In the beginning …

...back then, there was no KJMV at all. That was 40 years ago.

Before the founding of the Classic Japanese Motorcycle Association, there were no classic Japanese motorcycles. There were new, usually well-financed Japanese motorcycles. More recent used models and "old junk."

There were Japanese motorcycles from before 1986 that, going back to the 1960s, still held some value. But as they approached the 1960s, their value dropped to hundreds of guilders, and fifty guilders for running examples.

Even before I had my motorcycle license, I rode motorcycles from the lower end of the market. My buying criteria was: "Does it work?"

My first Japanese bike was a 1966 C77 (!) that cost one hundred and fifty guilders. It was neatly fitted with a CB77 or CB72 fork, and I was thrilled with it.

Around that time, I started specifically looking for old Japanese things. After all, my motorcycle dreams had been sparked by the C77/72 belonging to the (step)father of a primary school friend of mine. So, there had to be some kind of destiny.

I was in heaven. What an offer! What low prices! Uninhibited and cheerful, I drove to Rotterdam in my then-employer's Peugeot 504 Estate. Twice. Because there lived a practically ex-bachelor in an apartment full of NOS Honda junk. The man had run into a boyfriend, and the new wife-to-be had demanded that all the engine junk be thrown away. A Peugeot 504 estate car has enormous space. And the Peugeot, ignoring the Max (maximum payload), was packed to the roof. And twice, with diesel at the boss's expense. That wasn't a problem at all back then. That's how I netted two and a half CB77s plus hundreds of pistons, cylinders, clutches... For six hundred guilders. With a bit of wheeling and dealing, quite a few items went to amateur racers and other vague enthusiasts like me. With the winnings, I bought a near-as-new CB750 K2 with only about 8000 km on the odometer. And I racked up some serious miles. This came at the expense of my friendships with friends on British and Italian bikes. Friendly people. But their bikes broke down too often on the road. The sale of the remaining parts lasted for years and ensured that my new passion didn't eat into my income. I even paid for three Black Bombers in parts out of my back pocket, even though it amounted to eight hundred guilders.

Nearly undesirable Japanese came and went, like a T500 tuned for sprints. Among the parts that came with it was a license plate. The Suzuki was put back in civilian gear. But participating in traffic with a hyper-tuned sprint engine proved unsuccessful. Despite the fact that I had and have zero knowledge of electrics, I bought a beautiful 1972 XS650. Hours and hours had already been spent trying to solve the "sometimes-it/sometimes-it doesn't start" problem. To no avail. The owner was fed up with it. The XS was sold for pocket change. While searching rather aimlessly for the problem, I leaned against the engine with one hand. The twin fired immediately. I happily removed my hand. The engine wouldn't start anymore... I got the feeling I'd accidentally grabbed something. Long story short: a solder point in the wiring harness had come loose. By moving the handlebars, the slight movement in the wiring harness would cause the thing to make or break contact. After removing the insulation, the problem became apparent. A quick touch with the soldering iron fixed it. I'm so happy!

Meanwhile, through various connections, there had been some vague contact with fellow sufferers. Curious whether there were more of them, they led to advertisements in the Motor Weekblad and the free advertising newspaper Via Via.

This led to pleasant contacts with a friendly mix of fellow enthusiasts – owners of what we had already tentatively begun to call "classic Japanese motorcycles." There were those with a keen sense of history. There were those with a technical bent. There were those who wanted to ride cheaply. It was a pleasantly mixed bunch.

That motley crew gathered for the founding of the KJMV at Café Geesbergen aan de Vecht. I hadn't been there in at least ten years. The co-owner at the time was an unrequited childhood sweetheart of mine. In the years between my initial crush and the present, she had become quite grumpy. A small voice inside me whispered after all these years: "You should have come with me." Fortunately, love had a happy ending for me. But not with the woman in question.

Anyway, the KJMV was founded. Old Japanese motorcycles gained their classic status. The club grew, and the quality of the motorcycles within it grew along with it. Meanwhile, I had made a slight error in judgment. My partner was pregnant, and in connection with the family expansion, I had bought a sidecar. A T500 with a Velorex cargo box, a two-into-one Reimo expansion exhaust, and broomstick handlebars. I was proud of my foresight. But my partner gave her absolute no-no after a ride in the cargo box. It was too noisy. That T500 was, at the time, almost the only classic Japanese motorcycle I had riding. The once-famous Promotor motorcycle, a Yamaha XS650, was also in the garage. With the upcoming family expansion, the T500 and the XS were traded in at Gefra in Halle for a near-as-yet-unspecified Ural tricycle belonging to a 65-year-old father with a three-year-old son. His partner objected to the sidecar. Not because of the noise in the box, but because she had now arranged the second clutch – her master plan – and she wanted to keep a tight rein on the relationship.

Meanwhile, "we" received more information about our motorcycles. Parts availability improved (somewhat). Misha Buttinger took the first steps on what would become CMSNL. And the prices of parts and motorcycles rose. The appreciation for factory originality increased significantly. This was made possible by Misha, who became "Mike" internationally and bought NOS stock worldwide, having previously unavailable items made new, so that the term "Chinese takeout" acquired a much higher emotional charge.

For the past 30+ years, I've continued riding ex-Soviet three-wheelers. Urals, by the way, come from Russia. Dneprs from Ukraine. As for two-wheelers, I stuck with the big Moto Guzzis around that time. So, just like in my early days, I've continued to trade in the budget segment.

Meanwhile, negotiations are underway to purchase an early CB350 twin. But oh my! Those old Japanese bikes have gotten so expensive!

The Seeley Honda is now for sale with German papers at Loods 8 in Arnhem.

Want to know more? Join the KJMV.