The magazine for classic Japanese motorcycles

Law-breakers... And Law-Makers

The three bikes on these pages represent milestones in the rise and fall of the 250cc two-stroke.

They all offer a kick-in-the-pants power-band that seduced several generations of teenage riders and still has a hold over their exponents today. Two of them were directly responsible for learners being restricted to 125cc machines – they were so potent that safety campaigners were terrified a generation of teenagers, who could obtain a learner licence by popping to the Post Office, would cause carnage on the road.

Until 1960 a learner rider could command any machine they could lay their hands on. However, the powers that be didn’t like that idea so they restricted learners to machines of 250cc or less. Now, that wasn’t a problem when British 250s of the day would struggle to top 70mph. So when the Japanese manufacturers started to import multi-cylinder high-performance strokers in the late 60s and early 70s the government started to take notice. In 1981 government legislation was passed that would mean learners could only ride 125cc machines. The genesis of this can be directly attributed to the Suzuki GT250X7, the first 250cc machine to crack the 100mph barrier, and the Yamaha RD250LC, which brought easy 100mph performance to learners (even if few could afford them).

But as you know, that wasn’t the end of the story. While that single legislative stroke made 250cc machines practically worthless overnight – after all who would  pass their test and then buy a 250 when they could have a 500 or a 750 – the class didn’t die.

With the 250cc learner market taken away overnight, the Japanese came back renewed only five years later with tiny, exquisite fully-faired race-replicas.

The first RGV250 brought a level of technology and GP-heritage that would have seemed impossible only a few years previously.

SUZUKI GT250X7

The GT250X7 has the honour of being the first 250cc machine to ever pass the 100mph barrier straight out of the showroom, albeit with the mirrors removed to reduce wind drag (see ‘First 100mph 250’ boxout). That’s a genuine 100mph recorded through timing lights, on the flat and without the aid of a fairing to cut through the air. Impressive. It’s the machine that every red-blooded 17-year-
old dreamed of owning; four-strokes like Honda’s CB250 just weren't exciting or
fast enough.

This honour also gave safety campaigners of the day something juicy to get their teeth into. Learners with no experience being able to tear around at speeds far in excess of those capable by the average cars of the day (with fully licensed drivers at the wheel) terrified the lobbyists and safety groups. You’ve got to admit – they had something of a point.

But what the learner law did was make the X7 cheap and available. In the mid-80s LCs were still in demand for racing and the X7 wasn't frugal enough for bearded commuters. So a whole generation of young riders who wanted cheap speed were catered for. It was a case of either buying a knackered old big capacity machine or a couple of year old X7 for about £70. They generally came with a holed piston for that price; teenage owners removed the airbox, fitted K&Ns and All-Speeds without rejetting, which led to the inevitable. So anyone with a bit of nous could whip the head and barrels off, replace the offending piston, put some bigger jets in and be away in a blue haze.

Riding an X7 today, it's easy to see what the teenagers of the late 70s loved about Suzuki's highly strung parallel twin. Picking the bike up off the stand shows it to be lightweight and manoeuvrable. Pushing the bike around the garage is surprisingly easy, especially if you've owned a large capacity four-stroke for a number of years. At just under a claimed 130kg, the X7 is a featherweight. This lack of weight is partly responsible for the Suzuki's scintillating performance. It was light enough that the bike would out accelerate its older cousin, the GT380 triple. While the GT380 may have been a few mph faster at the top end. Its weight hampered it. In measurable terms the X7 doesn't make much power (29bhp claimed), but factor in very little weight and it's easy to understand why it feels so pokey.

And it does feel pokey. Rev the X7 hard and it rewards the young-at-heart with a beautiful kick of acceleration. It’s addictive. Compared to the refinement of the RD and RGV engines, the X7’s motor has a degree of vibration that’s felt through the bars and pegs. From 6000rpm to 8000rpm the engine screams its power out with a wail from the chrome silencers.

In chassis terms the X7 feels spindly and light, adding to the excitement of the Suzuki’s ride. Negotiating a set of bends at 70mph on the X7 is one of the most exciting rides I’ve had this year. With your feet on the forward-set pegs and hunching over the bars to cheat the wind the bike scythes through corners with a slight weave that exhilarates. The forks and rear suspension units do their job but, more than that, their lack of sophistication makes the ride all the more exciting. And that's the whole story with the X7, it's the way it makes 60-70mph feel exceedingly quick; the noise, the smell, the vibration and the whippet handling come together to make something very special.

YAMAHA RD250LC

Rightly, or wrongly, Yamaha’s RD250LC is credited as being the bike that finally smashed home the nail that the X7 started to drive into the 250cc learner law coffin. When the 250LC was introduced in 1980 it was the bike that spearheaded the introduction of a new generation of machines. Compared to anything that had been before, the RD was a revelation. That’s not just me saying that, that’s the view of the guys who were testing and riding the machines at the time. The water-cooled parallel twin did a genuine 102mph without needing to remove the mirrors. It was enough to cause an outcry that was to end with the 125cc learner law.

While the X7 could be had for a paltry £860, the new for 1980 LC commanded a price premium. At £1031 the RD250LC was some £91 more expensive than the company’s own RD400 (which would top 106mph). The extra cost came from the water-cooling system which reduced head and barrel temperatures, meaning tolerances could be finer, resulting in more efficiency, and made the RD the fastest 250 that had ever been produced.

Riding the LC today is a treat. Riding this particular LC is something more. The bike is as new (see boxout) and is as close to what was experienced in 1980 as it’s possible to get. A couple of kicks brings the water-cooled twin to life. There’s something about the way an LC sounds at tickover that is wonderful. You can hear the burble alternate from each exhaust and it’s a sign of things to come.

Now, I must admit to having a big soft spot for the 250LC. When I was a teenager I bought one for £200. My saved pocket money bought me a frame and two hessian sacks of parts. I rebuilt the bike from the ground up – that was the deal my dad had made me agree to when I suggested as feisty a bike as an LC – and finished it off with a rather fetching black paint scheme with flames over the front mudguard and tank (it seemed like a good idea at the time...). I spent several years thrashing that LC and loved every minute of it. But I digress.

Where the X7 puts your knees forwards and upwards in a very sit up and beg position, the LC has a more spacious riding position with the pegs slightly more rear set to give a sporty attitude without any discomfort. As well as the obvious speed potential, it’s this capacious rider accommodation that made the LC appeal to the learner who wanted a bike that belied its capacity. And that’s exactly what the LC did. Not only did it look like a bigger bike, it went like one too.

Where the X7 is struggling through 90mph, the LC engine shows its power and will breeze through 90mph towards its 102mph maximum. Below 6000rpm the pre-YPVS motor is docile and unexciting but at 6000rpm it surges forwards in a way that would leave all contemporary 250s, some 500s and not be embarrassingly left behind by 750s of the day.

Engine aside, the tubular steel frame and cantilever swingarm give good handling today, let alone the leap forward it gave in 1980.

The single front disc (rather than a two disc setup on the 350LC) is adequate for the performance but it does need a good grip on the lever to achieve a decent rate of deceleration, although many 250s were upgraded at the time with the extra disc and caliper from the 350. While it won’t win any points at a show, it certainly is a massive improvement over the standard setup.

SUZUKI RGV250

Coming into showrooms in 1988 the RGV250 VJ21 was (almost) unlike anything that had been before. I say almost because Yamaha’s TZR250 launched two years previously brought the aluminium twin-spar beam frame to the 250 class. But it’s the RGV250 that brought a 90° V-twin engine, twin front discs with four-piston calipers and styling that alluded to the works RGV500 of GP new boy Kevin Schwantz. This was a bigger hop forwards on the 250cc two-stroke evolutionary trail.

When the RGV came out I remember seeing one in my local dealer’s showroom. Compared to anything else in the shop it was like a machine from the future. The second-hand bikes in the showroom included X7s and LCs but they were sooo last decade and paled in comparison. Needless to say, as a spotty teenager, I couldn’t afford the machine of my choice, so I rode home dreaming of the tiny GP-style silencers and the full fairing while astride the RD250LC I mentioned above.

Over the years I’ve ridden many RGV250s but this is the first VJ21 I’ve had the opportunity to get my leg over. I’ve ridden the VJ23 with its ‘Grand Prix Spirit’ and twin pipes exiting under the banana-swingarm but it didn’t fit me particularly well, and besides, I’ve always loved the look of the first RGV.

Firstly, this is tiny. Not quite as small as the X7 but it’s tiny all the same – the LC feels bigger and that isn’t exactly a monster machine. While it is small, the riding position is big enough for a six footer like me to not be completely folded in two.

Kick the engine over and the noise from the pea-shooter silencers is muted and, I must admit, doesn’t sound as engaging as the X7 or the LC. A few minutes ticking over to gently warm some heat into the engine has the temperature gauge needle starting to rise. The RGV is a machine that thrives on revs so it’s important to give it a fighting chance of spinning at 11,000rpm.

Pulling away from a standstill the bike still sounds quiet and unassuming. Wind the throttle open in second gear from low speed and there’s a surprising amount of torque from the 247cc V-twin below 5000rpm. However, the rev-counter doesn’t start counting until 3000rpm, so it seems that the engine is quite perky at minimal revs, but they aren’t really that minimal because of the high start point.

In typical two-stroke style the engine isn’t sure whether it’s coming or going between 5000-6000rpm – it’s in the pre-powerband hole. But come 6000rpm the RGV clears its throat and picks up, as the needle passes 9000rpm the bike takes off with an addictive hit of two-stroke power. It’s this 9000rpm point where the exhaust note changes completely and rather than a mild-mannered machine, the bike suddenly shows its Grand Prix Spirit in a single Jekyll and Hyde moment. It’s all but impossible not to revel in the revs between 9000rpm and 11,000rpm where peak power is made.

Not only does the engine show its development, the chassis is something else altogether. The beam frame is stiff and the adjustable suspension lets the sticky radial tyres grip the road in a way that a teenager from the mid-70s could never even dream of. It certainly more than lives up to the hype that I’d built up in my mind when I was riding my 250LC. The brakes are another area where the development process can be felt.

They offer just so much stopping capacity even compared to a twin disc RD setup.

Compared to the X7 and the LC, the RGV is almost like a modern bike but with the same attitude and character that makes the earlier bikes so attractive. A word of warning though – the character of the RGV is more likely to goad the rider into trying to emulate the GP heroes of the era. You’ve been warned.

BUYING

Many an RD250LC was mercilessly thrashed to death in the day and more than a few were converted to 350. The engine and frame numbers should ideally match; if they don’t it’s not the end of the world but make 100% certain the numbers looks pukka and have not been altered, re-stamped or interfered with. Both numbers should start off 4L1; if they don’t there’s something wrong. This is probably the number one issue with LCs in general, and barn finds in particular. The machines were prime targets for theft when new and hooky ones are still turning up. If you want a standard machine make sure the one you buy comes with the bits you need or you’ll end up paying the earth as the parts are obviously synonymous with the bigger 350.

Things like clock brackets are often damaged and many have had their rear mudguards cut down. The latter have now been remanufactured but are not cheap. The petrol tanks on all LCs are notoriously thin and the pinch welded seams are very poorly sealed so check for leaks, blisters in the paint and/or obvious signs of bodged repairs. Second-hand units are as rare as the proverbial and even a well used example will change hands for a good three figure sum. The 250 lives to a degree in the shadow of the bigger bike but not for much longer. Dial in £500 for a basket case, £1500-2000 for a clean runner and £3500 for a mint original or pristine restoration; prices for the first UK liquid-cooled learner are on the rise.

If the LC was capable of taking some punishment in the hands of learners courtesy of its water-cooling and open minded design the preceding Suzuki X7 was always a little more fragile; in essence it’s a rework of the outgoing GT250 and not a total rethink. The bike is the pinnacle of air-cooled quarter litre strokers and as such was thrapped to death mercilessly. It knocked everything else into a cocked hat and was the focus of many home tuners with, lets face it, more enthusiasm than skill. Unless really cheap, basket cases are best avoided and a box of partially seized or holed pistons implies you’re buying into someone else’s problems.

Good X7s do turn up but not as often as rough examples or incomplete projects. Just like the Yamaha it pays to ensure all the important bits are present and correct. Air boxes, inlet rubbers and stock silencers are all prime candidates to have been lost since the bike was new. Poor handling is normally attributable to worn swingarm bearings, head races or poor aftermarket shocks.

Avoid examples that plainly vibrate when ridden as this indicates bottom end issues. Genuine seat and trims are always hard to find and clocks are always a prime target for a get off. Poor performance may be due to clogged silencers but it may also be down to poor basic set up. If the bike looks standard, runs without undue noise and looks well maintained it may just need a good honest fettle. Prices have started to rise in recent years so bargains are not as common as they once were. £500 will probably buy you a year’s worth of garage work, a good clean usable machine will come in around £1250-£1750 and somewhere over the £2000 would be restored or very clean original territory.

The RGV250 is a finely honed example of late 20th century piston induction motorcycle technology. It’s also pretty close to the epitome of the genre before environmentalists started making political capital and careers out of banning an engine type that represents a gnat’s whatsit in terms of global pollution. The power to weight ratio along with that alloy frame and super crisp motor all combine to deliver thrills out of all proportion to their worth or value.

The power valves can prove to be something of an Achilles heel from a long term reliability perspective. They need to be regularly cleaned and serviced if they are not to seize and/or break. There are several options for replacement aftermarket valves that don’t have issues. In certain circles the motor has an undeserved reputation for being fragile which has been unfairly acquired. It looks to be 'guilty by association' in so far as the Aprillia RS250 is based around the later RGV’s motor.

One area often ignored is a potential purchase’s history; the RGV250 is a scratcher’s delight and signs of abuse should be carefully looked for. Ex-track day bikes or machines that have been racing ought to be fairly obvious; aftermarket fairings and scuffed footrests etc should stick out like a sore thumb. Whether this is an issue really depends on the prospective owner's intended use but an alloy frame that’s been down the track a few times may well not be in the first flushes of youth. You can reasonably expect the motor to sound a wee bit loose on tickover (more so on a cold motor) but everything should be nice and crisp when the motor is warm, under load and on the power. Sellers may be (with good reason) reluctant to allow a test ride but it’s pretty much obligatory to establish the motor’s credentials. Basket cases seem to come in around £500, a good used but honest example will probably run to £2000 with a very tidy original example approaching £2500. Expect a mint example to top out around £3000-3500 – if you can find one.

Carnage

With hindsight the 125cc learner law prevented carnage. Thanks to the X7 and LC learners would be able to gain their basic bike-craft on a 60-70mph 125cc machine before going out and buying a cheap 250cc machine that would do a genuine 100mph. That had to be a good thing. It also meant that the Japanese factories were freed from the cost cutting that inevitably comes with producing a learner machine and were then able to offer two-stroke 250s with performance verging on that of a Grand Prix machine from only a few years before. And that had to be a good thing.

THANKS

Keith Knowles for the loan of his immaculate RD250LC, Gary Haythorn for his GT250X7 and Barry Jones for his beautiful Pepsi RGV250.

Words: Ben Wilkins Photos: Joe Dick

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