If I was on a shrink's couch he would've told me that my desire to own a road going moto-crosser was revenge for seven years of L-plate infliction which the politicians had enforced upon me but the truth was all my mates had got them so I wanted one.
Within days of passing my test the Honda NSR125 was dumped on to the local back street dealer, complete with a big-end bearing that sounded like two skeletons shagging in a dustbin. Why he never asked me to start it up I don't know but I grabbed the cash and made a dash for it.
After a quick perusal of a well known trials publication, a Kawasaki KDX200 turned up on a farm not too far from where I live. Cash in hand I dashed off. The owner was quite open about the fact that the bike had been heavily raced and had won its fair share of trophies. His workshop was immaculate and there was just that air that everything was going to be alright.
It was mine for £750, fifty quid less than the asking price if | got my own MOT, complete with spare piston, two sets of front disc pads and a workshop manual. A friend of mine rode the bike home as I followed. I was itching to get on the beast but had to wait until I was semi-legal.
Much to my surprise it passed the MOT second time round after changing the rear wheel bearings and the addition of copious amounts of masking tape to the front and back lights to blank them off. The bearings cost nearly thirty quid as there were three of them residing in the wheel. The tape was free from the tester, so, all in all, it cost £820 on the road, ready to go.
It was obvious right from the start that life aboard a road going enduro bike was going to be fun. Even a 26 mile trip to work each day was transformed into a mini Paris Dakar. If the attention the bike commanded from other motorists was anything to go by, the first plod that saw me was going to have a cardiac on the spot and his colleagues would bang me up forever.
The KDX has legendary reliability amongst the enduro fraternity (especially in air cooled form, like mine) and in eight months only let me down twice. Both times were more due to my lack of detailed checks than anything the Big K did wrong. The first time was when the KIPS valve fell to pieces leaving me completely stranded. Application of a screwdriver and Loctite solved this one.
The second time was nearly terminal as all four of the screws holding the reed valve block fell out but luckily stayed in the inlet tract until I withdrew the assembly when they promptly fell into the cylinder, seizing the engine. A magnetic screwdriver and divine intervention saved the day, much to my relief.
Night-time journeys were an absolute nightmare due to the pathetic candle-like glow emitted by the six volt system. 33W in total, 25 of which went to the headlamp, leaving sod all for the back end. My solution was to scrounge an old dry rechargeable battery from work, fit it behind the headlamp cowl and use this for back up. The battery was well up to the vibes as it was originally off a helicopter and it effected a cure, of sorts, but I never really had satisfactory forward vision in the dark.
Tyre wear was quite high, exact mileage being hard to gauge as a speedo was an expensive luxury I couldn't be bothered to fit, although part worn ones could be bought from a breaker for about a tenner. Application of sand paper and a scalpel soon had the 'Not for Highway Use' markings erased. The handling on tarmac was akin to riding on marbles but their off road progress made up for this.
The reason the previous owner had been so generous with the disc pads soon became all too obvious when they wore out at an alarming rate. Rear shoes seemed to last forever, which in a drum with as much feel and power as the KDX's was rather surprising.
The bike was quite practical, despite its faults, and easily cleaned and brought up to a mean green glow with the use of scouring powder (all the bodywork including the tank being made of plastic) and plenty of elbow grease. Maintenance was a breeze check all the nuts and bolts for tightness, squirt oil here and there and cram loads of grease into the generously provided nipples. Oil was changed every month and the air filter washed out and re-oiled at the same time.
Fuel consumption wasn't too bad for a stroker engine so highly tuned, around 35mpg I'd guess with good quality two stroke oil being added to ensure adequate lubrication, the oil itself taking up a large chunk of my budget.
Not once did I get pulled for a roadside chat, even though I work next to the police traffic HQ. I came close one day after a marathon quarry bashing session, both the bike and I were covered in sandy mud, the small number plate totally obscured and long strands of grass hanging from the buckles of my boots. I had about as much idea of my velocity as a speeding member of the royal family but, lo and behold, when the cop car cruised past he kept going. It must've been his tea break or my guardian angel was on a double shift.
The cycle parts stood up to the passage of time quite well, the alloy parts were well chunky and a quick polish kept the white rash at bay. There was no paintwork to worry about, and, anyway, a dirty enduro bike merely looks the part.
The time to move on to pastures new was heralded by total brake failure whilst I was bombing around a sand filled quarry. It wasn't the only thing that was filled, I can tell you. Closer inspection revealed a warped front disc and an oval rear drum. A quick call to the breaker turned up nothing except a quote big enough to scare a Bolivian coke dealer. All this combined with the fact that, even at 25 years old, I couldn't get fire and theft cover without selling one of the kids, meant it had to go.
To be fair to the bike, it had suffered a hard life, being thrashed by a demented farmer and was due for a major refit in the brake department, not to mention chain and sprockets (the chain was so loose it would've been more use on a forklift truck) but an offer of £650 was too good to turn down.
Would I buy another? Yes, if the price was right. I've now got a 1980 Suzuki PE175, yet again a full blown enduro bike picked up for £225 with a monstrous rattle from the crank. Spares seem cheaper than for the Kwacker and the twin shock layout makes it a lot simpler than the potentially expensive Uni-Trak. It's in a hundred bits at the moment but should be ready for summer.
Don't dismiss enduros out of hand, especially if you live in the country. They can repay a modest outlay with unlimited grins unless, that is, a woolly hatted hiker and his chums get hold of you.
Mark Hough