Back in the mists of time — 1988, to be exact — my first proper bike was a black Honda MBX50. To a sixteen-year-old me, it was pure magic. That little 50cc two-stroke meant freedom, independence, and a ticket to explore the world beyond the end of my street. Sure, it was a restricted moped, and its performance was more “spirited enthusiasm” than outright speed, but at that age, it felt like a rocket.
When I turned seventeen at the tail end of ’88, the world opened up again. I could now legally ride a 125cc bike with up to 12 horsepower — a huge leap from the MBX50. Funds were tight, as they always are when you’re a teenager, so I started looking for something affordable but exciting. That’s when I discovered the Honda MBX80.
On paper, it shouldn’t have been a contender — just 80cc — but the spec sheet told a different story: liquid cooling, a bikini fairing, a belly pan, and twin front discs. And with a healthy 11 horsepower, it wasn’t far behind the 125s of the day. In my eyes, it was the perfect blend of style, performance, and practicality — all without the wallet-wilting cost of an NS125F.
The hunt began the old-fashioned way, scouring the pages of Auto Trader, Free Ads, and the local paper’s classifieds. Weeks later, I spotted a listing for one near Ringwood. My dad borrowed a flatbed truck, and we set off with excitement and a pocket full of optimism.
The “dealership” turned out to be more of a scrapyard than a showroom — a muddy track leading to a jumble of tired machines and oily parts. But there, among the chaos, stood B784 BFE — gleaming white with red graphics, compact, purposeful, and perfect. I didn’t care where we were or who was selling it — I knew she was mine.
Back home, the MBX looked every bit the miniature superbike I’d imagined. And compared to the 50cc it replaced, it was nothing short of astonishing. Suddenly I had real acceleration, real speed, and that intoxicating freedom that only a motorcycle can give.
A few weeks later, I decided to put it to the test. Our family holiday in Devon was coming up, and I had the bright idea of riding there solo. No motorways for me — I wasn’t licensed for them yet — and I wanted to avoid fast roads like the A38 past Exeter Racecourse, so I carefully plotted a slower, scenic route. Armed with a paper map and a sense of adventure, I set off.
The ride was brilliant — for the most part. Somewhere along the way, the MBX began to lose its edge. It didn’t feel quite right. When my dad joined me a few days later at the caravan, we booked it in at the Honda Centre in Newton Abbot for a check-over. The mechanics quickly found the culprit: a clogged exhaust. A quick de-coke later, and the bike was transformed.
When I fired it up and pulled away from the shop, it was like a different machine. The engine sang through the revs, crisp and eager, and before I knew it, I was redlining in every gear, hitting an indicated 70 mph. It felt unstoppable — this was what two-stroke heaven sounded like.
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| I found this image of B784BFE lurking in the background at the campsite |
That little Honda became the centre of my world. Before long, my mates were all upgrading to 125s — including one with a nearly new Yamaha TZR125. I’ll admit, I was envious at first. But on the road, the MBX80 held its own. Up to around 50 or 55 mph, it could keep pace with the TZR easily. What really surprised everyone was how quick and lively it was off the line — it revved like crazy and launched itself forward with the energy of a much bigger bike. More than a few people with far pricier machines were left red-faced at the lights.
Eventually, as my wallet grew a little fatter and my ambitions a little bigger, I traded up. A blue TZR125 with a full fairing caught my eye at Rob Willsher Motorcycles in Bursledon, and the MBX went in as a part exchange. I can still picture it sitting there as I rode away — the end of an era.
Decades later, curiosity got the better of me. I looked up B784 BFE on the government’s database, and my heart sank — the tax ran out in July 1993. Chances are, she’s long gone, probably broken for parts or left to rust away somewhere.
But if, by some miracle, that little white-and-red MBX80 still exists — tucked away in the corner of a shed or buried under dust in a garage — I’d buy it back in a heartbeat. No matter the condition, I’d love to bring her home. So if you happen to have B784 BFE, please get in touch. Some first loves are worth finding again.
