Part two of our nostalgic look back at the grey import scene continues with the focus on four-strokes…
The 400 fours

When most of us think back to the days of greys, it’s arguably the 400cc offerings that hit our nostalgia the hardest. The thing is, back then, the 400cc class wasn’t new: most firms had made a 400 twin in the 1970s or earlier, and Honda even had its four-cylinder CB400/4. But the 1980s saw an explosion here, starting with simple 400cc conversions of 600s like the Kawasaki GPZ600R, before more bespoke models were produced. These were the flagships of the mid-sized market, with power on par with the 250 two-strokes (Japanese 250s and 400s were limited to around 60bhp), and while they were a bit heavier than the two-strokes, they were also much more reliable and cheaper to run. You didn’t have to swap spark plugs every 5k and pistons every 15k miles, as was the case with some of the highly-tuned strokers. The 400s also worked pretty well in Europe, with the extra power and size coping better with motorway speeds and higher mileages.
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Three of the models were officially imported: Yamaha’s FZR400RR, the Honda VFR400R and the Kawasaki ZXR400, but there was a much wider choice in the grey market, including the Honda CBR400RR and RVF400 NC35, as well as the Suzuki GSX-R400s.

For many of us, the Honda CBR400RR was the dream 400 machine. Gear-driven cams, FireBlade styling, Asymmetric gull-arm swingarm on the later models – all with that over-the-top 1990s Honda design, engineering and build quality. Later models had power restrictions, but are the best lookers. Though any CBR400RR is a thing of beauty, and getting less and less common. As for the VFR400R NC30, Honda did bring a few of these in, and official UK bikes should be a bit pricier for collectors. The mini-RC30 to the CBR400RR’s mini-Blade, the NC30 had a single-sided swingarm, gear-driven cams, compact V4 engine and sweet handling. They were snapped up by the container load by grey importers and gratefully bought by UK fans looking for exotica on the cheap. Miserable to work on, especially the carbs, but still a very lovely thing. Earlier NC24 and NC21 models much less desirable.

If the VFR was too common for you, the RVF400 was the solution. Also known as an NC35, it was a mini RC45, though it didn’t have the mad PGM-FI fuel injection of the RVF750R. Essentially an uprated VFR, it had USD forks, uprated brakes and the lovely fox-eye fairing lines of the endurance-inspired RVF models. It was only built for a couple of years, and they are extremely rare on the road now.
It’s fair to say that Honda had a good grasp of the limelight, but its rivals weren’t sat by the wayside sulking. They too got in on the gig, bringing many a popular rival to the scene. Kawasaki’s ZXR400 was officially imported from 1992-on, and a strong seller, so most of the ones you see will be UK bikes. Some grey imports of pre-92 models are around, with similar spec and design. Suzuki’s GSX-R400 was never officially brought in, so all are grey imports. Usual GSX-R 80s/90s design, with early bikes from 1984 aping the GSX-R750 style. They featured an alloy cradle or beam frame design, water-cooled 60bhp motor, and SP versions came with extra-trick suspension fitted. They’re unusual, and pricey in good condition now.
On the Yamaha front, we saw the introduction of the FZR400RR. Along with the VFR400 and ZXR400, the FZR400 was officially brought in, and saw action on a lot of UK race circuits – as well as at the TT. Like the NC30, it was a mini version of Yamaha’s 750 superbike: the FZR750R OW01, with high-spec EXUP-equipped motor and track-ready chassis. The first Japanese market models were the FZ750-copy FZ400Rs in 1984, with FZR400 Genesis versions following on in 1986, while the RR arrived in 1991. Just like the FZR250s, the chassis and fairing designs followed the big bikes, so the last 1997 model looked very like a contemporary FZR1000 EXUP.

Big in Japan
We spoke to a Japanese journalist friend – Kentaro ‘Ken’ Sagawa – and asked him how the 250-400cc market came about, and what it was like back then.

“First of all, 1983 was the year when motorcycles sold the most in Japan,” he told us. “I was twenty at the time. The 80s were truly the golden age of the Japanese bike scene. Looking back now, the racer-replica boom of the 1980s and 90s had incredible momentum. GPs and the All-Japan Road Race Championship were on TV, and riders like Freddie Spencer and Wayne Gardner—plus Japan’s own Tadahiko Taira—inspired young people. Manufacturers took the desire to “experience that racing speed on the street!” seriously, and that’s how racer-replicas were born. They looked almost identical to real race bikes, handled sharply, and for high schoolers and people in their early twenties, they were like dream machines.

“The stars of the early boom were the two-stroke 250cc bikes. The first to appear was the RG250 Gamma, followed by models like the NS, RZV, and KR. The strongest of them all was the NSR250, and in the end everyone was riding one. In Tokyo, people were doing ‘stoplight GPs’ late at night (laugh).
“They were light, powerful, and the explosive surge when the engine hit the powerband was full of wild charm—along with the difficulty of mastering them. But as emissions regulations tightened and their extreme characteristics became an issue, the trend gradually shifted toward 4-stroke bikes. Four-strokes were easier to handle, more durable, and with the advancement of electronics, anyone could ride fast.

“The lineup got better every year. The GSX-R250 and FZR250 were great, but the CBR250RR was definitely the most popular—and honestly the fastest. Eventually the boom moved into the 400cc class. At the Suzuka 4-Hour Endurance Race—considered the gateway to becoming a pro—two-stroke 250cc and four-stroke 400cc machines raced together, but the 400s always had the advantage in durability. The full-power 400cc bikes of this era were incredibly fast. Some cornered better than mediocre 750cc machines, earning them the nickname ‘Nana-han Killer’ (750-killer).
“Manufacturers escalated their horsepower wars, releasing full-power models making around 60 hp. For young riders, owning one was a badge of honour, and battling friends on the mountain passes was simply part of the culture. Of course, there was a darker side: accidents caused by excessive speed, illegal modifications, and late-night runs on mountain roads or the expressways around the bay. These became social issues, public criticism grew stronger, and as regulations tightened, the overheated boom gradually cooled down. Still, for those who lived through that era, racer-replicas remain something truly special—practically the embodiment of our youth.”

On the home front
Looking back, you might think that the UK offices of the Japanese firms would be laughing at the prospect of selling grey imports. Loads more hot, trick wheels? That are already in production? We just need to stick them on a boat next to the 600s and 1000s and get selling? Trebles all round!

As ever, it wasn’t quite that simple though. The first problem was that the bikes weren’t designed or homologated for European markets. That meant obvious things like speedometers (for the UK) and headlights (for the rest of Europe) had to be changed (Japan used kilometres and drives on the left-hand side like the UK, of course). But there were also other minor construction and use regulations to conform with: indicator size and placement, parking lights and the like. Bikes are used differently in Europe: there’s more high-speed motorway work, especially on German Autobahns. Markets like the UK are colder and wetter, and we use road salt and grit in the winter much more than other countries, potentially wrecking things like the NSR250R SP’s magnesium wheels. Tyre regs were slightly different, exhausts needed to be officially marked as road legal, Japanese bikes had 112mph speed limiters by law. It was all fixable of course: but took time, effort and money for the big firms to do.
The other complication was the cost. Folk in Japan were buying Honda CBR400RR Gull-Arms because they couldn’t ride a CBR600F or CBR900RR – a full-power bike licence was hard to get. So, they were happy to pay the going rate. Now, if you think about it, making a high-spec 400cc inline-four superbike should cost about the same as making a 600 or a 1000. There are the same number of components, just with smaller holes, and they have to be made to the same (or even greater) precision and quality. That means they will have to carry the same retail price tag on the showroom floor. Who would pay the same money for a 50bhp 400 as they would for a 120bhp 900? No matter how fine the handling and gorgeous the fairing design? And even if they do, you’re maybe losing the sale of a CBR600 or FireBlade to sell a CBR400RR.

The loophole was of course the second-hand market. Grey importers sprang up around the UK and Europe, buying up good-quality, low-mileage used bikes from Japan. At the time, the exchange rate meant the bikes were cheap to buy, and Japan’s strict ‘MOT’ rules meant there were lots of nearly-new bikes which failed the government test on minor issues. They could be picked up at auctions or from big dealers, put in a container, and sold in the UK for attractive yet profitable prices.
We spoke to two senior UK bike industry employees, both of whom were around during the grey import period. One was happy to speak on the record – Dave Hancock, formerly of Honda UK and now bike guru at the Bonhams auction house. The other executive is still employed in the trade, and was happy to speak to us, but wanted to remain anonymous.
Our anonymous insider spoke about how he saw the grey sector back then;
“The grey side of the business introduced the UK to exotic and rare machines which were commonplace in Japan but not common outside Asia, such as a raft of 250cc two- and four-strokes and then 400cc machines. As you know, manufacturers did cherry-pick a few models to bring in, such as the Kawasaki ZXR400 and Honda VFR400R NC30, but by all means not every machine.
“It sounds boring but these bikes were never developed for Europe and things like spare parts, technical manuals and dealer training featured very low on the priority list of either purchaser or distributor. While things were good, they were very good, and some incredible machines were seen on the UK roads. But some of the more unscrupulous dealers were selling stuff that they knew wouldn’t perform well in the UK or that it was nigh-on impossible to get spare parts for.
“If you have your name on the fuel tank of one of those machines, it means that if a customer is deeply unsatisfied, he thinks worse of *you*, not the person that sold them it. Some people made a fortune from selling these grey imports and did their best to offer whatever spare parts or technical support they could, but for every satisfied customer there were stories of people waiting months for spare parts or not being able to fix electrical problems because the machine was never destined for the UK.
“Could the manufacturers have done more? Maybe, but at the time each manufacturer had a pretty comprehensive range all the way from mopeds to superbikes. There was a point where they would have been simply creating internal competition by having very similar bikes next to each other on the showroom floor.”
You probably know Dave Hancock: he was head of sales at Honda UK from the early 1990s, and also worked as a development test rider on machines like the FireBlade, Blackbird, CBR600RR and loads more. He remembers the problems Honda’s UK office faced at the time. “Well, the VFR400 is a good example. I remember when we brought them in, they were £6,500 – I mean, you were looking at not much more than that for an RC30 [a new UK RC30 was £10.5k, around £4k more than an official UK NC30 in 1991]. We had to get them homologated with different headlights, etc, and they just didn’t sell, because we couldn’t bring them in for the sort of money that you would want to buy them.”

But Hancock still appreciates the tech of the greys even now. “We get the odd one or two that comes through Bonhams and I tell you what, they still are futuristic, I look at them and think ‘I’d love one of those’; the VFR400, the NC35 and all that sort of stuff…”
Wouldn’t we all. For those of us that lived through those heady days, it’s easy to understand Dave’s sentiment. The grey import era was something special, exciting and unpredictable. It opened our eyes to a parallel world of motorcycling that otherwise may have never existed. When you stop and think about it, that is truly mind-blowing, along with the fact that we’re unlikely to ever see such a time again. If only, eh…






