The old rat of a Kawasaki 250 triple was exhumed from a shed that had also seen better days. The widow waved away my offer of a fiver, just before the wooden structure began to collapse. An hour later I had cleaned up the mess and was all set to start my life with the KH250. I don't know how long it had been there, long enough to seize the chain solid and for the tyres to perish. A mate with a van saved me hours of hard slog pushing the old heap home. Home being a council tip, the bike looked perfectly placed in the living room - I could watch Eastenders whilst figuring out the mechanics of the triple.
First job was to hacksaw off the chain, which took most of the day, the split link was hidden away and I could not get to it. Every bolt and screw on the bike was corroded in solid, rather than coming undone they snapped off the moment I exerted an excess of pressure on the spanners (usually by hitting them with my 10 pound hammer). A helicoil kit was nicked from the local engineering shop... after a couple of weeks I knew which bits were OK and which were only fit for the scrap-heap.
What emerged was that I had a good frame, forks (if you ignored a few patches of rust), wheels (ditto), tank and seat. The guards were in a really disgusting state as were the lights and exhausts. The engine required further effort as the cylinders refused to budge despite taking a pounding from my hammer. After an excess of hassle, I eventually levered off the cylinders after breaking up the seized in pistons. It needed a whole new top end, no question.
I split the crankcases expecting to see the usual horror story but found instead a pristine set of gears and crankshaft. Thus encouraged, I found a new top end locally for twenty notes. It took three months to put the machine back on to the road, total cost somewhere around £100. For that money I had a running machine in a decidedly tatty state with all sorts of tricks up its sleeve for relieving the daily boredom that afflicted my unemployed state.
Surprisingly, top speed attempts were stimulating, with an indicated 90mph coming up pronto on the local race... er, dual carriageway. This speed was accompanied, admittedly, by the kind of vibes that blurred vision and caused various bits of motorcycle to fall off, as well as the legendary speed wobbles that made its bigger brothers so famous... well, the shocks and forks were really shot.
I must say that it did not really bother me. I had expected something that would hardly push 70mph, and in finding I had a relative speed king, at least in hack circles, I was willing to forgive a lot - even if the machinations of the chassis often threatened a premature end to my life.
As well as wobbling like the frame was made from jelly above 70mph, the KH also leaps around a lot in corners. Even after I acquired a set of used Koni shocks this trait did not entirely evaporate... it may have been a standard feature of a new bike or merely down to something bent in the chassis.
A feature I think that was present from new was spark plugs that would do no more than 1000 miles... fouled plugs are a fact of life in town. A bit disturbing in the wet as they can suddenly clear, throwing the bike into mad wheelie mode at the most inconvenient moments. I think on balance that the cagers and peds end up more frightened by such happenings than myself, so it’s a jolly good thing.
Even worse are the points, needing adjustment every 700 miles to stop the motor going out of tune. There are three sets to adjust or replace. Ignoring them reduces performance to the level of an NSU Quickly. Not balancing the carbs every 500 miles produces so much vibration it's impossible to distinguish between riding the Kwak and a Bonnie bored out to 850cc running on nitro, stuck in first gear at 8000rpm.
The triple only makes it as a hack in appearance. I've gone through chains in 3000 miles, pads in 5000 miles (even though it's a very poor stopper) and back Roadrunners in about 3000 miles (although they were part worn to start with). The bloody thing gulps a litre of oil every 200 miles and a gallon of fuel in 30 miles. If I ever stopped to add up the cost, I'd throw the heap off the nearest cliff.
Unless plugs are brand new, starting is very poor. Requiring anything up to twenty kicks to ignite the juices, there is also a tendency to stall in town traffic when the motor starts to overheat. With the already mentioned tendency to foul its plugs the bike is always an entertaining way in which to travel. I know, entirely my own fault for not caning the wreck along the pavement...
After about 6000 miles of mindless abuse the motor seized up solid again. The seizure more or less coincided with the demise of the front disc which had finally given in to the corrosive crud thrown up by the front wheel. The machine was rendered completely immobile and only carted into the back of a van by three of us hurling its 360lbs with all our might, cursing all the time.
An engine and front brake were acquired locally for the total cost of £75, which was more than I could afford but there was no way I could keep off the bike... I used to sit on the machine whilst watching TV in the living room, making funny engine noises much to the annoyance of my parents and brothers! The replacement motor was a runner out of a machine that had been thrown down the road and then crushed by a passing lorry! A few bits needed to be swapped but it went in after a fashion.
For some reason this didn’t have the go of the earlier effort and the wail out of the multitude of rusted silencers was much more plaintive. By the time 80mph was up it was into a frenzy of vibes that boded ill for engine longevity. So, in a frenzy myself, I hurtled down the steepest hill I could find forcing the bike up to an indicated 95mph, a record for me.
The gearbox played up after that, slipping out of fourth and fifth when any kind of power was applied. Perhaps because the rev counter kept hitting the stop, the motor didn't last more than 3400 miles. Gulp! I was able to combine various engine bits I had around to resurrect the hack. This time she was even slower, I mean 55mph and deep clouds of smoke was just too embarrassing. I became notorious in our area for riding the wreck every day in this state and had a few brushes with law which I only survived by riding down alleyways too narrow for the plod to pursue.
Even so, the bike was locked away in the safety of the living room every evening. I didn't bother with MOTs, road tax, insurance or even buying petrol. There were always plenty of yuppie cars to plunder not far from where I, er, resided. These prats didn’t even complain when they turned up when I was requisitioning their fuel. God help us if they are ever called up to fight in a war - most people like myself would rather spend the time in prison than fight for a lot of rich gits.
Much to everyone’s disgust, this engine lasted for 8500 miles, or thereabouts as the speedo cable snapped and wasn’t replaced. Various bit of the chassis were in such a state that there was no way the machine would pass an MOT - slack forks, pogo-stick shocks, seeping petrol tank, to name just three of the more obvious.
The next time the engine seized was the last. I was doing 50mph at the time and the back wheel locked solid. Pulling in the clutch didn't have any effect as the transmission locked up, too. We skidded to a trembling halt, clouds of smoke coming off the dead engine, if not out of my ears. It wasn’t so much a matter of pushing the bike home as throwing the rotted heap into someone’s front garden. I didn’t even have to bother with the number-plate as I never bothered to send in the registration docs, bad little citizen that I am.
I haven’t got any conclusions about my time with the Kawasaki triple other than it had a fine exhaust note, went like shit when in good nick, handled like a bent C50 and was hugely expensive to run if you were on the dole. Would I have another? Like yesterday, mate!
Scott Rogers