Sometimes you just have to pull the trigger. Yesterday was one of those days.
Ever since selling my CB750, I’ve been searching for another bike to run alongside my brother’s Triumph Daytona and possibly jam around the state on. After a great deal of research, I knew the Honda 450 was the perfect combination of power and classic styling. Though there isn’t usually room to be picky, I’ve always wanted an orange one.
As I sat in the Journalism school yesterday jabbing at my homework, I took a much needed (sic) Cragislist break. In my usual browsing, a CB450 surfaced. It was a 1974 with 5,550 miles that had been sitting since 1991 — two years before I was born. The price was shockingly good, and the bike was indeed titled. I made some calls. I crunched some numbers. I looked at my stack of schoolwork. Then I discovered it wasn’t going to happen.
I returned to my work and realized if there was a time to act, it was now. After scraping together the funds and fueling up the truck, I made my way to Excelsior Springs, Missouri. The deal was struck and the orange CB was mine.
I’ll have much more on the bike later as I start working on it, but for now I’m stoked that I finally have my CB450.
Here are some shots I took on the way home at the West Central Electrical Cooperative — a dead nuts midcentury setup.
The amber bike
in the golden hour.