With the icy hand of winter strangling my ability to ride, I needed some way to exercise my lust for all things motorcycle.
Luckily for me, Christmas arrived and helped to satiate my lust. Well, maybe it did.
First up among my gifts was a gel seat for my Bonneville. This gel seat comes courtesy of the Triumph accessory catalog and is actually for the Thruxton, a factory cafe racer version of the Bonneville.
Initial tests (i.e., putting it on the fireplace and sitting on it) show it to be more comfortable than the stock plank of wood, I mean, seat. Truth be told, just about anything would be comfortable than the stock Bonneville seat. The stock seat has a comfort range of about, oh, five miles or so before numbness sets in. I'm hoping the gel seat will extend the comfort range deep into the double digits.
Additionally, this seat will allow me to install the accessory rear cowl cover on the seat. Yes, I'm excited about that.
Next up was a much-needed balaclava to help make cold weather rides bearable. It resembles a ski mask but is much lighter and works better as a helmet liner. Plus, if this whole going to work thing doesn't pan out, I can use it as a mask to rob banks. It's a very versatile item.
History alert: the name 'balaclava' comes from the Ukrainian town of Balaklava. During the Crimean War of 1853-1856, knitted balaclavas were passed out to British soldiers to help combat the intense cold weather during the winter months.
Finally, I received a motorcycle from the Lego Technic line. It's a total nerd's delight and I absolutely love it. I've had a thing for Lego's since I was a little kid and I usually receive a new kit every year.
With this motorcycle, it has a working engine, transmission and suspension. You can also build it one of two ways - either as a three-cylinder sport bike (Triumph Daytona, anyone?) or as a V-twin chopper. The chopper even has the traditional exposed primary drive. I built mine as the sport bike, of course.
The first thing you notice is its size. It's freakin' huge! The amount of detail that goes into it and the time it takes to build it are impressive, as well. It's also pretty heavy. I plan to buy another one and build it as the chopper.
You really have to give it up for the Lego engineers. The amount of time that went into the design of this kit had to be staggering. It's also much more complex than the Lego's I had as a kid.
The bad news about all of this stuff is that it did nothing to satiate my lust. In fact, I think it made my lust worse.
I want to go for a ride so bad!
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
More Ducati Updates
The summer and fall months have been highlighted by continued work on my old and rusty Ducati.
I can proudly say now that it's not rusty anymore.
I striped and painted just about every piece that was salvageable. The foot pegs, brake switch bracket, engine mounts and lower steering yoke were all given a nice new coat of shiny black paint. The frame was also taken down to the bare metal and painted the same shade of black. I also purchased new fork tubes and now my forks are together and ready to install.
To look at the bike now, you'd never know it sat outside for a decade or more. Progress is being made, however at a moderate pace.
The real work, though, lies within the engine.
When I first went to look at the bike, I couldn't check to make sure the engine would turn over because the kick-start lever was missing. No worries, I thought, I'll just take the timing cover off and turn the engine with a wrench.
Wrong.
With the timing cover removed, I put a wrench on the nut and it never moved. My worst fear had been realized: the piston was seized to the bore.
With this knowledge, I tore into my Ducati's engine expecting to find the worst and that's exactly what I found. I now know why the bike was parked oh-so-many years ago and I began to regret my purchase.
The piston was not only seized to the bore but it had a nickel-sized hole in it, as well. Moisture had entered the engine through the open carb and seized the piston to the bore. A motorcycle won't run if the piston has a hole in it and so the bike was parked. Ten years later, this schmuck (me) comes along and buys it.
So now I have to remove the center jug section of the head to get the piston out. That involved rotating the crank back and forth to get the jug to separate from the bottom end. Slowly the jug raised off the bottom and I worked it off with a few screwdrivers and wooden shims.
In keeping with my luck, the wrist pin that holds the piston on the connecting rod was blocked by the bore. I couldn't get to it to press it out. The piston was not moving for anybody so I had to break the bottom of the piston to free the wrist pin from the piston. After some hammering and squishing of my fingers, the bottom of the piston came apart and I could separate the jug from the bottom end.
The steel bore liner was cracked and ruined along the bottom and the piston was not going anywhere. I managed to press out the bore liner and I picked up a new one from Classic Ducati in Derbyshire, England. The new liner has to be machined for the head bolts. It's also a little too long and hits the crank. In all, though, having the liner gets me closer to putting the bike back on the road, even if it's only a few millimeters closer.
The rest of the engine looks pretty solid. There is some rust on the crank from the moisture that got in through the carb but other than that, it's clean. The transmission shifts into and out of every gear and I can turn the crank by hand. The clutch plates were rusted together but I was going to replace them, anyway.
Right now, I'm waiting for my alternator puller to arrive so I can split the engine cases. I'd like to disassemble everything and sandblast the cases to get all the calcium off.
My old rusty bike is coming along quite nicely. I hope to breath new life into its once-tired bones and get this bike out on the road. The list of things that still need addressed is long and a bit daunting but nothing I can't handle.
I've got my eyes on the day I can put on my puddling bowl helmet and goggles, hop on the kick-start and ride off to the sweet sound off a Ducati single.
I can proudly say now that it's not rusty anymore.
I striped and painted just about every piece that was salvageable. The foot pegs, brake switch bracket, engine mounts and lower steering yoke were all given a nice new coat of shiny black paint. The frame was also taken down to the bare metal and painted the same shade of black. I also purchased new fork tubes and now my forks are together and ready to install.
To look at the bike now, you'd never know it sat outside for a decade or more. Progress is being made, however at a moderate pace.
The real work, though, lies within the engine.
When I first went to look at the bike, I couldn't check to make sure the engine would turn over because the kick-start lever was missing. No worries, I thought, I'll just take the timing cover off and turn the engine with a wrench.
Wrong.
With the timing cover removed, I put a wrench on the nut and it never moved. My worst fear had been realized: the piston was seized to the bore.
With this knowledge, I tore into my Ducati's engine expecting to find the worst and that's exactly what I found. I now know why the bike was parked oh-so-many years ago and I began to regret my purchase.
The piston was not only seized to the bore but it had a nickel-sized hole in it, as well. Moisture had entered the engine through the open carb and seized the piston to the bore. A motorcycle won't run if the piston has a hole in it and so the bike was parked. Ten years later, this schmuck (me) comes along and buys it.
So now I have to remove the center jug section of the head to get the piston out. That involved rotating the crank back and forth to get the jug to separate from the bottom end. Slowly the jug raised off the bottom and I worked it off with a few screwdrivers and wooden shims.
In keeping with my luck, the wrist pin that holds the piston on the connecting rod was blocked by the bore. I couldn't get to it to press it out. The piston was not moving for anybody so I had to break the bottom of the piston to free the wrist pin from the piston. After some hammering and squishing of my fingers, the bottom of the piston came apart and I could separate the jug from the bottom end.
The steel bore liner was cracked and ruined along the bottom and the piston was not going anywhere. I managed to press out the bore liner and I picked up a new one from Classic Ducati in Derbyshire, England. The new liner has to be machined for the head bolts. It's also a little too long and hits the crank. In all, though, having the liner gets me closer to putting the bike back on the road, even if it's only a few millimeters closer.
The rest of the engine looks pretty solid. There is some rust on the crank from the moisture that got in through the carb but other than that, it's clean. The transmission shifts into and out of every gear and I can turn the crank by hand. The clutch plates were rusted together but I was going to replace them, anyway.
Right now, I'm waiting for my alternator puller to arrive so I can split the engine cases. I'd like to disassemble everything and sandblast the cases to get all the calcium off.
My old rusty bike is coming along quite nicely. I hope to breath new life into its once-tired bones and get this bike out on the road. The list of things that still need addressed is long and a bit daunting but nothing I can't handle.
I've got my eyes on the day I can put on my puddling bowl helmet and goggles, hop on the kick-start and ride off to the sweet sound off a Ducati single.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Ducati Update.
Ever since I picked up my new (old and rusty) Ducati, it has been a flurry of activity.
Parts were taken off and cleaned, broken items were fixed and knuckles were busted. All in all, they were good times.
Now the part begins where real progress is made.
With my awesome new sandblaster, I stripped the rust and paint off of the frame while creating a beach behind my shed. After the paint and rust were removed, I smoothed over the pits with filler and applied a rust-prevention coating over the bare metal. All that's left to do is to get one minor area welded and to primer the frame.
I took this time to pull both wheels to see how bad they were inside.
To my surprise, they weren't bad at all. The friction surface on the rear drum has a few small areas of rust that can be machined out. The rear drum was also a home for a colony of ants that were not too pleased with my disruption of their home. The front drum was in similar condition; minus the ants, of course.
I disassembled the front forks and found the dampening fluid was a strange green color and possessed a horrendous smell.
Aside from the color and the smell, the big problem is rust on the fork tubes. The tube is in good condition in the seal-area but the top has quite a bit of rust. I'm going to blast the tops (I love my sandblaster) and see how it turns out before I shell out $300 for new fork-tubes. I only paid $150 for the whole bike.
Another problem I addressed was the issue of bodywork.
My standard 1965 bodywork was ruined by years of neglect at the hands of Mother Nature. I picked up a used 1967 square-style tank and rear-fender off of Ebay to replace my rusted originals. I'm in the process of blasting (my sandblaster rules) and repainting the bodywork. All that's missing is a matching front fender and a headlight.
I still haven't addressed the issue of my frozen engine or the myriad of parts I need. After the chassis is finished, it's on to the engine.
I think I should be done by, say, 2012. Let's hope; I'd like to ride it before the world ends.
Parts were taken off and cleaned, broken items were fixed and knuckles were busted. All in all, they were good times.
Now the part begins where real progress is made.
With my awesome new sandblaster, I stripped the rust and paint off of the frame while creating a beach behind my shed. After the paint and rust were removed, I smoothed over the pits with filler and applied a rust-prevention coating over the bare metal. All that's left to do is to get one minor area welded and to primer the frame.
I took this time to pull both wheels to see how bad they were inside.
To my surprise, they weren't bad at all. The friction surface on the rear drum has a few small areas of rust that can be machined out. The rear drum was also a home for a colony of ants that were not too pleased with my disruption of their home. The front drum was in similar condition; minus the ants, of course.
I disassembled the front forks and found the dampening fluid was a strange green color and possessed a horrendous smell.
Aside from the color and the smell, the big problem is rust on the fork tubes. The tube is in good condition in the seal-area but the top has quite a bit of rust. I'm going to blast the tops (I love my sandblaster) and see how it turns out before I shell out $300 for new fork-tubes. I only paid $150 for the whole bike.
Another problem I addressed was the issue of bodywork.
My standard 1965 bodywork was ruined by years of neglect at the hands of Mother Nature. I picked up a used 1967 square-style tank and rear-fender off of Ebay to replace my rusted originals. I'm in the process of blasting (my sandblaster rules) and repainting the bodywork. All that's missing is a matching front fender and a headlight.
I still haven't addressed the issue of my frozen engine or the myriad of parts I need. After the chassis is finished, it's on to the engine.
I think I should be done by, say, 2012. Let's hope; I'd like to ride it before the world ends.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
My New Ducati
Common sense tells you to never buy a basket-case.
Common sense says that you'll never break-even with the purchase and it'll be more headache that it's worth. Common sense also says to just buy whatever you want in running condition; it just makes more sense.
So, with my common sense tied to a chair in a dark portion of my brain, I went to look at a Ducati that had been sitting in a junkyard for 10 years or longer.
And I bought it.
And I paid $150 for it.
And it's a basket-case.
I've had a long-standing love affair with the single-cylinder Ducatis from the sixties. I love their styling, I love their bevel-drive engine and I just love their light-weight, nimble handling.
My basket-case single-cylinder Ducati turned out to be a 1965 350 Sebring. 1965 was the first year of production for the 350 and, in classic Italian tradition, was named after Ducati's victory at Sebring International Raceway in Sebring, Florida.
It was pretty rough. The headlight was missing, the wiring was non-existent and the whole bike was covered in a fine coating of rust. The seat was a wreck and the original Silentium muffler was, sadly, corroded beyond repair.
In short, it looks like hell and I don't have any idea if the engine will even turn over because the kick-start lever is missing.
But its condition doesn't matter. When I saw it resting up against that beat-up camping trailer, it tugged at my heartstrings and a few minutes later it was in the back of my truck.
Well, first I needed help getting it in the truck.
The chain was rusted to the rear sprocket and wouldn't turn. Oh, and the rear brake was jammed on. So, with the help of two other guys, we dragged the bike from its resting place and heaved it into the bed of my truck. After strapping the bike down, I was on my way to the fanciful land of Ducati ownership.
Once it was in my garage, I could sit down and look at what I've purchased.
I believe that no matter which bike you buy, whether it's a rusty old Ducati or brand-new superbike, you have to sit down and look the bike over. This way, your mind gets to wander and you can begin to visualize yourself on the bike, or in my case, what the bike will even look like.
Looking at your new bike, you can see yourself riding it, imagine what it will sound like or imagine the scenery you will pass. You can imagine yourself parked by a beautiful overlook with the bike in the forground and a picturesque view in the background. You can imagine yourself tearing up through the gears and you can make the appropriate vroom noises to accompany your fantasy.
Drifting out of the fantasy, the veracity of the bike in front of me hit really hard.
What the hell was I thinking?
I'll tell you what I was thinking: I have to rescue this bike.
I felt so sorry for it that I had to rescue it from its hellish misery and put it back on the road where it belongs.
The last few days have been a flurry of activity. I took a few of the covers off of the engine and was relieved to find it was spotless inside. Even the oil in the crankcase looked alright, though it was really black.
The rust on the tank, fenders and frame looked severe but a few minutes with a wirewheel showed it to be mostly surface rust. There is some minor pitting in a few places but it's nothing that can't be smoothed over and painted.
There is a ton of work that needs to be done to the bike. The wheels are junk, the carb is gunked solid, the exhaust nut is frozen in place, as is the spark plug and it needs a wiring harness, lights and controls.
But I now own a single-cylinder Ducati and therefore, I can't stop smiling.
Well, here's my new Ducati. Not quite as nice as, say, a 999R but it's still a cool bike. Underneath all of that rust is a cool little soon-to-be Italian cafe-racer.
With the bodywork removed you can see that there really isn't much to a Ducati single. I started to grind away some of the rust but I would be there until the end of time. I bought a sand-blaster instead and in a few hours, I had the paint and rust off of the frame and I had myself covered in sand.
Cool. I can't wait until that is polished.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Black Light.
One of the most fun things about owning something is making it yours. The automotive and motorcycle aftermarkets are a testament to that.
What makes modifying even more fun is doing the work yourself on the cheap.
My 2008 Triumph Bonneville is the Black model. That means everything is black; the paint, the engine, everything. Whatever isn't black is chrome.
The headlight on the Bonneville is a big seven-inch bucket of chrome. While it looks nice on its own, it looks out of place on the front of the bike. There are all of these black bits and then there's this big piece of chrome. Mostly, it reflects all of the black around it, so it looks black at a quick glance.
So what I decided to do was paint the bucket part of the headlight black.
I initially wanted to get it powdercoated but that costs money and I'm cheap. I had some primer and satin black spray paint laying around and decided to use that. If it didn't work out, I would then get it powdercoated.
Cheap and fool-proof. I like that!
Let's get to it:
What makes modifying even more fun is doing the work yourself on the cheap.
My 2008 Triumph Bonneville is the Black model. That means everything is black; the paint, the engine, everything. Whatever isn't black is chrome.
The headlight on the Bonneville is a big seven-inch bucket of chrome. While it looks nice on its own, it looks out of place on the front of the bike. There are all of these black bits and then there's this big piece of chrome. Mostly, it reflects all of the black around it, so it looks black at a quick glance.
So what I decided to do was paint the bucket part of the headlight black.
I initially wanted to get it powdercoated but that costs money and I'm cheap. I had some primer and satin black spray paint laying around and decided to use that. If it didn't work out, I would then get it powdercoated.
Cheap and fool-proof. I like that!
Let's get to it:
Here's what the headlight looked like stock. All black and a big blob of chrome.
Right, the tools of the artist. Poor Michaelangelo had to mix his own paints. How easy life has become.
First I needed another headlight. No way was I going to paint my as-yet-unpayed-for headlight, so I did the next best thing: I bought a used one off of Ebay. This was from a wrecked Bonneville that looks like it was in a nasty crash.
I hit the chrome with some 400-grit sandpaper to rough the surface up a bit. I then hit it with some primer. After wet sanding it with 2,000 grit sandpaper, I hit it with primer again. That ripple effect on the bucket used to be a dent. I pounded it out blacksmith-style.
And here is the newly blackened headlight bucket. I painted it, wet-sanded with 2,000-grit sandpaper and then painted it again. Awesome. Now all I have to do is take the old one off.
This is the mess you'll find when you take the headlight off. All of those wires were shoved in the headlight bucket. Should be fun putting them back in because it was fun taking them out.
And now, the finished product. The black bucket definitely looks the business. It fits in better with its surroundings, moreso than the chrome one did.
Modifying your vehicle is fun. It's even more fun when your mods are cheap and they work. For a total investment of around $25, I have a black headlight bucket and a nice new piece of individualization on my motorcycle.
I love it when a plan comes together.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
The More Things Change...
Looking at the new MotoGP race bikes that roll out every year, you have to wonder just how much has changed over the years.
They are all still powered by an internal combustion engine. And since the two-stroke-era is now cold in the grave, the engines are still four-stroke. They still have two wheels and a frame holding the entire works together.
So, what has changed?
Well, everything has.
The items listed above are the only similarities between the ancient Grand Prix motorcycles of the 1950's and the techno-marvels of today. The current crop of MotoGP motorcycles are a breeding ground for the future technologies that will be seen on eventual production models. That's the exact reason manufacturers race in the first place.
To illustrate the differences, let's compare two motorcycles; one from the 1950's, an AJS-7R, and the championship-winning 2008 Yamaha YZR-M1.
The AJS-7R was a 350cc motorcycle built with one thing in mind: racing.
The 7R had a duplex frame made from steel, telescopic front forks and twin rear shocks that stayed pretty much the same throughout its life-span (1948-1963). It also had the standard-issue air-cooled drum brakes and the classic squatted racing position.
The 7R's air-cooled engine went through numerous changes during its racing career. The bore and stroke started at 74x81 and was changed to 75.5x78 in 1956 by privateers. The single-cylinder engine featured an overhead camshaft with two valves for the cylinder. A special version called the AJS-7R3 with a three-valve head was built in 1951 but quickly abandoned.
Behind the engine was a four-speed gearbox.
The single pumped out 32 horsepower initially. The three-valve version offered 36 horsepower. Toward the end of the 7R's production in 1963, it was producing 40 horsepower at 7600-7800rpm and weighing in at 285lbs. Top speed was around 115-120mph.
In extreme contrast, we have the 2008 Yamaha YZR-M1.
The M1's chassis is built around an aluminum delta-box frame with fully-adjustable steering geometry, wheelbase and ride height. The front suspension consists of fully-adjustable, upside-down Ohlins forks. The rear suspension is made up of an aluminum swing-arm and a fully-adjustable Ohlins monoshock.
Providing the appropriate forward propulsion is an 800cc liquid-cooled four-cylinder engine. The valvetrain features dual overhead cams and four-valves-per-cylinder for 16 valves in total. The fuel and spark is provided by a fully-adjustable engine control unit and a fully-adjustable ignition control unit. The coolest part of the engine is the four throttle bodies, one for each cylinder.
This powerplant spits out more than 200 horsepower. Behind it is a six-speed gearbox with, you guessed it, adjustable ratios.
Tossing the anchor are twin 320mm carbon disc front brakes, each with a four-piston Brembo caliper. Out back is a 220mm steel disc with a two-piston caliper.
The M1 also has a wind-tunnel designed fairing that, when combined with the prestigious power, allows for an estimated top speed of 236mph.
236mph! On a motorcycle! Amazing.
All of this adjustability, aluminum and horsepower weighs in at 326lbs.
So what do these specs show us?
They show us that while some things have stayed the same, much of it has changed.
The AJS-7R is a pretty simple machine. It is, for all intents and purposes, a beefed up street model. Aside from the engine, nothing on it is exotic in any way. Telescopic forks and twin rear shocks were pretty commonplace during its production life. The frame is also a ho-hum steel frame, similar to 99% of the street motorcycles produced at the time.
The engine really isn't that exotic either. Overhead cam aside, it's still an air-cooled single-cylinder. The AJS-7R really isn't very much removed from a regular, production motorcycle.
The M1 is a two-wheeled spacecraft in comparison.
Almost everything is adjustable and the frame is of lightweight aluminum specifically designed for the bike. Even the wheels are trick, with them being 16.5 inches front and rear and being made out of carbon fiber.
Add in the extreme horsepower and the insane top speed and you have an exotic piece.
The speed, lightweight materials and adjustability of the YZR-M1 make the AJS-7R look like an ox-cart. Aside from them both being motorcycles, they have nothing in common.
MotoGP bikes will continue to push the envelope because that is what they do. For example, Ducati has used a carbon fiber frame for the past few seasons.
The motorcycle's concept hasn't changed much in the past 100 years but the execution changes at a hurried pace.
They are all still powered by an internal combustion engine. And since the two-stroke-era is now cold in the grave, the engines are still four-stroke. They still have two wheels and a frame holding the entire works together.
So, what has changed?
Well, everything has.
The items listed above are the only similarities between the ancient Grand Prix motorcycles of the 1950's and the techno-marvels of today. The current crop of MotoGP motorcycles are a breeding ground for the future technologies that will be seen on eventual production models. That's the exact reason manufacturers race in the first place.
To illustrate the differences, let's compare two motorcycles; one from the 1950's, an AJS-7R, and the championship-winning 2008 Yamaha YZR-M1.
The AJS-7R was a 350cc motorcycle built with one thing in mind: racing.
The 7R had a duplex frame made from steel, telescopic front forks and twin rear shocks that stayed pretty much the same throughout its life-span (1948-1963). It also had the standard-issue air-cooled drum brakes and the classic squatted racing position.
The 7R's air-cooled engine went through numerous changes during its racing career. The bore and stroke started at 74x81 and was changed to 75.5x78 in 1956 by privateers. The single-cylinder engine featured an overhead camshaft with two valves for the cylinder. A special version called the AJS-7R3 with a three-valve head was built in 1951 but quickly abandoned.
Behind the engine was a four-speed gearbox.
The single pumped out 32 horsepower initially. The three-valve version offered 36 horsepower. Toward the end of the 7R's production in 1963, it was producing 40 horsepower at 7600-7800rpm and weighing in at 285lbs. Top speed was around 115-120mph.
In extreme contrast, we have the 2008 Yamaha YZR-M1.
The M1's chassis is built around an aluminum delta-box frame with fully-adjustable steering geometry, wheelbase and ride height. The front suspension consists of fully-adjustable, upside-down Ohlins forks. The rear suspension is made up of an aluminum swing-arm and a fully-adjustable Ohlins monoshock.
Providing the appropriate forward propulsion is an 800cc liquid-cooled four-cylinder engine. The valvetrain features dual overhead cams and four-valves-per-cylinder for 16 valves in total. The fuel and spark is provided by a fully-adjustable engine control unit and a fully-adjustable ignition control unit. The coolest part of the engine is the four throttle bodies, one for each cylinder.
This powerplant spits out more than 200 horsepower. Behind it is a six-speed gearbox with, you guessed it, adjustable ratios.
Tossing the anchor are twin 320mm carbon disc front brakes, each with a four-piston Brembo caliper. Out back is a 220mm steel disc with a two-piston caliper.
The M1 also has a wind-tunnel designed fairing that, when combined with the prestigious power, allows for an estimated top speed of 236mph.
236mph! On a motorcycle! Amazing.
All of this adjustability, aluminum and horsepower weighs in at 326lbs.
So what do these specs show us?
They show us that while some things have stayed the same, much of it has changed.
The AJS-7R is a pretty simple machine. It is, for all intents and purposes, a beefed up street model. Aside from the engine, nothing on it is exotic in any way. Telescopic forks and twin rear shocks were pretty commonplace during its production life. The frame is also a ho-hum steel frame, similar to 99% of the street motorcycles produced at the time.
The engine really isn't that exotic either. Overhead cam aside, it's still an air-cooled single-cylinder. The AJS-7R really isn't very much removed from a regular, production motorcycle.
The M1 is a two-wheeled spacecraft in comparison.
Almost everything is adjustable and the frame is of lightweight aluminum specifically designed for the bike. Even the wheels are trick, with them being 16.5 inches front and rear and being made out of carbon fiber.
Add in the extreme horsepower and the insane top speed and you have an exotic piece.
The speed, lightweight materials and adjustability of the YZR-M1 make the AJS-7R look like an ox-cart. Aside from them both being motorcycles, they have nothing in common.
MotoGP bikes will continue to push the envelope because that is what they do. For example, Ducati has used a carbon fiber frame for the past few seasons.
The motorcycle's concept hasn't changed much in the past 100 years but the execution changes at a hurried pace.
A 1959 AJS-7R shows what a race bike used to look like. Pretty simple looking, isn't it?
The 2008 Yamaha YZR-M1 illustrates the future of the race bike. That seat looks really comfortable...
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Moto Guzzi Otto.
It's 1955.
You are sitting on the hillside at Reims-Gueux, the public-roads-turned-racing-circuit between Thillois and Gueux in France. Looking down from your spot, you can see turn six, Viragede la Garenne, a treacherous kink in the long back-straight.
Grabbing another slice of cheese, another slice of bread and another sip of wine, you listen to the symphony of machines screaming past you as you dine.
There is the low, rhythmic rumble of the single-cylinder Nortons. Following are the exotic wails of the four-cylinder Gileras and MV Agustas. Next is the low rumble of the single-cylinder Matchless' and the flat-twin BMWs as they battle for position.
Then, you hear a sound so ethereal approaching, it snaps you away from your French mid-day meal in an instant.
Barreling toward you, setting up for the kink in the road, is the oddest-looking motorcycle you have ever seen.
It has a strange green tub of a fairing. It completely covers the entire front of the machine, with only two cooling slots to break up the tub-like styling. A massive clear-plastic windscreen towers up over the rider.
Clinging perilously to the top of the polished aluminum fuel tank is the black-leather-clad rider. He's contorted in the classic racer's position: arms outstretched, clutching the clip-on handle bars, his knees tucked in close to his body and his weight placed over the rear wheel.
As polarizing as the sight of this machine is, it's the sounds that gets you.
It's an other-worldly howl not heard on any racing circuit before. It's the howl of a high number of cylinders spinning at a high number of revs.
As quickly as this seemingly alien craft is upon you, it passes you by. You take one last look as it speeds away, belching fire from the exhausts as the rider upshifts.
All around you, people discuss the sight in a mixture of languages. They all share the same sense of wonder and amazement at the green-and-sliver blur that came howling past.
What you and the rest of the people at Reims-Gueux experienced was the Moto Guzzi V8.
The Moto Guzzi V8 was conceived by Moto Guzzi's cheif engineer, Dr. Giulio Carcano, to not only compete in the ultra-competitive world of Grand Prix racing but to showcase Moto Guzzi's engineering prowess.
Typical racing machines of the day were not too far removed from their street-ridden brethren.
The British were fond of pushrod, air-cooled single-cylinder engines. Italian companies like Gilera and MV Agusta used dual overhead cam, four-cylinder engines that were very high-tech for the time, but still relied on ambient air for cooling. BMW used their flat-twin that was designed in 1923, hardly ground-breaking in 1955.
The Guzzi V8 was on another planet compared to its competition.
The V8 was 499cc (500cc being the maximum for Grand Prix) and featured liquid-cooling, four camshafts (two per bank), eight 20mm Dell'Orto carburetors (one per cylinder) and eight sets of points (again, one set per cylinder).
In race trim, the V8 produced 78 horsepower at a staggering 12,000rpm. Funneling this power to the road was a choice of a four-, five- or six-speed transmission.
One of the most amazing things about the V8 was that all told, it only weighed 99lbs. Total weight for the motorcycle was only 330lbs.
Stuffing an eight-cylinder engine in a motorcycle frame was a feat unto itself. This necessitated a compact design for the V8. All of the components were so tightly packed together, the V8 almost resembled a scale model.
The odd styling was also a necessity. The tub fairing, called a dust-bin at the time, helped the V8 cut through the wind. The six-speed gearbox, low weight and incredible power gave this machine a top speed of 171mph. It wasn't until the seventies that a grand prix machine would be capable of that kind of speed again.
Sadly, while the V8 was an engineering marvel, it was a failure in reality.
With eight carburetors and eight sets of points, it was a high-maintenance nightmare; nevermind the fact that it liked to break crankshafts, seize and overheat. Sometimes all three happened at the same time.
Also, period motorcycle frame design could not cope with 78 horsepower or 171mph. Stopping relied upon out-dated drum brakes that were prone to locking up when applied quickly, overheating in hot temperatures, and being almost murderous in wet weather.
The V8 competed for three seasons, in 1955, 1956 and 1957. The best finish for the Moto Guzzi team was sixth place in 1955, with Englishman Bill Lomas at the V8's helm.
The V8 was just too radical for the time. Chassis and brake technology just couldn't keep up with the V8's speed, making it a very dangerous motorcycle to ride. Fergus Anderson, Moto Guzzi's racing director, crashed the machine on its maiden voyage. Factory rider Ken Kavanagh refused to ride the V8 at Spa-Francorchamps in 1956.
Moto Guzzi pulled out of Grand Prix racing after the 1957 season and the V8's short but breathtaking career was over. Two examples remain in Moto Guzzi's museum in Mandello del Lario, Italy.
It's common speculation that with further development, the V8 could've re-written the Grand Prix history books. As it stands now, The Moto Guzzi V8 is an interesting footnote in the continuous evolution of the motorcycle.
You are sitting on the hillside at Reims-Gueux, the public-roads-turned-racing-circuit between Thillois and Gueux in France. Looking down from your spot, you can see turn six, Viragede la Garenne, a treacherous kink in the long back-straight.
Grabbing another slice of cheese, another slice of bread and another sip of wine, you listen to the symphony of machines screaming past you as you dine.
There is the low, rhythmic rumble of the single-cylinder Nortons. Following are the exotic wails of the four-cylinder Gileras and MV Agustas. Next is the low rumble of the single-cylinder Matchless' and the flat-twin BMWs as they battle for position.
Then, you hear a sound so ethereal approaching, it snaps you away from your French mid-day meal in an instant.
Barreling toward you, setting up for the kink in the road, is the oddest-looking motorcycle you have ever seen.
It has a strange green tub of a fairing. It completely covers the entire front of the machine, with only two cooling slots to break up the tub-like styling. A massive clear-plastic windscreen towers up over the rider.
Clinging perilously to the top of the polished aluminum fuel tank is the black-leather-clad rider. He's contorted in the classic racer's position: arms outstretched, clutching the clip-on handle bars, his knees tucked in close to his body and his weight placed over the rear wheel.
As polarizing as the sight of this machine is, it's the sounds that gets you.
It's an other-worldly howl not heard on any racing circuit before. It's the howl of a high number of cylinders spinning at a high number of revs.
As quickly as this seemingly alien craft is upon you, it passes you by. You take one last look as it speeds away, belching fire from the exhausts as the rider upshifts.
All around you, people discuss the sight in a mixture of languages. They all share the same sense of wonder and amazement at the green-and-sliver blur that came howling past.
What you and the rest of the people at Reims-Gueux experienced was the Moto Guzzi V8.
The Moto Guzzi V8 was conceived by Moto Guzzi's cheif engineer, Dr. Giulio Carcano, to not only compete in the ultra-competitive world of Grand Prix racing but to showcase Moto Guzzi's engineering prowess.
Typical racing machines of the day were not too far removed from their street-ridden brethren.
The British were fond of pushrod, air-cooled single-cylinder engines. Italian companies like Gilera and MV Agusta used dual overhead cam, four-cylinder engines that were very high-tech for the time, but still relied on ambient air for cooling. BMW used their flat-twin that was designed in 1923, hardly ground-breaking in 1955.
The Guzzi V8 was on another planet compared to its competition.
The V8 was 499cc (500cc being the maximum for Grand Prix) and featured liquid-cooling, four camshafts (two per bank), eight 20mm Dell'Orto carburetors (one per cylinder) and eight sets of points (again, one set per cylinder).
In race trim, the V8 produced 78 horsepower at a staggering 12,000rpm. Funneling this power to the road was a choice of a four-, five- or six-speed transmission.
One of the most amazing things about the V8 was that all told, it only weighed 99lbs. Total weight for the motorcycle was only 330lbs.
Stuffing an eight-cylinder engine in a motorcycle frame was a feat unto itself. This necessitated a compact design for the V8. All of the components were so tightly packed together, the V8 almost resembled a scale model.
The odd styling was also a necessity. The tub fairing, called a dust-bin at the time, helped the V8 cut through the wind. The six-speed gearbox, low weight and incredible power gave this machine a top speed of 171mph. It wasn't until the seventies that a grand prix machine would be capable of that kind of speed again.
Sadly, while the V8 was an engineering marvel, it was a failure in reality.
With eight carburetors and eight sets of points, it was a high-maintenance nightmare; nevermind the fact that it liked to break crankshafts, seize and overheat. Sometimes all three happened at the same time.
Also, period motorcycle frame design could not cope with 78 horsepower or 171mph. Stopping relied upon out-dated drum brakes that were prone to locking up when applied quickly, overheating in hot temperatures, and being almost murderous in wet weather.
The V8 competed for three seasons, in 1955, 1956 and 1957. The best finish for the Moto Guzzi team was sixth place in 1955, with Englishman Bill Lomas at the V8's helm.
The V8 was just too radical for the time. Chassis and brake technology just couldn't keep up with the V8's speed, making it a very dangerous motorcycle to ride. Fergus Anderson, Moto Guzzi's racing director, crashed the machine on its maiden voyage. Factory rider Ken Kavanagh refused to ride the V8 at Spa-Francorchamps in 1956.
Moto Guzzi pulled out of Grand Prix racing after the 1957 season and the V8's short but breathtaking career was over. Two examples remain in Moto Guzzi's museum in Mandello del Lario, Italy.
It's common speculation that with further development, the V8 could've re-written the Grand Prix history books. As it stands now, The Moto Guzzi V8 is an interesting footnote in the continuous evolution of the motorcycle.
Definitely not pretty but brutally effective. The V8's dust-bin fairing allowed the machine to cut through the wind toward its top-speed of 171mph.
A triumph of compact proportions, the 499cc V8 was crammed into a motorcyle frame and let loose on the unsuspecting racetracks of Europe.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
The Great Ride.
It's difficult to explain what makes riding a motorcycle so attractive.
You could use cliched terms and phrases like "freedom" and "the wind in your face" but they don't tell the whole story. In fact, they really don't say anything about riding a motorcycle.
It's a completely different experience than driving or riding in a car. In a car, you are just a viewer. You can turn up the heat when it's cold or turn up the A/C went it's hot. The world is passing you by as you drive, isolated in a metal cocoon.
Driving is almost like watching television. You can see the world but you can't interact with it.
When you are on a motorcycle, you are thrust into the world around you.
When it's cold, so are you. When it's hot, so are you. When it rains, you get wet.
You also get to see and experience so much more on a motorcycle. You can see the road surface around you. You get a better and clearer view of the road ahead, as well. Another plus is the completely unobstructed view of the world around you that riding grants you. There aren't any windshield pillars to block your view; no roof to block the view above.
You are not just watching the world pass by your windows. You are actually in the world around you.
I don't want to sound like one of those people who views riding a motorcycle as a religious experience of some sort. Search around and you will find plenty of long-winded speeches about "biker lifestyles" and "staying true", whatever that means. It all sounds way too corny to me.
Simply put, a motorcycle is a simple and fun mode of transportation. It's as elemetal as motorized transport can get. It also happens to be very fun.
And I think that's what I'm trying to say: motorcycling is just plain fun.
That's what makes it great.
You could use cliched terms and phrases like "freedom" and "the wind in your face" but they don't tell the whole story. In fact, they really don't say anything about riding a motorcycle.
It's a completely different experience than driving or riding in a car. In a car, you are just a viewer. You can turn up the heat when it's cold or turn up the A/C went it's hot. The world is passing you by as you drive, isolated in a metal cocoon.
Driving is almost like watching television. You can see the world but you can't interact with it.
When you are on a motorcycle, you are thrust into the world around you.
When it's cold, so are you. When it's hot, so are you. When it rains, you get wet.
You also get to see and experience so much more on a motorcycle. You can see the road surface around you. You get a better and clearer view of the road ahead, as well. Another plus is the completely unobstructed view of the world around you that riding grants you. There aren't any windshield pillars to block your view; no roof to block the view above.
You are not just watching the world pass by your windows. You are actually in the world around you.
I don't want to sound like one of those people who views riding a motorcycle as a religious experience of some sort. Search around and you will find plenty of long-winded speeches about "biker lifestyles" and "staying true", whatever that means. It all sounds way too corny to me.
Simply put, a motorcycle is a simple and fun mode of transportation. It's as elemetal as motorized transport can get. It also happens to be very fun.
And I think that's what I'm trying to say: motorcycling is just plain fun.
That's what makes it great.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Русский Мотоциклы
Russia.
Many things come to mind when Russia is thought about: Communism, Tsars, hockey, extremely cold weather. Maybe bad guys in James Bond movies come to mind.
But what about motorcycles?
Since 1940, the land that brought us Nikita Khrushchev, Pyotr Romanov and Valeri Kharlamov has been manufacturing motorcycles as well.
The Russian motorcycles industry started with five BMW R71s covertly purchased by the Soviet government through Swedish mediators. The BMWs were then brought back to Moscow were they were reverse engineered (i.e. taken apart and copied) by Soviet engineers. The BMW R71 was a ruggedly simple motorcycle and had served the German army well in WWII.
The Soviets wanted a sturdy and highly mobile vehicle and the specifications of the R71 fit the Soviet's needs to a tee. For the R71, BMW took their air-cooled flat twin-cylinder engine, mounted it in a full steel frame and put a shaft final-drive out back.
The cylinder heads stuck out of the frame which aided in engine cooling and longetivity, and the shaft final-drive negated the need for a chain and thus was easier to maintain. The solid steel frame meant the design was very strong and could take the abusive Russian landscape with ease.
In the early part of 1941, the prototype M-72 motorcycle was shown to Josef Stalin and he cleared the motorcycle for production. The motorcycles were intially produced in Moscow but fears of German bombs caused the Soviets to move production to Irbit in the Ural mountains. Production was split between the Irbit Motorcycle Works (IMZ) plant in Irbit and the Gorkiy Motorcycle Plant (GMZ) in the Ukraine. In total, about 10,000 M-72s were produced for the war effort.
During the fifties, the GMZ plant took over war production and the IMZ plant concentrated on civilian models. Motorcycles produced at the IMZ plant were intially sold to developing countries and were branded as IMZ-Ural. The GMZ plant eventually sold their own civillian version of the M-72 under the brand name Dnepr.
Both of these brands sold the majority of their motorcycle equipped with sidecars and even offered two-wheel drive to combat the poor quality of Russian roads. Most of the Ural and Dnepr models are sold within Russia but they do export to Europe, North and South America, Australia and the Middle East.
Ural is by far the largest Russian motorcycle company. Not much has changed in the models offered by Ural since the design of the original M-72. The engine was stroked from the original 650cc to 750cc and electronic fuel injection was added to help meet U.S. EPA requirements. Other major components were sourced from reputable companies. The alternator is from Nippon Denso, the brakes are from Brembo, the forks are from Paoili and the electronics are from Ducati Energia.
All of the models offered in the U.S. come equipped with a sidecar. Ironically, an American-cruiser-style model without a sidecar is offered in other countries. The base Ural-T starts at $9,999 and comes in stylish black paint with red pinstripes. See, and you thought the Russians had no sense of style.
The real party-piece is the two-wheel drive Patrol.
With the flick of a lever, the wheel on the sidecar is engaged and you can now conquer the expanses of Siberia, the vast forests of Tunguska or that snow-covered field across from your house. The Patrol starts at $12,399. It even comes in camo paint.
That may seem like a lot for a motorcycle that isn't very fast or good-looking but it isn't. Sidecars range in price from $3,000 to $6,000. Add in the cost of a motorcycle and you can easily cross the $12,000 barrier. Not only that but you have to get the car attatched and aligned correctly. With a Ural, it's all done for you. All you have to do is get on.
A Ural really is a time piece.
It's a very simple and rugged machine, much like everything else born in Russia. The Russians cannot claim to make the quickest, the highest-tech or the most beautiful motorcycles in the world. The can, however, claim to make the most rugged and really, that's what they needed. Much like the MiG-1, the ZAZ-968 or the Kliment Voroshilov tank, the Ural is built to be simple and effective.
Plus, they're really cool.
Many things come to mind when Russia is thought about: Communism, Tsars, hockey, extremely cold weather. Maybe bad guys in James Bond movies come to mind.
But what about motorcycles?
Since 1940, the land that brought us Nikita Khrushchev, Pyotr Romanov and Valeri Kharlamov has been manufacturing motorcycles as well.
The Russian motorcycles industry started with five BMW R71s covertly purchased by the Soviet government through Swedish mediators. The BMWs were then brought back to Moscow were they were reverse engineered (i.e. taken apart and copied) by Soviet engineers. The BMW R71 was a ruggedly simple motorcycle and had served the German army well in WWII.
The Soviets wanted a sturdy and highly mobile vehicle and the specifications of the R71 fit the Soviet's needs to a tee. For the R71, BMW took their air-cooled flat twin-cylinder engine, mounted it in a full steel frame and put a shaft final-drive out back.
The cylinder heads stuck out of the frame which aided in engine cooling and longetivity, and the shaft final-drive negated the need for a chain and thus was easier to maintain. The solid steel frame meant the design was very strong and could take the abusive Russian landscape with ease.
In the early part of 1941, the prototype M-72 motorcycle was shown to Josef Stalin and he cleared the motorcycle for production. The motorcycles were intially produced in Moscow but fears of German bombs caused the Soviets to move production to Irbit in the Ural mountains. Production was split between the Irbit Motorcycle Works (IMZ) plant in Irbit and the Gorkiy Motorcycle Plant (GMZ) in the Ukraine. In total, about 10,000 M-72s were produced for the war effort.
During the fifties, the GMZ plant took over war production and the IMZ plant concentrated on civilian models. Motorcycles produced at the IMZ plant were intially sold to developing countries and were branded as IMZ-Ural. The GMZ plant eventually sold their own civillian version of the M-72 under the brand name Dnepr.
Both of these brands sold the majority of their motorcycle equipped with sidecars and even offered two-wheel drive to combat the poor quality of Russian roads. Most of the Ural and Dnepr models are sold within Russia but they do export to Europe, North and South America, Australia and the Middle East.
Ural is by far the largest Russian motorcycle company. Not much has changed in the models offered by Ural since the design of the original M-72. The engine was stroked from the original 650cc to 750cc and electronic fuel injection was added to help meet U.S. EPA requirements. Other major components were sourced from reputable companies. The alternator is from Nippon Denso, the brakes are from Brembo, the forks are from Paoili and the electronics are from Ducati Energia.
All of the models offered in the U.S. come equipped with a sidecar. Ironically, an American-cruiser-style model without a sidecar is offered in other countries. The base Ural-T starts at $9,999 and comes in stylish black paint with red pinstripes. See, and you thought the Russians had no sense of style.
The real party-piece is the two-wheel drive Patrol.
With the flick of a lever, the wheel on the sidecar is engaged and you can now conquer the expanses of Siberia, the vast forests of Tunguska or that snow-covered field across from your house. The Patrol starts at $12,399. It even comes in camo paint.
That may seem like a lot for a motorcycle that isn't very fast or good-looking but it isn't. Sidecars range in price from $3,000 to $6,000. Add in the cost of a motorcycle and you can easily cross the $12,000 barrier. Not only that but you have to get the car attatched and aligned correctly. With a Ural, it's all done for you. All you have to do is get on.
A Ural really is a time piece.
It's a very simple and rugged machine, much like everything else born in Russia. The Russians cannot claim to make the quickest, the highest-tech or the most beautiful motorcycles in the world. The can, however, claim to make the most rugged and really, that's what they needed. Much like the MiG-1, the ZAZ-968 or the Kliment Voroshilov tank, the Ural is built to be simple and effective.
Plus, they're really cool.
The rugged M-72. Every motorcycle should come equipped with a gun holster.
The Ural-T is pretty sharp. It looks a bit menacing. Compared to the M-72 above, it really doesn't look that much different, though.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
The Ducati Virus.
There has been a voracious flu virus that has been sweeping the globe since the mid-fifties. It is distingushed by an increased appitite for speed, a love for the color red, a need to perform preventative maintenance and an increased eye for style.
This particular ailment is also known for causing wallet pain, carbon-fiber withdrawl, marriage problems, speaking in tongues and comfort issues.
No, this is not some new version of bird-flu, swine-flu or whatever flu-named-after-an-animal is attcking the globe this week. This is much worse. The bubonic plague? Ha! A mere amateur. It's much more dangerous and debilitating than that.
It's the Ducati Virus.
Once you are infected with the Ducati Virus, all hope is lost. You will never recover. You will forever be a slave to the flashy red machines that come bursting out of the small factory in Bologna, Italy.
And really, it's not a bad way to be.
Ducati is such a passionate company, it's hard not to admire them. Ducati pours everything it has into producing its motorcycles in its own unique way. Ducati's stand out-with their style, exhaust note, history and technology-against the rest of the cookie-cutter sportbikes of the world.
It's hard to believe they started out building modified bicycles.
In the twenties, the Ducati brothers (Adriano, Marcello and Bruno) started an electronics firm. While this was going on, SIATA founder Aldo Farinelli designed a small engine (50cc) that could be placed in a bicycle frame. Ducati bought these engines and created their first model, the Cucciolo, which is Italian for puppy.
Ducati's legend started to grow in the sixties when fabled designer Dr. Fabio Taglioni created the bevel-gear driven overhead cam single cyclinder engine. This engine was available in 250cc, 350cc and 450cc. In the late sxties, the 250cc Mach 1 was the fastest 250cc bike available.
These singles also were available with a new valvetrain setup born from Ducati's racing experience. The Desmondronic valve system did away with the brittle valve springs that were common at the time and replaced them with a mechanical valve system. The opening and closing of the valve was done mechanically by the camshaft. This allowed the engines to rev higher and in turn, make more power.
Besides Mach 1, the other singles had glorious names like Diana, Monza and Sebring. They also had simple flowing lines and a subtle beauty. They definitly were some of the most gorgeous motorcycles ever created.
In the early seventies, Dr. Taglioni was working on a new twin cylinder engine that would eventually become the company's trademark.
Dr. Taglioni kept the upright cylinder from the single already in production and added another cylinder jutting out of the front of the crankcase, thus creating a 90 degree V-twin. Even though this engine is a V-twin, it is often called an L-twin because of its shape. This twin was sold in varients with the Desmo valvetrain and without.
This new 750cc engine found its way into two new models: the 750GT and the 750 Sport. The GT was more of a touring machine with its large tank, two person seat and high handlebars. The Sport was an all-out race replica. It had clip-on handlebars, solo seat and rear set pegs.
The Ducati legend was cemented in the 1972 200 mile race at Imola in Italy. In the capable hands of Englishman Paul Smart and Italian Bruno Spaggiari, Ducati finished one-two, with Smart taking the win.
The most amzing part of the story was that the bikes went from the brain of Dr. Taglioni to the race track in six months. The industry norm is around three years.
This L-twin would stay in production in various models and states of tune until the early eighties, when it was replaced by the new belt driven L-twin in the Pantah models. The Ducati name and the Pantah survived the acquisition by Cagiva and the Ducati Virus was able to spread throughout the eighties. Unfortunately, around this time, Ducati's products were getting to be a little long in the tooth compared to the offerings from Japan.
The nineties saw this remedied when Ducati released the 851 Superbike. This model was a first for Ducati in many ways. It was liquid-cooled, had dual overhead cams, an aluminum frame and electronic fuel injection. Ducati went from a grandfather to a young stud overnight.
The 851 set the base for subsequent Ducati Superbikes like the 888, 916, 996 and the rare 998.
The introduction of the 999 in 2003 saw Ducati, and cheif designer Pierre Terblanche, receive much critcism over its controversial styling. However. there was no controversy over its perfromance: 0-60 in three seconds and a 170mph top speed. This was a very race-oriented machine. Any elements of comfort were nonexistant.
Today, Ducati is the largest Italian motorcycle company.
The company produces 16 models based around five versions of the L-twin. Ducati manufactures entry-level machines like the Monster to make sure people with small budgets can catch the Ducati Virus. For those with deeper pockets, Ducati offers the Superbike range with the 848, 1198, 1198S and the straight-from-the-racetrack 1198R. In between, there are retro machines, nakeds, motards and a tourer.
Like a plague of locusts, Ducati Virus has spread over all parts of the globe. Ducati has built their image on race success, beautiful designs and uncompromising performance.
All that from a bicycle.
This particular ailment is also known for causing wallet pain, carbon-fiber withdrawl, marriage problems, speaking in tongues and comfort issues.
No, this is not some new version of bird-flu, swine-flu or whatever flu-named-after-an-animal is attcking the globe this week. This is much worse. The bubonic plague? Ha! A mere amateur. It's much more dangerous and debilitating than that.
It's the Ducati Virus.
Once you are infected with the Ducati Virus, all hope is lost. You will never recover. You will forever be a slave to the flashy red machines that come bursting out of the small factory in Bologna, Italy.
And really, it's not a bad way to be.
Ducati is such a passionate company, it's hard not to admire them. Ducati pours everything it has into producing its motorcycles in its own unique way. Ducati's stand out-with their style, exhaust note, history and technology-against the rest of the cookie-cutter sportbikes of the world.
It's hard to believe they started out building modified bicycles.
In the twenties, the Ducati brothers (Adriano, Marcello and Bruno) started an electronics firm. While this was going on, SIATA founder Aldo Farinelli designed a small engine (50cc) that could be placed in a bicycle frame. Ducati bought these engines and created their first model, the Cucciolo, which is Italian for puppy.
Ducati's legend started to grow in the sixties when fabled designer Dr. Fabio Taglioni created the bevel-gear driven overhead cam single cyclinder engine. This engine was available in 250cc, 350cc and 450cc. In the late sxties, the 250cc Mach 1 was the fastest 250cc bike available.
These singles also were available with a new valvetrain setup born from Ducati's racing experience. The Desmondronic valve system did away with the brittle valve springs that were common at the time and replaced them with a mechanical valve system. The opening and closing of the valve was done mechanically by the camshaft. This allowed the engines to rev higher and in turn, make more power.
Besides Mach 1, the other singles had glorious names like Diana, Monza and Sebring. They also had simple flowing lines and a subtle beauty. They definitly were some of the most gorgeous motorcycles ever created.
In the early seventies, Dr. Taglioni was working on a new twin cylinder engine that would eventually become the company's trademark.
Dr. Taglioni kept the upright cylinder from the single already in production and added another cylinder jutting out of the front of the crankcase, thus creating a 90 degree V-twin. Even though this engine is a V-twin, it is often called an L-twin because of its shape. This twin was sold in varients with the Desmo valvetrain and without.
This new 750cc engine found its way into two new models: the 750GT and the 750 Sport. The GT was more of a touring machine with its large tank, two person seat and high handlebars. The Sport was an all-out race replica. It had clip-on handlebars, solo seat and rear set pegs.
The Ducati legend was cemented in the 1972 200 mile race at Imola in Italy. In the capable hands of Englishman Paul Smart and Italian Bruno Spaggiari, Ducati finished one-two, with Smart taking the win.
The most amzing part of the story was that the bikes went from the brain of Dr. Taglioni to the race track in six months. The industry norm is around three years.
This L-twin would stay in production in various models and states of tune until the early eighties, when it was replaced by the new belt driven L-twin in the Pantah models. The Ducati name and the Pantah survived the acquisition by Cagiva and the Ducati Virus was able to spread throughout the eighties. Unfortunately, around this time, Ducati's products were getting to be a little long in the tooth compared to the offerings from Japan.
The nineties saw this remedied when Ducati released the 851 Superbike. This model was a first for Ducati in many ways. It was liquid-cooled, had dual overhead cams, an aluminum frame and electronic fuel injection. Ducati went from a grandfather to a young stud overnight.
The 851 set the base for subsequent Ducati Superbikes like the 888, 916, 996 and the rare 998.
The introduction of the 999 in 2003 saw Ducati, and cheif designer Pierre Terblanche, receive much critcism over its controversial styling. However. there was no controversy over its perfromance: 0-60 in three seconds and a 170mph top speed. This was a very race-oriented machine. Any elements of comfort were nonexistant.
Today, Ducati is the largest Italian motorcycle company.
The company produces 16 models based around five versions of the L-twin. Ducati manufactures entry-level machines like the Monster to make sure people with small budgets can catch the Ducati Virus. For those with deeper pockets, Ducati offers the Superbike range with the 848, 1198, 1198S and the straight-from-the-racetrack 1198R. In between, there are retro machines, nakeds, motards and a tourer.
Like a plague of locusts, Ducati Virus has spread over all parts of the globe. Ducati has built their image on race success, beautiful designs and uncompromising performance.
All that from a bicycle.
This is where it all started. 65cc and an estimated 200mpg. Eat that, Toyota Prius!
The 250 Mach 1 was a light-weight rocket. Contemporary tests had this machine top out at 107mph.
Ducati's legend was cemented by the 750 Imola. This machine set the world on its ear and made Ducati a legitimate player in the big bike field.
The 999 was hardly what you would call "Ducatii beautiful." It was Ducati fast, however.
And the modern Ducati rocket, the 1198R Corse. Be prepared for extreme performance: 180hp, adjustable suspension and tons of MotoGP-spec parts. Expect this to be in the $40,000 range. Wow.
Images sourced from Wikipedia and Ducati.com
Friday, March 12, 2010
Lady of Spain
After what seemed like a February straight out of The Day After Tomorrow, Mother Nature decided it was time for spring.
Much to my amazement, the tempurature was already around 50 degrees when I woke up earlier this week. I figured the only real way to celebrate this wonderous change of the season was to hit the road on my Triumph.
Man, it's good to be back!
After looking at all of that snow and longingly looking at my bike while I grab the snow-blower, it was good to be out there. It was good to smell the smells and feel that wind in my face, even if it was still a little chilly.
I didn't head in any particular direction but did end up stopping at a neat little bookstore. And of course, I bought a book about motorcycles.
It's called Spanish Post-War Road and Racing Motorcycles by Mick Walker. It follows the rise and fall of the large Spanish motorcycles companies-Bultaco, Derbi, Montesa, Ossa and Sanglas-and gives a few details about the smaller companies.
Spain's motorcycle industry and history is quite interesting.
The rapid growth of the industry is due in large part to dictator Generalissimo Fransisco Franco's policies. Franco (who is still dead, by the way) placed large controls on imports which allowed the fledgling industry to thrive.
In the 15 or so years following the end of WWII, the Spanish motorcycle industry went from nothing to a major motorcycle-producing power. The Spanish companies also exported their motorcycles to the rest of Europe and to North America in large numbers.
During the 1960's, the motorcycle industry faced an economic downturn and intensified competition from car manufacturers like SEAT. This left only the strong companies like Bultaco, Derbi, Montesa, Ossa and Sanglas in business.
The 1970's signaled the end of the line for the Spanish companies. The nail in the coffin, quite literally, was the death of Franco in 1975. With his death, the strict import regulations were lifted and Spain was flooded with imports. The Spanish were now able to buy larger, faster and better motorcycle from any number of companies.
Slowly, the Spanish marques started to die off or were bought by foreign companies. Ossa and Bultaco were among the first to fold. Montesa was bought by Honda and is still a subsidiary. Mototrans was bought by Yamaha. Derbi is now a subsidiary of Piaggio, the makers of the Vespa scooter.
Today, the largest Spanish-owned motorcycle company is Gas Gas. They were formed with the remnants of Bultaco in 1985. They specialize in motocross and trials motorcycles and are the only Spanish company that still exports to North America.
The Spanish industry was built around a simple premise: cheap, reliable transportation. The majority of the bikes produced during the glory years were quite similar. The formula was: take a simple, small-capacity two-stroke single cylinder engine and build a small, lightweight motorcycle around it.
It's qiute sad to see a once strong and vibrant motorcycle industry such as the Spanish no longer in existance. The Spanish made some unique machines that deserve a place next to the storied marques from Britain, Italy and Germany.
Much to my amazement, the tempurature was already around 50 degrees when I woke up earlier this week. I figured the only real way to celebrate this wonderous change of the season was to hit the road on my Triumph.
Man, it's good to be back!
After looking at all of that snow and longingly looking at my bike while I grab the snow-blower, it was good to be out there. It was good to smell the smells and feel that wind in my face, even if it was still a little chilly.
I didn't head in any particular direction but did end up stopping at a neat little bookstore. And of course, I bought a book about motorcycles.
It's called Spanish Post-War Road and Racing Motorcycles by Mick Walker. It follows the rise and fall of the large Spanish motorcycles companies-Bultaco, Derbi, Montesa, Ossa and Sanglas-and gives a few details about the smaller companies.
Spain's motorcycle industry and history is quite interesting.
The rapid growth of the industry is due in large part to dictator Generalissimo Fransisco Franco's policies. Franco (who is still dead, by the way) placed large controls on imports which allowed the fledgling industry to thrive.
In the 15 or so years following the end of WWII, the Spanish motorcycle industry went from nothing to a major motorcycle-producing power. The Spanish companies also exported their motorcycles to the rest of Europe and to North America in large numbers.
During the 1960's, the motorcycle industry faced an economic downturn and intensified competition from car manufacturers like SEAT. This left only the strong companies like Bultaco, Derbi, Montesa, Ossa and Sanglas in business.
The 1970's signaled the end of the line for the Spanish companies. The nail in the coffin, quite literally, was the death of Franco in 1975. With his death, the strict import regulations were lifted and Spain was flooded with imports. The Spanish were now able to buy larger, faster and better motorcycle from any number of companies.
Slowly, the Spanish marques started to die off or were bought by foreign companies. Ossa and Bultaco were among the first to fold. Montesa was bought by Honda and is still a subsidiary. Mototrans was bought by Yamaha. Derbi is now a subsidiary of Piaggio, the makers of the Vespa scooter.
Today, the largest Spanish-owned motorcycle company is Gas Gas. They were formed with the remnants of Bultaco in 1985. They specialize in motocross and trials motorcycles and are the only Spanish company that still exports to North America.
The Spanish industry was built around a simple premise: cheap, reliable transportation. The majority of the bikes produced during the glory years were quite similar. The formula was: take a simple, small-capacity two-stroke single cylinder engine and build a small, lightweight motorcycle around it.
It's qiute sad to see a once strong and vibrant motorcycle industry such as the Spanish no longer in existance. The Spanish made some unique machines that deserve a place next to the storied marques from Britain, Italy and Germany.
This is a Montesa Impala Sport 250. It has 26 horsepower and a 4 speed gearbox. It's also really good-looking.
This is a 1969 Bultaco Metralla MKII. This could be called Spain's superbike. It had a 244cc single, 27 horsepower and a 5 speed gearbox.
Bikes like this 1974 Bultaco Sherpa T, built during the motocross boom in the 1970s, helped keep the Spaniards on life-support a little longer.
This is a 1965 Ossa 175 Sport. It has very Italian styling, similar to something from MV Agusta or Ducati.
And the modern Spanish motorcycle: a Derbi GPR125. It shares its engine with the Yamaha TZR125. It follows the traditional Spanish motorcyle formula: small single cylinder two-stroke engine surrounded by a lightweight motorcycle. It's good to see some things never change.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Badge Engineering
I have now owned my 2008 Triumph Bonneville for almost two years and I can say it's been two years of bliss. I love this bike. It does everything I need it to do: it's fun, sort-of quick and it looks good. In short, I am going to own this Bonneville for a long time. I may be buried on it.
But there has been one thing that has bugged me since I bought it: the tank badges.
In 2008, Triumph's Bonneville range received electronic fuel injection (EFI) in every market except the U.S., which received EFI in 2009. And with this change came a new gas tank to house the electronic fuel pump. Even though my Bonneville is a carbureted 2008, it has the new tank.
To offset the cost of the EFI, Triumph replaced the metal tank badges with lumps of chromed plastic. I've hated those lumps of chromed plastic since the day I picked up the bike.
But hope lies ahead. You see, Triumph left threaded bolt holes underneath the plastic badges on the 2008 models. They're perfect for mounting metal tank badges. I think you can see where this is going.
I ripped off those horrid lumps of plastic and replaced them with proper, metal tank badges. Finally, those cheap badges are gone!!
Here's how I did it:
But there has been one thing that has bugged me since I bought it: the tank badges.
In 2008, Triumph's Bonneville range received electronic fuel injection (EFI) in every market except the U.S., which received EFI in 2009. And with this change came a new gas tank to house the electronic fuel pump. Even though my Bonneville is a carbureted 2008, it has the new tank.
To offset the cost of the EFI, Triumph replaced the metal tank badges with lumps of chromed plastic. I've hated those lumps of chromed plastic since the day I picked up the bike.
But hope lies ahead. You see, Triumph left threaded bolt holes underneath the plastic badges on the 2008 models. They're perfect for mounting metal tank badges. I think you can see where this is going.
I ripped off those horrid lumps of plastic and replaced them with proper, metal tank badges. Finally, those cheap badges are gone!!
Here's how I did it:
First, I removed the tank from the bike. Look at that ugly thing. Yuk!
After getting the badge loose with some fishing line, I worked it off with a screwdriver and an old CD. Not the best way but it was all I had. Abigail Van Buren thinks it's a good idea.
There you have it: no badge and two bolt holes. Check out the reflection in the tank. Oh no, Thing has grabbed my camera!
And now the tank with the new metal badge. I chose the "garden gate" style from the late fifties/early sixties. These are available as a Triumph accessory for the 2007 and down Bonneville models.
And finally, that lump of plastic in the trash where it belongs. Good riddance!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Dear Honda.
Dear Honda,
I was perusing your United Kingdom website, specifically the motorcycles, and I can't quite explain how lame your United States line-up is in comparison. Where are the stunning naked sportbikes like the CB1300, CB1000, CB600F and the CBF1000?
How come you don't send us your adventure models like the Varadero and the Transalp? Don't say there's no market here because the Kawasaki dealer near me can't keep KLR650's in stock and I don't think BMW has any problems moving R1200GS's.
Which new, fascinating models do we Americans get? How about the CB1000R or the CBF600? No, we get the DN-01 scooter thing and a chopper that's six years too late. Thank you, Honda.
Signed,
Adam Ramunno.
Yes, it seems Honda has forgotten about the U.S. Lame is the only word to describe their line-up of 2010 models.
Similar to a few years ago when they decided that the Civic car line was bought mainly by twenty-something-year-old girls named "Jenny" and didn't need its Formula One-derived suspension, Honda has decided that all Americans want either a cruiser or a sportbike.
This American doesn't want a cruiser or a sportbike. This American wants an up-right riding position, low handlebars, a liquid-cooled four cylinder engine, that you can see, placed across the frame and a nice fairing painted white and red.
This American wants a CB1300S.
The CB1300S has a whole bunch of goodies that make my mouth water: 114 horsepower, fuel injection, four cylinders, 5-speed gearbox, twin cams, 16 valves, and a proper riding position. No bent-over-the gas-tank contortionist position guaranteed to wear you out in five minutes; just a nice comfortable riding position designed to keep you comfortable as you eat up the miles. It even has adjustable front and rear suspension and a seat height low enough for my short legs.
What I like best is the styling. It's no secret I'm a big fan of old bikes and one of my many favorites is the Honda CB1100R from the early eighties. It was a big, loud, heavy rocket built to pound the pavement and obliterate those pesky Suzuki Katana's and Kawasaki GPz's.
The CB1100R came complete with a big four cylinder engine (1,062cc), adjustable suspension, 120 horsepower and very skinny tires. It also came painted in the fabulous Honda colors of white and red. White and red bodywork, red frame, black engine and exhaust-just a sight to behold.
The CB1300S is just as much a sight to behold. It has those same great Honda colors, the same great, big four cylinder engine and the same wonderful four cylinder wail. The modern touches like the wide tires on black aluminum wheels, the pointy fairing design and the aggressive headlamp all mix with the classic styling cues to create one great-looking machine.
The closest thing to the CB1300S on American shores is the Suzuki Bandit 1250S. It has a lot of the same features as the CB1300S and is a big, four cylinder bike with a proper riding position. The problem, aside from being discontinued for 2010, is that it lacks that je ne sais quoi, that certain quality that makes it special. It's forgettable, really. Probably why it was discontinued.
The CB1300S has that certain quality in spades and it really is a shame that it is not for sale here in the U.S. I can't say for sure if it would be a success, I'm probably the only one that wants one, but I can say for sure that Honda should try. I mean, if Honda thinks there is a market for a scooter/sportbike thing like the DN-01, certainly they might think that the CB1300S could survive here.
Honda is a historic motorcycle company who has released tons of great motorcycles over the years. It's kind of sad to look at their line-up today. Honda has been such a large part of the American motorcycling scene that they are almost an American company. I'd like to see them show us some love again and send us some good bikes.
I think we deserve better than the Shadow wannabe Harley that they've been selling for 30 years. I can't be the only one.
I was perusing your United Kingdom website, specifically the motorcycles, and I can't quite explain how lame your United States line-up is in comparison. Where are the stunning naked sportbikes like the CB1300, CB1000, CB600F and the CBF1000?
How come you don't send us your adventure models like the Varadero and the Transalp? Don't say there's no market here because the Kawasaki dealer near me can't keep KLR650's in stock and I don't think BMW has any problems moving R1200GS's.
Which new, fascinating models do we Americans get? How about the CB1000R or the CBF600? No, we get the DN-01 scooter thing and a chopper that's six years too late. Thank you, Honda.
Signed,
Adam Ramunno.
Yes, it seems Honda has forgotten about the U.S. Lame is the only word to describe their line-up of 2010 models.
Similar to a few years ago when they decided that the Civic car line was bought mainly by twenty-something-year-old girls named "Jenny" and didn't need its Formula One-derived suspension, Honda has decided that all Americans want either a cruiser or a sportbike.
This American doesn't want a cruiser or a sportbike. This American wants an up-right riding position, low handlebars, a liquid-cooled four cylinder engine, that you can see, placed across the frame and a nice fairing painted white and red.
This American wants a CB1300S.
The CB1300S has a whole bunch of goodies that make my mouth water: 114 horsepower, fuel injection, four cylinders, 5-speed gearbox, twin cams, 16 valves, and a proper riding position. No bent-over-the gas-tank contortionist position guaranteed to wear you out in five minutes; just a nice comfortable riding position designed to keep you comfortable as you eat up the miles. It even has adjustable front and rear suspension and a seat height low enough for my short legs.
What I like best is the styling. It's no secret I'm a big fan of old bikes and one of my many favorites is the Honda CB1100R from the early eighties. It was a big, loud, heavy rocket built to pound the pavement and obliterate those pesky Suzuki Katana's and Kawasaki GPz's.
The CB1100R came complete with a big four cylinder engine (1,062cc), adjustable suspension, 120 horsepower and very skinny tires. It also came painted in the fabulous Honda colors of white and red. White and red bodywork, red frame, black engine and exhaust-just a sight to behold.
The CB1300S is just as much a sight to behold. It has those same great Honda colors, the same great, big four cylinder engine and the same wonderful four cylinder wail. The modern touches like the wide tires on black aluminum wheels, the pointy fairing design and the aggressive headlamp all mix with the classic styling cues to create one great-looking machine.
The closest thing to the CB1300S on American shores is the Suzuki Bandit 1250S. It has a lot of the same features as the CB1300S and is a big, four cylinder bike with a proper riding position. The problem, aside from being discontinued for 2010, is that it lacks that je ne sais quoi, that certain quality that makes it special. It's forgettable, really. Probably why it was discontinued.
The CB1300S has that certain quality in spades and it really is a shame that it is not for sale here in the U.S. I can't say for sure if it would be a success, I'm probably the only one that wants one, but I can say for sure that Honda should try. I mean, if Honda thinks there is a market for a scooter/sportbike thing like the DN-01, certainly they might think that the CB1300S could survive here.
Honda is a historic motorcycle company who has released tons of great motorcycles over the years. It's kind of sad to look at their line-up today. Honda has been such a large part of the American motorcycling scene that they are almost an American company. I'd like to see them show us some love again and send us some good bikes.
I think we deserve better than the Shadow wannabe Harley that they've been selling for 30 years. I can't be the only one.
What's there not to like about this machine? Classic paint scheme, classic four cylinder layout, and modern performance. You can even get ABS. Yes, please.
Back in the early eighties, this was a monster; big, heavy and fast. Those poor skinny tires had to try and control all of that power and torque. You can definitely see where Honda got their inspiration for the CB1300S. Good choice.
No cool bikes for you! Europe gets the CB1300S and we get the DN-01. Life just isn't fair at times. What is this thing anyway, besides ugly?
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Norton's Return.
I'm just going to come out and say it: the Norton Commando is my favorite motorcycle.
I like all of the different variants of the Commando sold from 1967 until 1977. I like the Hi-Rider chopper wannabe, the Fastback, the Street Scrambler and the Interstate.
My favorite variant is the Roadster, however. It just looks so perfect. It has a small 2.5 gallon gas tank and nice low handlebars. When someone says motorcycle, I think Norton Commando Roadster.
The Roadster shares its 750 and 850 parallel twins with the other Commando variants. The twins had between 51 horsepower and 58 horsepower depending on the state of tune.
Also available was the 750 "Combat" engine with 65 horsepower and high-compression pistons that was pretty fierce.
As with everything from Britain at the time, it had problems, however. The Combat engine had an annoying habit of breaking its pistons and wiping out the main bearings.
The real party-piece of the Commando was its Isolastic frame.
Because a parallel twin engine is basically two single cylinder engines placed next to each other, they are relatively cheap and easy to produce. The problem with the design is vibration. Not an annoying buzz like a power tool but a full on, make-your-arms-go-numb vibration. As you increase the displacement of the twin, the vibration gets worse. Various British manufacturers had to deal with things like broken headlight bulbs and cracked frames due to vibration.
If you've ever seen an old British bike sitting at a stop, you can actually watch the bike move along the ground as it vibrates. When Norton debuted their 750 twin in the Atlas the vibration was appalling.
For the Commando, Norton devised a primitive rubber mounting system for the drivetrain. The engine, transmission and swing arm were "isolated" from the frame in rubber mountings. This meant the twin could vibrate to its heart's content and the rider could enjoy the motorcycle as well as being able to feel his arms.
As with everything from Britain at the time, it had problems, however. As the swing arm (the rear suspension) was mounted in rubber, keeping the system in the proper adjustment is paramount. Too little free-play and the vibration would be back. Too much, and the handling would get very interesting as the swing arm would slide back and forth.
By now you're probably looking at the post title and wondering why I'm talking about an old Norton. Well here's the reason: Norton is back!
Norton was not exempt from the British motorcycle collapse of the 70's and closed its doors in 1977. In the subsequent years, several owners with big dreams and deep pockets have tried to resurrect Norton and failed.
There were some Norton models built in the 80's with Wankel rotary engines but they were expensive and unreliable. An American company called Vintage Rebuilds began producing an 880 Commando based on old Commandos with bored-out engines and modern components in 1995.
Vintage Rebuilds debuted a 961SS Commando with a host of high-tech parts in 2000 but had to shut down operations in 2006 due to money problems. Stuart Garner, an English businessman, has secured the rights to Norton and for the foreseeable future, the company has some security.
I'm not sure how to feel about the 961 Commando, though. It kind of looks like an old Commando, much the same way my new Bonneville looks like an old Bonneville. But then, it really doesn't.
The new Commando has some high-tech stuff like adjustable suspension, big Brembo brakes, a 5-speed gearbox and a whole bunch of carbon fiber bits. But then it also has a full steel frame and a dry-sump, pushrod parallel twin with 80 horsepower. That's not very high-tech.
It really looks like the new Commando was designed by a committee where one half wanted to make a sportbike and the other half wanted to make a retro bike. It looks like in the end they said "screw it, we'll make it both".
It just looks odd.
Oh, yeah, price. You may want to turn away. The base 961 Commando Sport starts at $18,839 and the top-of-the-line 961 Commando SE goes for an eye watering $25,121. Those prices are converted from Great British Pounds to U.S. Dollars.
What?! I'm sorry but those prices are ridiculous.
The Ducati 1198 superbike has adjustable suspension, carbon fiber stuff, Brembo brakes and 170 horsepower for $16,495. Ducati's GT1000 lacks the adjustable suspension and carbon fiber but has Brembo brakes and 92 horsepower for $11,495. Triumph's Thruxton 900 has adjustable suspension and 68 horsepower for $8,799.
If Norton wants to be anything other than an extremely niche brand, it has to have more reasonable pricing. One of the reasons Triumph was able to succeed when it was resurrected in the early 90's was their well designed, up-to-date and affordable products.
It's hard to try and figure out who the new Commando is being marketed to. It doesn't have the speed for the sportbike crowd but it's not retro enough for the retro crowd.
Maybe my opinion is skewed because I love the original Commando so much but I'm not impressed by the new Commando.
An expensive niche product in hard economic times is not a sound business model nor is it a recipe for sustained success. You may sell a few to rich guys with nothing better to spend their money on but what do you do when you run out of rich guys?
Triumph and Ducati have released modernized retro bikes with similar power and equipment for thousands less. It just doesn't make sense.
I'd love to see Norton come back and follow Triumph's model for success but it won't happen until they move out of the niche market and into reality.
I like all of the different variants of the Commando sold from 1967 until 1977. I like the Hi-Rider chopper wannabe, the Fastback, the Street Scrambler and the Interstate.
My favorite variant is the Roadster, however. It just looks so perfect. It has a small 2.5 gallon gas tank and nice low handlebars. When someone says motorcycle, I think Norton Commando Roadster.
The Roadster shares its 750 and 850 parallel twins with the other Commando variants. The twins had between 51 horsepower and 58 horsepower depending on the state of tune.
Also available was the 750 "Combat" engine with 65 horsepower and high-compression pistons that was pretty fierce.
As with everything from Britain at the time, it had problems, however. The Combat engine had an annoying habit of breaking its pistons and wiping out the main bearings.
The real party-piece of the Commando was its Isolastic frame.
Because a parallel twin engine is basically two single cylinder engines placed next to each other, they are relatively cheap and easy to produce. The problem with the design is vibration. Not an annoying buzz like a power tool but a full on, make-your-arms-go-numb vibration. As you increase the displacement of the twin, the vibration gets worse. Various British manufacturers had to deal with things like broken headlight bulbs and cracked frames due to vibration.
If you've ever seen an old British bike sitting at a stop, you can actually watch the bike move along the ground as it vibrates. When Norton debuted their 750 twin in the Atlas the vibration was appalling.
For the Commando, Norton devised a primitive rubber mounting system for the drivetrain. The engine, transmission and swing arm were "isolated" from the frame in rubber mountings. This meant the twin could vibrate to its heart's content and the rider could enjoy the motorcycle as well as being able to feel his arms.
As with everything from Britain at the time, it had problems, however. As the swing arm (the rear suspension) was mounted in rubber, keeping the system in the proper adjustment is paramount. Too little free-play and the vibration would be back. Too much, and the handling would get very interesting as the swing arm would slide back and forth.
By now you're probably looking at the post title and wondering why I'm talking about an old Norton. Well here's the reason: Norton is back!
Norton was not exempt from the British motorcycle collapse of the 70's and closed its doors in 1977. In the subsequent years, several owners with big dreams and deep pockets have tried to resurrect Norton and failed.
There were some Norton models built in the 80's with Wankel rotary engines but they were expensive and unreliable. An American company called Vintage Rebuilds began producing an 880 Commando based on old Commandos with bored-out engines and modern components in 1995.
Vintage Rebuilds debuted a 961SS Commando with a host of high-tech parts in 2000 but had to shut down operations in 2006 due to money problems. Stuart Garner, an English businessman, has secured the rights to Norton and for the foreseeable future, the company has some security.
I'm not sure how to feel about the 961 Commando, though. It kind of looks like an old Commando, much the same way my new Bonneville looks like an old Bonneville. But then, it really doesn't.
The new Commando has some high-tech stuff like adjustable suspension, big Brembo brakes, a 5-speed gearbox and a whole bunch of carbon fiber bits. But then it also has a full steel frame and a dry-sump, pushrod parallel twin with 80 horsepower. That's not very high-tech.
It really looks like the new Commando was designed by a committee where one half wanted to make a sportbike and the other half wanted to make a retro bike. It looks like in the end they said "screw it, we'll make it both".
It just looks odd.
Oh, yeah, price. You may want to turn away. The base 961 Commando Sport starts at $18,839 and the top-of-the-line 961 Commando SE goes for an eye watering $25,121. Those prices are converted from Great British Pounds to U.S. Dollars.
What?! I'm sorry but those prices are ridiculous.
The Ducati 1198 superbike has adjustable suspension, carbon fiber stuff, Brembo brakes and 170 horsepower for $16,495. Ducati's GT1000 lacks the adjustable suspension and carbon fiber but has Brembo brakes and 92 horsepower for $11,495. Triumph's Thruxton 900 has adjustable suspension and 68 horsepower for $8,799.
If Norton wants to be anything other than an extremely niche brand, it has to have more reasonable pricing. One of the reasons Triumph was able to succeed when it was resurrected in the early 90's was their well designed, up-to-date and affordable products.
It's hard to try and figure out who the new Commando is being marketed to. It doesn't have the speed for the sportbike crowd but it's not retro enough for the retro crowd.
Maybe my opinion is skewed because I love the original Commando so much but I'm not impressed by the new Commando.
An expensive niche product in hard economic times is not a sound business model nor is it a recipe for sustained success. You may sell a few to rich guys with nothing better to spend their money on but what do you do when you run out of rich guys?
Triumph and Ducati have released modernized retro bikes with similar power and equipment for thousands less. It just doesn't make sense.
I'd love to see Norton come back and follow Triumph's model for success but it won't happen until they move out of the niche market and into reality.
Perfection defined: a 1973 Norton Commando Roadster 750...
And then oddity defined: the new 961 Commando.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Superbike Genesis.
There is quite a lot of debate among the motorcycling faithful about which bike is the first "superbike". A superbike is a bike that pushes all of the technological boundaries. A superbike is fast, high-tech and serious.
One could point to the Triumph Trident, and its twin the BSA Rocket 3, as the first superbike. When they debuted in 1968, they were the fastest thing you could buy on the road. They were also the first mass-produced multi-cylinder motorcycle of the modern-era.
Those people who say the Trident/Rocket 3 is the first superbike are wrong, however.
One could also point to the Honda CB750 as the first superbike. In 1969, the CB750 was a space-ship in a world of paper airplanes. It had four cylinders, four carbs, the first factory disc brake and cost less than the Triumph/BSA triples. It also had more power too; 67hp for the Honda versus 58hp for the three cylinder Triumph.
Alas, those who say the CB750 is the first superbike are wrong too.
No, to find the first superbike, you have to go further back than 1968. You have to go past the 1959 Triumph Bonneville, past all of the sporting British singles, past the four cylinder Gilera's and the Moto Guzzi V8 and land in the small English town of Stevenage.
In a shed, in 1948, you'll find the first superbike. Here, you'll find genesis.
You'll see the black enamel V-twin matching the black gas tank. There are the polished alloy fenders, four drum brakes and low handlebar. The innovative rear suspension and large, round speedometer catch your eye.
The machine in question is the beginning, the grandfather of all modern superbikes. It is the Vincent Black Shadow.
The Black Shadow was unlike anything on the road in 1948. It featured many innovations that would become standard on superbikes of the future.
The Black Shadow, and the tamer Rapide, had a cantilever rear suspension like you'll find on many modern sportbikes and the Harley-Davidson Softail. Most of the other motorcycles on the road at that time had no rear suspension at all. Your spine was the rear suspension.
The Black Shadow's drivetrain was of unitized, alloy construction when many contemporaries used iron and had a separate engine and transmission. The 1,000cc V-twin had its compression ratio upped and delivered 55hp compared to the Rapide's 45hp.
The powertrain also acted as a stressed member of the frame. The entire motorcycle was basically bolted to the engine. Walk in to any motorcycle dealer and look at their sport models. Guess what you'll find: an alloy, unitized engine as the stressed member of the frame.
The "black" in the Black Shadow's name comes from its all-black appearance. The only other colors on the bike were the polished fenders and the white numbers on the speedometer. It was very menacing, to say the least.
A motorcycle like this is a natural for competition and Vincent did just that with the Black Lightning. Weight was trimmed to 380lbs and the engine was pumped up to 70hp. Race-track domination ensued.
In 1948, American Rollie Free strapped on a bathing suit, jumped on a modified Black Lightning and rode it to a record 150.313mph pass. Two years and several modifications later, Free broke his own record on the same Black Lightning with a 156.58mph pass.
All of this tech came at a price, a high price.
The Black Shadow cost as much as some cars and was never a big seller. Only 1,700 Black Shadows and 31 Black Lightnings were produced before the Vincent factory closed in 1955.
The funny thing is, they're still expensive. Black Shadows typically trade hands for around $100,000 now.
The Vincent Black Shadow is one of those truly great machines. Just as all supercars can trace their roots to the Lamborghini Miura, all superbikes can trace their roots to the Vincent Black Shadow. To call it a legend is to undersell its importance.
The Vincent Black Shadow is the grandfather, the alpha, the genesis of the superbike.
One could point to the Triumph Trident, and its twin the BSA Rocket 3, as the first superbike. When they debuted in 1968, they were the fastest thing you could buy on the road. They were also the first mass-produced multi-cylinder motorcycle of the modern-era.
Those people who say the Trident/Rocket 3 is the first superbike are wrong, however.
One could also point to the Honda CB750 as the first superbike. In 1969, the CB750 was a space-ship in a world of paper airplanes. It had four cylinders, four carbs, the first factory disc brake and cost less than the Triumph/BSA triples. It also had more power too; 67hp for the Honda versus 58hp for the three cylinder Triumph.
Alas, those who say the CB750 is the first superbike are wrong too.
No, to find the first superbike, you have to go further back than 1968. You have to go past the 1959 Triumph Bonneville, past all of the sporting British singles, past the four cylinder Gilera's and the Moto Guzzi V8 and land in the small English town of Stevenage.
In a shed, in 1948, you'll find the first superbike. Here, you'll find genesis.
You'll see the black enamel V-twin matching the black gas tank. There are the polished alloy fenders, four drum brakes and low handlebar. The innovative rear suspension and large, round speedometer catch your eye.
The machine in question is the beginning, the grandfather of all modern superbikes. It is the Vincent Black Shadow.
The Black Shadow was unlike anything on the road in 1948. It featured many innovations that would become standard on superbikes of the future.
The Black Shadow, and the tamer Rapide, had a cantilever rear suspension like you'll find on many modern sportbikes and the Harley-Davidson Softail. Most of the other motorcycles on the road at that time had no rear suspension at all. Your spine was the rear suspension.
The Black Shadow's drivetrain was of unitized, alloy construction when many contemporaries used iron and had a separate engine and transmission. The 1,000cc V-twin had its compression ratio upped and delivered 55hp compared to the Rapide's 45hp.
The powertrain also acted as a stressed member of the frame. The entire motorcycle was basically bolted to the engine. Walk in to any motorcycle dealer and look at their sport models. Guess what you'll find: an alloy, unitized engine as the stressed member of the frame.
The "black" in the Black Shadow's name comes from its all-black appearance. The only other colors on the bike were the polished fenders and the white numbers on the speedometer. It was very menacing, to say the least.
A motorcycle like this is a natural for competition and Vincent did just that with the Black Lightning. Weight was trimmed to 380lbs and the engine was pumped up to 70hp. Race-track domination ensued.
In 1948, American Rollie Free strapped on a bathing suit, jumped on a modified Black Lightning and rode it to a record 150.313mph pass. Two years and several modifications later, Free broke his own record on the same Black Lightning with a 156.58mph pass.
All of this tech came at a price, a high price.
The Black Shadow cost as much as some cars and was never a big seller. Only 1,700 Black Shadows and 31 Black Lightnings were produced before the Vincent factory closed in 1955.
The funny thing is, they're still expensive. Black Shadows typically trade hands for around $100,000 now.
The Vincent Black Shadow is one of those truly great machines. Just as all supercars can trace their roots to the Lamborghini Miura, all superbikes can trace their roots to the Vincent Black Shadow. To call it a legend is to undersell its importance.
The Vincent Black Shadow is the grandfather, the alpha, the genesis of the superbike.
This is a 1950 Vincent Black Shadow Series C. This is the final version of the Black Shadow before Vincent closed its doors in 1955.
This is probably the most famous motorcycle picture ever; Rollie Free making his 150mph pass on a Black Lightning. The story goes he gained 2mph by removing the seat and his clothes. Bravery or insanity? You decide.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Harley-Davidson: A Division.
Many topics in life bring about division in people. Politics, for example, is a big divider; left wing vs. right wing, Democrat vs. Republican, liberal vs. conservative and so on. One of the biggest dividers, at least among motorcycle riders, is Harley-Davidson. Mentioning HD in a conversation opens you up to a wide range of opinions, some good and some bad.
But why? What is it about Harley-Davidson that gets people so rowdy?
I think it boils down to three things: price, technology and image.
I know I'm not exactly delivering Earth-shattering news here, but Harleys are expensive. The Softail Fat Boy Lo starts at $16,299. The Rocker C starts at $19,499. The Electra-Glide Ultra Limited starts at a wallet crushing $24,699. For comparison's sake, a Honda Accord sedan starts at $21,055.
So, what exactly are you paying for? From what I see, you're paying for some metal bits, some paint and lots of chrome. How come Honda, Yamaha, Suzuki and Kawasaki can offer the same metal bits, paint and chrome for thousands upon thousands less?
Next we come to technology. The Harley formula is based on a simple premise: a large-capacity air-cooled V-twin surrounded by chrome. In fact, the engine in those $16,000-plus bikes (and the cheaper Sportster models) traces its roots back to 1936. 1936. That's three years before the outbreak of WWII. That's five years before America entered WWII. What I'm trying to say is, it's old. It's so old, it still uses a dry-sump oiling system and push-rod valve actuation.
Another comparison: The Ducati 848 Superbike cost $13,995 and features fully adjustable suspension (compression, rebound and spring pre-load) front and rear, twin front discs each clamped by a four-piston caliper, 370lb dry weight and an 849cc, liquid-cooled V-twin with four valves per cylinder, dual overhead cams, desmondronic valve actuation and 134 horsepower.
The Fat Boy Lo (nearly $3,000 more) features non-adjustable front forks and pre-load adjustable rear shocks, one front disc with a four-piston caliper, a dry weight of 700lbs (!), and a 1,573cc, air-cooled, two valve, push rod V-twin. Good luck finding a horsepower figure, but I'd guess it's a lot less than the Ducati.
So you're not paying for technology. What this pricing is akin to, is a pick-up truck costing $100,000 and a Ferrari costing $70,000. It just doesn't make sense.
But hang on a bit, what about the V-Rod? Yes, you see, the V-Rod is Harley's go at building a modern musclebike. The V-Rod casts aside the traditional Harley frame and V-twin and uses instead a modern tube frame and a liquid-cooled, dual overhead cam, four valve V-twin that was designed with assistance from Porsche. The 1,250cc engine puts out 123 horsepower. You'd expect the pricing of this modern Harley to be astronomical but it's not. The V-Rod line starts at $14,999. So again I ask, why does granddad's Fat Boy cost over $16,000 when junior's high-tech V-Rod is almost $2,000 less? It boggles the mind.
Image is big thing for any motorcycle manufacturer. Harley-Davidson is no exception. In fact, image can arguably be Harley's biggest selling point.
The image Harley likes to project is one of rugged individualism. Harleys are about blue-jeans, work boots, tattoos, black t-shirts and bandanas. Also factored into the Harley image is the intimidation factor. A black bike with a loud exhaust and a rider covered in black leather can be an intimidating site. Plus there's the whole outlaw-biker-gang image a lot of people associate with Harley-Davidson. The flip-side of that is that more than a few biker gangs, such as the Outlaws and the Pagans, started out riding Triumphs.
So what does all of this mean? Well, it means that understanding the attraction to an expensive, low-tech fashion accessory is difficult. Many people see through the facade and notice the motorcycle under all of the marketing. Some don't and pony up the money to live the "Harley lifestyle". The simple fact is, as long as Harley-Davidson is in business, people will be divided in their opinions.
If you want my opinion (and too bad if you don't), I like Harleys. I like their history, I like their products and I don't like their prices. I hate to use a cliche, but they are what they are and they don't apologize. I have been lusting after a 70's FX shovelhead and a 60's Sportster to go alongside the classic British and Italian bikes in my dream garage. I like unique motorcycles and Harley-Davidson makes unique motorcycles, period.
But why? What is it about Harley-Davidson that gets people so rowdy?
I think it boils down to three things: price, technology and image.
I know I'm not exactly delivering Earth-shattering news here, but Harleys are expensive. The Softail Fat Boy Lo starts at $16,299. The Rocker C starts at $19,499. The Electra-Glide Ultra Limited starts at a wallet crushing $24,699. For comparison's sake, a Honda Accord sedan starts at $21,055.
So, what exactly are you paying for? From what I see, you're paying for some metal bits, some paint and lots of chrome. How come Honda, Yamaha, Suzuki and Kawasaki can offer the same metal bits, paint and chrome for thousands upon thousands less?
Next we come to technology. The Harley formula is based on a simple premise: a large-capacity air-cooled V-twin surrounded by chrome. In fact, the engine in those $16,000-plus bikes (and the cheaper Sportster models) traces its roots back to 1936. 1936. That's three years before the outbreak of WWII. That's five years before America entered WWII. What I'm trying to say is, it's old. It's so old, it still uses a dry-sump oiling system and push-rod valve actuation.
Another comparison: The Ducati 848 Superbike cost $13,995 and features fully adjustable suspension (compression, rebound and spring pre-load) front and rear, twin front discs each clamped by a four-piston caliper, 370lb dry weight and an 849cc, liquid-cooled V-twin with four valves per cylinder, dual overhead cams, desmondronic valve actuation and 134 horsepower.
The Fat Boy Lo (nearly $3,000 more) features non-adjustable front forks and pre-load adjustable rear shocks, one front disc with a four-piston caliper, a dry weight of 700lbs (!), and a 1,573cc, air-cooled, two valve, push rod V-twin. Good luck finding a horsepower figure, but I'd guess it's a lot less than the Ducati.
So you're not paying for technology. What this pricing is akin to, is a pick-up truck costing $100,000 and a Ferrari costing $70,000. It just doesn't make sense.
But hang on a bit, what about the V-Rod? Yes, you see, the V-Rod is Harley's go at building a modern musclebike. The V-Rod casts aside the traditional Harley frame and V-twin and uses instead a modern tube frame and a liquid-cooled, dual overhead cam, four valve V-twin that was designed with assistance from Porsche. The 1,250cc engine puts out 123 horsepower. You'd expect the pricing of this modern Harley to be astronomical but it's not. The V-Rod line starts at $14,999. So again I ask, why does granddad's Fat Boy cost over $16,000 when junior's high-tech V-Rod is almost $2,000 less? It boggles the mind.
Image is big thing for any motorcycle manufacturer. Harley-Davidson is no exception. In fact, image can arguably be Harley's biggest selling point.
The image Harley likes to project is one of rugged individualism. Harleys are about blue-jeans, work boots, tattoos, black t-shirts and bandanas. Also factored into the Harley image is the intimidation factor. A black bike with a loud exhaust and a rider covered in black leather can be an intimidating site. Plus there's the whole outlaw-biker-gang image a lot of people associate with Harley-Davidson. The flip-side of that is that more than a few biker gangs, such as the Outlaws and the Pagans, started out riding Triumphs.
So what does all of this mean? Well, it means that understanding the attraction to an expensive, low-tech fashion accessory is difficult. Many people see through the facade and notice the motorcycle under all of the marketing. Some don't and pony up the money to live the "Harley lifestyle". The simple fact is, as long as Harley-Davidson is in business, people will be divided in their opinions.
If you want my opinion (and too bad if you don't), I like Harleys. I like their history, I like their products and I don't like their prices. I hate to use a cliche, but they are what they are and they don't apologize. I have been lusting after a 70's FX shovelhead and a 60's Sportster to go alongside the classic British and Italian bikes in my dream garage. I like unique motorcycles and Harley-Davidson makes unique motorcycles, period.
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