Every rider has that one bike they’ll never quite get out of their system. The bike that helped start it all. The one that still pops into your head whenever somebody asks about your favourite motorcycle.

For me, it was a 1990 Suzuki RG125. It wasn’t my first bike, that was a Kawasaki AR50, but the Suzuki was the first bike that I could really get out and ride further distances.

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Mine wasn’t one of the more common colour schemes either. It was finished in a striking red livery that stood out wherever I parked it. Looking back, the bike always looked fantastic amongst my friends on their TZR’s, NSR and older RD 125’s. Sadly, the same can’t be said for some of the clothes I wore while riding it back in the early 1990’s.

Back then, Suzuki had a knack for making even their smaller capacity bikes look like they belonged on a race circuit. The RG125 borrowed plenty of styling inspiration from the larger race-replica Suzuki’s of the period, especially the RGV250. Sharp fairings, aggressive lines and a proper sporting stance made it feel like a miniature Grand Prix machine. Plus it was a nod to the daddy of the RG’s, the RG500.

As a teenager, that was all I needed.

The funny thing is that while the RG looked quick, mine was completely standard. Most of my mates couldn’t leave their bikes alone. There were aftermarket exhausts fitted every other weekend, carburettors being adjusted in sheds, and endless conversations about gaining another mile per hour on the top end.

I never joined in.

The truth was that I was terrified of getting stopped by the police and discovering I’d turned my bike into something that wasn’t quite road legal. The thought of explaining that to my parents was enough to keep my toolbox firmly shut.

While some of the modified bikes in our group were undoubtedly faster, they also seemed to spend a fair amount of time broken down at the side of the road. My little Suzuki just kept going, it started when I asked it to, got me where I wanted to go and rarely caused any drama. It was a good job too, as it was my only means of transport at the time.

Of course, when I think back now, it’s not really about performance figures or top speed when you are riding a learner legal 125cc bike.

It’s the memories.

The crisp crackle of the engine warming up on a cool morning. The distinctive smell of the two-stroke oil that lingered on your jacket after a ride. The excitement of meeting friends with no particular destination in mind and an entire afternoon to waste on country roads.

Back then, a ride out was all that mattered.

There were no responsibilities, no schedules and no real worries beyond whether there was enough petrol in the tank to keep going for another hour.

That’s what the RG125 represents for me.

A simpler time.

Unfortunately, nostalgia doesn’t improve everything.

Hidden away somewhere was this old photograph of me sitting proudly on that beautiful red Suzuki. My eyes go straight past the bike and lock onto the pair of ripped jeans I’m wearing.

At the time, I probably thought I looked brilliant. Rest assured I did not!

The bike has aged remarkably well in my memory. The jeans most certainly have not.

Still, fashion mistakes are easy enough to laugh about. Selling the bike was probably the bigger mistake.

If I had the chance to throw a leg over that little red RG125 again, I’d do it without hesitation.

The jeans, however, can stay firmly in the past.