Looking for a Light Weight Motorcycle

I've been looking for a lightweight bike recently, something with an emphasis on handling.  The motard concept of a dirt bike converted into a sports bike is really appealing due to the low weight of dirt bikes and their strength.  You have to be tough to survive on dirt.  The biggest problem I've encountered in my search has been the copious seat heights of some the bikes.  Frankly, I'm short and motards aren't.

Anyway, I've been looking at the KTM Duke II, the Suzuki DRZ400SM and the Yamaha WR250X.  I want weight under 400 lbs, one cylinder and liquid cooling.  Fuel injection would be nice but is not a requirement. I'm not that interested in balls-out horsepower and I just want a corner carver.  A motard fits this bill nicely.

So, with the requirements above in mind, I bought this:

It's a 2003 Moto Guzzi V11 Sport.

Keen observers will notice that it meets none of my requirements.  It's heavy (500 lbs dry), twin cylinder and air-cooled.  At least it's fuel injected.

I was looking around the Internet and stumbled across this Guzzi for sale at Martin Eurosports in Coopersburg, PA and I was hooked immediately.  The red paint, racer position and throbbing twin sucked me right in.  All thoughts of 30 horsepower motards flew away like birds during the onset of winter.

I took the 6 hours drive a few days ago to look at the bike and was sold before I got out of the car.  It's in extremely good condition with 15,000 miles on the clock.  The previous owner took very good care of the bike, evidenced by the expensive and tasteful mods like the carbon fiber rear fender, Moto Guzzi accessory quarter fairing and Fast by Ferracci silencers.

The heart of the V11 is the 1064cc V-Twin that churns out 91 horsepower and 63 lb/ft of torque.  This engine is traditional Guzzi, from the air-cooling to the pushrod valve actuation to the rightward lurch whenever the throttle is blipped.  The sound and fury emanating from the nice carbon cans is pleasantly growling without being obnoxious.  It sounds like a muscle car.

Sitting behind the engine is a six-speed gearbox, hailed by the motorcycling press as Guzzi's best, sending power to the back wheel via Guzzi's traditional shaft drive.  Holding everything together and on the road is a steel backbone frame and fully adjustable suspension front and rear.  The front wheel gets it bounce from a 40mm Marzocchi fork and the back gets its from a Sachs Boge shock unit. 

Bringing the big red bike to a stop are Brembo brakes front and rear with Guzzi's (again) traditional linked brake system.  The foot pedal actuates the front left and rear brake while the lever control actuates the right front brake.

In all, this bike so unlike me.  Number one, it's red, a color way too flashy for me.  I like dark colors (gray, black, dark blue) and red is too ostentatious for conservative ol' me.   It's also modern in its styling, though it still has a few retro touches.  I prefer the styling of old bikes (one of the reasons I bought my Bonneville) but this Guzzi is very good-looking.

What attracted me to this bike was its Italian heritage (I'm Italian), its unique qualities and its abilities.  It hides its girth well and is just a joy to pilot down a winding road.  Its quirks, like the lurch when you blip the throttle or the rattle of the dry clutch, speak to me in a way that's hard to describe.  They give the bike its own character, something you won't find on any other bike.  Stuff like that drives me wild in a good way.

I'm looking forward to a long relationship with this machine.

Go Small or Go Home

After making a name for itself selling small to mid-size scooters, Italian firm Aprilia has been carving out quite a niche in the sport bike world.  Their initial attempts at full-on sport bikes were considered by some in the press to be cute attempts to join the big boys from Japan and Europe.  The roaring thunder emanating from the Rotax-built twin in the RSV 1000 silenced many of the critics and helped cement Aprilia as a legitimate power in the superbike wars.

But Aprilia's heart is still the small-bore segment.

And there is no more proof of this than their newest small bike, the RS4 125.  The familiar two-stroke is gone as this Aprilia is powered by a liquid-cooled four-stroke single displacing 125cc's and pumping out 16 horsepower.  It also sports a 41 mm inverted fork, four-piston front brakes and a stout aluminum frame.  Topping it off is styling reminiscent of the much larger RSV4 superbike.  The RS4 125 is aimed the teenage rider looking to get his or her feet wet in the sportbike pool. 

Let's go back and focus on something for a bit: 16 horsepower. 

Sixteen. 

Don't let that number fool you into thinking this bike is a few steps above a Power Wheels motorcycle.  This machine is full of serious engineering.


The engine features dry-sump lubrication to save weight and physical engine size.  Lessons learned in World Superbike and GP 125 found their way into the die-cast aluminum chassis, creating a stiff frame that's still light weight.  Clamping the 300 mm front disk is a radially-mounted four-piston caliper.  The exhaust is hung low in the chassis for better mass centralization.  Even the fairing was wind tunnel-tested for maximum aerodynamic efficiency.  The whole package has ready-to-ride wet weight of just 264 lbs. 

That's an amazing spec sheet for a small-bore bike.

Even though this machine is marketed toward 16-year-olds, its serious engineering can make any experienced rider take notice.  It's a bit like a road-legal (in Europe) GP 125 bike much the same way a Ducati Desmosedici is a road-legal MotoGP bike.  The stiff chassis, big brakes and willing engine all combine to get those enthusiast juices flowing. 

Now if it will only come to the U.S.

An almost dead-ringer for an RSV4, the RS4 125 has Italian good looks and charm in spades.

The LCD display mimics those found on larger sportbikes and adds a minimalist touch to the cockpit.  Make no mistake, this bike is all business.

Dining at the Sportster Cafe

It's recently hit me like a ton of bricks: I want to give a Harley-Davidson Sportster the cafe treatment.

For so long, Milwaukee's small V-Twin has been victimized by choppers, bobbers and other people with a welder and too much time on their hands.  And when it's not being cut-up and ruined, the Sportster is passed off as a "girl's bike".  It's a shame, really, because the Sportster really isn't a bad bike.  It may not be the fastest, the most agile or the lightest bike in the world but it has history and character in spades.

As someone who has ridden a few Sportsters, I can say they aren't the most refined motorcycles on the road.  They have a heavy, industrial quality to them that isn't found on other motorcycles.  Everything feels solid, like the gear change, which has a nice thunk to it.  Sportsters are also heavy, weighing in at around 500  pounds or more, depending on model and year.  That weight shows itself in the corners where the Sportster's respectable, if not sporty, handling is displayed.  At it's heart, though, the Sportster is loud, crude and mean.  That's exactly what it should be, even if HD's marketing department is trying to sell the bike to women.

And after 54 years of drag racers, choppers, bobbers, customs and chrome, there really isn't any new ground for the Sportster to cover.

Oh, but there is.

Hiding beneath the chrome is a brilliant cafe bike just waiting to be unleashed, spewing the patented Harley sound on some unsuspecting rockers.  Let's have a look at some cafe'd Sportsters from around the Internet:

This Norley is a nice variation on the Triton theme.  A Triton is a Triumph twin mounted in a Norton Featherbed frame, combining the era's best powertrain (Triumph) with the best chassis (Norton Featherbed).  Norley means it's a Featherbed frame (Nor) with a Harley Sportster powertrain (Ley).  The Manx-style alloy tank and bum-stop seat make it look very period.  I like it.

Another very classic-looking Sportster cafe.  The green is a nice color and I dig the Vincent-style tank badge.  I could ride this and be happy.

I really like this Sportster.  The Manx tank is perfect and the badging is an homage to Vincent/HRD.  Beautiful, I love it.

Willie G. Davidson saw the Sportster's capacity as a cafe bike over 30 years ago when The Motor Company released the XLCR in 1977.  Unfortunately, nobody else saw that capacity and the XLCR was dropped after a two year run due to poor sales.  Now the bike's a collector's item.  Figures.

Roland Sands Design is even getting on the cafe Sportster train with this bike based on a wrecked Nightster.  I like the bike overall, but a few items like the exhaust, the lack of a front fender and the number 3 on the oil tank put me off.

Six Things They Don't Tell You About Motorcycle Restorations

This time last year I was happily hauling home a rusted hulk that was, at one time, a 1965 Ducati 350 Sebring.  I drove home that evening with the image of me putting on an old-school helmet, tromping on the kick start and then tearing off into the horizon to the tune of a thousand fluttering female hearts.  

One year later I have a painted frame, a few other bits with paint on them and an engine spread all over the basement.  With coffee mug in hand, I examine my pile of parts each morning and ask “where the hell does all this stuff go?”

So, with optimistic restorations in mind, I present The Six Things They Don’t Tell You about Motorcycle Restorations.

1. The cost

Sure, the bike was cheap.  I only paid $150 for my Ducati.  Parts, however, are not.  $100 here, $50 there, $75 over here and soon you’re $1,000 in the hole on your $150 bike.  Be careful how you spend because it adds up faster than you think, even if you think really fast.

Shipping cost is another area that you don’t often think about.  When you’re stoked about getting that ϋber-rare part at a nice price, don’t forget to look and make sure you aren’t getting shafted on the shipping.  I bought a new-old stock piston for my Ducati that cost $200.  While that made my butt cheeks clench, the shipping threw me into spastic fit.  It cost $14 to ship the piston from Cincinnati, OH to my home in Pittsburgh, PA, a distance of 300 miles.  I bought a part from England of similar weight and it cost me $12 to ship it to my door.  Yeah, I don’t get it either.

2. Finding parts

If I had purchased a rusty British bike or American bike, I would be up to my ears in restoration parts.  No, I had to buy an obscure Italian bike that wasn’t very popular in the U.S. and one that doesn’t have great parts support.  All I have to say is: thank God for the Internet.  

While the Internet was originally designed by nerds for easy access to porn, it also doubles as an efficient and easy way to buy old motorcycle parts.  Thanks to countless EBay sellers across America and from stores in England, Australia and Italy, I have been able to get parts relatively painlessly.  I also have to give mad props (does anyone still say that?) to the Ducati guy that sells stuff at Vintage Motorcycle Days at Mid-Ohio every year.  You’ve been a life saver. *does chest thump point thing*

3. Surprises

One usually goes into a restoration thinking “a few cans of paint, some metal polish and a bottle of Lucas Oil Treatment and I’ll be done in time for bike night.” 

No, you won’t.

No, you’ll find that rust has eaten pits into your frame, the brakes are frozen in place and the seat is home to a colony of rare spiders that PETA won’t let you disturb.  You’ll also take the cylinder head off to see why your engine won’t turn only to find a nickel-sized hole in the piston, the same piston that is seized to the bore. 

I’m speaking from experience, here, folks.  The things you’ll find tearing into an old motorcycle will shock you more than finding out your parents smoked pot (which they did).

4. The work

A lot of people glamorize the restoration process but it’s not glamorous at all.  It’s really messy and dirty.  You will swear, you will break stuff and you'll have to improvise.  It does, however, teach you to think and how to deal with unpleasant situations.  You can apply the lesson you learn in your garage (or basement) to your life.  Wrenchin' and learnin'.  I should write a book.

Also, old parts are usually covered in old oil that smells awful and will stay on your hands until the end of time.  I once asked an old-time mechanic how to get the oil off my hands.  He said I should wash my hands with gasoline.  I then asked him what I should wash my hands with to get the smell of gas off and he just looked at me like I was crazy.  I’m crazy?  You’re the one washing your hands in gas.  I hope this guy doesn’t like to use a grill.

Anyway, once your motorcycle has been reduced to bits and your hands resemble those of an Egyptian mummy, it’s time to put everything together.  You did remember to take pictures and mark where everything goes, right?  Good, now bolt your mess back together.  Don’t forget where that wavy washer goes, or which clutch plate goes in first, or where that spring went.  The service manual sure isn’t going to tell you.

5. The tools

Having an old bike to restore is a good excuse to buy tools.  But don’t think you’re going to get by with a cheap socket set from Sears.  Most of my Ducati’s bolts used Allen heads, requiring me to buy Allen keys.  Okay, drive to Sears and buy Allen key set.  Wait, the fork caps are 12mm Allens and I don’t have that size in my set.  Drive back to Sears and buy 12mm Allen key.  Wait, the oil plug and the drain plug are 14mm Allens and I don’t have that size in my set.  Drive to Sears again and buy 14mm Allen key.

But it doesn’t stop there.  Disassembling the engine requires a whole slew of special tools that aren’t produced by Ducati anymore.  You need tools to hold the cams, tools to help with timing, tools to remove the valve springs.  The Internet can help you find new-production versions of those tools but be prepared to pay a lot for them and for their quality to be on the lower end.

6. Riding your restored bike

Um, I really don’t have much to say about this because I’m nowhere near that point.  I imagine it’s very satisfying and I long for that day.  Until then, though, I’m going to be down here in my basement trying to find the really small o-ring that went between the cylinder head and the piston barrel.  I know it’s around here somewhere.  Wait, where does this piece go?  Hey, don’t shut the light out on me!

A Few of My Favorite Things

There really is a lot to like about riding a motorcycle.  It's exciting, fascinating and wholesome good fun.  Well, it might not be wholesome and good if you were in an outlaw biker gang, but I'm sure it would still be fun.

Anyway, I thought I'd share a few reasons why I like motorcycling.  Here goes:

1. The character of the motorcycle

Every motorcycle has its own unique character; something you don't get in your average car.  British motorcycles have traditionally been brash, sporty and loud.  German motorcycles have traditionally been meticulously engineered and smooth as silk.  Italian motorcycles are expressive, impractical and reflective of Italy's love for speed and style.  Even the Japanese have managed to give their motorcycles character: precision, focus and reliability.

The motorcycles produced by each country reflect their values and ethos and in turn, make each motorcycle an entity unto itself.  When you talk to someone about a BMW, a Laverda or a Honda, connections are made between the motorcycle and the country from whence it came.  It just goes to show that there is no correct way to build a motorcycle.

2. Being exposed

On a motorcycle, you have nothing around you.  You are exposed; part of the environment.  In a car, you're surrounded by this large metal box that insulates you from the world in which you are traveling.  You view the world moving past your windows almost like you're watching a television.  You can see the trees, the weather and the roadkill but you can't experience them.  You can't feel the temperature change as you go into a shaded area, you can't feel the cool rain on a hot summer day and you can't smell the three-day-old dead opossum. 

Yeah, you can get an open-air experience with a convertible but whenever it gets too hot, cold or rainy, you can put the top up and shut off the world.  You don't have that luxury on a motorcycle.  You have to adapt, improvise and overcome to deal with whatever nature throws your way.

3. The sound and the fury

Yes, a motorcycle with some loud exhausts annoys the neighbors, aggravates the dog and scares the old ladies, but, man, does it sound good.  To go along with the unique character of each motorcycle, the uniqueness of a motorcycle's exhaust note is another beautiful thing.  A rabid enthusiast's ear can tell the difference between a BMW flat-twin, a Ducati V-twin, a Harley Big Twin or a Norton parallel twin.  Few sounds on Earth can match the high-pitched wail of a Japanese four as it screams to its astronomical redline.

And, because the engine is right in between your knees, you get to experience a bevy of sounds you miss when the engine is buried under a car's hood.  You can hear valves clacking, cams spinning and gears whirring.  It really is a symphony of sound.

The British term 'flat chat' is in reference to the noise produced by the valvetrain in British motorcycle engines.  It seems that when the riders were going as fast as possible on their bikes, there was so much valvetrain noise that it seemed like the engines were talking.  That's cool.

4. Simplicity

Two wheels, a gas tank and a seat; what more do you need?  Sure there are loaded out barges like Honda Goldwings and Harley-Davidson Electra-Glides that have radios and such but the real draw toward a motorcycle is the utter simplicity of the machine.  A proper motorcycle has everything you need and nothing you don't.  The simplicity of the motorcycle also manifests when you travel on it.  With a lack of storage space, you're forced to take what you absolutely need.

However, the simplicity of the motorcycle is diminishing with our increasingly technological world.  Simple carbs have been replaced by complex EFI.  Electronic control modules are popping up on new motorcycles like acne on a teenager's face.   Still, simplicity remains in motorcycles like the Triumph Bonneville, Royal Enfield Bullet and the iconic Russian Ural.

5. The sense of speed

I often find myself thinking "wow, I'm really moving along, here" only to look down at the speedo and see I'm doing 40 mph.  It's really kind of funny.  Since you're so close to your surroundings on a motorcycle, the scenery you're moving past fools you into thinking you're going faster than you are.  It is kind of sad, though, when you're running up through the gears thinking you're Valentino Rossi and you get passed by a minivan.  I mean, not like that's ever happen to me.  Nope, that's never happened to me.

6. The jargon

Flat chat.  Hoops.  Pillion.  Clip-ons.  Tickover.  Mag.  Thunper.  One lung.  Shovel.  That's just a few examples of the jargon that comes with riding a motorcycle.  Even the motorcycle brands have their own names: Bimmer, Trumpet, Soozook, Yammy, Duke/Duck, Goose, Beeza, Kaw, Hog, Big Red, Velo, Squariel, Triton, Tribsa, Norvin.

Suzuki Katana - Two-Wheeled Shark

In the early days of the Japanese superbike era, the bikes really didn't look much different from their weaker siblings.  In fact, the early superbikes looked positively dull and ordinary.

That all changed, however, thanks to two Germans and a Swede.

Suzuki's reputation has generally been one of quality and engineering.  They have always done things a bit differently, as well.  Suzuki tried to join the superbike race with a liquid-cooled two-stroke, the GT750.  They also tried to join the burgeoning touring bike segment with the Wankel rotary-powered RE5.  Both bikes were strong performers on the road but they couldn't match that performance in the showroom.  Eventually, Suzuki joined the club with their own range of four-stroke four-cylinder bikes.

Suzuki's new range, the GS series, received critical acclaim for their balance of speed and handling.  Kawasaki's were very fast but their handling was poor.  Honda had good handling but sub-par performance.  Suzuki had found the magic combination that allowed four-cylinder power without the awful four-cylinder handling.

One thing the GS series didn't have was interesting styling.  The GS bikes were styled very conservatively and that gave Suzuki an image of stodginess.  Superbikes were supposed to be loud and fast.  Suzuki's superbikes looked like Japanese BMWs.  Something had to be done.

Enter the aforementioned two Germans and the Swede. 

To enhance Suzuki's image, the company hired former BMW stylist Hans Muth to work on some concepts.  Muth and his cronies Jan Fellstrom and Hans-Georg Kasten made up Target Design.  The three designers worked with the ideas of a sloped forward nose and a fuel tank that blended into the seat.  Special emphasis was placed on aerodynamics, especially in high-speed situations.  The early concepts were extensively wind tunnel tested in Italy.  The original concept, the ED-1, was based around a 650cc engine.  In 1980, ED-2 was displayed at the Cologne Motor Show and was now based around a 1,100cc four-cylinder engine from the GS1100. 

One-year later, the production version hit the street and the world was never the same.  This new superbike, christened Katana, was unlike anything the motorcycling community had ever seen.  The nose ended in a sharp point, leading to a square headlight that had a small wind deflector on top of it.  The large fuel tank had an offset fuel filler that was styled after fuel fillers used on aircraft.  The fuel tank also blended seamlessly right into the seat, which then ended in an abruptly squared-off tail.  Rear-set pegs and clip-on handle bars allowed for the classic racing riding position while the rider faced a unique gauge cluster with an overlapping tachometer and speedometer.  Silver was the only color offered and the tank came complete with Suzuki on the sides in big, red letters.

Underneath the distinctive styling was a 998cc four-cylinder engine churning out 108hp.  Soon the engine was bored out to 1,100cc.  With prodigious power and a wide-ratio 5-speed transmission, the Katana was good for speeds over 140mph.  Nothing in 1981 could even come close to that kind of speed.

There were a few downsides, though.

The styling of the new Katana was so unlike anything else at the time, the public wasn't sure what to make of it.  A riding position straight off the race track was a turn-off for some.  Weight was also an issue with the bike weighing over 530lbs ready to ride.  By 1984, the Katana was gone from Suzuki's lineup.

The Katana's influence, however, has been felt ever since.  Suzuki used elements of the Katana's design in some of it's smaller GS bikes during the eighties.  If you look at any superbike in one of today's showrooms, you'll see the gas tank blend seamlessly into the seat just like the Katana's.  The Katana evolved into Suzuki's revolutionary GSX-R line that is still produced today.  The Katana name was revived in 1988 on a line of sport-touring bikes produced until the early 2000's.  The Katana name also appears on a Suzuki scooter.

In terms of production, the original Katana was a blip on motorcycling's radar.  In terms of influence, the original Katana was a milestone in motorcycle design.  The Katana directly influenced design for over thirty years and helped lead the way toward Suzuki's most well-known model line - the GSX-Rs.

This is a 1982 Suzuki GS1000S Katana.  The skinny wheels were standard GS1000 but the rest of the bike was unique.  It's easy to see why the Katana caused such a stir.  Motorcycle design hasn't been the same since.
 

Installation

Continuing the topic of new suspension components, it's time to put the new bits on the bike.  This is where the fun really begins.

First, the front suspension has to be disassembled.  This means the bike goes up on the jack:

The front wheel has to come off and that requires removing the front brake caliper and speedometer drive.  Watch for the speedo cable to come slithering out of its sheathing.  After the front wheel is off, the front fender can come off.  Wrap the brake caliper over the left turn signal to get it out of the way.

With the front end disassembled, the fork tubes can come out.  I did one side at a time to make sure fork alignment stayed the same.  Loosen to hex-head bolts on the upper and lower triple clamps and slide the fork out.  With the fork out, we head to the basement to swap the internals.

The first step is to take the fork cap off and drain the old fluid.  Keep your distance from the fork cap as it is under pressure and will go flying when you loosen it all the way.  Remove the stock spacer, washer and spring.  Drain the old fluid and compress and release the fork a few times to get as much fluid out as you can.  You should be able to fill up a small jar with fluid like this:

According to the instructions provided with the springs, the fluid level has to be 140mm from the top of the fork tube.  140mm is 5.5 inches so grab a ruler and a clamp and measure the fluid.  I used 5w fork oil from Bel-Ray.

With the fork oil at the proper level, we can now install the new spring.  The new spring is significantly longer than the old spring so a new spacer will have to be cut out of the supplied PVC pipe to get the proper level of preload.  Since the spacer decides the amount of preload, its length will have to be calculated.  Progressive Suspension provides a handy chart of spacer lengths for different motorcycles.  The chart shows 2001-2007 Triumph Bonnevilles requiring a 3-inch spacer.  For my 2008, I will have to calculate how long of a spacer I'll need.  For now, I'm going with the 3-inch spacer and if it's too much preload, I'll cut it down at a later date. 

Here is the new spring, the old spring, the new spacer and the old spacer:

There is quite a difference between them.  With the fork back in the vise, place the spring, washer and spacer in the fork tube.  Install the fork cap back onto the fork tube.  You'll have to push down on the spacer to install the fork cap.  The cap is aluminum and the fork tube is steel, so be careful not to muck up the threads as you tighten down on the cap.  Don't tighten the cap yet, wait until the fork is back on the bike before doing that.

Back up in the garage, we can now reinstall the fork tube on the bike.  Slide the tube up through the triple clamps and make sure the top of the tube (not the top of the cap) is even with the top of the upper triple clamp.  Slide the front axle through its hole in the fork bottoms to align it correctly and then tighten the triple clamp bolts.  The procedure is the same for the other side.  When you are done, the bike should look like this:

Now for the rear shocks.  Really, they couldn't be any easier to install.  I chose to change them with the bike off the jack because I'm difficult.  All you have to do is loosen the bolts on the shock, remove the shock and place the new one on the bike.  Tighten the bolts and you're done.  You have to do one side at a time and you will have to lift the bike up a bit as it will sag with only one shock unit on.  Check out how good the Hagon 2810s look:

Awesome.

Now for the test ride.   Initial riding shows the front to be a little stiff.  I may adjust the preload via spacer length or I may spring for Thruxton adjustable preload caps.  Aside from a little stiffness, the front of the bike is amazing.  There's no bounce and no pogo effect; just smooth, progressive dampening.  Turn-in is nice and crisp and requires nothing but a nudge on the bars.

The back of the bike is just as good.  I started with the shocks on the softest setting and it was too soft.  The back felt like a mid-seventies Cadillac - too much float.  Two clicks up from soft and all is well.  The bike feels secure and planted and all of the harshness is gone.

It's amazing how a few simple changes will totally alter a motorcycle's character.  The Bonneville went from jarring and bouncy to smooth and taut.  I'll probably play with the suspension settings a little more as time goes on but right now, it's very, very good.