Unbelievable was the condition of the old TS250. Stood in the back of a garage for a decade or two by the look of it. The old dear was clearing out her father's junk and I'd actually turned up to take away some metal work-tables. She didn't mind me taking the old heap and a few boxes of spares off her hands.
Old strokers from the seventies are rare on the ground, these days. The TS might make it as a valuable classic, although at the time the DT Yamahas were regarded as the best trailsters.
The usual fun was had disassembling the bike but none of the chassis components had actually rusted through. The engine had the expected excess of corroded in screws that were only removed with the chisel and hammer routine; only broke one fingernail, this time. Miraculously, there wasn't any rust on the internal components but the crank's seals had perished and the main bearings were on the loose side. New bearings, seals and piston rings were bought mail order, the engine put together using nice, new allen bolts.
The chassis was patched up where necessary but little money spent. Cables, lights, horn and battery were found in the depths of my garage from abandoned bikes and failed projects. For much less than a 100 notes I had yet another motorcycle ready for the highway kicks, joining a pack of similarly cheaply created hacks - XJ550, CB350K4, T500, CB750F1. The TS the only off-roader, not that I was going to go trail riding on it but its specification was ideal for charging through inner London with the odd bit of country lane hustling thrown in for good measure.
First impressions weren't too reassuring. The worn steering head bearings let the bike flop around even at low speeds whilst the motor liked to conk out if the engine was left to slog it out at low revs, even in first and second. Not that the engine was much of a screamer, even after the new rings were bedded in with a good thrashing. Lost power once 65mph was on the clock and didn't get there any faster than a mate's Bantam 175 (admittedly, one of the later ones with a tuned mill).
I played around with various air-cleaners (the OE long disappeared or rotted into nothingness), cleaned out the carb's jets and tried to stop the oil leaks out of the cylinder head/barrel joint. Some internal component, or combination thereof, was just too worn to let the engine rev out in anything approaching a fierce manner. It didn't smoke that heavily, so the crank seals and piston rings/bore were probably okay. Thinking about it, the rotted state of the silencer might've contributed to the poor performance, it certainly made an heavenly wail (if you were into strokers and liked annoying your immediate neighbours).
Within the week I'd had my first accident. I was trying to accelerate through a fast disappearing gap along Edgeware Road, decided I wasn't going to make it and grabbed a dose of the SLS front drum brake. I spent hours filing down the shoes off another bike to get them to fit, the resulting squeaking and poor stopping pretty much what you'd expect. If I'd had an half decent brake I would've avoided the side of the BMW cage. As it was I did a few thousand quids worth of damage to the side of the car, whilst bending a few bits that were sticking out on the TS.
The bike was so far gone that only a devoted owner would've noticed the difference. I told the guy he'd just ruined a rebuilt bike, but he didn't take the hint, demanded insurance details. I made something up on the spur of the moment; I also hadn't bothered with the MOT. Luckily, the numberplate was so mangled by the collision that he had to accept my word for the part of the number he couldn't see, which was of course very silly of him.
After a few kicks, the TS screamed up the road at an unusual velocity - I'd found that taking the revs to maximum in first would then push the mill beyond a power point it wouldn't normally reach in second - and so on up the rev range until it finally ran out of steam at 70mph. A lot of effort and noise for an extra 5mph but interesting when I was in the mood, which luckily for the general populace wasn't that often.
Handling was what you'd expect from a bike with floppy suspension, worn bearings and steering geometry set up for quick off-road turning, not to mention a pair of well shagged knobblies that were almost worn flat. At least it was light enough to tug out of trouble and there was an excess of ground clearance... no real problems in town, it would wallow and twitch when bunged through the faster country lanes but never went into a serious speed weave, probably because serious speed was a concept it couldn't quite manage.
The second accident was a bit more disturbing. The usual deranged cager sweeping out of a side-turning without a thought in the world. My front end mashed into his door and I was thrown over the car. I did a somersault, a whole body shrug and got back on to my feet without any serious injury, although my 34 year old helmet had a bloody great crack in it - better than my head being in the same state.
The cager was swearing his head off, leaping up and down in animal aggression, looking like his eyes wanted to pop out of his head. I surveyed the radically shortened wheelbase, no hope of doing a runner. His car wasn't that badly dented, the Plasticine forks taking most of the impact. I figured that the Bantam front end I had hanging around the garage could be knocked on without much effort, so when the cager calmed down and admitted that he didn't have insurance I was quite happy to accept his offer of 500 quid to fix the Suzuki, which I'd explained was a classic machine worth many thousands of pounds.
I pushed the bike the rest of the way home, laughing at the sudden excess of money to drop my way. The Bantam front end wasn't exactly made for the job but a few spacers had it bolted up and ready to roll. The bike now had a tendency to fall into corners and shake its bars on the exit but it was nothing a bit of imagination and muscle couldn't cope with. Alas, the 500 notes was grabbed by the nearest and dearest, wasted on a new suite for the front room. At least there was a lot of bedroom bliss for a few weeks.
The third accident occurred in Central London. Couldn't blame the TS for that, some cage swiped the back end rather than pulling up for the junction. Swept the bike away from under me and sent me flying into the ped's. Some crazy DR ran over the Suzuki whilst two hundred pound gorillas masquerading as human beings gave me a good kicking for spoiling their day. Both bike and man were bruised and battered but still fully functioning - I got out of there before the cops had a go at me.
The fourth accident was the last straw, the front wheel sliding away without warning on a damp bend. This sent a couple of ped's into screaming sessions, expecting much blood and carnage to result from my sliding down the road, but I went with the flow and was able to leap to my feet in one bound. Unfortunately, the poor old TS was picked up by the front of a Toyota Cruiser, thrown into the air to bounce down on two expensive looking cages and then be finished off by a predatory cabbie, who was doubtless bored out of his head and champing at the bit for some excitement. One glance at the remains told me all I needed to know; off with the hat and jacket, nonchalantly walked away from the mess. Can't say I'm any wiser but I certainly feel a bit older!
Robert Kellin