I went to see a 1976 Morini Sport not sure what to expect. What I saw was a corroded mess with an engine that would not turn over. I could see that its chassis might have its uses, most of the corrosion was surface rust - I had a crashed XL250 in the garage, thought its engine would fit straight in to make a cheap hack. Everything looked straight, so it was just a matter of how cheaply I could buy it. £125 was eventually agreed.
The Morini possesses a neat little OHV, 72 degree vee twin that the marque's zealots insist is a gem. I've always thought that the rear cylinder on such aircooled vees must be susceptible to overheating, expected to find that the rear piston had melted into the bore. I thought I might as well take a look at the engine; sometimes you get lucky and it would surely be better to do a minor engine rebuild than try to fit a different motor.
The Morini drives its camshaft with a rubber belt which has a life of less than 10,000 miles. Mine had snapped. Further investigation revealed that a couple of valves had whacked the piston heads. The speedo read only 18000 miles, so the bores and crank bearings were fine. There was no great hurry so I was happy enough to pick up some used valves and pistons after about a month. I knew one Morini owner, who knew another one, and so on.....once word was put out it filtered through the small world of Morini devotees until someone got back to me. I had dropped dark hints about fitting the XL engine to my friend, so that sacrilege put some pressure on 'em!
Whilst waiting, I cleaned up the chassis, replaced all the bearings (loose, pitted and totally devoid of any grease), fitted nylon lined cables and tore out all of the sphagetti wiring. Jap switches had already been fitted so it was just a matter of new wires, regulator/rectifier unit (Superdream) and making some more space for a decent sized car battery. I find this kind of thing fun and it costs next to nothing.
Morinis are straightforward to work on, I had no problems with the final reassembly. The engine refused to start, but I expected that. The kickstart action is horrible, so I dragged a couple of neighbours away from their lawn mowers. They weren't very fit but after half an hour of struggling the Morini barked into life.
Barked? It was an unearthly howl, the on-off chokes making it tickover at 3500rpm. The exhausts had rusted away until they were of the straight through variety. By the time I'd switched the bugger off a massive brute of a dog had charged straight through a wooden fence as if it didn't exist, suddenly startled to a halt by the lack of noise. It looked completely demented until its owner, a tiny widow, came out and cursed it into cowering obeisance.
My neighbours refused to talk to me again until I'd fitted some silencers....not that it mattered as the 350 would start quite easily on the kickstart after that. I half-heartedly ran the bike in for 250 miles, quietly impressed by the amount of torque below 5000rpm and startled by the 75mpg economy.
But, god, the riding position was awful. Clip-ons combined with forward mounted pegs led to almost instant pain in my back and wrists. The rock hard suspension heaped horror upon horror, even minor bumps in the road being somehow amplified into massive gyrations of my poor old strained body. The XL's handlebars and clamps were rapidly adapted to the Morini's forks which at least meant I could see where I was going without ruining my neck muscles. It did little for the bumps, though.
Other discomfort came from engine vibes. My friend's Sport is significantly smoother, my rebuild skills may be less proficient than I'd like to believe. It buzzed at most revs, becoming really bad after 8000rpm. What surprised me about the 350 was the way it could be revved hard, coming in with lots of power after 6000 revs but could also potter at low revs. 40 horses from 350cc in 1976 was state of the art; a pity that there was no development left in the engine as later versions became less powerful.
I also liked the double sided TLS front brake. It required careful setting up to get everything working together, but once that was done produced stunning stopping distances (the Morini's mass of less than 350lbs obviously helped). Unlike most discs I've tried it could also produce gentle braking even in the wet; there was always enough feedback to avoid locking the front wheel on damp roads.
The rear drum was less satisfactory. The linings were slightly oval which caused a lot of juddering when the brake was used hard. The solution was to ignore the brake...engine braking was so strong that dropping the throttle dead was often all that was needed to lose speed.
Perhaps it was this that did for the chain in less than 2000 miles (it wasn't new to begin with). Even a new one needed adjusting every 200 miles or so. The skimpy chainguard allowed huge quantities of oil over the rear wheel and the back of my leg. Silly. The rusty mudguards did a similar trick with water even on days when it had stopped raining and the roads were merely damp.
I always treat my bikes as a practical means of transport rather than an exotic plaything. The Morini was a mixed bag. Good economy (60 to 70mpg), long lasting Pirelli tyres and a secure feel had to be put against its total dislike of wet weather. The mudguards were easily replaced but that did not stop the engine cutting out in the rain. It would chime on to one cylinder and sometimes cut out on both with obvious consequences. When I complained to Morini fanatics about this they just smiled pityingly. The other thing with water was that both chrome and alloy instantly turned into corrosion. They have to be cleaned every day during the winter.
I tried various tricks to stop the cutting out in the wet to no avail. I decided that the bike was not safe to ride in the wet! On dry days, I found the Morini an enjoyable experience, especially in country lanes when its handling finesse could be put to good use. I knew where there were some relatively smooth back lanes, which allowed me to use all the bike's acceleration. On bumpy roads it was bounced all over the place. Not that it ever felt dangerous, it was just the way my spine and teeth were all shook up. I actually lost one filling, but that might as easily have been from the vibes thrumming through the bars as the lack of suspension movement.
I rode in the company of a couple of Morinis one weekend, kept getting lost through the bends until I decided it must be safe to lean the Sport over even further. These Morini guys go out of their way looking for bigger Jap stuff to race through the curves and often get out ahead by using some outrageous angles of lean. After a few months they seem to become extensions of your limbs. I know that when I leap on to my modern Jap four there's a certain sense of loss, despite its much greater power and sophistication. It's easy to see why people become fanatical.
I didn't do more than 5000 miles on mine. The wet weather antics put me off, had it not been for that I might well still have the little vee. I have fond memories of many sun filled rides. They seem reliable enough as long as they have their 800 mile services and the cam belts are changed. The Morini fanatics reluctantly admitted that they run for 35 to 40,000 miles before the small ends and valves go.
Don't let that put you off, they are easy to rebuild and spares are still available. Sold mine for £675, I could probably have got a little more as it was one of the early models, but it went to a good home, where I knew it would receive fanatical tender loving care. The Morini deserved no less!
Charlie Richards
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Wandering around the local dealers I saw a Morini amid all the UJM's. A '77 model but resprayed and polished up so that it looked 15 minutes rather than 15 years old. The salesman pounced like a piranha fish sensing easy meat. The kind of hard sell that instinctively put me off and made me wary. He tried to sell the bike like he was permanently on an ego trip.
I tried to recall some Morini lore to dent his arrogance but could think of nothing except dodgy electrics. He reckoned it was completely rewired and pointed out the Jap switches and almost looked hurt when I suggested that it therefore wasn't original. Test rides were not allowed but the mechanic was summoned to start the machine. Sounded okay to me!
Then the real hurdle was mentioned. £2500! I muttered something about poverty and only having five hundred smackers on me. At the mention of hard cash the salesman seemed to twitch as if in the throes of sexual ecstasy! I was practically pushed into his office where the deal was done after a phone call to ascertain my credit rating. £500 cash plus HP for £2000 which included a three month warranty and TPF&F insurance. Sign here, here, here and here.
That's the trouble with enthusiasm. It wasn't until much later that I realised the £200 a month was for three years rather than the one I thought he'd mentioned! Work the cost out yourself, it's too depressing for me to mention. The Morini was some compensation, it'd rev cleanly all the way up to the red line with a soulful noise and clicked through the six speed gearbox with previously unknown precision.
The handling was also very precise, just a minor amount of effort was needed to change direction. The suspension was Italian stiff, the bike knocked about but having an unerring ability to hold its line through all the road traumas. The cafe racer riding position made me feel part of the machine (the pegs were rear-sets rather than standard forward mounted footrests that were reported as being incredibly uncomfortable), with an excess of feedback from the tyres.
There followed a couple of months of immense enjoyment, flinging the Sport around my favourite country lanes at unlikely speeds. The bike's sheer ability was brought home to me when a wailing plod BMW bike suddenly descended on my tail at the end of a 100mph straight. I whipped the Morini over to the wrong side of the road and took the bend flat out. I've never been so frightened in my life, as we were almost horizontal.
I kept the pace up for the next five miles of bends that twisted every which way and left me dizzy with all the heeling over. I eventually turned off down a narrow track, leaving the Morini in top at low revs to keep the noise down, the 72 degree vee twin thumping out the torque like an old sidevalve single. The cop had either fallen off or given up!
Cruising speed was the same as the top speed, about 105mph, the engine appearing happy to be revved flat out and the chassis felt better the faster we went, though I doubted that the suspension was as it came out of the factory. I've never come across a machine that seemed so much more than the sum of its parts.
The brakes emphasized this impression. The front was a lovely double sided drum brake. It needed weekly adjustment of the cables to keep the two sides working together, but that apart there was an excess of predictable, powerful and smooth braking. Couldn't fault it, wet or dry. The rear drum wasn't so special; as its shoes wore down it became a touch grabby, putting the back wheel into some quite large slides on wet roads. It never really worried me, though, as the Morini retained it controlled feel even under extremis.
There were a couple of areas of complaint. The seat was too hard for more than an hour and the infamous electrics were not really up to the job. The front lamp gave illumination that would've given Honda C90 owners the horrors and fuses blew whenever the horn was used because its relay was missing. The slinky 2-1 exhaust made enough noise to make the latter irrelevant and was an excellent safety factor in heavy traffic, although judging by the pained expressions they didn't share my joy at revving out in second or third.
I couldn't really say that the engine vibrated, even under that kind of abuse, but I also couldn't say that the motor was smooth to the point of remoteness. One friend, brought up on newish Japanese iron, reckoned the motor must be on its last legs and was pained by dead hands for an hour after the ride. What a wimp! When I was a lad I had to suffer a B25; after that most modern bikes are smooth!
Some vibes would come in if the carbs weren't balanced every 750 miles, although the valve clearances would go for twice that. The engine was jewel-like to work on, a masterpiece of intricate engineering, a joy to caress, a sensual delight like a work of art. At least until the belt drive to the camshaft goes and all the valves end up bent. Not that it happened to me, I just mention it in passing to anyone overwhelmed with passion for this bike (it's an OHV pushrod design, by the way). Just about everyone who owns them, these days, is a fanatical enthusiast who doesn't take any kind of criticism lightly.
I mean, I got some very funny looks when I asked, at a Morini meeting, whether there was an easy cure for the electrics. Or the way the down-pipes' retaining rings kept coming undone? Or the 5000 rpm tickover from cold (mine wouldn't start or run if I used just one choke as advocated by one well known journalist)? Or spark plugs that lasted less than 500 miles (perhaps a result of the flat cylinder heads)? Or carbs that would vibrate loose? No, only joking, chaps, the 350 was obviously the most exquisitely engineered bike in the whole universe,
Running costs were mixed. Insurance was cheap, petrol good at 60 to 75mpg, brake shoes and tyres long lasting but chains were terrible, about 5000 miles on the cheaper type. I changed the oil every 750 miles which was fine if the bike's use was moderately hard but flat out work emptied the sump in as little as 300 miles. When the oil level went low the gearbox became very grating, so much so that only a mechanical ignoramus would run the mill dry. The first time it happened to me I pulled over, alerted also by the heat pouring off the rear cylinder. Checking the oil I was appalled to find that it was below the minimum level. Not having any spare oil meant I had to hitch-hike three miles to buy some new lubricant. Once alerted to this possibility I always carried a bottle of oil.
In seven months I did 13000 miles of fun motorcycling without any serious engine problems. I loved the feel of the little vee, it always felt alive, more like a wild animal than a mere machine. Surreal at times, so much enjoyment from such a small machine with only 40 horses! I also thought it a very practical machine, although it'd been rebuilt to a better standard than new (which had quick corrode chrome, etc.).
It's a really unfair world that they don't make them any more. Much more unfair that someone stole mine. The insurance paid out £375! They ignored my protestations about it being a classic bike. The HP company reckoned I had to cough up the remaining 30 months worth of payments. I decided to do a runner on a CB400N (what a come down) and live in perpetual fear of losing my knee-caps to the debt collectors.
Hugh Fraser