Yamaha – The ExhaustNotes Blog

Break-Up Bikes (my journey to a Yamaha TW 200)

By Bobbie Surber

Can we talk about an important matter that has been on my mind?

Do women who ride motorcycles handle breakups differently compared to women who don’t rider?

It’s a thought that tickles the imagination of everyone at some point, right? Well, maybe not everyone, but hey, this is my little tale, so here we go. Picture this: it was summer, I had just experienced a breakup that left my heart in pieces, and an opportunity for a soul-searching solo ride presented itself. In that moment of contemplation, I assessed my true desires in life, and you know what came to mind? Dirt and sand riding. Yeah, I’m talking about that exhilarating feeling of kicking up dust and cruising through sandy terrain. Don’t get me wrong, my beloved Triumph Tiger 900 (affectionately named Tippi) will always hold the top spot in my heart. But hey, a girl needs a little something on the side, a petite and playful companion for short rides. You catch my drift, right? I know some of you guys can relate! Ha!

Fast forward through the summer months and as August approached a dear friend (who also happens to be an extraordinary adventure rider) reached out to me. By then, I had been on my solo riding journey for over two months, feeling both physically drained and financially pinched. And then, like a shining beacon, my friend, let’s call her Destini, introduced me to the elusive TW 200—the side cheating bike of my dreams. This unicorn of a motorcycle was up for sale in Southern California, and armed with a few snapshots and a contact number, I was ready to make my move.

Now, you won’t believe the audacity I had, claiming to be financially constrained but wasting no time in contacting Eric, the seller. He was enjoying a leisurely dinner with friends on a perfect summer evening when I burst into his life with overwhelming excitement. I must have been yapping like a caffeinated squirrel, leaving him wondering if I was either on some mind-altering substance or going through a manic phase. But can you blame me? I had set my heart on that bike! It wasn’t just a want—it was a dire post-breakup remedy! A 2015 Yamaha TW 200 with a mere 800 miles on it listed for only $4000. Surprise, surprise, Eric turned out to be a gem of a person and agreed to a small Venmo deposit to secure the deal.

Now, here’s where the plot thickens. I was miles away in the Olympic peninsula of Washington while the prized possession awaited me in sunny southern California. One could say I needed a trusty sidekick, and luckily, a kind friend volunteered to inspect and purchase the bike on my behalf.

Before I knew it I was the proud owner of a TW 200. Come September, picture me cruising through the neighborhood on a splendid Sunday afternoon, giggling like a mischievous child. That little bike felt so lightweight and petite. Its chunky rear tire was the only contrasting feature. And would you believe it? My shattered heart seemed to magically mend, thanks to a mere $4000 and the promise of thrilling rides in Baja and my enchanting town of Sedona, conquering as much dirt as possible! Love was in the air once again, and my mind was filled with visions of the adventures that lay ahead.

And thus, my riding comrades, this is the tale of how I acquired my very own break-up bike!

The Yamaha TW 200 is a unique dual-sport motorcycle known for its distinctive features and versatility. Here are some key details about the Yamaha TW 200:

- Engine. It’s powered by a 196cc, single-cylinder, air-cooled four-stroke engine, designed for reliability and easy maintenance.
- Fat Tires. One of its most recognizable features is its oversized tires—both front and rear are unusually wide for a motorcycle of its size. The fat tires, with dimensions of 130/80-18 rear and 130/80-18 front, contribute to its off-road capabilities and stability on various terrains.
- Low Seat Height. The TW 200 boasts a low seat height, making it accessible and comfortable for riders of varying heights and skill levels. This characteristic also aids in maneuverability, especially off-road.
- Suspension. It’s equipped with long-travel telescopic front forks and a rear mono-shock suspension, providing decent travel for off-road adventures while maintaining comfort on the road.
- Utility and Design. Its design combines elements of a traditional dirt bike and a street motorcycle. It features a high-mounted exhaust, a large, round headlight, a rear rack for cargo, and a simple, utilitarian appearance.
- Availability. While production and availability may vary by region and year, the TW 200 has gained popularity for its unique design and capabilities, which contributes to its demand in the used market.

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ExNotes Product Review: Yamaha RD350 Kveldwulf Top End Replacement Set

By Joe Gresh

Parts for Yamaha’s RD350 are fairly easy to get but that didn’t stop me from hoarding a new top end set from eBay for the low, low price of $190. For that paltry sum you get two brand new cylinders, two brand new pistons, two brand new ring sets and two brand new wristpins with keepers. My buddy Bodden tried to warn me off the kit saying that the Teutonic name was a ruse and that Yamaha parts are far superior and I believe him. Still, $190 for an entire new top end? I had to bite.

First, there’s nothing wrong with my RD350; it runs great. I bought the Kveldwulf kit more as a spare and hedge against future scarcity. The kit is made in China; you know how international relations are going. We could be cut off at any moment. Unlike many people I don’t have a kneejerk reaction to Chinese products. I give them a chance to see if they are any good. In retrospect I probably should have bought an American made replacement RD350 top end kit (and I will if a company in the USA ever decides to manufacture one).

This particular top end kit has its problems. The biggest problem is that the right side piston won’t actually fit through the right side bore. The piston slides in about halfway and stops. Of course I could force it but the bike would only run a few minutes before it seized up. The left side is better but still feels a bit tight to me. What this means is I’ll have to have the cylinders bored to suit the piston size, a process that will probably cost more than the whole Kveldwulf kit.

The ports on the kit cylinders are sharp edged and dirty looking. I think I’ll need to chamfer the port edges before using the cylinders or the thing will probably snag a ring. It wouldn’t hurt to run a burr through the ports to knock down some of the roughness either. When I unpacked the box there were quite a few loose bits of aluminum sprinkled throughout. A thorough cleaning is in order before bolting these parts onto my RD350. So the kit is not at a plug and play type deal.

The Kveldwulf pistons come with a Teflon-looking coating. I usually don’t like any of these new-fangled coatings and prefer plain old aluminum. I don’t have my RD350 apart so I can’t check the cut-away skirt and windows to see if the stock piston is the same. I’d also like to compare the ports to a stock cylinder to see how close the new stuff comes to original.

My best translation of Kveldwulf is “night wolf” and the prospects are indeed dim for this dog of an RD350 top end kit. I haven’t decided if I’m going to send it back and put up with that hassle or keep the kit and spend the time and money to remedy all its faults. I suppose if you had a RD350 that was missing its top end or it was severely corroded with broken fins the Kveldwulf kit would move you closer to the goal of a running motorcycle. You’ll have some sweat equity in the thing for sure.

If you have a stock RD350 and want to experiment with altering the ports but don’t want to mess up the original stuff this kit would be a cheap way to learn about two-stroke power bands without risking a ton of money. Then again, maybe I just got a dud. I’ll try to contact the eBay seller; they might take this top end set back and send me another one that is machined correctly. As delivered, I would only use the Kveldwulf kit as a last resort if my top end were totally wiped out, which is a hard thing to do with all the oversize pistons available. I’ll keep you updated whatever happens.

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An SR 500 On The Block

By Joe Berk

When Joe Gresh posted his article yesterday about downsizing his project list and knowing his limitations, we received an interesting comment from one of our readers:

Now that your flush with cash, how about a SR500, Its on my chopping block. With my recent dive in to the Ducati end of the pool I’m gonna keep the 1974 Suzuki Titan and the 99 Suzuki Bandit 1200s and the Ducati Monster S2R 1000… Thinking I have finally done it…. then boom, Hey come look at a 1965 BSA C15… Free. Dammit

Well, that comment sure had my attention. I’ve always wanted an SR500 Yamaha. So I wrote to Dragonknee about it, and here’s what he told me:

I do have photos and I’m asking 1850.00 for it. I do have extras but with those I’m into it about 2300 bucks. I have a spare motor and a bunch of period correct extras. Supertrapp and Lockhart oil cooler along with the parts to do a dual disc set up and just tons of other things.

In addition to the photo at the top of this blog, here are three more.

Dragonknee is up in the Pacific Northwest, and that’s a bit far for me. The bike seems like a hell of a deal. If you’re interested, leave a comment with your email address.

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Bobbie’s Solo Baja Ride: Part 1

By Bobbie Surber

Discovering motorcycles came late in life for me. My first ride was in 2014 on the back of a KTM. From the first ride I knew I was hooked, and I knew being on the back was not for me. By January 2015, I purchased my first bike, a 2006 Yamaha 225 XT. I drove from Sedona, AZ, to Denver, CO, to pick her up. On the drive home, I kept looking at her in my rearview mirror and dreaming of my future adventures. That is, once I learned to ride!

A day later I was on a quiet street teaching myself how to clutch and ride. The clutching came easy, and I had no fear as a newbie. Soon I was competent enough to go down the block, then to the store and friends’ houses, and soon off-road. Boy, I fell a lot at first, but I was surrounded by a group of guys who encouraged and taught me the basics. Many remain mentors to this day. I still have that little 225 XT and would never sell her or give her away. She will be with me till the end.

I soon added a Honda 750 Shadow to my new addiction and split my time between dirt and road adventures. It seemed a perfect balance as I gained more skills off-road with the 225 XT and could now venture further without trailering as I rode the Shadow. This led me to my third bike, new to the USA: A BMW 310 (a single cylinder in hot demand in Europe and Asia). She was a red bike far faster than my little goat, the Yamaha.

With a bike that was great off-road while still able to handle the open roads, I set my sights on several bucket list trips, including the Pacific Coast Highway (Highway 1 up the California coast) and the Sierra Nevadas. These two trips in 2018 gave me the confidence to plan another solo ride. This time I would ride Baja, the peninsula in northwestern Mexico bounded to the north by the United States, to the east by the Sea of Cortez, and to the south and west by the Pacific Ocean. I set my plans for a Spring ride, but a trip to Hawaii and paddling the Colorado River got in the way in May, delaying my departure to June.

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Adding a new 40-liter Wolfman tail bag, I departed Sedona, AZ, heading for a small town south of Tijuana, Alisito, known to the gringos as La Fonda. This was my first time crossing the US border on a bike, challenging my skills while negotiating what seemed like 100 lanes with traffic darting between the lanes. It was soon my turn to cross at San Ysidro south of San Diego. I had done this several times in a car, but what a whole new ball game on a bike!

Turning hard to the right, I made my way to Mexico Highway 1, following the Pacific coast out of Tijuana. The air was crisp even on a June morning as I pulled into the left lane to pass a line of trucks and a group of protesters, soon finding my groove, indulging in music through my helmet speaker and enjoying the sights along the way. An hour later, I pulled into the parking lot at Dmytri’s Restaurant, well-known by locals and visiting gringos alike. It was a time to meet friends and show off my new girl (BMW, to clarify!). The margaritas and conversations flowed as I assured all of my friends that I was utterly competent to ride Baja solo in the growing heat of June.

Bravada got me thru till the morning of my departure, then a massive wall of apprehension flooded me. WTH, I was not competent enough to take on this challenge solo in Mexico! A repeated flaw as I once again found myself vacillating between the urge to push myself and my endless fear of failure and the unknown. I did what I do best, shoved the fear down, and got on my bike heading south on Highway 1 while enjoying the ocean breeze and the endless views of the Pacific Ocean. All the while, I negotiated traffic and the epic potholes that ranged from minor to “might swallow my bike” in one epic plunge.

With the efficiency of the toll road, I was soon in the traffic and mayhem of Ensenada, a port city that is a frequent stop for cruise ships. The smell of exhaust and burning trash contrasted against the street stalls grilling fresh fish and carne asada. I could not resist and soon found a place to pull over for a cold Tecate and a plate full of tacos. The local girls working the roadside restaurant were enthralled with my bike, asking for photos on it it with the sultry hotness that only a Latina could pull off while wearing an apron. I accommodated their requests for pictures and answered a soon-to-be-frequent question of “Solo?” with “Si, Solo,” followed by “No, no, where is your man?” Ha, I didn’t even have a man at home, let alone on this trip, but I had someone I was thinking about a lot on this trip (a story I will tell in another post).

With Ensenada’s noise and challenges behind me, I headed out of town to a campground with hot springs and soaking pools. The ride getting there was all dirt, rocky as hell, with several water crossings. These were my first water crossings on my own. I was both thrilled and nervous as I gave the throttle a firm twist and flew through creating a satisfying rooster tail. It was a short day full of first-time accomplishments that felt right and bolstered my confidence for the adventure ahead. I paid my entrance fee of 200 pesos, about $10, and proceeded to enjoy the hot tubs, complete with little cabanas and a hot shower.

The next day I found myself back on the road. My destination would be the tiny town of Cataviña, a community of fewer than 200 residents. Cataviña is known for cave paintings, colossal rocks mixed with desert vegetation, and epic sunsets. This place could be on Mars with its endless boulders stacked at impossible angles and the stark beauty of the high desert plateau.

The day called for 380 kilometers, about a six-hour ride without stops. The morning started slow and easy as I retraced my ride back down the mountain and through the water crossings of the day before. After a quick stop at the OXXO convenience store for a burrito and coffee, I was on the road heading down Highway 1. The road went into the interior, passing through several tiny dusty towns and a few newfound favorites, including San Vicente and San Quintin. One of my favorite finds is Don Eddie’s Landing Hotel and Restaurant, an oasis with comfortable rooms, sports fishing, and even a few camping spots. I settled in at their patio, enjoying the views of the Pacific and Eddie’s legendary hospitality. This place is an ideal rest spot for enjoying a perfect plate of shrimp ceviche with just the right intensity of lime and chilis, complete with Don Eddie’s legendary hand-crafted margaritas, the likes of which I’ve never found in the USA.

Reluctantly leaving Eddie’s, I continued south on Highway 1, turning inland at El Rosario de Arriba, climbing up from sea level to 1841 feet. The elevation change did little to abate the day’s growing heat. I arrived intending to camp, but the reality of a 98-degree afternoon soon had me sapped. I pulled into the only commercial enterprise besides a little store across the street and a few tiny restaurants.

The Hotel Misíon Santa María – Cataviña looked like she was built in the colonial era; in reality, I learned she was built by the Mexican government as part of their tourism outreach. With a courtyard full of flowers and mature trees, I found a haven and counted my good fortunes to stay in such opulent digs (opulent compared to my humble tent). After securing my room for the night, I quickly dumped my gear, splashed some cold water on my face, and confirmed that I looked like I had ridden in the heat all day. I landed outside in the shade near the little bar enjoying my margarita. The bartender generously gave me endless glasses of water while we chatted about the heat, my bike, and his childhood in Arizona. Soon it was time to head to bed. I reached down to grab my bag and Delorme. A momentary shock as my Delorme was nowhere to be found. The little safety device would allow me to signal for help if needed and text my friends and family when off the beaten path and far out of cell coverage. The bartender and manager helped me search the grounds to no avail. I gave up and went to bed, cursing myself for my carelessness.

The following day bright and early I rode across the street to purchase the only available gas in this remote region from locals selling gas in plastic drums and liter-size soda bottles. Saying a prayer for the safety of my engine, I had them fill up my tank and MSR fuel bottle I always carry for the just-in-case moments.

Soon I was on the road headed to Guerrero Negro. The wind brushed over me gently with no hint of the high wind advisory posted for later that day. I left the unpleasantness of my Delorme loss behind and leaned into the joy of the ride. As it was a Sunday, I had the road to myself, with the added blessing of many commercial vehicles being home for the day. This was precisely what I had been dreaming of. As the starkness of the desert unfolded in front of my bike, I knew how lucky I was to be on this adventure! I was once again reminded to grab my dreams, ignore the naysayers, and embrace the adventure ahead.

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RD350 Yamaha Update

The 1974 RD350 has been faultlessly buzzing around south-central New Mexico these last few months without any attention. The old girl was dribbling oil and banging around on her front suspension and the tires that came on the bike were old and cracked. In addition, the rear 4.00×18 tire was too large and rubbed the fender over bumps. The bike kind of bobbed in turns and I didn’t want to take a long ride on those rotten tires. I needed to give the old bike some love.

What held me back was the Harbor Freight tire changer. I was in the middle of modifying the tire machine and I just lost interest. The monsoon rains have precluded any concrete work so I decided to finish the tire machine.

One of the issues with the HF tire machine is that the center shaft is too big for older motorcycles. The center shaft is a pivot point for your duck bar or tire levers. Most new bikes come with big axles and the stock part will work fine on those. I cut a piece of ½” rod 12-inches long and turned out a spacer to go between the factory center bar and the new ½-inch piece. My welding is atrocious but you have to cut me some slack as I can’t see the puddle and weld by sound. Now I can center-post smaller diameter axles without anyone crying about it.

The HF tire machine has three rim-grabber things. Two of the grabbers are pinned into place and one is screw driven. When it works right it really locks the wheel in place, essentially giving you a second set of hands. The grabbers were a sloppy fit on their square-tube arms and it’s hard enough getting all the fingers lined up at one time without stuff moving around. Shimming the grabbers with thin aluminum tightened up the machine and made fitting the rim to the grabbers easier.

While not required for the skinny RD350 tires, I made a duck-bar to assist with bead removal. The duck is a plastic piece that fits over the rim. You use a lever to pull the bead up over the duck’s head and then slide the duck along the rim with the duck bar. The plastic helps prevent scarring your nice chrome or aluminum rims. Needless to say, use lots of tire lube as the first ¼-way around the rim is a hard pull. The duck is actually a part from commercial tire changing machines and it works great on wider rims like you’d find on a sport bike or cars.

I made a steel piece to fit the bolt holes of the duck and welded a 4-foot long, 1” square tube to the duck mount. It’s also an ugly weld but thanks to the miracle of grinders and thick paint it doesn’t look so bad. I messed up by welding the bar to the duck foot square, or at 90 degrees to the bolt axis if that makes any sense to you. This meant that it didn’t sit flush to the curve of the rim when using the center pivot. The pivot point was right where the bar wanted to be.

A quick bending session tweaked the duck-bar enough to be functional. I’ll get it right next time. The duck-bar worked well on the back wheel of the RD350 but the front rim was too skinny. There wasn’t enough room for the duck so I did it the old fashioned way with tire levers.

I bought two Shinko SR712P tires for the RD350, a 3.00×18 for the front and a 3.50×18 for the rear. These are the stock sizes and they don’t rub the fender. The rear looks pretty skinny, I’d like to get a 3.75×18 but I can’t find one. I’ll need new brake shoes for the rear drum but that will have to wait for another maintenance session.

The fork seal replacement was pretty straightforward and so I managed to screw it up. The RD350 has a chrome cover over the brake hose manifold. This cover makes loosening the lower triple clamp pinch bolts impossible unless you remove the top triple clamp and the headlight fork ears. Then the chrome cover can slide up allowing access to the pinch bolts. That was way too much work for me so I decided to pull the sliders off and leave the rest of the fork on the motorcycle.

The RD350 fork slider has a very thin seal retaining area and when I gave the seal a gentle exploratory pry a tiny piece of the damn fork tube cracked by the snap ring groove. I was so upset I didn’t take a photo. Anyway, I worked the cracked piece off and filed the area smooth to make it look like it was made that way. I was temped to do the other side to make them match.

I ended up clamping a big, galvanized carriage bolt into the vice; the head fit behind the seal nicely. Then I cut a piece of PVC pipe that fit over the thin area and contacted the solid part of the fork tube where the dust cover stops. After that a rubber hammer knocked the seal out. It was clear sailing from then on; I reassembled the fork sliders onto the tubes and dumped 5 ounces of 10/30 synthetic motor oil into each fork leg.

For the little amount of work I did the difference was amazing. The RD350 falls into turns with the greatest of ease and holds the line like a supermarket customer getting cash back from a personal check. It feels like power steering. The bounciness is gone and the bike feels much calmer. Now that I can push the bike a little harder those cheap, aftermarket rear shocks are showing a lack of damping. I didn’t notice it before because the front was bouncing so much. The tires are skinny but feel like they grip well. I don’t road race on the street but if I did I could hustle the purple RD350 through the mountains pretty fast.

There’s more to do on the RD350 but I like riding the bike so much I don’t want to disable the thing. I have to fix a leaking oil tank sight glass, re-grease the steering head bearings, replace the rear brake shoes, clean the carbs, and on and on. All that can wait because the sun is out (in the morning before the monsoon rains) and I’ve got to ride this bike.

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The 2022 Tarantula 100

They say time flies and that’s corny-true but I think time accelerates the closer you get to the end. We have been living on Tinfiny Ranch for 6 years now and I have missed the Prairie Dawgs Tarantula 100 desert race each of those years. It seemed like there was always something that needed doing or I was off somewhere else. I usually hear about the race after it has run and say to myself: I’ve got to make it down to mile marker 45 and check it out next year.

This year was the someday year. My old high school chum Greg was in town so we burbled Brumby down Highway 54 early Sunday to catch the second day of Prairie Dawg action. The event is held at a huge off-road playpen about halfway between El Paso and Alamogordo. When we first moved to La Luz I attended a Prairie Dawg club meeting. They were a great bunch of guys and gals (another of those things I keep meaning to do is join The Dawgs). I’m not real big on organized motorcycle events preferring instead to toss about on the floor picking up cat hair like a gigantic sticky lint roller. To enter a race, to pre-run the course, to get in physical shape so that I could hold on to a bucking 1971 Yamaha 360 for 100 miles of desert seems like a lot of effort.

Effort that could be better spent consuming beer and eating beef jerky in the warm February New Mexico sunshine. So that’s what me and Greg did. We arrived on a perfect day just as the riders meeting was ending and wasted no time getting to the start line. The PD riders lined up according to class. The start is dead-engine. When the flagman, who gave no 30-second board or hint of when he was going to drop the flag, gave the signal you had to start your bike and off you go. It was so unexpected I missed several photos. With the dead-engine start, the electric start bikes had a bit of an advantage over the kick start bikes.

The race is run in 50-mile loops. When the riders come back through the pit area they ride underneath a red, pipefitting type of arch where the transponder records their time. We had a bit of a wait after the last class was on their way so we got our chairs, beer and beef jerky and settled down to discuss how old we were getting, the various ailments we were suffering under and to try and remember some long ago event that the other guy was reminiscing about.

One hour later the first of the Pro Class arrived at the transponder. Most everyone took on a gallon of gas, a swig of water and were on their way for the second lap. Some guys pushed their bikes under the yellow pit-tape ribbon and called it a day. Greg and I set up behind a hill at a spot that had a good view of the last mile or so of the course and the red transponder arbor. Some pits were located before the transponder, some after, but I guess it didn’t matter as the second lap was the one that counted. The sun beat down, the early morning chill was long gone, and our world became a balmy 70-degree red dirt sand dune. We shed our jackets and settled into a mellow, New Mexico low simmer.

Greg was heading to Fort Stockton, Texas later in the day so we decided to hang around until the first youth-class rider completed his lap. That came around 2 hours into the race or almost exactly twice the time it took the first pro-class rider. We folded up our chairs, shook the sand off and went back to the Alamogordo Moose Lodge where Greg had left his gigantic motorhome. I read later on the Prairie Dawg’s Facebook page that there was some trouble with the scoring system and I’m not real sure who won. I figure why mess up such a nice day out with accounting issues.

I don’t know if I’ll ever compete in the Tarantula 100. I’m still able to trail ride all day long but can only make about 2 miles at race pace. Staying up to speed for 100 miles would leave me rubbery-armed with blood pooled in my calves. I don’t want to take that helicopter ride. There is a 60+ class but those guys looked pretty fit. Maybe they’ll let me enter the mini-cycle class. Pouring concrete would be easy in comparison.

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Yamaha RD350 No. 9: Shocks, It Was Nothing

The RD350’s rear suspension seemed kind of springy to me, like there was no damping or the shock oil had leaked out. In corners the bike would hit a bump and bounce. Nothing frightening or dangerous but in combination with the front forks needing a rebuild anything less than smooth pavement was a ragged, unsophisticated ride. The RD still wore its original shock absorbers from 1974 so I figured it was time for a replacement set.

I found many options online, prices ranged from $500 to $50. I think we all know what option I took. Look, it’s not that I don’t want a really nice set of shocks it’s just that I’ve had some bad luck with expensive shock absorbers. In a nutshell they didn’t last very long. I mean it’s not like a dirt bike where you need good suspension. I’m using the RD350 on the street, an environment where you hardly need rear suspension at all. I found a set of shocks on ebay that looked similar to the original Yamaha shocks. For $47 shipping included I was willing to take a chance. The shocks arrived in about 3 days.

Out of the box the eBay shocks looked really well made. The chrome was beautiful, the top-mounting boss was cast aluminum and the things even have a plastic sleeve between the shock body and the spring to eliminate squeaking. The original shocks did not have this feature and squeaked a lot. They sounded like an old, rusty gate swinging in the wind when you hit a bump.

Fitment was straightforward except that the original Yamaha shocks had no bushings: the rubber inside the mounts fit directly over the shock studs. I had to press out the steel bushings on the new shock, which was fairly easy using a bench vice and a couple appropriately sized sockets. Instead of black rubber like the originals the new shocks used a material that resembled urethane and may in fact be urethane. It is translucent yellow and looks cool.

With the bushing removed the new shocks fit a bit loose on the mounting studs but not loose enough to fit a bushing. I thought about cutting a strip from an aluminum beer can and wrapping it around the stud to take up the slack but instead decided to hope that the now-bushingless urethane would relax a bit over time and swell to suit its environs. I often hope for mechanical things to fix themselves and frequently they do. The washers on either side of the stud sandwich the urethane a bit when the shock bolts are tightened so maybe they will smoosch the fit tighter.

After fitting the shocks I found the first spring preload position was too soft so I stuck a pin punch inside the nifty preload adjuster hole and cranked it up to the second position. That seemed about right. I wheeled the Yamaha out into the daylight and fired up the sweet-running two-stroke twin. It’s a sound that never gets old.

The first thing I noticed while riding was no squeaking, the eBay shocks were quiet. The roads around my place are sort of rough and there was a noticeable improvement in the bounciness department. It seemed like with the rear shocks working better the blown out front forks felt worse or maybe I just paid more attention. Corners were steadier and the rear tire rubbed the fender less than it did before. Still, it wasn’t the dramatic improvement I was shooting for. That might be down to the $47 price point.

Curious about the original shocks I compressed the spring with a long bar clamp and removed the spring collar along with the spring. Now I could test the shocks for damping action. Surprisingly both shocks still had oil in them and offered firm resistance to rebound. The compression action was much less as you would expect. It’s really hard to tell but I think the two Yamaha shocks offer slightly different hydraulic action. Certainly nothing I could feel on the road. I’ll go out on a limb here and say that there was probably nothing wrong with the original shocks. They work like they work I guess.

I’ll clean up the Yamaha shocks and pack them away to rot. In the meantime I’ll be running the eBay shocks to see if they hold up for 47 years like the originals. The new rear suspension has moved fixing the forks to the front burner. The RD350 handles well with clapped out suspension, I can’t wait to get both ends sorted and sample some of that legendary road-racer for the street performance RDs are known for.

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Yamaha RD350 Part 7: Clutch Without The Cargo

The clutch cable on the RD350 was at max adjustment on the lever perch and the clutch action was a bit stiff so I removed the left side engine cover to clean things up. The cover locating dowel on the bottom was a little corroded so it took some wiggling and wobbling to get it free. Inside I was rewarded with an ignition/alternator assembly that looked nearly new. The screw heads are un-boogered and the cad plating looks like new.

I paid quite a bit for this motorcycle but it’s been worth it as the bike has seen very few ham-fisted sorties into the mechanical aspects of the thing. The sprocket area was well covered in chain grease so I needed to bag up the alternator and clean the area.

Cleaning the clutch release and countershaft sprocket area revealed that the parts were also nearly new. I dismantled the clutch actuator and cleaned up the cover.

I encourage others to leave original finishes alone but the left side cover was missing a lot of paint and had that white corrosion patina that speaks to poor maintenance. A rattle can of Rustoleum satin black matched the original engine color well so I gave it a little squirt. Note I did not polish the bare aluminum parts or touch up the points cover. That stuff wasn’t too bad.

While I had the clutch helix cover apart I decided to install a new chain. I’m not one of those, replace-it-all-or-you’ll-die, type of guys. If the sprockets look unworn I’ll slap a new chain on the old sprockets. I realize this is hearsay in the Big-Sprocket boardrooms but those guys are in the sprocket selling business. The RD sprockets look like new so don’t worry, it will be fine. One glitch was the old tire is a 3.75-18 IRC, the bike calls for a 3.50-18. The narrow swingarm of the RD can barely accommodate the extra ¼ inch. I had to adjust the chain a wee bit tighter than I like to keep the tire from rubbing the front of the gusset. That problem will be solved when I replace the tires.

The RD350 uses a 530-size chain; that’s a pretty heavy chain for a 350’s weight and power. Once these items wear out I plan on going with one of the many 520 chain conversion kits for the RD350. With small displacement engines you don’t want to waste power spinning a heavy chain.

After greasing the clutch release helix and clutch cable, along with the perch pivot the clutch is much smoother and easier to pull in. The RD350 is geared kind of high in first gear so you’ve got to give it some revs and slip the clutch to get it off the line without bogging the thing.

With the new chain and the clutch adjusted I figured I better get the bike legal because there’s no way I’m not going to ride it. I burbled down to DNA title services in Alamogordo with all my paperwork and it was a breeze to swap the title. In New Mexico we have privately run tag agencies in addition to state run agencies. The lines are much shorter at the private places and there’s an incentive to sell you a tag or they make no money. I had my choice of yellow, blue or black tags. I chose yellow because it’s old school New Mexico, like black tags are in California. The transfer, taxes and a two-year sticker cost $265 US dollars.

Arriving home from the title place there was gas leaking from the petcock. Close examination revealed that the hoses were leaking at the petcock barbs. I replaced the leaking fuel hose and added two huge fuel filters along with those springy, compression hose clamps. We will see it the leaks have stopped next ride.

I replaced the funky original Japanese swingarm and brake pedal grease fittings with normal ones that fit the grease gun everybody else on the planet uses. All of the areas were free breathing and took grease ok which makes me think they’re not clogged with hardened old muck.

I still have quite a bit of work to do on the RD350 but it’s rideable as is. I don’t trust the old tires, besides being too big the rear tire is very out of round and who knows how old the tubes are? The front end needs new oil and seals and the steering stem needs greasing. The rear shocks are like pogo sticks. I’ll get to it when I get to it, you know?

More Joe Gresh Resurrections are here!

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Endurofest 2021: Part 2

The second day after my crash at Endurofest 2021 I woke up in Beaver, Utah and my entire body felt like each bendy-joint had been shot through with formaldehyde. The two ibuprofen I had taken last night were joined by another two this morning. There’s safety in numbness, my brothers. Fawlty Towers had a nice little breakfast included with the room. I had a premade, Jimmy Dean sausage biscuit sandwich and a plastic-wrapped blueberry muffin. By the time I made it out to the bikes I was feeling fairly good but I vowed to take it easy and try to avoid crashing again.

Luckily our day’s route was an easy one. We rode 50 paved miles to an abandoned mining town named Frisco. Frisco is 20 miles south of Milford, Utah and was by all accounts a rough place to call home. The local graveyard told a sad story of infant death with the average age of the little ones only a few months. One of the oldest inhabitants died at 39. There’s not much water or shelter near Frisco but a large silver mining operation kept the townspeople busy for their short lives. Zinc, copper, lead and gold were also dug out of the rocky ground.

We poked around the ruins of the Frisco mine, there’s metal everywhere. It’s a great place to get a flat tire. Then we headed back north to Milford for some Chinese food. One of the DT250s started acting up on the return ride to Milford so we lost two DT250s as one healthy 250 followed the ailing 250 back to Beaver. They almost made it home before the sick 250 seized. I mean like a few blocks from home.

It was getting on in the afternoon so the rest of us decided to forgo Milford’s Chinese food and get a mystery burrito at the local stop-n-shop. The egg-roll sized burritos were in a glass warmer case and the tin foil wrapping covering each burrito was tagged with prices ranging from $1.99 to $2.79. There was no way to determine what you were getting until you unwrapped the thing and bit into it. I got a $1.99 and it turned out to be bean and cheese.

Leaving Milford we took the dirt road over Soldier Pass back to Beaver. It was a nice, 30-mile graded road with a few sandy spots. I welcomed the break and did not fall over the entire way. In the afternoon we took a graded dirt road high into the mountains east of Beaver. At 11,000 feet, Godzilla (my RT1B) was struggling along in first gear.

The third day of Endurofest I was feeling much better. Riding these old dirt bikes requires flexibility and the first two days I was tight, steering the bike instead of riding it. As I loosened up the bike could move around as needed and my control increased. The beating on my body lessened and I was rolling with the terrain. I started to feel it, you know? We did a loop into the western foothills along a fairly easy route with only a few rocky sections thrown in.

I left Beaver Sunday after the morning ride, leaving the remaining riders another afternoon of trail riding. The Flagstaff Endurofest was the last time I had ridden Godzilla and the rust was evident, hence my crash. It took a full three days before I felt confident on the bike. It looks like I’ll have to add a few days of dirt riding/de-rusting to my preparation list before next year’s Endurofest.

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Endurofest 2021: Part 1

After a Covid-cancelled year in 2020 Endurofest came roaring back in 2021. Unfortunately the 2-year lay-off has already eroded my meager off-road skills.

On our very first ride I managed to do a header in a rough rocky section. I was bouncing along ricocheting from rock to rock when a combination of tired arms, inattention and poor riding skills pitched Godzilla’s front wheel sideways and down I went on my right side.

It was a hard landing on rocks and for a moment I couldn’t move, like in those dreams where you can’t move except I was awake. Or maybe I wasn’t awake. It was probably only a few seconds. As my senses returned I rolled over onto my back and looked up at the brilliant blue Utah sky in wonder. How did I get here?

My foot was pinned under the motorcycle and Larry had to lift the bike off me. I stood up pretty well and managed to get Godzilla started. I went very slow the rest of the trail.

Never one to miss plugging sponsor’s freebies, my BMG jacket and ancient, Speed & Strength helmet from The Helmet House took the brunt of the crash and I am only a little sore. Godzilla suffered a bent foot peg and a damaged front food platter.

I really need to ride more dirt to stay sharp. Dirt riding, like any skill, improves with repetition so I’ll go attack some more rocks.

I think we have about eight Enduros at this year’s fest. Down a bit but understandable considering the crappy year our entire planet had in 2020. It’s just good to see your old friends and shoot the breeze without worrying about dying.

Endurofest headquarters this year is at the Beaver, Utah Quality Inn. It’s a great location if you’re into a Fawlty Towers kind of management. I showed up early and the manager was freaking out saying “I can’t put you in the room the people haven’t left yet!” There was no panic from my end. I mean, I get it. Just asking.

I got a suspicious look when I asked for a room with two beds. “There’s only one of you. Why do you want two beds?” I don’t know why but I defended my request,”My buddy Hunter might show up.” That seemed to satisfy Basil so the deal went down as planned.

This blog may be riddled with errors as I’m typing it on a cell phone and can’t actually read what it says. More riding tomorrow!

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