I didn't plan on buying a big Guzzi vee-twin. It was all down to seeing the neat, naked 1000S in a showroom and clocking the reasonable price. I lust after many bikes, this Guzzi one of the few that I could actually afford. £3000 in cash for a year old, 7000 miler with a six month guarantee on the engine thrown in for free. The majestic appearance of the beast was matched by the kind of bellow out of the exhaust that put the fear of god into civilians and helped make sure that any sleeping cagers were shook out of their slumbers.
This wasn't a stock bellow, the silencers had already been degutted - the only way on these pushrod valve engines to get a decent power kick and reasonable frugality. Top speed turned out to be 130mph on the clock, more likely 120mph when compared to friends' machines. The ninety degree vee-twin felt a bit ropy flat out, though it had perfect primary balance and never came close to the roughness of an old British twin. 90 to 100mph cruising didn't strain the mill to any appreciable degree but between 85 and 90mph there was a feel of particular sweetness from the motor, as if torque and power, both, had met in harmony.
As speed increased the effect of torque reaction decreased. Ticking over felt like the engine wanted to leap out of the frame. Using too much throttle on take-off had the directness of the shaft drive trying to unwind the tubular frame and made me think the often short-lived universal joints were about to break up. Only a great optimist and the most ignorant of owners would try to wheelie a big Guzzi... gearing always felt on the tall side, making the old girl, in town, as crotchety as an ancient granny caught short on a bus trip. Gently, gently, was thus the only way to treat the Guzzi during low speed work.
This often pushed my resolve to the limit, the controls were heavy going and reluctant to react to my feeble inputs. Half an hour in town had me fuming just like any of the cagers stuck in traffic. The Guzzi wasn't particularly wide, it was its slowness of turning that limited riding speeds in city traffic. In its favour, though, was an excess of low rev torque, reminiscent more of an old British thumper, such as a Panther 600, than modern Japanese multi's.
The power actually thudded rather than flowed in; I could sometimes watch the astonishment on a ped's face when the ground shook under him as if a minor earthquake was going down rather than a mere motorcycle rolling past.
The most fun was had on wide but sweeping main roads. Any heavy, long bike with the inbuilt Russian roulette abilities of massive torque reaction through a relatively primitive shaft drive is going to have trouble keeping things like RD350LC's in sight on the narrower roads. But given a bit of room, there was enough in-built stability to chuck the old Wop bruiser around like there was no tomorrow. Which there certainly wouldn't be if the centrestand hadn't been cut back.
Stock, it'll scrape away the tarmac on hard bends, offering the amusing option of levering the back wheel off the ground and sending the bike down the road awhile. If the Guzzi feels low and lean from the saddle it's an illusion that's quickly shattered when the damnable stand digs in. Neither did the bike feel well balanced when slung up on its modded stand, threatening to fall over in heavy winds.
Suspension wasn't as taut as I'd expected from this style of Wop bike, neither did it resist totally the pressures of fast, bumpy roads. As one who has actually ridden and fallen off a Kawasaki triple, I wouldn't go as far as saying the big Guzzi actually weaved. No, it was more a loose, tremulous feel when the road shocks were great and the angle of lean large. Not quite what I'd expected from such a thoroughbred machine...its mass meant that an old British twin would've been more agile in the bends.
The bike almost insisted on being treated as a high speed, long distance cruiser, a Wop BMW...alas, the riding position and the nakedness of the bike combined to make the wind blast above 90mph akin to a massive wrestling match that not only left me tired out after a quarter of an hour but also caused my hands to go a little dead. Something to do with the death-grip on bars that had a subtle yet intrusive secondary vibration running through them.
That would've been bad enough, but where the seat met the tank my groin was seriously chaffed, causing some problems with the wife if I was foolish enough to leap straight off the bike on to her. The lack of aerodynamic subtlety also had an effect on the efficiency of the running of the engine, which verged on a surreal 25mpg when caned at over the ton. 50mpg was possible during normal running; 35 to 45mpg when cruised between 80 and 90mph.
Torque there was aplenty. Once on the open road there was little need to play a mindless dance with the gearbox. Just dump her in top, play rock and roll with the improbably heavy throttle. The gearbox behaved in a somewhat odd manner. Some days it was almost Japanese in its smoothness and efficiency, other times it approached the oddness of an ancient BMW.
An excess of town trawling led to the whole engine overheating and the gearbox locking up, grauching away to itself as if auditioning for a part in an Ural motor. Fresh oil every 750 miles played a large part in making it more sophisticated. The clutch was predictably heavy but could also be quite vicious, again the engine turning too hot causing most of the hassles. I had to snap away at the throttle whilst holding her on the brakes (to avoid a stalled engine from clutch drag), which made the bike buck and shrug like an enraged bull looking for a china shop to bludgeon into a million pieces.
For my pains, I received a lecture from some rotund cop who I'd unfortunately woken up with all the thundering racket and shaking ground. He reckoned I looked too young to hold a full licence and I should be learning the art of motorcycling on something more appropriate. He wasn't in the least apologetic when my driving licence proclaimed my age as 33 and told me to get the silencers fixed fast, Yes Sir!
An easier bit of Guzzi life was undoubtedly the linked brakes, a bit of sophistication that appeared strangely misplaced on such a basic old brute. I never had any problems adapting to their nature but the calipers shared my horror at English winters. By the way they howled and seized up I could believe they were almost human, going on strike in protest at the conditions under which they had to work. Once they go down, it's a hell of a job to get everything working again...I actually had to pay a Guzzi mechanic to do the work!
Shocking, on what's essentially an easy bike to do your own maintenance. Tappets and carbs are the main chores, nothing a bit of practice can't get down to half an hour every month. It's even possible to strip most of the engine whilst it's still sitting in the frame, though fortunately it wasn't something that I had to put to the test. Neither did I have to do a complete rewire and replace all the switches with Japanese junk. I wouldn't describe the Guzzi's wiring as exactly tidy but the excessive (and troublesome) array of relays feeding into relays was absent.
The only hassle I encountered was the left-hand indicators trying to emulate the speed of the engine rather than that set by the control box. One thing to avoid, though, is adding any electrical load on the circuit...I met up with one 1000S owner who managed to get his to go up in flames when he put on a pair of lights to help out the marginal stock front headlamp. The bastards who insured him refused to meet his claim because the bike wasn't left stock!
I've done over 13000 miles since buying the bike, in less than a year, which just goes to show how much I like it - I've got a TZR125 for the commuting chores, so that was all fun riding on the Guzzi. Build quality is better than expected...nothing has rusted through, fallen off or failed. Paint and chrome both glow nicely, though I always give the bike a quick polish at the end of each day's riding, just to say thanks. Plus a major cleaning session every time I do the maintenance chores. Big Guzzi's often go around the clock when in the hands of a loving and caring owner...the limitations of a naked bike mean few are really thrashed and most are owned by true fanatics. £2000 to £3000 will buy a really good one and it's even possible to ride one for a year and sell without making a loss, though after that kind of lengthy exposure to its charms it's unlikely that anyone would want to part with such a machine. It ain't logical to be that enthusiastic about a cycle that in many ways is rather limited in its capabilities but then life ain't never been that sane. Thank the Lord!
D.V.