Association) event held in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, is abuzz with speculation surrounding the very bike Redman first rode at Monza. Throughout the day, spectators and racers alike have filed past the Team Obsolete pit, gathering a firsthand look at the legendary Honda Six. I had traveled to Steamboat for the privilege of being one of the first people to ride the bike in more than 20 years.

As the afternoon wears on, crew chief Nobby Clark shifts his attention from the team’s MV Triple, another piece of racing history that had won the day’s 500 Premier race, to the Six. Clark makes final preparation, readying the Honda for the upcoming MRA (Mountain Racing Association) practice session.

Bump-starting the Six empties the bleachers overlooking Turn One at the far end of the paddock as people migrate toward the source of its unique, high-pitched blare. With all the intensity of an air-raid siren, the exhaust note emanating from the Six’s array of open megaphones has the growing crowd of onlookers holding their fingers to their ears. The revs never dip below 8000 rpm as Clark blips the throttle. There’s no flywheel effect to speak of, evident by a tachometer needle that snaps from 8000 to 18,000 rpm instantly, then falls back to 8000 just as quickly. I shudder to think I’ll soon be riding this angry antique.

Team Obsolete’s lead rider, Dave Roper, is first to try the Six, putting in three laps to ensure all is sound. Clark has done well-few cobwebs remain after nearly 25 years of inactive duty. An adjustment is made to the frontbrake cable, then I’m given the thumbs-up for the ride of a lifetime.

Bumping-off the Six takes a trained throttle hand, as opening the throttle just a bit too much or too little has equal effect-lots of pushing and no fire. I give it a good try without success. After catching our breath and tickling all six of the needle-less Keihin flat-slides, Clark and I trade positions. This time I push while he operates the throttle. A crackle, a sputter, followed by a second or two of rough running, then the Six clears its throat and lets out a wail capable of tripping auto alarms a block away.

The shifter is on the right and has a one-up, six-down pattern, its tall first ratio requiring a great deal of clutch slip to get the bike rolling smoothly. Holding the revs around 13,000 rpm, I ease away. The dry clutch has good, progressive feel as well as a very light pull at the lever. “We never had a clutch failure,” Clark assures me. Throttle action is also surprisingly light by racebike standards.

As I work my way around the 1.8mile, 10-turn street circuit located at the base of the Steamboat ski area, my mind is racing although the RC is going slow. Not only am I coming to grips with the Honda’s hyper-light handling, stubby bars and unfamiliar shifter position, I’m learning the course, as well. By my fourth lap I’ve settled in a bit and get a clean drive off Turn Two, a bumpy, first-gear right, complete with manhole covers and a trackside liquor store/deli. Could this be akin to what Hailwood may have viewed through the mid-height windscreen of a similar Six en route to victory at the Isle of Man? Naw, with enough straw bails lining the Steamboat streets to fatten a sizable herd through the harshest Rocky Mountain winter, there’s nary a bare stone wall in sight.

I accelerate up through three gears down Lodge Straight before downshifting and getting on the brakes for a pair of 90-degree, first-gear rights. The Six produces astonishingly little engine vibration as it spins to 17,000 rpm between shifts. The gearbox has a refined feel, with light and precise shifting action. It’s geared for a much faster circuit, however, so the tight Steamboat course confines me to the bottom three gears through much of a lap. Revs drop 3200 rpm when changing up into second and 2300 rpm between second and third. Regrettably, I never see sixth or seventh, where much closer ratio spacing hardly disrupts exhaust pitch on the shift.

As I run through Turns Five and Six, a pair of long, constant-radius bends making up the Steamboat Esses, the engine sputters and surges in protest. It doesn’t take well to steady-state running at partial throttle, clearly a jetting problem that could be sorted out given time.

Will there be a next time for the Six, maybe a fast circuit where it can

stretch its legs? “These bikes ought to be raced, used and seen,” says TO's Rob lannucci, clearly a man who gets great pleasure from the sight, sound and smell of such classics in motion.

With the meter running, tallying an operating cost of-according to lannucci-roughly $1000 per lap, my time aboard the Honda 250 Six was limited. Questions of maximum cornering clearance and braking potential have been left to the history books as the bike may be worth more than my life. And just how much is that?

“At the price that bikes like the Honda Six trade at, the air gets very thin and there aren’t a lot of players,” says an evasive lannucci. “If somebody comes along and wants to write a check for the right amount? I’m not sure I know what that amount is, but I’ll know it when I see it.”

Rumor has it that a $5 followed by five 0s would be sufficient to get lannucci’s attention.

Don Canet