Bomdila on the Peugeot PM-01: A Clawed Cub in the Clouds

There’s something about Bomdila that draws in motorcyclists like moths to flame. The crisp mountain air, the pine-lined serpentines, and the quiet drama of Arunachal Pradesh’s high-altitude passes, this place turns even the most sensible rides into emotional escapades. It was against this backdrop that I saddled up on the new Peugeot PM-01, the 125cc cub meant to carry the weight of a proud legacy that stretches back 125 years. A light roadster, built in China, rooted in France, and riding under German stewardship via Mutares, it sounded like a strange cocktail of ambition. And yet, as I thumbed the starter and leaned into the first tight corner past Dirang, the little Peugeot had already begun to dig its claws into my attention.

Design with Clear Edges

You can tell a lot about a bike by how people react to it at chai stalls. The PM-01, with its striking headlight mask and sharply sculpted lines, turned heads even before I opened the throttle. Its face carries the DNA of Peugeot’s automotive design language, three aggressive LED stripes resembling lion claws for the DRLs, a motif repeated at the tail. It’s distinct, if not divisive. I heard one guy call it “Iron Man’s nephew,” which honestly felt fair. The paint and panel fit are commendable, even under the harsh scrutiny of mountain sunlight. The 41mm upside-down fork up front gives it some visual heft, but the rear’s skinny steel swingarm seems a bit half-hearted. Nonetheless, the PM-01’s silhouette punches above its 125cc weight class, especially in a place like Bomdila where the air is thin, but style matters. The ergonomics follow classic roadster cues: an upright riding posture, relaxed knees, and a slightly backward-swept wide handlebar that gives you an eagle’s grasp on those hairpins. At 810mm seat height, even my 5’9″ frame found both comfort and control on this 152-kg package. The 17-inch Metzeler Sportec M5 Interacts stuck to the tarmac like marmalade to toast, making switchbacks a delightful exercise in confidence.

Toothless Stoppers

Here’s where the lion cub bares its gums rather than its teeth. The front brake setup,280mm disc with a four-piston caliper, looks the part but feels dulled in execution. I had to squeeze harder than expected when descending from Mandala Pass, and while the 240mm rear disc helped settle the bike, there was a noticeable lack of bite. For most relaxed riding, especially in the city or on gentle slopes, it’s serviceable. But up in the mountains, where braking finesse becomes a survival trait, the PM-01 left me wanting more aggression. This is a shame because the rest of the chassis deserves more dynamic braking to match its nimble character. I suspect this decision may have stemmed from cost-cutting or the need to tune for less aggressive riders. Either way, the stoppers feel more decorative than decisive. Not a deal-breaker, but certainly not befitting the drama of its design.

Real Thrust Only at 5,000 RPM

Now, I’ll admit: I wasn’t expecting fireworks from a 125cc motor. But the PM-01 is less about power and more about character. The liquid-cooled, square-bore single cylinder (54 x 54.4 mm) produces 14 hp at 9,500 rpm and 11 Nm of torque at 7,500 rpm. That may not sound like much, but the engine is smooth, the gearbox crisp, and the vibes surprisingly subdued for a small single. At lower RPMs, it’s docile, ideal for slow climbs and tight village crossings. But the moment you wring it past 5,000 rpm, something clicks. The engine wakes up, the induction note deepens slightly, and you feel the pull, not ferocious, but earnest. Between 7,000 and 9,000 rpm, it’s genuinely fun. I chased altitude with the throttle pinned, the little motor happily buzzing under me, topping out at an indicated 113 km/h on a flat stretch near Rupa (though Peugeot claims a more modest real-world top speed of 99 km/h). What makes it endearing is how much it encourages you to work it. You have to shift, play the revs, and stay engaged. It’s not a bike for lazy riders, but it rewards active ones. The six-speed gearbox is butter-smooth, and clutch action is light, perfect for novice and experienced riders alike. Fuel economy was an unexpected delight. Across nearly 500 km of mixed terrain, including some serious climbing, the bike averaged around 2.3 liters/100 km. With a 12-liter tank, that’s real touring range for a small engine. Not bad for a machine that cost just €4,199.

The Cockpit is a Small Highlight

Here’s where the PM-01 surprises again. The 5-inch color TFT display is crisp, modern, and well-organized. The lion logo roars to life with a red or blue background when you key on, and all essential info is legible even in bright sunlight. Operating the display while riding is intuitive, thanks to a small switch cluster on the left bar, Peugeot deserves praise here for simplicity. There’s Bluetooth connectivity, allowing phone pairing and basic navigation prompts, useful if you’re not the map-in-pocket kind. But my favorite detail? The USB charging port cleverly hidden in the handlebar clamp. It’s such a thoughtful addition, especially for those who use their phones for navigation in remote places like this. It’s small details like these that make you forget the PM-01’s budget origins and remind you that someone, somewhere, actually cared during its design.

Technical Specification                             

Conclusion

The Peugeot PM-01 is not a game-changer. It doesn’t redefine the 125cc category, nor does it blow away its Japanese or Austrian rivals in raw performance. But what it does, and does well, is inject soul into small-capacity motorcycling. In an era where beginner bikes are either bland commuters or overpriced lifestyle objects, the PM-01 is refreshing. It feels like a real motorcycle, not a diluted placeholder. It handles with genuine zest, looks distinct, sips fuel like a monk, and is loaded with small, clever touches that show design intent. Yes, the brakes could be sharper. Yes, it’s made in China. And yes, it carries the heavy marketing baggage of a “125th anniversary model” that feels more commemorative than transformative. But up there in Bomdila, with the wind picking up and the clouds drifting just above the road, none of that mattered. The PM-01 danced through the corners with playful precision, growled politely at altitude, and reminded me why small bikes still matter, because they ask for more of you, and give just enough back. That’s worth clawing onto.