Those 22 horses need a 10,500rpm redline but with only half that number to play with on the restricted bike the tacho's last few segments are left unused. The needle rarely climbs above nine grand and the NS's 70mph top whack comes at 8000rpm in top gear. Unless you've a slope or tail wind to help you're better off in fifth, as the Honda is geared too high to pull top more than occasionally. The reed-valve engine is very smooth and has a good, manageable spread of power, with no real steps once the motor has started working properly at four thou. But come across a slope in the wrong direction and the resultant fourth gear, 50mph crawl shows the NS up for the emasculated fraud it is. Being overtaken by the Metro-driving old biddy you've just passed in full chin-on-the-tank mode is embarrassing as well as frustrating.

The great thing about small bikes, on the other hand, is that you can have some outrageous thrashes without even breaking the speed limit. We went all the way to MIRA to discover that the NS and RG are near-identical on performance, and just to prove it we adopted Angel Nieto pose all the way back down the Ml in an attempt to see who could get home first. The sight of art assistant Tom coming past me with his helmet somehow behind the Honda's tiny screen, his left hand round the fork stanchion and his long legs folded double almost had me falling off the Suzuki with laughter.

The bikes were as evenly matched as they could have been, the only advantage seeming to go to whoeverjhad scored the better tow from a passing car or who had found the longer clear run. I was reminded of another highlight on my old SL125 — the one and only time it made 60mph, in a frantic M23 dice with a friend's similar but newer bike which most unfairly turned out to be a good 5mph faster than mine. But he drew away with his handlebars flapping rhythmically from side to side as his chassis decided that, like my bike, it couldn't keep up with his engine.

With a good tail wind to help, this pair of two-strokes indicated 80mph-plus on occasions but their chassis were mure than equal to the speed. We arrived home slightly stiff-legged, although the Honda's big for a 125 and fairly comfortable, still grinning and having taken not much longer than I had on the GPX750 a few days earlier. (Much of the bigger bike's cruising speed advantage having been nullified by an expensive hard-shoulder lecture on the new speeding fines system.)

The Honda's forks and single rear shock are made by Marzocchi and work well to give quick steering and a firm ride. Both ends are unadjustable — surprisingly in the case of the Pro-Link shock, which handled my 14 stone well but which lighter riders might find too hard. Like almost any light bike the NS is a bit skittish when attacked by bumps or sudden winds but it generally goes where it's pointed.

The powerful front disc brake is made by Grimeca, as are the elegant wheels (16in front; 18 rear). Tyres are redoubtable Metzelers which, as that firm is now owned by Pirelli, almost qualify as being Italian (quiet, Hans). The rear brake is a drum and should allow some control even to the most lead-footed of learners. Clocks, switchgear and bar-mounted choke are typically competent Honda items which the spaghetti expert at Atessa had apparently plugged in correctly, as everything worked. This could be the best-finished Italian bike ever, though a worryingly long sidestand made me wonder about its chances of staying that way.

Less radical than the tingly Suzuki with its full fairing and footpegs near the rear wheel spindle, the NS is certainly one of the best bikes a learner could hope to own. But, nice as it is, this Honda is extremely expensive when you consider that, for all its handling advantages and pose value, a restricted NS is hardly faster than any much cheaper 12-horse machine. If you see one with L-plates you can bet there's a rich boy riding it. He won't get much sympathy from me.

Since Roland seems to be in confession mode, I suppose I'd better join in .My first venture in charge of two motorised wheels was aboard a ratty 600 Norton I was thinking of buying. It was called a Dominator and I soon discovered why. An elaborate starting ritual was followed by a brief interlude of youthful complacency, then an abrupt transition to abject fear, with a short but deadly bout of paralysis in between. Needless to say I bought the bike and eventually grew to hate its gutless idiosyncracies as much as I loved its excess of handling overpower.

Today's brigade of restricted 125s are a bit like that, without the idiosyncracies. (I could never bring myself to regard as 'character' something which fell over or retired hurt on a dark, rain-lashed fellside in the middle of winter.) Carving-up city traffic or tearing around with a bunch of similarly-equipped fellow bandits aside, none of these emasculated poseurs could possibly be considered exciting after the first flush of ownership has faded; no wonder the manufacturers have taken to tarting them up as pseudo-racers. Unfortunately no amount of flashy paint and plastic can put back what the learner law's taken out.

This time last year Suzuki's RG was the latest of the sports 125s, and the flashiest. It speaks volumes that the newer NS is an improvement in cosmetic terms only, and that's only a matter of taste; assuming we're riding bikes at all in ten years' time, can we expect developments in this class to be confined to designer bodywork? Maybe that's the intention in Whitehall, at least until one of the big four start building bikes in Blighty. If so it's half-assed.

The Gamma, far from being the safest thing Concerned of Cheltenham could put her cherished brat on, is actually not that easy to ride. In common with the rest of the class it makes next to no power below 5000rpm and either completely bogs down on takeoff or screeches away like a stuck soprano. Now, with only 12 horses on tap that's not likely to faze the razor reflexes of you lot, but mere mortals are likely to find themselves wrapped around one bumper or another of an adjacent twelve-wheeler. The other side of the same coin is that the peaky power curves go into reverse on hills or if a headwind's even forecast, leaving that theoretical 70-ish top whack firmly back home in the manual.

We're saddled with the only market to require such horsepower limitations for 125s, so with the relatively small numbers of bikes involved no-one has gone overboard to design the engines to suit; all the 125s save Kawasaki's AR employ cheapo restrictors and/or just leave bits out, slicing the top off the power curve and giving very little in return. So why restrict tol2bhpandl25cc?A restricted 200, say, would be a far more agreeable proposition, not to mention even more fun to derestrict. (A certain LC of our acquaintance, bored out to 200cc and then breathed on, pumps out no less than 36bhp.)

Not that the RG and its ilk are all bad news. The Gamma is the lightest and possibly the best-handling of the lot with a knees-round-your-elbows riding position which dares you to make up in aggression what the motor lacks. Sixpences are obsolete but the opposed-piston brakes are anything but and the Suzuki would stop on one if you could find one; it's about as wide, too. So everywhere is ten-tenths throttle, every gap a game of chicken and every braking distance sufficient and sod Newton.

Now I know why despatch riders on 125s are such a bloody torment to other bikes, let alone cars: it's to do with a little-known concept called the Survival Quotient, in which a high number suggests long life.

Put crudely, the SQ is in direct proportion to the number of horsepower available and the street credibility of the bike, not inversely as some seem to think. Of course other factors like the proximity of closing time come into play, but after two weeks on the Suzuki my SQ shrank to the point where I stopped making appointments more than 20 minutes in advance.

In a chance conversation with Stan Stephens, a man who understands the delinquent urge better than most, I happened to mention the Gamma's stunted power characteristics. He reckoned he could resurrect the poor waif in about ten minutes flat, so the little Suzuki found itself in deepest Kent in not much longer. Stan duly kissed the sleeping beauty which six minutes later became the proud recipient both of the mods described elsewhere and about 120 per cent more power. What a transformation! Below 5000rpm there's slightly

less power—none as opposed to merely naff all—then there's a further 2000rpm of fairly docile activity before the little kettle shrieks to the boil, 10,000rpm and the next gear change. For the first time since I'd picked up the RG, I took the long way home, storm clouds and showers be blowed.

Even with wet roads, some fairly manic braking and brutal handfuls of throttle, the Suzuki's chassis was completely underwhelmed by its new-found speed and my new-found enthusiasm. As Roland observed on his somewhat slower version, tiddlers like this permit—or should that be encourage — all sorts of riotous behaviour and liberties. The frame is well up to demand in a lively sort of way, if all else fails the brakes are up to the extra kinetic energy you throw at them and even the suspension coped heroically with my 13 stones and Maggie's neglected roads.

Which leaves the question of who's going to buy the Gamma. It's certainly the raciest and most compact of the sports 125s so if you're over six foot you'd probably look a bit silly on it. My 6'2' felt uncomfortably wallyish until Stan found what was missing, after which I stopped caring. Under 5'8' and minus the go-slower bits you'll probably have a ball pretending you're Paul Lewis. If you have in mind to derestrict the RG it's probably the easiest and most productive of the eighth-litre herd to fettle. On the other hand if you're planning on sticking to 12bhp, you'd likely have more fun buying the extra option of going green-laning with a trail bike; dual-purpose tyres can only transmit about 12 horses through mud anyway.

Source Bike 1986