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| A758 TBP |
When I was a young teen, my world revolved around Star Wars. Lightsabers, spaceships, and distant galaxies filled my imagination — until the day my brother rolled up on a brand-new NS125F. Suddenly, the roar of a two-stroke engine was far more exciting than anything from a galaxy far, far away. Not long after, my dad started riding again, commuting to work on a Kawasaki Z250, and that sealed it — my fascination with motorbikes had truly begun.
At school, I even signed up for a “soft” subject called Road Traffic Studies. It sounded dull, but it turned out to be anything but. We learned to ride motorbikes, and the school had an incredible little fleet: a Suzuki FZ50, a Honda Camino, a Honda C50, and the absolute star of the show — a Honda MB50. That was the bike everyone wanted a go on.
As my 16th birthday approached — in December 1987 — I could hardly think of anything else. Soon, I’d be legally allowed to ride a 50cc moped, and I knew exactly which one I wanted: a Honda MBX50. It was the sleeker, sharper, and more grown-up successor to the MB50, and to me, it looked like a proper racing bike.
We eventually found one for sale in Eastleigh. My dad and I borrowed a truck and went to check it out. The moment I saw it, I was hooked. Registration A758 TBP — finished in black with a silver and red stripe — it looked perfect. The battery was flat, so we had to bump-start it, but it only had about 3,000 miles on the clock. I handed over around £275, and just like that, it was mine. We got it home, fitted a new battery, sorted the insurance, and before long I was flying down the road on my very first bike.
Being sixteen, I couldn’t help but make the bike more “sporty.” First, I removed the luggage rack and mirrors, then flipped the handlebars upside down for a more aggressive position. I also found a Lintek fiberglass belly pan at our local dealer, Rafferty Newman, which I think I paid about £20 for, plus some Honda NSR stickers for the fuel tank as a nod to my GP heroes.
One mod I frequently did was removing the exhaust baffle for a deeper sound—much to the annoyance of the local constabulary, which resulted in more than one document producer!
The MBX50 was a great little machine. Like all 50cc bikes, it was legally restricted to about 30 mph, though mine could stretch to 36 if I tucked in properly. Off the line, it wasn’t the fastest — a Vision 50 could still out-accelerate it — but I didn’t care. I even fitted a slightly larger front sprocket to squeeze out a bit more top speed, hitting a proud 40 mph on the clock. When you’re 16, that extra 4 mph feels like pure freedom.
And that’s exactly what the MBX gave me — freedom. Real, tangible freedom. It wasn’t just about getting from A to B; it was the feeling of being part of something bigger. My friends and I formed a little gang of riders, a swarm of buzzing 50s tearing through the suburbs. There must have been fifteen of us sometimes, all in a line, engines singing in unison. It was chaotic, noisy, and absolutely brilliant.
Those rides were pure magic — cold air in your face, two-stroke smoke in the air, and the sense that the world was suddenly a lot bigger than it used to be.
As my 17th birthday loomed, I only had one thing on my mind: trading up to the mighty MBX80.
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| 16year olds modifications, rack and mirrors delete, drop bars and belly pan! |
According to the DVLA the last log book change was 31st October 1996 and it went un-taxed on 17th June 1997, if its in the back of your garage or in your shed gathering dust and rust please contact me I would love to get it back!
