My very first MZ 250 was an X reg job that bounced around like a headless chicken and accelerated like a slaughtered C50. It looked like it was falling apart, blitzed by enough rust to hide the original paint colour. The greatest surprise wasn't that it had a new MOT but that it made the journey home without failing and didn't spit me off at any point in the adventure. What's known as taking motorcycling back to its most basic roots.
The MZ had only cost fifty quid so it seemed worthwhile to put in a bit of effort. Perhaps the most astonishing bit about the chassis was that once the surface rust was wire-brushed off, there was solid metal underneath. My previous hack was an early seventies Honda that every time I attacked the rust revealed itself to be rusting from the inside out, way beyond any help. A few bits of orange paint remained on the MZ, might've been the original colour or undercoat. The logbook suggested blue but I only had brown in the garage, which I figured was near enough for an old hack.
The engine alloy was just as shocking, shining up nicely after a week's work with the Solvol (I'm sure it's not as strong as before). Apart from the density of the smokescreen, which I reassured myself was normal from observation of other MZs, there didn't appear to be anything wrong with the motor. The bike was put to good use in the daily commute.
MZs are supposed to be fine handling machines. A combination of usefully damped suspension, strong frame, conservative geometry and light weight. My bike veered off to the left on acceleration and the right when slowing down. Bounced almost uncontrollably from bump to bump and went into a near suicidal fit whenever I banked over.
The first time I had to brake in a hurry the main cause of the handling deficiencies was pretty obvious. Judging by the way the bike carried on straightforward regardless, some previous owner had ridden off the road into something solid such as a tree or stone wall. I knew it had to be something hefty as it soon became evident that the MZ was a rugged machine. The lack of braking from the SLS drum meant I'd been forced to ride straight into the side of a Ford Onion. The car's panel so perfectly absorbed the momentum of the bike that there wasn't even a dent in the front wheel.
There are various strange cures for the front drum, some arcane, others offering a marginal improvement in retardation. By far the best is fitting a Brembo front end from an ETZ. In search of one of these the next day, I ended up buying a complete bike with a seized gearbox for £75. This was to become my second MZ a year later, but initially I was much relieved by the improved braking.
The handling was still like a starved pig taunted with food, but the speeds that were possible on the 65000 mile motor made such indiscretions fun rather than mortally wounding. With the strong rightwards movement under the effect of the single front disc, that could make the MZ do involuntary stoppies, I ended up with a muscle building fight with the bars to keep us within a close approximation of the straight and narrow.
Top speed worked out at a strained 60mph. In theory, the older TS250s are a touch faster than the ETZ, but in reality their possible 85mph is submerged beneath worn out components, and, like on my own machine, enough smoke when making an attempt at really caning the motor, to cover our once green and pleasant land in an excess of smog. I was tempted to sell the bike to a film company for its special effects department!
Despite its knackered nature I obtained almost a year's reliable service until the gearbox's bearings started cracking up. This might've been brought on by the strain from placing the carb needle in a higher position and the resulting increase in acceleration.
As well as the gearbox disintegrating I'd also been fighting the 6V electrics. The infamous control box had a mind of its own, either reducing the volts so that the lights were a dull glimmer and the engine was threatening to cut out, or putting about 24 volts through the system, popping every bulb on the bike. I think if the gearbox hadn't gone then the whole thing would've gone up in flames.
Whilst enjoying the first bike I'd rebuilt the ETZ's gearbox. New British bearings, good shafts, selectors and cogs. It all felt a little stiff but I reassured myself that it only needed a bit of running in. After fixing the front end on, swapping over the tax disc and numberplate with the other bike, I was ready for the test ride.
The engine is hinged at the back and hung on a shock absorber. It shakes around a bit, looks just like it's trying to get adrift from the frame. As a result of this design, or perhaps the prodigious wear and tear it'd taken, there was a lot of judder at low revs and a clutch that sounded and felt like a gun going off. The first time, I jumped in the seat and came to a halt after a back injuring lurch.
Someone's idea of a joke was fitting a badly worn Pneumat to the back wheel. People reckon that recent ones have undergone a drastic improvement in grip. The way the tyre slid over a dry, smooth road was so violent that they would have to do very little to offer an improvement. I'd already read too many tales of wet weather insanity to even think about trying it out under those conditions. A set of used Michelins was exchanged with the breaker for the other MZ's bent frame, naff forks and almost rusted through petrol tank.
With half decent tyres, the MZ lived up to its handling reputation. Angles of lean were almost frightening, the riding position rivalled boxer BMWs and she tracked nicely on whatever line I wanted to take. There was an initial need to carry on in a straight line when I wanted to corner but the massive muscles I'd developed from continually fighting the bars for the previous year soon overcame that.
Top speed had improved to 65mph (new ones should crack 80mph) but fuel was down to 45mpg from 55mpg. A newish carb improved economy to 50mpg, whilst new ETZs will do over 60mpg. The acceleration was, if anything, even slower. I often ended up wishing for a bit more go when I failed to slice through gaps in the time I'd foolishly allowed. That fierce Brembo disc meant I could do a good cut and thrust routine to get myself out of trouble.
As well as the disc, the ETZ veered towards the modern world with a separate lubrication system and 12 volt electrics. There was a lot less smoke but a greater tendency to oil up the spark plug in town. The engine would cough, threaten to die then surge forward when least expected. I almost took my foot off on one occasion when we leapt into a spot a car hadn't expected us to take. His horn drowned out the pathetic Communist imitation but at least the Halogen front light was well up to country road cavorting.
Having owned only hacks of 250cc and less I can quite happily say that the ETZ 250 was the best bike I'd ever ridden! That might not be so much a compliment on the MZ's ability as a comment on the terrible steeds owned, but I can't help but think that a machine, way past it's prime, that did 23000 miles of fun filled riding in less than 10 months is worthy of note and even praise.
I say fun because even though it was slow, its handling, braking and comfort were redolent of a much more sophisticated motorcycle and even when it broke down it was a relatively simple problem to fix. Points going out of tune was the most common complaint, soon eradicated with electronic ignition.
The gearbox serves as a good apprenticeship for anyone saving up to buy an old boxer and as an anti-theft device in the unlikely event that anyone would be blind, stupid and just plain desperate enough to want to joy ride. Luckily, the first MZ had been so bad that it took me almost the whole year to master it and by the time I was riding the ETZ all I had to bear was the grinding, clunking noises and short-lived footwear.
Starting was another matter, often needing a desperate push down the road with myself swearing my head off at the top of my voice and the silencer popping away for a good five minutes until she finally caught. All good, clean fun I kept trying to delude myself. If I was feeling really lazy I'd fit a new spark plug when the old dear would spit into life second kick of the stupidly positioned kickstart.
For some reason I never came across any cheap ETZ250s, almost received what I'd paid for it when the motor seized up so solidly that I could not separate piston from barrel. I'd bought a dead MZ 150, which whilst as ugly as a CX500 after an accident had potential as it was dead easy to fit the learner legal 125cc engine and sell the bike off at a nice profit.
As my own needs for wheels suddenly impinged, I thought I'd take a look at the motor before I did anything silly like buy one of the new MZs. Turned out the problem was broken points. The bike had only cost £25, so once that was fixed and it fired up after a mere 20 kicks, it must've been the bargain of the year. I'd almost thought about offering to take it off the guy's hands for free, but he was bigger than me.
The 150 was half a decade old but had only 11000 miles on the clock. Despite its smaller capacity it turned out to run both faster and quicker than the well worn 250s. Top speed was 72mph in the right conditions (a long hill) but fuel went west in a relatively frugal manner for a stroker, at 80mpg. It smoked, rattled and shook just as badly as the ETZ and suffered from a choke that would seize on, leaving a mile of highway in a dense enough fog to have the police out with the warning lights and radio messages flashing across the country
Handling and braking was somewhere between the extremes of the two 250s. If the front drum was never startling in its power it never actually faded away to nothing. If the bike was stable at the front end, the back would twitch, weave and wobble The latter was easily fixed by putting in some new swinging arm bearings and fitting some stronger shocks.
There was never the great, reassuring feel of the ETZ, but the 150 was better than a CD175 or even a RXS100. The only time the front brake really let me down was after riding through a large puddle when water would seep into the drum, reducing braking to nothing and my heart to a desperate metronome beat.
Handling was as slow as it was steady. Once I'd decided to trust the mechanicals, I ventured far and wide on the humming MZ. The gearbox was the usual crap I'd come to love and loathe at the same time. The engine didn't like to hold fourth gear unless 50mph was up, which like the 250s seemed the natural cruising speed, when there was a little acceleration in reserve and the single cylinder engine's vibration was tolerable for 150 miles at a time.
The ETZ was the smoothest of the bunch, with the TS putting out some wretchly strong buzzing when 60mph was on the clock, and the 150 sounding like it was grinding away in self-destruct mode come 70mph. Although that speed is impressive, just the mildest of upward inclines or slightest of headwinds would bog the motor down to a mere 60mph. Two-up it didn't want to know about more than 55mph, unlike the 250s that were willing to run up to their top speeds.
If the 150 was at times hard work to keep motoring it at least remained fun, though often for reasons that are too obscure to put into print. In 18 months I did a relatively trouble free 32000 miles, but by then the smokescreen had become impenetrable and the neighbours handed me a 200 name petition in protest, threatening to call in the environmental health office if not beat the living daylights out of me.
The cause of all the hassle was a worn out oil ring and oval bore. I'd had a lot of luck picking up dead MZ 150's, though they were all well worn, so combining the best piston and bore quickly had me back on the road and the neighbours no longer needing to wear gas masks, buy oxygen bottles or clean the grime off their windows twice a day.
I had noticed that the gearbox was grumbling away like it'd had enough and checking all my other engines had revealed shagged shafts and buggered bearings. I didn't gently tap the gear lever but applied ankle snapping force, the engine shuddering and the gearbox lurching. It was so bad that not even the full enclosure could save the chain from dying a quick death. Gearbox failure really is this machine's undoing.
Mine didn't go until the £25 hack had done 67000 miles! It was so violent a demise that we were thrown down the road at about 30mph. One poor sod in a cage ruined his car by trying to ride over the rugged MZ. It left a large, child swallowing, impression in the road, a written off car and myself without a layer of skin on one leg. All I can say about the NHS is that the nurses made such a painful job of fixing up the limb that I reckon they are paid extra to dissuade motorcyclists from ever venturing on to the road again.
It didn't work. I ended up buying a nearly new, really pristine MZ 301 for a mere five hundred notes. It's a brilliant little bike, at least in the context of all the hacks I've owned. I've only done 5 miles as I pen this, but even that was enough to reveal it a machine in the true MZ tradition.
Lance Brimley