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Though the UK had the major benefit of the 125 Wolf for a while, it eventually priced itself out of the market. All along the Jap's had the joy of a similar machine, only displacing 195cc and developing a very useful 35 horses at 9000 revs! As mass was less than 250lbs, this made for an exceptional power to weight ratio, better than all those high class Wop 125 replicas and priced to sell on the grey import circuit at £1000 to £1500, depending on age and condition. I paid £1450 for a 1994 model with a mere 7000 miles up, in excellent cosmetic condition.
Though the Wolf is naked it certainly ain't retro. Think of an RGV without its fairing and you get an idea of where we're at. For diehard replica fanatic's there also a Jap market RG200 with an identical engine but 25lbs extra mass, though maybe its aerodynamics will help it belt along a bit faster than the 105mph I managed to put on the Wolf's clock.
Being such a light bike, though one with a thoroughly modern mono-track chassis, it was knocked about a bit at high speeds by bumpy roads and howling gales, but never to an extent that could be considered life threatening. Just how good was the basic stability was brought home to me when I was having a dice with some old codger on a Norton 650SS.
No, not because I could shoot inside the fabled Featherbed chassis (although I could) but because the vibratory bastard bike deposited its silencer in my path at about 90mph! Hitting a hefty bit of British metal at such a high velocity could've been the end of me, but the Wolf flapped its bars for a few yards and then settled right back down again.
The only real handling limits were the original spec Japlop tyres which age and wear had turned a bit plastic. Fine of a decent bit of road surface, but dampness or greasiness had the front trying to fly away - again, the sheer lightness of the bike meant I could muscle it back on to line with little effort. The avoidance of a near death experience merely down to my well honed survival instincts from over twenty years of biking. However, if you've just passed your test it would be worth fitting some decent rubber, as it will work out a hell of a lot cheaper than trying to repair a bike that is at best very rare in the UK - though many of the 125 Wolf's bits will fit.
As a modern piece of stroker kit, the single cylinder engine (not to be confused with the entirely different twin cylinder 250 Wolf!) was rather amazing. Below eight grand it was a bit on the bland side but entirely useable, able to lope along in perfect harmony without any hint of plug oiling or the stutters or even vibration. The smoothness of the six speed gearbox and lack of driveline harshness would leave the average Honda owner amazed.
In this mode the bike was quite practical, able to commute through town ahead of the cages and manage 65 to 70mpg! Although the riding position was well balanced (but a bit cramped if you're on the tall side), the bloody seat was something out of the inquisition because wear had compressed the already minimal foam so that the edges of the ugly plastic cowl lacerated my legs!
Inelegantly, I made a temporary repair with a few layers of high density foam and black tape, which proved more comfortable than expected and wasn't removed until I came to sell the bike. The seat discomfort on a stocker, though, the only excuse needed to enjoy the high rev kicks when the power suddenly switched in.
It was an intoxicating feeling to work the fluid gearbox and throttle to make the little Wolf fly along at an indecent pace. Poor old replica owners nearly dropped a load as I burnt past them up to about 70mph; they thinking it was just the 125! It was the sheer lack of mass that allowed the bike to get away with being such a giant killer. In full throttle mode fuel consumption was around the 50mpg mark - in other words, no worse than some poorly restricted 125 stroker!
I don't know if it was age or just bad design, but I never got on with the disc brakes. There was plenty of pad material left and the discs themselves lacked any hard scoring. They just felt totally lacking in that essential element of feedback. On/off switches that combined with the plastic tyres almost had me off in the wet more times than I'd like to admit. There wasn't any wet weather lag, so maybe I should've changed the fluid - if the bike had been standing for a while it could quite easily have gone off. But I hate dealing with nasty brake fluid.
The finish was already a bit tarnished. Corroded alloy and steel, plus splotches of rust on the few bits of chrome. Where the low quality really hit home was the exhaust system which cracked in the bend just after it comes out of the cylinder. This makes enough racket for the cops to summon helicopters and the ped's to go berserk, but I made it home without being strung from the nearest lamppost. An intact exhaust is actually a bit on the quiet side below eight grand, with the odd ped walking out in front of the bike in town.
Not wanting to spend out any money on a bike which was just filling in time before I got my hands on something bigger, I pushed it around to my car dealing mate who was let loose with his welding torch. A bit messy but it stopped the excess noise and flames!
In two months I did about 3000 miles on the Wolf, with no other incidents of note. Just a bit of oil in the tank and kicking the tyres when I felt bored. By then the chain was well shagged, the rubber close to illegal and the exhaust had lost all its finish.
Seat and exhaust apart, it's a really neat little machine that goes a lot faster than most people suspect. At a push, it'll drone along the motorway at around 90mph, is brilliant in town where its power and lack of mass really rule, and can cut up much bigger bikes out in the country. Engine longevity's unknown but I've seen some with over 30,000 miles on the clock, so it can't be all that bad - and Suzuki always make good strokers, especially with the benefits of watercooling and electronic ignition.
I was even a bit sad when someone came along and insisted on giving me £1500 for her. Still, I soon got some kicks from my new machine.
Dick Lewis
Return to Contents for Suzuki Strokers
Relatively cheap insurance was the only reason I decided to buy one of these hot-rod strokers last December. I wanted something fast and furious, which at eighteen meant it had to be 250cc or under. Because I bought in the depths of winter and at the height of the depression my 1991 RGV250M cost a reasonable £1975 in a private deal. It was owned by a spotty youth (just like myself) but had only done 6000 miles and had the service documents.
First impressions were mixed. The radical riding position soon had my body wracked with pains, especially wrists and neck. The wild acceleration and howl from the two stroke twin motor did wonders for clearing up my recalcitrant bowel movements. And the suspension was so harsh just about every bump in the road went straight up my spine and arms. It wasn't an easy bike to ride either, with an abrupt clutch that required loadsa revs to take off but too much throttle abuse would send it into wheelie mode.
The original Japanese tyres were due for replacement, which did not help stop the bike sliding all over the road as we rode through a thunderstorm. The twin discs up front were massively powerful but also had enough feel to stop me locking up the wheel in the wet. The front light was a revelation after that fitted to my RXS100. I thought the machine looked really stunning with that large chunk of alloy frame setting off the curvaceous fairing and large petrol tank. I often had a crowd of onlookers gasping in admiration when I pulled up in small towns.
After Christmas and the New Year it was time to get serious. The local dealer charged £200 for a set of Metz's finest, but that included fitting them. Then it was commuting time, 25 miles back and forth to work through the worst weather that January could offer. The roads were invariably clogged with cagers making it extremely difficult to do more than 30mph. The odd frenzied acceleration session put 75mph on the speedo. It was too cold to take the bike out on the weekends for a good thrashing.
The RGV responded to the low speed running by gulping down fuel at a most horrifying rate - 25 to 30mpg! After about two weeks on salt infested roads, the calipers started to seize up, I had to strip all three down. Just as well I did as the pads were down to the metal on the front. More bloody expense. Meanwhile, I had to go to see what the doctor could do about my swollen wrists and fast deteriorating posture. His advice was to stop riding those damn dangerous motorcycles.
With the Metz's fitted, the bike held a tenacious line to the often wet roads, was ridiculously easy to flick through the bends and on the few occasions I got the speedo above the ton was rock steady. I could have done with some less harsh suspension, though. The brakes when they were not seized saved me from a couple of mad cagers who pulled out of nowhere. On the RXS I would have plunged right into them but on the RGV I had loads of space left. The RGV's minimal mass must help with the braking.
On one section of icy road I thought I was going to lose the plot, both tyres lost grip and the bike was sliding off the road. Luckily, it found some tarmac before disaster occurred, the whole chassis giving a massive twitch as grip was regained. More usually, there was nothing that could really upset the Suzuki, although the way the suspension reacted to each and every bump made it feel rather nervous, a sensation that was to fade as the miles increased.
February came quickly enough, but it was even wetter than the previous month. A spate of blowing bulbs added to my problems. I feared it was the dreaded Suzuki electrical malaise, but it turned out to be a loose wire in the fairing. The plastic, by the way, does a good job of throwing an excess of water over my legs but does provide surprisingly good protection for my hands. The screen is too low to be of any using in the commuting mode but if you get down on the tank when speeding it does aid the air flow over your head.
The calipers started seizing on again, one of the discs ending up so hot that it was warped. The ambulance crew had to be called to carry me out of the dealer's when I learnt how much a new one cost....no, seriously, I ended up paying fifty quid to a breaker for a disc and two spare calipers. Now I can clean a pair up ready for use, so the machine is only off the road for a couple of hours. The rear brake started making clanging noises which turned out to be the pads down to the metal (at 7650 miles).
At 8200 miles the engine went off tune at low revs, coughing and spluttering, just like when the spark plugs are shot. Only they weren't as it still did it when I replaced them. Taking off the fairing for the first time I was a bit annoyed to find that there were some cracks around the mounting holes and that it was a real pain to get the plastic to line up properly when putting it all back together. The dealer charged me £75 for freeing up the mechanism in the exhaust which aids low speed running....running not at all being the same as acceleration!
After nearly 3000 miles my body was beginning to adapt to the contorted riding position, my wrists had stopped swelling and my neck no longer threatened to seize solid. I was still receiving a pretty horrendous pounding from the road surface, though. In the first week of March the sun shone brightly on the first weekend, so there was no stopping me. The bike is quite good on the motorway, stable up to an indicated 130mph, well able to see off most cagers. Cruising at 110mph began to make some sense of the riding position and fuel hovered around the 25mpg mark, although oil seemed to be thrown out of the engine at an indecent rate, needing half a litre at every fuel stop.
Had a ball of a time on some smooth A-roads which were all but deserted, but then got caught up in some serious traffic which had speed down to a crawl. Some huge artic had overturned, taking out a couple of cages in the process. Got pulled by the police for the first time as well, something to do with shooting down the wrong side of the road at about 80mph. They let me off after the usual bullshit lecture. Gave a lift to a motorcyclist who had broken down. He staggered off after 40 miles, complaining viciously about the pillion perch. Ungrateful bugger. I was miffed as hell when I got home to find that his 15 stones had cracked the plastic around the rear of the seat.
That 300 mile blast made me think of the Suzuki as an exciting motorcycle for the first time in two months. I'd almost convinced myself that I should sell the beast as soon as the motorcycle season started in favour of something more practical. But the way it had performed on the motorway and in the country had convinced me that it was a brilliant machine. March went by with the usual caliper problems, the warmer weather convincing me that I should use the bike more and more. Did 2500 miles that month. That extra mileage meant I had to pay out for a new set of tyres plus a chain and sprocket set (with 11,500 miles on the clock).
April was pretty much what you'd expect. Warmer days but wild cloud bursts that came out of nowhere and drenched you in seconds. Still, I did 3000 miles over the month, the calipers not needing any attention, although I did have to fit another set of pads out front. The cracks in the fairing and seat surround became larger, making the bike look about five years old. I fixed them with some GRP and got the bike resprayed in BMW cream white. Looks lovely now!
The engine hasn't needed any attention, I just keep an eagle eye on the oil level which can drop very rapidly. The bike's not really suited to anything other than balls out riding, but I have found you can force it to do just about anything you want. However, it'd probably be cheaper to buy an RXS100 for the commuting and keep the RGV for the fast and furious stuff....the Suzuki goes through tyres, pads, chains, fuel and oil like nothing else I've come across. It says a lot for the kicks the bike delivers that I'm going to stick with it. I can hardly wait for the summer months!
I. MacClean
Return to Contents for Suzuki Strokers
The modern 125cc two stroke single, with its watercooled engine, exhaust and induction valves and use of high tech manufacturing methods should be good for at least 25 horses without ruining reliability nor becoming impossible to ride at low revs. The power characteristics of these engines are usually gentle if clean running below 7000rpm, then going wild as the throttle is cracked open.
Good for about 70mph at 7000 revs in sixth gear, would suggest that they are making 12hp at the point before the power pours in. Were these engine thus restricted to these revs they would make ideal devices for the UK learner market, with such a soft power delivery and such a good chassis (made for over twice the power) that few learners would get themselves into serious trouble. Strokers, when properly designed, are quite efficient beasts at this capacity, should in 12hp form, be able to turn in 90 to 100mpg.
This long preamble, which in this instance is aimed against the Wolf, could equally be used in attacking any of the other 125 quasi-racers. They are all much of a muchness, restricted to 12hp by interfering with either the exhaust or induction path; a senseless piece of vandalism against engines that have had thousands of design hours to set them up perfectly in high power form for more enlightened markets than the UK. If you doubt this just look at the relative economy figures on most of the watercooled strokers; when they are derestricted they become more economical yet twice as powerful!
The simple solution to restricting an engine is to use a shortened throttle cable so that a fully open twistgrip only allows the motor to rev to 7000rpm! This has the added benefit that even the most inept mechanic can derestrict the bike. All companies who adopt this solution can bung me a wedge via the UMG.
Thus we come to the Suzuki RG125U Wolf. An inspiring little motorcycle to look at, for sure, with a chassis that would not have been perturbed by the kind of power put out by 250s in those happy days when they were allowable as learner machines, let alone the paltry 12 horses with which it is endowed.
The naked look is becoming ever more popular, the race replica image in its profusion of models and sameness of lines becoming rapidly passe. With its mono-shock rear end, excess of discs, upswept exhaust, three spoke wheels, large section frame and bright red paint, the RG125U looks every bit the business.
The truth, of course, is that some dodgy old geezer on a KH125 is going to stay planted on the Wolf's numberplate however much effort is put into the throttle and gearbox. Whilst the RG tracks well around corners, can be flicked every which way with hardly any effort and only shakes its head on very bumpy exits, speed, power and mass are so minimal in this category that some old rat 125 ridden hard will stay with the Suzuki, albeit with a lot of wallowing, weaving and weirdness. Don't get me wrong, I'd much prefer to jam around on the Wolf than some dreadful old hack, but not at the cost of more than two thousand notes.
The engine always felt as if something was slightly off - a similar effect is apparent in other restricted 125s - as if it was struggling against itself to overcome the half-hearted, ill thought out restriction. Vibes were absent, the engine running better if more than 3000 revs were dialled in, the exhaust blowing off a little oil if the bike was used continuously in town, although the spark plug showed no signs of oiling however slow the going.
After the first day of cursing the lack of speed, I began to adapt to its nature, using the bike for slicing a fast path through London traffic. Cruel abuse of the clutch and operatic use of the gear lever kept me ahead of all but the most insane despatchers, whose death defying antics seemed to involve riding straight through crowds of suddenly cowering pedestrians.
Strung out in the lower gears at high revs the exhaust gave off enough noise to poison the whole world against bikes and give me flashbacks to my dissolute youth. After a few days of this self-abuse I actually found myself throwing a leg over the Wolf with an evil grin only obscured by my newly purchased black visor.
A lot of this fun was down to the mere 210lbs mass allied to the ultra stiff frame, reasonable suspension and fierce brakes. Anyone into cut and thrust riding would thus find the Suzuki a delight in town. Stopping on a dime takes on a whole new meaning on the Wolf......I often thought that the back wheel was going to bounce up a yard or two, maybe go right over my head.
The thankfully large petrol tank (3 gallons) meant that fuel stops were about 150 miles apart. For the aforementioned reasons, fuel economy was shocking for such a low powered unit. Ridden gently you'd be lucky to get 70mpg.....or avoid being mowed down by irate car drivers. I usually did about 50mpg, which wasn't much better than a 140mph CBR600 I once had the pleasure of thrashing.
Out of town riding was tedious, the bike was too slow to keep up with general traffic flow on any half decent bit of road. Ultimate top speed was a quite respectable 80mph but any number of unfavourable conditions would easily cut that to under 70mph. I vividly recall one urgent motorway dash into a headwind, the poor motor feeling like it was going to bust its guts in fourth gear - good for 65mph flat out; changing into fifth or sixth just threw the machine into a sulk and 60mph maximum.
The RG has a big bike feel, the minimal seat was more comfortable than it looked as I was comfortably wedged between the bum-stop and large tank, with none of the feeling of many a tiddler of being perched high above the machine. The ergonomics of the Suzuki are excellent, only the minimal seat padding will intrude after about 75 miles.....which is about all I'd want to do in one session given the enervating nature of buzzing up and down the gearbox, winding the throttle on and off whilst judging the road and traffic characteristics up ahead so as to get an edge on the minimal power output.
Any bike that weighs only 200lbs is going to get knocked around a bit by the wind and road bumps. The Suzuki seemed less afflicted, some of the lightweight replicas with their expanse of GRP could become very nasty when subjected to strong side-winds. The tyres also gripped well even in the most torrential downpour when the roads were awash with streaming water. I felt safer on the Wolf than many a heavier, more powerful machine. Had I a son who wanted to start riding on an RG I could find few objections, as long as he didn't expect me to pay for it.
There's not much more that can be said about the Wolf. Oh, running costs? I did so few miles on this one that I can't really comment but past experience suggests tyres, chains and pads won't last as long as you'd hope - the people who design these fashion accessories don't give a damn about optimising the engineering to allow maximum consumable life. The pity is that they will end up being ridden on shagged chains, worn tyres and most dangerous brakes just because they wear so quickly and cost so much to replace.
Most of my complaints about the Wolf can be equally levelled at the other 125s, so don't take them to heart if you like its looks and it feels nice to sit on. You can always pass your test and enjoy a year or two with the motor derestricted - an entirely different ballgame!
Dick Lewis
Return to Contents for Suzuki Strokers
So this was paradise. The hugely hyped RGV250. I wasn't that impressed, burping out of a bumpy country road had the bars swinging from lock to lock and yours truly trying to recall if he had his private health card (the difference between having a leg fixed and it amputated if I fell off badly). Flicking the 320lbs of high technology stroker upwards the handlebar hiatus died out.
When the exhaust valves opened up, the little vee twin stroker wailed like a banshee and almost managed to dislocate my shoulders. Only 60 horses, or so, but direct stroker action has always been a little wild every since the Kawasaki H1 500 triple defined the madness back in the seventies. I told myself to grin, I was after all in paradise.
The previous owner, some moped graduate, reckoned he couldn't get on with the gearbox and the need to keep 8000 revs on the tacho to stop the motor sulking. Well, yes, that might be a bit of a shock to the system after a step-thru or even a 12hp learner; a conviction illustrated by an excess of crashed examples in breakers. Me, I just grinned and bore the left foot work (bound to be good for circulation) and tried to keep the front wheel on the ground.
The gearbox's very strange for a Suzuki, which are usually smooth and slick rather than being inspired by a tractor and having a few loose bearings rolling around just to add to the impression that at any moment the whole thing's going to fall apart. This, on a '92 model with a mere 2750 miles under its fashionably wide wheels. If all the noise and grumbling's ignored it does indeed work and can be flicked through the ratios at a pace that keeps up with the way the tacho needle flicks into the red at 12 thou within less than the blink of an eye.
8000 to 12000 revs is where the engine lives and breathes fire. Sometimes I just ride up and down my favourite roads, playing games on the throttle and gearbox. It can go on for hours and hours. The lack of mass (320lbs dry) means it can be thrown around like a 125, the hefty alloy frame holding everything in line even when the upside-down forks let the bars get out of hand on bumpy corner exits.
Weird that, rather like rear disc brake, fashion overtakes function and I'm left with bars that wobble like an RD350LC on flat tyres. The RGV has wide, state of the art wheels but my abiding impression was that there was too much unsprung weight, especially at the front end, compared to the mass of the chassis. Making the bike a little edgy as it fought to control the wheels. It may just've been me more used to old fashioned machines; after a while both Suzuki and I settled down to each other ways.
One heavy demand that the RGV made was its thirst for oil, though the exhaust fumes never quite imitated MZ's. Perhaps because it had to be fed on very expensive synthetic oil that though consumed at the rate of half a litre every 150 miles never really left much of a detritus out of the exhaust. I always carried a litre bottle but bought the oil in bulk and kept it back home - some of the prices garages charge for oil's ridiculous!
Another bit of madness was the way the bike would slide around in the wet, even on newish tyres. Purely down to the way the power snapped in at eight grand. Even in a straight line, the back end would waggle around quite viciously. Banked over, it was a quick way to suicide. The answer was to either use a tall gear and high revs, which meant improbable speeds, or keep below eight grand in second or third. The latter resulted in ruined spark plugs in about 200 miles and insufficient performance to see off restricted 125s.
Placing a pillion on the back helped, but the passenger wasn't overwhelmed by the experience and it made the bike even more reluctant to run below 8000 revs. I had the choice of riding like a pensioner or a juvenile delinquent, impatience usually favouring the latter.
Which is to say, I fell off a few times despite my experience and dislike of the dreaded tarmac rash. Most of that was down to the sudden emergence of 60 horses on wet roads. It only hurt once, when I was silly enough to fall on to my hand and strain my wrist. As it was my right wrist, it meant I couldn't ride for a couple of weeks. Decidedly not paradise.
The bike survived, tearing off various brackets, breaking up the plastic and shedding further pounds by losing the indicators. After a winter of discontent (yes, I actually rode through the winter), I'd done in both sides, the bike passing itself off as a rogue twenty year old, though in eight months I'd at least made the RGV work for its money, with nearly 20,000 miles on the cracked clocks.
Some remedial action was needed. This involved sniffing around breakers, where I came to the conclusion that the last thing to do to an RGV was bend the forks - just about every one I saw looked like it'd crashed into the side of a Transit or hit a brick wall. Along with a bit of bodging (DIY plastic welding, etc) the reinvigorated chassis was soon ready to hit the road.
One engine chore was checking over the exhaust valves every 3000 miles. They could stick if not well looked after, which turned the engine constipated and myself psychotic. I'd always been a bit worried about engine noises - slapping, pinging and rattling - which I thought should've been soaked up by the watercooling. Apparently not, the RGV's I listened to were just as bad. The thing to watch out for is unusual vibration, a sure sign that the motor's about to have a nervous breakdown.
For the summer I carried on with the frantic riding, smiling every time the sun was out, cursing when the rain fell. Also cursing when the tyres were finished off in 3500 to 4000 miles, about £140 for a pair of Metz's. The brake pads went in a similar mileage (you have to laugh, Suzuki wanted over fifty quid for the front end) and in winter it was necessary to do a caliper strip down every pad change.
One particularly tedious piece of work was balancing the carbs every 2000 miles. If this wasn't done then some quite intense vibes would rattle the plastic and it'd run like an old RD with seized up powervalves. I say tedious because lots of bodywork had to be torn off and then the carbs weren't exactly accessible. Some wear meant they were very difficult to set up. That may not have aided fuel economy, which went from 20 to 30mpg, and even managed 15mpg on one exuberant outing.
All good things come to an end eventually. 28000 miles had the top end rattling like a H1 Kawasaki. The RGV has barrels and pistons that are a touch on the fragile side, especially if the engine's put on a diet of cheap oil. Considering that the motor revved to twelve grand, it's amazing that the lubrication system was up to keeping the crankshaft going, for it's bearings were still okay.
A set of pistons and rings cost a hundred notes, which was okay until I realised that the barrels could not be rebored. Time to talk kindly to the breakers. As mentioned, there were a lot of crashed RGV's around and I soon picked up a newish set of barrels and pistons. The engine wasn't that difficult to work on once all the shit was removed.
Well, the bike didn't quite have the edge of the old one. I rode for about 3000 miles, not grinning all that much as the chassis was going into quick rot mode and the verve was no longer compulsive. That's something I've found with Japanese bikes, own them for a year, or so, and they become boredom city.
I'd been neglecting the bike quite a lot, just running and riding the RGV into the ground. There were so many bits cracking up or corroding away that I couldn't have kept up with them even if I wanted to. Not unless I was going to give over my weekends to motorcycle maintenance. The explosion, when it came, almost made me jump out of my skin. My fingers hastened for the clutch lever as the locked up rear wheel tried to tear up the rubber.
By some wild law of physics bits of exhaust valve were sucked up into the engine, ruining just about every internal component. That kind of pissed me off and the chassis was so far gone that there was no justification for fitting another engine. The Suzuki had all the wild, wacky kicks of some seventies stroker, near brilliant handling on dry roads, and.....the potential for blowing up in a big way. I wouldn't mind a new one despite the above.
Steve Durridge
Return to Contents for Suzuki Strokers
It was sex that made me buy a 1988 Suzuki RG125. At the tender age of 17 I was much impressed by a friend who had one and pulled a string of beautiful girls. L-plates were dumped after the first day, much easier than taking the test and necessary to carry a pillion. All the girls seemed to suddenly disappear! Those I approached just smirked or laughed. I was despondent for a whole week until I realised that motorcycling was a lot of fun; even better than computer games, although you could hurt yourself seriously.
I found that out very quickly. On the third day I was giving the throttle thing a bit of effort when a couple of cars orchestrated a perfect pincer movement. Leaving me the choice of hitting a bollard or the front of an oncoming car. Luckily, the bollard had already been loosened in a previous accident and a bit of heavy work on the front brake avoided total suicide.
I still flew through the air, for once thankful for the government's omni-presence (ie the crash helmet law) but wishing that they made tarmac a touch softer. I rolled down the road with cages whizzing by on each side. I could easily have lost a leg or two!
The Suzuki had a cracked front wheel, broken indicators and a couple of bent levers. After the shock dissipated a little I noticed that the whole of the female sixth form were rolling around in hysterics on the pavement. They got their act together long enough to give me a round of applause. I suppose I should mention that I'm a bit underweight for my age and the old man reckoned I looked like a flea on an elephant once astride the RG. To be fair to him, he did cough up the insurance money.
There was a £200 excess on that so it was cheaper to raid the breakers. The breaker found the sight of me cowering before his dog hilarious and only begrudgingly handed over the bits, making some stupid remarks about my proficiency at riding and the likelihood of my messing up the rebuild...in my haste to be back on the road I forgot to properly tighten up the front spindle, resulting in a huge wobble at about 30mph. Just my luck for some fat old cop to pop up out of nowhere, grumbling out some sarcastic remarks about me not looking old enough to hold a motorcycle licence. Some squawking on his radio drew him away before he could demand my documents. Shortly after that, I gave up on any illusions of pulling birds and replaced the L-plates.
The RG looks a touch angular and has a bunch of controls that require lots of attention. In particular the clutch had a very sharp take-up that made the bike easy to stall. A bunch of revs solved that but made the bike susceptible to twitching up off the road on one wheel. Felt very precarious to me until I sorted out the balance point, then I could go into a quite impressive act.
The least edifying aspect of the Suzuki was the hardness of the seat and the poor position of the bars. I couldn't believe how sharp edged and hard the saddle became after as little as 25 miles. My friend with a similar machine, and a desperate need to do a few hundred miles over a weekend, soon developed a bandy legged funny walk that made him look like a cross between Charlie Chaplin and John Wayne. Not wanting to end up in the same state I usually kept my mileage down to a more moderate level.
Given that this was a lightweight, low powered 125, the restraint in mileage was just as well because the fuel was only around 40mpg. Having to use the revs to get anywhere fast probably accounted for this dire lack of frugality but that was no help with the fuel (or oil) bills. The old man couldn't understand its thirst, mumbling that in his day even a 650 twin would turn in 60 to 70mpg and I'd be better off buying a car. Okay, the cooking 125 singles, like the CG125 or GS125, will manage over 100mpg but I just don't like the way they look. Riding around on an old commuter's mount at seventeen just ain't on. If they put one of those four stroke engines into a replica chassis I might be more interested.
On the consumable front, tyres were okay (they never wore out in 5000 miles) but the drive chain was awful. What a pathetic bit of nonsense. I had to adjust it every other day and replace it in less than 3000 miles. Is this 1995 or 1905? Could've fooled me! I might've had more luck if I'd changed the sprockets (there was over twenty thou on the clock) but I didn't think of that then.
The next accident was caused by diesel on the road. Running slowly through a roundabout the front wheel just slid away. No warning whatsoever, no chance to fight back. I flew through the air like an exocet missile, finding the side of a slow moving car to head-butt. It nearly tore my head off my neck but I refused to go to hospital even though I'd spewed up my school dinner into my helmet. Ugggh! The bastard machine was scratched and dented but in one piece except for cracked indicators and bent levers (again). The same breaker was highly amused to see be back for more bits in less than a month.
After that accident I was a new man. For a whole month I rode with great probity, scared shitless that I was going to come off again and this time seriously injure myself. After a while boredom ruled and I went back to abusing the throttle like a druggie desperate for some kicks. School, lack of women and no money gets to you like that.
The next event of great importance wasn't down to falling off but caused by the piston rings breaking up and scraping huge gorges in the bore. The first I knew of this was a huge amount of heat coming off the mill and lots of ringing noises. I ignored them, not knowing any better, received my just deserts in the form of the motor seizing up solid. My clutch hand worked of its own volition and death by being viciously chucked off was narrowly avoided.
Another visit to the breaker, who was becoming almost friendly (he didn't let the mutt loose), and offered to do the rebuild (crankshaft, piston and barrel) for a hundred quid, parts included. As I didn't know what I was doing I said okay, immediately becoming paranoid that he'd fit worn out bits.
I needn't have worried because the motor sounded quiet and went incredibly well. After the test ride I returned with a big grin, to be informed that he'd derestricted the engine whilst he was at it. Despite the obvious presence of L-plates and his knowledge of the times I'd fallen off. Really, it was a bit too fast for me; the powerband was very vicious, needing the throttle to the stop and much work on the gearbox. I was a rolling accident looking for somewhere to happen...
The third crash, I like to believe, was down to a car driver roaring across a junction. His excuse was that he didn't see me. He should've heard me as the degutted silencer gave a sort of sonic boom when I was up to speed. I had the right of way and saw no reason to back off from my 50mph pace. Spying the car all I had time to do was twitch the bars and pray. I actually missed the auto but found myself aboard an out of control missile. Harsh application of the brakes caused me to slide off again. This time there were no cars in the way and I just (just!) tore off a layer of flesh from my leg. Hospital was unavoidable but I soon had the RG back on the road.
For some reason, during the first month of winter, the frame went into fast corrode mode. There was rust breaking out everywhere. Added to this were loads of hairline cracks in the plastic, due as much to the harsh vibes as my rough handling when trying to get at the engine (not to mention the crashes). I was soon riding around on a bike that looked like it'd done a 100,000 miles off road! I half-heartedly wire-brushed the rust off the frame and touched it up. The fairing didn't fall off so that was left to its own devices.
I shouldn't have bothered as in a matter of weeks all the rust was back. The motor was making funny noises again, objecting to the way I caned it everywhere. The final straw was yet another accident - I think there's something wrong with the front end's geometry. The wheel just went away without any warning at 40mph around a country lane. Took a lot of careful searching to find the patch of gravel. More leg rash for me and the one side of the bike took a real battering from the grass. I struggled with the bike all the way home, almost screaming from the leg damage, and the way the RG veered all over the road. I sold the thing in that state for £150 and bought a nice little car.
Motorcycling hurts too much and derestricted RG125's encourage crazy riding. The race replica style's one big rip-off and I only wish I'd read the UMG before I got into the game. What am I doing reading a motorcycle mag if I'm driving a car? Well, simple really, these traffic jams are driving me crazy and I'm really yearning for two wheels. Next time around I'll be more careful in my choice of bike and buy some body armour!
T.R.
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