HONDA CB125F v KTM 125 Duke v KYMCO CK1 125 - MOTOR GERR

Three abreast on the start line of the London Marathon and the tension is building, anticipation for the race ahead nibbling at the edges of my nerves, I can almost hear my heartbeat tapping out its rhythm on my eardrums. Everything snaps into focus at the sound of the starter’s klaxon, and a glance at my fellow competitors reveals the same steely determination to go the distance, to cross the finish line first. But this isn’t the marathon, and that klaxon was just an irate Londoner leaning on his horn, royally displeased at our decision to line up three 125cc commuters across a Greenwich road in the middle of rush-hour.

This is not a race. Well, not officially, but the aim is to try and beat the fastest time from last week’s marathon on this globally diverse trio of 125s, representing Austria (via India), Japan (via China), and Taiwan (via the local docks). The only stipulation is we must ride as we normally would — no silly speeding, elbow bashing or blocking manoeuvres allowed.

As the revs build and spindly clutch levers slip from our fingers, we’re suddenly away, mingling with the endless ebb and flow of London’s streets. I get the holeshot on the Honda, leading only half the pack as a Kymco-mounted Steve disappears into the background like he’s forgotten where second gear is. As we reconvene at the first of what will be many red lights, it turns out that the gearbox really was the problem: “It won’t go in to second, it just keeps hitting neutral!” shouts Steve over the cacophony of diesel cabs that surround us like ants to a dropped Jelly Bean.

The lights change and we’re away again, minus a floundering Kymco, which continues to stalk us a junction or two behind, never quite keeping in the same cycle of traffic light GPs. Greenwich is behind us now as we carve through the early rush-hour traffic, and the realisation dawns that I’m not really thinking about the bike. Riders of bigger beasts might scoff at a quarter of a litre dragging them through the melee, but the ease of use, the natural speed at which you feel instantly at home, makes these urban tigers utterly effortless. This familiarity means comfort and confidence abound, and that your eye is on the traffic and kamikaze pedestrians, not the switchgear.

A fast-changing set of lights results in a bit of exuberant braking as commuters pile into the street, uncaring that the approaching traffic hasn’t stopped yet. The CB’s rear wheel locks under my size elevens — there’s no ABS on the budget Honda — and suddenly the prospect of performing crowd pleasing skids at every opportunity has entered the game. The pricey KTM is the only ABS-equipped bike here, and at £1500 more than the Honda you’d expect it to have something extra.

Before we can properly settle into our stride we’re thrown our first curve ball — a closed road due to the discovery of an unexploded World War II bomb. Steve pleads with us to let him ride the Kymco into it, but we’ve got a marathon to finish. The Honda and Kymco spoil us with acres of steering lock, making child’s play of the U-turn, but Andy struggles to deal with the KTM’s limited lock in our narrow side-street about-face.

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