It's the late 1970's, and this bloke is trying to insure his bike. When asked what make of machine he wished to insure, he said "A Kawasaki". "Kawasaki's aren't machines" replied the insurer, "They're weapons!"

Where do you start? Well, when I was young, proper bikes were two strokes, so it has to be: -

The H2 was only one of a range of triples at 250, 350, 400 and 500 capacities. The 500 H1(Mach III?) was reputedly the most evil, vicious, bad handling bike produced, but that only seemed to attract riders to it. A bit like the first Fireblades really, and of course the R1 nowadays.

Late versions of the triples, particularly the 250 and 400, were badly hit by emission laws, and were not really competitive with their peers, especially the Yamaha RD models, but they were still bought by riders who wanted something a bit more individual. They were certainly that. I saw a 250 on the road only the other day. Brought a tear to my eye, but that was probably because of the smoke!

Unforgettable, but as I am too chicken to take on a 500 Mach III, my lottery choice is a 750 in traditional 1970's metallic purple. Must try and remember what I did with my flared jeans.

Honda's CB750 may have started the ball rolling for in line fours, but for me the Kawasaki 900 is the most memorable one personally, and the first machine that really deserved the title "Superbike". For once, this commentary is more than a collection of gossip, and facts I remember from old bike mags. This is one bike I have actually ridden, which is a tale in its own right.

A little scene setting is necessary here, so you can understand why it was a memorable experience. Like most of my mates, I got a moped when I was sixteen, the inevitable Yamaha "FS1E "Fizzy". 4 BHP felt exhilarating after pedal power, and I did about 15K miles on the thing over 18 months, so it was well used. But if you had one of the things yourself, you will know how it felt when you rode something bigger for the first time.

The shock of the first 250 I rode is still with me. It was a Suzuki GT250, which went as fast in second as my own bike did flat out, and accelerated at the sort of rate moped riders fantasised about. After riding one, I couldn't really keep the Fizzy for much longer, but the problem was a shortage of cash. Somehow, I acquired my own Suzuki two stroke twin, but it was rather an elderly one. Remember the Suzuki Hustler, said to be the first 100 MPH 250? Well it wasn't one of them; it was its little brother, the T200 Invader. This was in 1978, and the bike was already 6 or 7 years old. It was not pretty, had enormous wide bars, and suspension and drum brakes that didn't work. What it did have was a hell of a lot more power than a Fizzy. I never had a handbook or saw any magazine articles, so I have no idea what the claimed power output was, but I would guess about 20 BHP. The thing is, it also had a power band, with about 0.5 BHP up to 7999 RPM and the 20 coming in at 8000! Great fun. The Fizzy was probably faster away from the lights as the Invader bogged down easily, but once it was revved up I was away!

As we rode away from the school, he turned and explained that it wouldn't do to thrash it until it was warmed up. He sounded quite sensible, right up until the point when he nailed it. I couldn't believe anything would go that fast. We went through a housing estate, peaking at more than 90 he said, and I'm not able to argue otherwise, since I was concentrating on holding on at the time. Just to prove it wasn't a fluke, he did the same going back to school, leaving me pretty speechless for once. As usual, the thing that sticks in my mind is the sound. Like all the early Z1B's and Z900's, this one had four into four pipes, and they really thundered. These days we stick a four into one pipe on for power reasons, and to save weight, but they deliver a fairly anonymous wail most of the time, which is probably why we get so excited by the sound of Ducati's and Triumph's. Listen to a four into four if you ever get a chance.

Of course, after that I had to have a go on the thing by myself, but I had no idea how. Then I met the owner again, at a party one evening, and with even more cheek than usual (probably alcohol fuelled) I just asked for a go. To my surprise he said yes, and we arranged to meet one lunchtime. Good to his word, he turned up, and we went out into the boonies where there was plenty of room. In a village we swapped bikes and set off. For anyone riding a bike that size for the first time, the big worry is not the power, it is the weight you think will be the problem. But like loads of people before me, I soon found out that it was really dead easy to ride, at low speeds at least.

We left the village, went through some bends and on to a clear section about a mile long, with some gentle curves mid way, and 90 degree left and right bends at the far end. At the start of the clear section I rolled open the throttle in top, and the bike just took off. That was the most startling thing about it. I was used to my old Invader, which like I said had damn all bottom end, and I was not long off a Fizzy, so the relentless way the 900 pulled was staggering. Pretty soon I had reached the curves, which seemed a lot tighter than I remembered them to be, but when I managed to glance at the clocks I saw why - I was doing nearly 90, and over 5000 RPM. Then I found out what owners of big bikes already know - Over 5000 is where things really start to light up. I had already thought I was going fast, but with the corners approaching quickly, the surge above 5000 brought out the chicken in me. Wimp!

We went through the bends, pulled over to check the time, and decided to turn back, which is when the fun really started - but not what you are thinking! I had gone through the first left-hand bend, and glanced in the mirror to see my own bike following behind, but going rather wide. It hit the grass verge, went up in the air, and down into the ditch on the other side. I hauled the 900 to a halt, found the sidestand, and ran over to see what the hell had happened. I could hear loud moaning and expected the worst, but it turned out that my friend had got away with it, although he had badly winded himself.

So what had happened to my bike? Believe it or not, it was parked upright at the bottom of the ditch, and it was apparently in one piece. But there was a problem - it was a six-foot ditch with very steep sides. We pulled, we pushed, we tried to take it along the ditch to where it was shallower, we tried to run it up the side under power, but got nowhere. After about ten minutes, a coach driver helped us pull it out. We were a bit quiet about how it got in there in the first place! I tried my bike down the road, and it was fine, if a bit muddy. It was getting late. Sticking to our own bikes we went back as quick as we could, but I still arrived late, and walked in to Chemistry with mud all over my trousers.

I met the 900's owner later on, when he got out of work. He had fully recovered, and was very apologetic. It seemed my bike's complete lack of handling had caught him out, but apart from a bit of extra laundry (!), there was no harm done.

That was my only ride on the 900. I saw it again a few months later at the Albion Fair. It was looking a bit tired, having lost its alternator cover, but it had gained a Turtle Wax tin instead, carefully secured on the end of the crankshaft with a load of gaffer tape. Perhaps my old 200 hadn’t been the problem after all!

So that was it, my first ride on a superbike and, short as it was, it was well worth the grief. I have ridden more powerful bikes since, and ridden faster, but nothing sticks in my memory as much as that ride, which taught me that power was nothing to be worried about, but bad handling and old tyres needed a bit more care!

Like that Jota test I mentioned earlier, I saw a test of a Z900 against a new Zephyr recently, and it was the same tired old slagging off of the older bike. But think on - In twenty years time, testers will be saying the same sort of thing about R1's, Fireblades and the like, wondering how the hell people rode them. We know they are good though, don't we?!

Lottery time? Has to be a four-piper Z900, in that dark met green. Oh, and I'd want to pick up it's little brother the Z650 as well.

The rider looked perfectly normal - Nobody would have guessed he was a lunatic. He had taken the sensible precaution of welding half-inch plate over the ends of the crankshaft, just in case, you understand.Oddly enough, the Z13 went quite well. OK it was never going to win, but on a fast track like Snetterton, where power and top speed were important, it had a good try. Yes it was far too heavy, but it had lots of power, delivered very smoothly, which let the rider get away with anything. Mind you, it might have been a bit different racing it at Cadwell!

Lottery choice is an early one in metallic green. Why on earth do I want one? Well for me, the Z13 marks the end of an era where it had looked like bikes would just get bigger and bigger. Nothing like it was seen again, and while much more powerful and faster bikes came along, they were built to cope with their performance. The Z13 was a hippo on steroids, and I love it for being excessive in every way.

Just as Honda's 900 had earlier introduced new features, the Ninja 900 was full of technology, not all of it new, but brought together effectively for the first time. Monoshock suspension, anti-dive brakes, liquid cooled sixteen-valve engine, with a piggyback alternator to keep it narrow. And it went. 163 mph, it was said, with a very fast quarter mile time. It didn't have a lot of bottom end power, but didn't need it.

This sort of pace had only been possible before from bikes that had been heavily breathed upon, but this was reliable, consistent performance out of the crate. The proddy racers took to it straight away, and it was very successful.

Added to its performance was the simple fact that it looked terrific.

The lottery bike is the one in the picture. An early Ninja, in the original Red/Grey colour scheme.