This isn't easy. I've just re-read Thompson's drooling, euphoric test of last year's RGV 250L and I'm troubled. Yesterday, you see, I was riding the SP version of the heavily revised '91 RGV and it makes the old version look like a cat turd. It has a banana swinger. It has twin spannies exiting on the right. It has upside-down forks, a curvy, ally rad and kosher fully floating discs. In fact it has everything you ever dreamt of finding in your Christmas stocking that wasn't pink and fleshy. And it was so beautiful, I wanted to nob it.

But that was yesterday. Now I've got to make sense of my own drooling, euphoric notes and somehow eulogise the fantasy of this better-than-the '91 RGV; to dredge up wonderful new superlatives and put into perspective the quantum leap this very special new baby Suzi is over the old. And it isn't easy.

What it is, for me at any rate, is the most sublime piece of machinery yet to hit the road. I spent the first 20 minutes looking at it-and just looking at it - long before I had even blipped the throttle. And even that was exciting. Honest. I never really liked the look of last year's RGV and thought Tim's black and green KR-1S, by comparison, was delish. This makes the Kawa look three years old.

The stubby, ultra-rearset pegs, the welded in (rather than tacked on) paddock stand mounts and steering damper lug; the vented side bulges on the seat which mimic Schwantzy's bike but cover, in this instance, the oil and coolant tanks, and the delicate, tiny, but useful mirrors. There's so much that's different, that's new, that's state-of-the-art. And it's all in either the velvet sheen of aluminium, the gloss of Suzuki racing blue and white, or mean and purposeful matt black.

And it's the matt black (rather than white) plate on the seat hump that gives this RGV away as the SP. As you've probably guessed it stands for Sports Production. Yes, another of those Jap imports and, sadly, so fresh out of the container it was still in Japanese restricted 45 horse trim which rather killed off any performance appraisal. Less predictable, though, are the differences that 'SP' involves: a close ratio cassette gearbox and a dry clutch with all the intoxicating rattle and smell that brings.

Tim was standing a quarter of a mile away while we were doing the road action shots back and forth, back and forth around the same corner. When I finally came in to warm up and let it's sizzling clutch cool off, the RGV's chimes and pungent scent were still wafting through the valley and it seemed more like the Cadwell paddock on an April morning than North Wales on a grey November afternoon. Er, boyo. Nothing like a road bike at all, but a whole bundle like a parp-parp, kerching-a ching open class racing stink wheel.

Which really is what it is, 'SP' or not. On paper the RGV has all the makings of knocking the balance of proddie racing power back in it's favour. Power is now up to a claimed 61bhp at 11,000rpm against the KR-1S's 59 (although we'd need a side on test of both UK-spec versions to confirm the truth) and, more importantly off track, mid-range has been broadened by a deft re-working of the electronically-controlled carburation and MDIS digital ignition monitoring system. This side of the sales blurb that translates into a smooth building power curve from around six grand pretty much all the way to the redline at 12 with none of the stepped delivery of before.

More impressive still is the chassis. The only real gripe I had of last year's RGV ('criticism' is way too strong a word), especially on the track when put alongside the KR-1S, concerned stability - particularly when hard on the brakes. Slow-ish steering geometry combined with a short wheelbase made it slightly flappy braking into turns but still a bit of a wrench when throwing it in. Nine times out of ten, or on the road, it was unnoticeable and more than Ok for most mortals. But in the height of proddie war nest to the stable, light steering KR-1S, it was as obvious as Timmy Mallett at a Quaker prayer meeting.

That's all changed: rake has been sharpened to quicken the steering while the banana (sorry- CAL-Box - for Crescent Aluminium) swinger compensates for the 4mm shorter trail and adds a further half centimetre on top of that. In short, it's, um, not so short any more. Add that to the more radical - still riding position, those impossible rigid forks, a beefed-up frame, a broader, racier seat and the wider 150-section rubber the new 17-inch wheel wears, and you've got that necessary smidgen of extra stability.

Oh, and the steering's quicker (but still more neutral than the finickety KR-1S) to boot... or wrench, or lob or whatever any racer boy wants. All thats fine and dandy, though it's probably worth bearing in mind the extra 20lbs in weight this lot brings.

I could pontificate too about the the new preload adjustable-only upside-down forks and the 74,684-way twiddleable rear shock, but instead the phrase 'pretty damn good, actually' springs to mind, so that'll do. Seriously though, if firm but sensitive is your bag, you won't find anything to quibble about this side of the Bombhole, and probably not even then.

Yes, it really is that good, so good the new RGV seems to know it's good. Wonderful in fact...on the track. And, to most that, and the looks that go with it, are enough. It's what the RGV is all about. But it's also the only place to really savour it, and where I suspect most are headed. ('specially seeing as the KR-1S is unchanged next year.)

Otherwise, however, it's useless. On anything less than one idyllic, 50-mile country blast on a Sunday afternoon in June, it's wasted, jewellery, something to wear, show off, strut around with and a bit of a wanker's bike. It's never something to merely travel on. But it's also so tiny that round town I felt like Bernard Manning on a moped. So tiny that when I got into a racer crouch, the velcro for my knee sliders caught up in the elasticated armpit panels, my wrists, low and taking most of my weight, quickly ached, my legs cramped and around town, I was sorely tempted to get off and walk.

It's the ultimate racer replica and everything good or bad that goes with it. And the SP, at £300 more than standard, is worth it just for the pose though (because of the very tall first gear and close box) more impractical still. In all, it confirms what everyone's been saying about "where's this racer replica fetish all going to end?" Personally, I hope it's here. The 'SP' is wonderful and I want one and I think everyone should ride one just once to know how 'good' can be. But do I want one on the road, to clean, to service and to worry about? No thanks.