Just like Doohan’s
Ride a 500cc GP bike on the road? Who do you think you are? Except it turns out this NSR500 replica could just be the finest road-going two-stroke… ever
By Jim Moore Photography Jason Critchell
The late 1990s were arguably the pinnacle of Grand Prix racing’s battle between man and machine. A time of savage powerbands, ultra-responsive chassis and zero traction control, these were peak two-stroke – and arguably peak race bike. Ferociously competitive and staggeringly talented riders wrestling razor-sharp, unforgiving 500cc bikes beyond their limits – often with painful consequences – created a spectacle so colourful it still resonates today.
So, imagine experiencing the thrill, aggression and fizzing intensity of a pukka two-stroke 500 on the road. It’s a dream many of us have entertained. For most it remains just that, a dream. But for a few like Jamie Seneviratne, it’s very much a reality.
Regular viewers may remember Jamie and his ‘NSR500’ from Bike’s December 2023 issue. We got exclusive access to drool over his HRC replica during the final stages of its build by York-based 2Moto. Jamie wanted a bike as close to Mick Doohan’s mid-’90s factory NSR500 as possible and Felix Hirzel, seasoned chassis engineer and the brains behind 2Moto, designed and built it from the ground up.
Jamie’s ‘NSR’ is a prototype, just like Doohan’s. So, although complete for our previous encounter, it’s taken months of tweaking and refinement to get ride-ready. Today, that’s what we intend to do.
I meet Jamie and Felix at an overcast Cadwell Park. As we pull up next to them in the paddock the pair are making final adjustments to the NSR. Jamie always intended his 500 to be road legal, so we’re not going on track. Instead the fast, flowing A and B-roads around Cadwell and Louth will be our playground for the day.
Although road legal, the word ‘barely’ should prefix that notion. While it’s daytime MoT compliant, there are no lights, no indicators, no mirrors and no key. Hell, there’s not even a kick-start. Firing this beast into life is a job for starting rollers, especially from cold, but Jamie assures me it will bump once warm. He did say he wanted it as close to Mick’s as possible…
Nerves build as Felix warms the stage-three tuned Suzuki RG500 square-four engine with rhythmic bursts of throttle – each blip incites a vicious crackle and a puff of sweet, white fumes from the four carbon silencers. Jamie talks me through what I need to know: ‘It’s a race pattern ’box – down for up. There’s no rear brake pedal – it’s a thumb lever under the left ’bar. Oh, and you’ll need to thrash it. It doesn’t like slow, it gets choked up.’ Roger that.
Turning left out of Cadwell onto the A153, I immediately feel like a magnet for every traffic cop in the county. The only indication that I haven’t taken to His Majesty’s highway on a full-on race tool is the numberplate tucked under the top spannies. And the lack of mirrors is already making me nervous. I need a few miles to familiarise myself with my surroundings and get used to the feel before letting it off the leash.
I was expecting torturous ergonomics; after all the chassis apes the dimensions of a pukka ROC Yamaha GP bike, the tank is an exact copy from Doohan’s ’93 bike, and Felix didn’t build this thing for touring. But it’s no more extreme than any current superbike, and there’s room aplenty to shuffle back and forth along the seat.
Getting comfy isn’t an issue.
Holding on may be, though. Foremost in my mind are the numbers this thing makes: 130bhp at the wheel. Not much by today’s standards, but that’s a genuine 260bhp per litre – 51bhp more than a BMW M1000RR. And there’s no traction control, riding modes or anti-wheelie to tame delivery. Only my right wrist can do that. Indeed, the only electronic aid on offer is a quickshifter for the close-ratio Nova gearbox. Oh, and Felix’s ingenious electric chokes.
Power is only half of the story. The 130bhp available to my right hand propels a mere 122kg; that’s dry weight minus a battery. Even juiced it’s barely more than 130kg. Aprilia’s RS125 tips the scales at 126kg… So, we’re talking a huge amount of unfiltered power coupled with the delicate mass of a learner bike. A match made in heaven, right?
As I wind on a full helping of gas for the first time the answer is an unequivocal ‘hell, yeah’. The tacho needle races from 8000rpm to the 11,500rpm redline in the blink of an eye. Third, fourth and fifth gears are selected in rapid succession, my foot prodding the gear lever each time the shift light flashes in my peripheral vision.
Up ahead is a glorious stretch snaking downhill in a fast left-right before morphing into a double-lipped incline that then arcs right onto a long undulating straight. I’d expected the NSR to be twitchy, even slappy over such challenging topography, but instead it changes direction with the lightest tweak in pressure through the ’pegs, all the time holding a stoic groove that encourages more throttle.
It’s a complete assault of the senses, but in the best way possible. Having shifted back to third for the flip-flop and incline, we’re now aimed at the straight. Full gas again and the NSR lofts its front wheel over every slight rise – staying airborne an inch or so above the tarmac between two of the crests. All the while I’m banging in gears again – fourth, fifth, sixth – chest on the tank and head bobbing about just above the screen as we make for the end of the straight in a screaming 10,000rpm-plus wail.
The performance potential – both engine and chassis – is so large and intense that it’s a struggle to take it all in. What’s surprised me most so far, however, is not the ferocity and sheer intensity of acceleration, the lightness of input required to turn, or even the quality of damping as this lightweight missile skims over the road surface at blistering speed. It’s just how beautifully it rides.
Forget knife-edged powerbands, there’s an abundance of potent drive throughout the rev range. Things get really busy above 8000rpm, but Felix has tweaked all four Mikuni TMX53s to fuel so crisply and efficiently that this Honda wannabe is just as happy burbling through town as it is baring its considerable teeth on open tarmac. Journos lucky enough to have ridden Doohan’s bikes back in the day said they were docile enough low down to ride to the shops yet staggeringly potent at full chat. Jamie’s bike mirrors that ability.
On quieter roads away from town and traffic I get the chance to properly hustle the 500 through tight S-bends and 90-degree turns. The potential of the chassis is way beyond anything I can even begin to scratch on the road, but it’d murder a contemporary superbike in corners, so rapid and effortless is its change of direction.
Corner exits bring an undeniable urge to haunch over the front end, Doohan style, to keep the front wheel from launching skyward. Soon I’m climbing all over the thing, lost in a 500GP fantasy, blipping the throttle on down changes and teasing the rear thumb brake mid-turn.
Oh, and those front brakes. Holy moly. Any concerns I harboured about ceramic brakes not working on the road were brushed aside the first time I pulled the lever. An explosion of feel, feedback and astonishing power through a one-finger touch. ABS? Pah, who needs that? Smearing the front Pirelli Diablo Supercorsa into the tarmac is all part of the experience.
In building this, the ultimate race replica, Jamie and Felix have unintentionally created the perfect sportsbike, or at least in part. Ignore the lack of lights, sidestand (Jamie has to carry that with him) and rampant thirst for premix – this thing handles, turns, brakes, and excites in a way even exotica like BMW’s M1000RR fails to touch. If Doohan’s HRC Honda was the ultimate 500 GP bike, then Jamie’s tribute is easily the best road-going two-stroke ever built. We’re sure even Mighty Mick himself would approve.
