My Time with the Honda PS250
So, the Honda PS250. What a machine, right? Looks like something out of a cartoon, or maybe what a delivery guy in a sci-fi movie would ride. That’s what got me interested in the first place, to be honest. It wasn’t about speed, or curves, or anything like that. It was just… different.
Getting my hands on one wasn’t super easy. They weren’t exactly flying off the shelves, you know? I spotted mine listed online, looking a bit sad, tucked away in some guy’s garage. He said he bought it on a whim, rode it twice, and then it just sat there. Classic story. So, I went over, kicked the tires, metaphorically speaking, and made an offer. He probably just wanted the space back.
First things first: getting it running right.
The battery was dead, obviously. That was an easy fix. Then came the carburetor. Oh, that carburetor. It had been sitting with old fuel for who knows how long. So, the first part of my “practice” was taking that thing apart. I’m no master mechanic, mind you. I had YouTube open on my phone, tools spread out on an old towel on the garage floor. Dropped a tiny spring at one point, spent a good half hour on my hands and knees looking for it. My back was killing me for days after, hunched over that thing.
- Cleaned every jet, every passage.
- Replaced a few crusty o-rings.
- Put it all back together, fingers crossed.
And wouldn’t you know it, after a bit of coaxing, she sputtered to life. That was a good feeling, that first proper rumble. It wasn’t a roar, more like a contented sigh.
Then came the actual riding.
This is where the PS250 really showed its colors. It’s not a speed demon. If you want to race, look elsewhere. But for just cruising around town? Man, it’s comfortable. That seat, you can slide it back, stretch out your legs. It’s like a La-Z-Boy on wheels. I started using it for everything. Grocery runs? Perfect. Just a trip to the hardware store? Load it up. That flat floor and those grab rails are surprisingly useful.
I remember this one time, I had to pick up a weirdly shaped package, too big for my car’s trunk without folding seats, which was a hassle. I looked at the PS250. Strapped that thing down with a couple of bungee cords. People were looking at me, sure, but it worked. That’s the thing about the PS250, it’s utilitarian in a way most scooters aren’t trying to be.
The “Adventure” phase.
I got a bit bold. Thought, “Hey, this thing is comfy, let’s see what it can do.” Planned a weekend trip, nothing too crazy, just a couple hundred miles to a little town by a lake. My wife thought I was nuts. “You’re taking that?” she said. But I packed a small bag, strapped it to the back, and off I went.
That trip taught me a lot. Like how the wind really catches you when you’re sitting bolt upright. And how hills, well, hills are a challenge. You’re not overtaking anyone on an incline, let me tell you. I’d be chugging along, watching the speedo slowly drop. But you know what? It was fine. I wasn’t in a hurry. It made me slow down, look around. Saw a bunch of roadside stuff I would’ve missed in a car or on a faster bike.
One evening, I pulled into this tiny motel, the kind with the neon sign half-busted. The owner, an old fella, came out. He just stared at the PS250 for a good minute. Then he says, “Ain’t seen one of these in a coon’s age. Looks like a damn Tonka truck.” We ended up talking bikes for an hour. He used to ride an old Indian. That’s the kind of interaction this bike seems to invite. It’s a conversation starter, not because it’s flashy, but because it’s odd.
So yeah, my time with the PS250. It wasn’t about high performance or cutting-edge tech. It was about practical use, a bit of tinkering, and just enjoying a different kind of ride. It’s still in my garage. Still gets used for those odd jobs and lazy afternoon cruises. It’s just a good, honest workhorse, dressed in a slightly goofy outfit. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.
