Honda S90: Lost in the 90s

As our 400F ride progressed Jon inquired more about my wonder years as a plebe motorcyclist, so at one stop I told him that just after I turned 16 my father — at the time a Senior Chief in the U.S. Navy — had been transferred from Yokosuka, Japan, to Long Beach Naval Base in California. Our family made the move back to America the summer of 1965, arriving a week after the school year began. We settled in nearby Westminster where I enrolled at WHS for my junior year in high school.

School studies kept me busy, plus I had signed up for the junior varsity football team. However, being new to the school, my initial social life included low-key weekends, which afforded me plenty of time to ride my new S90 that I had purchased in Japan a few days before shipping it to Long Beach aboard the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Kitty Hawk (Dad had a shipmate on board who babysat the two black S90s belonging to my older brother Alan and me). BTW our S90s cost us $205 each. Two years later we jointly bought new CB77 Superhawks from Roy’s Honda in Santa Ana, receiving a trade-in value of $213.50 each for our well-used S90s. It was the first and last time either of us made a profit from selling a motorcycle …

Weekend warrior

Now, about those low-key weekends: In those days SoCal’s sky was a breeding ground for smog, but every now and then strong Santa Ana Winds blew westward across the desert and into the canyons, eventually sending the soup-like mix back towards the ocean where it dissipated with who knows what. Less smog meant clearer views towards the southeast, one day revealing mountains about 20 miles away that this new SoCal city boy didn’t even know existed. I had to check them out, and so on a quiet Saturday morning I harnessed all of my S90’s eight horses before heading south by east from our home in Westminster, seeking those “mountains.” Well, actually they were foothills, known as Loma Ridge, but they eventually melded into the nearby Santa Ana Mountains that constituted the Orange County portion of Cleveland National Forest. Regardless, my youthful wanderlust took me up and over those foothills where I discovered a whole new world.

My travels initially brought me to tiny El Toro Speedway, a small oval dirt track in what is today Lake Forest. I paused to examine it, little knowing that two years later Orange County International Raceway would pop up about a mile away. OCIR is where I entered my first road race in November 1968.

I continued my exploratory ride down the road where I realized the source behind Orange County’s name. Mile after mile of orange groves pushing right up to the narrow two-lane road emitted the sweet fragrance of fresh orange blossoms. My Saturday outing also routed me onto El Toro Boulevard, at the time a lonely two-lane road along the fringes of OC’s populace. There I spotted a white one-room school house and an equally small white chapel (they’re now preserved in El Toro’s historic park). I didn’t know it at the time, but at one point in my ride I rode past the future site of the first house I’d ever own.

Eventually the road took me to the mouth of Santiago Canyon and to a quiet old roadhouse known as Cook’s Corner (today every OC biker’s Sunday destination). At that point El Toro Road morphed into Santiago Canyon Road, which served as the main feed into tributary canyons such as Silverado, Modjeska, Black Star, Live Oak and Trabuco canyons.

My favorite memory of those rides occurred when I “raced” through the village portion of Silverado Canyon for the first time, the old houses standing inches from the road’s shoulder. Silverado itself was a boom-to-bust mining town established during the late 19th Century, and several of the homes had belonged to original residents. To appreciate my ride through the town, I’ll preface the episode: When the Gingerelli family returned from Japan, the Navy transported the five of us and other returning families aboard an MSTS (Military Sea Transport Service) ocean liner, taking two weeks to cross the Pacific Ocean. To prepare for the long journey I bought my first-ever issue of Cycle World (August 1965 and I still have that same copy!). The issue included Isle of Man TT race coverage with accompanying photos of racers at speed through the towns and villages that mark the race course.

Now, back to Silverado Canyon, circa 1965, where, with breakneck speeds of 45, even 46mph, I whisk past houses an arm’s length away: To this day Silverado remains a rural community where many of the older houses press right up to the road’s edge, much like the Isle of Man TT! It didn’t matter that my 8 horsepower bike struggled on the uphill stretches, it felt all the world as though I was experiencing what Mike Hailwood, Jim Redman and other Honda greats lived (and sometimes died) for.

I could fill a book with other experiences from those days, (especially if we factor in the Superhawk!) but hopefully you get the picture. Now it’s time to fast forward this narrative 58 years back to the future so I can introduce five additional players who joined Jon and me for a return ride to Silverado, this time with me riding one of Jon’s refurbished S90s. Of course I chose the black bike from his stable, a 1969 model; he rode his 1966 red rider.

Now and then

When Jon and I planned our “Lost in the 90s Ride,” we agreed it best to share the experience with some of our classic-bike friends (who also happen to be VJMC members). Jon invited a former American Honda employee, Perry Edwards, also retired and who had recently finished a restoration of his white 1966 S90, and another old-bike restoration specialist, Owen Bishop, who brought his fresh 1968 Yamaha AS1C, a 100cc twin (both of their bikes are rolling jewels!). For the record Owen owns Moto41, a restoration shop in Santa Ana, California, and Perry restores select old-bike projects from his home garage in nearby Garden Grove under the name PDI Restorations (pdi.restorations@gmail.com).

My contingent included my older brother, Alan, who, when we were teenagers, had taught me how to ride a motorcycle. We were joined by our good friend (and like a brother) John Lassak, an accomplished road racer himself who also had tuned every 2-stroke race bike that Alan and I ever competed on. In later years — the 1980s through the mid 2000s — John tuned for many top AMA Expert road racers including Kenny Roberts Jr., Rich Oliver, Alan Carter, Miguel Du Hamel, among others, finally ending his impressive race-tuning days with the late, great Randy Renfrow. Alan rode my 1966 Honda CL160 for this ride and John brought his recently restored 1970 Yamaha R5. (If you ever get to meet him, ask about his story behind the bike’s purple paint.)

There was one more player in our lineup, my older son Kyle, who also was a wild card entry. Now in his thirties, he only recently had begun riding motorcycles, his enthusiasm focused on newer Harleys (mustering in with a late-model Sportster Iron 883 for this outing) rather than classic old bikes. But we didn’t hold that against him, although we kindly pointed him to the back of the pack!

Before saddling up, Kyle took a group photo of our classic bike group, our bikes and bodies posed to mimic a similar snapshot from the summer of 1966 prior to a ride that had taken my friends and me on a similar route. The purpose of that 1966 outing was to give three of our group members — the Keys brothers — a chance to break-in their new bikes that they had recently shipped from Japan. Other than John Lassak (on the red Yamaha 305), everyone in that group were former Navy Brats who had lived in Japan and attended Yokohama High School (forever known as Yo-Hi). Moreover, all six of us had been introduced to motorcycling while living in Japan (there’s an interesting story on how Bob Keys, straddling the blue Yamaha 305, and I learned about, as Ron Lawson put it, “the dark and mysterious ways of a manual clutch”) during those formative days. Proper break-in for the Keys’ bikes was paramount that day, so we mapped an all-day ride for George’s Honda 450 (a bike we dubbed “Earthquake”), Jim’s red Suzuki X6 (with clip-on handlebars!), and Bob’s blue 305 (with straight handlebars). Mike Kelly joined with his well-used, fender-less CB160, and rounding out the mix was brother Alan (extreme left in photo) and me (next to him) on our “high-mileage” S90s.

Honda S90: Not too big, not too little … just right!

The story is well told about Honda’s early days of exporting motorcycles to the American market. The star product of that era was Honda’s then-new C110 Super Cub, a step-through design powered by a 50cc OHV 4-stroke engine producing 4.5 horsepower. It was enough to command annual sales in the tens of thousands during its initial years in America; sales figures unheard of in the motorcycle industry at the time.

But, Americans being Americans, we wanted more — horsepower, that is. Oh, for sure Honda also offered 250cc and 305cc models with performance comparable to conventional motorcycles of the time. But there remained a missing link in the lineup — a transition model powered by a mid-displacement engine mixed with styling and performance that Americans longed for, regardless of the demographic target (although Honda did offer uninspiring Benly 125 and 150 models).

To the rescue came Honda Motor Company’s legion of engineers, answering the call in 1963 with a 90cc OHV 4-stroke engine nestled into an orthodox pressed-steel frame. That model was the C200 (sometimes known as CA200). Even though the C200’s engine was essentially a new unit, it favored established engine technology from the Super Cub.

But Honda’s majordomo, Mr. Soichiro Honda, wanted a design that was more advanced and more desirable, a bike with a more refined mid-size single-cylinder package. His engineers delivered again, this time with an all-new, all-alloy 90cc engine with a cast-iron cylinder liner packing an over-square bore and stroke for high rpm, and beefed up 8.2:1 compression ratio to hasten throttle response. The wet-sump engine’s crankshaft was set on two large main ball bearings, plus a big-end caged roller bearing.

A new carburetor and alloy cylinder head with overhead camshaft assured snappy performance, with a claimed 8 horsepower at 9,500rpm, and 4.7lb/ft of torque at 8,500rpm. An integral 4-speed transmission assured that power transferred to the rear wheel. The new bike was christened the S90, “S” indicating Sport.

The S90 boasted other features found on full-size motorcycles. For instance, its front wheel carried a hydraulic telescopic fork for suspension. Forks on previous small-bore Hondas, including the C200, featured the economical leading-link style that relied on mechanical damping for compression and rebound. Also, the S90’s fork wore sporty rubber gators that helped seal out dust to the fork sliders.

Clearly, the new mid-size S90 boasted features found on full-size models. In addition the 18-inch wheels front and rear were wrapped with fenders made of metal, not plastic as found on C110 and C200 models. The front fender, especially, evoked styling similar to the CB77 Superhawk. In addition the fenders were painted using the same metallic silver as on the Superhawk and the new CB450 that hit the market at about that same time. Later S90s, though, checked in with chrome fenders, visually moving the bike from its classic 1960s livery to trends that became common in the 1970s.

Regardless, the S90 came across looking more like a full-size motorcycle than a half-pint motorbike. Even its pressed-steel frame was fashioned to give the bike a “see-through” feature similar to that of bigger motorcycles (Triumph twins, anyone?). The S90’s seat was simple yet contemporary, and the gas tank’s sexy silhouette and chromed panels gave the bike its unique profile.

Did the S90 live up to its assigned task, that of offering bigger-bike performance at an affordable price? Based on claimed top speed, yes. Honda advertised 65mph, and according to Cycle World magazine’s period report, “we wound it up to 62mph and held it there until it had pretty well proved the 65mph top speed claimed for it.” And as mentioned in the accompanying Lost in the 90s article, I coaxed my S90 to an indicated 65mph on its speedometer.

Both single-leading-shoe drum brakes were responsive and up to the task for a 65mph motorcycle, too. Ride and handling suggested overtones of “big bike” performance, and steer-in for turns delivered positive feedback no matter what speed you were traveling.

The S90 remained in production from 1964-1969, with, according to American Honda records, total U.S. sales reaching 92,793 units. The top sales year was 1965 with 34,279 bikes sold. Rightfully, surviving S90s are highly sought by collectors today. The three restored S90s featured here belong to Jon Seidel (1969 black, 1966 red), and Perry Edwards (1966 white).

Honda’s S90 may not have been revolutionary, but for its time it certainly was contradictory, proving that a small-bore motorcycle didn’t necessarily have to look nor perform like … a small-bore motorcycle. — Dain Gingerelli

The future is now

I can honestly say that, as a grown man, I enjoyed riding Jon’s 1966 S90 in 2023 as much as I had enjoyed the ride on my 1965 S90 when I was an eager teenager plying Orange County’s backroads. Back in 1965 my S90’s eight horses proved enough to scratch my itch to ride … anywhere and anytime. I rode it to school each day, and the little Honda served as my wheels for the 10-mile ride to and from the Gulf gas station on the corner of Beach and Adams roads in Huntington Beach where Alan, John and I worked as gas pump jocks. I’d even ride the S90 to parts of Orange County that, otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have seen or even considered.

But the real fun and excitement — then and now — is found in riding those backroads, no matter how fast — or slow — the bike took me. By the time I snicked Jon’s S90 into fourth gear those and other memory flashes began to strike me like sizzling lightning bolts. Curiously, it was like coming home again. Even my son Kyle realized how much fun we “old guys” were having on our old bikes during the Lost in the 90s Ride.

No doubt, memories are made in the saddle, but they’re shared later when kickstands are down and our enthusiasm is up. That’s when we address more than the road we just rode on. We recall good and bad snippets of our lives on two wheels, most of the tales focusing on the road, the track or over natural terrain. For instance, Perry Edwards, now 66 years young, talks with pride about some of the bikes he’s rechristened in his garage, and to this day, he’s still tickled that while preparing for his turn to climb the steep hill at De Anza Cycle Park’s 1977 World Championship Hill Climb, the late Peter Starr and his Take It To The Limit film crew showed up. As Perry tells the story, “I remember the cameraman sticking the camera lens in my face as I was on the line readying for my run up the hill.” An even bigger surprise awaited him when the film premiered; that footage made the final cut, and now Perry Edwards is forever a movie star, shining bright in Starr’s cult movie!

Owen Bishop, a 58-year-young expatriated Englishman, talks as passionately about some of the old bikes his shop has restored as he does about any of the many late-model Superbikes he’s owned. But Owen’s favorite Superbike stories center around the times he spent traveling across America with, as he puts it, “my good buddy Neil Hodgson when he raced for Ducati and Honda in the AMA Superbike Championship.” And don’t even get Owen started about his early days riding his Yamaha FS1E (Fizzy), a British-born Yamaha model marketed especially for 16-year-old riders! “My first road-going motorcycle!” touts Owen. His bike for this ride: a freshly restored 1968 Yamaha’s 100cc twin cylinder YA1C.

No surprise, Jon Seidel has owned more than two dozen Hondas. And although he never raced, he’ll tell you, “The way we used to ‘ride’ around the Texas Hill Country seemed like a race. And even before starting my career with American Honda in 1990, I was a dedicated enthusiast attending races all over the U.S.”

Jon might have inadvertently seen John Lassak at some of those AMA National races, too. As noted, he tuned for many great riders, but tops on his list is Randy Renfrow who not only rode fast and won several AMA National Championships, but was a true Virginia gentleman who treated John and his crew well. “We were like family,” John will tell you, and for good reason. Randy’s brother Shawn helped John in the pits.

My brother and me? Well, we owe John, — “June Bug” as his West Virginia family calls him — all of our race trophies. I’m also proud that I was the first rider to compete on a bike with port work by him. He perked up my 1967 Suzuki X-5 Invader’s engine by carving a “worm port” in its cylinder walls, essentially creating a 5-port modification that gave me the speed needed to become a winner back in 1969. A few years later Alan achieved similar success thanks to John, and to this day the three of us are like brothers.

And about the rookie in our ride, my son: Shortly after the 90s ride he introduced a friend to motorcycling, allowing him a solo lap around a parking lot. And, you guessed, his friend dropped the Sportster, damaging much of its left side. Lesson learned, and Kyle set about repairing the damaged XL. In the end, he learned about his bike’s mechanical complexities, and it proved helpful in making him a better bike owner and rider. Hopefully, too, an even safer rider.

So, was this Lost in the 90s Ride merely a chance to dust off some old bikes and old riding gear? Yes and no. Truth is, we all gained something from that afternoon ride. Foremost, we confirmed again that the journey always trumps the destination, and this journey 58 years and countless miles into the past gave us a chance to reflect on our personal journeys through the years. And with each journey the common denominator remains the same: none of us can recite what the future holds, but nobody can deny our past experiences, either. And with that I’ll conclude this magazine article by lifting the very last sentence from my very first motorcycle magazine column to do so. I had penned that column for the October 1971 issue of Hot Bike magazine, which had just hired me after I completed my college internship with them. The editor suggested I write something that would introduce me to the readers, so being the new guy on the masthead I zeroed in on my rookie days as a motorcyclist, describing my early wonders and blunders. I concluded with this sentence (and please forgive the clunky word choice by this then-neophyte writer): “The beginning days of motorcycling can never be relived, just remembered.”

And with that I thank Jon, Perry, Owen, Alan, John and Kyle for joining me on this Lost in the 90s Ride. MC