Thursday, January 1, 2009

1976 Suzuki RM125

Things were happening quickly in motorcycle development in the mid-1970s. New technology was being introduced at a rapid pace, all in the pursuit of motocross dominance enjoyed by companies like Honda (and various factories before them).

Sometimes manufacturers would even introduce new models midway through a calendar year, especially in the hyper-competitive 125 class, and we racers were always looking for the "next big thing". It was commonplace to purchase a new bike every year, and sometimes every 6 months, if you wanted to stay competitive. Such was the impact of the emerging mechanical juggernaut of the Japanese quest for sales, pride and company honor.

Of course, we local Utah racers eagerly lapped up the spoils of this technological arms race, laying down our bets on new bikes at dealerships like Honda of Salt Lake, G&L Yamaha, Suzuki of Salt Lake, Plaza Cycle, Utah Sportcycle and others. 1976 was a hard year to choose sides, with Honda fans loathe to give up their little silver bullets, Yamaha loyalists exploiting the monoshock revolution, and Kawasaki riders wringing out their rotary valve KX125s. But many of us were enticed by the new Suzuki RM125, which looked like a copy of the factory "works" bikes ridden by Gaston Rahier and Harry Everts in the World Championship Grand Prix.

It turned out to be a good call. Suzuki had indeed grabbed the 125 class high ground, and we could tell these bikes were something special the first time we fired them up and blasted through the gears. The fat expansion chamber gave off a throaty mid-range burst of power that could be milked to advantage over the winding power curve of the competition. The rear suspension was also superior to what the other manufacturers were offering, with beefy, remote-reservior shocks mounted on a stout banana-shaped swingarm and offering nine-plus inches of controlled wheel travel.

The bike certainly looked the part with a works-replica gas tank, single-downtube frame, the aforementioned banana swingarm, some wide serrated steel footpegs, and a roomy layout that felt stable and relatively balanced. The front fork was of the straight-axle type, and was plush within the parameters of 1976-era performance, but gave the bike a slight front-down stance, the "stink bug" that was left over from the 1975 model bike, which had rear wheel travel exceeding the capabilities of the front suspension.

Sometime late in the year I installed a Marzocchi leading axle fork on my bike, purchased used from our favorite hang out, PF Racing. Since the bike was designed with a straight axle fork, the steering was probably affected in a negative way, but I never noticed. It looked cool, and that was enough for me. And besides, that fork had been used by one of the shop's winning pro riders, the infamous "R.S.", Randy Sargent, who could be seen ripping up on the local pros every weekend at our favorite tracks. PF Racing was the dominant local team at the time, and we wanted to be part of it. It was an exciting place to hang out after school (and sometimes during school) and I met several of my cool friends at that shop.

PF was owned by a guy named Jeff Vombaur, commonly referred to as "V", who was caught up in the passion of racing just like we were. In some ways "V" was ahead of the times in Utah, bringing a Southern California (mecca to the motocross community) vibe to the local scene. He always had the top local pro riders, on the trickest bikes, and travelled to the races in his PF Racing Van (also referred to as the "V"). His love of moto and his contributions to the fun factor at the local races sometimes surpassed his business acumen, the result being bankruptcy and some angry vendors, oh well. The memories of that great time, the crazy people, the rowdy trips and the bikes, races, magazines—the buzz of it all are what matters to us.

"V" is no longer with us, but the feeling remains that we experienced a special time in history with great friends—a little on the edge and loving it—some trick bikes and maybe a six-pack of beer as we invaded small Utah towns, living the life of the crazy motocross racer of the 1970s.


tim said...

i got a 1974 cr125 when i was 14 and it changed my life. i loved that bike. i do not know how a kid can love a machine but i did. i begged my parents for it for months. i was failing school and they thought that buying it might make me try harder. (it did not work.) i am now a CPA and have had my fill of school (maybe it did work.) after my beloved cr blew up my dad bought me a 76 rm125. that thing ripped. i have so many good memories of racing the cr and the rm and on to the maico 250 and 440's in the late 70's. what a way to grow up. awesome.

Dan O said...

I'm digging your blog.

My pal Todd, who later picked up the '78 Maico - earlier had sold me his '74 TM 125, so he could afford a '76 RM125.

I remember swapping bikes with him occasionally and was amazed how much nice the RM was over the TM.

Technology moved fast back then.