The ex-racer stood in the dim light of the street. The owner had resorted to bump-starting. To my doubtful eyes an amazing feat of physical coordination. The open pipes allowed an explosive blast to echo off the stone buildings. I quickly put my full-face lid on before I went deaf. I'd wondered why I'd had to shout at the vendor to make myself understood.
Blipping the throttle was the only way to stop the vee-twin motor dying. The clutch was heavy due to racing springs. The throttle was quick action. Just a touch had the revs soaring. The gearshift was vintage slow and cumbersome. The gearing was so tall that, in first, slip was needed until 20mph. Searing acceleration like a scud missile. By the time I made max revs in second the road came to an end.
The motor went well enough to convince me it was a good 'un. What was left of the chassis was quite solid. The guy was keeping the racing fairing for his next project. The front light stuck out a yard on some precarious brackets. As stock Pantahs are quite expensive beasts I was happy to pay £600.
There weren't any indicators. Riding at slow speeds was difficult. The throttle sprung back with a final snap and the clutch needed slipping. Hand signals were thus difficult. The Pantah had supreme stability which allowed unlikely antics. I made it the 10 miles home in one piece.
On further examination, the electrics proved to be much modified. The ignition was self-generating and electronic. The main alternator was junked in favour of a total loss battery system. This allowed about 20 miles of night riding before the lights went out. Or about four dabs on the electric boot. An alternator and set of indicators were top priority.
I was still able to ride around in the daylight hours. The bike was a bundle of laughs to trundle through town. The tremendous noise and outrageous acceleration had cagers snapping their necks. It was one of the safest bikes I'd ever ridden. There was no doubting my presence. The braking was something else. The discs had ultra-hard pads that produced vision distorting braking. Their lack of feel made them dangerous on slimy surfaces.
After a week a crashed 500 Pantah turned up in the breakers. As well as the electrics, I bought a half fairing, bars, pegs, exhaust system and seat unit. All for a bargain £100! With those fitted the bike was more or less back to stock. With the open pipes I'd been stopped three times by the plod. The racing riding position and minimal seat had produced searing back pains. To round off the month I sold the racing bits for £150.
The engine retained its racing components and traits. With the pleasant stock riding position, I was quite happy to juggle the throttle and clutch at slow speeds. In return I had a fearsome dose of acceleration between 6500 and 10,000 revs. The bike moved as well as a mate's CBR600 in third or fourth. Only losing out once past the ton, although top speed was 135mph. I only found this out from riding in the company of the CBR. The Pantah's speedo went berserk each time it touched 120mph. I still haven't decided if this was in celebration or protest.
The stock motor only made 60 horses. Racing engines would improve on that, maybe making 80hp. The stock exhaust and intake is very restrictive. Easy to get another 10 horses that way. The rest is down to harder cams, port work and higher compression pistons. The con-rods are the major limit on engine work, too much power will make them snap.
I'd guess my bike was making around 70 horses. With a weight of 420lbs that gave great acceleration and reasonable engine longevity. The one weak spot in the motor was the belt drive to the cams. These were much less complex than the old bevel drives. I put in a new set after the first 1000 miles and replaced them at 7500 miles. In a stock motor they might last for as much as 20,000 miles. The lumpier cams and higher revs gave them a much harder time.
Vee-twins are traditionally tuned for an excess of torque. Harley take that concept to extremes. Massive capacity, low revs and a deal of fun. The Italians do things differently. They love to make intricate motors that will safely rev high. Which is where the desmo heads came in. Back in the seventies valve material wasn't good enough to stop float at high revs. At least not with the large valves Ducati thought necessary. The desmo system opens and closes valves using a separate set of cam lobes. A brilliant bit of work. Maintenance is its downfall. It needs a skilled hand and a couple of hours to shim the system so that it all works together well. Valve servicing was needed every 4000 miles. I let a Ducati mechanic do the work at an expensive 75 quid a time.
As high revving as the motor was, it still ran well between 2000 and 6500. Below 2000rpm it'd cut out, because the self-generating ignition circuit didn't put out sufficient power. Once the motor was hot, it'd start first press of the button if it stalled. Cold starting was more of a problem. The choke system was missing and the open bellmouths gasped petulantly. I did try a few bump-starts but the bike liked to stall dead and fall over. I kept a spare battery and it'd eventually spit into life after a quarter of an hour on ice cold mornings.
There were a few oil leaks, probably down to the high pressure pump needed to service the plain big-end bearings. A hard run around town resulted in a big puddle under the motor. 200 miles in a day was a quick way to lose two-thirds of the lubricant. Slinging a couple of cans on the pillion perch was a good idea.
Passengers were reluctant to go very far. Complaining of earache (the silencers had mostly rusted right through), bum-ache and toothache. The latter from a thrilling dose of vibration as the motor was revved into red. With a ninety degree vee there shouldn't have been much. Past 10,000rpm the bars and pegs shuddered. The petrol tank felt like it wanted to split in half. At milder revs I could find little to complain about.
The hard edged acceleration complemented the handling well. As with most Dukes, the faster it went the better it felt. Had the gearing been less tall it would also have been a dead easy machine to trawl around town. Clutches are always a dodgy item on Ducatis. The amount of abuse mine was put through meant I was putting in new plates every 5000 miles. I even had one drum start to crack up. The crunching noises every time I touched the lever meant I got to it before there was an explosion of metal.
The gearbox was also a bit doubtful, with tales of boxes exploding. The fluidness of the change didn't inspire much confidence. It crunched and groaned but went into gear eventually. It was slow enough to hinder acceleration. Better to put the box in third or fourth, use the rev range to surge forward. Okay on the open road but impossible in town. Below 3000 revs the chain felt like it was about to snap.
It was after about six months fun and games that the gearbox seized up solid. It was possible to take off in second. If you thought that a burning clutch had narcotic possibilities. I spent a week revving the balls off the engine until I tired of the noise. It felt like a holocaust was about to happen. My friendly Ducati mechanic took £300 of my hard earnt bread. As well as selectors, a couple of teeth were worn down and the bearings were at the end of their service life. The rebuilt gearbox was still stiff but made less noise.
The state of the drive chain and sprockets had an effect on the smoothness of the transmission. Chains rarely lasted more than 5000 miles. A combination of drive-line lash, power pulses and a hopping back wheel (when I got carried away on the front discs). Sprocket life varied greatly. Some lasted no longer than the chain, others lasted twice as long. A function of their material and the accuracy of their manufacture. I did have one chain break. The chainguard (so minimal it was just a sop to the law) shattered. The crankcases survived with just a little whiplashing (ouch).
I was 30 miles from home at the time. I pushed it two miles to a motorcycle shop where I was able to buy a length of chain. The dealer wouldn't lend me any tools to get the chain tension set up. I rode slowly home with the chain threatening to leap off the sprockets. It would've been worse if it was too tight. That might've ruined the gearbox drive bearing! It's probably worth investing in an O-ring chain and sprocket set. I could never justify throwing that much dosh away.
Another limitation on a frugal lifestyle was fuel economy. Town riding gave 40mpg. Mild cruising managed 45mpg but giving the bike its head returned 30 to 35mpg. That was no worse than modern middleweight fours given the same kind of stick. A stock Pantah will give an easy 50mpg, maybe even 60mpg under mild conditions. I checked the plugs to find the mixture was nigh on perfect. To be honest, I'd much prefer to have the performance rather than the economy.
The cost and the age of the machine inhibited any plans to do an around the world tour. A week's camping holiday of about 1200 miles was the most I did. 300 miles in a day was tolerable. Loads of junk could be strapped on the bike without upsetting its poise. It didn't necessarily stay there. I had my tent and sleeping bag fall off the back. They survived being run over by a car. I'd placed the Ducati so hastily on its stand that by the time I'd run back it'd fallen over.
They are quite tough beasts. Mine survived several mild clashes with the tarmac. The indicators tend to snap off and I managed to scrape a couple of millimetres off the engine casing. It doesn't fall over rapidly, there usually seems time to get a boot down or wrench the bars. Even riding on bald tyres was possible if a bit of care was taken. I rather enjoyed the controllable slides that resulted on wet roads!
There was no way that the front brake could be used in those circumstances. There wasn't any delay, the front wheel locked straight away. Even after a year's worth of practice, I never found any feel in the front discs. It took that time (and 25000 miles) to wear out the pads. This turned out to be because they were so hard they'd worn down the discs! I was alerted to this by some clanging noises.
A collection of variously worn parts from different breakers followed. The same bits are also used on other bikes, so it's possible to mix and match. The resulting brake had about half the power of the old one. The first time I tried for a quick halt I almost shat myself. The bloody thing took another 60 yards to pull up from 80mph. The Pantah doesn't like to steer when the forks are down on the stops. I applied bar breaking force and missed the cage by an inch.
There was more feedback. Enough to make it almost safe to brake in the wet on decent tyres. I preferred Pirellis, they gripped well and lasted for 8000 miles at the back and 12000 out front. Some jerk of a tyre fitter took a huge chunk out of the alloy rim. They refused to pay for a repair. As it was a front wheel they were as rare as hen's teeth. Alloy welding was considered and rejected after I had visions of the wheel cracking up at 100mph. In the end I bought a new wheel! The most expensive tyre I ever paid for. I might just accept that the fracture was caused by ageing alloy.....
The plastic bits were even more fragile. The fairing cracked up, loosened it vibrated with a renewed frenzy. The hairline cracks rapidly became massive seams, huge chunks of the fairing falling off into the slipstream. Replica GRP replacements were even thinner and lasted mere thousands of miles. The seat unit was similarly dodgy, threatening to crack up and throw the rider off the back.
Problems have to be expected on any bike over ten years old. The Ducati was probably no worse than any similarly aged Japanese motorcycle. Certainly, there are few low mileage Pantahs on offer. Because they tended towards reliability even when thrashed, they were used hard. Once experienced, it's not easy to back off the throttle. That mind tripping surge of power and torque combined with the instinctive handing added up to a lot of fun and games on the road. Prices are over the top, these days, but that goes for most Italian stuff and even decent Japs.
N.K.
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I named the Pantah Cruncher. Almost immediately. It was a 1981 model with the original gearbox. With 22000 miles of wear it was as precise as a sixties Honda twin and noisy as seventies BMW. The Ducati was a punchy little number with a blend of torque and power that only the Europeans know how to manufacture. A ninety degree vee-twin with Desmo heads (belt driven cams) and a feeling of history about of it, of metal being wrought in one man's dream. The apprentice must've designed the gearbox.
As any Boxer owner knows, a bit of time and effort can master even the most nasty of gearboxes. Took me about 2000 miles to come to terms with it. As the crankcases are the same, the gearbox from the later 600 can be retro-fitted, but that costs serious money and a near impossible gearchange's a useful thief deterrent.
I was soon in trouble with the Ducati, about three months down the line the electric starter burnt out. Neither love nor money could procure a good used one so I had to pay out for it to be rebuilt - sixty quid for a two day turnaround. The starter gears made the mill sound like it was on its last legs but were blissfully silenced once the motor blared into its staccato beat. Lovely noise, shame about all the chrome falling off the silencers which by then had rotted into straight-thru status (they weren't exactly quiet when brand new). Eventually, the downpipes were modded into a two into one system (keeping their lengths constant) and a stainless steel can fitted. The temperament of the motor was such that, even with a few holes knocked through the airfilter, the power still flowed without any flat spots.
The only thing to upset the power delivery was the time, with 32 thou on the clock, that one of the carbs became full of gunge. They do go out of balance very quickly but are easily set-up. The gunge turned out to be the petrol pipe dissolving! Unbelievable that they'd spoil the whole bike by using some cheap tubing. I replaced it with some British hose and cleaned out the carb. All was well again.
For a while. There was something about the bike that made me a little edgy. Reminded me of the time that I'd unknowingly bought a crashed and repaired CB750. Not that the Pantah didn't handle. After too many Japanese middleweights it was very agile and precise; great fun! Yet, I felt that the bike was going to fail in some big, unspecified way. I'd had that feeling when I bought it, had offered a low price, which much to my consternation was accepted.
The Pantah looked fine, then six years old - exceptionally good for a marque that had a reputation for rusting away the first time they saw an English winter. Ran well, handled exceptionally and looked butch enough to have young kids give me the thumbs up. Yet, I felt there was something wrong.
It was only after six months that I realised what was bugging me. The engine was too quiet. No rattles from the top ends. I worked this out after hearing a few other Pantahs at a Ducati rally. On the way home I glanced behind on the overrun to have my worst fears confirmed. A puff of smoke out of the exhaust. The valves were too tight! You may well ask why I never checked them before - I'm lazy and if something's running I tend to leave well alone.
I approached the Desmo valvegear with trepidation, having heard all kinds of stories about their complex sophistication. However, if you methodically follow the workshop manual and take a weekend over the job it's quite simple. They were so tight I couldn't get a valve-gauge in! No permanent damage resulted from this wanton neglect.
Whilst on the subject of valves, the belt drives don't last that well. About 10,000 miles. The originals went for more than 15000 miles and quite a few owners were caught out when the replacements weren't up to the same spec. Bevel drive fanatics view the new engine with righteous disdain, as just an example of corporate cost cutting. Maybe they're right but the Pantahs do work well.
After 35000 miles the front end turned a bit vague. I hadn't touched the forks, thought maybe some new oil was in order. The bleed screws broke off when I tried to remove them. A weekend with a drill finally extracted them. The oil dribbled out, looked like it'd been in there since the bike left the factory. I put in a thicker grade to help out the damping, which was losing it every time the bike hit a series of bumps. The improved damping showed up the springs, not really being up to the stiff Italian standards that I expected.
My experiences with Wop alloy indicated that I didn't really want to take the forks apart. The obvious solution was to remove the huge half fairing, as the weight of this, plus brackets, was giving the front end a hard time. The fairing wasn't half bad in heavy rain but helped direct water on to the front pot, which caused some stuttering. I made up a brackets for the clocks and fitted an old CB175 light I had hanging around (with an upgraded bulb).
Top speed was down from 120 to 115mph, fuel was the same at 55mpg, weather protection was poor, the engine ran better in the wet, and the handling improved. The forks now felt reassuringly firm, much less willing to bounce on the stops when the twin discs were abused. Oh yes, the bike looked about a hundred times better - that lower line of the fairing's all wrong for the vee-twin engine. A nice weekend's work, that.
With just under 39000 miles done the electrics went haywire. Always a problem with old Italians - they just can't bring themselves to pay up for decent wiring. Wires shorting out had ruined the rectifier, in turn draining the battery whenever the bike wasn't running. Blowing bulbs and malfunctioning indicators (they had a mind of their own and almost caused several accidents) added to the uncertainty and chaos. I was surprised they'd lasted so long! A complete replacement of the electrics was called for, although I didn't have to touch the alternator.
The bike seemed pleased with the two week's worth of effort, ran better than ever. Soon, though, the chassis bearings started to go. No sooner had I replaced the rear wheel bearings than the front's went. A big time wobble announced their 70mph demise. The cagers couldn't believe the antics as the machine was wrenched from one side of the motorway to the other. Neither could I, nor that I never came off - the excellence of the frame and geometry shone through.
I was a bit annoyed at that stage but for the next 4000 miles all was well with the world. Races with a friend's CBX550 proved the superiority of Italian design and a two week holiday showed that the old bus could still make the grade as a tourer. There was one proviso, the stock seat was rock hard and best replaced or upholstered to a higher spec. If you don't do that you end up with piles after a mere 100 miles.
As the mileage crept up to 50 thou the engine became a bit rattly and the performance lost some of its edge. Still well capable of producing lots of kicks, I again began to worry that something serious was going to go amiss. It wasn't until 53000 miles that a strong knocking noise finally identified the malaise as the rear cylinder's small end on the way out. When a Ducati engine reaches that stage's there usually some major internal surgery needed.
From my first intimation that something was going wrong until the bike became too rancorous to ride took nearly three months; sufficient time to find a 600 engine out of a crashed (as in crushed at both ends) bike. An ex-racer with some meaty engine mods that have given the old bag a new lease of life. I don't think this motor's going to last long as it's already smoking. Not to worry I've almost completed the rebuild of the 500 (I had to find a good crankshaft and gearbox components).
Jake Garland