MZ MISCELLANY
Are MZS really pants? Scoop’s a convert and he’s working hard to convince us with these two modest beauties.
Let’s start with a few period jokes shall we? A man goes into a bike shop and asks, “What have you got in stock for an MZ 250?” The answer comes back: “A gallon of petrol and a box of matches.” What’s worse than finding an MZ in your garage? Finding two MZS in there. And finally – how do you double the value of an MZ? Fill it up with premix.
Yes, East European motorcycles of the period came with a reputation for being worse than not owning a bike at all, but in among the dross there was always MZ. Laugh if you will, but the fact remains that the Zschopau brand had and still retains a huge following around the world: even in
the ultra-conservative, Commie-hating USA! Almost until the last of the Turkish built Kanuni MZS the single cylinder, piston-ported, stroker commanded grudging respect from anyone who could see past the badge and the old wives’ tales. Mickey-taking aside, MZS sold in substantial numbers back in the day. When you plough through older editions of Bike magazine et al you see period road tests where even the most cynical hacks found attributes to Mz-ing that really impressed them. The machines were bought mainly by cost conscious riders who wanted daily two wheeled transport. These were the same people who would have purchased BSA Bantams, James Captains or Enfield Clippers had they been available; misanthropes have suggested the MZ customer generally got a more reliable machine. Our two test bikes in camera have made long continental trips with their owners Martin Kemp and Peter Spicer but not before they’ve received
some considered updates. Items such as solid state regulator/rectifiers, blade fuse conversions, Yamaha switchgear, LED rear light bulbs, low wattage indicator flasher unit, higher specification batteries and Mikuni carburettors all enhance the experience. Purists don’t generally feature large in the MZ riding world! The careworn 250 is a survivor, a TS250/1 aka Supa 5 which has lived a long and hard life yet remains reliable. The shiny red four-speed TS250 has been the subject of a head-to-toe refurbishment which amazingly includes all of its paintwork being done in powder-coat. Riding an MZ250 is emphatically and unquestionably unlike anything else you’ll ever encounter… but not in a bad way. If you’ve experience of earlier Suzukis then starting won’t faze you; otherwise the left-hand (foot?) kicker will have you foxed. Do you stand to the left and use your right foot or sit astride and use your left? Neither seems natural at first. When the engine fires you’re rewarded with a unique sound of ringing fins, a slow steady heartbeat and strange signature exhaust note. The longest silencer in the known world emits a sound that’s part metallic and part industrial engine. Perplexingly it’s both base baritone and tenor at the same time. In true built-to-last style it’s hung from a somewhat less than discreet tubular mount at the rear with a clamp arrangement holding the pipe to silencer under the engine. MZ seats might look like planks but they’re surprisingly comfortable. Even better there’s generally a lockable cubby hole under the pillion’s perch. Jump aboard and the deep and high tank is very apparent yet it’s not intrusive. The rubber knee pads might look like something from your uncle Bert’s old 60s nail but they work surprisingly well; both rider comfort and bike control are noticeably improved by such simple fitments. If MZS were built for one reason it’s riding without strain and this is apparent when you grasp the bars. That pivotal triangle of seat, footrests and bars is pretty much ideal. Now it’s time for the off and once again the experience, for the uninitiated, is unlike anything else. The clutch is beguilingly light in use and it’s a robust piece of kit. MZ gearboxes are several leagues better than certain Eastern Bloc transmissions but can be a little notchy now and again; yet once you know about it it’s no real effort. Grab first gear, open the throttle and let out the clutch and either of our test bikes will shoot forward; once more it’s not the sensation that you’d automatically expect. These bikes have an almost linear power delivery to them as they accelerate and the previously jigging about engine becomes a paragon of creamy smooth torque ready for the next ratio. Although it’d be wrong to imply the genre makes indecent haste, more than a few riders have been caught out by the performance that is available. And if that impresses then the handling is even more unexpected. On anything other than the OEM indestructible Pneumant tyres they handle oh-so much better than many of their peers regardless of country of origin. There’s a solidity to the handling that simply isn’t there on anything Japanese of the same period.
The metalwork may very well have been Soviet influenced but the chassis geometry is based on sound established Western world principles. We’re talking European levels of stability with a distinctly reassuring Teutonic feel about it. Make no mistake, a well ridden MZ can show many a poorly ridden Japanese machine of the same capacity the right lines into and out of almost any bend. Retardation wise it’s something of a mixed bag. The rear brakes on both bikes are standard rod operated units, strong, reliable and predictable. The restored four-speeder runs a Yamaha TLS unit which works exceptionally well in its new home. The Supa 5 runs the original SLS unit with high friction shoes which are infinitely better than the East German OEM items. These were never outstanding and it reminds why, on two of the trio of MZ250S I’ve owned, I became rather adept at heavy rear wheel braking. Up changes on either bike are simple and straightforward but the four-speeder has an annoying habit of randomly crunching as and when it feels like it. Blipping the throttle to match revs to transmission speed, preloading the pedal, using a light dab, trying a quick stab when you think the bike won’t notice… none of it makes a blind difference and the massive lever adds little help either. Welcome to the world of Mz-ing! Thankfully the Supa 5 is much more conventional and forgiving even if it too feels a little rural if you’ve just
stepped off a Japanese machine. Of course MZS are different and ultimately made down to a price using technologies and parts that would never even have been considered as options in the west or Japan. Cast aluminium features strongly on almost every model and in places you might not have expected to find it; air-boxes and battery trays being two prime candidates. Apparently in the grim days of the cold war aluminium was readily available so it got used for many applications. Plastics being derived from petrochemicals were relatively scarce behind The Wall and therefore didn’t feature high on the specification list. Another typical feature is the use of slotted cheese head screws where Japanese bikes would feature crossheads. Slotted screws were cheaper to make than crossheads so that’s what was used. Ultimately a motorcycle is primarily about its engine; the design can make or break the end product. It has always been de rigueur to tar all Eastern Bloc bikes with the same brush which was and is manifestly unfair. Received wisdom suggests that new CZS can be good or bad, Polish analogues generally less than satisfactory and Russian strokers generally only a few degrees above being motorised sea anchors. Thankfully MZS are infinitely better and even if they all came under the same scrutiny from whatever Polit-bureau, People’s Commissariat for Transport or Revolutionary Workers Cooperative for Quality etc. these bikes are essentially German in mind-set. Fortunately there were no set state standards for levels of poor engineering and dubious reliability so the engineers, designers and workforce did the very best they could with the resources given to them. The way an MZ 250 makes its power is a revelation if your benchmark is Japanese strokers in general and twins in particular. There’s an almost relentless delivery that’s more akin to an electric motor than a humble piston ported stinkwheels. The four-speeder takes a little more working than its newer cousin with its five ratios but both motors unquestionably punch well above their weight and it’s easy to see why their owners take them on long distance tours. I’ll state these engines are almost up there for tractability with the likes of Yamaha’s reed-valved DT250. For a company the wrong side of the wire, constantly up against rules and regulations on a monumental scale, at risk of denouncement to the hated Stasi and continually hampered by shortages of raw materials and/or inferior parts foisted on them the bikes they made were little short of awesome. If Zschopau had been on the other side of The Iron Curtain and once again operating as the former mighty DKW organisation it’s possible, just possible that the Japanese factories might have had a much harder time. As it stands the firm’s 250s were the crème de la crème of Eastern European two wheelers which is no mean achievement in anyone’s book! Right comrade?