Hodaka
Heaven
One
of my favourite Gassit frames has the dog sitting on the toilet, obviously suffering
a major case of the quandaries. Looking thoroughly grumped, his speech bubble
says, "It's all the fault of that motorbike magazine." Amen.
I had the temerity to search out a bike for daughter number two, Althea, who
had outgrown her Z50. It's a sad reflection on the motorcycle trade that I tried
three shops, cashed up and ready to buy, and couldn't excite any interest in
the idea of finding us her next bike. There was $1500 in the kitty, or more
for the right used machine. Cash wasn't a problem.
"Nah, sorry mate, we don't get many of those," was the reply when
inquiring after an old XR100 or similar. The disinterest reached new depths
when I hinted that I didn't mind paying a premium if the shop in question did
the searching for me. Maybe I'm an idiot, but I would have thought a few hundred
bucks profit might have been useful at the local dealerships.
Like me, Althea was staggered at the sheer rudeness in one case, and slack attitude
in two others.
So, in desperation, I measured Althea up on the family Hodaka, found she almost
fitted, and advertised for more of the same via sister magazine Australian Motorcycle
Trader. I was buried in calls.
One week and $900 later, we're the proud owners of five Ace 100Bs. Between them,
I figure we can stitch together two nice original runners, one of which we'll
sell, plus two rat bikes for weekend trail duties. And another for spares.
Now the name Hodaka might be a mystery to you, so we'll do a quick recap. The
story starts in Oregon, USA, and an accessory import firm called Pacific Basin
Trading Company, aka Pabatco. Through a variety of dramas, Pabatco hooked up
with a Japanese firm called Yamaguchi and ended up producing a range of small-bore
dirt bikes through the late sixties and early seventies.
Model names such as Dirt Squirt, Super Rat, Road Toad and Combat Wombat etched
themselves into motorcycling culture. Sadly, the brand didn't survive the onslaught
of innovative product from companies such as Yamaha.
Our Aces are about three-quarters the size of a 'real' dirt bike, and boast
a feisty 100cc of air-cooled two-stroke single matched to a race-pattern five-speed
gearbox. Just about right for a ten-year-old, and (I'm happy to report) amply
capable of flipping a 105-kilo adult off the back while demonstrating how not
to do a wheelie to Ms A.
Before you launch into a, "That lunatic Guido is off with the gnomes again"
tirade, I should warn you that I'm not Robinson Crusoe on this.
Another sister magazine, Australian Rider, ran an Hodaka history feature a couple
of months ago, which generated more mail than all the other features and issues
put together. For example Grant Morgan, R1100S owner and chief designer at Rip
Curl surfwear, scribbled a note fondly remembering his trip to Tennant Creek
on an Ace. Now there is a sick puppy, and I have evidence that he's one of a
pack!
Something that bears mention is how Ms A and I ended up in Hodaka land. We both
enjoy horse riding and, living in the city, have been forced to face the reality
that buying and maintaining hay-burners is not a realistic option.
The buying bit is cheap enough (about $1500 per nag, including tackle), but
the agistment, vet and farrier bills are the killer. Figure about $300 a month
for two.
Dirt bikes, on the other hand, cost precisely nothing to own when you're not
actually riding them.
What really gets up my coit, though, is the expense of buying a kids bike. About
$800 will get a reasonable trailie for an adult (TS185 or similar), but used
XR100s or similar are very thin on the ground and cost a lot more. A lazy three
grand will get a new one, and you drop a third of the value the minute it's
ridden.
For what you drop on the first ride with a newie, you get a gaggle of Hodakas.
By current standards they have shite suspension and twitchy handling that borders
on the seriously weird. In their defence, they have about three moving parts
and are, by all reports, reliable.
My wife, whose motorcycle buying habits are reflected in the fact that her CBX550
now has 120,000km on the clock, is still digesting the concept I bought four
Hodakas last weekend. When she finally asks the inevitable question ("What
the hell...?"), I have the glib reply at the ready: "It's all the
fault of those motorbike magazines, dear."
(Note: the pic at right links to an American Hodaka parts supplier.)
Guy "Guido" Allen
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