[The bike pictured in the original article still exists at the time of posting!]
Fire and the fury came to mind as I topped the ton tor the first time on the RD250E; indeed, for the first time in my life. The frenzy of vibes through the rear-sets added to the feeling of fighting the elements, as did my body wrapped around the tank and head in the clocks. A pain ran through my neck as l craned upwards to see where I was going, although the howling gale took the usual pressure off my wrists, resultant from the clip-ons.
The RD was basically stock, save for some minor carb mods to suit the expansion chambers. This emphasised the way power suddenly flowed in at 6000rpm, although the reed valve motor still produced a reasonable amount of torque for trawling through town in a tallish gear, something necessary to avoid the attentions of the police who did not appear amused by the snarl of the spannies beyond six grand.
The chassis was also mostly stock. The big change was to the riding position which helped put more mass over the front end, curing most of the insane mono-wheeling that afflicts the stock RD. I'm not against wheelies, as such, but can live without the front wheel leaving the tarmac when accelerating out of bends.
Handling at the ton was surprisingly stable, although it was a smooth, straight bit of motorway. The bike could be thrown way off line on rough country roads, more, I think, down to its low weight than any chassis defect, although the front end always threatened to go light under serious abuse. There was a slight weave from the back tyre, despite the flash alloy swinging arm I'd fitted but it did not worry me.
102mph on the clock was the most I could extract from the wailing stroker twin. Not bad going for a bike that had led a most varied life. The previous owner, a friend, had bought it in a pretty decrepit state for £125. The engine was out of another bike, although what was left of the old one was still around for spares. The chassis was refurbished during the 18 months he owned the RD, before selling it to me for 650 quid, in fine fettle but a totally indeterminate number of miles under its wheels.
I'd had the bike for five weeks before I'd become sufficiently sure of its characteristics to do an early morning high speed run. I was easily won over by the ease with which the RD could be flicked through curves and sped through town, speed always necessary to make sense of the cafe racer riding position.
I was therefore a bit miffed to have my joy at cracking the ton ruined by the realisation, as I backed off to more legal speeds, that the gearbox was stuck in top! The forty mile ride back in such a tall gear ruined my peace of mind for the rest of the weekend and, more importantly, also burnt out the RD‘s clutch plates. Waves of heat were coming off the engine by the time I pulled up at the previous owner's house — he knowing a lot more about RDs than myself.
He's a good chap, had the crankcases split in a time so short I would still have been trying to get the petrol tube off the carbs. He had done it so often it was second nature to him. I never did quite understand the cause of the problem but it was resolved by using some bits out of the old engine, as was the clutch. In a blur of hands the mill was reassembled and put back in the frame. The whole operation had taken less than 2 hours!
The gearbox and clutch were working again, so I was able to ride home in a less despondent mood. A month went by with a lot of joy. a few near misses when I became overconfident and a set of Pirelli tyres going down to the carcass. They had never really impressed me even when legal, when bald they allowed the chassis into some most disturbing behaviour, that once had me pulling over to throw up my breakfast.
My friend reckoned a set of Avon Roadrunners would be better, and they were. The Yamaha felt much less twitchy and less susceptible to white lines and the like. My confidence in the bend swinging abilities of the little RD grew by leaps and bounds, surprising myself by giving some real hard cases on bigger machines a run for their money. The RD250 can be a real giant killer!
The bike began running very strangely. It felt like the carbs were way out of balance or as if there was a spark plug dying. The two cylinders appeared to be suddenly working against rather than with each other. A real struggle ensued trying to crack a mere 80mph, the engine vibrating like the main bearings were on the way out.
Fearfully, I consulted my friend. It was either something very serious and expensive or the carb slides were worn out. He let me borrow a set of refurbished carbs which made the Yamaha go like a bat out of hell. After some bargaining fifty notes changed hands and l was back in business.
Another three months went by, much more in pleasure than in pain, when I noticed that oil was being consumed at an even more voracious rate than normal. If I wanted to do a 300 mile run I had to strap a five litre can to the back of the seat. There had always been a bit of a smokescreen but now it was becoming a bit absurd. A couple of minutes idling at a junction meant the immediate vicinity looked like a dense fog was closing in.
My mate diagnosed main bearing seals on the way out. A not uncommon problem on hard ridden RD250s. So common, in fact, that he earned a reasonable income reconditioning cranks, so I was lucky to fix the problem for only 60 notes. However, the rebuilt engine never displayed the zest of the old one and l was aware of a lot more intrusive vibration.
I rode the bike for six months, but in a relatively mild and sane fashion, mostly for getting to work and the odd weekend thrash with my mates. Did almost 9000 miles with nothing more than spark plugs, oil and drive chain (pathetically short-lived) replaced.
Somehow, I'd outgrown the delights of the stroker. Riding became more tedious than pleasure filled. Having a friend turned into a vegetable when his RD350 engine locked up solid did not help any. The chassis was showing signs of needing serious money spent with a bit of looseness in the bearings and the Roadrunners about to turn very illegal. When some vague acquaintance decided he was desperate to get in with the RD crowd I did little to dissuade him from handing over £750.
Overall, it had not been a bad experience. Strokers can delight with the way they lay down the power, but they also irritate with their quick wear components and lack of civilisation. Worth experiencing but not repeating.
Rollo