Classic Bike Guide - Real rides, real riders

Kawasaki H1 Mach 3

It’s 1968 and the world of motorcycling has been evolving faster than many would have either contemplated or expected. With the advent of Sir Alexander Arnold Constantine Issigonis’ Morris Mini Minor, aka the Austin Seven, which soon becomes known as the Mini, family motoring is now within reach of the people.

Previously families have been crammed in, draped over or sat on the family combo’ while dad pilots the beast but with the advent of BMC’s miniature marvel a trip to the coast in relative comfort is now not only possible it’s viable and very soon will become seen as a right not a privilege. Cars stop being the preserve of the rich and swiftly become an adjunct to modern life.

At the same time as the Mini took off, so the Japanese motorcycle industry ramped up production. The Japanese factories knew and understood that motorcycling was no longer about a basic need for transport, it was all about having fun and excitement. Our late 20th century lifestyle may not have been born in Japan but it was certainly nurtured and partially fed from there. If any one motorcycle could ever be said to have encapsulated the feelings, emotions and ethos of the period it’s the Kawasaki H1 or Mach 3.

Viewed by some as the embodiment of everything that was bad about motorcycling at that time, the machine was essentially hedonism on two wheels. If Honda’s CB750 four was a jaw dropper then it was undoubtedly the Kawasaki that delivered the gob-smacking punch. Quite possibly nothing before or since has ever had the same initial impact. A look at the basic performance figures is the indication as to what the machine really did to the bike market of 1968. At only 499cc the motor delivered a claimed 60bhp, could best 115mph, scream its way down the quarter in under 13s and reach 60mph from a standing start in less than four seconds. It totally eclipsed everything else out there.

Perhaps the most surprising facet of the bike’s performance is its innate simplicity. No dohc or massive capacity, just a normally aspirated two-stroke; the unit was little more than three Bantams notionally nailed together. Less than five years earlier, two-strokes were, in the eyes of the bike buying public, an anachronism, a piston engined cul-de-sac; suitable only for commuters and the like. Selective memory (aka bigotry) is a useful tool when you want to ignore potentially unpleasant but obvious facts.

Britain had successfully produced a pioneering machine from the very early days in the form of the Scott and this lauded machine was very much a stroker. Prior to WWII road racing had been electrified by the performance of the DKW GP racers that caused something of a stir at the TT. The latent potential was there but it wasn’t until DKW’s successors, MZ, got to grips with the subtleties of two-stroke engineering that the true possibilities were realised, assessed, measured and condensed.

Within a year of MZ’s technologies being exported east, via Ernst Degner, the nuances of port timings and expansion chamber design were common knowledge within the Japanese motorcycle community. From there it was a relatively simple step to meld this knowledge with the advanced metallurgical research in which the Oriental motor industry had invested and blend it with their modern production techniques that made western factories look like something out of the dark ages.

The result of this complex equation was to deliver the precision engineering necessary to produce two-strokes capable of delivering power of 100bhp per litre or more and doing so with unstinting reliability. The only other significant variable, and potential Achilles heel, of the stroker was lubrication but with the advent of Posi-Force, Autolube, Injector Lube et al, most of the classic two-stroke oil issues went away.

Kawasaki’s metering system was as good as any the competition’s and it wouldn’t be until the advent of more modern ester chemistry that the remainder of the oleaginous ghosts would finally be laid to rest. With better oil on hand, power outputs climbed, putting further pressure on the oil’s ability to prevent seizures.

If the Mach 3’s three cylinder two-stroke motor was unusual it certainly wasn’t unique. The aforementioned Scott Company had produced a prototype, inline, water-cooled triple and the Excelsior Motorcycle Company had added an extra pot to their two-stroke twin to deliver an air-cooled, three carb’ motor for use in the Berkeley three wheelers of the 50s.

However, no one had ever had the temerity to drop anything like the H1’s mill into a front line machine for the general public. It’s the sheer audacity of Kawasaki that took many by surprise; here was a machine that would slaughter all but the most exotic and expensive four-strokes of the day in a straight line. It didn’t matter a jot that the bike gained a reputation for evil handling; given its potential velocities speed addicts would have forgiven it almost anything including a trip into the hedge bottom.

The dipsomaniacal thirst exhibited by an enthusiastically ridden H1 didn’t mean a thing if the adrenalin levels eclipsed the volumes of hydrocarbon being ushered through the carburettors. If the engine was bold and brassy then the ignition system (on the original Mach 3 at least) was simply space age. In a world where electronics are now the norm it’s easy to scoff but the 1968 bikes had this fitted as standard.

Eschewing the points system which was all that most riders and mechanics had ever known the sparks were sent to the revolutionary surface discharge plugs via capacitor discharge ignition or CDI.

Ignore the fact that the system was dropped for the 1969 model year amid accusations that tv sets across the world were being temporarily fuzzed every time an H1 went hurtling past, this was the future of the internal combustion engine. The Mach 3’s black box was pointed at with scorn and derision. Such systems and manufacturers were pioneering equipment that we now assume will run faultlessly for ever and a day.

The reality of an H1 Mach 3 Kawasaki triple

Approaching an H1 with an attitude that it’s an old bike and you’ll show it who’s boss is a recipe for disaster as before long your body armour will receive a thorough testing. Enter into the relationship with respect and the rider will experience just what the furore was all about. Open the throttle too quickly and dump the clutch and you’ll also see just why so many period magazines featured grainy colour shots of H1s with their front wheels in the air, displaying their lower engine cases.

The weight bias is less than ideal with too much towards the rear. Factor in basic suspension of the over spring and under damped variety and it’s easy to see why the bike became known as a widow maker. Remember at all times that the Japanese were funnelling all their R&D resources into engine and electrics and you’ll understand why the bike behaves as it does. With minimal bracing and lacking today’s countless years of chassis development, it’s evident why some would liken the bike’s behaviour to a drunken cow on roller skates.

Of course the bike is not anywhere near as bad. In fact had it been so nascent American product liability laws and the likes of safety overlord Ralph Nader would have had it legislated off the highways. The seat and riding position of the bike are better than many before or since and around town the bike is actually surprisingly civilised, well at least until you open the taps.

As one period rider pointed out, ‘it’s not often that the motor’s vibrations make themselves felt simply because you are either having too much fun, suffering sensory overload or simply trying to hang on.’ There sound of the bike is like nothing else; a rudimentary air filtration system drags in huge lung-fulls of air with a distinctive rasp and then there’s the unique exhaust note that still sends neck hairs into a state of erection.

Factor in the classic Kawasaki transmission whine and the bike could be a sound track to the final third of the 20th century – for motorcycle enthusiasts at least. The Mach 3’s brakes are nothing to get excited about, the handling is vague under most conditions and it gets through fuel faster than a wino at a free bar. Dispassionately sum up all the negatives and you’d be pushed to find a reason to have ever bought one new, or indeed aspire to ownership now; but that misses the point entirely.

The bike is a grade A, dyed in the wool, no nonsense mould breaker because it didn’t so much draw a line in the sand as dig a trench. The Kawasaki H1 Mach 3 tore up the rule book and re-established bikes as leisure items to entertain, thrill and inspire. Just like Kawasaki’s own advert, machines such as the triple with a ripple were designed to let the good times roll. The subsequent launch of a 750, followed by a 350, a 250 and finally a 400 and those times didn’t so much roll as hurtle.

Words by Steve Cooper   Photographs from Mortons’ Archive.