I'm honestly not entirely sure which forum to post this in, as it bridges several, but I assume its "Project" aspect outweighs most others, and I'd likely not post here were it not for some help I received from you guys. This is the story of my 1980 GS250t, and all the agony of defeat and thrills of victory that have come along with my first resto, and as its not quite done, will surely continue to come. If nothing else, it should be an entertaining tale. I'll try to keep it reasonably short and abridged, as I have a short attention span.
I suppose a sort of introduction of myself is in order; I'm a 20 year old CJ student and NC State Park employee who has always had a passion for all things on two wheels, and taking things apart, with or without successfully returning them to working order. Although I had ridden dirt for years, I had never really had the motivation, or finances to put a bike on the road, or so I thought. A friend and fellow broke ass young gun finally gave me the idea of a vintage-y resto project when he purchased a 1972 CB175 (you may know him as catzor, he also referred me to you guys) to do a frame up rebuild on. So to Craigslist I went. After a few fruitless weeks of searching, I received a call simply saying, "Yo, there's an '80 Suzuki GS 250 on CL, go." The next day I was scheduled for eye surgery, and within a half hour after regaining consciousness, I was on the phone with the now previous owner telling him I'd be on my way in the morning.
Upon mine and Zach's (my fellow broke ass young gun moto mechanic) supposed arrival (this portion does not pertain to the project, but makes the story of the bike even more interesting) we find some old dude, already drunk at 10:00am, not sure of where we're going, or even where we really are, but that there's an ABC store down the road, and he really needed some booze. So, not knowing where in the hell we are, we agree to take this clearly upstanding member of society who would certainly not gag and anally rape us to the liquor store. He then proceeded to tell us his life story (a reasonably short one considering his age) which consisted of booze and women, and how he really didn't know where the bike in question was located. Long story short, alkie got his booze, and only our mental fortitude was raped.
After safely returning our friendly drunkard home, I decided to do what any reasonable person should have done in the first place, and called the owner. Turns out he lived right across the street.
Now the moment has arrived, I'm preparing to see the motorcycle that may become my first purchase, and expecting all kinds of mechanical turds out of it for the modest asking price of $600. Low and behold, this machine was absolutely beautiful. All stock, circa 1980. Very little pitting in any of the chrome, only a little fast action sanding from a previous n00b rider, no dents, dings, and only a couple of tiny exhaust leaks. However, the front brake was completely frozen, the 1980 battery was as dead as Ronald Regan (too soon?) and she simply wouldn't turn over. (not that I was surprised considering the last inspection sticker was dated 1983) So he was talked down to $575, and after some interesting attempts to load it and its stuck front brake into the truck, away we went.
The first night of owning my shiny new/old toy, I was like a kid at Christmas, learning how to take parts off, but them back on, cleaning the carbs, etc. After an exhaustive carb cleaning....and putting #$%* back in wrong once, I was hoping that it would see its first start up. Wrong. So the carbs come back off, jets get cleaned again, go back on. Starter spins freely. Carbs come off, jets get cleaned, etc. you get the idea. After a few days of blindly cleaning the carbs, and actually getting it to idle a time or two, I finally take a good look inside the tank. Oops...n00b should have realized metal rusts. So a couple of gallons of vinegar, a few thousand bb's and now caveman like biceps later, the tank was clean. (or so I thought, more on this later) Now, finally....she's going to see fire, and hopefully road. Wrong again Sir n00bulas. Well, in all actuality, she did see fire, idle, and a little road, but at very poor speeds, and with almost no power. Needless to say, my mind, feeble from inhaling too much gas and carb cleaner, was baffled. So the GS sat motionless and neglected for almost a month, as bafflement lead to frustration. I'd flirt with working on it, but find reasons not to. I'd be tempted with trying something new, only to talk myself out of it. Really, it was like that girlfriend that we've all wanted to get rid of, but couldn't bring ourselves to because we'd invested too much money in the relationship. Now, I must point out the fact that the stock air filter was long gone, and there was a small amount of filter material, mostly just a dust screen, in its place. And one day it simply occurs, fuel+air+spark=ignition, fuel is flowing, spark is good, got to be with air. So to the forums I went. The guys at SOHC4 were very helpful, and I feel I must send a shout out to them. It quickly became clear that I had absolutely no restriction whatsoever of airflow. So, in order to make sure this was my problem, I crammed the box tight with filter material and foam, resulting in an immediate response. The throttle was snappy, and sharp, the revs were smooth and quick, I could finally feel some power beneath my ball sack. I was finally able to feel comfortable on her. First take off, literally felt like a dirtbike. So I restricted it a little too much...easy take some foam out. Closer. A little more. Great....Great....Nothing. Now I'm WTFing. Turned out there was still sediment in the tank. Can n00by do anything right??? So instead of re-cleaning the tank, I took the lazy way out, installed an inline fuel filter (which will soon be removed), and prayed to the motorcycle gods. At this point, I'm having to jump it off, as I've successfully killed the battery, so I hook everything up, hit the starter, and BLAM, she starts purring like the sweet little 250 baby she is. Once again, revs smoothly, breaths just right, and sounds oh so sweet. She sees her first 3/4 ton, as the kids these days call it, in at least 27 years, if not her life, with a transmission that's crisp as glass, did I mention that it has fewer than 3000, yes, three thousand, factory miles? She runs smoothly, sweetly, and like she's fresh from Japan, and I feel like the greatest bad ass ever for bringing her back to such beauty. It still needs some work, new front and rear rubber, float bowl gaskets, and a few various and sundry odd things, but she has went from barley being able to be pushed, to a road worthy bike in 6 short months, at the hands of a 20 year old moron with a set of wrenches, a screwdriver, and a lot of tobacco.
I've learned more from this machine than I'll likely ever learn from another. I was sent solo though this, probably because my mother figured I'd never succeed, and my father wanted to have sex with her again, so it'd be best if he kept his involvement to a minimum (although I did accuse him of sabotage a few times) I've also caught the bug from this machine, and I know that this is only my first project, with many years of motorcycles to come. I take more pride in this bike than anything else I've done, because from nearly nothing, both on the part of the bike and my knowledge, I've recreated something beautiful, smooth, and clean, even despite ridicule from my doubting woman. She should know to never doubt a man with a ratchet wrench. The GS will be inspected soon, tagged, and from here our adventures will begin, but I'll never forget the sad, sputtering little lady she was who had a knack for making me scream "mother #$%*er."
Happy riding.
