Suzuki Stinger
Mini twin
In various markets around the world, the Suzuki T125 was known as the Wolf, the Flying Leopard, and the Stinger, but to a generation of late ‘sixties consumers, Stinger it was. It was out there, man! Garish colours, racy styling, expansion chamber exhausts, the Stinger had the lot. The wedgeshaped fuel tank and long dual seat with its kicked up rear really got the pulse racing, at least for the younger set. When questioned as to just who they perceived the market to be, a spokesman for US Suzuki said, “The Stinger is aimed at high school and college students and young businessmen as an around-town motorcycle for transportation and fun…with enough performance to stay with the traffic”. A rare piece of marketing understatement.
For just $399 (including Australian sales tax) you could have a brand new T125 Stinger in 1969, with $125.42 deposit and monthly payments of just $17.34. Or for another $40 you could have the 1970 model T125-II, an uprated version with a few more tricks, in your choice of Pop Green, Candy Yellow or Roman Red. At the twist of a wrist, you had 15.1 horsepower on tap, at least when you reached 8,500 rpm. The T125-II varied only marginally from the 1969 launch model, in that it had chrome mufflers on black exhaust pipes, and “Suzuki” on the fuel tank. On the original T125, the exhausts were the opposite – chrome pipes with black mufflers. In Japan (and post 1970, in Australia and new Zealand), there was also the near-identical T90 Wolf; an 89cc twin that developed 10.35 hp from its 38 x 39.6mm bore and stroke engine. The dry weight for the T90 was listed at 90 kg, so just where it managed to save six kg over the 125 is hard to see. Not surprisingly, it was the bigger brother that dominated sales in the key export markets. Either way, it was a curious concept, but it worked. The revvy little piston-port twin was reminiscent of the Italian Rumi, but instead of Latin café racer styling, the Stinger was more of a Street Scrambler, with upswept twin exhaust pipes that finished in a hot dog style muffler, high, cross-braced scrambler style handlebars, and abbreviated chrome mudguards.
Inside the engine, with its near horizontal cylinders, was a pressed up crankshaft supported on four ball bearings, with needle roller bearings for the big and small ends of the conrods. Posi-Force, Suzuki’s version of the by-now universal positivefeed oiling dispensed with the need to pre-mix oil and fuel, with the oil carried in a small tank under the seat and fed into the engine via a rotary pump. A combination of throttle opening and engine revolutions dictated how much oil entered the engine. After pressure feeding the main bearings, pressed metal cups in the flywheels scooped up lubricant to feed into the conrod bearings. A five-speed gearbox with gear primary transmission sent the power to the rear wheel. The twin Mikuni MD-18 carburettors sit atop almost vertical inlet ports, breathing through an air filter with a paper element housed directly below the fuel tank. Thanks to the low slung engine, there’s plenty of space available in this area to house things. The cylinders and heads were separately cast – the barrels in cast iron and the heads – with deep, elaborate finning to catch as much air as possible – in aluminium alloy. The iron barrels also helped to keep engine noise down. The T125’s frame was also quite avant gard for the day, being a tubular steel fully triangulated affair with the engine unit suspended below. There was nothing particularly revolutionary about the suspension, which shared major components with Suzuki’s off roaders. Front forks were conventional steel-slider items with the usual (for the time) under-damped rear units that at least had provision
for spring pre-load. The single leading shoe front brake (rear trailing shoe) and hubs, laced to 18 inch rims, could be found on several other Suzuki models.
Suzuki’s sales brochure for the T125-II model could barely contain itself as it gushed out ‘the vibe’ in faltering Japanese English. “If you’ve ever competed in road race, you know the feel of the thrilling ride you are going to enjoy before you get on the Stinger…Some others like look a racer, but this Suzuki is the only bike that handlers (sic) like ones as well. Here’s the ultimate thrill of speedy motorcycling. Now at last you’ll know what they built smooth highways for…This winning bike makes you feel like a top racer yourself.” Gosh! Let me at it! Despite the odd mixture of on and off-road styling, the Stinger was a very attractive motorcycle, and highly distinctive. The separate speedo and tacho was an unusual touch for a Japanese ultralightweight at the time, and the headlight, which was usually housed in a bulbous casing, was virtually just the beam unit suspended on brackets which also carried the turn indicators. Suzuki bypassed the traditional two stroke bugbear of forgetting to turn off the fuel tap when the bike is parked and on the side stand, by running a vacuum line from the carburettors to the tap, which opens a valve when the engine is started. Like many others, the Stinger featured a kick starting system that allowed the bike to be started in gear with the clutch in – handy when the inevitable stall occurred in traffic. The T125-II continued in production until 1972, with USA briefly getting a T125-R model (R representing Suzuki’s year code for 1971) which basically only featured a slightly different fuel tank, and for some markets, such as South America, a down-pipe version that also had lower handlebars.
Testers of the day universally praised the engine; “A little jewel” said the US Cycle magazine. Also universal was the opinions of the ho-hum suspension, which nevertheless did its job and allowed the Stinger to be flung through corners with gay abandon, when that adjective had a different connotation. One common observation was that fuel consumption was on the heavy side. The Stinger lasted three years in production and sold well in most markets, particularly the UK and surprisingly, Scandinavia. But in the prized US market, two strokes, especially thirsty ones, were a dying breed in the face of severe new legislation, and the little twin disappeared along with many of its ilk. This lovely example came from Melbournebased classic shop MID LIFE CYCLES, at 22 Cremorne Street, Cremorne 3121, phone (03) 9421 3765. Owner Michael Catchpole is a real fan of these little beauties, so much so that he had three on the floor at the time of our visit – one of each colour!