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Ah, the heady days of youth. Running amok in a carefree world filled with girls, excitement and cheap cider. The glory days, the best times of our lives. Well, maybe in an ideal world. But I remember those years somewhat differently. Spots, insecurity, sexual rejection. God, who'd want to be 17 again? Well, us, as it turns out. Which is why, on a sunny Sunday morning in March, six of us - myself, Evil Jim, Daryll, Urry, ad bod Simon and Jim's mate Ferret - are preparing to relive our teens, just for a day.
With most of our party rapidly approaching middle-age, an outing like this would require careful teen-style planning. First we'd need half a dozen bikes. They'd have to be 125s - remember, as we were going to spend the day as 17-year-olds we wouldn't be allowed to ride anything bigger. Secondly, we'd have to have an exciting destination to head to, and thirdly we'd need to stop off frequently for fuel, hamburgers, porn and sweets. And that's about it.
Well, we had the bikes sorted. A Honda CBR125R - the best-selling 125 in the UK - a Yamaha DT125R (with a very cool , limited edition Stefan Everts paintjob), Aprilia's saucy RS125, a Suzuki Van Van, Cagiva's Raptor 125 and the Derbi GPR125 Nude would be our steeds for the day. As for an exciting place to go, how about Brands Hatch for the first round of the British Superbike Championship? That would do nicely. And what about the rubbish food and sugary confections? Thanks to Urry, in his capacity as TWO's mobile wallet, we wouldn't have anything to worry about. Same went for the smut. We were ready to rock.
After each choosing a diminutive mount, we headed out from TWO Towers and merged into the morning traffic. It's just over 60 miles to Brands, which would be far enough on these low-powered machines. But I was about to be surprised by the eager nature of some of these bikes. Perched atop the Cagiva Raptor 125, this was the first time I'd been aboard a two-stroke in a very, very long time. Being used to big fours, the snatchy powerband of the Raptor initially took me by surprise. Below 5000rpm I had all the raging vim of my granny's sewing machine at my disposal, but as soon as the rev needle hit that 5K mark I was being rocketed down the road with considerable Žlan. Eek. Combined with the pungent stench of the two-stroke and the agitated mosquito exhaust note, I was starting to have fun. And we hadn't even stopped for a hamburger yet.
Pulling into McDonald's after a short blat down a couple of dual carriageways, it was finally time to eat our first allocated load of shite of the day. Between big bites of reconstituted muck, it was time to talk bikes. This was all starting to feel like a decidedly teenaged jaunt. And Evil Jim's whining disdain for his ride was only adding to the ambience. "The CBR125R just isn't cool," he spluttered between mouthfuls of rat McMuffin. "It looks like a scooter." We must note, at this juncture, that we're all supposed to be 17, so the appearance of these bikes is going to be even more important than usual. If you're going to pull a girl outside a fish and chip shop you'll need a good-looking machine. Right on cue, Urry arrived on the Aprilia RS125. This spanking new 2006 model, complete with USD forks, trick radial calipers and digi instrument panel - resplendent with trip computer - looks the business. But coolness comes at a price, and not just a financial one. "The RS is great fun if you're in the mood," said Urry, "but only if you're in the mood. Riding it is hard work. It's uncompromising, hard to pull away on, noisy, smelly and expensive. I love it." And he wasn't the only one. A small crowd had gathered around the RS, leaving the other five bikes looking a little, well, rejected. But the whole day lay ahead, so there would be ample time for them to prove themselves as worthy competitors for our 125 crown.
Ferret, unimpressed with the cheap and nasty feel of the Derbi GPR, swapped it for the DT and immediately started complaining about the high seat. Simon picked the Van Van, Jim snagged the Cagiva, Urry took the CBR, Daryll climbed aboard the Derbi and I, being the coolest of the group of course, snapped up the Aprilia. And what a step up from the rest it was. The only one with a 'proper sports bike' feel to it, the RS was a proper bastard to ride. No steering lock at all, as comfortable as a room at Guantanamo Bay, and with a hair-trigger clutch that made it almost impossible not to stall when pulling off, this was not an easy machine to ride. But once you got that screeching engine past 8000rpm and the mighty powerband kicked in, you'd forgive it everything.
Crouched over the clip-on bars, with my arse crack exposed to most of southern England, I simply couldn't believe that this was just a 125 as I tore past the others who had stopped in a lay-by to have a wee, a cigarette or some sweets. Heaving on the mighty anchors I slowed rapidly to the next roundabout and scythed round it to rejoin the group. Flipping heck. The handling, braking and performance felt like they had been retrofitted from one of Aprilia's more senior models. "It's the best-looking by a mile," sighed a smitten Simon. "It looks just like a mini RSVR." And with that he snatched the keys from my hand and took off. Fast. Leaving me with the Van Van. Tits.
Meanwhile, other keys were also changing hands. Daryll couldn't get away from the Derbi fast enough: "It's okay to ride but it feels really cheap. It's made of monkey metal and cheese." And with that the little man screeched off on the increasingly popular Cagiva Raptor.
Ferret, who only passed his big bike test four months previously, had not enjoyed his time in the Yamaha DT's saddle. "The seat height is a bit of a problem for me," he complained. "It probably doesn't help that I'm new to all this, but the bike feels a bit unstable. It's got a nice spread of power, but I just don't feel confident on it."
Urry was similarly unimpressed with the CBR. "I can see why it sells," he said. "It's solid, has a fuel gauge and a fairing and is exceptionally good value. But it's just a bit bland. There's no fun to be had from the engine and it doesn't have the race handling of the Aprilia at all. It's a bit of a disappointment, to be honest."
As we set off for Brands, I was prepared to be majorly disappointed with the tiny Van Van. After all, I'd spent the last half hour hooning around on the RS. This was quite a step-down. But there's something quite charming about the little Suzuki, with its big balloon wheels and comfy padded seat. True, it has the performance characteristics of a slug on Valium, but that's not what the Van Van's all about. It's really a lightweight runabout for town use, it's cool and retro-looking and you could strap your shopping to it if you wanted. Which is all good. But as I trailed behind the others I noticed, to my sudden horror, that they were filtering onto the M25. I realised, especially on this 12hp restricted model, that I may be at a slight disadvantage for motorway riding. As the others all sped off into the distance, I found myself leaning into the wind, throttle pinned, 57mph showing on the speedo, with a gargantuan 18-wheeled Scania bearing down on me in my rearview mirrors. You want a dictionary definition of 'not fun'? This is it. In real fear of myself and the Van Van becoming a bonnet ornament for the 10-ton artic behind, I frantically tried to speed up by dropping down into third gear. But to no avail. The fastest I could manage, even downhill, was precisely 67mph. As the truck finally overtook, the slipstream off its mighty flanks pushed me and the Van Van fully onto the hard shoulder. I managed to wrestle the Suzuki back into the slow lane and took the next exit off the M25 panting with relief. Here endeth the lesson: never, ever ride a restricted Van Van on a motorway.
At the scheduled fuel and sweet stop, the others seemed surprised to see me still alive. But some had their own unpleasant motorway stories to tell. "The CBR feels stable enough but it's just gutless on the motorway," moaned Jim. "I couldn't get above 70mph." 70? The lucky sod. Ferret, similarly, hadn't enjoyed his extended tenure of the Yamaha. "It just felt completely uncontrollable," he said nervously. "Especially in a breeze."
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Urry, Daryll and a very smug Simon, who'd been on the RS, were much happier as we filled up on Haribos and crisps after refuelling. Maybe it was that the trio of Italian two-stroke machines, with their rorty powerbands and screamy exhausts, were better suited to faster motorway riding. Even the much derided Derbi got a little praise from Urry. "It may look like it fell out of a Christmas cracker, but the GPR's engine is really strong," he reckoned. "Above 5000rpm the powerband kicks in and it really pulls like a train. A model train, mind. And you do have to bear in mind that the brakes don't really work."
Daryll, meanwhile, had been enjoying his time on the baby Raptor. "I felt like Roberto Locatelli riding it. It's a proper size and it really sounds and feels like a racy 125. I love it." Simon's love affair with the RS had not abated, and he refused to surrender the keys to anyone else.
So after some mild bike swappery, I found myself aboard the DT for the final 20-mile blat to Brands and BSB action. While I'm not too keen on off-roaders, and could appreciate Ferret's dislike of its vertiginous seat height, once on the move the DT felt pretty good, with plenty of power through the revs from its single cylinder two-stroke engine and without the nasty surprises of a powerband. The DT also had the manly qualities of a bigger bike, which can't hurt when you're posing down the chip shop. No, it's not your ideal motorway cruiser, but with a little more biking under his belt I reckon Ferret would grow to like this bike and not be so bothered by the high seat. After all, it posed no such problems to Daryll, and he's little taller than a garden gnome.
But our inconsequential 125s journey paled into insignificance as we arrived at Brands to be met by the high-pitched squall of superbikes. Here were real machines, with real power, ridden by real men. Suddenly my Van Van drama on the M25 didn't seem that big a deal as we watched seasoned BSB campaigners Rutter, Haslam, Lavilla et al brutalising their way round the Brands circuit. After spectating for a handful of laps and chowing down on some more bad food, we all suddenly stopped being teenagers. There were wives to get back to, social events to attend, cats to feed. Oh, how dull and middle-aged. But at least we'd come up with a conclusion as to which of our 125cc sextet would be best for you, especially if you're 17 years old.
In definite last place came the Derbi. Decent engine, but too cheaply built, with rubbish brakes and a deeply uncomfortable seat. It's also far too expensive for what it is, coming in at just over a hundred quid less than the desirable Aprilia.
Next up, the Van Van. It's a loveable lump and costs scooter money. We shouldn't love it but we do. If you never venture out of a 30mph zone it'll be ideal for you, and in many ways it's as cool as the Aprilia, but its appeal is really limited. And none of us thought any teenagers would lust after it. So, fifth place for the Suzuki.
In fourth position is Honda's venerable CBR. Dependable? Yes. Reliable? Definitely. Value for money? Absolutely. Deathly dull? Afraid so. It's the kind of bike your dad would buy you, for all the above (i.e. the wrong) reasons. But it is nearly a grand cheaper than its two-stroke Italian rivals. And you just can't ignore a bargain like that.
The Yamaha DT slots into third. It's probably the most sensible choice for a 17-year-old. It's good on and off-road, is competitively priced, relatively fast and with no fairing to replace and sturdy build quality, ideal for having a few teenage crashes on. It's also cool, something the Honda and Derbi are most definitely not.
But the Yamaha still can't live up to the coolness of our two finalists. The first of which is the Cagiva Raptor. It's not as well built as the Yamaha - what do you expect? It's Italian - but it feels like a proper bike, goes like a proper bike and sounds like a proper bike. What more do you want?
Well, an Aprilia RS125, if we're being totally honest. Yes, it's difficult to ride. Yes, it's expensive. Yes, it's for rich kids. But it's also the clear winner in this test. Why? Because it's fast, it's good-looking and it's impossibly cool. And, in an ideal world, that's what being a teenager is all about.
You're young, dumb and flush with enough cash to fill your tank. Bike mad teens after a groovy 125 to cut their two-wheeled teeth on are spoiled for choice these days, so which to choose? TWO's forever young testers relive the teenage dream on a sweet-fuelled road trip to Brands Hatch BSB
Ah, the heady days of youth. Running amok in a carefree world filled with girls, excitement and cheap cider. The glory days, the best times of our lives. Well, maybe in an ideal world. But I remember those years somewhat differently. Spots, insecurity, sexual rejection. God, who'd want to be 17 again? Well, us, as it turns out. Which is why, on a sunny Sunday morning in March, six of us - myself, Evil Jim, Daryll, Urry, ad bod Simon and Jim's mate Ferret - are preparing to relive our teens, just for a day.
With most of our party rapidly approaching middle-age, an outing like this would require careful teen-style planning. First we'd need half a dozen bikes. They'd have to be 125s - remember, as we were going to spend the day as 17-year-olds we wouldn't be allowed to ride anything bigger. Secondly, we'd have to have an exciting destination to head to, and thirdly we'd need to stop off frequently for fuel, hamburgers, porn and sweets. And that's about it.
Well, we had the bikes sorted. A Honda CBR125R - the best-selling 125 in the UK - a Yamaha DT125R (with a very cool , limited edition Stefan Everts paintjob), Aprilia's saucy RS125, a Suzuki Van Van, Cagiva's Raptor 125 and the Derbi GPR125 Nude would be our steeds for the day. As for an exciting place to go, how about Brands Hatch for the first round of the British Superbike Championship? That would do nicely. And what about the rubbish food and sugary confections? Thanks to Urry, in his capacity as TWO's mobile wallet, we wouldn't have anything to worry about. Same went for the smut. We were ready to rock.
After each choosing a diminutive mount, we headed out from TWO Towers and merged into the morning traffic. It's just over 60 miles to Brands, which would be far enough on these low-powered machines. But I was about to be surprised by the eager nature of some of these bikes. Perched atop the Cagiva Raptor 125, this was the first time I'd been aboard a two-stroke in a very, very long time. Being used to big fours, the snatchy powerband of the Raptor initially took me by surprise. Below 5000rpm I had all the raging vim of my granny's sewing machine at my disposal, but as soon as the rev needle hit that 5K mark I was being rocketed down the road with considerable élan. Eek. Combined with the pungent stench of the two-stroke and the agitated mosquito exhaust note, I was starting to have fun. And we hadn't even stopped for a hamburger yet.
Pulling into McDonald's after a short blat down a couple of dual carriageways, it was finally time to eat our first allocated load of shite of the day. Between big bites of reconstituted muck, it was time to talk bikes. This was all starting to feel like a decidedly teenaged jaunt. And Evil Jim's whining disdain for his ride was only adding to the ambience. "The CBR125R just isn't cool," he spluttered between mouthfuls of rat McMuffin.
"It looks like a scooter." We must note, at this juncture, that we're all supposed to be 17, so the appearance of these bikes is going to be even more important than usual. If you're going to pull a girl outside a fish and chip shop you'll need a good-looking machine. Right on cue, Urry arrived on the Aprilia RS125. This spanking new 2006 model, complete with USD forks, trick radial calipers and digi instrument panel - resplendent with trip computer - looks the business. But coolness comes at a price, and not just a financial one. "The RS is great fun if you're in the mood," said Urry, "but only if you're in the mood. Riding it is hard work. It's uncompromising, hard to pull away on, noisy, smelly and expensive. I love it." And he wasn't the only one. A small crowd had gathered around the RS, leaving the other five bikes looking a little, well, rejected. But the whole day lay ahead, so there would be ample time for them to prove themselves as worthy competitors for our 125 crown.
Ferret, unimpressed with the cheap and nasty feel of the Derbi GPR, swapped it for the DT and immediately started complaining about the high seat. Simon picked the Van Van, Jim snagged the Cagiva, Urry took the CBR, Daryll climbed aboard the Derbi and I, being the coolest of the group of course, snapped up the Aprilia.
And what a step up from the rest it was. The only one with a 'proper sports bike' feel to it, the RS was a proper bastard to ride. No steering lock at all, as comfortable as a room at Guantanamo Bay, and with a hair-trigger clutch that made it almost impossible not to stall when pulling off, this was not an easy machine to ride. But once you got that screeching engine past 8000rpm and the mighty powerband kicked in, you'd forgive it everything.
Crouched over the clip-on bars, with my arse crack exposed to most of southern England, I
simply couldn't believe that this was just a 125 as I tore past the others who had stopped in a lay-by to have a wee, a cigarette or some sweets. Heaving on the mighty anchors I slowed rapidly to the next roundabout and scythed round it to rejoin the group. Flipping heck. The handling, braking and performance felt like they had been retrofitted from one of Aprilia's more senior models. "It's the best-looking by a mile," sighed a smitten Simon. "It looks just like a mini RSVR." And with that he snatched the keys from my hand and took off. Fast. Leaving me with the Van Van. Tits.
Meanwhile, other keys were also changing hands. Daryll couldn't get away from the Derbi fast enough: "It's okay to ride but it feels really cheap. It's made of monkey metal and cheese." And with that the little man screeched off on the increasingly popular Cagiva Raptor.
Ferret, who only passed his big bike test four months previously, had not enjoyed his time in the Yamaha DT's saddle. "The seat height is a bit of a problem for me," he complained. "It probably doesn't help that I'm new to all this, but the bike feels a bit unstable. It's got a nice spread of power, but I just don't feel confident on it."
Urry was similarly unimpressed with the CBR. "I can see why it sells," he said. "It's solid, has a fuel gauge and a fairing and is exceptionally good value. But it's just a bit bland. There's no fun to be had from the engine and it doesn't have the race handling of the Aprilia at all. It's a bit of a disappointment, to be honest."
As we set off for Brands, I was prepared to be majorly disappointed with the tiny Van Van. After all, I'd spent the last half hour hooning around on the RS. This was quite a step-down. But there's something quite charming about the little Suzuki, with its big balloon wheels and comfy padded seat. True, it has the performance characteristics of a slug on Valium, but that's not what the Van Van's all about. It's really a lightweight runabout for town use, it's cool and retro-looking and you could strap your shopping to it if you wanted. Which is all good. But as I trailed behind the others I noticed, to my sudden horror, that they were filtering onto the M25. I realised, especially on this 12hp restricted model, that I may be at a slight disadvantage for motorway riding.
As the others all sped off into the distance, I found myself leaning into the wind, throttle pinned, 57mph showing on the speedo, with a gargantuan 18-wheeled Scania bearing down on me in my rearview mirrors. You want a dictionary definition of 'not fun'? This is it. In real fear of myself and the Van Van becoming a bonnet ornament for the 10-ton artic behind, I frantically tried to speed up by dropping down into third gear. But to no avail. The fastest I could manage, even downhill, was precisely 67mph. As the truck finally overtook, the slipstream off its mighty flanks pushed me and the Van Van fully onto the hard shoulder. I managed to wrestle the Suzuki back into the slow lane and took the next exit off the M25 panting with relief. Here endeth the lesson: never, ever ride a restricted Van Van on a motorway.
At the scheduled fuel and sweet stop, the others seemed surprised to see me still alive. But some had their own unpleasant motorway stories to tell. "The CBR feels stable enough but it's just gutless on the motorway," moaned Jim. "I couldn't get above 70mph." 70? The lucky sod. Ferret, similarly, hadn't enjoyed his extended tenure of the Yamaha. "It just felt completely uncontrollable," he said nervously. "Especially
in a breeze."
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Urry, Daryll and a very smug Simon, who'd been on the RS, were much happier as we filled up on Haribos and crisps after refuelling. Maybe it was that the trio of Italian two-stroke machines, with their rorty powerbands and screamy exhausts, were better suited to faster motorway riding. Even the much derided Derbi got a little praise from Urry. "It may look like it fell out of a Christmas cracker, but the GPR's engine is really strong," he reckoned. "Above 5000rpm the powerband kicks in and it really pulls like a train. A model train, mind. And you do have to bear in mind that the brakes don't really work."
Daryll, meanwhile, had been enjoying his time on the baby Raptor. "I felt like Roberto Locatelli riding it. It's a proper size and it really sounds and feels like a racy 125. I love it." Simon's love affair with the RS had not abated, and he refused to surrender the keys to anyone else.
So after some mild bike swappery, I found myself aboard the DT for the final 20-mile blat to Brands and BSB action. While I'm not too keen on off-roaders, and could appreciate Ferret's dislike of its vertiginous seat height, once on the move the DT felt pretty good, with plenty of power through the revs from its single cylinder two-stroke engine and without the nasty surprises of a powerband. The DT also had the manly qualities of a bigger bike, which can't hurt when you're posing down the chip shop. No, it's not your ideal motorway cruiser, but with a little more biking under his belt I reckon Ferret would grow to like this bike and not be so bothered by the high seat. After all, it posed no such problems to Daryll, and he's little taller than a garden gnome.
But our inconsequential 125s journey paled into insignificance as we arrived at Brands to be met by the high-pitched squall of superbikes. Here were real machines, with real power, ridden by real men. Suddenly my Van Van drama on the M25 didn't seem that big a deal as we watched seasoned BSB campaigners Rutter, Haslam, Lavilla et al brutalising their way round the Brands circuit. After spectating for a handful of laps and chowing down on some more bad food, we all suddenly stopped being teenagers. There were wives to get back to, social events to attend, cats to feed. Oh, how dull and middle-aged. But at least we'd come up with a conclusion as to which of our 125cc sextet would be best for you, especially if you're 17 years old.
In definite last place came the Derbi. Decent engine, but too cheaply built, with rubbish brakes and a deeply uncomfortable seat. It's also far too expensive for what it is, coming in at just over a hundred quid less than the desirable Aprilia.
Next up, the Van Van. It's a loveable lump and costs scooter money. We shouldn't love it but we do. If you never venture out of a 30mph zone it'll be ideal for you, and in many ways it's as cool as the Aprilia, but its appeal is really limited. And none of us thought any teenagers would lust after it. So, fifth place for the Suzuki.
In fourth position is Honda's venerable CBR. Dependable? Yes. Reliable? Definitely. Value for money? Absolutely. Deathly dull? Afraid so. It's the kind of bike your dad would buy you, for all the above (i.e. the wrong) reasons. But it is nearly a grand cheaper than its two-stroke Italian rivals. And you just can't ignore a bargain like that.
The Yamaha DT slots into third. It's probably the most sensible choice for a 17-year-old. It's good on and off-road, is competitively priced, relatively fast and with no fairing to replace and sturdy build quality, ideal for having a few teenage crashes on. It's also cool, something the Honda and Derbi are most definitely not.
But the Yamaha still can't live up to the coolness of our two finalists. The first of which is the Cagiva Raptor. It's not as well built as the Yamaha - what do you expect? It's Italian - but it feels like a proper bike, goes like a proper bike and sounds like a proper bike. What more do you want?
Well, an Aprilia RS125, if we're being totally honest. Yes, it's difficult to ride. Yes, it's expensive. Yes, it's for rich kids. But it's also the clear winner in this test. Why? Because it's fast, it's good-looking and it's impossibly cool. And, in an ideal world, that's what being a teenager is all about.
