"Unknown" Review of the 1989 Model

Say the word scooter and what pictures pop into your mind? Cute vehicles endorsed by Grace Jones and Jim McMahon? You’ve seen the Honda commercials then. But what if we told you even as advanced a scooter as the CH250 Elite can trace its roots back to a design that sprang up years before Soichiro built his first complete motorcycle?

Honda’s latest Elite 250, despite its aero-slick bodywork, still embodies most of the precepts found in the paradigmatic 1946 Vespa. Step-through frame, full bodywork with weather protection for the riders legs trailing-link front end, engine hard up against the rear wheel and pivoting with the rear suspension, wheel diameters slightly larger than that of your average cinnamon roll; all present and accounted for. Yes, Honda has put its own stamp on the design, tweaking it with liquid-cooling and an automatic transmission, but the Elite and the Vespa remain as tightly bound as blood relatives.

Forty-three years may separate the two machines, but they remain united in purpose: to provide simple and economical transportation, with function and comfort having priority over sport.

More to the point, perhaps, is how the Elite differs from its closest relative, the ‘88 CH25O. The current model leapt into '89 completely new, boasting a steel-tube frame with longer wheelbase in place of its predecessor’s pressed-steel platform, a near-horizontal cylinder configuration instead of the near-vertical one for the four-stroke single powerplant, and the fuel tank moved from under the seat to beneath the Elite’s floor. New bodywork wraps this all

Why the redesign? Not to lower the Elite’s center of gravity for better handling, though relocating the gas tank and reconfiguring the engine’s top end fortuitously had that result. The main goal was to provide room for the storage compartment under the seat. Such storage is crucial for scooters in Japan’s domestic market; toting a helmet while on foot, or even locking it to the bike, is anathema to Japan’s style-conscious scooter riders. Although not an entirely new idea-some Vespas had tail-section storage compartments-the 32-liter bathtub-shaped bin will hold a full-face helmet, a jacket, and some small items, but the lumpy floor (shrink-wrapped over the engine and rear wheel) limits its usefulness.

Where the ‘89 Elite aligns itself most closely with its predecessor and distances itself from its Italian heritage, is in pure ease of use. This is your basic Polaroid-style transportation; just point and shoot. With its automatic choke, electric starter, centrifugal clutch, and automatic transmission, the Elite is one of the ultimate short-hop machines, and about as easy to use as a light switch. Moreover, with its gear final-drive and maintenance-free ignition and battery, it’s about as involving, too.

Even when you’re riding it, the Elite stays in the background, practically disappearing beneath you. When you’re looking straight ahead, the chin bar of a full-face helmet obscures the instrument panel and bodywork, so that all you can see are the mirrors: The smooth rubber mounted engine seems remote, and makes about as much noise as an asthmatic after a coughing spell.

By motorcycling standards, the Elite feels agonizingly slow - in recent memory only Honda’s NX125 and Yamaha DT L/C take more time to cover the quarter-mile - but by scooter standards the CH is a powerhouse. In traffic, the little Honda is a a tomcat among turkey buzzards, able to outdrag the majority of cars, provided their drivers have the usual a banana-slug reflexes. Power doesn’t seem to flow from the Elite, but rather feels as if it’s being extruded The Salsbury-type V-belt primary drive (using pulleys with movable faces that automatically expand or contract according to engine rpm to multiply torque) contributes to that sensation, as it constantly varies its ratio. Using full throttle from a stop, the transmission holds the Elite in its midrange, providing a sound and feel more akin to that of a motorboat than a motorcycle. Engine pitch no longer varies directly with road speed: “UhhhhhUHHHHHuhnhh,” the Elite hums as it accelerates. It’s said that Italian-teenagers have no use for the V-belt Honda mission, because it precludes popping wheelies.

Where the Elite truly excels is down in trenches of the daily commute, in the urban war zone of inner-city traffic. There, the Honda’s point-and-shoot nature, capable acceleration, quick handling - a scooter trait, virtually assured by stumpy wheelbases and 10-inch wheels - and relatively small size allow it to run through gridlock like a rat in Reeboks.

For ‘89, Honda reduced the bodywork overhang, resulting in a shorter overall length, so the scooter should be able to dart into even tighter places than the '88. Suspension action is somewhat coarse, and both ends bottom frequently with the front worse than the rear. Even so, the CH has more rear wheel travel than Harley-Davidson’s Sportster, and rides better over most surfaces.

While the Elite is at its best on surface streets it’s not confined to them The 244cc four-stroke pumps out enough power to allow a rider to venture onto freeways, even in Los Angeles, where running much below 65 mph is often considered a near-suicidal sign of weakness. The CH easily maintains an indicated 75 mph, although as you might expect there’s not much reserve power at such speeds. And given proper conditions the scooter will fling itself fast enough to run out of numbers on the 80 mph speedometer. At freeway speeds, a scooter’s handling tends to be on the quick side, and the Elite is no exception. It’s grossly unfair, however, to say the Elite is unstable at speed. Rather, it’s overly confident of its clairvoyant abilities, and interprets weight shifts or pressure at the handle bar as an intent to act; motorcyclists have to readjust to this near psychic control sensitivity The Elite does bob about unthreateningly on its suspension at speed, none too surprising given its fairly limp springing and damping. But it’s the front brake that’s the main limiting factor to making haste. The single leading-shoe drum unit barely has sufficient power to howl the tire, and fades enough to let the lever come back to the grip during a single hard stop from 60 mph. The rear drum is far more powerful and fade resistant.

While the Elite’s shortage of stopping power inhibits its ability to make time, there are few limits to its ability to cover distance. The seating position-imagine sitting upright on one of American Standard’s finest-remains comfortable enough to run multiple loads of fuel through the 2.1-gallon fuel cell. The lack of bodywork or frame rails between a rider’s legs permits him to change position far more than on a motorcycle, and the long. broad softly padded saddle cossets his rump. In fact, some touring bikes could aspire to the Elites level of comfort; it brings to mind the story of a British Vespa dealer who toured the Continent on a 150 Clubman in 1958, covering 3620 miles in 10 days.

That’s perhaps the most remarkable thing this Japanese scooter shares with its Italian ancestor: that sense of the possible, the suggestion that you could go around a continent as uneventfully as t you would go around the block. The Elite Honda borrowed the basic design, but kept those same qualities intact, refining them by adding better reliability, and even easier operation.

Such traits make the CH250 a worthy descendant of that first Vespa, and allow it to fulfil the noble goal of providing transportation for the masses - although with a $3298 suggested retail price, the masses better be pretty darn well-heeled. Even so, Honda’s Elite remains an utterly painless solution to the basic human desire to move about, freely and unfettered.