It all started when a friend said he had a CZ250 going cheap. £50 poorer (well, he did promise a van load of spares) I was soon scratching round the lanes of Berkshire on the original and almost unworn Barum tyres - fortunately for Scottish Widows, it was dry. Seven years of only being ridden when the weather was truly vile had blemished the pride of the Czechoslovak Soviet Socialist Republic so I stripped off the six years of hand-painted Dulux black and plastered on some equally horrific red brush cellulose; much more to my perverted aesthetic taste. Bit of grey Hammerite on the remains of the wheel rims and spokes and it really didn’t look that bad, if you sort of squinted a bit and intoned, "only fifty notes, a real bargain." And since then I’ve never looked back (the mirrors were missing). I just keep my helmet on and the revs up when I'm talking to one of my diminishing circle of friends.
Viewed objectively as a vehicle, the CZ isn’t too bad. The TLS front brake works well, the handling is good and at least it doesn’t vibrate like my BSA Bantam (a collector's item until you come to try to sell it). It isn’t perfect (but then neither am I according to my friends). For instance the gearbox works on the same principle as (the so-called) slickshift on fifties Triumphs, and likewise linking up the clutch to the gear change fouls up the change, making it impossible to change gear cleanly.
On the relatively sweet Triumph box you got a series of lurches, with the CZ’s agricultural item the effect is similar to that produced by alternatively grabbing the front brake lever and releasing it, only in reverse. After a few months of commuting and riding for pleasure (honest), I was beginning to get the hang of things. It is a bit better without the clutch lever, only now I keep trying to change gear on the A10 in the same way.
Another CZ speciality, the gear lever doubles as a kickstart (would I lie to you, my son?) and its on the left-hand side of the power unit, so don’t stall it at the lights unless you're a left-footed Olympic gymnast who isn’t easily embarrassed in public.
Speaking of drawing attention from the hoi polloi, the exhaust note ain’t bad, but the bike produces copious clouds of blue smoke even on its meagre 3% petroil mixture. Perhaps the engine is burning gearbox oil, but most of the other CZs (both of them) that I’ve seen were also making more smoke than a battleship under attack. Still, it keeps Volvo drivers well clear of your rear number plate.
One minor problem cropped up when I decided that the L78 spark plugs were a little on the optimistic side for anything so snail like, so I tried to buy softer NGKs. Sorry, we don’t acknowledge CZs, only MZ ("they are different, sir?), but by looking it up in the Champion book and spending a few minutes cracking the NGK secret code whilst my wife walked out of Halfords in a fit of sheer boredom, I fitted B7HS and they seem to be fine.
The ride seems pretty comfortable - if you're used to riding Brit dinosaurs with two inches of suspension travel a road drill would seem luxurious - and even the old dragon says the pillion’s OK, though I don't think she’s fond a the clouds of blue smoke at traffic lights.
It’s the social side that’s the problem. You have to be adept at fighting off endless jibes about the thing. Have you seen the comedy sketch where three men of progressively lower physical height and social status berate each other? Well, the most vitriolic comments come from MZ owners, presumably they don’t have anyone else to look down on (Tomos moped riders, Neval Cossack fanatics?). Fortunately, I've had years of experience of this verbal combat because I drive a Skoda. Nuff said, chaps?
Chris Washington