Project Restoration: 1982 Yamaha SR 250 – Part 2

Some of the best advice of your lifetime can be lost by a quick tongue or a set mind. It tends to be subtle, so you need to have your eyes and ears open along with your tongue tied back. What does this have to do with a motorcycle? More than you would think, as simple principles in life can go a long way to reaching your car collecting goals.

A few weeks back I wrote an anecdote on a purchase of an ’83 Yamaha SR 250. It was a simple bike purchased simply because of a missed opportunity on the one that got away. A knee jerk reaction to this lost deal that was all but sewn up. What transpired was a cosmetic restoration with a fresh take on a now classic.

Shortly after Part 1 the bike was ‘finished’ in the sense that it was safe to ride, mechanically sound and had a much more streamlined look considering the shape it was in when we bought it. Taylor Wrighton and myself had a few classic California Sunday sundown rides along the Central Coastline before we started discussing the future of the bike. At this point we were 50/50 partners in cost; parts and labor. Both of us enjoyed the bike and wanted to keep it in our fleet, but wouldn’t be crushed if it went to a new home and freed up cash for the next build. This is where that simple advise comes into play.

Although I was torn and seriously considered buying Taylor out of the bike and taking it back to my garage, I remembered a conversation I had with an ex-coworker and dear friend. He said, in order to get to what you really want in this industry, business and in some cases life, you cannot get attached. Buy it, fix it, sell it- then do it twice. That’s how you end up with your dream car or close to it.

It was then we both decided it was time to list it and move on to an even bigger project. But not before it got its close up and beauty shots on a crisp winter day in Monterey. We found some sites organically one afternoon on our way to Tioga Road in Sand City in the waning hours of daylight.

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The bike went to a new home this week, and we couldn’t be happier for our little victory. The new owner couldn’t be happier with the final product, and he was like minded enough to understand our vision. It was s successful puzzle piece in the big picture after countless conversations, late nights and bloodied knuckles. We did what we had set out to do and etched the first notch on our belts, setting the stage for much bigger things to come.

That same friend with the timely advice emailed me not a day after his words helped shape my decision. It was a quote from Henry David Thoreau- “Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still.” These words still hold weight today, with me especially.

Project Restoration: 1982 Yamaha SR 250 – Part 1

“So boys, tell me- have you ever witnessed UFOs over the Monterey Bay? No?! Well the trick is having night vision goggles…”

A conversation like this should be of little surprise if you have ever purchased anything off a Craigslist ad. It only goes one of two ways- quick and easy or strange and awkward. This day, we were rewarded with the latter. Let’s back track a little from the UFO guy as I remind you of a post I wrote a month ago about my adventure in the Hollister Hills where I decided I would be looking for a personal road going bike. There was an itch I needed to keep scratching and after much research and soul searching, I had found the type of bike to make its way into my garage. A 2007 Triumph Scrambler was the object of my desire with its 1960s period paint scheme. The perfect transition from dirt to street and novice to Steve McQueen.

Well, sort of. There was the great bike within my budget located in Los Gatos, California, a small Northern CA town ranked 33rd wealthiest city in the United states. Contact was made, a time was set and in my mind this was the only bike for me. Not so fast say the Craigslist gods. On my way up, I got a message saying that the bike had sold the night before. Then comes the 7 stages of buyers grief- shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger and bargaining, reflection, the upward turn, working through, before finally acceptance and hope. We all experience some of these emotions when a deal doesn’t go down right, don’t we?

That’s when my co-pilot Taylor and myself met Don. After three storage units and a dozen basket case bikes later, we thought we had reached another dead end. He then mentions casually about ‘a few other bikes’ in another space that we might be interested in. We were willing to take the ride out to a location that has always been perceived  to be a deserted maintenance shed in Monterey.

After the decoding of a few locks, we finally got a glimpse of promise in our journey for my bike. But again, rows and rows of major projects which included total rewiring, engine and transmission rebuilds, missing tanks, missing wheels and overall rusty mopeds and bikes stacked side by side. Then, as if we were tied to the same rope, Taylor and I saw a bike tucked into the dark.

We pulled it into the light and give her a good look. We had some potential.

Our likely project came in the form of a form of a 1982 Yamaha SR 250, but at the time, we had little clue to its year and story. Neither did the owner. With so many in his collection, Don had a hard time remembering anything about any of them, except whether or not he had a clean title or not.

“Yep, that one is clean. And I never did any wiring on this bike…did I mention I was color-blind?!”

That might have something to do with the night vision goggles was my first thought. No matter, we had agreed that it had promise and would be a fun project to get back on the road. Was it the turn key Triumph I had been looking for that I could take the course and get right on the road? No. But the investment cost was considerably less and our vision for its styling made us excited to load it up with little reservations.

To our surprise, Taylor and I quickly got the bike to turn over and crank after a quick cleaning of the carbs, fresh fuel and a charged battery. She sounded period corrected with its side pipe and it didn’t run too hot before we knew we could work on the cosmetics more than the mechanical. Our bike is still in progress, so check in for part two of this 1980’s moto project!

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Going ‘Gonzo’ in the Hollister Hills

Comfort zones are overrated. Looking back, it’s always the impromptu trips that foster learning and growth, feelings and experiences. That’s exactly how I found myself with a group of veteran back road trackers kicking up dust in the hills of Hollister, California- a 4,100 acre State motorcycle and ATV Park mecca that hosts thousands of trail riders on its 152 miles of track.

It started as a casual idea, working its way to a shotgun run reality. “Camping tonight in Hollister. Riding all day tomorrow. Bringing the extra bike for you. Don’t pass it up man, let’s ride,” was the text I got from fellow motoring enthusiast Taylor Wrighton. After a moment of debate, I was all in for an expedition unfamiliar to me in all my years of driving, track days and riding quads with my brother-in-law on the coastline of central California. I’ve had limited exposure over the years making this the perfect time and place.

When we reached the peak of Cienega Road, which outlines many ranches and orchards in the rich valleys of San Juan, the fall sunset was just burning away. Our campsite was already prepped in the Lower Ranch area with his father Bobbie and sister Paige beating us out there and already enjoying a couple of rides in the dusk. Sharing fire space were longtime friends and fellow riders Eric, and his two kids Casey and Darcy. With the grill fired up, drinks being mixed, stories stretched and strung along, we were finally out of cell service under the stars that filled the crisp air.

The sun always shines the brightest when you are camping, and this was no different. Our crew was the first camp up making breakfast and prepping the bikes. We might have even waken up another camp who partied a little hard the night before. Bobbie and Eric were the lead dogs riding out first with Paige and Darcy who are 8 and 10 respectfully. Taylor and myself took a quick lap around the grounds to get our bearings and to bring me up to speed on my Yamaha 125 TTR. Taylor has been fond of his Yamaha Z 400F for years and tries to milk every ounce out of it.

Now was the time to throw on the goggles, whiten my knuckles and push myself on the Lodge Lake Trail- a more challenging route plagued with tricky shadows that would hide berms and washouts along the long stretches and short embankments. First time through Taylor showed the way with his smart lines and proper shifting. I mostly stayed in low third gear and pacing myself to all the unfamiliarity. You can image I quickly got the bug and desire to push myself and my partner. We hit the dusty one way road back past our camp and onto the TTX track – a freshly maintained oval track with left turns made to test your boundaries. No doubt it has hosted countess battles between amateur and professional riders.

After a quick top off of the tanks, and a food run at camp, we were all motivated to ride again. By this time campers and caravans of day trippers were out and about, including a eager group of elementary kids throwing dirt around the mini bike track. Watching the groms flood the throttle from lap to lap was rewarding for the parents watching from the fence line and myself, who was lucky enough to capture some great moments. Ethan, age 12, was the most progressive of the group and would stop to take requests from the spectators on which line to take next. “Want me to jump that in 3rd gear? I show you I can do it!”

Casey, Taylor and myself hooked back up and shot straight for the longest and most testing ride of the day on the Adobe Trail. Not only did it demand a pressing pace and unwavering mental focus, it also required me to asses my level of courage and desire to ride what I came to concour. Luckily my companions were all in for my experience and saw the bones of a new group member. My thanks were shown by turning my lens on the guys to capture their aggressive driving spirits in motion. Up, up, up we traveled, to the top of the Twin Hills Trail, which rewarded us with tremendous views.

We spent the remaining hours in the hills of Hollister swapping bikes and cracking jokes- nobody wanting the day to end. I realized that somewhere between the fear of flipping over and the feeling of 4th gear was a sense of freedom and connection I always knew was there. To finally get to act on a gut feelings and to be rewarded as such put permanent kindling on the fire. Look for me to pick up a vintage road going bike in the near future.