When I was growing up in a field in Tyrone with only a broken stick to play with, Japan meant cheap tin toys for Christmas which broke by Boxing Day.
Then the Honda CB750 arrived in 1969 and changed the world, not to mention hammering a very large nail into the coffin of British bike manufacturers already on death’s door thanks to uninspired management and bolshy unions.
I can’t understand why my parents didn’t buy me one for passing my 11-Plus, but at least the Vindec bicycle they did buy me sounded like a CB750 with the help of a clothes peg and a playing card in the spokes.
