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