If I asked you to guess the 70's four-cylinder bike I'm thinking of with 750 in its name, I can guarantee you'd say Honda CB750.
And you'd be wrong.
I'm thinking of something much more exotic. In fact, I'm thinking of something that cost almost twice as much when new than a CB750. It was an aristocrat's four-cylinder superbike, one dripping with racetrack engineering, pedigree and hardware.
I'm thinking of the MV Agusta 750S America.
The 750S America was an evolution of the stunning 750S, Count Agusta's race bike for the street. Except that it wasn't a race bike. Agusta was terrified of privateers buying the 750S, entering races and then losing, thus tarnishing the mighty MV Agusta name. To prevent this from happening, Agusta ordered the 787cc four to be neutered.
The cylinder head was filled with tiny valves, the engine was fed by tiny carbs, and the final drive was done via a shaft. Cheap rear shocks and a poor front drum brake were also added. What resulted was an overly expensive bike that would get beaten by the much-cheaper CB750 and absolutely slaughtered by the Kawasaki Z1.
To remedy this, MV went back to the shed and set out to give the 750S the performance it demanded.
First, the heavy front drum was replaced by twin discs. Next the engine was given a refresh. The tiny Dell'orto UB24 carbs were replaced by larger Dell'orto VHBs. Finally, the valves grew and so did the compression. What resulted was a bump in power from 66 hp to 75 hp and a 9,000 rpm redline. These changes allowed the 750 to finally reach its advertised 130 mph top speed. The shaft final drive and heavy weight remained but the bike had an overall more visceral feel to it.
Performance wasn't the only thing that was updated. To accentuate the new found power, MV gave the bike's styling a refresh. The rounded tank was replaced by a longer unit with more squared-off styling and large cutouts for the rider's knees. The classic bum-stop seat of the 750S was replaced with a square stop seat covered in brown suede. Nothing says 1970's chic like brown suede.
Over the next few years, the 750S America was treated to a number of changes. The spoked wheels were replaced by cast wheels and the silencers were redesigned. The four was eventually bored out to 837cc, which meant more power and more speed.
The MV 750 really came into its own at the hands of tuner Arturo Magni. Magni replaced the suspension with top-quality units and put the bike on a massive diet. The shaft drive was also tossed in favor of a chain. Magni's hands also found their way into the engine, which saw displacement rise to 861cc and power rise to 92 hp.
The plummeting weight and increasing power meant the 750 was getting closer to the street-legal race bike it should have been. Through continued evolution at the hands of the factory and tuning shops, the 750 was displacing 1,066cc and belting out 118 hp by the end of production in 1980.
So, then, it's hard to sum up the 750 and what makes it so special. It definitely was a uniquely Italian answer to the superbike question. At first glance, it seems to be a beautiful piece of Italian sculpture bolted to an industrial lump of sand cast aluminum. On paper, it was heavy, expensive and complex. In reality, it was heavy, expensive and complex. It was also a bit slow at first but that was quickly remedied.
So what is it? What is the MV 750?
I can tell you in one word: timeless.
The MV 750 is timeless in that it was totally exotic, totally different from every other motorcycle out there. It was very expensive and sold in minuscule numbers, quite in contrast to the cheap and hugely popular fours from Japan. And while the fours from Japan were raced, destroyed, ruined, chopped and thrown away, the MVs were kept and appreciated. These days, the fours that could run over the MV 750 are practically given away while the MV silently increases in value.
To sum it up, the MV 750 is as all great art is: a curious oddity when new and then a cherished piece when its time has passed.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Ducati Updates - Part Deux
Since I picked up my Ducati's cylinder head this weekend, I thought I'd share some pics of it with my non-existent readers.
Right; let's start the show:
As you can see, the head was cleaned and sandblasted. New guides, valves and seats were also fitted to the head. The spark plug hole was cleaned and Heli-coiled because only half of the old threads remained.
Here's the new guide on the exhaust side...
...And here is the new guide on the intake side.
Here you can see the other ends of the new guides and the new valve seats. They look fantastic.
Here's the newly-repaired spark plug hole.
Here are the new valves. The one on the left is the intake and it's 36mm while the one on the right is the exhaust and it's 33mm.
Here are the old valves and the old guides. The rockers were hitting the old valves on an angle, wiping out the guides.
The old valves were quite a bit longer than the new valves, as evidenced here:
And here:
The height differences were remedied with lash caps, which are little hardened caps that fit over the tops of the valves, making up the differences in height.
I think the head turned out wonderfully. I'm happy with the work and I'd like to give a big thank you to Dave at Dutchman Racing who did the work.
Right; let's start the show:
The old valves were quite a bit longer than the new valves, as evidenced here:
And here:
I think the head turned out wonderfully. I'm happy with the work and I'd like to give a big thank you to Dave at Dutchman Racing who did the work.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Ducati Updates
In the past few months, work on my old rusty Ducati has been few and far between. It's not that I've lost interest in it, I've just been riding my bikes that actually work.
But all has not been lost in that time. I've decided to make the bike look like a proper 1965 Ducati 350 should look. I have the complete bodywork for a 1966, with its squared-off tank, fenders and headlamp but it just wasn't right. The '65 350 Sebring shared its bodywork with the 160 Monza Junior and that was the only year the Sebring had the rounded tank. Being that it was a one-year-only deal, I think it would only be right to make it look correct. Besides, the 1966 bodywork is really ugly and the proper 1965 bodywork is much better-looking.
So that meant finding this bodywork. Scouring Ebay for weeks turned up nothing. Scouring other parts of the Internet also turned up nothing. Clearly, this was not going to be easy.
But then, by chance, the right tank popped up on Ebay. After an intense bidding war that resulted in me overpaying by quite a lot, the tank I needed was mine. It's not an actual Sebring tank but an older Monza Junior tank that has black painted over chrome. The chrome stripes were not only incorrectly lined up (famous Italian build quality) but were quite rusty. Thankfully, the rust was only on the surface and was gone after an hour or so of rubbing with aluminum foil and steel wool.
The rest of the tank is in good shape, too. The inside is very clean and there only minor imperfections on the outside. The gas cap is also in good condition, thereby saving me money.
I think it was a good purchase but it leaves with a decision to make. See, I like the chrome, even if it's dull and slightly pitted. Since the bike will never be a concourse restoration, I'd like to leave the tank as it sits, making the bike look like a survivor instead of a 100-point resto. But the other half of me wants to paint it and make it look new. Fortunately, I have a million other decisions to make regarding the bike so paint choice isn't pressing at the moment.
Also new in the past few months is a bunch of stuff for the cylinder head. After I took it apart, I got a good look at the valve seats and they were knackered, to borrow a phrase. It seems years of sitting while being exposed to the elements caused the seats to corrode. Who knew?
Anyway, I don't have the knowledge nor equipment to deal with installing new valve seats, so the head went off to a machine shop. From the machine shop, more bad news rolled in. It seems the valves were cracked and the guides were severely worn. The rocker arms were hitting the valves off-center and causing the valves to open on an angle, wiping out the guides. Lovely. I ordered new valves, guides and seats and they, too, went to the machine shop.
After a few weeks of work, I should be picking the head up this weekend. With the cylinder head sorted, I can finish boring the cylinder liner to fit the new 76.6mm piston and then bolt the engine back together. All I need now for the powertrain are steel and fiber plates for the clutch, a point and condenser and a spark plug. Once the engine is finished, I can move on to the wheels, tires, brakes, suspension and bodywork.
In all, my rusty Ducati is coming along and my goal of it being roadworthy before the December 21, 2012 apocalypse is within sight.
But all has not been lost in that time. I've decided to make the bike look like a proper 1965 Ducati 350 should look. I have the complete bodywork for a 1966, with its squared-off tank, fenders and headlamp but it just wasn't right. The '65 350 Sebring shared its bodywork with the 160 Monza Junior and that was the only year the Sebring had the rounded tank. Being that it was a one-year-only deal, I think it would only be right to make it look correct. Besides, the 1966 bodywork is really ugly and the proper 1965 bodywork is much better-looking.
So that meant finding this bodywork. Scouring Ebay for weeks turned up nothing. Scouring other parts of the Internet also turned up nothing. Clearly, this was not going to be easy.
But then, by chance, the right tank popped up on Ebay. After an intense bidding war that resulted in me overpaying by quite a lot, the tank I needed was mine. It's not an actual Sebring tank but an older Monza Junior tank that has black painted over chrome. The chrome stripes were not only incorrectly lined up (famous Italian build quality) but were quite rusty. Thankfully, the rust was only on the surface and was gone after an hour or so of rubbing with aluminum foil and steel wool.
The rest of the tank is in good shape, too. The inside is very clean and there only minor imperfections on the outside. The gas cap is also in good condition, thereby saving me money.
I think it was a good purchase but it leaves with a decision to make. See, I like the chrome, even if it's dull and slightly pitted. Since the bike will never be a concourse restoration, I'd like to leave the tank as it sits, making the bike look like a survivor instead of a 100-point resto. But the other half of me wants to paint it and make it look new. Fortunately, I have a million other decisions to make regarding the bike so paint choice isn't pressing at the moment.
Also new in the past few months is a bunch of stuff for the cylinder head. After I took it apart, I got a good look at the valve seats and they were knackered, to borrow a phrase. It seems years of sitting while being exposed to the elements caused the seats to corrode. Who knew?
Anyway, I don't have the knowledge nor equipment to deal with installing new valve seats, so the head went off to a machine shop. From the machine shop, more bad news rolled in. It seems the valves were cracked and the guides were severely worn. The rocker arms were hitting the valves off-center and causing the valves to open on an angle, wiping out the guides. Lovely. I ordered new valves, guides and seats and they, too, went to the machine shop.
After a few weeks of work, I should be picking the head up this weekend. With the cylinder head sorted, I can finish boring the cylinder liner to fit the new 76.6mm piston and then bolt the engine back together. All I need now for the powertrain are steel and fiber plates for the clutch, a point and condenser and a spark plug. Once the engine is finished, I can move on to the wheels, tires, brakes, suspension and bodywork.
In all, my rusty Ducati is coming along and my goal of it being roadworthy before the December 21, 2012 apocalypse is within sight.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
The Difference
With cloudy skies overhead and a temperature hovering around 60, I threw a leg over my Bonneville for a little bit of Fall riding. This Fall has been uncharacteristically warm, which means I can put off the end of the riding season. No complaints from me, I assure you.
As I was riding along admiring the thinning fall foliage, I began to think about the differences between one motorcycle and the next. You see, I've been riding my Guzzi a lot for the past few weeks, mostly because its battery is easier to install. During that time, I became used to its awkward riding position, heavy weight and prodigious power. While going along on my Bonneville today, everything was different.
For starters, the Bonneville feels like a lithe top-line center compared to the gruff defenseman feel of the Guzzi. It does this despite only being 30 lbs lighter. The Bonneville tracks along wonderfully, requiring only the slightest nudge of the handlebars to change direction. It's an easy bike to ride at any speed. On the Guzzi, you get the feeling that it's bored riding at normal speeds. I can hear the Guzzi saying to me: "faster, faster, faster."
Then there's the riding position. On the Guzzi, you're in that racy, torturous Italian riding position. The Bonneville's position is the classic standard position. With the addition of the Thruxton gel seat, this bike is a comfortable long-distance mount. The Guzzi is better on the highway, though. I get the feeling the Guzzi wants to cruise all day at 100 mph. I get the feeling that I'm pushing the Bonneville a bit at speeds over 70.
What I'm getting at is that there are more differences going from bike to bike than from car to car. I drive a lot of cars at my job and I can say that a lot of them feel the same. A lot of the steering, braking and handling has the same feel regardless of brand.
That's not to say you won't feel a bit of difference going from a Volkswagen Golf to a Ferrari 599; of course you will. If you drive multiple mid-size cars or multiple pickup trucks, though, you'll get the feeling that they were all built from some sort of mold. It's like there's a template that says a compact car should feel like this, or that a full-size luxury car should feel like this. It kind of takes the fun out of driving. I think cars are starting to look the same, too.
I've owned and ridden numerous bikes and I can say they've all felt different. A Harley feels different than a BMW, which feels different from a Yamaha. Each bike manufacturer does things their own way and that is evidenced in their products. It makes for interesting products and gives each bike its own character. Each new bike you ride is a new experience. It's not like going from car to car, where you adjust the seat and the mirrors and drive off.
Going from bike to bike, you have to learn the nuances of the new bike. You have to learn what it likes and what it doesn't like. Cars have been engineered to adapt to you. Many cars have memory seats to adapt to your size and have transmissions that adapt to your driving style. You don't get that on a bike. It's up to you to adapt to the bike. It's like going to bed with someone new. It's a bit rocky at first while you each figure out what the other person likes and doesn't like. Once you find it, the magic happens. Sometimes the magic happens too quickly but never mind that.
The differences between each bike is yet another reason why motorcycling is so interesting and so much fun. It's just a shame there isn't more time to sample the differences between bikes. Such is life.
As I was riding along admiring the thinning fall foliage, I began to think about the differences between one motorcycle and the next. You see, I've been riding my Guzzi a lot for the past few weeks, mostly because its battery is easier to install. During that time, I became used to its awkward riding position, heavy weight and prodigious power. While going along on my Bonneville today, everything was different.
For starters, the Bonneville feels like a lithe top-line center compared to the gruff defenseman feel of the Guzzi. It does this despite only being 30 lbs lighter. The Bonneville tracks along wonderfully, requiring only the slightest nudge of the handlebars to change direction. It's an easy bike to ride at any speed. On the Guzzi, you get the feeling that it's bored riding at normal speeds. I can hear the Guzzi saying to me: "faster, faster, faster."
Then there's the riding position. On the Guzzi, you're in that racy, torturous Italian riding position. The Bonneville's position is the classic standard position. With the addition of the Thruxton gel seat, this bike is a comfortable long-distance mount. The Guzzi is better on the highway, though. I get the feeling the Guzzi wants to cruise all day at 100 mph. I get the feeling that I'm pushing the Bonneville a bit at speeds over 70.
What I'm getting at is that there are more differences going from bike to bike than from car to car. I drive a lot of cars at my job and I can say that a lot of them feel the same. A lot of the steering, braking and handling has the same feel regardless of brand.
That's not to say you won't feel a bit of difference going from a Volkswagen Golf to a Ferrari 599; of course you will. If you drive multiple mid-size cars or multiple pickup trucks, though, you'll get the feeling that they were all built from some sort of mold. It's like there's a template that says a compact car should feel like this, or that a full-size luxury car should feel like this. It kind of takes the fun out of driving. I think cars are starting to look the same, too.
I've owned and ridden numerous bikes and I can say they've all felt different. A Harley feels different than a BMW, which feels different from a Yamaha. Each bike manufacturer does things their own way and that is evidenced in their products. It makes for interesting products and gives each bike its own character. Each new bike you ride is a new experience. It's not like going from car to car, where you adjust the seat and the mirrors and drive off.
Going from bike to bike, you have to learn the nuances of the new bike. You have to learn what it likes and what it doesn't like. Cars have been engineered to adapt to you. Many cars have memory seats to adapt to your size and have transmissions that adapt to your driving style. You don't get that on a bike. It's up to you to adapt to the bike. It's like going to bed with someone new. It's a bit rocky at first while you each figure out what the other person likes and doesn't like. Once you find it, the magic happens. Sometimes the magic happens too quickly but never mind that.
The differences between each bike is yet another reason why motorcycling is so interesting and so much fun. It's just a shame there isn't more time to sample the differences between bikes. Such is life.
Friday, November 18, 2011
It's a Great Time to Ride Italian
Motorcycling's cup has runneth over with Italian bikes at the Milan International Motorcycle Show. Bimota released a bunch of new bikes, Ducati debuted some new bikes including the 1199 Panigale and Moto Guzzi revamped the V7 line for 2012. This is great news for Italophiles everywhere.
First up from Bimota is the DB10 Bimotard based on the Ducati Hypermotard. The air-cooled Ducati L-Twin remains and it bears a vague resemblance to the Hypermotard. The similarities end there. It's awash in carbon fiber and has a hand-formed trellis frame holding the bike together. Fully-adjustable suspension is standard, naturally, and it consists of 50mm Marzocchi forks up front and an Extreme Tech shock out back. There are also giant radial Brembos to make sure you stop before you hiy whatever you're screaming toward. Bimota claims a dry weight of 369 lbs, 10 pounds less than the standard Hypermotard.
Bimota's entry into the naked bike segment is the DB9 Brivido, based upon the Ducati Streetfighter. This model is also awash in carbon fiber but is built around the liquid-cooled 1198cc twin that blasts out 162 hp. Yes, it has fully-adjustable suspension from Marzocchi and Extreme Tech but this time the front forks are 43mm, compared to the 50mm forks on the Bimotard. Stopping all this carbon fiber are the same big Brembos but this time they're bolted to lightweight wheels from O.Z.
If you were expecting another Ducati-based Bimota, you're in for a disappointment. The final new Bimota released is a dirt bike called the BBX300. It has the hand-formed chassis you'd expect from Bimota but it has something you didn't: a two-stroke engine built in-house. Normally, Bimota builds their bikes around the engines of other manufacturers. Bimota tried their hand at building a two-stroke in-house with the V Due back in the 90s. The bike was a mess and never really worked properly. Let's hope the new engine works out.
From Ducati, all eyes were on the 1199 Panigale. This bike is the replacement for not only the 1198 but also for the Testastretta engine that has served Ducati well for so many years. The Testastretta can trace its roots all the way back to the Ducati Pantah, which debuted in 1980. The engine in the Pantah was 500cc, air-cooled and SOHC. Over the course of 30 years, the engine came to have 1198cc, liquid-cooling, DOHC and 170 hp.
The new engine is 1199cc and pumps out 195 hp, making it the most powerful twin cylinder engine you can buy. This engine heralds another change for Ducati: the ubiquitous L-Twin is no more. The V-Twin's cylinders are still 90 degrees apart but they have been rotated back, resembling a typical V-Twin arrangement.
Surrounding the engine is an all-new monocoque chassis, giving the bike a dry weight of 362 lbs. That's astonishing, especially with an engine that puts out 195 hp. The Panigale is also overflowing with three letter acronyms like ABS, DTC, DES, DQS, EBC, RbW and TFT. It's best to get the monoposto version so you don't bore your passenger while explaining all the acronyms.
Ducati also showed the Diavale Chromo, which is a restyling of the Diavale. Basically, they gave the tank a black-chrome effect, covered the rest of the bike in black paint and hiked up the price. Next to the Chromo was the 848 Evo Corsa Special Edition. This 848 has an Ohlins shock out back, special paint, bigger brakes, traction control, quick shifter and a really long name.
From Mandello del Lario comes a refreshed V7 in all-black paint. The spoked wheels have been replaced by mags, which are, you guessed it, black. The new V7 has a new 750cc engine with a single throttle body and a bump up in compression. 70% of this engine is completely new, including the throwback valve covers. All of this leads to more torque and a jump to 51 hp. Over all, the V7 is still absolutely gorgeous, still too slow and still too expensive.
Following the regular V7 is a Special Edition model with different paint and the same specs and the Racer. The Racer (above) takes the place of the V7 Cafe Classic and has a chrome gas tank, a special seat, clip-ons and a small flyscreen above the headlamp. You might be interested in the new spoked wheels that reduce weight by 1,440 grams up front and 860 grams in the back. To put those numbers in perspective, that's less than Ozzy Osbourne's daily cocaine intake during the 1970s. Overall, the Racer is a ghastly replacement for the classically beautiful Cafe Classic. At least it has more power.
Bimota's entry into the naked bike segment is the DB9 Brivido, based upon the Ducati Streetfighter. This model is also awash in carbon fiber but is built around the liquid-cooled 1198cc twin that blasts out 162 hp. Yes, it has fully-adjustable suspension from Marzocchi and Extreme Tech but this time the front forks are 43mm, compared to the 50mm forks on the Bimotard. Stopping all this carbon fiber are the same big Brembos but this time they're bolted to lightweight wheels from O.Z.
The new engine is 1199cc and pumps out 195 hp, making it the most powerful twin cylinder engine you can buy. This engine heralds another change for Ducati: the ubiquitous L-Twin is no more. The V-Twin's cylinders are still 90 degrees apart but they have been rotated back, resembling a typical V-Twin arrangement.
Surrounding the engine is an all-new monocoque chassis, giving the bike a dry weight of 362 lbs. That's astonishing, especially with an engine that puts out 195 hp. The Panigale is also overflowing with three letter acronyms like ABS, DTC, DES, DQS, EBC, RbW and TFT. It's best to get the monoposto version so you don't bore your passenger while explaining all the acronyms.
Ducati also showed the Diavale Chromo, which is a restyling of the Diavale. Basically, they gave the tank a black-chrome effect, covered the rest of the bike in black paint and hiked up the price. Next to the Chromo was the 848 Evo Corsa Special Edition. This 848 has an Ohlins shock out back, special paint, bigger brakes, traction control, quick shifter and a really long name.
From Mandello del Lario comes a refreshed V7 in all-black paint. The spoked wheels have been replaced by mags, which are, you guessed it, black. The new V7 has a new 750cc engine with a single throttle body and a bump up in compression. 70% of this engine is completely new, including the throwback valve covers. All of this leads to more torque and a jump to 51 hp. Over all, the V7 is still absolutely gorgeous, still too slow and still too expensive.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Going Naked with MV Agusta
All three people who read this blog have probably figured out by now that I like MV Agusta's bikes. They are fantastically beautiful Italian exotica and that really turns me on. So I guess it was only a matter of time before a post about the 675 Brutale made it on here.
Well, the wait is over.
A few days ago, the 675 Brutale was introduced to the world and my body temperature has just now begun to cool down to normal levels. The bike is just gorgeous. It's stylish, modern, detailed, aggressive, restrained, classic, avant garde, unmistakable and provocative. Above all, though, it's quintessentially Italian.
The bodywork and the frame come together in a seamless fashion. On a lot of naked bikes, the body looks like a bit of plastic plopped on the frame. It looks like an afterthought. On the 675 Brutale, the bodywork and the frame are woven together, as they should be.
MV has also done some interesting things with the Brutale's colors. The plastic side panels on the seat can be had in beige and silver and the seat can be had in brown or black. The contrast in colors of the white bike with beige panels and a brown seat looks really good. Far too many bikes today are covered with a boring coat of black. It's nice to see some different colors and some new options with contrasting colors. The Brutale does have some black plastic around the radiator but that's inevitable. At least the engine is silver.
What really tickles my fancy are the exhausts. MV's F4 line, with its four pipes sticking out from under the seat, held the crown for best-looking exhaust. The 675 line might challenge that, though. The three short pipes poke out of the right side of the bike like guns on a WWII fighter. They even come with bronze tips. I can already hear the scorching wail of the three-cylinder engine just by glancing at the exhaust.
Yes, that's right; MV Agusta has a 675cc triple just like some other European motorcycle company. Unlike that other company's triple, which makes 105 hp, the MV's triple makes 115 hp. It also makes 52 lb/ft of torque, which is two more. The MV, though, makes its power and torque higher in rev range. The MV might be lighter or heavier and that could make a difference. I don't know which bike is heavier because the other company publishes wet weight and MV publishes dry weight. I'll just say the Brutale 675 weighs 358 lbs dry and move on.
Surrounding the engine is a frame made from steel tubing and aluminum. Attached to the frame are 43mm upside-down forks at the front and a single-sided swingarm with a Sachs shock at the back. Halting forward progress are big 320mm radial brakes from Brembo. The front calipers have four pistons each, as if you couldn't guess.
The mechanical specs are all very nice but what gets me is the traction control. It's called MVICS and it has eight settings. How many settings do you need? I wonder if I can think of eight settings. Here goes: off, sport, race, tarmac, gravel, snow, power slide and donut. Anyway, what's wrong with two settings: off and on?
And there a few other niggles to point out. The rear fender looks like a crane hanging off the back. It's like a big sign saying "this is here because the law says it has to be here." I imagine most owners will chuck it in the trash immediately.
And not even MV's team of Michelangelos can make a catalytic converter look visually appealing. It's like a blob of metal stuck on the bottom of the bike. Also visually unappealing is the LCD dashboard. The face looks like something you'd find on a treadmill and its placement above the headlamp is awkward.
None of these niggles, though, distract from the overall goodness of the Brutale 675. MV continues to bring out gorgeous new pieces of art brimming with technology and speed. Here's hoping that trend continues.
Is the 675 Brutale the best-looking naked? It's hard to argue against it. I like the white paint, brown seat and beige side panels. The contrasting colors go together well and give the bike a touch of class missing in other sporty nakeds.
Of course the bike looks best from this angle. Look at the exhausts. They look like they're ready to unleash a burst of .50 cal on some unsuspecting ground targets. I like the wheels, too.
Well, the wait is over.
A few days ago, the 675 Brutale was introduced to the world and my body temperature has just now begun to cool down to normal levels. The bike is just gorgeous. It's stylish, modern, detailed, aggressive, restrained, classic, avant garde, unmistakable and provocative. Above all, though, it's quintessentially Italian.
The bodywork and the frame come together in a seamless fashion. On a lot of naked bikes, the body looks like a bit of plastic plopped on the frame. It looks like an afterthought. On the 675 Brutale, the bodywork and the frame are woven together, as they should be.
MV has also done some interesting things with the Brutale's colors. The plastic side panels on the seat can be had in beige and silver and the seat can be had in brown or black. The contrast in colors of the white bike with beige panels and a brown seat looks really good. Far too many bikes today are covered with a boring coat of black. It's nice to see some different colors and some new options with contrasting colors. The Brutale does have some black plastic around the radiator but that's inevitable. At least the engine is silver.
What really tickles my fancy are the exhausts. MV's F4 line, with its four pipes sticking out from under the seat, held the crown for best-looking exhaust. The 675 line might challenge that, though. The three short pipes poke out of the right side of the bike like guns on a WWII fighter. They even come with bronze tips. I can already hear the scorching wail of the three-cylinder engine just by glancing at the exhaust.
Yes, that's right; MV Agusta has a 675cc triple just like some other European motorcycle company. Unlike that other company's triple, which makes 105 hp, the MV's triple makes 115 hp. It also makes 52 lb/ft of torque, which is two more. The MV, though, makes its power and torque higher in rev range. The MV might be lighter or heavier and that could make a difference. I don't know which bike is heavier because the other company publishes wet weight and MV publishes dry weight. I'll just say the Brutale 675 weighs 358 lbs dry and move on.
Surrounding the engine is a frame made from steel tubing and aluminum. Attached to the frame are 43mm upside-down forks at the front and a single-sided swingarm with a Sachs shock at the back. Halting forward progress are big 320mm radial brakes from Brembo. The front calipers have four pistons each, as if you couldn't guess.
The mechanical specs are all very nice but what gets me is the traction control. It's called MVICS and it has eight settings. How many settings do you need? I wonder if I can think of eight settings. Here goes: off, sport, race, tarmac, gravel, snow, power slide and donut. Anyway, what's wrong with two settings: off and on?
And there a few other niggles to point out. The rear fender looks like a crane hanging off the back. It's like a big sign saying "this is here because the law says it has to be here." I imagine most owners will chuck it in the trash immediately.
And not even MV's team of Michelangelos can make a catalytic converter look visually appealing. It's like a blob of metal stuck on the bottom of the bike. Also visually unappealing is the LCD dashboard. The face looks like something you'd find on a treadmill and its placement above the headlamp is awkward.
None of these niggles, though, distract from the overall goodness of the Brutale 675. MV continues to bring out gorgeous new pieces of art brimming with technology and speed. Here's hoping that trend continues.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Radical Ducati Vendetta
Over the years, I've looked at many bikes from Spanish firm Radical Ducati and have come to same conclusion after looking at each one: they're hideous.
Honestly, the bikes looked liked they were styled by an angry blind man using an axe. I'm sure the bikes are fast and all but I can't get past the styling. Radical Ducati takes all of the beautiful styling of a new Ducati and replaces it with angles, cuts and exhaust wrap. And I think they throw away more parts than they keep. In short, Radical doesn't just paint a mustache on the Mona Lisa, they give her dreads and tattoos.
So it was with justified skepticism that I went to look at the new Vendetta. I was expecting the worst. The Vendetta is based on the new and soon-to-be-replaced Ducati 1198, a bike I think is gorgeous. To ease the shock, I put my hand over my eyes and clicked on the link to the pictures. Ever so slowly, I peeled my hand from in front of my eyes, only to find my skepticism was misplaced.
They've actually made a good-looking bike!
What Radical Ducati did (with help from fellow Spaniards Dragon TT) was take the normal Ducati 1198, remove all the standard bodywork and replace it with all-new bodywork. The solid lights on the standard 1198 were replaced with four smaller lights that look like an angry man's furrowed brow. The fairing has turn signals built into the sides and has been redesigned to allow more air to flow around the engine, paving the way for more performance. The fuel tank is larger and the seat is totally unique, incorporating LED lights and turn signals into the tail. You can even choose between two exhausts. All the better to compose your mechanical symphony with. All of this new bodywork is offered in either fiberglass or carbon fiber.
I like the Vendetta's styling because it's not over-the-top like Radical's other bikes. It has a beautiful sense of aggression and evil to it. It's like a Hollywood leading man went to the gym and has come back more fit, more cut but still handsome. Radical's other bikes were like taking the same leading man and giving him a green mohawk and a safety pin to put through his nose. They just didn't work.
I'd even venture to say the Vendetta is one of the best-looking bikes I've seen in awhile.
Honestly, the bikes looked liked they were styled by an angry blind man using an axe. I'm sure the bikes are fast and all but I can't get past the styling. Radical Ducati takes all of the beautiful styling of a new Ducati and replaces it with angles, cuts and exhaust wrap. And I think they throw away more parts than they keep. In short, Radical doesn't just paint a mustache on the Mona Lisa, they give her dreads and tattoos.
So it was with justified skepticism that I went to look at the new Vendetta. I was expecting the worst. The Vendetta is based on the new and soon-to-be-replaced Ducati 1198, a bike I think is gorgeous. To ease the shock, I put my hand over my eyes and clicked on the link to the pictures. Ever so slowly, I peeled my hand from in front of my eyes, only to find my skepticism was misplaced.
They've actually made a good-looking bike!
I like the Vendetta's styling because it's not over-the-top like Radical's other bikes. It has a beautiful sense of aggression and evil to it. It's like a Hollywood leading man went to the gym and has come back more fit, more cut but still handsome. Radical's other bikes were like taking the same leading man and giving him a green mohawk and a safety pin to put through his nose. They just didn't work.
I'd even venture to say the Vendetta is one of the best-looking bikes I've seen in awhile.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Moto Guzzi Valve Adjustment
There are many pluses that come with doing your own maintenance.
You can save a lot of money by not having to pay for someone else to do it, for example. You also get dirt under your fingernails and oil all over your hands, giving you the look and smell of a Real Man. Plus you get to use all those shiny tools you have in that big red toolbox. Most importantly, though, you get to create mechanical harmony between you and your machine. The intimate knowledge you gain from working on your own machine comes in handy should something happen in the future and it never hurts to know your bike works.
The biggest downside, unfortunately, is that if you cock up, you've only yourself to blame.
With the goal of mechanical harmony in mind, I set out on this blustery Autumn day to adjust the valves on my Guzzi. I have been hearing some tapping lately, more than the usual start up tapping and decided to check the adjustment. Now, many have said that Guzzi valve adjustments are fairly straightforward and simple. Thinking about it, it should be. There are only two valves per cylinder; one for the intake and one for the exhaust. The V11 engine also used pushrods to open the valves, meaning the solitary cam is in the block and out of the way. This really shouldn't be hard at all.
Right, let's get to it.
Begin by taking off the alternator cover. It helps to loosen the crossover pipe, a piece that was already strangely loose on my bike. You'll need to get access to the big nut so you can turn the crankshaft to set the pistons at top dead center (TDC). You'll have to move the rectifier out of the way and do a lot of wiggling to get the cover off. I had to bend the horns out of the way, too.
After the cover is off, this is what you'll see. The nut on the end of the crankshaft is 15/16, which, for those in foreign lands, is 24mm.
Before you turn the big nut, though, remove the spark plugs. This way you won't have to fight the compression as you turn the crankshaft. Begin by taking the spark plug protectors off the valve covers to give you better access to the plugs. As with most bikes, the plugs use the 13/16 plug socket. Once the plugs are out, rotate the crankshaft clockwise until the cylinder on the left is at TDC.
Using a 5mm hex socket, remove the other four bolts from the valve cover. Once that's been completed, the above picture is what you'll see. Like I said earlier, this is a very simple valve train.
With the piston at TDC, slide the feeler gauge between the valve and the rocker arm. The specs for the clearance are .006" for the intake and .008" for the exhaust. The clearance on my valves was about .004" over spec on all four valves.
To adjust the clearance, loosen the small 11mm nut on the rocker arm and turn the shaft with a small pair of pliers. Wiggle the feeler gauge in position as you turn the shaft and stop when you feel resistance. Once the proper resistance is felt, hold the shaft with the pliers and snug up the 11mm nut. Be careful snugging the nut as the shaft will rotate and throw off your adjustment. It's best to leave a little bit of clearance and then tighten the nut to get the clearance into spec. Repeat for the other three valves. For the right cylinder, you'll have to rotate the crankshaft to get that piston at TDC first.
Get the valve cover ready for installation by cleaning up the mating surfaces on the cylinder head and the cover. There was a bit of gasket residue left on the head and that can be removed with a razor blade and some caution. Don't get too aggressive or you'll gouge the aluminum and that would be bad. Luckily the paper gasket came off in one piece and stayed on the cover. A simple wipe down of the gasket on the cover and the surface of the cylinder head is the final step of prep.
To ensure a good seal, I like to use Permatex Indian Head Gasket Shellac Compound. It's like a Great Wall of China preventing the Mongolian engine oil from invading the outside of your engine. I'm surprised the P.C. ninnies haven't gone after the name of this stuff.
Anyway, this stuff's cheap so apply a liberal amount to the gasket. Don't inhale the fumes, though, or Hawkwind's lyrics might start to make sense. I'm guessing that maybe three people know who Hawkwind is. Repeat the above three steps for the other valve cover, minus the bad Hawkwind joke.
With the gasket sealer in place, plop the valve cover back on and torque the bolts to, um, some pound/feet. Make sure to put the spark plug back in before putting on the protectors. I made the mistake of not doing that and had to take them off again.
Finally, put the alternator cover back on and bolt up the rectifier. Tighten up the crossover pipe, too. Even with the clamps fully tightened, my crossover is still very loose. It's definitely something I'll have to address.
And there you have it. Moto Guzzi valve adjustments are as easy as they say. Having never done it before, the whole job took just under an hour to complete. As this is something that needs to be done every 6,000 miles, I'm sure I can get that time down as I get more familiar with the procedure.
Now I'm going to take my manly, oil-covered hands and do something manly. Maybe I'll go use a chainsaw or something.
You can save a lot of money by not having to pay for someone else to do it, for example. You also get dirt under your fingernails and oil all over your hands, giving you the look and smell of a Real Man. Plus you get to use all those shiny tools you have in that big red toolbox. Most importantly, though, you get to create mechanical harmony between you and your machine. The intimate knowledge you gain from working on your own machine comes in handy should something happen in the future and it never hurts to know your bike works.
The biggest downside, unfortunately, is that if you cock up, you've only yourself to blame.
With the goal of mechanical harmony in mind, I set out on this blustery Autumn day to adjust the valves on my Guzzi. I have been hearing some tapping lately, more than the usual start up tapping and decided to check the adjustment. Now, many have said that Guzzi valve adjustments are fairly straightforward and simple. Thinking about it, it should be. There are only two valves per cylinder; one for the intake and one for the exhaust. The V11 engine also used pushrods to open the valves, meaning the solitary cam is in the block and out of the way. This really shouldn't be hard at all.
Right, let's get to it.
With the piston at TDC, slide the feeler gauge between the valve and the rocker arm. The specs for the clearance are .006" for the intake and .008" for the exhaust. The clearance on my valves was about .004" over spec on all four valves.
To adjust the clearance, loosen the small 11mm nut on the rocker arm and turn the shaft with a small pair of pliers. Wiggle the feeler gauge in position as you turn the shaft and stop when you feel resistance. Once the proper resistance is felt, hold the shaft with the pliers and snug up the 11mm nut. Be careful snugging the nut as the shaft will rotate and throw off your adjustment. It's best to leave a little bit of clearance and then tighten the nut to get the clearance into spec. Repeat for the other three valves. For the right cylinder, you'll have to rotate the crankshaft to get that piston at TDC first.
And there you have it. Moto Guzzi valve adjustments are as easy as they say. Having never done it before, the whole job took just under an hour to complete. As this is something that needs to be done every 6,000 miles, I'm sure I can get that time down as I get more familiar with the procedure.
Now I'm going to take my manly, oil-covered hands and do something manly. Maybe I'll go use a chainsaw or something.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Sex on Wheels
There are some who believe that beauty is more than skin deep, that what's on the inside is most important.
After looking at the new MV Agusta F4, that's a load of rubbish.
MV subtly restyled the F4 for 2011, giving the bike a leaner, more aggressive look. The nose is pointier and the fairing has a more chopped and sloped look to it. The fairing also has a few more holes cut into it, looking like someone took an axe to it. F4s of old looked a bit slabbed-sided, as the fairing sides were flat areas with nothing really going on to break them up. Taking up residence under the new pointy nose are larger split ducts that make the bike look like a hungry cyclops ready to tear your head off. And I mean that in a good way.
A few things remain from the previous F4, too. The single diamond-shaped headlight remains, though it's subtly restyled enough for the new nose. Also remaining are the gorgeous five-spoke wheels and single-sided swing arm, though this swing arm is all-new and weighs a scant 11 lbs. The F4's trademark quad exhaust is also back and restyled with square exhaust tips. Apparently MV didn't get the memo saying under seat is exhaust is passe on new superbikes. The silencer housing the quad tips is literally right under your butt, guaranteeing to warm it faster than a jalapeno and habanero sandwich.
Under all the gorgeous styling is some serious superbike power. One hundred ninety-five horsepower finds its way to the Earth through a six-speed gearbox and a rear wheel modulated with advanced traction control. Two injectors per cylinder work through MV's new Torque Shift System, a variable intake system. Titanium valves reside in a new cylinder head.
The chassis has all the trappings of a modern superbike: big Monoblock Brembos, steep steering angle and as many lightweight parts as possible. Even the front axle was redesigned to be as light as possible.
But enough about what you can't see, let's talk about what you can.
Man, this bike is just gorgeous. I didn't think MV would be able to top the F4 312RR Edizione Finale but they've topped it in spades. The new aggressive look works, making the bike look fierce and ready for high-speed combat on racetracks everywhere. The F4 is a piece of rolling art, not looking out of place at Road America, at a high-class restaurant or at the Guggenheim.
When describing the new F4, calling it sex on wheels would be an understatement. I think it's the best-looking motorcycle you can buy today. Sure you can get the same features, speed and specs for cheaper but you don't get the exclusivity and gorgeous styling of the MV. When you have that combination, there are no substitutes.
I thought it would be hard, almost impossible, to improve on a classic like the previous F4 but MV did it. They've improved on the Mona Lisa.
After looking at the new MV Agusta F4, that's a load of rubbish.
MV subtly restyled the F4 for 2011, giving the bike a leaner, more aggressive look. The nose is pointier and the fairing has a more chopped and sloped look to it. The fairing also has a few more holes cut into it, looking like someone took an axe to it. F4s of old looked a bit slabbed-sided, as the fairing sides were flat areas with nothing really going on to break them up. Taking up residence under the new pointy nose are larger split ducts that make the bike look like a hungry cyclops ready to tear your head off. And I mean that in a good way.
A few things remain from the previous F4, too. The single diamond-shaped headlight remains, though it's subtly restyled enough for the new nose. Also remaining are the gorgeous five-spoke wheels and single-sided swing arm, though this swing arm is all-new and weighs a scant 11 lbs. The F4's trademark quad exhaust is also back and restyled with square exhaust tips. Apparently MV didn't get the memo saying under seat is exhaust is passe on new superbikes. The silencer housing the quad tips is literally right under your butt, guaranteeing to warm it faster than a jalapeno and habanero sandwich.
Under all the gorgeous styling is some serious superbike power. One hundred ninety-five horsepower finds its way to the Earth through a six-speed gearbox and a rear wheel modulated with advanced traction control. Two injectors per cylinder work through MV's new Torque Shift System, a variable intake system. Titanium valves reside in a new cylinder head.
The chassis has all the trappings of a modern superbike: big Monoblock Brembos, steep steering angle and as many lightweight parts as possible. Even the front axle was redesigned to be as light as possible.
But enough about what you can't see, let's talk about what you can.
Man, this bike is just gorgeous. I didn't think MV would be able to top the F4 312RR Edizione Finale but they've topped it in spades. The new aggressive look works, making the bike look fierce and ready for high-speed combat on racetracks everywhere. The F4 is a piece of rolling art, not looking out of place at Road America, at a high-class restaurant or at the Guggenheim.
When describing the new F4, calling it sex on wheels would be an understatement. I think it's the best-looking motorcycle you can buy today. Sure you can get the same features, speed and specs for cheaper but you don't get the exclusivity and gorgeous styling of the MV. When you have that combination, there are no substitutes.
I thought it would be hard, almost impossible, to improve on a classic like the previous F4 but MV did it. They've improved on the Mona Lisa.
If motorcycles were rated like adult films, the F4 would be X to the 10th power. Only the Italians would be able to combine the pure sex of the F4 with serious power and cutting-edge tech.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
I Want the Ring Back
I'm officially over the Nurburgring.
Honestly, I'm tired of reading about it, I'm tired of hearing about which car is the fastest around it, and I'm tired of every car maker using it to buy sports car legitimacy.
The 'Ring used to be a place of wonder and fear. Jackie Stewart called it the "Green Hell." Niki Lauda nearly died there. Countless others actually have. Today, "tuned at the Nurburgring" is the catchphrase that rolls out of car makers' marketing departments across the world.
Cadillac was there tuning the CTS. Ferrari set a record there with the 599XX. What, isn't Fiorano good enough anymore? Acura was even there with the MDX, which is an SUV. The Nurburgring-tuned suspension ought to come in handy on the way to the grocery store or to soccer practice. Nissan tuned the Maxima's suspension at the 'Ring, too.
And that's what makes me mad. Does the average owner of an MDX or Maxima really care about the 'Ring? Do you think they could find it on a map? I would imagine the answer would be a resounding no. People buy an MDX because they want the space an SUV provides, not for driving excitement. When was the last time the average owner of an MDX got up early and said "I think I'll take my MDX on a spirited run through the twisties. You know, test that Nurburgring suspension"? My guess would be never.
You see, the 'Ring belong to those of us interested in cars (and bikes). It's not the place where car makers can go to buy credibility. It's the place where all the things that make a great driver - skill, determination, bravery, concentration- need to come together in order to survive. It shouldn't be the place where a manufacturer throws a pro driver in their car and then has the marketing department post the lap time to satiate all the fan boys and Internet bench racers. It strips the circuit of its history and wonder. Hearing people not interested in cars talk about the Nurburgring is like hearing your friend talk about spending the night with your ex-girlfriend.
Today, the 'Ring isn't the place that was dropped from the Grand Prix circuit because too many drivers were crashing and dying. It's now merely the place where the Nissan GTR is faster than the Porsche 911 Turbo.
Ho-hum.
Honestly, I'm tired of reading about it, I'm tired of hearing about which car is the fastest around it, and I'm tired of every car maker using it to buy sports car legitimacy.
The 'Ring used to be a place of wonder and fear. Jackie Stewart called it the "Green Hell." Niki Lauda nearly died there. Countless others actually have. Today, "tuned at the Nurburgring" is the catchphrase that rolls out of car makers' marketing departments across the world.
Cadillac was there tuning the CTS. Ferrari set a record there with the 599XX. What, isn't Fiorano good enough anymore? Acura was even there with the MDX, which is an SUV. The Nurburgring-tuned suspension ought to come in handy on the way to the grocery store or to soccer practice. Nissan tuned the Maxima's suspension at the 'Ring, too.
And that's what makes me mad. Does the average owner of an MDX or Maxima really care about the 'Ring? Do you think they could find it on a map? I would imagine the answer would be a resounding no. People buy an MDX because they want the space an SUV provides, not for driving excitement. When was the last time the average owner of an MDX got up early and said "I think I'll take my MDX on a spirited run through the twisties. You know, test that Nurburgring suspension"? My guess would be never.
You see, the 'Ring belong to those of us interested in cars (and bikes). It's not the place where car makers can go to buy credibility. It's the place where all the things that make a great driver - skill, determination, bravery, concentration- need to come together in order to survive. It shouldn't be the place where a manufacturer throws a pro driver in their car and then has the marketing department post the lap time to satiate all the fan boys and Internet bench racers. It strips the circuit of its history and wonder. Hearing people not interested in cars talk about the Nurburgring is like hearing your friend talk about spending the night with your ex-girlfriend.
Today, the 'Ring isn't the place that was dropped from the Grand Prix circuit because too many drivers were crashing and dying. It's now merely the place where the Nissan GTR is faster than the Porsche 911 Turbo.
Ho-hum.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Living on Borrowed Time
As I'm writing this, the thermometer outside reads a chilly 49 degrees Fahrenheit. Yes, the Autumn is upon us and it will be dragging along its sidekick Old Man Winter. For us motorcyclists up north, we're living on borrowed time.
In no time at all, the batteries will be removed from the bikes (and the Corvette) and placed in the basement to ride out the winter. I'll stare mournfully at my covered bikes as I warm up the snowblower. I'll check the weather on a daily basis with the hope of a warmish day to do some riding only to find none. The sky will be a perpetual shade of gray. Winter is a time of longing - for sun, warmth and riding.
In the meantime, though, there's still plenty of riding to do.
Early Autumn offers some of the best riding of the year. The heat and humidity of summer is replaced with much cooler temperatures and beautiful scenery as the trees change color. It's nice not being drenched with sweat when coming home from a ride. Another plus is riding quickly through a pile of leaves and watching them in your mirrors as they get blown around, just like in the movies. That makes you feel fast.
But with all the pluses of Autumn riding, there's still the cold wind of Winter blowing down your back. The knowledge that the one good riding day can be followed by a week of rain and cold can make Autumn riding depressing and bittersweet. The onset of Winter is making me antsy and wanting to do more riding. I know I don't have much riding time left and I should enjoy the time as much as possible.
And that's what I intend to do - enjoy the time left as much as possible. With that thought in mind, I'm going riding.
Not now, though; it's dark. I'll ride in the morning.
In no time at all, the batteries will be removed from the bikes (and the Corvette) and placed in the basement to ride out the winter. I'll stare mournfully at my covered bikes as I warm up the snowblower. I'll check the weather on a daily basis with the hope of a warmish day to do some riding only to find none. The sky will be a perpetual shade of gray. Winter is a time of longing - for sun, warmth and riding.
In the meantime, though, there's still plenty of riding to do.
Early Autumn offers some of the best riding of the year. The heat and humidity of summer is replaced with much cooler temperatures and beautiful scenery as the trees change color. It's nice not being drenched with sweat when coming home from a ride. Another plus is riding quickly through a pile of leaves and watching them in your mirrors as they get blown around, just like in the movies. That makes you feel fast.
But with all the pluses of Autumn riding, there's still the cold wind of Winter blowing down your back. The knowledge that the one good riding day can be followed by a week of rain and cold can make Autumn riding depressing and bittersweet. The onset of Winter is making me antsy and wanting to do more riding. I know I don't have much riding time left and I should enjoy the time as much as possible.
And that's what I intend to do - enjoy the time left as much as possible. With that thought in mind, I'm going riding.
Not now, though; it's dark. I'll ride in the morning.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
200 miles later
It's time for a 200 mile update on life with my new (to me) Moto Guzzi V11 Sport.
To quickly recap, I was looking for a lightweight corner-carving motard and ended up buying a 500 lb Guzzi. You figure it out.
Going back and forth between the Guzzi and my Bonneville reveals that besides being air-cooled, twin-cylinder motorcycles, they are worlds apart. My Bonneville is smooth, comfortable and reliable. The Guzzi is loud, uncomfortable and rough. It's like riding the motorcycling equivalent of a muscle car. It even sounds like one!
The engine is big and makes a lot of noise. Not just noise from the Ferracci pipes, but noise from the valvetrain, the timing gears and pretty much everywhere else. The growl from the pipes is very addicting, though, and it's hard to resist giving it a handful of throttle.
The two big cylinders moving up and down create a lot of vibration, too. Not just at idle, where your butt moves side-to-side with the power pulses, but while you're riding, as well. At 3,500 rpm, a buzzing vibration moves through the bars, instantly numbing your hands and blurring the objects in the mirrors. However, the vibration does go away as the revs climb. Hmm, that sounds like a good excuse for more throttle!
In the last 200 miles, I've also had a few issues. First, the odometer quit working. If I fiddled with the trip reset knob, the odometer would work for a few miles and then stop again. Once, it started spinning backward, which was weird. The manufacturer for the gauges was switched from Veglia to ITI in 2003 because of reliability issues with the Veglia units. It doesn't sound like much was solved with the switch. Anyway, I applied a liberal amount of WD-40 to the odometer gears and it's working fine now.
Second, the transmission has a mind of its own. It will shift normally for 20 or 30 miles and then decide it doesn't want to go into third or fourth gear, requiring me to tap down on the shifter and then up to engage the gear. It may also decide to take lunch and leave me in a false neutral. This bike was advertised as having a six-speed gearbox but I think it has 11 speeds - six forward gears and five neutrals. After much shifter adjusting and a generous application of WD-40, it seems to be working as designed now. When this transmission debuted in 1999, Moto Guzzi claimed it was their smoothest transmission ever. It really makes me wonder how bad the old ones were.
And finally, the riding position is murder. Italian bikes are notorious for tormenting their riders with punishing riding positions and this Guzzi is no different. Your legs are crammed into this tiny space while your arms are stretched out to the max, leaving your butt sticking up as if you're preparing for a prostate exam. Undignified is a good way to describe how you look while riding. Uncomfortable is a good way to describe how the riding position feels.
However, all of these niggles and issues disappear when you point the bike down a twisty ribbon of asphalt.
On a twisty backroad, the bike just comes alive. The riding position becomes comfortable and natural. Right on cue, the engine delivers its torque exactly when you need it: on exit from the corner. Big Brembo brakes bring the Guzzi's massive bulk to a stop with easily-modulated quickness. Suddenly, everything about this bike starts to makes sense. I was wrong when I called it a two-wheeled muscle car. It's really a two-wheeled AMG Mercedes - seemingly too big and heavy to be magic on a backroad but yet it is.
With its long wheelbase, the Guzzi is just so stable at speed. You can fly down winding roads without any hint of twitching or instability. It also hides its weight well, making easy transitions from left- to right-hand bends with just a bit of countersteer and some nudging from your hips. At 500-plus lbs, it will never be confused for a lithe supersport or an all-out superbike. It does just fine on the roads of the real world and, really, that's more important. This bike will never be on a track so I'll gladly trade a few seconds there for real-world stability.
Piloting my Bonneville down a winding road is exercise. You're constantly fighting the tall front tire and the heavy wheels. On the same winding road, the Guzzi is in its natural habitat, doing what it was built to do. It leans over gracefully into the corners and then a big lump of V-twin torque fires you right out of them. It really is magic.
Now that I'm starting to get a feel for the bike and its eccentricities (the rightward lurch upon throttle application never gets old), I can start messing with the adjustable suspension. I moved everything back to the factory settings and it seems a bit stiff. I'll start getting more in depth with those adjustments in the next 200 miles.
Right now, though, I need some higher clip-ons. Oh, my aching biceps...
To quickly recap, I was looking for a lightweight corner-carving motard and ended up buying a 500 lb Guzzi. You figure it out.
Going back and forth between the Guzzi and my Bonneville reveals that besides being air-cooled, twin-cylinder motorcycles, they are worlds apart. My Bonneville is smooth, comfortable and reliable. The Guzzi is loud, uncomfortable and rough. It's like riding the motorcycling equivalent of a muscle car. It even sounds like one!
The engine is big and makes a lot of noise. Not just noise from the Ferracci pipes, but noise from the valvetrain, the timing gears and pretty much everywhere else. The growl from the pipes is very addicting, though, and it's hard to resist giving it a handful of throttle.
The two big cylinders moving up and down create a lot of vibration, too. Not just at idle, where your butt moves side-to-side with the power pulses, but while you're riding, as well. At 3,500 rpm, a buzzing vibration moves through the bars, instantly numbing your hands and blurring the objects in the mirrors. However, the vibration does go away as the revs climb. Hmm, that sounds like a good excuse for more throttle!
In the last 200 miles, I've also had a few issues. First, the odometer quit working. If I fiddled with the trip reset knob, the odometer would work for a few miles and then stop again. Once, it started spinning backward, which was weird. The manufacturer for the gauges was switched from Veglia to ITI in 2003 because of reliability issues with the Veglia units. It doesn't sound like much was solved with the switch. Anyway, I applied a liberal amount of WD-40 to the odometer gears and it's working fine now.
Second, the transmission has a mind of its own. It will shift normally for 20 or 30 miles and then decide it doesn't want to go into third or fourth gear, requiring me to tap down on the shifter and then up to engage the gear. It may also decide to take lunch and leave me in a false neutral. This bike was advertised as having a six-speed gearbox but I think it has 11 speeds - six forward gears and five neutrals. After much shifter adjusting and a generous application of WD-40, it seems to be working as designed now. When this transmission debuted in 1999, Moto Guzzi claimed it was their smoothest transmission ever. It really makes me wonder how bad the old ones were.
And finally, the riding position is murder. Italian bikes are notorious for tormenting their riders with punishing riding positions and this Guzzi is no different. Your legs are crammed into this tiny space while your arms are stretched out to the max, leaving your butt sticking up as if you're preparing for a prostate exam. Undignified is a good way to describe how you look while riding. Uncomfortable is a good way to describe how the riding position feels.
However, all of these niggles and issues disappear when you point the bike down a twisty ribbon of asphalt.
On a twisty backroad, the bike just comes alive. The riding position becomes comfortable and natural. Right on cue, the engine delivers its torque exactly when you need it: on exit from the corner. Big Brembo brakes bring the Guzzi's massive bulk to a stop with easily-modulated quickness. Suddenly, everything about this bike starts to makes sense. I was wrong when I called it a two-wheeled muscle car. It's really a two-wheeled AMG Mercedes - seemingly too big and heavy to be magic on a backroad but yet it is.
With its long wheelbase, the Guzzi is just so stable at speed. You can fly down winding roads without any hint of twitching or instability. It also hides its weight well, making easy transitions from left- to right-hand bends with just a bit of countersteer and some nudging from your hips. At 500-plus lbs, it will never be confused for a lithe supersport or an all-out superbike. It does just fine on the roads of the real world and, really, that's more important. This bike will never be on a track so I'll gladly trade a few seconds there for real-world stability.
Piloting my Bonneville down a winding road is exercise. You're constantly fighting the tall front tire and the heavy wheels. On the same winding road, the Guzzi is in its natural habitat, doing what it was built to do. It leans over gracefully into the corners and then a big lump of V-twin torque fires you right out of them. It really is magic.
Now that I'm starting to get a feel for the bike and its eccentricities (the rightward lurch upon throttle application never gets old), I can start messing with the adjustable suspension. I moved everything back to the factory settings and it seems a bit stiff. I'll start getting more in depth with those adjustments in the next 200 miles.
Right now, though, I need some higher clip-ons. Oh, my aching biceps...
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Looking for a Light Weight Motorcycle
I've been looking for a lightweight bike recently, something with an emphasis on handling. The motard concept of a dirt bike converted into a sports bike is really appealing due to the low weight of dirt bikes and their strength. You have to be tough to survive on dirt. The biggest problem I've encountered in my search has been the copious seat heights of some the bikes. Frankly, I'm short and motards aren't.
Anyway, I've been looking at the KTM Duke II, the Suzuki DRZ400SM and the Yamaha WR250X. I want weight under 400 lbs, one cylinder and liquid cooling. Fuel injection would be nice but is not a requirement. I'm not that interested in balls-out horsepower and I just want a corner carver. A motard fits this bill nicely.
So, with the requirements above in mind, I bought this:
It's a 2003 Moto Guzzi V11 Sport.
Keen observers will notice that it meets none of my requirements. It's heavy (500 lbs dry), twin cylinder and air-cooled. At least it's fuel injected.
I was looking around the Internet and stumbled across this Guzzi for sale at Martin Eurosports in Coopersburg, PA and I was hooked immediately. The red paint, racer position and throbbing twin sucked me right in. All thoughts of 30 horsepower motards flew away like birds during the onset of winter.
I took the 6 hours drive a few days ago to look at the bike and was sold before I got out of the car. It's in extremely good condition with 15,000 miles on the clock. The previous owner took very good care of the bike, evidenced by the expensive and tasteful mods like the carbon fiber rear fender, Moto Guzzi accessory quarter fairing and Fast by Ferracci silencers.
The heart of the V11 is the 1064cc V-Twin that churns out 91 horsepower and 63 lb/ft of torque. This engine is traditional Guzzi, from the air-cooling to the pushrod valve actuation to the rightward lurch whenever the throttle is blipped. The sound and fury emanating from the nice carbon cans is pleasantly growling without being obnoxious. It sounds like a muscle car.
Sitting behind the engine is a six-speed gearbox, hailed by the motorcycling press as Guzzi's best, sending power to the back wheel via Guzzi's traditional shaft drive. Holding everything together and on the road is a steel backbone frame and fully adjustable suspension front and rear. The front wheel gets it bounce from a 40mm Marzocchi fork and the back gets its from a Sachs Boge shock unit.
Bringing the big red bike to a stop are Brembo brakes front and rear with Guzzi's (again) traditional linked brake system. The foot pedal actuates the front left and rear brake while the lever control actuates the right front brake.
In all, this bike so unlike me. Number one, it's red, a color way too flashy for me. I like dark colors (gray, black, dark blue) and red is too ostentatious for conservative ol' me. It's also modern in its styling, though it still has a few retro touches. I prefer the styling of old bikes (one of the reasons I bought my Bonneville) but this Guzzi is very good-looking.
What attracted me to this bike was its Italian heritage (I'm Italian), its unique qualities and its abilities. It hides its girth well and is just a joy to pilot down a winding road. Its quirks, like the lurch when you blip the throttle or the rattle of the dry clutch, speak to me in a way that's hard to describe. They give the bike its own character, something you won't find on any other bike. Stuff like that drives me wild in a good way.
I'm looking forward to a long relationship with this machine.
Anyway, I've been looking at the KTM Duke II, the Suzuki DRZ400SM and the Yamaha WR250X. I want weight under 400 lbs, one cylinder and liquid cooling. Fuel injection would be nice but is not a requirement. I'm not that interested in balls-out horsepower and I just want a corner carver. A motard fits this bill nicely.
So, with the requirements above in mind, I bought this:
It's a 2003 Moto Guzzi V11 Sport.
Keen observers will notice that it meets none of my requirements. It's heavy (500 lbs dry), twin cylinder and air-cooled. At least it's fuel injected.
I was looking around the Internet and stumbled across this Guzzi for sale at Martin Eurosports in Coopersburg, PA and I was hooked immediately. The red paint, racer position and throbbing twin sucked me right in. All thoughts of 30 horsepower motards flew away like birds during the onset of winter.
I took the 6 hours drive a few days ago to look at the bike and was sold before I got out of the car. It's in extremely good condition with 15,000 miles on the clock. The previous owner took very good care of the bike, evidenced by the expensive and tasteful mods like the carbon fiber rear fender, Moto Guzzi accessory quarter fairing and Fast by Ferracci silencers.
The heart of the V11 is the 1064cc V-Twin that churns out 91 horsepower and 63 lb/ft of torque. This engine is traditional Guzzi, from the air-cooling to the pushrod valve actuation to the rightward lurch whenever the throttle is blipped. The sound and fury emanating from the nice carbon cans is pleasantly growling without being obnoxious. It sounds like a muscle car.
Sitting behind the engine is a six-speed gearbox, hailed by the motorcycling press as Guzzi's best, sending power to the back wheel via Guzzi's traditional shaft drive. Holding everything together and on the road is a steel backbone frame and fully adjustable suspension front and rear. The front wheel gets it bounce from a 40mm Marzocchi fork and the back gets its from a Sachs Boge shock unit.
Bringing the big red bike to a stop are Brembo brakes front and rear with Guzzi's (again) traditional linked brake system. The foot pedal actuates the front left and rear brake while the lever control actuates the right front brake.
In all, this bike so unlike me. Number one, it's red, a color way too flashy for me. I like dark colors (gray, black, dark blue) and red is too ostentatious for conservative ol' me. It's also modern in its styling, though it still has a few retro touches. I prefer the styling of old bikes (one of the reasons I bought my Bonneville) but this Guzzi is very good-looking.
What attracted me to this bike was its Italian heritage (I'm Italian), its unique qualities and its abilities. It hides its girth well and is just a joy to pilot down a winding road. Its quirks, like the lurch when you blip the throttle or the rattle of the dry clutch, speak to me in a way that's hard to describe. They give the bike its own character, something you won't find on any other bike. Stuff like that drives me wild in a good way.
I'm looking forward to a long relationship with this machine.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Go Small or Go Home
After making a name for itself selling small to mid-size scooters, Italian firm Aprilia has been carving out quite a niche in the sport bike world. Their initial attempts at full-on sport bikes were considered by some in the press to be cute attempts to join the big boys from Japan and Europe. The roaring thunder emanating from the Rotax-built twin in the RSV 1000 silenced many of the critics and helped cement Aprilia as a legitimate power in the superbike wars.
But Aprilia's heart is still the small-bore segment.
And there is no more proof of this than their newest small bike, the RS4 125. The familiar two-stroke is gone as this Aprilia is powered by a liquid-cooled four-stroke single displacing 125cc's and pumping out 16 horsepower. It also sports a 41 mm inverted fork, four-piston front brakes and a stout aluminum frame. Topping it off is styling reminiscent of the much larger RSV4 superbike. The RS4 125 is aimed the teenage rider looking to get his or her feet wet in the sportbike pool.
Let's go back and focus on something for a bit: 16 horsepower.
Sixteen.
Don't let that number fool you into thinking this bike is a few steps above a Power Wheels motorcycle. This machine is full of serious engineering.
The engine features dry-sump lubrication to save weight and physical engine size. Lessons learned in World Superbike and GP 125 found their way into the die-cast aluminum chassis, creating a stiff frame that's still light weight. Clamping the 300 mm front disk is a radially-mounted four-piston caliper. The exhaust is hung low in the chassis for better mass centralization. Even the fairing was wind tunnel-tested for maximum aerodynamic efficiency. The whole package has ready-to-ride wet weight of just 264 lbs.
That's an amazing spec sheet for a small-bore bike.
Even though this machine is marketed toward 16-year-olds, its serious engineering can make any experienced rider take notice. It's a bit like a road-legal (in Europe) GP 125 bike much the same way a Ducati Desmosedici is a road-legal MotoGP bike. The stiff chassis, big brakes and willing engine all combine to get those enthusiast juices flowing.
Now if it will only come to the U.S.
But Aprilia's heart is still the small-bore segment.
And there is no more proof of this than their newest small bike, the RS4 125. The familiar two-stroke is gone as this Aprilia is powered by a liquid-cooled four-stroke single displacing 125cc's and pumping out 16 horsepower. It also sports a 41 mm inverted fork, four-piston front brakes and a stout aluminum frame. Topping it off is styling reminiscent of the much larger RSV4 superbike. The RS4 125 is aimed the teenage rider looking to get his or her feet wet in the sportbike pool.
Let's go back and focus on something for a bit: 16 horsepower.
Sixteen.
Don't let that number fool you into thinking this bike is a few steps above a Power Wheels motorcycle. This machine is full of serious engineering.
The engine features dry-sump lubrication to save weight and physical engine size. Lessons learned in World Superbike and GP 125 found their way into the die-cast aluminum chassis, creating a stiff frame that's still light weight. Clamping the 300 mm front disk is a radially-mounted four-piston caliper. The exhaust is hung low in the chassis for better mass centralization. Even the fairing was wind tunnel-tested for maximum aerodynamic efficiency. The whole package has ready-to-ride wet weight of just 264 lbs.
That's an amazing spec sheet for a small-bore bike.
Even though this machine is marketed toward 16-year-olds, its serious engineering can make any experienced rider take notice. It's a bit like a road-legal (in Europe) GP 125 bike much the same way a Ducati Desmosedici is a road-legal MotoGP bike. The stiff chassis, big brakes and willing engine all combine to get those enthusiast juices flowing.
Now if it will only come to the U.S.
An almost dead-ringer for an RSV4, the RS4 125 has Italian good looks and charm in spades.
The LCD display mimics those found on larger sportbikes and adds a minimalist touch to the cockpit. Make no mistake, this bike is all business.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Dining at the Sportster Cafe
It's recently hit me like a ton of bricks: I want to give a Harley-Davidson Sportster the cafe treatment.
For so long, Milwaukee's small V-Twin has been victimized by choppers, bobbers and other people with a welder and too much time on their hands. And when it's not being cut-up and ruined, the Sportster is passed off as a "girl's bike". It's a shame, really, because the Sportster really isn't a bad bike. It may not be the fastest, the most agile or the lightest bike in the world but it has history and character in spades.
As someone who has ridden a few Sportsters, I can say they aren't the most refined motorcycles on the road. They have a heavy, industrial quality to them that isn't found on other motorcycles. Everything feels solid, like the gear change, which has a nice thunk to it. Sportsters are also heavy, weighing in at around 500 pounds or more, depending on model and year. That weight shows itself in the corners where the Sportster's respectable, if not sporty, handling is displayed. At it's heart, though, the Sportster is loud, crude and mean. That's exactly what it should be, even if HD's marketing department is trying to sell the bike to women.
And after 54 years of drag racers, choppers, bobbers, customs and chrome, there really isn't any new ground for the Sportster to cover.
Oh, but there is.
Hiding beneath the chrome is a brilliant cafe bike just waiting to be unleashed, spewing the patented Harley sound on some unsuspecting rockers. Let's have a look at some cafe'd Sportsters from around the Internet:
This Norley is a nice variation on the Triton theme. A Triton is a Triumph twin mounted in a Norton Featherbed frame, combining the era's best powertrain (Triumph) with the best chassis (Norton Featherbed). Norley means it's a Featherbed frame (Nor) with a Harley Sportster powertrain (Ley). The Manx-style alloy tank and bum-stop seat make it look very period. I like it.
Another very classic-looking Sportster cafe. The green is a nice color and I dig the Vincent-style tank badge. I could ride this and be happy.
I really like this Sportster. The Manx tank is perfect and the badging is an homage to Vincent/HRD. Beautiful, I love it.
Roland Sands Design is even getting on the cafe Sportster train with this bike based on a wrecked Nightster. I like the bike overall, but a few items like the exhaust, the lack of a front fender and the number 3 on the oil tank put me off.
For so long, Milwaukee's small V-Twin has been victimized by choppers, bobbers and other people with a welder and too much time on their hands. And when it's not being cut-up and ruined, the Sportster is passed off as a "girl's bike". It's a shame, really, because the Sportster really isn't a bad bike. It may not be the fastest, the most agile or the lightest bike in the world but it has history and character in spades.
As someone who has ridden a few Sportsters, I can say they aren't the most refined motorcycles on the road. They have a heavy, industrial quality to them that isn't found on other motorcycles. Everything feels solid, like the gear change, which has a nice thunk to it. Sportsters are also heavy, weighing in at around 500 pounds or more, depending on model and year. That weight shows itself in the corners where the Sportster's respectable, if not sporty, handling is displayed. At it's heart, though, the Sportster is loud, crude and mean. That's exactly what it should be, even if HD's marketing department is trying to sell the bike to women.
And after 54 years of drag racers, choppers, bobbers, customs and chrome, there really isn't any new ground for the Sportster to cover.
Oh, but there is.
Hiding beneath the chrome is a brilliant cafe bike just waiting to be unleashed, spewing the patented Harley sound on some unsuspecting rockers. Let's have a look at some cafe'd Sportsters from around the Internet:
Willie G. Davidson saw the Sportster's capacity as a cafe bike over 30 years ago when The Motor Company released the XLCR in 1977. Unfortunately, nobody else saw that capacity and the XLCR was dropped after a two year run due to poor sales. Now the bike's a collector's item. Figures.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Six Things They Don't Tell You About Motorcycle Restorations
This time last year I was happily hauling home a rusted hulk that was, at one time, a 1965 Ducati 350 Sebring. I drove home that evening with the image of me putting on an old-school helmet, tromping on the kick start and then tearing off into the horizon to the tune of a thousand fluttering female hearts.
One year later I have a painted frame, a few other bits with paint on them and an engine spread all over the basement. With coffee mug in hand, I examine my pile of parts each morning and ask “where the hell does all this stuff go?”
So, with optimistic restorations in mind, I present The Six Things They Don’t Tell You about Motorcycle Restorations.
1. The cost
Sure, the bike was cheap. I only paid $150 for my Ducati. Parts, however, are not. $100 here, $50 there, $75 over here and soon you’re $1,000 in the hole on your $150 bike. Be careful how you spend because it adds up faster than you think, even if you think really fast.
Shipping cost is another area that you don’t often think about. When you’re stoked about getting that Ï‹ber-rare part at a nice price, don’t forget to look and make sure you aren’t getting shafted on the shipping. I bought a new-old stock piston for my Ducati that cost $200. While that made my butt cheeks clench, the shipping threw me into spastic fit. It cost $14 to ship the piston from Cincinnati, OH to my home in Pittsburgh, PA, a distance of 300 miles. I bought a part from England of similar weight and it cost me $12 to ship it to my door. Yeah, I don’t get it either.
2. Finding parts
If I had purchased a rusty British bike or American bike, I would be up to my ears in restoration parts. No, I had to buy an obscure Italian bike that wasn’t very popular in the U.S. and one that doesn’t have great parts support. All I have to say is: thank God for the Internet.
While the Internet was originally designed by nerds for easy access to porn, it also doubles as an efficient and easy way to buy old motorcycle parts. Thanks to countless EBay sellers across America and from stores in England, Australia and Italy, I have been able to get parts relatively painlessly. I also have to give mad props (does anyone still say that?) to the Ducati guy that sells stuff at Vintage Motorcycle Days at Mid-Ohio every year. You’ve been a life saver. *does chest thump point thing*
3. Surprises
One usually goes into a restoration thinking “a few cans of paint, some metal polish and a bottle of Lucas Oil Treatment and I’ll be done in time for bike night.”
No, you won’t.
No, you’ll find that rust has eaten pits into your frame, the brakes are frozen in place and the seat is home to a colony of rare spiders that PETA won’t let you disturb. You’ll also take the cylinder head off to see why your engine won’t turn only to find a nickel-sized hole in the piston, the same piston that is seized to the bore.
I’m speaking from experience, here, folks. The things you’ll find tearing into an old motorcycle will shock you more than finding out your parents smoked pot (which they did).
I’m speaking from experience, here, folks. The things you’ll find tearing into an old motorcycle will shock you more than finding out your parents smoked pot (which they did).
4. The work
A lot of people glamorize the restoration process but it’s not glamorous at all. It’s really messy and dirty. You will swear, you will break stuff and you'll have to improvise. It does, however, teach you to think and how to deal with unpleasant situations. You can apply the lesson you learn in your garage (or basement) to your life. Wrenchin' and learnin'. I should write a book.
Also, old parts are usually covered in old oil that smells awful and will stay on your hands until the end of time. I once asked an old-time mechanic how to get the oil off my hands. He said I should wash my hands with gasoline. I then asked him what I should wash my hands with to get the smell of gas off and he just looked at me like I was crazy. I’m crazy? You’re the one washing your hands in gas. I hope this guy doesn’t like to use a grill.
Anyway, once your motorcycle has been reduced to bits and your hands resemble those of an Egyptian mummy, it’s time to put everything together. You did remember to take pictures and mark where everything goes, right? Good, now bolt your mess back together. Don’t forget where that wavy washer goes, or which clutch plate goes in first, or where that spring went. The service manual sure isn’t going to tell you.
5. The tools
Having an old bike to restore is a good excuse to buy tools. But don’t think you’re going to get by with a cheap socket set from Sears. Most of my Ducati’s bolts used Allen heads, requiring me to buy Allen keys. Okay, drive to Sears and buy Allen key set. Wait, the fork caps are 12mm Allens and I don’t have that size in my set. Drive back to Sears and buy 12mm Allen key. Wait, the oil plug and the drain plug are 14mm Allens and I don’t have that size in my set. Drive to Sears again and buy 14mm Allen key.
But it doesn’t stop there. Disassembling the engine requires a whole slew of special tools that aren’t produced by Ducati anymore. You need tools to hold the cams, tools to help with timing, tools to remove the valve springs. The Internet can help you find new-production versions of those tools but be prepared to pay a lot for them and for their quality to be on the lower end.
6. Riding your restored bike
Um, I really don’t have much to say about this because I’m nowhere near that point. I imagine it’s very satisfying and I long for that day. Until then, though, I’m going to be down here in my basement trying to find the really small o-ring that went between the cylinder head and the piston barrel. I know it’s around here somewhere. Wait, where does this piece go? Hey, don’t shut the light out on me!
Friday, May 20, 2011
A Few of My Favorite Things
There really is a lot to like about riding a motorcycle. It's exciting, fascinating and wholesome good fun. Well, it might not be wholesome and good if you were in an outlaw biker gang, but I'm sure it would still be fun.
Anyway, I thought I'd share a few reasons why I like motorcycling. Here goes:
1. The character of the motorcycle
Every motorcycle has its own unique character; something you don't get in your average car. British motorcycles have traditionally been brash, sporty and loud. German motorcycles have traditionally been meticulously engineered and smooth as silk. Italian motorcycles are expressive, impractical and reflective of Italy's love for speed and style. Even the Japanese have managed to give their motorcycles character: precision, focus and reliability.
The motorcycles produced by each country reflect their values and ethos and in turn, make each motorcycle an entity unto itself. When you talk to someone about a BMW, a Laverda or a Honda, connections are made between the motorcycle and the country from whence it came. It just goes to show that there is no correct way to build a motorcycle.
2. Being exposed
On a motorcycle, you have nothing around you. You are exposed; part of the environment. In a car, you're surrounded by this large metal box that insulates you from the world in which you are traveling. You view the world moving past your windows almost like you're watching a television. You can see the trees, the weather and the roadkill but you can't experience them. You can't feel the temperature change as you go into a shaded area, you can't feel the cool rain on a hot summer day and you can't smell the three-day-old dead opossum.
Yeah, you can get an open-air experience with a convertible but whenever it gets too hot, cold or rainy, you can put the top up and shut off the world. You don't have that luxury on a motorcycle. You have to adapt, improvise and overcome to deal with whatever nature throws your way.
3. The sound and the fury
Yes, a motorcycle with some loud exhausts annoys the neighbors, aggravates the dog and scares the old ladies, but, man, does it sound good. To go along with the unique character of each motorcycle, the uniqueness of a motorcycle's exhaust note is another beautiful thing. A rabid enthusiast's ear can tell the difference between a BMW flat-twin, a Ducati V-twin, a Harley Big Twin or a Norton parallel twin. Few sounds on Earth can match the high-pitched wail of a Japanese four as it screams to its astronomical redline.
And, because the engine is right in between your knees, you get to experience a bevy of sounds you miss when the engine is buried under a car's hood. You can hear valves clacking, cams spinning and gears whirring. It really is a symphony of sound.
The British term 'flat chat' is in reference to the noise produced by the valvetrain in British motorcycle engines. It seems that when the riders were going as fast as possible on their bikes, there was so much valvetrain noise that it seemed like the engines were talking. That's cool.
4. Simplicity
Two wheels, a gas tank and a seat; what more do you need? Sure there are loaded out barges like Honda Goldwings and Harley-Davidson Electra-Glides that have radios and such but the real draw toward a motorcycle is the utter simplicity of the machine. A proper motorcycle has everything you need and nothing you don't. The simplicity of the motorcycle also manifests when you travel on it. With a lack of storage space, you're forced to take what you absolutely need.
However, the simplicity of the motorcycle is diminishing with our increasingly technological world. Simple carbs have been replaced by complex EFI. Electronic control modules are popping up on new motorcycles like acne on a teenager's face. Still, simplicity remains in motorcycles like the Triumph Bonneville, Royal Enfield Bullet and the iconic Russian Ural.
5. The sense of speed
I often find myself thinking "wow, I'm really moving along, here" only to look down at the speedo and see I'm doing 40 mph. It's really kind of funny. Since you're so close to your surroundings on a motorcycle, the scenery you're moving past fools you into thinking you're going faster than you are. It is kind of sad, though, when you're running up through the gears thinking you're Valentino Rossi and you get passed by a minivan. I mean, not like that's ever happen to me. Nope, that's never happened to me.
6. The jargon
Flat chat. Hoops. Pillion. Clip-ons. Tickover. Mag. Thunper. One lung. Shovel. That's just a few examples of the jargon that comes with riding a motorcycle. Even the motorcycle brands have their own names: Bimmer, Trumpet, Soozook, Yammy, Duke/Duck, Goose, Beeza, Kaw, Hog, Big Red, Velo, Squariel, Triton, Tribsa, Norvin.
Anyway, I thought I'd share a few reasons why I like motorcycling. Here goes:
1. The character of the motorcycle
Every motorcycle has its own unique character; something you don't get in your average car. British motorcycles have traditionally been brash, sporty and loud. German motorcycles have traditionally been meticulously engineered and smooth as silk. Italian motorcycles are expressive, impractical and reflective of Italy's love for speed and style. Even the Japanese have managed to give their motorcycles character: precision, focus and reliability.
The motorcycles produced by each country reflect their values and ethos and in turn, make each motorcycle an entity unto itself. When you talk to someone about a BMW, a Laverda or a Honda, connections are made between the motorcycle and the country from whence it came. It just goes to show that there is no correct way to build a motorcycle.
2. Being exposed
On a motorcycle, you have nothing around you. You are exposed; part of the environment. In a car, you're surrounded by this large metal box that insulates you from the world in which you are traveling. You view the world moving past your windows almost like you're watching a television. You can see the trees, the weather and the roadkill but you can't experience them. You can't feel the temperature change as you go into a shaded area, you can't feel the cool rain on a hot summer day and you can't smell the three-day-old dead opossum.
Yeah, you can get an open-air experience with a convertible but whenever it gets too hot, cold or rainy, you can put the top up and shut off the world. You don't have that luxury on a motorcycle. You have to adapt, improvise and overcome to deal with whatever nature throws your way.
3. The sound and the fury
Yes, a motorcycle with some loud exhausts annoys the neighbors, aggravates the dog and scares the old ladies, but, man, does it sound good. To go along with the unique character of each motorcycle, the uniqueness of a motorcycle's exhaust note is another beautiful thing. A rabid enthusiast's ear can tell the difference between a BMW flat-twin, a Ducati V-twin, a Harley Big Twin or a Norton parallel twin. Few sounds on Earth can match the high-pitched wail of a Japanese four as it screams to its astronomical redline.
And, because the engine is right in between your knees, you get to experience a bevy of sounds you miss when the engine is buried under a car's hood. You can hear valves clacking, cams spinning and gears whirring. It really is a symphony of sound.
The British term 'flat chat' is in reference to the noise produced by the valvetrain in British motorcycle engines. It seems that when the riders were going as fast as possible on their bikes, there was so much valvetrain noise that it seemed like the engines were talking. That's cool.
4. Simplicity
Two wheels, a gas tank and a seat; what more do you need? Sure there are loaded out barges like Honda Goldwings and Harley-Davidson Electra-Glides that have radios and such but the real draw toward a motorcycle is the utter simplicity of the machine. A proper motorcycle has everything you need and nothing you don't. The simplicity of the motorcycle also manifests when you travel on it. With a lack of storage space, you're forced to take what you absolutely need.
However, the simplicity of the motorcycle is diminishing with our increasingly technological world. Simple carbs have been replaced by complex EFI. Electronic control modules are popping up on new motorcycles like acne on a teenager's face. Still, simplicity remains in motorcycles like the Triumph Bonneville, Royal Enfield Bullet and the iconic Russian Ural.
5. The sense of speed
I often find myself thinking "wow, I'm really moving along, here" only to look down at the speedo and see I'm doing 40 mph. It's really kind of funny. Since you're so close to your surroundings on a motorcycle, the scenery you're moving past fools you into thinking you're going faster than you are. It is kind of sad, though, when you're running up through the gears thinking you're Valentino Rossi and you get passed by a minivan. I mean, not like that's ever happen to me. Nope, that's never happened to me.
6. The jargon
Flat chat. Hoops. Pillion. Clip-ons. Tickover. Mag. Thunper. One lung. Shovel. That's just a few examples of the jargon that comes with riding a motorcycle. Even the motorcycle brands have their own names: Bimmer, Trumpet, Soozook, Yammy, Duke/Duck, Goose, Beeza, Kaw, Hog, Big Red, Velo, Squariel, Triton, Tribsa, Norvin.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Suzuki Katana - Two-Wheeled Shark
In the early days of the Japanese superbike era, the bikes really didn't look much different from their weaker siblings. In fact, the early superbikes looked positively dull and ordinary.
That all changed, however, thanks to two Germans and a Swede.
Suzuki's reputation has generally been one of quality and engineering. They have always done things a bit differently, as well. Suzuki tried to join the superbike race with a liquid-cooled two-stroke, the GT750. They also tried to join the burgeoning touring bike segment with the Wankel rotary-powered RE5. Both bikes were strong performers on the road but they couldn't match that performance in the showroom. Eventually, Suzuki joined the club with their own range of four-stroke four-cylinder bikes.
Suzuki's new range, the GS series, received critical acclaim for their balance of speed and handling. Kawasaki's were very fast but their handling was poor. Honda had good handling but sub-par performance. Suzuki had found the magic combination that allowed four-cylinder power without the awful four-cylinder handling.
One thing the GS series didn't have was interesting styling. The GS bikes were styled very conservatively and that gave Suzuki an image of stodginess. Superbikes were supposed to be loud and fast. Suzuki's superbikes looked like Japanese BMWs. Something had to be done.
Enter the aforementioned two Germans and the Swede.
To enhance Suzuki's image, the company hired former BMW stylist Hans Muth to work on some concepts. Muth and his cronies Jan Fellstrom and Hans-Georg Kasten made up Target Design. The three designers worked with the ideas of a sloped forward nose and a fuel tank that blended into the seat. Special emphasis was placed on aerodynamics, especially in high-speed situations. The early concepts were extensively wind tunnel tested in Italy. The original concept, the ED-1, was based around a 650cc engine. In 1980, ED-2 was displayed at the Cologne Motor Show and was now based around a 1,100cc four-cylinder engine from the GS1100.
One-year later, the production version hit the street and the world was never the same. This new superbike, christened Katana, was unlike anything the motorcycling community had ever seen. The nose ended in a sharp point, leading to a square headlight that had a small wind deflector on top of it. The large fuel tank had an offset fuel filler that was styled after fuel fillers used on aircraft. The fuel tank also blended seamlessly right into the seat, which then ended in an abruptly squared-off tail. Rear-set pegs and clip-on handle bars allowed for the classic racing riding position while the rider faced a unique gauge cluster with an overlapping tachometer and speedometer. Silver was the only color offered and the tank came complete with Suzuki on the sides in big, red letters.
Underneath the distinctive styling was a 998cc four-cylinder engine churning out 108hp. Soon the engine was bored out to 1,100cc. With prodigious power and a wide-ratio 5-speed transmission, the Katana was good for speeds over 140mph. Nothing in 1981 could even come close to that kind of speed.
There were a few downsides, though.
The styling of the new Katana was so unlike anything else at the time, the public wasn't sure what to make of it. A riding position straight off the race track was a turn-off for some. Weight was also an issue with the bike weighing over 530lbs ready to ride. By 1984, the Katana was gone from Suzuki's lineup.
The Katana's influence, however, has been felt ever since. Suzuki used elements of the Katana's design in some of it's smaller GS bikes during the eighties. If you look at any superbike in one of today's showrooms, you'll see the gas tank blend seamlessly into the seat just like the Katana's. The Katana evolved into Suzuki's revolutionary GSX-R line that is still produced today. The Katana name was revived in 1988 on a line of sport-touring bikes produced until the early 2000's. The Katana name also appears on a Suzuki scooter.
In terms of production, the original Katana was a blip on motorcycling's radar. In terms of influence, the original Katana was a milestone in motorcycle design. The Katana directly influenced design for over thirty years and helped lead the way toward Suzuki's most well-known model line - the GSX-Rs.
This is a 1982 Suzuki GS1000S Katana. The skinny wheels were standard GS1000 but the rest of the bike was unique. It's easy to see why the Katana caused such a stir. Motorcycle design hasn't been the same since.
That all changed, however, thanks to two Germans and a Swede.
Suzuki's reputation has generally been one of quality and engineering. They have always done things a bit differently, as well. Suzuki tried to join the superbike race with a liquid-cooled two-stroke, the GT750. They also tried to join the burgeoning touring bike segment with the Wankel rotary-powered RE5. Both bikes were strong performers on the road but they couldn't match that performance in the showroom. Eventually, Suzuki joined the club with their own range of four-stroke four-cylinder bikes.
Suzuki's new range, the GS series, received critical acclaim for their balance of speed and handling. Kawasaki's were very fast but their handling was poor. Honda had good handling but sub-par performance. Suzuki had found the magic combination that allowed four-cylinder power without the awful four-cylinder handling.
One thing the GS series didn't have was interesting styling. The GS bikes were styled very conservatively and that gave Suzuki an image of stodginess. Superbikes were supposed to be loud and fast. Suzuki's superbikes looked like Japanese BMWs. Something had to be done.
Enter the aforementioned two Germans and the Swede.
To enhance Suzuki's image, the company hired former BMW stylist Hans Muth to work on some concepts. Muth and his cronies Jan Fellstrom and Hans-Georg Kasten made up Target Design. The three designers worked with the ideas of a sloped forward nose and a fuel tank that blended into the seat. Special emphasis was placed on aerodynamics, especially in high-speed situations. The early concepts were extensively wind tunnel tested in Italy. The original concept, the ED-1, was based around a 650cc engine. In 1980, ED-2 was displayed at the Cologne Motor Show and was now based around a 1,100cc four-cylinder engine from the GS1100.
One-year later, the production version hit the street and the world was never the same. This new superbike, christened Katana, was unlike anything the motorcycling community had ever seen. The nose ended in a sharp point, leading to a square headlight that had a small wind deflector on top of it. The large fuel tank had an offset fuel filler that was styled after fuel fillers used on aircraft. The fuel tank also blended seamlessly right into the seat, which then ended in an abruptly squared-off tail. Rear-set pegs and clip-on handle bars allowed for the classic racing riding position while the rider faced a unique gauge cluster with an overlapping tachometer and speedometer. Silver was the only color offered and the tank came complete with Suzuki on the sides in big, red letters.
Underneath the distinctive styling was a 998cc four-cylinder engine churning out 108hp. Soon the engine was bored out to 1,100cc. With prodigious power and a wide-ratio 5-speed transmission, the Katana was good for speeds over 140mph. Nothing in 1981 could even come close to that kind of speed.
There were a few downsides, though.
The styling of the new Katana was so unlike anything else at the time, the public wasn't sure what to make of it. A riding position straight off the race track was a turn-off for some. Weight was also an issue with the bike weighing over 530lbs ready to ride. By 1984, the Katana was gone from Suzuki's lineup.
The Katana's influence, however, has been felt ever since. Suzuki used elements of the Katana's design in some of it's smaller GS bikes during the eighties. If you look at any superbike in one of today's showrooms, you'll see the gas tank blend seamlessly into the seat just like the Katana's. The Katana evolved into Suzuki's revolutionary GSX-R line that is still produced today. The Katana name was revived in 1988 on a line of sport-touring bikes produced until the early 2000's. The Katana name also appears on a Suzuki scooter.
In terms of production, the original Katana was a blip on motorcycling's radar. In terms of influence, the original Katana was a milestone in motorcycle design. The Katana directly influenced design for over thirty years and helped lead the way toward Suzuki's most well-known model line - the GSX-Rs.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Installation
Continuing the topic of new suspension components, it's time to put the new bits on the bike. This is where the fun really begins.
First, the front suspension has to be disassembled. This means the bike goes up on the jack:
The front wheel has to come off and that requires removing the front brake caliper and speedometer drive. Watch for the speedo cable to come slithering out of its sheathing. After the front wheel is off, the front fender can come off. Wrap the brake caliper over the left turn signal to get it out of the way.
With the front end disassembled, the fork tubes can come out. I did one side at a time to make sure fork alignment stayed the same. Loosen to hex-head bolts on the upper and lower triple clamps and slide the fork out. With the fork out, we head to the basement to swap the internals.
The first step is to take the fork cap off and drain the old fluid. Keep your distance from the fork cap as it is under pressure and will go flying when you loosen it all the way. Remove the stock spacer, washer and spring. Drain the old fluid and compress and release the fork a few times to get as much fluid out as you can. You should be able to fill up a small jar with fluid like this:
According to the instructions provided with the springs, the fluid level has to be 140mm from the top of the fork tube. 140mm is 5.5 inches so grab a ruler and a clamp and measure the fluid. I used 5w fork oil from Bel-Ray.
With the fork oil at the proper level, we can now install the new spring. The new spring is significantly longer than the old spring so a new spacer will have to be cut out of the supplied PVC pipe to get the proper level of preload. Since the spacer decides the amount of preload, its length will have to be calculated. Progressive Suspension provides a handy chart of spacer lengths for different motorcycles. The chart shows 2001-2007 Triumph Bonnevilles requiring a 3-inch spacer. For my 2008, I will have to calculate how long of a spacer I'll need. For now, I'm going with the 3-inch spacer and if it's too much preload, I'll cut it down at a later date.
Here is the new spring, the old spring, the new spacer and the old spacer:
There is quite a difference between them. With the fork back in the vise, place the spring, washer and spacer in the fork tube. Install the fork cap back onto the fork tube. You'll have to push down on the spacer to install the fork cap. The cap is aluminum and the fork tube is steel, so be careful not to muck up the threads as you tighten down on the cap. Don't tighten the cap yet, wait until the fork is back on the bike before doing that.
Back up in the garage, we can now reinstall the fork tube on the bike. Slide the tube up through the triple clamps and make sure the top of the tube (not the top of the cap) is even with the top of the upper triple clamp. Slide the front axle through its hole in the fork bottoms to align it correctly and then tighten the triple clamp bolts. The procedure is the same for the other side. When you are done, the bike should look like this:
Now for the rear shocks. Really, they couldn't be any easier to install. I chose to change them with the bike off the jack because I'm difficult. All you have to do is loosen the bolts on the shock, remove the shock and place the new one on the bike. Tighten the bolts and you're done. You have to do one side at a time and you will have to lift the bike up a bit as it will sag with only one shock unit on. Check out how good the Hagon 2810s look:
Awesome.
Now for the test ride. Initial riding shows the front to be a little stiff. I may adjust the preload via spacer length or I may spring for Thruxton adjustable preload caps. Aside from a little stiffness, the front of the bike is amazing. There's no bounce and no pogo effect; just smooth, progressive dampening. Turn-in is nice and crisp and requires nothing but a nudge on the bars.
The back of the bike is just as good. I started with the shocks on the softest setting and it was too soft. The back felt like a mid-seventies Cadillac - too much float. Two clicks up from soft and all is well. The bike feels secure and planted and all of the harshness is gone.
It's amazing how a few simple changes will totally alter a motorcycle's character. The Bonneville went from jarring and bouncy to smooth and taut. I'll probably play with the suspension settings a little more as time goes on but right now, it's very, very good.
First, the front suspension has to be disassembled. This means the bike goes up on the jack:
The first step is to take the fork cap off and drain the old fluid. Keep your distance from the fork cap as it is under pressure and will go flying when you loosen it all the way. Remove the stock spacer, washer and spring. Drain the old fluid and compress and release the fork a few times to get as much fluid out as you can. You should be able to fill up a small jar with fluid like this:
Here is the new spring, the old spring, the new spacer and the old spacer:
There is quite a difference between them. With the fork back in the vise, place the spring, washer and spacer in the fork tube. Install the fork cap back onto the fork tube. You'll have to push down on the spacer to install the fork cap. The cap is aluminum and the fork tube is steel, so be careful not to muck up the threads as you tighten down on the cap. Don't tighten the cap yet, wait until the fork is back on the bike before doing that.
Back up in the garage, we can now reinstall the fork tube on the bike. Slide the tube up through the triple clamps and make sure the top of the tube (not the top of the cap) is even with the top of the upper triple clamp. Slide the front axle through its hole in the fork bottoms to align it correctly and then tighten the triple clamp bolts. The procedure is the same for the other side. When you are done, the bike should look like this:
Now for the test ride. Initial riding shows the front to be a little stiff. I may adjust the preload via spacer length or I may spring for Thruxton adjustable preload caps. Aside from a little stiffness, the front of the bike is amazing. There's no bounce and no pogo effect; just smooth, progressive dampening. Turn-in is nice and crisp and requires nothing but a nudge on the bars.
The back of the bike is just as good. I started with the shocks on the softest setting and it was too soft. The back felt like a mid-seventies Cadillac - too much float. Two clicks up from soft and all is well. The bike feels secure and planted and all of the harshness is gone.
It's amazing how a few simple changes will totally alter a motorcycle's character. The Bonneville went from jarring and bouncy to smooth and taut. I'll probably play with the suspension settings a little more as time goes on but right now, it's very, very good.
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