STRIKING STROKER
Produced to celebrate Kevin Schwantz’s 1993 world championship win for Suzuki, the Lucky Strike RGV250 is well worth celebrating itself
Super-rare Suzuki RGV250 Lucky Strike replica, polished to two-stroke perfection
In 1993, Suzuki had a lot to celebrate. Texan Kevin Schwantz handed them their first 500cc class GP championship win in over a decade, having ridden exclusively for Suzuki since 1985 and in GPS full time from 1988. It was a fitting reward for the popular, hardriding Schwantz – as well as for Suzuki and team sponsors, American cigarette giant Lucky Strike. But after the champagne had been drunk, the high-fives shared and the backs slapped, how could they best mark their achievement – and maybe sell a few more road bikes too? With a special edition of their cutting-edge RGV250.
Suzuki fully embraced the second coming of the 250 road bike class. The change in learner laws that restricted learner riders to 125s might have almost killed off 250s in the UK, but quarter-litre bikes bounced back in the mid-1980s with a brace of race-replica two-strokes. The resurgence was spearheaded by Suzuki’s RG250 parallel twin, which was fast, light and handled well (as well as being the first massproduced road bike to feature an aluminium frame). When Yamaha’s TZR and Kawasaki’s KR-1 (and Honda’s NSR in Japan) caught the RG, Suzuki set the datum again with the all-new RGV.
The first VJ21 version (launched in Japan in ’88, the UK in ’89) was streets ahead of the RG. There was a new 90° V-twin engine with 32mm carbs that pumped out a claimed 55bhp at 10,750rpm. And development continued apace with the heavily-revised VJ22 in 1991.
This bike was yet another step up. New features included a trendy 17in rear wheel, a revised exhaust system with both silencers stacked on the right like a 500cc GP bike, upside-down forks and a gullwing swingarm. Just as importantly for the RGV’S intended audience, power was a claimed 62bhp – remarkable for a road-silenced 250. The following year’s RGV250N version was the last RGV to be officially imported in the UK. (It remained on sale in Japan until 1996, and was then replaced by the VJ23 with a new 50° V-twin engine that made 70bhp in Sports Production form and proved to be the ultimate RGV.)
When Nick Oakley’s bike rolled off the production line in 1993, the RGV was still very much the hot ticket in the 250 class. Especially as it was a Lucky Strike special edition. Suzuki had ceased production of their square-four RG500 road bike in 1987, which meant there was no 500cc stroker in their catalogue, so it was their cutting-edge RGV250 that they turned into a replica of Schwantz’s winning RGV500 to celebrate his 1993 world title. As it was only available in the Japanese market, it’s a desirable model – and being limited to between 300 and 500 bikes (depending on which source you consult) makes it even more special.
Nick’s machine has been tweaked a little further. “I bought the bike about eight years ago from Racing Lines in Derby,” explains the Long Eaton motorcycle dealer. “It had an MOT, but that was about it. It was pretty tired. Because I was a KTM dealer then, my initial plan was to put some Tyga pattern bodywork on it and paint it like a KTM 250GP bike. But then I did a bit of research on the bike and discovered that it was a pretty rare model, so I decided to restore it to almost original condition. I say almost, because I can’t leave things alone. I have to put my own mark on a bike.”
Nick has certainly managed that, but he’s done it in a subtle way that doesn’t detract from the striking visual impact of the Schwantz replica. “I love two-strokes,” says the top trials and enduro rider who recently put in 500 miles in a weekend acting as a travelling marshal for the VMCC’S Festival of 1000 Bikes at Mallory Park. “But I wanted a bit more go than the standard RGV, so I dropped the engine out and gave it to my mate Stuart Middleton to rebuild, while I got on with the rest of the bike. Aprilia used the RGV engine in their RS250, but did a bit more work on tuning it, and Stuart has fitted Aprilia barrels and heads to the RGV engine. Together with the Aprilia ignition system, it lets the engine rev a bit more and boosts top-end power.”
Racepaint UK (racepaintuk.com) handled the allimportant Lucky Strike paintwork – the original finish had got a bit tatty. “They’ve carried the paint design onto the main frame spars on each side like the original
‘IT HAS APRILIA BARRELS, HEADS AND IGNITION, WHICH LET THE ENGINE REV A BIT MORE AND BOOST TOP END POWER’
race paintwork,” says Nick. “But I have made a few changes to the design. The lining on the wheels and the ‘34’ numerals on the wheel rims and the seat are my idea. I think it looks stunning, though.”
Nick’s personal touches are evident on other parts of the bike, too. The exhausts are from Arrow, there’s a pair of six-pot brake calipers from a Suzuki Hyabusa at the front end with a Brembo master cylinder, and the rear brake is from an Aprilia RSV V4 with a Tyga mounting bracket to position the caliper at the bottom of the Galfer wavy disc. The rearsets are made by Italian company Zetasassi, while the fork stanchions have been nitride-coated in gold with the spindle mounts and fork legs finished in black – the reverse of the standard colour scheme.
Suspension gurus Maxton have worked their magic on the fork internals, but the shock is one Nick bought secondhand and can’t remember what make it is. “It works mint, though,” he says. Nick’s made good use of his KTM parts stock, too. “I’ve fitted a really neat little alloy kickstart from a KTM SX85,” he confirms. “And the sidestand is a Super Duke part.”
The bike came back together pretty easily, Nick recalls. “I finished it about six years ago,” he says. “But with the shop and all my other bikes, I haven’t got to ride it that much. I guess I’ve put about 1000 miles on it in that time, but it is great fun to ride. You do have to keep it on the boil to get the best out of it, though.”
Just how much I’m about to find out, as I fire up the little V-twin and burble through Long Eaton, heading towards the wide open spaces of Donington Park. Sadly, I’m not going to be putting in a few laps today, but the car park provides a great
location in which to photograph Nick’s bike, while the warren of minor roads in close proximity to the circuit should provide plenty of opportunity to evaluate the qualities of the RGV.
First, though, it’s the slow trundle through the midmorning traffic in Long Eaton. I expect riding a raceinspired bike like this to be purgatory in town, but the riding position doesn’t feel too cramped and there’s enough room between the seat, rearsets and clip-ons to accommodate an average-sized (who am I kidding?) rider. And, while the power delivery certainly feels a little flat at sub-6000rpm engine speeds, the Suzuki carburates perfectly right from the bottom. I can let the engine gasp away like a restricted 125 without any hint of bogging down or loading up. And the engine ticks over faultlessly when I get stuck at a set of roadwork traffic lights. That’s a neat trick to pull off on a highperformance two-stroke.
That high performance is what the RGV250 is all about, though, and when I hit fast and flowing A-roads the other side of the RGV’S character bursts through. Keeping the throttle pinned until the needle sweeps past 8000rpm lets the genie out of the bottle – and above 9000, things really start to happen fast. Nick reckons the Aprilia barrels and ignition will let the bike rev to 12,500, but I’m changing up at 11,500 or thereabouts. Even that far short of maximum revs, the acceleration and the hard-edged wail from the twin Arrow pipes is spine-tingling. Despite its fairly narrow spread of real power for a road bike, the snappy and positive gearchange means it doesn’t feel like hard work to keep the Suzuki pulling in the fat of the powerband. When the time comes to slow things down a bit, the uprated Hayabusa brakes at the front do a stunning job. Two fingers on the
forged, span-adjustable lever on the Brembo master cylinder is enough to bring the RGV to heel with tyrechirping ferocity – though there’s so much feel it would take a really panicky grab to lock up the front end. With a mere 139kg (plus rider, of course) to pull up, the six-pot calipers are probably overkill – but when you need to stop in a hurry it’s good to have such power.
What lifts the RGV from good to excellent, though, is the outrageously good handling. There might be betterhandling bikes around – but if there are, I’m certainly not a good enough rider to tell the difference. The little Suzuki definitely flatters my abilities. It might not be the fastest bike on the road, but its ability to change direction in the blink of an eye (doubtless helped by its welcome lack of bulk) and its stability in fast corners, makes it cover the ground as fast as just about anything. On the mix of twisty B-roads and fast, sweeping A-roads I’m enjoying today, I don’t think I’d be any faster on a bike with three times the capacity.
I’d need longer than my ride today to really become one with the RGV. A bike like this rewards familiarity and encourages neat, tidy riding and carrying corner speed. It’s not about outright speed, it’s about seeing how far I dare tip it into the next corner – the pleasure of riding a motorcycle distilled into a compact, punchy, sweet-handling package. I’d say most riders could learn a lot about riding – and themselves – on an RGV250.
Certainly, owner Nick Oakley agrees. “I love it,” he says simply. “I got to do a few laps on it at the Mallory Festival and it felt just great. It’s so light you can just sling it about and take liberties without getting into trouble. The only thing I’d like is for it to make a bit more noise. It really needs to sound a bit more like a race bike.” I’m not sure Nick’s neighbours would agree, but I can certainly appreciate why he likes the bike so much.
That said, it’s a bike that probably divides opinion, too. You
might think it a bit
strange to be featuring an RGV250 in Classic Bike. Surely it’s a modern bike, isn’t it? Well, yes and no. Certainly Nick’s VJ22 could comfortably hold its own against more than a few modern machines. And it certainly doesn’t feel at all dated hammering along twisty Derbyshire B-roads. But the fact remains, this is a bike that’s a quarter of a century old. When the first issue of CB came out in 1978, a 1953 Gold Star would have been the same age as the RGV is today. Would that have been a classic back then? I think so. And in any case, the Oxford Dictionary defines the adjective ‘classic’ as: ‘judged over a period of time to be of the highest quality and outstanding of its kind’. Twenty five years on, that to me sounds just like the
Suzuki RGV250.