Kawasaki GPz305

The GPz305 was bought from a backstreet deaker (first mistake). He was very easy to knock down on the price and accepted my offer of £700 instead of £900 straight away (second mistake). I had a test ride and returned to him and he said no warranty (third mistake).

The bike was newer, smoother and quicker than my CJ250 Honda, so I rode off into the dust feeling rather happy with myself. The CJ had the Honda illness of camchain demise and had just rejected a transplant.

The Kawasaki went well for about two weeks then I noticed that all the oil had disappeared. Then the rings went with lots of smoke. I noticed that the camshaft was slightly worn but left it alone after replacing the rings. The bike was still consuming more oil than anything else.

On one motorway trip it started to backfire and wouldn't start after I left it to cool for an hour. I bumped it down a hill and the motor exploded into life with a terrible noise. It was rough, slow and would only go up to third, and later second gear. I was well pissed off by the time I had coaxed the machine home.

When I took the head off most of the metal bits, including the camchain, had turned blue. The cam lobes were a work of mechanical wreakage, teardrop shaped with large gouges in them. Part of the camchain links had tore apart and stuck out like a chainsaw blade, having cut the barrel, guides and cover into interesting pieces of near scrap metal. I replaced the parts with slightly worn bits from a breaker (thirty instead of three hundred quid quoted by the dealer) but they still rattled away furiously and consumed oil crazily.

The cams were worn again by the time an oil change came around, the gudgeon pins had lost 3mm in diameter and I had another chainsaw blade whizzing around in the engine looking for more carnage. More parts were replaced. A local bike shop told me to ensure oil could get into the top half of the engine easily. This I did, but the thing was rattling again within a week. I told myself to lose the bike and claim on the insurance. I put it in the back of our shed and spent my last pennies on getting the CJ back into service.

Time passed, I had an £800 overdraft and I needed a better bike. A friend was boasting pabout his brand new bike, a GSXR750, so I went for a ride on the back and was suitably impressed. Over a beer, he told me that a mate had a GPz305 for sale that only needed a little work....an '84 job with only 4500 miles on the clock with a bent front wheel.

It handled really bad, imagine riding with no spacers on the front spindle, a bald, flat tyre and holding a Kango hammer in your mouth. But the motor purred and it was only £350.

Even after replacing the front wheel it didn't handle perfectly. The bike felt very safe and nimble up to about 80mph but then it would wobble and weave up to 90mph. It was bad enough to make you slow down and never do it again. I am not a very confident person and going fast gets me thinking about deer jumping from behind trees and snapping belt drives.

The tyres were half worn Roadrunners, very good in a straight line and lasted for 4000 miles. The corners were a different ballgame, though. Over 60mph on those A roads with long sweeping bends caused the bike to wallow all over the place. Hit a drain cover or a tar strip and it would weave and wobble enough to make you start praying. Two up you had the genuine brown trouser effect.

The engine got oil and filter changes between 1500 and 2000 miles, and never complained. I did the valve clearances once. Two up, it would cruise at seventy. Mostly, it was ridden on B type roads as the ride was nicer than the main routes, but care was needed on tight bends because of the handling. I never liked the belt drive but, saying that, it was very good, only needing minimal adjustment at each service.

It was the front sprocket that caused the problems. Typically we were late, rushing from London to get to work by six. The suburbs were clear and good time was being made in the fresh spring morning air. Pulling away from some traffic lights there was a crunch of metal and then the engine screamed. I changed up and down the box to no effect.

Stopping found the rear belt loose. The cheap Jap screws holding the side casing rounded off as soon as they saw a screwdriver but we got it off in the end. The sprocket was there but the nut was not, the retaining washer had rounded off in the centre allowing the nut to spin.

A new one was done up as tight as possible with a copious quantity of Loctite. 200 miles later the same thing happened again only this time everything locked up. Brilliant fun! The belt survived but the side casing was broken.

I became very confident on the bike and was soon throwing the thing around bends and thrashing the little engine everywhere. This was mostly two up and 50 miles at a time. Servicing came and went every three weeks and I spent that bit extra on good quality filters and oil. The reward was a reliable motor. However, the tyres were wearing out again, the pads were down to the rivets and the cam had just started tapping a tad - I started looking for a bigger bike.

One thing I would certainly miss - the 305 is so narrow that I could infuriate car drivers by weaving through the tiniest gap in traffic jams - they open doors and chuck things through the window at you but the little GPz pulls through.The overall finish is good, the frame had lost a lot of paint in the crash but the rust didn't get worse. The tank and sidepanels still shone although the alloy wheels didn't.

Keeping up with my own bad luck I dropped it. Not heavily and it could have been a lot worse. The road must have been built by a man with a 305, it was perfect. A straight then a sharp, twisty section with wire fences instead of kerbs. A sharp S bend with a humped railway bridge in the middle. Into a right then a 100 yard forest straight, 50 yard hairpin then slowing into a another right. A tractor must have come out of the forest and covered the road with leaves. Quick as a flash, the bike was gone, spinning up the road. I was sliding in the mud then into a ditch. I was fine, the bike had only broken an indicator. I got on my way before anyone saw me.

The sprocket came off again soon after. A roundabout near Ewell in Surrey. Fortunately I was going slowly. All that was needed was a well placed boot on the tarmac. It was the walk that pissed me off. That was it, the GPz and I had fallen out seriously.

I found a GT550 in a dealers. The mechanic tore into the 305, ending up by breaking off the sidestand. The list included bald tyres, worn brake pads and shoes, loose steering, rotted baffles, tatty tank and seat, leaking head gasket and an optimistic mileage (19000). He made it sound like a death trap not worth a sod but he allowed me £800 against the GT's £1800.

Summing up, for this particular GPz305 I can't say too much in complaint. They are good transport solo, cheap to insure, good on tyres and brake pads, reasonably good on handling and fairly nippy. They don't drink much petrol either. The major problem areas are the two up handling and long distance work. I personally wouldn't go looking for another but someone who has just got Part Two should take a look. Glad I had mine, even happier that I sold it at a good profit!

Brendan Fell

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My mates told me I was a mad moron to buy a three year old GPz305 at top price. They had a bit of a rep for falling apart once past 25,000 miles, something my still shiny machine was a mere 400 miles off achieving. But the brief test ride had revealed a light machine that shot up to 90mph as I played silly buggers on the six speed gearbox and the throttle. The engine was a lot quieter and smoother than the rattly AR125 I'd just flogged off, so I couldn't resist the deal.

The first week of commuting, evening scratching and weekend hooliganism was all it took to break through the 25000 mile barrier. I was enjoying myself so much I could hardly bear to get off the machine at the end of a day's riding. The joys of a new motorcycle and all that. My only complaints during that first week were that the riding position was too cramped to be comfortable for more than 75 miles in a sitting and that the headlamp led to severe eye strain on unlit country lanes at night.

It wasn't until it rained that I became really uncomfortable. The tyres, Avons with about 2mm of tread, liked to wander all over the wet tarmac and the front brake became all grabby, which sent the tyre into some wild slides. Only the light mass allowed me to survive. The suspension was stiffened up from stock, giving a nice taut feel with lots of feedback from the road, which also helped with the ease of control. Mass is only 330lbs, the GPz feeling even lighter on the road.

I splashed out on a set of Metz's and attacked the calipers with blowtorch and large hammer. The resulting pile of alloy scrap was useful for throwing at next door's dog but not much else. A new set of calipers off a one year old crashed GPz went straight on, had lots of meat on the pads. When everything was reassembled the road holding felt way better but the brake was as mushy as a school dinner.

The rubber hose was dribbling like a drunk seventy year old, the rubber must've gone hard and cracked up when I left the calipers hanging off it. Goodridge hose cost a bundle but I assured myself that it had maximum pose value. That got the brakes working but they were still a bit nasty in the wet, dead easy to lock up the front wheel with hardly any effort.

In the dry I used to impress the city centre louts no end, howling the tyre to a dead stop with the back wheel a few feet in the air, which belied the rather sedate lines and boring paint job. With only 35 horses on hand, doing wild wheelies required 10,000 revs, dropping the clutch dead and jerking viciously on the bars. The clutch made such disgusting noises that I soon stopped this practice.

The reluctance towards doing wheelies was probably down to the neutral weight distribution, which made riding the Kawasaki as natural as leaping up and down on the girlfriend. She was, by the way, quite impressed with the pillion accommodation, but then her earlier experiences had been on the minimally padded AR whose tingles did absolutely nothing for her. My perch was a couple of inches lower but she was a lot smaller that me, so wasn't affected by wind buffeting.

I thought that the belt drive was rather neat, making the OHC vertical twin seem smoother than it really was and undoubtedly helping the gearchange action, which was still precise. I was less impressed when the damn thing broke at 26,200 miles. At least the belt material refrained from wrecking the alloy engine. After a muscle building push I found out, whilst poking around at the back end, that the swinging arm and Uni-trak bushes had developed a bit of slop.

Big hammer time. My mates found the expense of the renovation hilarious, over a 150 smackers. As well as a new belt and bushes, the spindles were well pitted, due to an absence of grease that would get a health freak high. The swinging arm needed some cleaning and painting whilst the drum's lining's looked on their way out (I made a note never to use the back brake other than in dire emergencies).

The thing was, after a week off the road I was suffering terrible withdrawal symptoms. The only way I could get my highway kicks was to go pillion on the back of so-called friends' bikes, an experience I hated almost as much as I loved motorcycling. It was an education in humility, as it made me realise I wasn't really the mad nutter I thought I was - or perhaps they rode like that only with a pillion on board. The only way I survived was by using the dubious logic that they surely didn't really want to kill themselves.

I was really full of myself once the 305 was back on the road. Roared along 200 miles of near deserted country lanes, taking the little beast to 11000rpm, where the engine seemed to stutter and threaten to go dead, but I booted up a gear before it had a chance to develop into anything terminal. There aren't any balancers in the engine, but with the pistons going up and down alternatively I found it acceptably smooth at 40 to 90mph in top gear.

Top speed seemed to be dead on the ton, there's very little that can be done to make it go any faster, not that the wimpy handlebar fairing encourages more than 80mph cruising, something the engine will do for hours on end. Fuel proved surprisingly good, better than the old AR, with about 70mpg possible under quite reasonable speeding. Lurid throttle work would get it down to about 60mpg, but that still gave a range of around 200 miles, which was really more than I'd want to do in one sitting. My mates wouldn't believe I could have so much fun for so little cost!

Anyone who's owned a GPz305 for a while will probably be smirking to himself at this point, full of stories of engine blow-ups. My mates were absolutely convinced that it wouldn't last past 30,000 miles, especially as I was riding it hard to keep up with their much bigger middleweights. I figured that they were just pissed that such an old fashioned motorcycle was able to keep up with them, thanks to too many speed cops and the nimbleness of the chassis on any road with a few curves.

I was heeling the GPz over so far I was taking chunks out of the silencers, the stands having already being cut away. Rust had broken out where the protective black paint was scraped off, quickly spreading the whole length of the silencers. On one corner the scraping sounds gave way to grating, explosive exhaust noise drowning out everything. I'd knocked off a whole silencer. There wasn't enough metal left to try to hammer the silencer back on, so the ride home was ear and window shattering. As well as that I had to contend with screaming kids throwing bricks (I blame TV) and snarling dogs trying to take chunks out of my ankles (I blame their owners).

The other side was about to fall off as well, so I was quite happy to hand the breaker twenty notes for a used 2-1 (Motad, I think). This seemed to add a bit of midrange and allowed all of 105mph on the clock without blowing my eardrums. The only problem I had was with the mounting screws stripping in the engine when I tried to get the old exhaust off. The Helicoil horrors followed.

That was at 31,300 miles. I did a service every 1000 miles, including an oil and filter change. The oil came out black and murky but without any metal fillings. The engine was still quite rattle free at that mileage. My mates sullenly reckoned that it must've been rebuilt just before I'd bought it. The engine failed at 33,500 miles, when the ignition module went dead. I'd assumed it was just the spark plugs, but no hope of such an easy solution. Thirty notes to a breaker 300 miles away secured a working unit and the advice to add enough rubber to keep Malaysian peasants in happy employment.

Then at 35000 miles the belt drive snapped again. The Kawasaki dealer reckoned that 20,000 miles was about right but accused me of misaligning the back wheel when I went back to complain. If I wanted to pay fifty quid extra for his well trained mechanics to fit the next one and bring the bike in for regular check-ups he might consider guaranteeing it for a reasonable mileage. I told him where to get off, bought a replacement from a breaker for £15. Anyone who's ever tried to buy a straight piece of wood will know what a waste of time that is, so I went by the markings on the adjusters.

I was becoming pretty pissed by then as the engine was beginning to make the handlebars vibrate. My mate in the building trade came around and emptied a tube of silicone sealant inside the bars, which helped damp down the vibes above 7000 revs. Sounds weird, but the rubber-like material changed the frequency at which the bars vibrated in sympathy with the engine.

The clever thing to do would have been to sell it then whilst it was still running well, but even if I got a reasonable price I wouldn't have been able to buy anything better. It took until we ran through the 40,000 mile barrier for the rattles to become so loud and the power so poor that I had to pull the motor out. As well as shot camchain, valves, rings and bores, the big-ends were loose enough to slip a nail through. So that was the end of that 1990 engine but the beginning of a new life for the chassis as I'd put in a 2000 mile old 1994 unit. Didn't tell my mates, told them I'd just put in a new tensioner. I'd bet their jaws will sag when I put 60,000 miles on the clock. They can't believe how well she goes now.

So that's life with Kawasaki's GPz305. They're great fun to ride without destroying consumables at a rapid rate. Just capable of touring on the motorway, they are also something of a giant killer on the back roads. A really nice one will cost less than £1500 but something that still runs can be had for less than £500.

Brian Griffiths

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The only way to ride the little Kawasaki fast was with the throttle to the stop. Six speeds, 36 horses and 335lbs made it a nice little hustle when in the mood. It'd run at low revs but below 7000rpm felt more like a commuter than a 305cc OHC twin. The front end was a touch twitchy whilst the rear Uni-track verged on the loose, but I found it an easy bike to control. Well, my previous motorcycle was a crazy Kawasaki H1!

I'd off-loaded that device for an extravagant load of dosh, some of which went on a new GPz305. I was feeling rich and couldn't face running about like a madman trying to find that elusive bargain. Running in for a 1000 miles was incredibly boring after the H1 but at least it stopped the hair loss and shaking hands that had resulted from a year on the stroker triple.

In the end I'd done the London to Edinburgh motorway trawl in the slow lane over a weekend. That sorted out the running in but I'd spent so much time in the saddle that I developed piles - at the tender age of 19! That defines the comfort level of the GPz. Good for the first 75 miles then hell on earth. Why it was quite so bad on the arse I don't know, as the riding position was rather sensible. Waggling around Edinburgh in some discomfort I soon found it best to dump the leather in the hotel. Otherwise, some gay-boys trailed around after me, offering obscene suggestions as to how I was spending my nights. Ugh! It was pretty obvious why Scotland had such a high AIDS infection rate.

Once the running in was complete it was all systems go, or throttle to the stop for the next year and 21000 miles. The mill gave every impression of thriving on such abuse and after I'd changed the tyres for Metzelers stability and handling provoked no cause for complaint.

The finish did, though. Show a GPz305 an English winter and I'll show you a bike that looks ten times its real age. It almost made me cry with despair the way the Kawasaki lost its sheen the first time salted roads were encountered. Jet-washing just added to the carnage, causing paint to flake off the frame. I gave up in the end as it still ran as good as ever. In the spring I had to spend a whole week going over the machine to get it back up to scratch - ie looking like a mere five year old bike. Tarnished wheels and engine alloy proved the most difficult areas.

I consoled myself by caressing my secret weapon. No, not that, my project bike. A turbo-charged Z1 motor in a Rickman frame. Beautiful but proving impossible to get together. That's the problem with experiencing H1 kicks, you're never happy again until you find something even more excessive and just plain dangerous.

By the time 25000 miles were on the GPz305's faded clock, I was really annoyed. Clouds of burnt oil spewing out of the rusted silencers, reminding me of happy days on the H1. I thought I had a pact with the GPz, I would put up with its performance and quick rust nature in return for total reliability and extravagant longevity. I couldn't be bothered pulling the motor apart, brought a 4000 miler from the breaker. That bike looked like it'd slid off the road because of its bald front tyre. The breaker refused to take my engine in part exchange, reckoned there was sod all left that was salvageable but good naturedly accepted it for free when I did the swap in his lane. Probably flog it off as prime meat to some unsuspecting punter.

I thought I'd been ripped off when the bike went up in flames as I was screaming along flat out in third. I had to make a very dangerous move through the traffic to get off the road; had the police been around they would have thrown the book at me! I half-heartedly dabbed at the engine with my leather gloves, but after a minute or so the flames went out. The singed frame and melted sidepanel did not add to its sartorial elegance. A couple of wires were trapped between engine and frame, shorting out.

I felt pretty lucky to have avoided being run down by the traffic or burnt alive, but such euphoria only lasted for about five miles. The shorting out had blown the alternator and rectifier, as well as traumatizing the battery. I only realised this when the motor started to stutter, finally failing about two miles from home. It was a long, long push. The alternative was leaving the bike in the midst of a council estate that was as large as it was notorious.

The breaker was reluctant to let me have my old alternator for free but gave in when I agreed to pay an extortionate amount for a battery and rectifier. My revenge (on the GPz not, alas, the breaker) was 20,000 miles of merciless thrashing and neglect. It was the same story as before with the motor running well until 25000 miles when the exhaust began smoking and the engine rattled.

Only the second time around I'd had to fit nearly new silencers, calipers, petrol tank and seat, as the old ones had all rotted through after about 35000 miles. The wheels looked like they were about to corrode through whilst the Uni-track linkages and bearings were both loose and seized up at the same time. Because of my apprenticeship on the H1, even in such a dilapidated state I couldn't really say that the handling was that bad!

I left the suspension alone until the second engine blew up. This time I ran it right into the ground, the end coming with a massive detonation - my life saved by a quick clutch hand. What was left of the con-rods were poking out of the holes in the crankcases. I've never done that to an engine before and felt a great sense of accomplishment.

The turbo project had been abandoned when I realised it wouldn't work unless I manufactured a new cylinder head. In disgust I'd sold off the bits, leaving a big hole in my heart and my garage. To distract myself I took the GPz down to the frame, having secured a third engine, a GPz550 front end and a nearly new set of Uni-track bearings and spindles, as well as a Hagon shock. I really went to work on the bike, ending up with the smartest 305 in town!

Until the motor started. I'd been done, hadn't I. The breaker assured me it was a 6000 miler but the way it smoked and made a noise like a worn out H1 there was no way it could've done less than 26000 miles. When I pointed this out to the breaker he just laughed at me, went to release his mammoth sized Alsatian. I got out of there fast, figuring I could always firebomb it in the night, with the dog locked inside.

For the next week I went around full of violence and anger, staring down much bigger guys than myself, just willing someone to start a fight. A friend took pity on me by loaning his ZX-10 for a long weekend of highway abuse. After that I was ready for anything, even stripping down a GPz305 motor. The cylinder head was a mess but the rest of the motor was sound. Another breaker was persuaded to swap the head for a good one plus fifty quid. The motor's rather simple to work on but the price of a new gasket set left me gasping for breath.

This motor lasted for all of 14000 miles. As with the other two engines I only changed the oil when the gearbox became impossible. Every 5000 miles, as the belt drive gave the change a very easy time (they lasted 15000 to 18000 miles before turning as elastic as a politician asked to tell the truth). At this point I usually summoned up the energy to fiddle with the carbs but never got around to adjusting the valves! I only did the carbs as neglecting them for too long had a terrible effect on economy, going from 60 to 40mpg!

Given this level of neglect, many will be impressed with their longevity but for the performance I reckon that's the least you can expect; there's little about this bike to inspire much loyalty let alone fanaticism, though this woeful tale will probably have some owners creaming themselves in repressed rage.

As I'd fixed up the chassis very nicely I was almost happy to pop in the fourth engine. This one I heard running first and jolly civilized it sounded, too. It was back to full throttle abuse for next 4000 miles. Ridden like that it would give quite a few bigger bikes the willies and could be heeled over far enough to whip around on their inside. I left one CB750K2 rider running way wide, almost head-butting a bus! I was laughing so loud I didn't clock the gravel on the next bend. Despite the Metzeler's attempts at finding grip it was big slide time. I lost most of my momentum to a bush. The bike ended up mashed beyond recognition. I won't be buying another!

D.W.

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Buying a new bike and reading the UMG? No-one's perfect! I'd read a lot about the little GPz305 and ended up confused. Some were described as brilliant, others suffering terrible engine problems, usually centred around the top end. At the beginning of 1994 I found a dealer willing to sell me a new 'un for £2375 instead of the RRP of £2900. I had hard cash and no trade-in.

The GPz305 is the last serious twin left on the market. If you ignore everything that has a balancer or watercooling only the Kawasaki remains. The engine's been around for yonks, was upgraded from the Z250 when the 125 learner laws made that bike obsolete. A single overhead cam, two valve design, it has pistons rising and falling alternatively in a successful attempt to quell primary vibes. Some rubber engine mounts complete the process.

The evolution of the bike included belt final drive, Uni-trak rear end and many minor mods to shore up the reliability of the camchain and oil circulation to the top end. The engine makes 35 horses and 20lbft of torque and despite its small size is quite typical of the vertical twin breed. Running below 6500rpm is a bit gruff but there's plenty of torque to run along at more than adequate town speeds. Running in didn't prove much of a bore because of the bike's friendly nature at low revs.

I could pop along with a head full of fantasies, the GPz almost finding its own path through traffic. It was as narrow as most big thumpers and a real featherweight (325lbs). Because the engine was so splendid, the 305 was actually easier to ride than my 125, making a mockery of the repressive learner laws. There's a thought, why don't Kawasaki produce a hybrid bike for learners - stick a KH125 motor in the chassis to begin with but sell the bike with a GPz305 mill for when the test's passed. There wouldn't be any trouble selling off the KH motor to the learner market.

With its small, taut chassis I knew the GPz was going to be real fun as soon as I ran it in. I'd deduced from the various tales that the running in was critical and I planned to carefully work the motor up to full power over 1500 miles. The key's not to let the engine labour, such as slowly going up a hill in top gear, but to keep everything free flowing. A lot of bikers don't bother running in, reckoning that modern machinery doesn't need it, but having gone to the trouble of buying a new bike it made good sense to take care at the beginning. After all, I couldn't lose, could I?

I did the running in over a month. I didn't go over 7000rpm until 800 miles. Such was the flow of power that it was difficult to hold the bike back, the needle touching 10,000 revs on occasion. If I had a major hassle then it was with the six speed gearbox, which took a good 3000 miles to run it. Before that happy accumulation of miles, the lever was stiff and there were a couple of false neutrals.

I wasn't sure about the belt drive before buying the bike; was so dubious that I insisted the dealer threw in a spare one! Immediately, the first time I rode the bike, I knew that distrust was misplaced. What an uncanny silence, it's impossible to realise how much noise a chain makes until it's removed. The belt smoothed out the whole transmission, needed hardly any attention and kept the back end clean. It's also lighter than a chain and must be efficient because frugality was excellent.

Once run in, I started to use the bike hard. Jap twins thrive on revs, don't self destruct as long as the oil changes are done regularly. I ignored the wildly optimistic mileages offered by Kawasaki, did the oil changes every 1500 miles and the filter every 6000 miles. On twins like this oil changes are much more important than even regular maintenance, making that critical difference to engine longevity.

Maintenance wasn't too onerous. Do the valves every 5000 miles and the carbs when they went so far out of adjustment that some vibes turned up, usually every 2500 to 3000 miles. Accessibility was good and I never spent more than an hour working on the motor.

The one area that caught me out was the spark plugs. Modern plugs never seem to need changing, so when the engine became difficult to start at 5500 miles I thought there might be serious trouble. It took me a long time to shake off the feeling of paranoia with regards to engine maintenance. However, after talking to a couple of owners it emerged that plugs had to be changed every 5000 to 6000 miles. I always do mine when I do the filter.

The GPz being a plain and simple motorcycle that can be easily maintained it seemed a little odd to me that so few are well looked after. My first winter on the bike revealed one reason why the bikes were not held in great respect. Crap finish! Rust seeped out from underneath the paint on both the frame and tank, as if desperate to get at the cold, moist air. The exhausts were speckled with rust, the wheels going white and most of the fasteners lost their protective coating. Only the black engine finish remained intact. The dealer was across country and unlikely to take kindly to demands for a new frame and cycle parts. I patched it up where I could but was really upset to see my ten month old machine in such a sad state.

I think one reason the GPz makes so little impression on the market, despite the superior performance to the vast majority of flash trail bikes and its giant killer status in the bends, is the use of the old GPz550/1100 colours and general shape of tank, panels and seat. In its day it was quite flash, but in 1995 it's as bland as a Superdream and totally uninspiring.

All the stranger that the last classic twin engine, the evolution of 30 years of Japanese design, isn't housed in some retro clothes (I fancy making it look like a Triumph Daytona) which Kawasaki have shown themselves so good at doing. In March 1995 the status of the GPz was brought home to me by an old biking mate. ''What yer buy that pile of crap for, dopey?'' I sighed, handed over the keys and told him to thrash it around the local lanes. He came back suitably contrite, admitted that it wasn't half bad. Because of its engine history and appearance Kawasaki are losing massive sales.

Such is the fine evolution of what's basically a design that could've been found in the sixties, the combustion chamber worked with an effectiveness rarely found in the motorcycle world. Not only was there a usefully schizoid mix of power and torque, but it was one of the most frugal bikes I've ever come across, giving better economy than the majority of 12hp learners. Not only was I averaging 70mpg it didn't take much effort to better 80mpg.

Only when ridden in the 90 to 105mph range, when the tacho was flirting with the red and when there was enough vibration to froth the fuel in the carbs, did economy plunge to a more typical 45 to 50mpg. Usually, range was better than 200 miles, although the seat began to impinge before that.

I haven't written much about braking or handling because basically there was nothing to worry about. The bike might be occasionally shook around by large bumps or fierce winds but that was purely a result of the light mass that otherwise made it such fun to swing through the bends under power. The twin front discs, backed by a rear drum, would stop the bike on a dime.

Heavy pillions dimmed the acceleration, the Jap tyres were slippery as an eel in the wet and the mirrors were as near useless as you can get without breaking the glass with a hammer. On Metz tyres I feel safe in the wet but would like a decent half fairing for hand and upper body protection - I have dreams about fitting a boxer RS upper fairing!

There's now 21000 miles under its wheels. All I've had to pay out is for fuel, oil and a set of tyres...... plus tubes of Solvol, cans of paint and WD40. The finish is easily the worst aspect of ownership. I'm convinced that given proper care the engine will last for a long time and that new GPz305's don't suffer to the same extent as the old ones.

T.I.G.

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The Yamaha RXS was my pride and joy, my first real motorcycle. Bought in immaculate condition from a dealer for 800 notes, sporting 9000 miles on the clock. At the time I was overjoyed at the little bike's turn of speed, reliability and handling. Indeed, many a time it was possible to touch a toe on the ground while leaning the bike over (so long as the tyre were Michelin) and I thought myself the fastest thing on the road. Could blow off Fiat Pandas and the like. It would even wheelie with tremendous ease in first gear but as the year drew on, test passed, and winter came, the finish started to go off, especially around the swinging arm and the electrics were starting to play up (mostly due to poor earthing).

And, I found out I wasn't the fastest lad in town, brought about by cars speeding up as I tried to overtake them, forcing me to either back-off or have a head-on with some artic. The time had come to get shot of the RXS. Oh, it's a lovely little bike, they would say...you have too much money, that's your trouble, but my mind was made up- it had to go.

The local dealer was visited and I told them what I wanted- something that looks cool, in good fettle, low mileage, black and fast. He produced a GPz305 with 8000 miles on the clock, full fairing (which touched the floor when I sat upon the bike), leaking forks, dead battery, scratched petrol tank, for a grand price of £1950.

I told him to stick it up his brown tea-towel holder and promptly left the shop. Next dealer was blessed with my presence and he, amazingly, showed me another GPz305, in absolutely stunning condition with 2200 miles on the clock, for £2195...a bit of haggling meant £1000 part-ex for a G reg Yam, one years parts and labour warranty, six months tax and discounted future buys. We shook hands and I left aboard the Kawasaki with an enormous smile.

I flew down the motorway as soon as I left the shop. 70 then 90mph came up with total ease, then up to the ton. It blew my head off at such sheer speed. I never imagined being powered forwards at such velocities. First impressions were amazing!

The twin front discs were very powerful, needing only a touch on the lever to bring the bike to a halt. Much better than the fade prone drum brakes of the RXS, although I soon fitted Goodridge hose which made them even better. Oil changes were done every 1000 miles (as we all know what happens to this bike's engine when neglected. Carbs and valves needed adjusting at the same interval, due to my throttle to the stop riding technique. Fuel went in 170 miles and so was my brown starfish (arse) as the seat turns hard after 70 miles.

This bike would not wheelie easily despite its low mass and fairly high power, about six inches off the ground was all I could achieve. It made up for this in the handling, it can be pulled over until the exhaust touches the ground, which took all the black chrome off. Yes, I was completely happy with the bike, everything I wanted it to do, it did, including scare old folks at the bus stop when revved to its 12000rpm red line.

One morning I awoke, took a deep breath and thought I wonder how fast it actually is? Phoned my mate (with his cage) and we went speed testing down the back roads. To be quite frank, the Kawasaki couldn't be touched by his car. It just drove backwards in the mirrors, my face all lit up with joy. Let's see exactly what it will do...1st gear, up to 20mph, 2nd up to 40mph, 3rd, 4th, 5th up to the red line then 6th- 90mph, then 100mph, slowly up to 107mph then finally topping out at 111mph, with me clinging on for my life with a cast iron grip on the bars and nose in the clocks. The GPz was exceedingly quick, for me. No-one ever believed me that a 305cc twin would do 111mph but I swear it did- optimistic clock, perhaps? The quarter fairing was effective so long as my chin was on the petrol tank. I loved every moment of it.

The bike was then used for the daily commute to work. Starting was good except when the choke was pulled fully on the revs would fly straight up to 5000rpm until the engine was warmed; the neighbours hammering at their windows. Also, the clutch used to stick, so when first gear was engaged the bike would leap forwards and stall, but soon fired up on the starter.

September soon arrived with me looking forward to MAG's Witton Castle (storm in the castle) biker bash. The beer was bought, tent packed and we set off. I got there in good time and met up with a mate who agreed to set my tent up if I would go for some more beer.

Pulled a massive wheelspin over the grass whilst attempting to show off. To the off-licences and back with the beer...a journey of woe. I rode through a few towns then joined the A68 at the motorway when I met up with about five other bikers who were also going to Witton. I overtook some of them, into second place, the bloke in front following a car...

We went up to the top of a hill, slowed for the corner then accelerated down the other side- I glanced at my speeded, looked back up again and the car in front was braking hard to turn off. The bike in front braked, I braked and somehow lost the front wheel- I don't know if it just slid away or if I flipped the back of the bike over the front...all I remember was a slide show of pulling the brake then hands touching the floor and opening my eyes at the side of the road.

The Kawasaki went on for about ten to twenty yards without me, before coming to a rest. Fortunately, without hitting the biker or car in front. All the bikers stopped to help me up (and the car drove on) and they pulled the bike to the side of the road. Even though I was wearing a leather coat, the sleeve had rolled up my arm as I hit the ground and my jeans had ripped exposing flesh to the road surface, which took layers of skin off.

First thoughts were of pure anger. I had to try hard not to twat anyone in the mouth. Then came the feeling of sadness at the state of my machine. Five minutes earlier it didn't even have a mark on it - immaculate then almost a write-off. We across to a nearby house and called my father who came to pick the bike up with a trailer. On of the bikers wanted me to phone for an ambulance but as it costs £40 in a road accident, I made my own way there hitching a lift off my father.

In the hospital I was bandaged up (after waiting for about two hours) and then the nurse asked me to drop my jeans. I thought I was in for a surprise but much to my disappointment she injected my butt with a tetanus booster. Ugh, you bugger.

Back home, the whole family came out to look at the state of the bike. Indicators, fairing, plastic panel, gear lever, etc., all broken. The Uni-trak bushes and linkage were all crushed and bent, so was the rear mudguard. Next day was spent limping around to the breakers, picking up various bits and pieces, and I made new bushes for the suspension at work (I'm a toolmaker) as well as hammering the linkages straight and twisting the gear pedal back around again. As the fairing cost £200 new and £80 pattern, I didn't bother replacing it.

I have no idea how fast I was going when I fell off the bike but two hundred notes was spent replacing the broken pieces, and arms and legs still haven't healed three months on. I continued using the bike for work but the pleasure of riding it had gone- so it had to go! A nice little car was bought to take its place (which put a smile on the parent's face), but I can't shake off the pull to go out and get another motorbike, which is what I'm doing now- just looking around the papers for that bike that catches my eye - something like a chopper or hardtail would do me nicely...

J.T.

Kawasaki Z250

You name it, and it needed doing. The two stroke silencer on the end of a rusty 2-1 was immediately apparent - the noise was interesting. About the only thing that approached the very good condition claimed in the advert was the paint job. £280 with a spare bike in bits thrown in......I had to have it despite everything. I spent the next day begging for my money back over the phone - the next time I meet up with him I will cut his throttle hand off and stuff it up his....

The bike was fairly responsive but was eager to cut out unless I kept the revs up around four grand. The first thing I replaced was the clapped out battery, but it became even harder to start. The rectifier was dead and the timing was miles out. Performance improved somewhat after these were fixed but it would not run very sweetly. One of the rubber diaphragms was split, fixed with Superglue mixed with Hylomar - it lasted for many months. Brake pads, shocks and swinging arm bushes were all replaced for the MOT. It started to run hot, the spark plug colour needs to be checked every so often and the carbs adjusted to suit. A £70 Micron took care of my spare cash for several weeks, better than the £250 Kawasaki demanded for a stock exhaust system.

I did a few long distance trips without too many problems. One day I attempted a trip along the M62 from Bradford to Liverpool. The headwind was so strong that I had to come off the motorway at Huddersfield and carry on for the rest of the journey along the Pennine trunk road. I just made it. The only thing that upset me was the fact that it pissed down all the way. Even my Y- fronts were ringing wet. I still suffer from piles.

The very best fun day was the trip to Selby with my reluctant spouse stuck on the back. Give the bike its due it pulled like a tractor. As we travelled along the A1 we were buzzed by about fifty or so superbikes. My wife was amazed to see a big Honda whizz past with a black leather glad girl on the back doing her makeup....the wife still goes on about it to this day.

I decided to put the bike into a dealers for a full service, as I couldn't get it to run really properly. I had painted the engine black and was surprised to find that it looked as if the covers had not been removed to check the tappets - I think I paid £70 for an oil change! Save, that the timing cover had been refitted with an old gasket and was dripping oil. I pointed this out and he offered me a gasket (£3) and asked if I could fit it myself? Like a fool, I did!

The bike would not start, no lights, nothing. I had to remove the tank to find that the main junction box had not been reconnected. Fifty yards down the road, petrol was pissing out all over the engine - I put the bike back into their hands for the night and legged it home. I was really mad by then.

Next morning, he explained that even though he had checked the carbs he had not noticed all the shit in them. His answer to this problem was to fit an inline filter. He actually told me that he could not balance the carbs because the mounting block had a crack in it on the intake side. I did not wait any longer and took the bike home to finish off what I'd just paid £70 for.

The engine soon tells you when it's out of tune with its own version of morse code and a bit of piston slap. I paid over £20 for the workshop manual so I know how it's all done now. I then found I had trouble with the points cover. This is secured by two screws. Never overtighten them or you will need major surgery to remove them. It's quite easy to get the contact breaker leads to short out on the cover or if you leave the gasket off. I found it quicker and cheaper to buy spares by mail order than trust the smaller shops.

I now have my little Kawa 250 well sorted and in good repair. I weigh 14 stone but can flick the bike around like a whiplash. I find it ideal for my particular requirements. It's quite fast and agile, fuel consumption is about 50mpg, although it does not run well on unleaded. I get lots of pleasure zipping around the county of West Yorkshire. My bike is now clean and polished and looks about three years old rather than ten.

Regular checks and inspections are vital. An old bike needs lots of love and care. My Z250 hack has never let me down really. It will even carry on with just one pot firing - I always get home. Now that I have the manual, I can do everything myself - one of the advantages of owning a simple, straightforward vertical twin.

G.P.Woodgate

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The Kawasaki Z250A3 sounded like an orgy in a nail factory but it felt usable and had seven months MOT left. £120 changed hands. It needed to be screwed to the redline to make it work, but despite knackered suspension still felt quite predictable. The engine oil was changed, the forks filled with SA30 and a couple of washers and some serious overtightening of strategic nuts and bolts, together with camchain, tappet and timing adjustment, made the bike altogether more civilised. The only problems were the notchy head bearings, the Motad pipe that had rusted to death and the nauseating lime green paint.

I work irregular shifts seven miles into the country outside Derby and thrashed to and from work on a dual carriageway mostly populated by trucks when I'm commuting. The Z250A3 has 27hp at 10,000rpm but only half this at 6500rpm, so the motor has to be kept wound up to make any progress, especially with a leaky aftermarket 2-1. It uses the least fuel at 8500rpm when cruising at 70mph.

As autumn turned to winter the lights proved just adequate but the bike's main failing became all too obvious - it was always parked outside all night where the combination of cold oil, a tiny battery, a woefully inadequate charging system and a feeble starter often contributed to total inertia. I lived at the bottom of a steep hill, so I pushed the recalcitrant heap up and bumped it down, all the time cursing the lack of a kictstart.

The neighbours became familiar with the pre dawn ritual expletives as I pushed the cursed heap up the hill for the second or third time on particularly cold mornings. As a special accessory to this character building exercise, there is a vicious right angle bend at the foot of the hill, and when the snow had been compacted I fell off a couple of times when the bike fired up just at the bottom of the hill. No damage except the usual bruised ego. I had the battery recharged with fresh acid and put it on overnight charge once a week but the ritual continued.

Being a masochist, I used to ride up into the Peak District in the snow, and on these trips the Z250 never let me down. As the weather relaxed its icy grip the increasingly soggy handling and balding rear Pirreli was whitelining badly so more air in the tyre and even tighter swinging arm bolts lessened the problem enough to keep going.

The bike was cleaned once and the alloy wheels and engine came up reasonably. The front and rear discs were just about able to stop the 350lb machine but not fierce enough to cause any problems in the wet. The pads hardly wore at all in 4000 miles, the oil was changed a second time, a meagre attempt was made to bodge the paper thin Motad, the chain was boiled daily in Linklyfe (actually, two links were removed and the only oil it ever saw was thrown up from the road) and the tappets were checked a second time just before its MOT.

The bike had no chance of an MOT pass, so I just hoped to minimise the number of fail points so I could get a half decent price to buy something else. The bike was thoroughly cleaned, the usual bodges applied.....it failed on exhaust, swinging arm bearings, shocks, fork seals, steering head bearings, wheel bearings and soggy brakes.

I sold the bike to a mate for £75 (he still owes me £20 but I don't feel robbed). He fitted new swinging arm bushes and fork seals and got an MOT at another dealer. It had cost me £45 (plus the £20 he still owes me), two changes of oil and about 20 hours work, to run the Z250 for a seven month winter. Seems pretty reasonable to me. If there was a kickstart I'd buy another for next winter.

Skid

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A 1979 Kawasaki Z250B for free was too much of a good deal to miss despite the fact that it had been left standing for a while. Three years old with 35000 miles on the clock, it had seized brakes (discs at each end) and chain, carbs full of water, a useless battery.....it needed a rear tyre, head bearings, brake pads, swinging arm bearings and pivot bolt, and some work on the 2-1 exhaust where it had been damaged where it enters the head.

The chain was soaked in paraffin, then boiled in grease and looked okay. The carbs were cleaned out and the diaphragms repaired with Superglue. I stripped the top end of the motor to find that the cam bearings were pitted but they looked like the engine might still run. I changed the oil and bunged a car battery in the top box to aid starting. I must have spent hours just turning the engine over, cleaning the plugs, checking the timing, rechecking the timing, going over and over all the obvious points. The bike just wouldn't start.

Then, one day, after constant turning over on the starter for about five minutes, it coughed. I couldn't believe it, a reaction. Then another cough. Out came the plugs, a quick clean, pop them back in. Cough, cough, pop, bang, suddenly it started, only on one cylinder but I managed to catch it and keep it running. After a minute or so, the other cylinder chimed in. Music, sweet music. I then left the bike until the next day, just to see if it was a fluke. It fired up first time. I was on the way to getting it on the road.

First problem, even with new bearings and pivot, the swinging arm was so badly worn that it was still free to move sideways - some shims soon sorted that. Cooking foil and exhaust putty fixed the 2- 1. It passed the MOT first time and was thrown into my daily 24 commute straight away.

After a few days, the regulator/rectifier started smoking, but a Suzuki 250 unit from a breaker solved that. The bike then gave good service for two years until the performance began to fade and it became more and more difficult to start.

The handling was excellent compared with other 250s of the time, and braking was good at first although prone to fade at the front end. The power was sufficient for gentle meanderings around country lanes and, when revved hard, enough for fast A roads to be fun. One of the weak points on early bikes was the crankshaft; indeed, I was told that my bike had had a replacement under warranty at 1000 miles!

In two years I never had a breakdown, fuel consumption wasn't measured, but wasn't bad until towards the end when it used a fair amount as it was revved harder and harder to maintain performance. Starting became a very long affair. Churning and churning on the starter, it could take five or more minutes to start. I think that the engine was just totally worn out with nearly 50,000 miles under its belt - a pretty good engine life for a high revving 250.

When the top speed had dropped from 90 to 55mph, I offered the bike to my borther-in-law, who having sold the engine and frame, then proceeded to annoy the classic movement by fitting all the remaining bits onto a BSA frame that held a Triumph 650 motor! To sit on this device felt very strange, it felt just like the old Kawasaki but the noise of the Triumph engine out of the Z250 exhaust was very much like thunder - weighing the same as the Kawasaki, power delivery was very different!

About four years later I borrowed a low mileage, immaculate 1982 Scorpion; it brought back many fond memories of my days with my own.

Bernard Wright

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£290 and it was mine. An X reg, 31000 mile Z250A3. Starting soon proved interesting. It wouldn't unless I risked life and limb by bump starting. Push hard, jump on, attack gear lever with size 9, and it started. The bike needed a lot of clutch slip to get it moving. Bracing myself for back breaking, arm stretching, tarmac wrinkling acceleration, I opened the throttle.

The bike crawled up to 30mph, 50mph was just obtainable if seriously strangled in first and second. My old moped had more zap! I decided the clutch must be slipping, so adjusted the free play at the lever. A sickening crunch and stalled engine was the result when I tried to engage first gear. The lever had actually jumped out of its holder at the clutch end, so I had a bike without a clutch. I had to remove the gear lever, footpeg and clutch cover to fix that.

The carbs were removed to reveal split diaphragms and incorrect jets. £12 secured a used set of carbs, reassembled after 30 minutes hand to hand combat with the carb rubber, she was ready for another test ride. The motor now started okay; expecting the same kind of acceleration as before, I whacked opened the throttle and was nearly thrown off the back in surprise - the end of the road appeared in about three seconds.

Redline was at 10,000rpm but it will rev well past this in every gear except top....on my first long trip, whilst two up, I went for gold on a dual carriageway. Exiting a roundabout in what I believed was fourth, I gassed it up to 9500rpm, changed to fifth, 9500rpm again and into top.....er, fifth actually, so did I discover that the bike will do 85mph in fifth.

Brakes are adequate as long as you bleed them regularly (discs each end). Handling isn't too bad despite shot head bearings, perhaps the cause of bucking and weaving in fast bends. It's quite comfortable as a 70mph cruiser when the Marzocchi rear shocks start to work. Ridden steadily a tank will last about 175 miles, 60 to 70mpg, although the best I've had is 92mpg!

With new points, timing set, carb balanced and a new set of plugs, the engine will quite happily tickover at 500rpm. Real power emerges above 6000rpm when the exhaust noise smooths out to a nice howl, although it's quite easy to develop flat spots at 6000 and 8000rpm unless everything is set up right. The bike can only just keep up with things like RD200s, but after riding a fifty and a KH100, this bike is fun and able to keep most cars in their place. She has now done 39000 miles and I am considering keeping her until she dies, as I can't see anyone else giving me a decent amount of money for it.

Ian Fellows

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Back in September 1989, I sold my aged Honda CG125 and embarked upon a quest for a bigger bike, something, anything, for around £400. Soon my eyes lit upon a very clean looking Y reg Z250 twin with 22000 miles on the clock in a Kawasaki dealer's. The bike was delivered to Durham and I took it out for my first ride, anticipating butt kicking acceleration and vast speed.

Turning off the roundabout and on to the dual carriageway, I clicked down a couple of cogs.....the bike farted along at 65mph, full bore. Bastards, I thought, and cursed my luck as the prospect of riding 160 miles to carry out some geological field work in Galloway, Scotland, had by then lost all hint of excitement.

As I sluggishly approached Dalmellington, Galloway, the following weekend, fully loaded with hiking gear, boots, maps and a geological hammer, I found myself doing 65mph without means to disengage the clutch with lorries stacking up behind, waiting to pass. Anyway, the bike didn't seem to mind me crashing the gears for the last 10 miles. Between Durham and Dalmellington, I stopped once to refuel with unleaded, the small tank squeezing out 120 miles before reserve had to be used, giving an average mpg of about 60.

When finally the destination was reached, I proceeded to dump the bike on a gravel drive because of the defunct clutch mechanism, the front wheel skidding sideways as the rear pushed me along - I just couldn't reach the engine on-off switch at the same time as pulling the brake lever.....shite! After righting the bike I booked into a B & B, located a pub and necked a few scoops of heavy. Soon my frustrations slipped away.

The next day a local car garage fixed the clutch for £20. A retaining nut had been working itself loose and already the plates had begun to touch the inside of the case. Any longer, I was told, and it would have been very broken.

Back in Durham I took the bike for a service at my local bike shop and later was told the bad news. One cylinder had low compression and the piston probably needed replacing, so I gave the okay to do the work and received a bill for £150. The bike was still a slug. The carb diaphragms were checked next and appeared badly split. Obviously, they were as much use as plastic toilet paper, but at £26 each new replacements were a total rip-off, so £1.50 bought some Superglue and I cut some strips from a car diaphragm to effect a good repair. The metamorphosis was now complete. Power surged as I twisted the throttle, Escorts and Sierras passed me - in reverse.

The good performance meant that my next trip to Galloway was infinitely more enjoyable than the first, the extra power used to good effect, burning off the convoys of ferry bound container lorries on the notorious A69. As the hills of Galloway beckoned, worries drained from me and mingled with the exhaust gases dumped in the slipstream.

At Easter the next year, I rode to Northern Ireland loaded with gear, to visit my folks for a week. A price of £45 return for me and the bike induced a gloating smile as I glided past rows of cars, each costing £130 return, to nestle at the front of the queue, alongside a chop Suzuki and a spanking new Harley Softail. Besides those two my little 250 looked very little indeed. At home in Ireland, I pissed my parents off because the petrol tank split at the seam just as I neared our house.

On my return to the UK, the weather became drizzly and horrible, the air cooling as the evening drifted on. I was so cold that I was forced to stop at a nearby garage and stuff copies of the Sun down my all in one suit, the crotch of which leaked badly. I now know what it is like to be an Arctic brass monkey. The Zed's headlight proved adequate, but needed to be wiped at intervals due to the rubbish thrown up by the lorries ahead. The Roadrunners kept me well glued to the tarmac, but they didn't prevent my permanent nose drip.

Back in Durham I had to get the bike through the MOT. This was pretty easy, although I did have to change the swinging arm sleeve and bearings. The new bearings and sleeve cost £15 and their fitment was a very brutal process. You don't coax bearings out, you beat the shite out of them with a hammer and chisel, making sure not to damage the inside surface of the sleeve cavity. The new bearings restored the bike to its original tautness, making cornering feel much safer. There was none of that tail end drift I had previously experienced, which had forced my bollocks into my chest cavity on a couple of occasions.

After 6000 reasonably happy miles and one Tsubaki chain later, I heard the tell-tale clatter of a worn out camchain. I was kind of dreading this. However, this time I wasn't prepared to fork out another £150, so decided to do it at home. Strangely, there doesn't seem to be a Haynes, so a Kawasaki manual was purchased for £28!

I got all the bits from the friendly local shop - camchain (£14), gaskets and O-rings (£15) and some gasket goo to seal the rocker covers. They also lent me some essential tools including piston ring compressor, which prevented me from smashing the rings during reassembly. One weekend, and much swearing later, the bike performed and sounded okay - I spent the next week proudly proclaiming how good a job I'd done whilst secretly adjusting the timing to get the bike to run cleanly.

The Z250 has a very straightforward engine that is generally easy to work on. With just a single overhead camshaft and two valves per cylinder it's a lot less complex than some of its rivals. It also lacks the Superdreams balance shaft, so doesn't have nasty chains whirring about in the crankcases - vibes are not intrusive so it doesn't need a balancer. It's even possible to fit a GPz305 engine into the frame if you are desperate for extra power.

After the initial teething troubles, the little twin was back on top form, giving exciting, albeit modest acceleration and top speeds of 90mph plus on the motorways. Commuting to and from Durham was a pleasure, as the bike handled predictably and unleaded petrol gave 60mpg, a fill up only being needed every weekend.

Recently, I sold the bike with 28000 miles on the clock and a worn out back tyre, for £300. The guy who bought it was at least 65 years old and told me he wanted to practice on a small bike before buying a Moto Guzzi Spada. He said he was taking the Guzzi to Italy and it really goes without saying that the wife was staying well at home. Let's hope that when I'm his age I'll have the balls to do that. I didn't have any regrets when he took the bike away, as its upkeep had been an effort. Anyway, I had my eyes on an E reg XBR500...

G.Ingram

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1985 must've been a good year for the Kawasaki Z250. There were no less than half a dozen for sale in MCN. I bought the cheapest, which was also the lowest mileage, at 9000. Riding home, I touched the ton on the motorway and immediately decided I'd bought a good 'un. Then, it was just three years old and in fine fettle.

The Z250 is a pleasantly simple motorcycle in these days of excess. A single overhead cam, a mere two valves in each of its twin cylinders, not a balance shaft in sight and 30 horses to play with. Concessions to the modern world were a belt drive and single shock Uni-trak back end.

What does all that add up to? A fun machine to thrash around town that's sufficiently light and narrow to take advantage of even the most minimal gaps and obscure routes through traffic. One with enough guts to keep up with the 80mph motorway trawl and stable enough to be chucked along country roads with the best of them. During the first three months I was most impressed, after that boredom set in.

The engine may be simple but it's not necessarily the longest lasting unit in the world. The whole top end is a bit dubious when subjected to constant abuse and oil changes are neglected. As well as dodgy cams, rockers, and precarious piston rings, there's also a tendency towards blowing the small-ends! These engines become dubious from 30,000 miles onwards, but there's always the option of fitting a nearly new GPz305 mill!

The power characteristics are typical of a Japanese twin. From 7000 revs onwards there's a positive deluge of power, right into the red if you're into engine explosions. Between 3000 and 7000rpm the engine ran fine, but on a modicum of torque rather than an excess of power. In town, there's no need to hit the power band to blow off cagers and many a commuter will never need to exceed 7000rpm. Below 3000rpm the engine runs but feels like it wants to cut out in the taller gears.

Just under 8000rpm equates to 70mph cruising in top gear. The motor always feels like it's working hard but at least in the 70 to 90mph range there's no need to play silly buggers on the gearbox, as the motor was heavily into its power in that speed range. For sane riding the Z250 has sufficient power but, as mentioned, after a few months I became a bit bored with the level of performance.

The transmission was always smooth, aided by the belt drive which removed the noise, vibration and mess of a chain. You don't know what you're missing until you've tried a belt. They are expensive to replace but mine lasted for nearly 30,000 miles. Any abnormal noises are a sign that it's about to snap and it's safer to replace them every 20,000 miles. Any shorter life than that is usually down to wheel misalignment - quite easy to do with the naff wheel adjusters. Belt tensioning's needed every 1500 miles. Overall, a definite improvement on chains.

The smoothness of the belt did show up a patch of vibration at 4 to 5000rpm. With six gears and a wide spread of usable power it was easy enough to ride around. The only other sign of secondary vibes or torque reaction from the 180 degree throw crankshaft was when more than 10,000 revs were on the clock, when the pegs felt like they wanted to fall off. The Z250 is easily as smooth as a 250 Superdream, despite the latter's complex balancer system.

A harshly vibrating Z250 motor is a sure sign of worn internals and that it's about to blow. Misfiring around 5500rpm may be down to nothing more than the sidestand's cut-out switch malfunctioning (easily removed from the electrical system). It may also cause difficult starting after a couple of years. It did stop me riding off with the sidestand down a couple of times so wasn't all bad. The engine warms up very slowly, with a finicky choke that tries for a 5000rpm tickover speed. It needs a good ten minutes before it settles down to a steady 1200rpm.

This evidence of lean running was further emphasized by its frugality. When I was short of money all I had to do was keep below 7000 revs. 80-85mpg resulted. Thrashing relentlessly returns 55-60mpg. Usually, I managed around the 70mpg mark, giving a range of over 200 miles. It was only when more than 30,000 miles were on the clock that I was getting less than 60mpg. The simplicity of its design pays off!

As it's a small, compact machine comfort was obviously limited for those on the large side. Being a bit on the short side I was thankful for the low seat height and lack of top heavy feel. The Z was also well balanced, a feel aided by the bar/peg relationship. The seat went hard after a mere 100 miles but a folded jumper eased the bum-ache on longer runs. A few hours cruising at 80mph didn't turn up any wild pains and I was quite happy to leap back on the Z for another session.

Handling was a little strained at times but not in speed wobble country. The Z would leap about over country roads but not stray too far off the chosen path. It was easy to throw around but the suspension would sometimes lose any idea of how it was supposed to be reacting to events. It would either go into pogo-stick mode or become coil bound, but the tubular frame was sufficiently well designed to hold the plot to its course.

Both the shock and fork were pretty basic but better built than most in that they were still there with 35000 miles on the clock. Neither had much hope of absorbing the more vicious potholes whilst roaring up on to the pavement was a quick way to tear off the sump. The most obvious sign of their age was the way the back end would fish-tail under even moderate braking.

The first major expense came at 14000 miles when the front pads were worn down to the metal. The calipers needed cleaning rather than rebuilding. The brake had become rather spongy, an obvious excuse to fit Goodridge hose. With that and new pads I could do dangerously late braking without worry. The bike could still be chucked around obstacles with the tyre howling.

A 1000 miles later it was time for a new set of tyres. The front would have gone for another 2000 miles but it seemed like a good idea to fit a set of Metzelers. The back only lasted 10,000 miles but the front was good for twice that. The German rubber made the bike more controllable in the wet and less susceptible to things like white lines.

We rolled happily onwards until about 20,000 miles when the back end felt diabolically loose and the Z came close to tank-slappers on several occasions. The swinging arm bearings were as shot as the seized in spindle was completely devoid of grease. Oh, happy days, I thought, as I whacked away with the hammer. One spindle, set of bushes and tin of grease later I was back on the road.......just 12000 miles later I had to repeat the experience. When I did the swinging arm I also disassembled the Uni-trak linkages and filled the bearings with grease, and they were still tight when I came to sell the bike. They can go after as little as 15000 miles.

The engine had run faultlessly. Just a 2000 mile maintenance and oil change session. It wasn't until 24000 miles that the camchain started to rattle. I tried to bodge the tensioner but it didn't help, the noise could be heard from a 100 yards away. I didn't fancy changing the camchain myself so paid up for a dealer to do the job - about 11000 miles later I thought I could discern the start of the return of the rattle.

At 26000 miles the engine started to cut-out above 7000 revs and was sometimes very reluctant to start. One look at the rust floating in the petrol revealed that the tank was about to corrode right through. A nice used tank only cost a tenner. The rest of the cosmetics were a bit faded but not so far gone that I could justify spending any money renovating them.

After putting 30,000 miles on the clock, the silencers had also rusted right the way through. A used Motad 2-1 for £20 solved the immediate problem but 5000 miles later was threatening to go the same way. It was pretty obvious to me that the bike was reaching its service limits. I could see huge expenses over the horizon.

When the alternator started to play up, with dead batteries most mornings, I decided it was time to trade in. Almost 25000 miles in less than a year had been more than enough for me. I got a good deal on a GS450E and lived happily ever afterwards!

Chris Oxford

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A Kawasaki 250 twin might not be everyone's ideal bike, but it was just the sort of thing I was looking for. A week in Bristol freezing my butt off on a Honda 125 had rewarded me with a licence and now I needed a bike mainly for getting to work. I knew what I wanted - a 'classic' looking 250cc, not a trailie or a race replica. Trouser staining power I didn't want but something which would give me confidence and make me feel like a biker rather than someone who'd just passed his test.

But this was February 1994 and I couldn't find anything to buy. I don't mean there was nothing I could afford, I mean there were a complete lack of small machines available privately or from a dealer. I was even considering a new MZ 250, when a chance drop-in to a dealer turned up an E reg Kawasaki Scorpion 250 with 20,000 miles on the clock and six MOT certificates, showing a one owner machine whose last three years had been restful to say the least. Anyway, it was silver, seemed to go when they gave me a test ride as a pillion and it was mine for seven hundred quid, sold MOT'd but as parts which meant it didn't have a guarantee.

A week later, insurance arranged, I collected the machine. Why does it always rain when you're collecting or delivering bikes? Is it an EEC rule? Riding the OHC twin home was an interesting experience. It seemed to have less acceleration than a learner 125 and the gearchange was very loose with a lot of slop but the brakes were good, due to single discs front and rear that were both powerful and sensitive. They didn't even show any signs of caliper seizure, a common complaint on old Jap bikes.

Back on my driveway, I examined the machine closely, expecting to find a few faults but hopefully nothing tragic. Both levers were bent and the indicators were fixed up with black PVC tape. The ignition switch surround was missing and the key would come out in any position. The gearchange was very bent and basically hanging off. One of the exhausts rattled like a collecting box, the grab-rail was missing and the brake light didn't always come on. These were all minor faults and I was pleased with my purchase despite the signs of obvious crash damage - at least the Kawasaki still ran straight and true.

The only immediate gripe I had was with the performance. Below 7000rpm acceleration was such that it would've been bad for the ego to tangle with a diesel 2CV towing another diesel 2CV up hill with Cyril Smith's big brother roller-skating behind on a cast-iron tow rope. Okay, I'm exaggerating, but I was significantly under-whelmed with the thrill factor and so performance headed up the list of things to get fixed soon in big bitter letters. In some ways its mild nature was well suited to my learner status.

The lack of speed didn't stop me using the bike for work, though. I quickly discovered that over a daily nine mile each way B-road commute, the bike would still do 63mpg. Over a three day period when there was fog, rain and a bit of that pure nastiness exclusive to English winters, I achieved 79mpg. I certainly couldn't fault the little Kawasaki for economy which harked back to the fifties and those mythical big thumpers.

Alas, there is nothing like the tail end of winter for finding problems with a bike, and this one wasn't immune. The tappet covers were leaking oil, most of which was spectacularly burned off on the manifold. Maybe this would've been useful for James Bond, but it was a nuisance for me. Partially because the smoky fumes would attract attention whenever I stopped but mainly because my right boot seemed to collect a lot of oil, too. So, oil leaks were added to the list but I kept on riding and enjoying it until the electric start packed up.

A 250 Scorpion weighs 300lbs, bump-starting's really easy but that's not the point. A good part of the fun of biking is casually getting on your bike, rolling it gently off the stand and thumbing the electric start - just once - for the engine to purr into life before riding away in a noisy cloud of smugness and disappearing from view of any jealous 'I-used-to-have-a-BSA-you-know' drivers as they join the traffic queue you've just white-lined. All of this goes completely out of the window if the bike won't start and much energy has to be expended running the thing up and down the car park. Won't start, joined the list at the top, much like a prefect barging his way into a dinner queue. Something had to be done.

I'm no mechanic. I'll have a go at electrical problems but this list definitely needed someone whose spanners weren't greasy because someone borrowed them, so I found a garage with a good reputation and took the bike there for treatment. One good service later, the Z was transformed into something noticeably easier to ride. The Kawasaki had been standing for months before I bought it, this inactivity apparently the cause of most of the problems unless they caused the bike to be abandoned by its past owner.

Corrosion on the electrical connections at the starter switch was responsible for the starting difficulties. The oil leak was fixed by fitting new tappet covers (but my boot was still oily due to another leak from the gearbox where the clutch cable entered). The 30 horses were restored by stripping down and scraping out the carbs where stale petrol had hardened, leaving a brown deposit - rather difficult to track down unless you have some experience in these things. They did all of the usual stuff, too, like new plugs and points, jets and brake bits.

It then became nippy enough but not impressively rapid. About 85mph was as fast as it would go, probably due in the main to the lack of a fairing. Bearing in mind my beginner's requirements, the bike had plenty enough oomph for me but I was glad I hadn't bought anything less powerful.

Two-up, the bike was dreadful. The front went very light, making braking in the wet interesting, and the general handling became a bit of a gamble. I don't know if this is because the Uni-trak back end was set up for a solo lightweight but with just me it was okay so I didn't really worry about it. Handling on old Jap's all down to the state of the suspension and chassis bearings; tends to be left alone unless it really becomes nasty.

This model, and the 305, are belt driven. It makes a weird sort of whistle, but aside from that they're fine. People say the belts go after 30,000 miles, my bike had only done 23000 when I sold it, so I don't know if that's true but a friend had various 305's for years and I can't recall him having any trouble. The belt seems like a good idea, an improvement over messy chains without the weight and complication of a shaft drive.

All good bikes must come to an end, and mine was no exception. The gearchange shaft wore out its splines, so that the lever rotated freely. This meant I couldn't change gear. 12 miles up and down hills is a long and undignified way home in first gear, but we somehow made it and I can see the funny side now. (Just whack a few small nails into the splines with the lever loose then tighten, or go wild with the welding torch, or drill through the lever and shaft and add a bolt, or try Araldite - Ed.)

But there is a happy ending. I related the tale of the bike's sad demise at work the next day and one of my colleagues offered me scrap value. He fixed it and ended up with a bargain. Of course, there's bound to be another problem around the corner. But did I give up motorcycling? Don't be silly, I bought a 600cc Yamaha and if it ever does anything interesting I'll write about it...

Tony J.

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It may seem preposterous or even mad but I decided that it was time to bring my ratty Kawasaki Z250 up to concours condition! I'd owned it for three years, done 22000 miles (which put 37 thou on the clock) and never had any trouble from the motor. I know the top end's supposed to be made of cheese but I was very careful about warming the motor up slowly and doing 500 mile oil and valve sessions. 500 miles? Well, I was brought up on sixties Hondas which were tough but fragile in exactly the same way.

Not that surprising as the Kawasaki shared the same simple twin cylinder, OHC layout, without any balancers or impediment to extracting the most performance and best economy from the mill. Don't laugh! The Z250 would top out at the ton in favourable conditions and happily cruise at 80mph in adverse ones. Fuel ranged from 60 to 75mpg! A combination that few modern bikes can match, so there!

The chassis was a rather different matter, with a strong inclination to rust back to dust. By the time I'd decided to do something about it, the petrol tank was wafer thin, the silencers were hanging off by tiny threads of metal, if there was any paint left on the frame I couldn't see it, and all the chassis bearings were a touch on the loose side. The electrics had been bodged along the way.

There are, of course, several ways of getting an old bike back into shape. Bodging, filling, welding and painting being the cheapest. And making the local Kawasaki dealer's day by ordering a couple of grand's worth of new spares, the most expensive. Apart from the swinging arm and frame, which would both be powder-coated, I intended a different route to the resurrection shuffle. What I did was bung adverts in the local papers and motorcycle press, but only where they were free! Then I sat back to await the avalanche of telephone calls from Z250 owners desperate to off-load their bikes.

I had about twenty calls! First, I dealt with the four who said I could take the damn things away for free, browned off as they were with total engine seizures. Lots of reasonable cycle parts resulted. From the rest, I copped a perfect pair of cast wheels and discs, a brand new exhaust system, a good wiring loom and a newish saddle. The cycle parts were painted dark green, with a bit of yellow pin-striping to give it some class.

I also had a pile of usable engine bits but had decided to leave well alone until something went wrong. Total cost of paint, parts, bearings, etc., was £220. As the bike looked like new this was bargain time. And what a joy to have a taut chassis, powerful brakes and an electrical system that didn't cause fires whenever the lights were used in anger. My friends were amazed and envious at the total transformation, ped's no longer glared at me in anger and the plod totally ignored my existence.

How long could this state of happiness last for? If you must know, until 46000 miles were on the clock. I knew something was going to go wrong when the exhaust started smoking and the cylinder head did an imitation of a machine gun on automatic fire. Unfortunately, these revelations occurred some 30 miles from home, and although the Z's quite light at 340lbs I had no intention of pushing it that far!

So we motored on at a moderate velocity, my left hand feathering the clutch in case the worst happened. True to form, the ever dependable Kawasaki got me back to my front door before expiring with a last mechanical gasp. The problem? The camshaft and rockers had started to break up. Judging by the Z's reputation I have the longest lasting one in the country!

This did little for my peace of mind when I stripped the motor right down. Every bearing was shagged, I'd been riding around on a rolling deathtrap that could've exploded at any moment. It says something for the Z's designers that they made it so everything wore out at the same time! I'm not sure what it says, but it says something!

With my collection of engine parts I had everything needed to assemble a new motor. No problem there. But? Well, parts tend to wear into each other and bunging together lots of parts from different engines plays hell with all the tolerances and the way parts move against each other. Not recommended, but the cycle parts shone as brightly as the summer sun, so what could I do? It was at least as safe as buying a used engine with no idea what the past owner had done to it. This is what I told myself in the darker moments of the engine reassembly!

After a week, or so, of cursing the engine was lovingly shoved back into frame, tightened down and connected up to all the necessary ancillaries. A rather reluctant starter it proved to be. As in having to phone all my mates (okay, I haven't got that many...) to provide the muscle for the push start.

As suspected, it was a bit rattly, a little vibratory and somewhat lacking the zip of the original mill despite its accumulation of miles and abuse. But it worked. Sort of. 90mph top end, 50 to 55mpg economy and enough acceleration to see off 250 Superdreams. The previous engine had always run so sweetly and strongly that I wasn't much enamoured of the new bike. A cycle of neglect soon set in.

Having said that, despite my cynicism I got a year's riding and 13000 miles out of the hack. By then it was in a poor state. Seeping as much rust as oil. It looked to me as if both the chassis and engine would decay simultaneously; that one day I'd come out to find that all was left of the bike was the still immaculate powder-coated frame and swinging arm; the rest decayed to dust or collapsed from fatigue.

Actually, it was nowhere near as bad as it looked. The real nestles were the silencers, shock springs and front mudguard, the rest polished up nicely. As it happened, I already had usable replacements. At that point I was thinking of selling the bike but a few visits to private vendors convinced me that the sub £1000 market was a kind of modern hell where the hope of the seller was way ahead of the reality of the rats they were trying to off-load.

Another engine rebuild, then? No, I'd already used the good engine parts and although I could've bodged together a working motor it wouldn't have been a pretty sight (or sound!). The existing engine was on its last legs, no doubt about that - 70mph and 40mpg! It had to go before I was arrested for noise and smog pollution - I was the envy of MZ owners!

Flicking through good old MCN I came across a private advert for a crashed GPz305. As soon as I read it I knew what I had to do. Rush down there and buy the engine. It was a good one, too, two years and 4000 miles old, still shiny in black with no hint of corrosion. A hefty £600 was demanded, no offers considered, but he'd throw in the exhaust, carbs and ignition. It ran rattle free and sounded good. I bought it.

Apart from some minor problems with mounting holes and the fact that my bike was chain drive whilst the 305 was belt, I soon had the motor installed. A bit of work on the engine obscured the fact that it was a 305 rather than a 250, so that I wouldn't have to pay more road tax or insurance!

I was expecting a lot from the new engine, especially considering how much it'd cost - I'd sold off all my Z250 engine parts for £125, so it wasn't that bad! Certainly, there was lots more performance, 110mph flat out and 90mph cruising. Economy was also excellent, averaging out at 70mpg! But there was quite a bit of vibration, especially above 7000 revs where the 250 always smoothed out. Only in the handlebars, mind.

There's a complex theory about matching the engine to the frame so that the maximum amount of vibration is absorbed, and also about the natural frequencies of the cycle parts not matching that of the engine. That's as far as I understand it, anyway, the solution being to add weights to the bars so that it doesn't respond to the engine's vibes. I tried a flatter, narrower set of bars off some old Brit, and hey-presto, smoothness ruled again. I just had to suffer wrist-ache instead!

Inspired again by the excellence of the engine, I got the cycle parts up to scratch. Ended up with a very useful tool, indeed. It's light enough and rapid enough to hurl through traffic in a way that knocks moped owners out of the reckoning. It can cruise at 90mph along the motorway without too much trauma. And back road kicks are there for the taking. Ultra versatile and cheap to run.

Old Z250's aren't really recommended, though, because the engine's probably close to its expiry date. Newish GPz305's are the best bet but I personally hate their styling. Give me the classic lines of the Z250 any day - why don't Kawasaki get off their arse and do a classic 305 at a reasonable price? Bound to sell thousands!

H.T.J.