Benelli 250cc 2C, £40, needs slight attention, read the advert. Wow! An Italian masterpiece, must be like a Jota, thought I. It was hidden away on some godforsaken pig farm high up on the Pennines. The smell was something else and owner gave me all the info whilst he led me through what I can only describe as a pig sty to a small wooden shack at the bottom of a field.
After removing various farming implements, the machine was dragged into the sunshine. I was overcome. Was it the methane I had been inhaling or just the thought of getting a machine from Italy? I passed over the fact that the Pennine elements had eaten all the chrome off and it had seized solid. Minor problems, I thought. It was all there with only 8500 miles on the clock.
Being poor I haggled but got nowhere. Ended up with the machine plus one in pieces and a workshop manual, delivered to my door that same day for £40. I sprayed WD40 over it and went to bed cocooned in the knowledge of having joined the elitist Italian stallion brigade.
The full horror unfolded over the next few days. To enable myself to proceed with the surgical disembowelment of the machine, a quick flick through the workshop manual revealed an easy task, it was just a simple two stroke twin, after all, but I was a bit disturbed by all the dirty fingermarks on the gearbox section. Questions stabbed my brain, had it seized up?
I was irritable as I took the drain plug off, oil filled with precious metals; a gold panners dream flowed out. Off with the clutch side, crank end nut lodged in clutch housing, mucho alloy shavings. Heads off, barrels off, half a piston ring missing on one side. Adrenalin pumping, I prepared myself for the carnage as I separated the crankcase halves. My arse dropped off as I looked inside - part of the selector fork missing, every bearing ruined, oval con-rods and a seized crankshaft sitting in rusty water. What a mess. The headache eventually disappeared and my sleeping pattern returned to normal.
A parts catalogue had been given to me so I knew exactly what was missing, most of it was also missing from the spare bike. The response from breakers ranged from, 'A what' to, 'Try the ice cream factory.' Despondent until I eventually tracked down the one specialist in the country who could order parts. Many cycle parts and electrics were similar to other Italian bikes and with a little bit of persuasion could be made to fit. I was surprised at how simple the engine was to work on, aided by decent allen bolts holding everything together.
The rolling chassis was stripped, cleaned, painted and reassembled to as near standard as funds allowed. This was no concours job, I intended using it every day, rain, snow, sun and ice; it would be left outside even in the worst weather. After months of hassles, two tons of Swarfega, hands resembling those of a leper not to mention deep mental scars, it was finished. Petrol on, ignition on, kickstart down and the machine screamed into life at 5000 revs. Within seconds the garage was filled with thick blue smoke. I dived for the ignition switch - nothing happened. Then I tore the plug caps off - silence.
I ran outside to grab some air, shaking. After the smoke dispersed I returned. The throttle cable had been trapped open by the tank and the supposedly duff ignition switch was down to me - it has three positions and in my panic I had wrenched the switch to emergency rather than off.
The ride to the MOT station revealed something very wrong. I felt as if I was riding on a knife edge. The roads had turned to grease, the machine just waiting for the next corner to throw me off. I decided to get off first and check the machine but could find no problems. Marzocchi suspension was supposed to inspire confidence rather than scare the life out of me.
Everything was going fine at the MOT until I was asked to put it on the main stand. The seat flew up as it is hinged at the back and secured at the front with a thin lever. I assumed a failure but he told me to fix it when I got home, and an MOT certificate was offered.
I felt happy at overcoming this obstacle but the handling did not allow that feeling to last for very long. I had visions of broken limbs on the way home. I slowly returned home, wracking my brain for answers. Everything was okay, the MOT tester had said so. After hours of thought I decided it must be the tyres, they looked okay but must've been at least ten years old.
A pair of Michelins went on and the handling was transformed. Sure-footed adequately sums it up and I began to smile again. The next few weeks took care of running in and the engine settled down to a rattly tickover. Waxoyl was brushed over everything metal as a precautionary measure as Joe Rot was rearing his ugly head again.
The performance could be fully exploited once the engine was run in. Power delivery is smooth right into the red section at 7500rpm. There were no power surges or wheels in the air. However, assessing actual speed was impossible because the Veglia speedo had a needle that danced all over the face. I've read 90mph can be achieved which sounds about right.
Motorway riding posed the environmental problem of pollution, destroyer-like smoke screens, a Red Arrow on the highway does not attract many favourable looks. A lean oil mixture does not appeal to my wallet, so I have come to live with it. This is definitely a bike to be used in daylight hours, the 6V lighting is pathetic. Very unnerving at night in the rain, feebly pulsating at tickover and if you rev the bike hard the bulbs blow! Once the indicators were junked there were four less bulbs to blow and less strain on the system but I still keep lots of spares handy.
Fuel consumption varies between 35 and 70mpg. Braking is superb with a doublesided front drum, although I later changed to a single disc front end that was no more powerful and twisted the front forks slightly under heavy braking. An exposed speedo drive is good for a laugh until it seizes up.
The gearbox is a moody sod - some days positive, other days with loads of neutrals. The neutral warning lamp comes on in every gear except for the first two - it's so dim you hardly notice it. As a consolation the clutch is light with no drag but sounds as if it's self destructing when you engage first time in the morning.
The choke levers are mounted on the later type Dellorto carbs and it helps to be double jointed to position your hand between the carbs and pull up the levers. I think I'll go back to the handlebar mounted apparatus, but three cables and a junction box hardly seems worth it.
The roadholding and handling put all these grievances into the shade. The Benelli will run rings round many seventies Jap 250s on the twisty bits. The A57 snake-pass, Strines Road and Woodhead Road between Glossop and Sheffield have enabled me to claim many victims with my number one weapon - the smokescreen. The way the bike can be chucked around amazes me, although obviously I can't get near any of the new generation of strokers, but I have lots of fun trying.
I have heard that someone actually races a 2C, so I suppose they have some more power available if you want to tune them. To the amazement of friends and sceptics I have 25000 miles on the clock now and it's still going strong. The Waxoyl attracts all the dirt around and oozes on hot days.
I've gone through one set of fork seals, two air filters, two chain & sprocket sets, two sets of pads and the rear shoes are on their way out as are the swinging arm bushes. The fork stanchions are pitting but new ones are cheap enough.
The bike is dismissed as crap by almost everyone who looks at it, but it takes all the abuse I dish out and gives me pretty safe fun. I will always remember what one police constable said to me while travelling on the M6 - 'Get that lump of shit off my motorway.'
Russell Occleston
****************************************************
I had started a new job and my finances were looking up slightly. My old XS250 was in need of a bit of loving care and attention so I was on the look out for a newer machine. I was told of a Benelli 250 two stroke twin for sale.....only 18 months out of the showroom, 900 miles on the clock. I knew the owner and for only 400 notes I jumped at the chance.
My first ride on the bike was a revelation. I had been using an old Honda stepthru as transport for a couple of weeks and this tended to exaggerate the Benelli's performance at first. The Benelli accelerated like a scalded cat, although top speed was never certain. Once it reached 85mph the speedo needle did windscreen wiper impressions. The bike has been clocked at 105mph on a few occasions...
The handling was pretty good, although the suspension was a bit on the hard side. Marzzocchi forks up front and a very stiff frame helped. Apart from typical Wop chrome, its appearance was fine. It looked quite neat, in a straightforward way, better than most of the other 250 twins of its period.
Everything went well until the winter started. Every time it rained the tail-light went out until I sealed the unit with silicone. The old style block tread type rear Pirelli didn't like wet roads. I first found this out when the rear wheel tried to overtake the front on a right-hand bend. This left me at ninety degrees to where I should have been. I threw the bike upright and the tyre gripped again.
I went down into a ditch, which was running along the side of road, at about 60mph. The bike ran along the ditch for a short distance before depositing me on my back in the road. I spun around several times on my back whilst the lights went out on the bike. Consequently, when I got up, amazingly unhurt, I had no idea which way I was facing so headed for the nearest hedge. A few moments later some workmates arrived so we were able to extract the Benelli to find the only damage a bent brake pedal.
The front Brembo disc brake also disliked the rain. In the dry it was powerful enough to almost lift the rear wheel when applied harshly but in the wet I had to remember to keep clearing the disc. I had one heart stopping moment, trying to brake from over ninety, and just went sailing on for quite a distance, the water clearing just in time to enable me to slow down for a sharp bend. The disc would also change to a rust colour if the bike was left out overnight.
The first major problem was a disinclination to go into fourth gear, accompanied by a nasty noise - with only 3000 miles on the clock. The dealer traced the fault to a bent selector fork and damaged third and fourth cogs - 150 quid to fix.
If that wasn't bad enough, on the way home, following my father's car which had taken me to pick the bike up, the front light blew. As I was keen to get home it was decided that I would follow the car down the back lanes to avoid the boys in blue. As the pace hotted up I began to drop behind my father, to the extent that once he turned a bend I was plunged into darkness. I hit the only gate for a quarter of a mile either way and discovered that the petrol cap was extremely badly placed.
Back home, we were able to knock the dent out of the mudguard where it hit the horn (mounted just below the headstock). However, the fork tubes were 90 quid for the pair, the inner assembly fifty and then 35 notes to have the wheel rebuilt. I got her mobile again, only to find when I took it to work the woodruff key behind the rotor sheared, meaning it wouldn't start.
The next episode involved the clutch cable. The clutch had always been stiff, so eventually the nipple pulled off the cable. As a new cable would take six weeks to arrive, I decided to have a new inner made up. As the Benelli had become my only transport, I had to ride to work for a few days with no clutch.
Changing gear was no problem, starting off was the fun part. This involved pushing her as fast as I could, putting her into gear, keeping the bike going while it chugged away and then trying to leap on when she hit the power band (an interesting way of wearing your boots out).
One memorable excursion on the Benelli was nearly a year after I'd acquired it. It was a VMCC trail at Pembrey race track. The idea of the event is based upon consistency of lap times and is open only to European machinery. The sun was shining down on a smooth, dry track and the Benelli was right at home, setting quite respectable lap times. It was a most enjoyable day out.
On the way home the air in the front tyre decided to go AWOL. Within a matter of seconds the front tyre had gone flat, my pillion grabbed my shoulders expecting to land on the deck. I tried to lose some of the 40mph without braking, unable to steer. Luckily, nothing was coming the other way and we ended up stopped on the wrong side of the road.
I had a few minor electrical problems with the Benelli later and I needed a more reliable bike for work, so I sold her to a mate. He knew of the problems I had had, but after a test ride he was hooked.....if you want a bike that will cause you to despair, empty your bank account and give you a big grin every time you ride it, buy a Benelli 250 2C.
Mark Whitehouse