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"Yes, you can have a motorcycle son, but nothing larger than 150cc, and even they can be killers." That’s what my ol’ chap said to me in January 1965. Miserable sod! He knew I wanted a 250 Honda. I was sixteen and a half and had some very hard earnt money burning a hole in my pocket for a deposit. What else could I do? I was Honda mad, so I bought a CB92.
The garage where I worked had a relationship with a motorcycle shop in a small town nearby. So when I arrived at work on Wednesday, the CB92 I was planning to buy had been delivered. It was a 1964 Benly Super Sports in blue and silver. Although it was ten months old it had 10,000 miles on the clock, which was rather a lot for a small, high performance machine.
On starting the engine, a rattle from the camchain was audible, but this disappeared after a tweak on the adjuster. A few scruff marks and non-standard ace bars revealed that it had once been dropped, but everything else appeared fine.
The CB92 has a twin cylinder engine displacing 124cc, with a single OHC and single carb, developing 15hp at 10,000rpm. The chassis was pressed steel with no down tube, the engine used as a stressed member. The front end was dominated by a massive TLS brake in an 18" wheel, close fitting sports mudguard, a leading link pressed steel fork, topped by a rectangular headlamp and flyscreen. The hammerhead shaped tank had large rubber knee grips, the red seat only just large enough to accommodate two people (pillion rests were not a standard fitting). The swinging arm was also pressed steel and the shocks were adjustable between hard and bloody hard. Back then, a CB92 looked like it was doing 60mph even when stationary.
The CB92 was not the 50mph runabout my old man had intended (unless there was a headwind). At normal revs, below six grand, it was just a plodder but drop a cog or two and wind the revs up, and it would really fly. It would see off most of the Brit 250s (given a decent road and no wind), like Fanny B’s, Ariels, etc.
One of my mates had a C15 which developed 14hp. The CB92 would be out in front of that, until you came to a hill or a slight wind, then the C15’s superior torque helped it get in front. It was no good trying to take on a Continental GT or Golden Arrow, though. Once, when a group of us went to Mallory Park, the journey up the A5 was one long burn-up with me holding the CB92 at maximum revs in third gear (60mph) for mile after mile with no ill effects. Good job it wasn’t fitted with a rev counter, although one was available as an optional extra.
The handling was generally good once the quick-slip Jap tyres had been replaced. The suspension was hard and there was even a steering damper fitted. If anything, the Honda was overbraked for its performance, that front drum was a real stopper. Top speed was between 80 and 85mph, the smooth four speed box well matched to the power delivery.
Despite the 6V electrics, which gave no trouble, an electric start was fitted, but I never used this from cold. A nice touch was a lever that allowed adjustment of the front headlamp. The engine only took one and a half pints, so the oil had to be changed every 500 miles, made up for by fuel consumption around the 90mpg mark.
I ran the bike for 6000 miles in nine months, selling it after I passed my test for £30 less than I paid for it. It was just beginning to burn oil on one pot and three months later the new owner had to fit new pistons, although the bike lasted to at least 1970, which was the last time I saw it. Next came a CB72, the Japanese 250 of the day. Where I lived there were hardly any Yams and the only Suzukis were mundane T10 tourers (until ‘66 when the T20 Super Six came out). My Dream Super Sport was a ’62 model with fairly high miles and rattled a bit. It was a bit tatty so I was able to obtain it for £ 120. Most of the work was cosmetic, a respray to everything except frame sorted that out.
Handling was dodgy at the best of times, a new set of rear shocks helped but the front forks lacked damping and topped out. The engine formed part of the frame but this didn’t seem to help the handling at all. Two up riding was really bad. The 'in' tyres, back then, were Avon Speedmasters Mk2. Most un-Honda like the brakes were hopeless. The dealer claimed new pads had been fitted and I should bring it in.
I did, to my cost. I was following a plonker in a Land Rover who decided to turn right at the last moment, having no indicators he stuck his hand out of the window. I had the choice of hitting the back of the Land Rover, the front of the oncoming car or trying to squeeze between them. Naturally I chose the latter and just got through, brushing Farmer Giles' hand in the process. When I looked back he was shaking his fist at me, but I didn’t stop. The bastard reported me, and that cost me eleven quid and an endorsement. At least the dealer fixed the brakes for nothing.
The CB72 was advanced in its day. It was a twin cylinder, SOHC with twin carbs, a 180 degree crank, 12V electrics and 24hp at 9000rpm. You could always tell when one was coming in the night by the brightness of its excellent headlamp, and like the smaller bike it was fitted with an electric starter that didn’t inspire much confidence from cold starts. After I overcame the initial problems with the CB, it was OK but not as good as expected.
After a couple of months oil started seeping out of the breather pipe so I knew all was not well. I decided to strip the top end, which required removal of the engine. The most difficult part of stripping an old Honda is actually undoing the grotty engine screws - an impact driver and large hammer are necessary. The pistons were really cream crackered, no wonder she didn’t go so well. They turned out to be 4th oversize. After I rebuilt the engine there was an enormous improvement in performance and I was really pleased with it.
I only kept it for three months, with only the additional problem of silencers splitting near their mounting brackets - most Hondas had their silencers replaced after three years due to this rather the later quick rot tendencies. One neat point were the adjustable footrests mounted on a neat alloy plate, three different positions were available.
I sold the CB72 because a friend had a CB77 for sale, which he’d owned from new and was in superb condition. It was late ’66 by then, and it was a '64 model registered in September of that year, so it was not quite two years old. It was fitted with a Craven 4 gal tank, racing seat, clip-ons, rear- sets and Goldstar silencers. A really beautiful Peel Mountain fairing came with it plus all the stock parts. All for £150. Too much of a bargain to turn down, because the 305 was not very popular with the CB450 Black Bomber making its presence felt, and the 250 learner laws meaning I managed to unload the CB72 for £130.
The engine was completely virgin, rattle free and smooth. The Goldie silencers gave it a distinctive sound. And what a flier. Once I fitted the fairing a genuine 100mph was available from the 28hp motor. The 305 was quite a small bike, physically, by today's standards, but fairly large by the sixties standards — if you know what I mean. The differences between 250 and 350 were minimal, setting the trend for later machines. The 305 weighed in at a mere 325lbs.
Speeds in the gears were 40, 60, 80 and 100mph (lying on the tank). Once, when I was overtaking a car I was in second gear when a plonker pulled out from a concealed entrance — not to worry, I screwed it on in second, the revs went up and she really flew along. The bike went all smooth and silky, like it wasn’t even on the road anymore - looking down at the combined speedo/rev counter showed 11000rpm and 72mph; I changed up a bit quick!
A few months later I went up to Manchester from just south of Oxford. The journey took just two and a half hours, a record, never broken by me since, even 20 years later with much more motorway and a variety of high powered cars available to me. Still, there was a lot less traffic about then, eh?
The 305's handling was better than my previous 250, partly thanks to the non—standard shocks on the rear. When I changed the rear tyre I used a 3.25 x18 instead of the stock 3.00 x 18, helping the frightening tyre wear (5000 miles) but not doing much for the handling. It was safe enough, you could chuck it about OK, the limiting factor grounding of the fairing - I often used to leave white marks on the tarmac of my favourite bends.
During the winter of ’66/67, on the way to work, the power dropped off and blue smoke began pouring out of the left-hand pot. I thought the rings had broken, but it turned out there was a hole in the piston — probably due to the Goldie silencers, although the carbs had been jetted up.
After I’d run the bike in, I did an ignition timing and tappet check, using a large ring spanner to turn the engine over on the alternator rotor bolt. After I’d finished I kicked the engine over and the spanner went flying. I thought no more of it. On the way home a knocking sound came from the bottom end of the engine. Damn it, I thought, the new pistons had been too much for the big-ends. I dropped the engine out in twenty minutes (I was getting used to this) What a wally, it was only a loose alternator rotor. When I put it all back together it wouldn’t tick over properly, instead of the regular 500/600rpm, it was a very erratic 2000rpm. It took me an hour to discover that the slides had been mixed up, so the cutout on the slide was at the front not the back.
How can you be a wally twice in one day? Well, you can. Late in the ’67 season I went to Mallory Park to cheer Mike Hailwood on when he was wiping the floor with the opposition on the superb Honda 297 six. When I arrived I discovered my sandwiches were floating in orange juice when the top of the container had come off (have you ever tried eating orange flavoured cheese sandwiches?). Then I discovered I’d placed my helmet down in a large cow pat. Then, to top it all, when I returned to the bike it had fallen over on the soft ground, and the bracket had gone through the side of the sodding fairing. I could have cried.
On another trip, to Brands Hatch, I was with a guy on an A10. On the way back, going up Death Hill, my mate's A10 was giving some bother. He was behind me but in the outside lane, when I looked back to check on him and returned my vision to the front I found a chap on a Suzuki Super Six had decided to stop. Now, Honda brakes may be good, but they are not that good. So, wallop, straight up his backside I went and over the handlebars. Falling off your motorcycle is one thing, but doing it in front of 10,000 or so fellow race watchers is quite another. The Suzi suffered a bent number plate, and I had the fairing to repair, again.
The only other major problem I had with the 305 was the gearbox. The kickstart, which was unusable with the fairing fitted, began to move on its own and jam against the fairing. Then a whine started in third gear. Time to have a look, out came the engine, again. This time the top end was left alone and the crankcases split after removing the covers, clutch, primary gears, etc. The bearings and layshaft were completely gone. I waited three weeks and had to pay £12 for a shaft (a year later a complete exchange crank for my Mini cost £7). It was interesting to note that there was no gasket between the crankcase halves, yet it never leaked a drop of oil.
In August ’67 when I went from my home to Halifax with my cousin and his mate (they on Norton 600 and 650), not only did the Honda set the pace for them on the motorway (70 to 80mph) but the CB returned much better mpg figures. Of course, the Nortons could run rings around me on road holding, but in a straight line the 305 was faster than the 600 and not far behind the 650 (all without their vibes).
The main event that I shall never forget from that trip was this: 1967 was the year of the Foot & Mouth epidemic on the Lancashire/Yorkshire border and a large trough had been built across the road, filled with disinfectant. All around it were flashing lights and slow signs. But this prat in an A60 (that’s a car) Austin obviously didn't see it, cos he tried to cross it at about 50mph. The car leapt into the air, the boot came undone and a suitcase full of clothes was ejected into the disinfectant. There were socks, shirts and things floating about. Well, we couldn’t ride properly for laughing. I haven’t laughed so much since my ol’ chap painted his Morris 8 with black Valspar and three million flies landed on it!
As mentioned previously, the kickstart was unusable due to the fairing, which put an enormous amount of work on the electric starter, driven by a chain via a roller clutch. Every so often, I had to remove the clutch, remove the three rollers and replace the three inertia springs which used to get bits chopped off them. About twenty minutes work and really silly money for three tiny springs.
Towards the end of ’67 I put the bike back to standard, including straight bars and mirrors, but not the silencers. This didn’t help the handling very much as it seemed to like weight over the front wheel, riding two- up for a long distance could turn out a real bind.
I had a big decision to make, buy the CB450 or go for four wheels and try to pull some birds. Well, the bird (now the wife) won. I sold all the fancy bits, but, despite advertising in all known places, just couldn’t shift the 305 (as well as the CB450 there was also the Suzuki T500 getting up the noses of Bonnie owners), so traded it in for a Mini van (yes, really) for £90.
My last view of it was sitting all nice and clean and shiny in a garage in Oxford, as I drove my Mini van away. Boy, what I wouldn't give to go back in time and bring it back today.
The Kawasaki EX305A1 (read GPz) was launched in 1983 and is basically an over-bored version of the ER250 Scorpion. The 250 engine first appeared in 1979, so is by now well tried and proved (cue for hundreds of disgruntled owners to write in - Ed). The last 250 boasted a belt drive which the 305 adopted in 1984 along with some other minor changes including a new clutch mechanism (similar to the GT550). The latter employed to stop the oil seeping out of the old mechanism when an O—ring went, although lots of instant gasket would stop the flow.
Tyre choice makes a tremendous difference to the way the bike performs, particularly to the flickability through the corners. Pirelli Phantoms, which were expected to be good, were thrown away before they were worn out. Good all-round tyres were Metzeler ME77s. Roadrunners last a long time (15000 miles on the front) but allow the front wheel to slide a little in the wet. ME77s last for 3-5000 miles...
Ordinary oil needs changing every 1000 miles along with the filter, but (and I don’t work for them) Shell’s Gemini oil appears to last anywhere between 1500 and 2000 miles without any ill effects. Oil consumption is negligible even with 30,000 miles on the clock.
Spark plug consumption is in two stroke country, unless they’re changed every 4000 miles high speed performance disappears. Chains last for around eight thousand miles, while the £70 belts can last as little as 4000 miles before teeth start disappearing — once one has gone it's not long before they all snap off and the belt ends up looking like a rubber band. The most that I’ve heard a belt doing is 15000 miles and, at least, you don’t have to change the sprockets.
Another quick wear area is the Uni-trak, I’ve just spent £80 on bushes and sleeves after one of the linkages snapped - okay I didn’t grease it, but it’s not nice having the rear suspension collapse whilst you’re on the bike. It really needs to be taken apart and greased twice a year.
It isn’t difficult to touch the pegs down even with the suspension jacked up to maximum. Travelling two-up can easily result in the bottom of the silencer wearing out (Motads are even lower) or the side-stand digging holes out of the tarmac (this takes the stand out and activates the ignition cut-out switch - but this should be bypassed, anyway, cos they always cause the engine to misfire).
At first, I wasn’t impressed by the lack of a kickstart, but the Kawa has always rumbled into life at the first touch of the button even in the depths of winter. It needs full choke to start, but after a few hundred yards it ban be turned fully off. Vibes arrive at 5500rpm but quickly disappear by the time the real power starts arriving at 7000rpm.
Maximum torque arrives at 8500rpm, equal to atop speed of 100mph. A Motad exhaust makes a big difference to the bike’s mid-range power but doesn’t increase the top speed.
The brakes must be about the best for this class of bike, the double front discs make the forks "brake dance," a brown trouser effect. Under normal conditions, however, there’s plenty of feel with only two-fingered pressure required.The rear brake is not in the same league, with no feel and not much power. I feel that a disc at the back would be much better. Front pads last for 8 to 10 thou and rear shoes a little bit longer.
The biggest plus for the bike is its amazing fuel economy — I get between 70 and 80mpg running to and from work at a constant 70mph. At slower speeds, with a less twitchy right hand, it’s possible (with great boredom but I did try it out) to creep into the nineties but I’ve never broken through the 100mpg barrier, but then it isn’t a C50, is it? This must make it the ideal choice for commuters, especially as it can be run on lead-free fuel with no noticeable ill effects (I’m not a conservationist, the stuff is cheaper).
The riding position is good but expect an aching backside after as little as fifty miles and the pillion’s perch is even less comfortable. The bikini fairing protects the top half of the rider to some extent, but if you‘re more than 5' 10" tall expect the screen to blast air straight into your face. As I’m over six feet tall, a 2" flip up screen addition was a good investment. The controls all worked quite well, although the mirrors start to blur after 7000rpm and just become worse as the revs increase, which is a little licence-endangering if you’ve an ill restrained right wrist. The fuel gauge is helpful, although It doesn’t start working for the first fifty miles on a full tank, it does register empty when there’s a useful fifty miles worth of petrol left.
Overall, I find it an excellent bike (well, what do you expect from an owner) but there do seem to be good and bad uns. Amongst the latter was a camshaft that went at 12,500 miles (lack of oil changes I’d guess). Others have a disturbing tendency to cut out in the wet because of the brilliantly designed front mudguard that gives the engine a bath in the rain. The company that produces WD40 must be very grateful to Kawasaki as emptying a can on the electrics and taping all the connections to the CDI unit seems to cure any electrical failure.
There are reports of the top end prematurely wearing, but I suspect that this only happens if oil and filter changes are neglected. Both the bikes I’ve owned have had louder than expected top ends for thousands of miles but with no self destruction... so far.
Given that the engine is hardly any bigger than a 250 and its design is nothing more complex than something Honda might have released in the mid-sixties - a mere two valves per cylinder, one camshaft, an 180 degree crankshaft and no balance shafts - the amount of performance available combined with the excellent economy is pretty damn good, and puts rival and far more complex twins to shame.
One bad, really more annoying than anything else, problem is that endemic to the breed is a continual smear of oil from midway up the barrels even with a new head gasket and the nuts tightened down way beyond the recommended settings. There seems no cure to this problem, short of Aralditing the gasket to head and cylinder.
On out and out performance, it obviously can’t keep up with the 350 two strokes, like a Yamaha YPVS, although, somewhat surprisingly (you should see the look on their faces) it will keep up to around 60mph before it gets blown into the weeds. Unfortunately, riding it like a crazed lunatic helps not one jot, as most LC owners are crazed lunatics in their own right. It would be interesting to see if the much better fuel economy of the GPz would let it catch up over a long distance as it wouldn’t have to stop to load up on fuel so often.
Spares are not particularly cheap nor very readily available from breakers - trying to get side panels from a breaker is like trying to get blood out of a stone.
It’s no good asking me if I’d buy another, as I'm already on my second... I suppose a GPZ500 twin would be the next logical step.
After the last war, Ariel joined the other British bike manufacturers in producing parallel twins. Ariel brought out a 500cc twin (Model KH) with two camshafts as per Triumph, but driven by a duplex chain. The cylinder barrels were retained by a peculiar system of captive bolts which could only be undone a sixteenth of a turn at a time making removal bloody frustrating. I acquired one of these twins in 1965 for £25 from an ad in Exchange & Mart.
The performance was totally underwhelming - 80mph given calm conditions - I felt a complete berk with Honda 125s able to keep up with me. In actual fact, my Ariel Arrow, despite a nominally less powerful engine, was just as fast due to its lower mass. So reliable as the KH was it was plain that drastic measures would have to be taken to wipe the sniggers off the Honda mounted piss-takers.
There were several alternatives available but not easily put into practice due to lack of readies. I could part exchange the bike for a new Jap, but I’d tried a CB77 which if was a good bike was by no means exceptional. I could part exchange for a bigger Brit - I looked at a Velo 500 but really wanted a twin and tested a Royal Enfield 700. A bike that had the guts to wipe the floor with any of the opposition, after a decent run you’d have to spend quite a bit of time wiping up after it. Sure, all British bikes leaked, but not as bad as this.
Anyway, a solution was found - I was given a 650cc Huntmaster engine in reasonable shape. As all Ariels used the same frame and gearbox, this bolted straight in. Before the conversion I didn’t think there was much difference in the engines - was I ever wrong? Where the 500 had been straining to attain 75mph, the 650 was only just beginning to stretch its legs. After I became used to it, I cruised for long distances with eighty on the clock with the odd blast up to the ton. Needless to say, those Honda Benly owners were blown into the weeds. After a bit, one of them bought a Tiger 100, another a Dommie SS.
The Huntmaster was very reliable, although the oil required regular changing and every 3000 miles I use to take the engine down to check the big-ends and plain main bearings. I think that the roller bearing conversion that is available on these engines is quite a worthwhile investment when you consider the number of times the plain timing side bearing needs to be replaced.
Mention of the Dominator always reminds me of my mate Malcolm, who used to take the head off his Dommie every other week to grind the valves in. I told him it wasn’t necessary but nevertheless he insisted it had to be done to maintain performance - what did become necessary after about three months was a new head because the valve seats had sunk right into the ports. This apart, the Dominator was possibly the best British twin, it certainly outhandled the Triumphs with their quaint bolted up rear end and the Ariel with its inferior suspension.
After a few months on my re-engined Ariel I began to lust for a bit more poke, especially since I had discovered that the Ariel 650 engine was merely a badge engineered BSA Gold Flash. The next time I stripped down the engine I had Rocket Goldstar camshaft, pistons, barrels and head plus swept back pipes and silencers ready to fit. When I had rebuilt the bike in this form, I tried her out on a straight stretch we use to race along, and was astonished to find that I could get the speedo somewhere between 110 and 120mph.
This was quite a laugh, as it turned out, because idiots on A7 Shooting Stars and Tiger 100s would challenge the to a burn up thinking I was riding a bog-standard Huntmaster, which everybody knew was only fit for pulling a chair. One berk with a Tiger 90, for God’s sake, actually challenged me to a race to a village about ten miles away. I accepted, provided the race was there and back - I blew the wally away in the first 400 yards, drove like a maniac all the way there and passed this pillock going the other way when I was about halfway back. If the guy had had any sense at all he wouldn’t have come back, claiming a breakdown. As it was, he turned up half an hour later and had the piss taken unmercifully for ages afterwards (youth can be so cruel).
Back then, biking had its compensations. This was before most young people had cars. If a bird was daft enough to ride with you, a quick blast across the country would reduce her to putty in your hands (well, you know what I mean). As I now possessed a machine with the performance of a Rocket Goldstar, albeit in street sleeper form, I felt reasonably pleased. After all, the conversion had only cost me about £15, although that was about £3 more than a weeks wages at that time. I think the only new parts I ever bought were piston rings and big-end shells. With the RGS bits fitted it started knocking out big-ends and mains a lot quicker - it’s this that inhibits me from changing my current Huntmaster, that will stay with standard 6.5:1 pistons and soft camshaft - parts aren’t as cheap or as readily available as they used to be.
Apart from the inconvenience of frequent strip downs to keep on top of things, my machine was totally reliable. It handled very nicely, never did less than 60mpg and used a pint of oil about every 500 miles. The only thing that was annoying was that when it was hot it would sometimes prove impossible to start, which on a hot summers day was bloody infuriating. This baffled me until a new magneto was installed and the problem disappeared.
Talking of magnetos, it used to have another endearing habit, stripping the teeth on the drive gear. This never happened to me, thankfully, but I know several people who were stranded by this trick. The dodge to get round this was to revert to manual advance/retard on the mag, remove the poxy fibre automatic (spring loaded bobweights) A/R cog and fit a plain steel mag pinion. If you have one nowadays you mostly have to do this anyway as the fibre wheels are usually well shagged and totally useless. At an autojumble, out of curiosity, I asked a guy selling knackered fibre pinions how much they were - fifteen quid he replied. What an asshole, he’d be better off selling fridges to Eskimos. There are bargains to be had but there’s also one hell of a lot of junk; don’t buy in haste and regret at leisure.
Anyway, there you have it, my present day Huntmaster is nearing completion, although if someone offers me much more than he first suggested I may well sell it to try out one of these Japanese things.
This story begins way back in 1985 when turning sixteen I decided I needed a motorcycle. What I wanted was a black RD350 with Microns. What I got was a Suzuki CS50 to learn on and then a Vespa scooter, fast but slow and lasted for 14000 miles till I chopped it for a RD250E. This was worn out but went like shit off a shovel compared to the other two bikes.
Then, one day, I sold it for £130, visited the bank manager who insisted on loaning me £800 and was soon the proud owner of a £700, Y reg RD350LC, at long last. The rear tyre was bald but the tune played out of the Allspeeds was music to the ears. The clutch slipped under full power but the bike looked bloody smart.
Despite 16000 miles on the clock there were no nasty noises from the motor and the bike sang along like a good 'un. An Arrowmax was fitted on the back, which turned out to last half the distance of a mate’s Roadrunner and cost an extortionate forty notes.
One of the nice things about LCs is that you can burn off just about every car on the road up to 80mph. I‘ve taken every hatchback we come across and you should see the look on their faces as you fly past. One race l well remember is one night when l was about to join the M6, when a red BMW air roared past. I cogged down a few gears and motored after him. Catching up and passing the BMW l was surprised to see some old geezer at the wheel.
Once past, I pulled in front, running up to 100mph, concentrating on the traffic and hoping Mr Plod wasn‘t about. Next thing I know, the BM hurtles past with the driver giving me the V's. I glanced at the back to see which BMW it was, all I could see was M5. As soon as I arrived home out came the car mags to find the top end of that slag - 140mph. The problem with the LC is that it drinks fuel and oil. it's dead easy to get down to 30mpg, although I have managed 40mpg when I’ve been in a restrained mood.
I used the bike through the summer and winter, piling up 23000 miles on the clock, when it became difficult to start. Out came the plugs and off came the carbs for a clean. Didn‘t make any difference. Then I noted that the fumes out of one exhaust were a lot less than the other. Off came the heads and barrels - one of the pistons had a crack from side to side. One new piston later it refused to start, so I had to push 350lbs down a hill and bump her - it started straight away and off I went. It was smoother and even ticked over properly. I quickly ran it in and then screwed it down the East Lancs road (A580) only to find that the clutch started slipping at 100mph. New plates and springs set me back £36, which i thought a bit steep, but what the hell, it's only money. I then went for another run, down the M6, with no clutch slip it shot up to 120mph (really around 112mph) with a deal of vibration and a snakey little weave. So far, I haven‘t fallen off, despite some very near misses.
Apart from the piston and clutch, there have been no major problems - just keep fitting tyres and chains, and filling the various tanks. A headlamp bulb did blow once. I could probably extract better fuel consumption, but the effort would spoil all of the fun (Superslug owners please note).
The handling is very good when all the suspension components are in good condition and the tyres are new. When the rear tyre is held (the quick way to get motorcyclists to think safe is to halve the price of tyres) hitting cats eyes and white lines is pretty hairy, as the bike slips and jumps all over the road. The front forks last well, the rear shock could do with better damping from new, once old it lets the rear end skip and hop under heavy going; just as well the LC weighs so little.
When the chain ran out of adjustment I decided to take a link out. Lack of a split link meant I had to strip down the rear end to get the chain out, and then split it with a large hammer and chisel. I noticed that the engine sprocket was a bit short of teeth, so out with the file...
The LC is reliable, bloody good fun and an excellent device for pissing car drivers off. if you can afford the petrol, go for it. it‘s even possible to go touring on one, so it's quite a bit more versatile than its reputation might suggest.
Long ago and far away, when learners still rode 250s and I had not owned a bike for a couple of years, a longing for a return to two wheels grew on me. A chum tipped me off about a gold painted RD250, which whilst a non-runner looked like it had been well cared for. It had a fair amount of play at the end of the crankshaft - used to British engines, l assumed that when the mains finally went it would merely be a matter of a few quid and an afternoon's work. so I handed over £40 for a 1978 RD250DX.
I discovered a weak spark so started by replacing the electrics - new plugs, points and condensers failed to help the bike start. Whilst removing the tank to gain access to the coils, I had to remove the pipe that joins the two sides of the petrol tank — the fluid that fell out didn't look or feel like petrol. The tank emptied, the carbs drained, new petrol added and, much to my surprise, it came to life at the third kick. I later learnt that the bike had been lent to a chap who had syphoned off some fuel from his father's Transit, fitted with a diesel engine...
The Yam was a revelation after British bikes, so smooth and civilised up to around seven grand when all hell seemed to break loose and it went like crazy up to max revs. The brakes and handling (aided by Konis and Roadrunners) were both good. This was a fun bike. The bike could also be used for commuting in London, it ticked over cleanly and reliably, had some useful low speed power and even returned 43mpg.
On a tour of Ireland the bike found its true home in the mountain roads around Cork and Kerry, it just seemed to want to go quicker and quicker and averaged 50mpg. Sometimes, the curves would suddenly tighten, but all the RD required was a touch of the powerful front brake and to lean into the corner a little more. Its nimbleness and flickability made riding these mountain roads sheer exhilaration.
The thrash back down the motorway ended in the main. bearings disintegrating at 90mph, the motor just went slower and slower and then seized. Thank God for the RAC. A £30 used bottom end had me back on the road PDQ. The bike had done 6000 miles with that crankshaft slop so I didn't feel too hard done by.
Shortly afterwards, I bought a complete bike for spares for £20, which helped keep me on the road for the next couple of years. I eventually sold the Yam for £120 when a used Guzzi V50 became available - don‘t say it.
As the UMG points out, it's possible to pick up a good used motorcycle for very little money. This was especially true a few years ago of the 250cc class when riders suddenly found themselves forced off the road by the new learner laws. Every front garden across the nation seemed to contain a decaying 250 Superdream, waiting to be snapped up by anyone who had passed their test and had a hundred notes burning a hole in their pocket.
Knocking on people's doors. enquiring about what had been their pride and joy. could produce a mixed response. In some cases they were only too glad to have you clear their gardens of the offensive, rusting eyesore. On the other hand, offering someone a £100 for a three year old machine was often seen as a personal insult and a stream of berserk ranting would end in a tirade of threats with vicious dogs pouring from the house like rats after the Pied Piper.
After suffering much of this l eventually tracked down an air cooled, 1979 Yamaha RD250F. The bike had done 12000 miles and apart from a slightly damaged tank it was in good condition and totally original. After a bit of haggling the owner accepted £110, surprising as the RDs were one of the few 250s not to lose all their value after the learner laws were passed. The ride home revealed that both front and rear discs needed stripping but everything else seemed just fine.
Stripping the calipers was a real shit as both bleed nipples sheared off at the merest sniff of a spanner. I was able to get one out myself by hammering the tang of a file into it and then turning the file, but I had to have the other removed by a local engineering firm. Other RD owners have confirmed this as a common problem.
I didn’t give a damn about the dent in the tank, so all I had to do was service the engine. So easy. No valves, no camchains, electronic ignition, just change the oil and fit new plugs. Care is needed for the latter as the alloy is akin to plasticine - a friend managed to strip both the threads in his RD. If you're one.of those peculiar bods that enjoy spending Sunday mornings servicing motorbikes, don‘t bother with the RD as there ain't nothing to do!
First impressions were surprising, the engine was smooth with no vibes until eight grand was on the clock when there was a slight buzzing through the footrests and there was a useful amount of power between three and six grand - i had expected a much more on/off power delivery. The power does come in fiercely at 6000rpm, especially in the lower gears.
The traffic light GP soon becomes excellent fun as it's possible to leave bikes of twice the capacity standing, but a modern Gamma or water-cooled RD soon shows how far two stroke technology has come since the late seventies. Even so, whacking open the throttle in second can have the front wheel off the tarmac and the rear will try to break away. Chasing the redline in all the gears will provide plenty of grin inducing acceleration combined with a wonderful howl from the exhaust. It’s possible to get the ton on the speedo, which equates to a true 95mph.
Like the new water-cooled RDs, the old ones are happiest being hustled down twisty but last B roads with the motor spinning beyond 8000rpm. Ridden hard the Yam really can be exciting; sometimes too exciting, as the frame and suspension can be— come tied up in knots on fast bumpy curves, not as bad as other 250s of the same era, but a long way behind today's current wave of race replica bikes. If the Yam caused many heart stopping moments because the only way to ride it was fast, I never did actually fall off. Spare underwear fits neatly under the seat...
All this fun has to be paid for - a gallon of two star can disappear in under 20 miles when ridden on the limits. Even sane riding only improves it to around 30mpg. The oil tank also empties at an astonishing rate and should be checked daily. Spark plugs are another cause of lost of drinking vouchers, after 2000 miles starting is poor and 500 miles later the engine refuses to run. Rear tyres are needed every 5000 miles, chain and sprockets every 7000 miles. Not the cheapest 250 to run.
Fortunately. all this expense is compensated by a very reliable engine. The only time I had to take a spanner to the engine was to change the reed valves at 23000 miles. This was simple but expensive at £20 a set. The motor thrived on a diet of the most appalling abuse my right wrist could mete out. Friends with four strokes who had extracted the urine when I first bought the bike were forced to eat their words and admit the RD didn‘t melt pistons, snap con-rods or seize up solid. No, it just kept on eating the miles in the most exciting way possible.
In company of my mates, CB400 twin and four mounted, on a trip down the motorway, the RD was able to keep up with them at their 75mph cruising speed. This must have annoyed them as they didn‘t speak to me for the rest of the day. On the way back, the Superdream broke down, so in retribution I dropped two gears and howled off into the distance. i mentioned camchains and valve adjustment to these people when l was in a nasty mood.
If it all sounds an exceptionally pretty picture up till new, loan assure you that the general finish wasn't. By 35000 miles the bike looked an absolute wreck. it appeared that all the money went into the motor and to keep the price down the paint and chrome were applied in the cheapest manner possible - or was farmed out to the Italian residents of Tokyo. It was one of the worst finished bikers ever. The tank paint flaked off at the merest touch, the exhaust system was shot full of holes and the general impression was that something had gone rotten deep inside the Yarn. A used exhaust, front brake caliper and nearly new Konis left me no change from £80 and meant the finish had to be restored with black Hammerite from a distance it looked quite mean; close up it looked just like any other neglected bike.
By 37000 miles the top end started to rattle. so when a friend offered me a ton for it, I accepted. I had become tired of it and had outgrown its performance. For the money, it was great fun, so I won‘t complain.
RD250s are cheap to buy but expensive to run. Go fora stock one, as engine life is drastically reduced by tuning - down to 8000 miles on ton plus bikes. The chassis would also have to be modified to cope with excessive power. By now, they have all been thrashed by at least one owner, so care is needed. A vaguely noisy engine should be avoided unless the bike is very cheap (under £30). But even so, they were very popular so there are some bargains around. I wouldn't pay more than £150 for one but have seen them advertised for over £300.
There was a time, I recalled, when I thought Suzuki GS550s the business, but after owning a ZX1100 it just wasn‘t possible to enjoy the GS anymore. So into a dealers, where I managed to trade the GS for an X reg 250LC plus £100 (it was £699 straight cash). The LC was a totally different experience smooth, quiet and deceptively quick. Riding the LC was a joy until I went to Sherburn and swapped bikes for the return journey home with my mate who had a Stephens tuned 350. After two miles I was hooked! The 350 had so much low down smack that the power step at six grand was all the more surprising. The 250 felt like a restricted moped after that.
A few weeks passed and I found myself in a rather desperate need of a fix and was forced to tune my 250. Half millimetre skimmed off the head, top air box removed, 210 main jets. silicone sealant instead of the head gasket. Hy-Tech reeds with stops opened out and modified timing - an instant 110mph machine; it still wasn't as quick as the 350 but I was more than happy.
All went well until May '87, after 3 years of ownership. I managed to pick up a used Stephens 350cc tuned top end for £25 and twin discs plus master cylinder for £15. The next few weeks were hectic for I needed oil pump, carbs. gaskets and zorsts - bits were acquired from several breakers in diverse locations. TZ springs were added to the clutch to stop slip, fresh gearbox oil and new cooling fluid bunged in.
After a long evening in the garage the new, bigger, LC was ready for its road debut. After a careful warming up period my attempt at giving it some go was hindered as it wouldn't rev above six grand. I phoned up Stan The Man, who was very helpful - no top air box and filter, 290 main jets and needles in the lowest position. Tentatively I tried the bike again. Once warm, six grand showing then Kapow — the bike sprinting off like a demented thing, front wheel pawing the air, then skipping along the tarmac as I changed up the box, finally writhing and wriggling around even in a straight line.
Plug swaps showed that the midrange was a little weak so copper washers were inserted under the needles, which sharpened up the throttle response. The power is a bit on/off, the fuel consumption a terrible 29mpg and the flat out handling at 117mph can be most, er, interesting. Spares are cheap and readily available. A word of warning to anyone converting a 250: watch out for early 350 carbs as they are crap and fit T2750 springs to the clutch as they're only a quid each and can be fitted when the oil pumps are changed.
I dont think I'd part with it for anything (‘cept maybe a TZR or YPVS) and to think the whole thing only cost £405 in total!
A funny thing happened to me the other day. Well, OK, it was actually a few months ago that it first occurred, but what the hell, when you actually survive for thirty odd years a few months seem to be just like yesterday. I was playing at being a pedestrian at the time. You know the kind of thing, dodging rabid Dobermans, crazed ex-mental patients and the odd acquaintance who assumes that ownership of a motorcycle magazine equals loadsamoney equals an easy touch, when I saw the damn thing. The whole experience really threw me. There I was considering firebombing a rival out of business (this is what comes out of hanging out in Bangkok for too long, where the odd grenade tossed into a rival’s emporium is merely a matter of course and a large bribe to the pigs if things go seriously wrong), when I was stopped in my tracks by a Honda CB360G5. It was in pretty good condition and painted in a shade of green not that dissimilar to the cover of issue 11 (still available for a trifling amount of dosh if you turn to the back issue page).
I’d actually owned one of these devices for a few months, £50 and a deal of white smoke out of the engine breather. It was a pleasant enough machine to chuck through traffic; but one, dogged by a reputation for eating camshaft bearings in a manner that would have made the British motorcycle industry envious had it not been produced at a time when that once great engineering empire was all but extinct - if you were lucky and had a mild right hand the camshaft bearings might just make it through to the end of the warranty; if you thrashed it, it’d just start playing games after a few thousand miles. But for fifty notes I wasn’t going to complain and dumped the bike at a mild profit on some car owner once I’d become bored with it. At the time, my main machine was a Yamaha XS650 that kept me amused with unpredictable speed wobbles and wondering just when a 50,000 mile engine was going to blow (it never did), so I gave the little Honda hardly a second thought as it came and went.
So how come it caught my attention in that damp and wet Cardiff street? I can only surmise that I was suffering from a surfeit of high tech imagery and the plain simplicity of the little Honda caught my eye. You understand, it didn’t quite match the impression made by a beautiful sixteen year old Thai girl, but I was unable to dismiss it with my normal contempt reserved for such bland machinery. I mean, hell, the engineering was inferior to an early sixties CB77 and the street cred of the thing only a little ahead of an ancient CZ, but I had to admit it, I actually dug its looks.
Although I will be the first person to admit to the possession of some very strange tastes, I thought that this didn't fully explain the GS effect. For a while I thought I was turning into a boring old fart, would have to sell the UMG and seek employment with one of the other publishers of motorcycle magazines (such bitchiness, huh?) but further investigation revealed that these mid- seventies twins are taking over the role that British twins used to take before they became classic fodder and very expensive. Just like when you own a particular machine, I began to notice all sorts of odd machinery chugging (or, more usually, roaring on open, rusted zorsts) around. This is nothing new, of course, because I was well aware of it when I started the UMG, but what was different was the type of motorcyclist riding them. These were serious guys; you can always tell serious motorcyclists by the ten year old leather jacket. So, I wasn't alone.
In fact, despite my abhorrence of its lack of functional integrity, I also quite liked the looks of the new Honda CD250, formed in that early seventies mould of plain and straightforward engineering but what a thing to happen to the poor old CD name, so long representing sheer functionality that it’s now lumbered with a silly disc front brake (wonder if it’ll seize up before the disc wears out) and what looks suspiciously like twin carbs. Like the CB400/4 and XBR500 these bikes can only be considered as concept bikes in which an old idea has been greatly corrupted by a bunch of stylists. Those with long memories will recall that I reckoned that they would sell a lot if priced under a grand well, that’s optimism for you, you might just get one discounted down to £1600 if you’re lucky. Only one word for it - pathetic. Japan Inc must be finished if this is the best they can do!
Things began to get rapidly worse. I almost bought a Honda CB500T (it was a dark brown one and had a decent looking 2-1 exhaust.....) and then there was the temptation of a Kawasaki Z750 twin, a motorcycle of such awful engineering (yes, I know, they are wonderfully torquey and laid back to muscle around city streets) that I would have had to move to another part of the country had I succumbed. I suddenly found that the Honda CBR600, a machine I’d previously lusted after, appeared tacky and already looked out of date; alongside an old Suzuki 450 twin it began to look less and less convincing.
Deciding that a dose of sea air would clear the mind I relocated to an obscure seaside town where the local thugs apparently take a great delight in beating up people from Cardiff (but a 14 year old leather jacket provides a degree of anonymity) and the edge of poverty is apparent in the number of youths who roar around on old Jap twins. There was no getting away from them!
I was particularly taken by a Honda 400 Dream. Do you remember them? That dumpy tank and a seat line even more obscure than a CB500T (which was bad enough, a sort of Velo cast off gone tragically wrong). And an engine with all the sexiness of a lump of blancmange. I can remember that my initial reaction to it when it was launched was one of near hysterical laughter, it just looked so silly compared to their earlier twins, with all the integrity of a motorcycle magazine ad rep. Then. This one was missing one silencer, the pipe end welded up, the fumes exiting via the balance pipe to the remaining silencer, but even this seemed to have a certain quaintness.
Salvation almost came in the form of a Harley Sportster. For some reason, as obscure as the house across the road that intermittently has a red light in the window and an open door (very strange places these Welsh towns), I’ve seen two of these devices chugging happily through the centre of town on a number of occasions - and I want one. Unfortunately, that would mean a visit to the Big Apple, a prospect about as thrilling as finding out the roof’s just fallen off, as one Yank for one minute sets my teeth on edge and I have enough problems with my dentist as it is. For all its engineering backwardness, at least the damn thing has some street cred. But such an easy escape wasn't to be.
I knew things were becoming seriously desperate when I fell for a Yamaha XS500 twin with aluminium so corroded that the white oxide had turned a dirty brown. It looked so bad that had someone tried to undo a spark plug the cylinder head would have probably snapped off before it moved. Much to my dismay the owner wasn’t interested in selling it, despite what seemed an inordinate amount of dosh on offer. I was so dejected that even the smile of the Thai girl who worked in the local Chinese (you can work the logic of that one out for yourself) hardly had any effect.
I couldn’t even get seriously drunk as I’ve taken the step of boycotting all bars where the ratio of girls to men isn’t greater than 1:1 (yet another reason for avoiding Shit City), which leaves Merthyr Tydfil and the like where there are girls in abundance who insist on wearing very short skirts, most of the men having got on their bikes to look for work, but I didn’t figure that turning up on some old hack would greatly impress them.
Well, by the time you read this I will have removed myself safely out of temptation and will be spending as much of the winter as possible in a warm climate where rain is as rare as truth in glossy motorcycle magazines (is that two or three digs?) By the time I return I hope to have removed such obsessions from my mind and look forward to the odd bank raid or dubious financial speculation in order to raise the finance for some nearly new, high tech piece of madness - I mean, I’m sure a few sorties up to 150mph will help re-educate me... Jesus, no, I mean yes, you only want £250 for that ’73 CD175, yes it does look rather like an early BSA A65 from a certain angle, yes it does sound rather rorty with those open pipes, yes...
When looking for your copy of the UMG in Smiths you’ll have noticed that approximately one third of all the glossy publications contain the word 'classic' in their title. Most of the articles in these magazines deal with British motorcycle of the 50s and 60s, although, these days, some attention is occasionally paid to early Japs and most Italian machines.
Double page full colour photo spreads show pristine Vincents, Velos and, of course, Goldstars. All jolly nice to look at but of little relevance to the average motorcyclist who is more interested in reliable, day to day, transport and thrills per pound spent. However, these glossy pics may seduce you enough to buy the mag and read the contents.
Bantams, C15s, Tiger Cubs, etc. are reviewed with road tests ending in phrases like 'superb cooking single,’ ‘powerful sports twin’ and the worst I’ve ever seen, 'classically classic.’ Performance figures are never quoted (only estimated), reliability never mentioned and the example tested is usually freshly and expensively restored.
Reading such articles can easily lead to a once sane CB500 rider becoming a fanatical devotee of a past era in a fashion not dissimilar to Pol Pot’s idealogical return to basics. This is just fine if you have a grand plus to invest in purchasing any of the popular 650 twins of the period and then have a similar sum to spend on the modifications needed to turn it into a reliable device for use on todays toads. Unfortunately, most of us are limited to around £500.
It should be remembered that this amount will buy a good CX500, CB550, GT550, GT750 or even a year old MZ250. What type of Brit classic is available for this amount? Read on.
The cheapest on offer is that most common Brit, the Basket Case. A surprisingly large range of machines will be on offer in this category, from large twins at the top of the price limit down to small two strokes for as little as £30. One thing they will all have in common is that not only will they be in pieces but they will also be incomplete. To turn one of these from a large pile of scrap into a useful and working motorcycle will require mechanical expertise, lots of cash, several months, a workshop and the patience of a Soviet housewife. Most major components will need engineering work or replacing - cranks reground, new pistons, rebore, new valves and guides, etc., etc. Missing parts will have to be bought, bodged or specially made. Everything else will need a thorough cleaning and then painting. Basically, basket cases become basket cases because nearly every component has reached the end of its service life.
If all this sounds like your cup of tea then I suggest you opt for for one of the more popular makes like BSA or Triumph and buy the largest bike that you can afford because it costs as much to repair parts for a 250 as a 650. Singles are obviously cheaper to restore than twins as there are fewer parts involved. If I was looking for a Brit to restore and modernise I'd go for one of the later BSA B44s, as parts are readily available and many sensible modifications can be easily purchased. You’d need to pick one up for less than £100 in bits to make it under the £500 limit for a good runner. For me, that kind of time and effort just isn’t on.
The next cheapest option for the classically minded is the non-runner. This will cost more than the box of bits unless you get very lucky. The days of finding Bonnevilles in an old git’s garden shed are long over (but there are plenty of Superdreams and even RD250s). Most non-runners need lots of mechanical attention, not to mention painting, rewiring and MOT testing. After all, if a bike was going to be easy to repair most people would do it themselves and sell it at a much higher price. Only the most optimistic can hope to get away with a quick service - budget for a complete engine rebuild.
The final choice is to acquire something that is actually running. The cheapest bikes are the small two strokes, the most plentiful the ubiquitous BSA Bantam. The last ones are the most useful, although the earlier 125s will appeal to learners but they are very, very slow (wonder if the I75cc engine will fit in the 125 frame? - Ed). The B175 handles quite well but the brakes and lights are appalling. Performance looks good on paper with a top speed of 65 to 70mph but the ludicrously destructive vibes and lethal brakes will keep all but the brave and stupid to a maximum of 50mph.
Two up, the handling falls into the same category as the brakes. Reliability isn‘t too had provided the bike is used very gently and never thrashed. Electrics are absolutely abysmal (mine caught fire twice), the only answer is to modify the whole system and use Jap switches. A running Bantam can be picked up for as little as £70 but don’t pay more than £150. Various other small two strokes can be bought for the same price as a Bantam. They are usually Villiers powered and very unreliable with poor spares availability - best completely ignored.
For around £50 more than the Bantam a four stroke single, like the C15/B40, can be acquired. These bikes have only a marginal performance improvement over the BSA but vibes are worse, breaking most parts not welded to the frame. Reliability is pathetic as the vibes just wreck the engine and dismal electrical system. The best thing that can be said about these bikes is that they are very easy to work on and parts are at least cheap (if nasty). Like the B44, numerous mods can be made to the motor to increase reliability but because of low power output they end up being thrashed, any improvement gained by modification is thus lost. The 250cc version of the B44 should have its own government health warning.
Never buy one. Unfortunately, I did, inspired by a review in one of the classic rags where it was described as the RS250 of its day. An 85mph 250 that commanded classic status seemed too good to miss when I heard of one going for a mere £200. Riding the bike home it felt snatchy and rough below 50mph, smoothed out between 55 and 60mph and vibrated like a jack hammer up to seventy, becoming so fierce that my hands hurt enough to force me to back off down to sixty.
I figured that by altering the carburation I could sort out the low speed running, ending up with a useful 60mph cruiser. But that made no difference so I rebuilt the engine - no sign of wear, I changed. the rings and main bearings just to be on the safe side. Still no difference, not prepared to admit that I’d wasted my time and dosh I decided to run it in for 2000 miles. Not easy, as the clutch went after 280 miles and 50 miles later the exhaust valve burnt out. Dutifully, I replaced them but gave up the idea of running it in for 2000 miles, it was too expensive. Various other items failed or just fell off. Seriously doubting BSA’s claim of an 85mph top speed I decided to put the bike to the test. It failed due to the small matter of the conrod making a break for freedom through the crankcase. Like most small Brits, B25 ownership is really just a diary of misery, depression and train fares.
The final choice is to go the whole way by spending the entire £500 on a classic exotica, the choice widens to include things like AMC singles, Tiger Cubs, 3TAs, 5TAs and B44s. The AMC singles are better than similar BSAs but spare parts are more expensive and less easy to obtain. The Tiger Cub is a massively overpriced C15 and as such suffers the same problems. The B44 is, as already stated, not a particularly bad device as long as it’s had all the necessary mods (don’t mention con-rods to sensitive owners). This leaves the 3/5TA which can be a good but slow bike, especially in 350 form, but the lights, brakes and rear suspension will need to be uprated.
Other larger or rarer bikes may also be available, but for this kind of money the chances of imminent failure are high. Apart from all the individual problems concerning particular models, they will all be suffering from metal fatigue and general wear ’n’ tear from twenty years of abuse, not to mention twenty British winters and summers (remember them). It’ll probably have been rebuilt several times, with varying degrees of care - at least once by someone with little money, and even less engineering knowledge. Nuts and bolts will be chewed up, cross threaded or missing, modifications may or may not have been done...
Spending even more dosh by going to a dealer will not help at all, the bike will just be more highly polished - a lot of dealers seem to employ terms more usually found in the Financial Times (did you hear all the dealers moaning about the performance of their shares a the Classic Bike show? - Ed) that have little relevance to most motorcyclists - rising long term investment, minimum downside, et al.
When I enquired at one establishment about the condition of an immaculate Trials Tiger Cub I was told it wasn’t a machine for riding but for displaying and if it wasn’t used it would double its value in 5 years. Personally, I didn’t believe that any Tiger Cub will ever be worth £1800, but there you go.
Basically, the conclusion to this article is that if you have little money and need basic trans— port it’s best to stay well clear of old Brit bikes. If purchased cheaply enough (£25) they can be useful as a TV weaning device in the winter months whilst you rebuild it as a second bike or sell it to a yuppie poseur at a ridiculously massive profit. No, Jap or even East European bikes just offer so much more for so much less.
In 1984 I acquired a T reg A100 for £190. It was a very nice cherry red and had 10,000 odd miles on the clock The previous owner was a young lady who had recently passed her driving test. It was a good starter and runner, though a little tatty on close inspection - leaky tank, rusty rear mudguard and spokes.
It suffered a flat spot at 40mph, overtaking required a pair of those incontinent pants so frequently advertised in Radio Times - on a good day it'd splutter and then break through to an indicated 55mph, otherwise the engine died and cut in again at 40mph. Consequently, it was ridden mildly most of the time, resulting in 70mpg. it had a hideous rattle on the overrun, but subsequent inspection showed no real wear. so I ignored it. Brake shoes, tyres, chains, etc., required no replacement during my ownership, and maintenance was merely a question of adding oil to the tank.
It was a friendly machine and always started easily despite the English weather (notice I made no distinction between seasons). It bounced along on un-damped fashion in a happy manner and the drum brakes were just adequate for the pathetic performance available.
I once tried to fit pattern points but the slots on the plate bore no resemblance to the holding screw positions. Adjustment of points was impossible due to inscrutable design - points behind rotor, rotor off to get at points, but cam one piece with rotor, no cam to adjust points with.
After passing my test on this reliable mount I sold it for £100 with 17000 miles on the clock.
Well, there I was. Once again without‘a bike. | possessed a red KH250 which had served me very well, but the extreme use I had given the bike had eventually proved too much when the centre pot blew. Despite a rebuild it went again, leaving the crankcase full of little bits of piston.
It was more by luck, and certainly not judgement, that I acquired my second KH250, an S reg, metallic green job with 26000 miles on the clock for £100. The day after I bought the bike I had to rush down to Cardiff from London. I left London at twelve o‘clock, spent an hour trying to get on the M4, by one o'clock I hadn't even cleared Chiswick; yet by three o’clock l'd reached my destination. This may not impress yer average GPZ900 owner, but I was riding a two stroke triple with a dubious reliability reputation. I'd only bought it the day before and hadn't even serviced it. My return journey was even quicker.
Most of my spare time during the next week was spent in stripping down the bike and performing all those little bits of maintenance that keep a bike going. The bearings all the way through seemed to be in good nick. They were re-greased and replaced. The only exception was the one in the rear wheel which had run a little dry, but I got away with repacking it with grease. That may have caused the bike to twitch in fast corners, but to be on the sale side I fitted the Konis off the old bike. The seat was torn but fixed with tape, the battery and plugs replaced. The front end needed a little more work, new oil in the forks and fluid in the brakes in an attempt to cure the sponginess I’d noted in the 300 mile round trip.
This was a very pleasant bike to ride. It could easily be scratched around comers and refused to tie itself in knots. The bike had the pleasant, contented, burble of its kind at 60mph but refused to go beyond 80mph. No amount of tweaking or re-tuning had any effect. The bike gave a definite lurch at 6500rpm and powered away between 65 and 80mph.
The first real problem occurred through my own stupidity. It had a bit of oiling up of the two outer plugs so I dropped into a dealer to pick up replacements. The new plugs fitted, it went like a rocket for two miles, then made a noise like an elephant fart and ground to a halt. Whipping out the plugs proved a little difficult. The damn things wouldn‘t come out of the heads. With care, the bike did start and l was able to nurse it home at 25mph. In the garage, several large hammers were wielded, accompanied by swearing in seven different languages, eventually removing the top end.
The sudden demise was because l’d fitted long reach plugs, the overheating had welded the plugs in and melted the pistons. All the top rings were also cracked - maybe the reason why it didn‘t go over 80mph. A new set of rings combined with the old components I had lying around got the machine back on the road.
I acquired a very cheap 550 so the KH was tucked away in the back of the garage for two years until it caught my attention again, after reading a report in one of the glossies on how to tune up Kawasaki triples. The exhaust and inlet ports were increased in size using a needle file, all sharp edges and comers removed. Two base gaskets per pot were used and the head gasket left out, whilst one millimetre was taken off the top of each barrel by a local engineering firm.
On starting, the engine had a delightful crackle but no power until it hit 7000rpm, then it really moved, a real arm wrencher. The bike could do 105mph on the clock at around 10,000rpm - but couldn't be used in town.
I advertised it in a certain weekly organ for £300. The first young lad to see it fell in love. My next door neighbour conducted the sale in my absence. The kiddie got on it and rode off up the road. He'd been told about the powerband but I don't suppose he knew what it meant. Because he couldn‘t get any grunt out of it twisted the throttle full on.
As the engine hit the powerband the front wheel put itself where the lad's ears had been. The bike careered on for about twenty yards in this fashion until the back guard hit the pavement. The kid paid the money and took the bike away. Half an hour later he brought it back saying that it was unrideable (course it was, he’d just thrown it down the bloody road). My neighbour, in a fit of generosity, let him have the money back bar £50. I almost had a seizure when I came back and found out.
Still. I eventually sold it for spares a month later for £75, l'd refused the guy’s first offer of £100 as I didn't want to rip him off. To be honest, I never really missed the KH250, especially as I had my K3.
One night, whilst in the Student’s Union bar, I caught sight of a promising advert - Honda CJ360T, T reg, 22000 miles, £250ono. In fact, the advert seemed so promising I decided no-one was going to get to see it before myself so pocketed the ad.
At the time, I wasn't sure what a CJ looked like but I figured insurance would be cheapish, running costs low and the price very reasonable for a two year old bike (this was 1981). Grabbing a lift from a mate I went off to see the bike. I wondered what the huge chrome exhaust was doing on a bike, it looked like it should be on one of those big American trucks. Nevertheless, the colour scheme was very smart (red and black), not faded, the chrome shone and the bike started first kick After a test ride and a ritual attempt at getting the price down, a deal was agreed, full price but with various spares thrown in. I suppose I could not complain at the time.
I cant remember much about the first 10,000 miles (very useful - Ed) except that I changed the oil religiously at 1500 mile intervals, filled it with petrol, kept an eye on the camchain tension and rode on. The only fault I can remember was a too small rear Roadrunner which slid far too easily in the rain and took most of a sunny afternoon to remove when it wore out.
Warned by a friend of the regular demise of G5 cylinder heads (the earlier version which had an extra gear, electric start and 2 into 2 exhaust system), I kept a regular check on oil pressure by removing the rear right-hand tappet cover and seeing how much oil was thrown out onto my hand. It works and gives peace of mind, or not.
Between 30,000 and 35000 miles the CJ started to use oil and performance gradually diminished, although fuel consumption remained the same at around 60mpg. Borrowing a mate’s compression tester showed compression well down and, after making sure the valves were not to blame, I resigned myself to the worst. Actually, the engine comes out easily enough and the strip down was routine. I recall the surprise of a perfect cylinder head when I removed the rocker cover as opposed to the heavily tarnished piston skirts when I removed the barrels.
Checking barrels and pistons for wear, I decided I could get by with just new rings — these were duly purchased and installed, no problems and no shock at the price. I did, however, install a new camchain tensioner blade as the original had deep cracks and spat off bits of rubber when I flexed it.
Another 5000 trouble free miles went by, the bike used in all weathers, until one night in a particularly persistent rain fall, it went onto one cylinder, the other showing a mini electrical storm in the dark. We limped home and the next morning I wound insulating tape around the HT lead. This problem kept returning until both leads were covered by PVC tubing (Boots Homebrew syphon tubing). Next, the bike wouldn't run beyond 6000rpm - a split carb diaphragm, which was repaired permanently with Superglue.
Approaching 50,000 miles, the front brake became ineffective and vibration from the previously smooth engine increased dramatically. The loss of effectiveness of the front brake was caused by the caliper pivot pin seizing - it was freed and cleaned. Unfortunately, I didn't look too hard for the cause of the vibration which led to the failure of the big-end, which caused seizure of the engine sufficiently dramatic to nearly throw me over the bars.
Stripping down the engine again revealed a sorry sight - shot big-end and broken piston, its skirt hitting the flywheel, not to mention barrels only fit for scrap. Lady Luck smiled in my hour of need and I bought a complete engine from a local breaker for £50. This was a beauty, better than my original engine and with only 15000 miles under its belt according to the speedo of the bike it came from.
Back on the road, the Koni shocks started leaking oil and were replaced by a pair off (I think) a CB900, these gave adjustable rebound and compression damping with the added benefit of being slightly longer, giving more ground clearance. The original silencer wore out and was replaced with a pattern megaphone which looked good and sounded better. It had, however, a short life, falling off on the local dual carriageway. I stopped the bike and rushed back to see it compressed to half an inch thick under the wheels of a huge artic.
This leads me nicely to my closest escape from the Grim Reaper. The clutch works by a mechanism on the left engine cover, through a push rod to the clutch on the other side of the engine. fine when new, but wears quickly leaving the clutch dragging and no effective adjustment left. One day, stopped in the central reservation of the same dual carriageway, waiting for a space to cross the road when a bolt fell out of the engine cover, letting the clutch engage and shoot me across the road right in front of an artic. The closest l have ever been - the closest I ever want to be - to being a fatality and jam on the road...
The swinging arm was replaced by a chrome plated CB400/4 item (£3 from a breaker) and the front master cylinder replaced by a Suzuki GT750 item which flowed more fluid and saved fingers from being trapped during two finger braking. These were done mainly for personal preference, although I felt they made the bike look better and stop quicker.
Various other mods were made, some working better than others. One of the best was the replacement of the corrugated paper air filter by a foam filter - I cut off the paper and wired oiled polyurethane around the metal body - done because new elements are incredibly expensive and I knew the mod worked well as I did the same to my CB125S.
The bike cruised at seventy, was reasonably economical and if opened up would hold a steady 85mph on the clock until you either came to a hill or got tired of the wind pressure. Acceleration was OK but not startling, which, at least, meant the bike was always easy to control on slippery roads and could even be used without fear on snow covered roads. The bike handled OK, never well, but always controllable without any major exertions. Rear tyres lasted for about 8000 miles, the front tyre I gave up waiting for it to wear out, although it eventually did.
It just seemed as though it was on forever. At the time, Roadrunners were cheap, lasted and gripped as well as any other, although at various times I tried Dunlops, Metzelers and Pirellis. Disc pads lasted about 10,000 miles, the rear shoes were never changed. Chains and sprockets had a short life and i remember difficulty in obtaining a rear sprocket. The electrics were generally reliable but the leads to the rectifier tended to corrode. the first sign being a flat battery.
Overall impressions - well, for the money I paid, the miles covered and the fun I had, I can’t complain. I’d probably have another but not for everyday work - I now run a CX500 which is much better in every department. For care-free fun at the right price, they can be a bargain. Against this, insurance is quite high as it's 356cc and thus over the 350 limit. Running costs are quite low.
Any oil seems to work, there are no oil filters to wear, only one pair of disc pads to change, no fancy tyres needed - you get the general idea? I would not recommend them to everyone, people with some concept of regular maintenance and mechanical sympathy. Yes, all I can say is that I'd probably have another.
I bought my CX because it was cheap. I have never had a great desire to own or ride one. Indeed, I think it was the mysterious movers way of getting even. Who knows, maybe God rides a CX cos he can't afford a Guzzi. You may have realised by now that I have spent more than my fair share of time saying unkind things about them and the people who buy them. In the light of experience I apologise for nothing; it was all true.
The deal was done in the traditional manner - over a pint in the local. The bike had been sat in a garage for two years, but the owner assured me that he could get it to run. I became sceptical when he mentioned that he'd taken a few bits from her, but quickly decided to take a look when he said £80, with a spare engine thrown in.
There it stood in its rusty glory. The frame was fairly tidy, at some time in its life it had been brush painted in dark blue Hammerite. Surprisingly, it did not look so bad, which is more than can be said for the pillar box red hulk of a handlebar fairing whatever reasonable handling characteristics the bike once might have had, they were surely lost the day that thing had been fitted. Who would want to be seen riding it anyway?
The tyres were worn away, I couldn't check the brake pads because there weren't any, the front guard was eaten through with rust at its mounting points (although I filled it and cleaned it up). there were thin layers of rust and copious layers of dust. There was a wooden knock which increased with engine speed - the owner admitted that this was why it had been stored away; they never admit that in the beginning. Perhaps he thought that two years spent getting rusty might have solved the problem?
I thanked the owner and retired to the bottom of the drive to discuss the evidence with a knowledgeable friend. To my mind, selling a used motorcycle always seems like trying to persuade the jury that you're innocent. This looked like a guaranteed conviction. Leaving the melodrama aside. having deduced that the knock was nothing more than a loose cooling fan, the dastardly deed was done.
The whole bike plus spare engine was shoe-homed into the back of a 2CV, resulting in many a bemused stare as we made the 70mph journey home. We then carried both rolling chassis and engines up four flights of stairs so that I could rebuild the bike in the comfort of my bedroom. Before you doubt my sanity, living in a fourth floor flat makes keeping an eye on your ground floor property difficult.
The rebuild was a painless affair. The frame got a new coat of blue Hammerite, mainly for protection rather than looks. The rust that covered everything I attacked with varying grades of wire wool, which is great stuff that always seems to work miracles on grotty metal surfaces, if you don't mind spending the next 24 hours pulling small metal splinters out of your hand.
The exhaust had been made up from what looked like an old pair of down—tubes and a length of hollow metal pipe without any kind of baffling - an old piece of car exhaust was shaped into a baffle and inserted into the length of pipe - the whole system was then sprayed in heat resistant black.
Very little was done to the benched engine. The cooling fan was replaced with a used item. Part worn Metzelers were fitted. The MOT was a formality and I had a working bike for around £130.
The first thing to tail was the front mudguard which is now languishing somewhere on the M1 just outside Nottingham, after departing at 70mph The baffles kept falling out, We now made three and am thinking of welding the last one in; the other two went on the M1 and M40.
Performance, handling, street cred? Don't be silly. It'll sit on the motorway up to about 80mph, it doesn't feel secure or precise, but then for the kind of money I paid out I don't expect it to. A few thousand miles under its belt and guess what happened? Yes, the bloody camchain went, didn't it. Oh well, just have to carry the CX up four flights of stairs again, wonder what I did in a past life to deserve this?
I bought my first MZ after I reluctantly decided in 1981 that my Ariel Arrow might not be up to a 60 mile a day journey, which included 40 miles of motorway. The first couple of times I tried the trip on the Arrow were OK but gradually l got bored with travelling at around 55mph. plus the dark nights showed the Ariel’s lights about as effective as a couple of glow-worms l was reduced to riding in the middle of the road hoping that some following car driver wouldn‘t have the nerve to overtake me and deprive me of the use of his lights.
I had been studying cheap motorcycles in the cheapest manner - just looking for about 2 to 3 years and had decided I might just be able to afford an Iron Curtain offering. l rejected everything under 2500c as being under-powered for adverse conditions. The 02 appeared to be so many tin cans welded together, which left the MZ250 looking something like a quality bike. The TS250 was rejected on the grounds that when a mate had one and traded it in for a Superdream, he reckoned the latter bike was a great improvement. So. it was a Supa Five for me.
I tried to find a good secondhand one, but that was a rare animal. It took quite a while until I was able to acquire one. I discovered at this point that my brain is not very agile - after all I was nearing forty and I found that when quick reactions were required I did some wonderful emergency stops by slamming into first gear.
The bike itself was very light at the front end which also caused me some problems. spoilt, as l was, by the magnificence of the Ariel's handling, but I eventually adapted to its idiosyncrasies I covered about 26000 miles on the Supa Five, and other than the fact that I never did master a quiet. smooth gearchange, it was a good ride. I averaged 80mpg and cruised on the motorway between 65 and 70mph. Other than buying a new drive chain and tyres everything was OK until it had covered about 30,000 miles when it twice jammed in gear.
The first time I was feeling really clever, there was a massive hold up on the motorway and l was weaving my way through the traffic in a most professional manner when ‘in the outer lane I changed gear and promptly stopped. I had to be helped, rather ingloriously, holding the back wheel off the ground, whilst a sympathetic motorist steered the biketo the hard shoulder.
Being a non-mechanical the shop sorted this out - for a consideration. After that it happened again after a few more thousand miles and I got it repaired. After the clutch came adrift from the spline - so I was informed after about 15 miles the shop fixed it again without a charge. Finally, I thought the end might be near when the mechanic started mentioning big-ends and £80 - I decided to run it into the ground.
The end was nigh when one night on the way home I stopped at some lights and a fellow motorcyclist came alongside and said that my engine sounded a mite noisy - funny what you get used to over the months.
However. towards the end of my motorway stretch the engine suddenly went very quiet but proceeded at the same speed for some yards until gradually slowing down - a complete anti-climax.
A non-technical examination a few days later revealed pieces of metal welded to the inside of the cylinder head - end of one motor at 37000 miles. I still hankered fora bike but my financial arguments carried little weight with my own Chancellor of the Exchequer, until one day I saw a snip, an ETZ250 for £250 with 25000 miles on the clock.
The first time I rode it was almost my last, for I just touched the disc front brake - honest - and I felt an almost irresistible desire to hurtle Skyward. Still, l survived my induction period and have now ridden it on the same work journey as its predecessor. On the plus side, the 12V lighting is brilliant on the country lanes. Also, the condenser is now better protected from the spray and hence I only suffer rare breakdowns from water penetration - ever stopped on a motorway entry point with people seemingly aiming vehicles at you from both left and right? Makes you remember the WD40 next time.
It is less skittish on the front and handles better, which could be down to them deciding on wheel sizes. And, perhaps, the tougher bearings and oil pump system may give the engine greater longevity, as I was a bit disappointed with the Supa Five.
On the debit side, the fuel consumption is down by 20mpg for the same performance and the bike is much less tractable in traffic as it won't pull below 3000mm. The claimed improvement in mid-range acceleration I haven't noticed.
I would have preferred the older engine with autolube in the newer chassis with a less fierce disc brake, but beggars can't be choosers and for cheap motorcycling this must be pretty good value.
CZ250 twin, 4000 miles. good condition, £140. That was the advert that introduced me to CZs. I'm on my third one now and reckon ! know them pretty well. That first one was a beauty - smart, fast and reliable. it would cruise in the mid-seventies, overtake in the mid-eighties and drop down hills in the low nineties. For a year it took me all over the country to rallies and camping holidays, two-up and loaded with gear and did everything I asked of it without complaint. That bike came to a sad end, however, when some drunken revellers put a match to it in the lay-by where I‘d left it whilst doing a night trunk run as a drivers mate. The fire brigade were called but presumably went the long way around as it was burnt out by the time they arrived. The petrol pipes had been pulled off and the petrol ignited at ground level, assisted by a coating of 2-stroke oil they'd found in the top box after smashing it open. Everything that wasn't metal perished. l pushed home what was left of the bike, the last mile downhill so I sat on the thing as final gesture of defiance. Word of this calamity got around and a friend of a friend had a friend who’s friend had a CZ twin which he never used and which I could have for £100. This second one was almost identical in appearance and performance. I would ride around hoping that the bastards who had ignited the first bike would turn up. Mind you, the second bike (four years and 5000 miles old) didn't have the guts of the first, seizing up when I tried to cruise along a motorway at 75mph. Fortunately, the road was straight and dry, she slid in a perfectly straight line, giving me time to pull in the clutch and pull safely onto the hard shoulder. By the time we (my son was on the pillion) had rolled and smoked a couple of fags, and exchanged pleasantries with two or three bikers who stopped to offer assistance, the engine had cooled sufficiently to fire up and complete the rest of the journey (about 30 miles). An investigation showed both pistons distorted, the rings trapped solidly in their grooves. Tapping out the first gudgeon pin released a torrent of needle rollers, most falling straight into the crankcase! Loads of rags were stuffed into the crankcase for the second one. Fishing the needles out of the engine was a fairly simple job using assorted pieces of wood and a magnet. The pistons from my burnt out machine were used in the second bike. There is only one way of easily and efficiently fitting pistons with small-ends consisting of individual rollers, but I don‘t know what it is - I had to buy a pair of roller cages from a CZ shop (about a fiver each) and have used these ever since. With these, everything went together quickly and the bike was ready to roll again... It rolled about six feet and came to a sudden halt with a frightening noise of breaking metal. Another investigation revealed that I had not retrieved all the roller needles and the ones left behind had been thrown up by the rotation of the crank and done unpleasant things to the pistons. I now had needles, bits of pistons and circlips in my crankcase. At this point, I must warn all CZ owners to expect needle rollers to spray all over the place when removing pistons - and to count 28 per cylinder to make sure they've got them all. Should any of these or any foreign bodies - find their way into the crank, the only sure way of clearing it out is to flush it (the CZ shop recommend using petrol but I found thick oil more effective), turn the engine upside down and turn it over several times: then leave it for a few hours to let the oil drain out. Anyway, there I was through folly and lack of foresight with a well knackered engine. Whilst contemplating my next move, one of my kids rushed home waving a local rag with an ad for - wait for it - a CZ250 twin, 3500 miles, £35! I figured this had to be a wreck, but the engine couldn‘t be in a worse state than mine - so it might be worth having a look at. The next bit reads like a fairy story but i know it was true 'cos I was there. He'd bought a brand new CZ250, ridden it for 3500 miles, put it in the back of his garage for 12 years covered up (during which time he'd kept the battery fully charged), then decided to get rid of it as he needed the garage space. I went, i looked and i bought. With the battery installed it started after three kicks and I was able to ride it home. After a quick visual examination, I emptied the tank of its stale petrol/ oil mixture and wiped the bike over to remove cobwebs. Half an hour later I’d acquired a test certificate. I had already decided that this vehicle was to take over as number one machine - 15000 miles and four years later it’s still that. It was a cute, old fashioned looking bike, even by CZ standards. Painted in two-tone green (the only one I've seen like it) and with a long square headlight shell which housed the ignition switch and winker relay, it looks a lot older than its R registration suggests. Its performance isn't a patch on the other two twins, even though its specification is identical.
lt'll just about top 70mph on the level and seldom graduates from the slow lane on motorways. But I love it! It’s reliable and comfortable, economical and easy to ride. What it lacks in » open road performance it makes up for in bottom end nippiness. It's the easiest bike on the road for home maintenance (save when you remove the pistons). Decoking is easy as the heads and barrels come off without moving the single carb which bolts direct to the crankcase. Two screws undo the side case for access to the points, ignition timing is a fag paper job. The single carb doesn't need touching, though it does no harm to dismantle it from time to time. It's very easy to forget to check or change the gearbox oil, so I just forget it. The stop light switch has the amusing habit of letting in water and jamming on, the light then drains the battery - but it can be dismantled. Another item worth checking on the newer models is the switch box (ignition and lighting) remove it and make sure the various cables are well connected, cut off frayed ends and reconnect if necessary, then tighten down all the screws to ensure good contact and screw it back firmly in place. All the other maintenance operations are very much self evident and straightforward. The bike is very adaptable, living on the cheap I bought a Roadrunner from a friend for a couple of quid, it worked well despite being much larger than the recommended size. The rubber grommet from the headlight of a GP100 sliced in two makes two perfect seals for the joint where the down-pipes slide into the silencers. I know CZs don't enjoy a good reputation - but I cant understand why?They’re not fast and they're not racy looking. But they are solid, hold the road well, parts are really cheap, repairs require very little time and few tools - and they never get stolen. We read somewhere that these machines are OK if one is blind, deaf and have no money - do you know where I can get a white stick cheap? Terry Donovan
