.....two big downdraught CV carbs..2mm 90° Vee delivers 20kW at a heady 10000rpm, with maximum torque, a less impressive 20.5Nm, only 2000 revs earlier. All the action is in the upper half of the rev-range – and being a boulevard bolide, the Venox doesn't have a rev-counter. You'll understand my frustration.

Throw caution (and mechanical sympathy!) to the wind, rev its nuts off and - even lumbered with 178kg of chrome and decorative covers - the little buzz-bomb will deliver remarkable thrust up to a genuine 139km/h.

That's with a big rider sitting upright, accompanied by an angry rasp from the twin shorty pipes and high-frequency vibration from almost everywhere.

This is no tractor motor; it's liquid cooled, with twin overhead cams and two big downdraught CV carbs in the vee of the cylinders. There's a deep narrow sump to minimise oil surge under hard braking and cornering, the alternator is mounted on a central jack-shaft a la Ducati Pantah to keep the engine compact and the water-pump is low down on the left, out of harm's wayThe Springer-style headlight is mounted high 'n handsome on cast alloy brackets..

It's a sophisticated and well-executed piece of engineering, one of which Kymco, Taiwan's largest scootermaker, can rightly be proud.

The gearbox is less successful, unfortunately; just as on the 125cc Stryker, the company's successful schoolboy all-rounder, the shift mechanism is rough and notchy. Upshifts are acceptable; in fact other than for the first-second move, I dispensed with the clutch and was soon getting seamless changes. Downshifts, on the other hand, are slow, noisy and crunchy; the box refuses to shift down while at a standstill and is sometimes reluctant even when still slowly moving.

Do all your down-changes and find neutral while you still have the revs up; otherwise you may have to punish the clutch and take off in second as I did once or twice. Luckily the clutch, which takes up a little suddenly, close to the handlebar, seems able to deal with any abuse this hot little motor can dish out. It remains the same, hot or cold, refusing to slip or judder, and would probably give good results on the drag strip.

Being water-cooled, the motor doesn't have any fins on the cylinders, but Harleys do, so the makers have grafted on little "faux fin" cover plates on each side, together with beautifully polished and chromed clutch and alternator covers for the custom look.

This sprinter in spangles is solidly mounted in a very conventional twin-downtube chassis welded up from round tubes and steel pressings, sprayed the same deep metallic red as the body. It sports sharply raked-out forks and twin shrouded shocks on a rectangular steel swing-arm that looks like it came off a 1970s-vintage Harley of the dreadful AMF era.

There are no side covers as such, but the centre section of the frame around the rear engine mounts and swing-arm pivot is covered on each side by a body-coloured steel pressing. The radiator is mounted high up on the front down-tubes, keeping it well out of harm's way.

The suspension is also entirely conventional; the 35mm forks have no adjustments whatsoever but, although a little harsh on initial travel, coped well right up to the bike's maximum speed. The rear suspension travel is limited by the fashionable "low rider" geometry of the chassis, a failing shared by most custom machines. Its action is harsh as a result, but it refuses to bottom out even with a passenger and the bike is remarkably stable even flat out on long sweeping bends, with no wallowing or other long-wheelbase misbehaviour.

Nevertheless, its low centre of effort and relatively light weight make it pleasantly "chuckable" – the Venox will dive into corners with more verve than I'm used to on a boulevarde bolide and the immense leverage afforded by the wide bars makes quick changes of direction easy. Senior test rider Jenni Peters labeled it the best-handling cruiser she's tested.

The styling cues have been picked up from a variety of Milwaukee iron, with a 15" Fat-boy style solid rear rim matched to a five-spoke cast front wheel, a 175mm rear drum brake and a single 285mm front disc. Braking is taken care of by a twin-piston floating caliper – once again, painfully conventional – but operated by a braided stainless-steel hose, the first I have ever seen on a cruiser.

The direct feedback afforded by the inflexible tubing gives the front stopper unusual bite and power with good feel for what's happening where rubber meets road, as well as inducing impressive nose-dive on the long front forks while hauling the bike down with considerable authority.

The body parts swoop smoothly through from the tear-drop fuel tank (14 litres, Cyril – enough for a week's commuting) through the under-seat panels to the tucked-in rear mudguard and tail light. The look is a little spoiled, however, by the number of chromed excrescences festooned about the painted parts, including filler panels below the tank, upper shock mount covers and weird decorative flashes along the rear mudguard.

These are held on by unusually tall acorn nuts which double as bungee hooks; a clever practical touch, but they can catch on unwary legs, so warn your pillion.

The twin shorty exhausts jut out at a steep angle on the right side of the bike; to some they look like an afterthought but I think they look pretty jaunty and surprisingly, I couldn't get them to touch down.

The Springer-style headlight is mounted high 'n handsome on cast alloy brackets, scoring top marks for both style and content; it not only looks good but works well throwing a powerful and well-defined beam.

The instrument panel, however, gets a poor report. There's a speedo with odo and tripmeter and four warning lights but mounted far away from line of sight on top of the tank in a chromed plastic nacelle, its face finished in purple and orange – honest.

The handlebars are low, the seat is very low (680mm off the deck!) and the footpegs are well forward, giving a comfortable and relaxed seating position. The rear brake, however, is operated via a long linkage with a bell-crank in the middle, partially hidden under the frame cover. It's unnecessarily complex; a standard clutch cable would have worked just as well and been more direct as well as less obtrusive.

And that sums up this bike; it contradicts itself in many ways but adds up to a user-friendly, willing little buzzbomb. It has surefooted handling and the motor is a honey. I can't wait to see it installed in a race-replica frame – it could be a miniature 748, a real pocket rocket.


Test bike from Mototech, Cape Town