Fake and imitation. Still fun

I have a very young motorcycle, one from 2017. A MashThat's a Chinese takeout guy in a French suit. The 125cc was broken down and on consignment at Roadrunner in Velp. It had 6 km on the odometer and had been living in the back of a camper. I happened to be looking for a place to pick up cigars and bought the Mash for the famous "little."

The eighth-liter superbike looked something like a Honda SS50 moped XLThe block was a Chinese clone of Suzuki's GN 125 blockThe failure to start was due to a faulty, shoddy Jiffy switch. Remove the switch, connect the wires, and start it. And go.

Unlike other Chinese retro bikes with typically British-sounding brand names, the Mash has dimensions that, at 1,86 m tall, I'm perfectly comfortable. A comfortable seat, pleasant ergonomics, and a starter motor: perfect!

Grocery shopping with the Mash made it pay for itself. A backpack holds far less groceries than a sidecar. Meanwhile, the comments poured in, all from older men and the occasional young woman:
“Wow, that's an oldie!”, “That's been beautifully restored!”, “Is that a Norton?”, “Do you realize you're dressed irresponsibly?”, “Those classic Hondas are nice; I had one of those too!”

When I adopted the Mash, he was apparently in the Black-version. It had an LED strip as a taillight, and the thing did about 80 km/h on the odometer. That didn't seem very fast for a 125 cc.

The standard "all black" was upgraded with aluminum spray paint from Action. The tank also received freehand makeup and some tape. I thought it improved the Mash immensely. It now looked almost classic.

The simple Delphi injection system did its job suboptimally and was not adjustable. That's why I bought an Ali replica carburetor for 50 euros. Suzuki GN125 to the block. For reasons of space, a different air filter was installed behind it. That was – after removing everything that had to do with the electronics – a matter of plug & playRemoving the fuel pump and other electrical components did result in an error message in the instrument lights, but I never really paid attention to that anyway. The fuel tap also fell apart in that struggle.

The recently installed O-ring chain was found to generate a great deal of internal friction. Upon inspection, it was found to be internally rusty. A MZ 250 chain I scored one from fellow villager Gerrit Kranenberg, who has tons of NOS parts. With a carburetor and a conventional roller chain, the Mash ran 100 km/h at the time. The headlight unit turned out to be made entirely of plastic. Luckily, I still had a Honda unit from the 1970s. It gave off less light, but looked much better. Oh yeah: that weird LED thing at the back has been replaced with a NOS one. Hella unit, also from Gerrit.

Below the line

I was rather hesitantly looking for something light to eat at home. The Mash had a reassuringly classic feel and was inexpensive.

Because the Chinese are very much in the off-the-shelf world and even make replicas of reference parts, the online supply of parts is enormous. Beware, though: even the cheapest suppliers can deliver incredibly poor quality parts.

For people who think strictly locally, there are a few good addresses in the Netherlands, where Mashpoint scores on emotion and where The Four-Stroke Shop has a lot of stuff for all kinds of Chinese lightweights (also suitable for classic Japanese cars).

Now, a few years later, the Mash does about 3000 km per year within a 30-kilometer radius. The odometer now shows five digits. In that time, only the start button has broken.

The thing gets attention, but no love, and it thrives on it. In the garage, the Mash fills the last gap nicely. But unlike the other resident Guzzis, a few days outside in the pouring rain doesn't bother it. While my 1967 V7 already gets electrically nervous when it is cloudy in a village further away.

Conclusion: The Mash isn't old; it's not and won't become a classic. It's just getting older. But I use it for everything and don't feel like a joker. And that I sometimes get overtaken on the right by an eight-year-old on a fat bike, talking on his phone? Who cares!