A new XS650 coming soon? The Yamaha XS-V1 Sakura prototype.

From motorcyclists-online.com:

"It will be officially presented at the Tokyo motorcycle show (from Oct. 27 to Nov. 11). In the "revival" style, Yamaha shows us a cafe racer pôwered by a good looking V-Twin engine, this is a prototype (not a concept) so it can be released soon...

In the image of Yamaha’s first 4-stroke model, the XS-1 (650cc), released in 1970. Its design is full of XS-1 DNA, in its simplicity and functional beauty and finds new refinement in a retro-modern aesthetic. It is a model that proposes a very Yamaha and very Japanese vision of premium motorcycling life, bringing together the unique characteristics of a 1,000cc air-cooled, V-twin model with its strong pulse feeling and easy-going running performance in a finely crafted body that is lightweight and slim and defined by a low seat height."

Cafe Racers of the week: Wild 7.

Antihero Hiba on his 750 Honda

From Atomic avenue:

"Even readers not familiar with manga or anime will immediately notice the retro artwork in Mikiya Mochizuki’s Wild 7—and for good reason. This multi-volume series of collected reprints has material dating back to 1969 (although there’s no word of it on the front or back covers). Instead, it is presented as a modern graphic novel; only a peek at the copyright date reveals its origins, at least in the first book. Released during the biker craze of the late 60s—most likely after the chopper classic “Easy Rider” had hit theaters—Wild 7 is a fast-paced adventure which has the Japanese government hiring a gang of hoodlums, led by Hiba, to defend themselves from any threats to their power. The dated storytelling will remind many anime fans of Speed Racer and other vintage Japanese cartoons."

Bikes are the co-stars in Wild 7

..and from Beyond Japanhero:

"Ever since making its debut in monthly manga magazine “Shonen King” in 1969, Mochizuki Mikiya’s “Wild 7” has wowed its readers with its “Super Action Violence” and gritty cop drama. This violent action manga in which 7 ex-cons were selected to form an elite motorcycle police force. The series was unique (besides for the violence) in which each of the 7 members had a different motorcycle, each specially fitted. Team leader Hiba rides a Honda CB 750, "Hippy" Tom rides a multi-wheeled Harley FL, Oyabun rides a Suzuki Hustler 250, Chasu rides a Suzuki GT 380, Sekai Rides a Harley, Otto rides a Norton Cafe Racer and Ryogoku rides a Kawasaki 500 SS Mach3 equipped with a rocket launcher sidecar.

For 30 years readers have read the exploits of these unconventional motorcycle vigilantes. The stories of the “Wild 7” have been collected into 48 “tankobon” special volumes and has spawned three sequels. It has also been adapted into both a short lived live-action series and two animated series.

Many have likened the story to Robert Aldrich’s “The Dirty Dozen” (MGM, 1967) and its themes have also been incorporated into many other subsequent shows such as “Sukeban Deka” (Toei, 1985).

Predating the American show “A-Team” (NBC/ Stephen J. Cannell Productions, 1983) by almost a decade, the TV Show was considered one of the most gritty and violent shows on Japanese TV at the time and many Japanese PTA organizations rallied against the show.

“Wild 7” is still a fan favorite even today and collections of the original work have also made its way to UK and US audiences in the form of translated manga collections. The original OVA Anime was also released to VHS in both dubbed and subbed forms.

While the basic premise was the same for both the TV show and the Manga, certain elements were changed for dramatic effect. The show involved more espionage and anti-terrorism storylines than vigilante, gritty cop drama. One of the main opponents of the “Wild 7” was the International Criminal Organization known as “Spider” which seemed to resemble SPECTRA from the James Bond movies. Due to the Japanese PTA groups complaints regarding the amount of violence in its stories. “Wild 7” was eventually cancelled in light of all the negative backlash."

loud pipes save lives?..or in this case-strike fear in the heart of organized crime.

The Beeza in the bedroom.

From edmunds.com by Ken Gross.

"Years ago, I lived in sunny Sydney, Australia, where nearly every sparkling morning signaled a motorcycle day. I was content with my trusty old Vincent Rapide and my new 750 SS Ducati, but I still read the weekend cycle classifieds. One Saturday, there was a brief but tempting three-line ad for a BSA Gold Star.

Britain's famous 500cc "Goldie" was one of the most coveted '50s-era racing motorcycles. BSA stood for "Birmingham Small Arms," one of England's top armaments suppliers. When it wasn't waging war, it built sporting motorcycles.

Temperamental, hard to start, difficult to ride well, and wickedly quick, the beautiful "Beeza" was a bike men lusted after, but only a lucky few could have one.

Surely, there couldn't be any harm in looking.

The man who answered the phone said I was his first caller. He directed me to an address in Sefton, a working-class neighborhood in Sydney's Western Suburbs, located a few miles past an urban sprawl of factories and light industry.

The street's brick, semidetached row houses all looked alike. Many numbers were faded or missing, so it took awhile to find number 63. Walking up a neatly tended path, I was excited to see the bike. At the door, John Hearne, a trim-looking man in his 20s, introduced me to his strikingly attractive young wife, Fiona. She smiled shyly, looking strangely pleased to see me. He was cool, almost as if he weren't interested in selling his motorcycle.

Even though there was a garage tucked behind the house, we headed straight inside and into a small back bedroom. I couldn't figure it out. Once inside, I saw why: There, between the double bed and the wall, stood the prettiest Gold Star I'd ever seen. The chrome sparkled, the black enamel shone and the glittering wheels set my heart pounding. I waited, wondering what would happen next.

"We're living here with me mum and dad," John admitted. The grim look on Fiona's face told me all I needed to know about that arrangement. "We're planning to use the money from the sale of the BSA as a down payment for a place of our own," his wife volunteered. Glancing sideways sharply, John frowned at his wife, as though she'd betrayed a confidence.

To break the awkwardness of the moment, I asked if he'd start the bike. He was proud to comply. After maneuvering the immaculate machine through the kitchen to the back porch, he skillfully found the compression point. Tickling the big Amal Grand Prix carburetor until pungent fuel dripped past the float, John retarded the ignition, raised the valve lifter and kicked down smartly on the starting lever. The bike settled into a fast but very even idle with that characteristic spitting sound common to well-tuned BSA singles. He looked up and grinned. I smiled back.

"Nice," I said. "Too right," he replied, using the Aussie vernacular for "You bet."

Fiona left us for a moment. "Look, I never intended to sell this bike," he sighed. "Still don't really want to. I bought it in a basket five years ago. It's taken me all this time to rebuild it. I'll show you the bills, the used bits and all the receipts. Spared no expense, I did."

His words came faster and faster. "Me brother's a Speedway Champion and he helped. You'll see from the logbook," he said, handing over a battered green packet, "I'm the sixth owner. The machine spent most of its life on the Isle of Man. You know, where they run the TT."

I gave the bike a quick going over. It was perfect. The classic 4-gallon BSA Clubman tank had been replaced with a 5-gallon Lyta aluminum racing tank, and an Eddie Dow finned side plate had been added.

There wasn't one burred bolt. The machine looked better than the day it had rolled out of Birmingham in the summer of 1961. Bargaining on the basis of flaws would be a waste of time, an insult to the painstaking work John had done. We both knew it. This motorcycle was very special.

"Are you sure you want to sell it?" I asked, suddenly torn between wanting the motorcycle and hating to see him give up all the work he'd done. "I have to," he replied sadly. "And I've got to get every penny of the asking price." Fiona came back and stood looking anxiously over his shoulder. We were soon joined by her beamy, fierce-looking mother-in-law. She, too, wanted to see how we were getting on.

There was no need to ride the bike. I knew it was right. "I'll give you what you want," I said, "and I'll give you something else. I'll promise if I ever sell this motorcycle, you can have the first chance to buy it back." He was silent for a moment, obviously disappointed that I'd decided so quickly. He sighed, nodding. Fiona squealed and hugged him. The deal was done.

As I wrote the deposit check, my hand trembled. Driving home, I felt strange. The happiness I'd expected to feel in discovering the perfect Gold Star was tempered by what the sale meant to John Hearne. He'd traded one kind of freedom for another. It seemed a curious bargain.

A few days later, John and Fiona appeared at my lock-up garage, the BSA carefully tied down in the bed of his Holden Utility pickup. We unloaded the machine with the reverence military pallbearers show a soldier's coffin. He took a few minutes to show me the starting drill and to say good-bye.

Sitting on the bike for the last time, he caressed the clip-on bars and the fuel tank as a lover would. "It's easy to start," he said, as he demonstrated the complicated drill. When the Goldie fired, he shouted over the loud idle: "Keep the revs between 1,500 and 2,000. There's no way you can get a proper tickover [idle] with a GP carbie. It's geared high, so slip the clutch a little in 1st. With this sprocket, mate, you can top 115."

John smiled bravely as he packed up his truck, but I'm sure I saw the hint of a tear. Fiona stood still, sensitive to the solemnity of the moment. She silently took his hand. When they left, I turned to the bike and tried unsuccessfully for an hour to start it.

I owned the Goldie for three years. That BSA had its own special aura — aloof, elite, forbidding. I never registered it, preferring to start it up only very occasionally and riding it at vintage bike meets. It's odd, I suppose, but I never really felt as if it were truly mine.

After returning to the States, I succumbed to an overwhelming temptation to buy an old Ferrari. To afford it, I had to sell my motorcycles, including a Velocette Venom bought sight unseen from England, along with the Ducati and the Vincent.

Before advertising the "Beeza," I kept my promise to John Hearne, and I sent him a letter.

"If you'd like your Goldie back," I wrote, "you can have it for the price you sold it to me. I'll split the cost of crating and shipping it to Australia. I've hardly used it. I'd like you to have it again."

Two months passed. He didn't reply. I tried phoning unsuccessfully. Finally, I sold the Gold Star to Chris Wimpey, a California photographer.

In the years since, I wondered if John Hearne's new house brought him the satisfaction his classic motorcycle so obviously provided. I wondered why he hadn't responded to my letter. Long after the bike was sold, I still somehow expected to hear from him. But there was no completing the circle.

The bike's new owner created a poster of the BSA. Preserved on a dramatic black background, the Gold Star's cool perfection recaptures the moment I first saw it in John and Fiona Hearne's bedroom.

And that's the way I like to remember it."

The other Cafe Racer: Chicken John's woodgas truck.

From Futureboy:

"Burning Man artist Chicken John announces he's running for Mayor of San Francisco. I would not be the one to draw a connection between the two -- that, dear reader, is all in your mind. Chicken created the Cafe Racer, as seen in this splendid above photo, which is a 1975 GMC woodgas powerd truck that runs entirely on coffee grounds. (It's basically old-school gasification, that carbon-free, trash-destroying technology.

Okay, need your bike picture fix? here is a vintage photo of a woodgas powerd bike built in France during wartime fuel shortages..

The Electric Cafe ( Racer )-in scale form.

From R/CBike.com

"1/6 scale electric motorcycle from Harald Back's collection. The Eleck Rider was manufactured by Kyosho and marketed in Germany in the late 70's by Graupner, a company that supplied nearly every rc motorcycle sold in the German market. The Eleck Rider was powered by a Mabuchi 380 type motor, and the steering operated in a similar fashion to the later Kyosho 1/8 scale motorcycle. The Eleck Rider runs at about 15+ kph with the stock Mabuchi motor. When it was on the market an optional tuning kit was alsp available that included stickier tires and a longer wheelbase. The longer wheelbase permitted the use of a 6 cell battery pack which increased the top speed with a slightly tuned motor to about 30 kph."

Typical- G.I. Joe once again gets all the cool stuff.

Small size, big fun: The Honda Dream 50.

Edited for size from Motorcycle usa.com

"It might be a bit hard to find a class to race Honda's Dream 50. Or is it an old 50? No matter, as Honda expects most Dream 50 owners will use the $5499 bikes for nostalgic or display purchases, not for race duty.

Too bad, as the Dream is is fun to ride even if its limits are a bit lower. Imagine taking a mountain bike with a narrow handlebar and shrinking it down one-third in size and you're pretty close to what a Dream ride feels like. Add in a double-overhead-cam, HRC-built 50cc screamer that revs to 14,500 rpm and you've got one fun mountain bike!

The Dream was built to commemorate Honda's early racing history that began in the 50cc class. The factory RC110 debuted in 1962, and it spawned the commercially available Cub Racing CR110. The single-cylinder CR featured gear-driven double-overhead cams, a dry clutch and an 8-speed gearbox. The new Dream uses lower-tech chains to drive its cams, yet it is able to rev 1000 rpm higher than the 13,500-rpm CR110 and directs power through a 6-speed gearbox.

The Dream has been offered for sale in Japan for several years, and an entire cottage industry has been built around it. HRC has built a huge list of go-fast parts for the Dream since Asian enthusiasts seem willing to throw everything they can get at their racebikes.

But even in stock condition, the Dream impresses with its pure racebike design and trick bits. A lovely oil catch tank created out of aluminum contains crankcase blow-by, and aluminum fenders are used front and rear. Despite the use of a period-spec steel frame, Honda claims the lithe Dream weighs just 157 pounds dry. The Dream is a product of HRC, and they've been kind enough to pre-drill the oil drain bolt to satisfy racing regulations for lockwiring critical fasteners.

You won't find a convenient kickstart lever on the Dream, let alone a wussy electric starter. Cranking it over is via the Hailwood method of bump-starting, usually quite easy on the Dream despite the big 11.7:1 compression ratio. Acceleration is as limp as a scuba diver's Kleenex until the revs climb into the five-digit range. It starts pulling at 12,500 rpm before falling off 2000 revs later. Honda claims 7 horsepower at 13,500 from the 49cc engine, but it sounds like much more when the giant open velocity stack ravenously sucks in air for the open 20mm carb as the 40mm piston goes up and down 240 times each second.

The beauty of racing a tiddler like the Dream is that the rate things happen for the rider is much easier to digest than on a more powerful bike. As a result, extracting the maximum from the bike, and especially the engine, is more gratifying in a way than something like turning the throttle to the stop of a CBR1000RR for a few seconds before having to frantically grab the brakes to scrub off the 100 mph you just piled on.

The Dream handles like nothing else I've ridden. Honda didn't provide rake and trail numbers, but it will suffice to say you've never ridden a motorcycle that turns with less effort. Genuine Showa suspension does a reasonably good job at damping wheel movement, and 2.50-18-inch Bridgestone Battlax BT39SS tires are used at both ends. With the seat's classic bum-stop coming up a few inches shorter than the Dream's 70.5-inch overall length, there's actually enough room for a full-scale adult to fit.

A combination of a strong front disc brake and a super-skinny tire is my excuse for testing the Dream's crash worthiness. Entering one of the corners at Apex and grabbing the brake lever with the finesse of a steroid-injected bodybuilder put me on the ground faster than you could say Ruben Xaus.

Thankfully, damage to our frail little bodies was limited to a bent triple clamp and bruised shoulder, and both of us were back in action in no time. A similar spill in, let's say, Turn 1 at Willow Springs, would've been much more painful to both steel and tissue, underlining the relative safety of mini racing.

The danger levels of mini racing may be reduced from full-sized racing, but not the fun factor. As is the case with racing 50cc dirt bikes, all you need for laugh-out-loud giggles is another rider on a similar bike."

For the truley brave only: The Hello Kitty helmet.

From Scooter Rider Styling

"Not for everyone, but a must for girly style riders: The Hello Kitty helmet. The helmet is available from this Italian Hello Kitty website. It sells for Euros 199 (about $265). I could not verify shipping costs, but there is an English language checkout option, and payment is through PayPal."