Biking on the Dole

It’s easy to stare into a showroom window and work out if you can afford the latest 16 valve, DOHC hi-tech projectile from the Orient when you've a steady, well paid job. Even your average enthusiast with no more than a few GCSEs from the local comprehensive knows in his mind that he’d have to pawn the family heirlooms just to get it on the road.

So what does Mr Unemployed do with his grubby UB40 in his pocket? He takes the line of least resistance and saunters off home to dream of getting a job and then walking into same showroom clutching handfuls of hard earned pound notes to buy said piece of machinery.

Living in Thatcher’s Britain one soon faces up to stark reality. No jobs, unless you fancy being a magician’s assistant or, worse still, a commission only double glazing salesman. Mr Unemployed with time on his hands, begins to think back to days gone by and the open road, the times of setting out, confident his trusty mount will give him a days cheap pleasure - he'll forget broken chains, fouled up plugs or burnt out electrics.

Back to reality, endless repeats of Minder or watching Steve Davis scoop another £30000 for a nights work. If you actually own the TV set, throw it away, preferably just after Grandstand has shown the bike racing from Mallory Park. If you rent the set simply turn off and return to the shop. You are now free of distraction and monthly TV payments.

Time to seriously think of getting back on the road. The secret of biking on the dole is not explained in a £20 'How To...' manual, the likes of which grace the pages of Exchange & Mart, but in your own head. Stop thinking Suzuki GS1000 and start thinking CZ125. Shock over, actually go out and start looking. Maybe it will turn out fruitless, maybe it won’t.

Thus it came to pass on a cold December night that I’m pushing an X reg CZ125 (or rather the remains of) back home to my shed. It cost me £25 and for no apparent reason but good luck it had nine months MOT. After a sleepless night (well I had blown £25 dole money after all) I surveyed the wreck I’d proudly pushed two miles the night before. A worn rear tyre, a sprocket so worn you'd need a microscope to find any teeth on it and an exhaust system from a Puch Maxi, sort of wired on, to act as a deterrent to local Panda drivers. On the plus side, it was only four days to signing on again.

Those four days were put to good use. No, not taking up JobCentre offers of training to be a moron or finding a thousand pounds by way of a loan to open my own scrap CZ centre, but by stripping down said CZ prior to a total rebuild. The frame was totally devoid of paint, the electrics a spiders web of wires, sticky tape and sellotape, and a main engine bearing shot to pieces, So much for my good idea of biking on the dole.

Fortune, good luck, call it what you like, but my local friendly dole office informed me I’d some tax to come back from last year. Armed with new found confidence and money in pocket, I approached my local breaker. Disappointment, no CZs. Never seen any, says he. Improvisation comes to the fore. A seat from a CB125, Koni shocks of unknown origin and a piece of sheet metal for the exhaust heat shield and sidepanels, saw me £15 poorer.

The frame looked much better just in primer, a coat of black Valspar and it positively glowed (yeah, honestly). The swinging arm appeared OK - well it didn’t move so it was either alright or rusted solid, A quick look at the brake shoes revealed sufficient meat on the shoes in light of the expected performance.

By now I was on first name terms with my local breaker, which was just as well when he quoted £ 19 for a good used Pirelli tyre. Back to basics, I figured, swallow pride and barter and beg - what a waste of energy; £19 take it or leave it. I left it. A friend who knew a friend of a friend acquired a brand new tyre, no questions asked, for a tenner, squire, I did have to fit it myself, but I managed it over a dustbin with help from a bemused neighbour. Doesn’t time on the dole fly by when you're enjoying yourself.

The electrical system (or lack of it) was remade from an old car wiring loom and the purchase of a Wipac light/horn assembly (usually worn by a Bantam). The electrics were so poor that if you pressed the horn the engine died. The wheel rims were painted with gold Humbrol enamel. After much thought and the odd clout with a large hammer, the Honda seat and Koni shocks were made to fit.

I actually had enough cash to pay the local bike shop to rebuild the bottom end, but once that was done I was out of money and had to wait two weeks to sign on. I did venture out to the shed one cold night, tape measure in hand to measure the front exhaust pipe.

I’d been idly thumbing through MCN when I came across an advert from a firm specialising in expansion chambers for sports mopeds, GP100s, etc. I wrote them a letter, explaining that if they gave me a free expansion chamber I’d willingly distribute leaflets for their products. I sent the letter and forgot all about the crazy idea.

Obtained rear sprocket and chain via MCN ad for £15, quite reasonable ’cos the dealer threw in original CZ transfers and handbook - probably glad to see back end of said goods gathering dust on his shelves. I decoked the head, cleaned up the ports with emery cloth (DIY gas flowing on the cheap) and put the CZ engine where it belonged. No, not in the skip but in the frame.

Out of the blue arrived three parcels. Two contained leaflets which I faithfully distributed (can’t say where, the firm may recognize me), the third contained a shiny chrome expansion chamber the right size to hook up to my front pipe, after I’d cut and re-welded it into an Enduro style high level system. I made a heat shield from the sheet metal and bolted it all up.

I was on the road. Six weeks and £100 later I was biking on the dole. The CZ was bloody awful. The 11hp output could push the CZ no faster than 50mph. Which was just as well because the lights were non-existent and the gearbox selected gears as and when it felt like it. The kickstart spring broke after the third kick. It did about 7Smpg, which was its best feature. The expansion chamber sounded racy but there was nothing else too inspiring about the CZ.

I took comfort that I could take to the open road even if GS1000s went by me as if I was standing still, and I no longer had to walk to the dole office. Now I’m off to the JobCentre - I’ve decided I want a new bike after all.

G. D. Bellamy