My Little Adventure with an Old MX Yamaha 80
So, I got my hands on an old MX Yamaha 80 a while back. It wasn’t exactly a planned thing, you know? More like I stumbled upon it, covered in dust in a corner of a mate’s shed. He was clearing stuff out, and there it was, looking pretty sad, if I’m honest. But something about those little two-strokes, right? They just have a certain charm.
The “Why Not?” Moment
I figured, “Why not?” How hard could it be to get this little beastie running again? Famous last words, as always. I had these visions of zipping around a field, reliving some kind of imaginary youth. The price was basically pocket change, so I hauled it home. My garage already looked like a scrap yard, so one more project wouldn’t hurt. Or so I told myself.
Getting Stuck In – The Grimy Part
First things first, I had to see what I was dealing with. That meant a good old tear-down. And let me tell you, every bolt fought me. Every single one. It was like they’d fused themselves to the frame out of pure spite. Lots of WD-40, knuckle-skinning, and colorful language was involved. The deeper I got, the more I realized this wasn’t going to be a weekend job. The engine seemed okay on the surface, but you never really know until you crack it open.
Here’s a quick rundown of what I initially thought needed doing, versus the reality:
- Clean the carb. Reality: Rebuild the entire thing, jets were clogged solid.
- Check the spark. Reality: New plug, new coil, still finicky. Ended up tracing wires for hours.
- Fresh fuel. Reality: Tank was rusty, had to clean and seal it. Took ages.
- Air up the tires. Reality: Tires were cracked beyond belief, tubes were shot. New rubber all round.
The Parts Hunt – Oh, The Joy
Then came the parts hunt. For an old bike like this, it’s not like you can just walk into a shop. It’s all online forums, eBay searches at 2 AM, and hoping the seller isn’t trying to offload junk. Some bits were surprisingly easy to find, others felt like searching for a unicorn. And the waiting! You order a tiny gasket, and it feels like it’s coming by slow boat from the moon.
I spent more time cleaning grease and grime off parts (and myself) than I care to admit. Degreaser became my best friend. My hands looked like I’d been wrestling a coal monster for weeks. But slowly, piece by piece, things started to look less like a pile of junk and more like a motorbike again. Painting the frame was a small victory. Made it feel like I was actually making progress.
Did It Run? Well… Eventually.
The day I tried to start it for the first time was… tense. I kicked, and kicked, and kicked. Nothing. Checked the fuel, checked the spark. More kicking. Then, a cough! Then a splutter! And then, finally, that little two-stroke braaap! Man, that sound was music. It wasn’t smooth, it smoked like a chimney, but it was alive. That first wobbly ride around my yard, even though it probably looked ridiculous, felt like a massive achievement.
It still needs a bit of fine-tuning, if I’m being totally honest. These old bikes, they’re always a bit temperamental. But that’s part of their character, isn’t it? It’s not a modern, press-a-button-and-go machine. It’s got quirks. It’s got a story. And now, a little bit of my story is tied up in it too.
Was it worth it? Yeah, I think so. It was frustrating as hell at times, and cost more than I initially planned (doesn’t it always?). But I learned a lot, and there’s a certain satisfaction in bringing something old and neglected back to life. Plus, now I have another noisy toy in the garage. What more could you ask for?