UNTAPPED POTENTIAL

The advert could have read ‘Crash on Sunday, ride on Monday’ for Yamaha’s DT250. But with 175cc and 360cc siblings, was it just the one in the middle?

Before taking this particular DT250 to the road it was impossible not to check out its immaculate condition. It was a low mileage stunner, less than 4000 on the clock, and not a speck of dirt or corrosion blighting the plot. The 1973 DT250 was also known as the DT3, in that period when Yamaha were still using arcane letter and number codes rather than names that were an indication of the capacity. It looked as if it had just come out of a showroom circa September 1973.

The level and the quality of equipment are incredible for the early Seventies. There’s good switchgear, clear and top-notch instruments, decent brakes, and solid, well-built bodywork.

On the road the somewhat soggy riding conditions were causing me a little concern. The new Michelin tyres looked like they’d have a bit more grip than the old school knobbly tyres originally fitted, but they did look as if they needed scrubbing in a bit or they were going to be as grippy as racing slicks. Still, I reasoned, let’s give this bike a go and see what happens.

As I initially pootled gently along, I thought that for a two-stroke 250cc single the Yamaha seemed almost docile, easy to control, and just right for the novice, all of which came as a surprise. I was expecting some honest-to-goodness rortiness, such as I’d experienced on my old TS250 Suzuki a few decades back, but this felt almost slow. That fancy ‘racebred’ reed valve didn’t seem to be doing anything.

And then the rev counter hit 5000rpm in third. The back wheel dug in, the front wheel lifted slightly as suddenly the thing hurtled forward, the sudden onrush of wind pinning my eyelids open. My hands clamped tightly to the grips as I thanked my lucky stars that I was on a straight bit of road rather than a twisty bit of nadgery. We got faster and faster. And then as suddenly as it had arrived, it ran out of steam. Until I changed up again, and the revs dropped just below 5000 and with the faintest twitch of throttle we and it did it again. Whoa, baby, calm down a bit. We’ve only just met…

It’s a peaky little beggar then. Next to no torque at low revs, and all the power coming in late on. I wondered if it must have made it a handful offroad. A little farm tracking or dirt road work was certainly achievable, but I could see it cartwheeling away from the rider if you were riding on the grass and the bike suddenly gained traction at high revs. Of course, my initial experience was down partly to riding an unfamiliar motorcycle in imperfect conditions. I’m sure that after a few days you’d get the hang of it, but surely there must have been a few new owners who, after jumping straight off their FS1Es, dumped their L-plate-equipped DT250 into hedges on the first day out. But that was the way two-stroke trail bikes were back then. Snarly little beasts that scored low in the sophistication stakes, but which would out-drag pretty much anything else in the Friday night market square sprints and go anywhere you wanted. Adventure bikes? Who needs one of those? Safety and smoothness were sacrificed for power and acceleration.

There was initially a certain amount of thruppenny-bitting on the tighter corners. It was, blessedly, light enough and low enough to paddle about from a standstill. Once a few hills and a few more bends had been negotiated, the way the DT produced its power became more understandable and the riding experience improved no end. Tackling gradients improved throttle control and with bike under my considerable load, with a little confidence I found it did go round corners, after all.

It progressed well enough at low revs, and I’ve never paid such close attention to a rev counter before, watching for that previously terrifying, but now exciting burst of power. It was comfortable too, far more so than many much more modern offerings, and with a relatively low seat and highish steering head you didn’t feel like a windsock. Even so, riding the DT is an exhilarating, rather than a relaxing experience. It’s a grin-making motorcycle you can still use every day, on- or off-road, and there’s really very little to go wrong. Look after it and it’ll go on for absolutely years.

“Whoa, baby, calm down a bit. We’ve only just met…”

FROM THE DESERT TO THE WORLD

The poky Japanese trail bike can be an absolute joy, no matter what the name is on the tank. Yamaha got there first by a few months, and their 250cc trail bikes were built at first for desert racing in the US, wiping the floor with heavier British twins developed from road bikes and challenging Spanish and Swedish rivals for winners’ laurels.

They weren’t quite as sturdy as Husqvarnas and Bultacos, but they were a lot cheaper and, like the British machines that came before them, they could be ridden to the races, used to compete, and then ridden home again.

The first Yamaha 250 traily of this kind arrived in 1968, as the DT1. Originally the model was based on a Montesa acquired by Yamaha importers in California. They pressured Yamaha to come up with a similar design, based around the engine used in their motocrosser. The Californians created a proof-ofconcept prototype in late 1966 and sent it to Japan where Yamaha created two pre-production models and sent them back for evaluation in California which gave them the thumbs up.

Two months later the first production DT1s arrived and they were big sellers with more than 70,000 sold. Until then, serious off-roading hadn’t been something that gripped the imagination of Japanese riders, but the new Yamahas quickly got noticed, so much so that in September 1970 Yamaha set up a network of Yamaha Trail Land sites throughout Japan where people could experience off-road riding on the DT range.

These proved immensely popular among younger riders in Japan and boosted sales. Established as a serious part of the Yamaha range, the first DT1 was followed, logically, by the DT2, which in turn was replaced by the DT3/DT250.

DT360 – A SNORTING BEAST THAT NEEDED TO BE TAMED

In the UK, Yamaha’s DT250 didn’t capture the imagination of the motorcycle press who were largely fixated not just on road bikes, but big road bikes. They grew to love its smaller sibling, the DT175 for its ability off-road and were in awe of the

DT360 as a snorting beast of a bike that needed to be tamed. But the 250 was felt by the pundits to be neither as light and malleable as the 175, nor as imposing as the 360, and the common opinion was that it was neither one thing nor the other.

Out in the real world however, it was both things at the same time. This was particularly important when your motorcycle wasn’t just a plaything but was needed as day-to-day transport. The 250 did both jobs with aplomb. You could hack it to work or school in the week, crash it off-road at weekends and bend it back into shape on Sunday afternoon for its workaday,

weekday role. You could even tour on it if you so desired and could live with hours in the thinnish saddle.

By the time the DT250 arrived in 1973 the more road-orientated 19in front wheel fitted to the DT1/2 was replaced by a mud-friendly 21in hoop. It had many bits that were extra modern, like dual springs on the rear shocks to make the ride better off-road. How much power did the DT make? Officially it was claimed to produce anything from 21 to 24bhp, which isn’t bad for a mass-produced two-stroke when you consider that the 1970 AJS Stormer 250 motocrosser, a true competition machine, managed 27bhp. A factory race tuning kit available in the US took the Yamaha out to 30bhp. By now Yamaha’s motocrossers, using race versions of the various engines, were all-conquering.

The engine on the DT250 was a 246cc air-cooled two-stroke single with a revolutionary race-bred reed valve and a 26mm Mikuni carburettor. The barrel had ports all over it and holes in the piston skirt, all of which produced a better throttle response. It also had two spark plugs, one pointing backwards at 45 degrees to the piston crown as a spare in case the main side mounted plug fouled, hence the cutaway in the left-hand side of the cylinder head. Just swap the plug lead round and away you went again.

Like most trail bikes the DT wasn’t about top speed and would run out of steam once at 75mph in fifth. It would, however, accelerate like nobody’s business. Yamaha’s Autolube system, the first of its kind, had been launched in 1961 and removed the need for petroil premix, so owners didn’t have to ride around with a bottle of Castrol 2T bungied to the back of the seat. Although the DT250 tipped the scales at nearly 300lb, the low centre of gravity helped cope with the extra poundage.

It was a slender beast at the front, spreading out a little to the rear, and like most Japanese trail bikes it had a painted steel exhaust curving sharply upwards. This ran along the inside of the rider’s right leg and was prone to catching road crud and to rusting out very quickly indeed, the sharp bend being most at risk. These days finding a replacement will be tricky.

Other sought-after spares are the short chainguard which shields the rider’s legs but doesn’t protect the rear sprocket and the flimsy-looking lower chain guide, which looks like an ideal candidate for snagging on a loose branch or getting packed with mud. Neither of which would have been big concerns for desert racers, of course. It had steel mudguards, though later models moved to plastic. Both types are now hard to find in decent condition and in the case of the plastic items, the right colour.

The DT had pillion footrests, but as the seat is particularly short the rider needed to know their pillion very well indeed. If they didn’t before the ride, they certainly would afterwards. As the rests are bolted straight to the swing arm, the pillion would also need very flexible knees. They are simple to work on and you can get at everything.

Owner Allan Clarke says he could service his DT250A, including decoking the top end, in an hour. He added: “I found my DT250a to be most useful, had no problems and was great on- and off-road. I replaced original long stalk indicators with short rubber, front shock boots, and fitted a plastic engine bash plate. One of the best bikes Yamaha made.”

Controls were basic, but well made. A left-hand switch set contained dip switch, horn and indicators, with just a throttle on the right. The combined ignition and light switch was centrally mounted between the clocks instead of being tucked away somewhere inaccessible where it was just asking to get damaged or, worse, let the key fall out when things got a bit worn.

There were only two idiot lights, one for the ignition and one for the indicators. The lack of a neutral light was a bit of a problem and it would have been even more of an issue if the gearbox wasn’t so slick. The front indicators were mounted on the bars on these early machines, flexible rubber mounts being an innovation yet to come. The choke is by a lever on the top of the Mikuni carb, which is a little fiddly, but to be fair you wouldn’t need to use it much. Later models had bar-mounted choke cables.

Brakes were pretty substantial for a trail bike which benefited from having very similar equipment to the 360. The whole DT range was developed over the next decade, the 250 getting a radially finned head in 1975 and a complete cosmetic and frame re-design for 1978, with slab-sided bodywork and a monoshock as well as using more practical offroad equipment, but considerably less power.

Finding a decent early period DT 250 isn’t as hard as you might think. They made loads of them and they are regularly crossing the Atlantic in assorted conditions from rust heaps to concours.

“I found my DT250a to be most useful, had no problems and was great on- and off-road. I replaced original long stalk indicators with short rubber, front shock boots; fitted a plastic engine bash plate. One of the best bikes Yamaha made.”