Italjet 50 Microbike - custom mini bike

Designed by Kenton Breeze - owned and run by Tim Pestridge

Introduction

I bought the Italjet Pakaway from a friend back in early 1993 from the back of his lock-up in Baginton, Warwickshire, where the little Italjet had sat languishing for months in the darkness, dismantled in three different cardboard boxes.

This might sound terribly sad, but it was a case of love at first sight.

Peering into one of the torn boxes in the semi-light, it took only a few glimpses of the bikes chunky-cheeky little tires and miniature chrome handlebars for me to determine this little bike and I would strike a relationship that would run and run.
Kenton (that was the owners name) was a busy man, and had another garage full of bikes including a GPz900 which he once let me ride back from Stratford on Avon. Hence it was not a difficult decision to let me buy the bike in it's half-finished state for £25.

The idea behind the bike was a joint one between Kenton and a friend, who had decided to cut-down the little foldaway bike and weld it up in a permanently reduced state. The result, although bearing a strong resemblance to an Airfix kit with several bits missing and no instructions was complete enough for me to resume the building of the bike in my garage, sourcing missing parts from dusty shelves in motorbike dealers across the Midlands.

After some months the whole thing was coming together nicely (see picture), and after giving the engine a good once over my father and I tentatively started her up. The tiny 50cc Moto-Morini engine was basic in the extreme, and required only a thimbleful of 2 stroke oil and petrol. It seemed to work, and although it took another few days of fiddling with carb settings and premix, we eventually had a tiny bike that would power an adult up and down the close at the back of our house for at least fifteen minutes before it would overheat.

I had the biggest grin on my face knowing I had succeeded in raising this bike from the back of a shed to a running vehicle. It was a fantastic feeling, which onlookers seemed to share too.

I didn't realise it at the time, but this little bike was set to delight the general public at large, raising eyebrows all around the Midlands and Devon, and eventually to gain respectable coverage in the national press. It was to become the only motorbike I've ever owned that could draw crowds of people no matter what it was parked next to. Ferrari? Everyone's seen one. Porsche? Yes, yes, all very well, but a road-legal 14-inch high motorbike in purple? That was something people seemed to deem worth a second look.

Famous for being small

After a struggle I managed to finish the bike completely, and FOB 771V regained an MOT, largely thanks to the MOT tester laughing so much he signed the certificate without complaint. I was over the moon. I rode and rode that little bike up and Leamington Spa high street, relishing the smiles and laughs, and wondering how on earth something this fun could be legal.

People would literally stop in their tracks, point, scream, laugh, grin or mutter to each other as I rode by looking like a gorilla on child's bicycle. Everyone did a double-take, and heads would swing round once, twice, three times to register what they had just seen. I know I looked like something out of the circus, but it was so much fun, so unlike ordinary life on the road where everyone blends in and keeps their eyes straight ahead for fear of upsetting someone's road rage that I found it irresistible to ride, and rode it whenever I had the opportunity.

Not long after it was completed, I was flagged down by roving reporter Jason Tilley from a local newspaper, who insisted on taking photos and a story on the spot. I agreed, and the result can be seen below.

And so it was that the bike's story made not only the front page of the Leamington Evening Telegraph in the August of 1993, but several other regional papers in Rugby and the Midlands. I was famous, in a 'there's the bloke with the small bike' way. Although this fame didn't pay immediately, what it did do is raise public interest in the area, and a local motorbike dealership approached me and inquired if I allow them to use it in their window display whilst I was on summer holiday. At this point the bike was painted in Hammerite, a stopgap measure which I had done due to lacking the patience necessary to wait for a proper spray-job.
We struck a deal, in which in return for the publicity they would gain from displaying the bike they agreed to send the bike to the famous 'Dream Machine' bike spay shop where I could have the bike sprayed in a colour of my choice. I went for Vance & Hines purple and yellow as seen on many racing Yamaha motorbikes, and was delighted with the results on my return.

Mixing it with the big boys

I was studying at Exeter Art College in Devon, and easily found room for the little Italjet in my shared student house in Exeter. It wasn't long before I was scooting around Exeter on it, and raising not only public interest and attention from my peers, but the Police showed an interest as well.
I was always well prepared to be pulled over, and naturally assumed it an inevitability when riding something so distinctively bizarre. I was given the blue's and two's treatment on the way back from college on afternoon by two traffic cops in a monstrous Vauxhall Carlton. They strolled over to me as I dismounted (stood-up) from the bike in the shadow of the huge police patrol car. They were clearly amused, and one in particular was laughing out loud. The conversation went something like; "We had to stop you just to have a look at yer bike, you looked like a gnome on a stick going up the road, we were laughing so much." I joined in laughing, always the best policy, and assured them I was a serious motorcyclist with a 750 Yamaha in the garage and so on, but they weren't interested. They just wanted to look at the bike. In fact, to my amazement, they didn't even check my documents. Would you believe to this day in all the miles I've done on it, not one policeman has asked to see my documents.

I bet they will now I've written that.

A week or two after the police stopped me, for a bit of fun I sent the picture of my bike to the local paper, the infamous Express & Echo. It was no surprise that they jumped at the chance of featuring the bike, and shot it straight onto the front page in colour. I was chuffed. On the day it hit the paper, my college faced a barrage of calls from the National newspapers, and another reporter was down at the college to interview me the same morning.

Questions were asked, measurements taken, and my pleadings for renumeration were ignored. Fame doesn't always lead to fortune it seemed. But it was to my surprise to find that that same story along with the photos he'd taken appeared all over the country, not to mention gaining an entire page in my regular motorcycle paper - Motorcycle News (see below.)

Other nationals included in their pages, including:

The Mirror
The People
The Daily Star
Today

...And several other minor local papers including the Western Daily Press. I was certainly pleased, and felt myself becoming quite the self-publicist. Sadly, despite the headline 'Guiness book of Records achiever', when it came down to the crunch a chap on a smaller mini-moto bike which he registered for the road on a Q-plate and rode around a roundabout a few times for Performance Bike magazine pipped me at the post. I bet he didn't use it on the road half as much as I did.

The longest trip I ever attempted was a butt-wrenching ride to Exmouth and back from Exeter whilst at college. Boy oh boy, did I get cramped up on that trip. Besides, I was scared stiff of running out of fuel; the tank is anything but large.

Prize Moment

I suspect one of my most memorable moments on my little microbike or baby-bike as we affectionately called it was a trip to Mallory Park race circuit. We simply picked the bike up and plopped it on the back seat, making sure you've got a bit of rag on the seat to catch any oil leaks (it is Italian you see.) At the lunch break the racing stopped, but to ensure the crowds on this sunny afternoon were kept entertained, the organisers invited anyone in the crowd with an Italian motorbike to come along a ride a few laps around the hallowed circuit. Dad and I looked at each other, and then dashed back to the car, removed the Italjet, kicked it into life and sped off to join the Ducatis and Moto Guzzis lining up for their chance to hit the tarmac.

As I pulled up at the back of the queue I must have looked like a cartoon character, as they all started roaring with laughter, and parted down the middle, encircling me and the little Italjet so the scrutineers wouldn't see me until it as too late. And so it was that the gates opened, and I moved forward onto Mallory Park's circuit with the roar of tens of Italian motorbikes around my ears. A proud moment for both me and the little Italian Italjet, which must have been as overjoyed as I was to be sharing the track with the cream of Italian machinery.

For a little 1970's moped designed to transport Italian housewives the mile into their local village for a baguette, this little bike has led quite a interesting life so far.

Long may it entertain!

Pictured here (left) seen at popular bikers hangout Stratford on Avon on a dry Sunday afternoon. No matter how big the opposition, the little Italjet always seemed to draw the stares.