| 4/9/2006 4:14:59 PM | By: John and Margaret Austin |
| This has been one of the hardest years of my life. My mother was diagnosed with cancer in January. She was not expected to live. Eleven hours of surgery and three months in the hospital later, she surprised us all by pulling through. We can all relax, for now Facing the death of my mother brought up many memories of my youth. Life moves almost as quickly as a highflying dirt bike skimming the sky before it settles back onto the hills below. It's easy to forget the things that are most important to you as a kid. Like my Yamaha YZ 250C..
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Rebuilt to Perfection |
| My quest for dirt began when I was about 11-years-old. I found a mini-bike to buy from a friend for $35. That's right, $35. I dogged my Dad for a whole week. He finally said OK and gave me the money. I ran the seven blocks to my friend's house as fast as I could go. His Dad was sitting in the garage drinking beer, as usual. I rushed in flushed with excitement and the anticipation of riding my new bike home - on the streets. I held out the money. He looked at me and shook his head, "No, my boys decided they want to keep their bike. I can't sell it to you". I walked slowly home, becoming more determined to get a dirt bike with each and every step. |
My Childhood Dream |
Finally, next Christmas I got my break and Dad surprised me with a Honda CT70. I couldn't believe it. I was thrilled that my Dad understood my desire for a bike and had tried to come through for me. At the same time, I was mortified that my new bike didn't even have a clutch. My rich neighbor got a Honda SL70. I didn't know what to say. I was too ashamed to ride with my friends so I didn't leave the property. It was just as well because my parents forbid me to take the bike anywhere. But, I rode that bike in the back yard until every blade of grass had disappeared, 70,000 miles worth of riding a dirt bike in a circle. I turned that suburban yard into a dirt bike track and never lost my love for dirt bikes. OK, I have to admit that my brother rode many of those hundreds of miles. We made it our personal goal to set the land speed record for a CT70 moving across a suburban back yard, without crashing into the fence, of course. |
| My father's next unfortunate, but well intended, gift was a brand new Yamaha DT100 - an Enduro class, on and off road bike! I was only 12 years old, not old enough to ride on the street, but I knew this bike was not well suited to ride on the dirt. My brother and I looked on in amazed dismay. This was not at all the dirt bike of our dreams. We had imagined a machine that could master the large dusty hills of dirt and mud not far from our house in Amarillo, Texas. Many of our friends rode there after school and we longed to do the same. Dad was quite pleased with himself. My brother and I didn't have the heart or the nerve to enlighten him. We were given yet another bike that did not truly deliver the off road flavor of knobby tires and a love of dirt. The next day we removed the headlight, taillight, blinkers and the license plate frame. | 
A Closer look |
| We did our best to turn that bike into a respectable off road competitor. Despite the valiant attempt, the bike was not truly designed for dirt. As one of the first oil-injected bikes, it fouled more spark plugs from riding in the dirt than I care to remember. In fact, it was so frequent that I taped spark plugs and a spark plug wrench to the handlebars for a quick fix during dirt biking days of fun. My friends knew as well as I did that the bike couldn't make it through a whole day of thrills and dust without a pick me up spark plug change. If I was lucky, they waited. Many days, I pushed the bike back to the trailer. |
Handle Bars |
I became even more determined to get the dirt bike of my dreams. I clearly could not depend on my parents. They did not understand the need, but I did. I decided to get a job and come up with the funds myself. I lied about my age to get a job washing dishes at K-Bobs Steakhouse. My parents set some limits on how many days I could work. I worked Friday, and Saturday nights and Sunday during the day. I washed dishes till my hands were blistered and pruned. I kept my motorcycle dream clearly in front of me, week after week, month after month. Minimum wage was $2.35 per hour. |
| I knew that fulfilling my dream would take a while. I saved almost all of the money I earned every week. I worked for 2 years to save enough money for my dirt bike and still it wasn't enough. My birthday rolled around and my parents asked me what I wanted this year. I told them my dream: a real dirt bike; made to be driven in the dirt. They were so impressed that I had saved my money for 2 years for a dirt bike that they agreed to pay for half of the one I wanted as my birthday present. I couldn't believe it: the longed for dirt bike was almost in my hands. I thought and studied about the best bikes on the market. One friend had a 1975 Suzuki RM250 and another guy had a 1975 Honda El Senore 250. These were two of the best dirt bikes around at the time. I wanted something new and different, unique to my self. This bike was going to be something really special! The Yamaha YZ 250 was the state of the art with mono-shock rear suspension and nitrous oxide gas front forks. I decided on it. That's when Dad really came through. He didn't like the big dealerships, so we looked at bikes in all kinds of venues, including the basement of some guy's house. We drove all over town and to several different counties looking at dealerships for the best selection and price. We spent time together just the two of us for several weekends. One day we drove to a town an hour away from home. It wasn't even a Yamaha shop. It was called Meers Oil Company. They had about 10 bikes in a small show room. This locale actually had the first 1976 YZ250 that we had seen on our tour. I remember sitting on the bike in that funky little shop and saying to my Dad "This is the one!" We left the bike there with a deposit and came back a week later on my birthday, April 17 1975. I paid everything I had earned and my parents paid the rest. |
| I rode that bike as often as I could, riding the trails I had been on before with my friends. This time things were very different! Finally, I was the one in the lead and I never had to push the bike back to the trailer. I had always known that I had the skill to ride well, but I had never before had an opportunity to test myself. I rode every day after school and into the evening. I was thrilled to finally reach my goal. A 250 dirt bike had way more power than the Yamaha 100 Enduro class bike. I felt like I could fly. A local photographer came by and took pictures of us taking some of the jumps. He gave us one of me high in the air flying with phone wires in the background. My Dad kept this picture in his office for years. | 
Every detail has been restored, even the spokes |
| Finally, I had a truly competitive bike and I could live my dream of motocross competitor. Although I never raced competitively, I rode as often and as hard as I could. Our local trails were fun and challenging with many hills, potholes and sharp turns, but it wasn't a large area. Whenever I could, I went with my friends to different places to ride on the weekends. One of my favorites was along the Red River, a most often dried out riverbed that could change quickly with enough rainfall. The Panhandle of Texas offered mostly large dry dirt hills with steep drops and few trees or trails; a challenging terrain that could keep a 15-year old rider with the bike of his dreams both thrilled and happy. Misfortune hit the next year as the damage from a 35-foot fall out of a tree caught up with me. I had to have surgery to correct the problem in my left ear so that I had hope of continuing to hear. The surgery didn't last long, but the recovery did. The intervention in my inner ear left me dizzy and unsteady for months. For a while, even walking straight was a challenge. The YZ250 sat in the garage gathering dust. I often went out to the garage and looked at it longingly. I made plans for what I would try as soon as I could ride again. I even made advanced plans with my friends, only to be forced to cancel again and again. After I finally regained my balance, the riding restriction continued because of fear that the loud noise of the engine would disrupt the delicate reconstruction of my inner ear. I could not ride my incredible bike for almost an entire year. When I was finally free, I didn't know what to do with myself. Although my love for the bike hadn't changed, my 16-year old interests had expanded into a desire for a car and a girlfriend. I didn't ride much. My parents divorced and I moved with my mother to an apartment far from good dirt bike locales. The bike sat silent more than it was ridden. It seemed like everything had changed. |
This bike has won various awards |
Well, not everything, I still loved my YZ250. But, I couldn't find a way to fit it back into my life. I had only ridden the bike for about a year, but I rode it hard and it showed. Gradually, my love for the bike shifted from wanting to ride it into wanting to restore it. I bought all the parts soon after I made this decision, while they were still available. Although it was an unusual idea, I planned a ground up restoration. I began working on the restoration in 1981 and worked on the bike gradually over time. It has remained in a climate-controlled atmosphere, namely my mother's living room or my own bedroom. |
| I took everything off the bike, sand blasted the frame, and repainted it Black Emron. Then I began to slowly put it back together with polished aluminum powder coated and chrome plated parts. The original parts were completely revamped and maintained. The motor has been entirely rebuilt. The restoration did include some new parts: high end crank bearings, rod, rod bearings, seals, gaskets, cables, tires, and a 2-ring piston (an improvement from the 1-ring piston that came stock on the bike). The factory cylinder was bored 80 thousands overbore, all ports were polished, and the cylinder head was shaved and polished. The original MIC. carburetor was rejetted. A fiberglass reed valve injection system was installed to quicken the fuel response. A custom airflow system was also added to improve performance. The bike's appearance is as awesome as is its running capacity. The hubs are gloss black powder coated. The folks at Advanced Plating were a bit reluctant to coat magnesium hubs, but they agreed and it turned out great! Every aluminum part, including the rims, is polished aluminum powder coated. Every steel nut, bolt and washer is chromed. In fact, all the spokes are original and each one is chrome plated! The newly painted parts were valuable in themselves. I stored them in my dresser displacing my clothes, but keeping the parts secure. I focused on the fine detail of the reconstruction as if the bike was a work of art. This was an expensive endeavor and I spent a good deal of both money and time on this project. Both of these investments are evident when looking at this incredible dirt bike. |
| Finally the restoration was complete and the bike is truly a mint, showroom condition museum piece. Although all the parts are original, the aluminum powder coated and chrome plated details give the bike a custom appearance. I have carefully maintained my masterpiece in a climate controlled environment over the years and brought it out only occasionally for a bike show. People are always amazed and impressed at the uniqueness of a dirt bike built for show. This impressive bike has placed in every competition in which it has been entered, including 1st place at the Second Annual HRCA Bike and Car Show in 1999 and 3rd place in the Antique Vintage competition held during the Middle Tennessee Motorcycle Expo in 2002. | 
A Work of Art |
A vintage dream! |
When I think back upon the history of this bike, I realize that my ear surgery and the resultant riding restriction were probably the key factors that saved this bike from the fate of all its brothers: gradual destruction through hard riding in the dirt and eventually resting in pieces in someone's back shed. That's what makes this bike so unique. It escaped the results of extended hard riding and was maintained not only as one intact piece of motorcycle beauty but also as a rugged showpiece representing an earlier time. This YZ250c is a true motorcycle dream. |
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