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
****************************************************
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
****************************************************
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