The 1978 850 Le Mans and I really got to know each other well when I took it on a long tour of the UK in 1994. Up one side of the country and down the other. A mixture of motorways and fast A-roads, ideal country for the old shaft drive vee-twin.
Before I went I put in new universal joints, cables and battery - just to be on the safe side. The well cared for bike gave every impression of wearing slowly despite almost going around the clock. In fact, half way through that trip the bike went into six figures and I celebrated by getting drunk out of my head in Glasgow. A fake Scottish accent stopped the locals from beating the shit out of me and I had a good time with the native girls who seemed into everything - short skirts, drink, drugs and sex. I only learnt afterwards that it was the AIDS capital of Europe.
Back to the bike. The Guzzi roared along nicely at 100-110mph - its natural pace - like some giant puma. Shrugged off most of the fast corners with nary a complaint, only went a little wild at the back end in the more devious bends in the Scottish Highlands. Many a friend had a quick blast, came back with tales of near disaster and the frame feeling like it was made out of plastic. Less than surgeon skill on the throttle can cause the shaft drive to rattle around a little but, as with most things, a little experience with the beast goes a long way. Even my throttle hand has toughened up (it had some good training on an old Commando).
One of the good things about the 850 was that when well set up (basically keeping the carbs in balance) it gave in excess of 60mpg and didn't tear through the rubber. It could do high mileages in good comfort (once used to the heaviness of the controls) and on the minimum of dosh. It also felt secure through the summer downpours and didn't have any real nastiness hidden within its chassis (once used to the jerkiness of the shaft drive).
One high point of that tour was doing 130mph for half an hour on a deserted stretch of Scottish motorway and not being pulled over by the pig mobile that shot past like I was standing still! Must've been clocking off and heading home for breakfast. Prior to that trip, I'd owned the bike for about nine months, mostly chugging through the traffic in the Smog, with the odd fast blast.
That added up to a limited appreciation of the Guzzi, the early days notable for a long list of complaints, but the more I used the bike the more they faded into the background until the Lemon was firmly in my blood. An addiction!
The trip hardened that feeling, so emotive was the vee twin mill and so esoteric its performance that fondness overwhelmed any minor feelings of disgruntlement. It wasn't quite as good as sex but if there weren't any suitable women around I would quite happily fling my leg over the Guzzi instead.
One of the oddest things I found on my perambulations was that the girls in the remoter regions of Wales and Scotland were much more willing to acquiesce to my demands than those down south. Perhaps, in such relatively poverty stricken areas, the Guzzi and I cut a romantic dash! In London I just got laughed at by young girls!
Pillion accommodations were suitably minimal, leaving the frail little choice but to hang on to me in an intimate bear-hug. The extra mass made the engine chug away a bit like an old locomotive going up a steep incline but eventually the power snapped in just as lovingly as when solo. If anything, the handling was marginally improved with some extra weight over the back wheel.
The rising shaft could flummox Guzzi novices, cause them to ride off the road rather than around the curve when they used too much throttle without realising its effect on the handling. A good anti-theft device, I kept telling myself. Harleys are famed for turning on female pillions with their low frequency vibes, the Guzzi had a similar effect on one girl - I ended up a bit weak kneed with all the effort needed to keep her sated! Still, mustn't complain.
On that trip the Guzzi did a few thousand miles without much complaint. Just one oil change and half a dozen carb balancing sessions - you can always spot an old Guzzi hand by the way they can balance the carbs by ear whilst waiting at traffic lights! As mentioned, the universal joints are a bit famous for failing, not surprising given the way the shaft drive bounces around (despite harsh suspension); oil leaks from the gearbox are also common.
The electrics need an upgrade - there's metres of useless wiring, strange relays and switches that seep up any hint of moisture from the atmosphere. Burnt out generators aren't unknown. Any 850 Guzzi that gets serious use - and most still do - will sport a complete rewire and electrical upgrade by now, shouldn't be a problem unless it's bodged.
So inspired was I by that summer trip I ended up doing Europe the next year. Weird shit, seeing how many countries I could do in a week - eight, I think it was! The faster the roads the happier the bike was, despite approaching 120,000 miles. Riding fast isn't a matter of thrashing the Guzzi, though, it's just a case of getting the best out of its power band. I'm always careful to let her warm up properly and don't ride it on the throttle and gearbox at lower speeds - almost impossible, anyway, with the Lemon's slow, clunky and long travel gearchange.
I like the linked brakes. Others don't, but they can be set up as normal discs if they really annoy - though it's a bit of a job sorting out the brake lines. Pad life is poor, though, less than 5000 miles, even under mild abuse.
The 850's considered the classic Le Mans, retains its value despite most of them having high mileages like mine. In 1996 I bought an old Jota, just for the kicks, and it's another fine speedster but nowhere near as relaxed and competent as the Guzzi. Having owned masses of Japanese fours, as well as many old British twins, the Lemon's the easy favourite of the whole bunch. It has the same kind of character as a Harley but much better sporting abilities. It's a bit more trouble than the Japanese fours but never comes over as bland and the British twins don't have the same kind of engine longevity and toughness. Go buy one and enjoy.
Wayne Davis
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Three weeks after placing the wanted ad in MCN for a Moto Guzzi T3, I received a phone call from a chap who described an ideal bike, the only down thing being it was in Newcastle upon Tyne while I lived in the Midlands. After numerous phone calls confirming what the bike was like, I negotiated the price down from £1000 to £850 over the phone and agreed to make the trek up north to see it, with the proviso that if the owner had been lying I would massage his scrotum with a large mallet!
On arrival, the bike was as good as he said it was and after taking it for a run up and down the road, everything seemed to be making the right noises. We then spent the rest of the afternoon in further negotiation. He eventually came down another £15 but threw in a new front tyre, numerous cups of tea and a few sandwiches.
The return journey was a right bugger, it was late September, extremely cold and getting dark. The leather I was wearing hadn't been on my back for about three years and within that time I'd put on about two stones of pure muscle - my lungs were only allowed quick, short, shallow breaths, which soon misted up my visor. On stopping halfway home, partly to let my lungs fully inflate and, secondly, to let my naval recover from the icy blast, I decided to top up the petrol. From a full tank the bike had travelled 140 miles on £4's worth of petrol.
I was later to find that fuel varied between 50 and 70mpg, more often than not averaging over 60mpg. Whilst the bike is not particularly fast outright, about 115mph if you contort your body into a weird shape and get down to it, this is not bad for an 850cc lump that was originally designed many decades ago.
The following morning I inspected the bike in my garage. There was a small pool of oil under the engine. The crankshaft oil seal had thrown in the towel, the universal joint gaiter was split, a rocker cover bolt had snapped off in the head, the fork seals leaked.....fairly minor, true, but a bit of a pain in the wallet when you just want to get on and ride the damn thing.
I decided to strip the engine out. The first Guzzi trait was then encountered, the seized in front engine bolt. The best way of dealing with that is to snap the head of the bolt off, prise the frame apart with a bit of wood between engine casing and frame tube, then hacksaw through the bolt. When the engine is finally removed, take off the timing chain cover and either have the bolt machined out professionally if you have loads of money and no time, or get to it with the Black & Decker drill, a few prayers and a pair of brown trousers.
The other job that was quite difficult was removing the seized in swinging arm spindle; it took many hours of swear words, a 3lb hammer, an impact driver and a box of Band- aids to get it out. With the engine out there didn't seem much of the bike left so I continued to strip down the frame. Another problem was a partially seized universal joint which I had renovated (they're £100 new) for £17.50, by someone who specialised in truck universal joints - it's still okay so he must have known what he was doing.
All of the other jobs went quite well, the seals in the engine were replaced, the timing chain was adjusted (I don't think it had been touched from new) and the bike was bunged back together with stainless steel bolts whilst I watched the wiring loom crack faster than a sadist's whip as I struggled to put it back where it belonged. Despite this typical Italian affectation, the electrics are still working fine. The bike had the frame stove enamelled and the cycle parts resprayed, the end result looking rather smart, aided by the fact that Italian alloy can be shone up nicely with some elbow power and a few tubes of Solvol.
Surprisingly, it started first press of the button, but following a quick blast around the block, the fork seals started leaking even more than the old ones and the brakes didn't work very well. The braking system was stripped to find the pistons were seized - replaced with teflon coated pistons.
As soon as the bike was fully sorted I headed for the Island. The Guzzi performed admirably if a lot under powered compared to the new stuff, even so not a lot passed it around the bendy stuff. When going hard on the T3, getting it lined up for bends is number one priority and number two priority is not to shut off halfway around a bend, as things tend to get out of shape. This has a lot to do with the torque reaction of the engine combined with the shaft drive. Riders of BMW twins will know the routine quite well and will be pleasantly surprised by the relative tautness of the suspension.
Returning to the semi normality of mainland roads, the bike excels at high speed touring on A roads. With fairly high bars and the lazy beat of the vee twin motor it was a delight to lope along at 80mph. However, bumpy B roads upset the handling and with the original shocks, which worked okay on A roads, you'll spend most of the time out of the saddle, desperately trying to reach the brake pedal for the quickly approaching hairpin.
Guzzi gearboxes are, er, different, with long levers and sloppy linkages plus the shaft drive, rapid changes are out of the question because it ends with neutrals all the way through the box with lots of frigthening crunching noises. Take a bit of time, though, and it's quite predictable; no worse than a Beemer. The throttle also causes grief to all those who are not dedicated readers of soft porn, and the right wrist soon develops ultra powerful muscles. The linked braking system, with the foot pedal operating front and rear discs and the handlebar lever the other front disc, works extremely well once you're used to it; nothing more to be said on that really.
Exhaust systems on Guzzis visually only last a winter, but the one I had looked like new and somewhere along the line had been rechromed properly. I took mine off, anyway, and bunged on a production racing set of exhausts and a set of Le Mans footrests. The latter made it more comfortable, and the former gave myopic pensioners adequate warning to avoid them stepping out in front of the plot. Did it sound good? You bet!
Fortunately, the switches had been changed to Japanese before I got my hands upon it, so no problems there. The speedo was good for a laugh, with the needle oscillating between 100 and 160mph whilst the tacho stayed at a steady 6000rpm.
Tyre and pad wear seem quite reasonable, rear tyres lasting 12000 miles and the pads hardly wearing at all. The biggest pain in the arse is replacement of the air filter. I only did it the once, as the job necessitates having fingers like ET, the patience of Jobe and lots of luck. Needless to say, I went out and bought some K & Ns. The valves are easy to set, being accessible and taking only 20 minutes.
Leaping off a Jap multi onto a Guzzi would be a bit of shock for many riders, as it requires a definite technique to get the best out of it. That said, it's comfortable, economical, easily maintained and has lots of character. Being quite rare it also stands out from the multitudes. However, a relatively happy coexistence between rider and machine was completely spoilt when I had a go on my mate's Honda CBR600. I was immediately smitten by the damn thing and it really showed up how old is the design of the Guzzi. It's no good going on about how fast it wears out chains, tyres and brakes pads, I've got to have one!
John Sheldon
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The 1990 Spada Mk3 was the first, and in fact only, Guzzi I've ridden. I wanted something that would provide total body protection but not be so cumbersome as to curtail my favourite pastime of A road riding. I had tried a BMW R100RS but found the width of the engine disturbing, the chassis less than taut and the vibes horrifying. My local dealer had just taken on the Guzzi concession and was willing to allow me a go on his personal machine which also acted as a demonstrator.
"Take it for an hour," said he with a grin. "You need to get used to these Guzzis, they are not the same as Japanese bikes." Usually, when you read in the press that a bike shouldn't be viewed in the same way as a Jap you know it means that in reality it's a bit of a dog. So, I wasn't hoping for much that spring morning.
A light drizzle gave me the chance to test the effectiveness of the rather beautiful full fairing. It worked brilliantly, better than the RS as the screen was higher and its slightly wider form allowed bars with a more comfortable rise than the narrow, low item fitted to the BMW. The heavy throttle lacked preciseness, the gearbox clunky (but no worse nor better than the R100) and you could certainly feel the 1000cc 90 degree vee twin motor working away.
The roads were dangerously damp but the tyres and chassis gave it a surefooted feel. After an hour around the back roads I felt this was the kind of machine I could live with for a long time. The riding position and firm seat conspired to instil comfort, the engine had loads of grunt and, well, it just looked so beautiful in an unusual shade of deep green.
A bit of hard talking back at the dealers, got the price down to a reasonable £4850 and the promise that I could pick up the brand new bike the next day. The dealer was still grinning, so we were both happy. That evening a domestic crisis followed when I informed the woman I was living with that rather than re-furnishing our home I'd bought a new motorcycle. As it was her house we were living in, she was, I suppose, quite within her rights to throw me out!
The next morning the Guzzi was thrown in at the deep end. Its panniers were filled with all my worldly possessions that did not fit into the large bag that was strapped on to the back half of the seat. I waved goodbye to the dealer and began the 250 mile trek down to Dover. Running in speeds meant that progress was very slow for the first 500 miles. The most I dared in fifth gear was 50mph. The motor grumbled along happily enough whilst I said my thanks for that fairing which cut through the near gale force winds and driving rain.
Crossing the Severn Bridge, the machine heeled over at an angle into the colossal wind that came in off the Severn, each time the bike went past the girders, momentarily cut off from the wind it skipped a few inches to one side. Frightening stuff. No toll to pay for motorcycles, I roared momentarily ahead of the traffic. Further down the M4, with 120 miles on the clock, I felt less of a moving traffic violation as the motor growled up to all of 60mph, aided by the gale force wind being behind us - I felt I could have switched the motor off and not lost any speed for the throttle was barely off the stop.
Stopping off at some services, I tried to shake some feeling back into my hands. Even at moderate openings that throttle required gorilla endurance whilst the clutch action was very stiff. It was to take 2000 miles before these faded into the background - I had either developed the necessary muscles or the controls had lightened up a bit. At least I wasn't cold, engine heat came up through the fairing and all my extremities were well protected by the GRP.
At such low speeds, as it should have been, stability was excellent. Even after being drenched by passing artics there was no hint of electrical problems so common in wop machinery in the past. I had phoned ahead and arranged to stay the night in Southall, so was able to give the machine a proper test in town before disappearing abroad. I found, even equipped with the fairing, that the Guzzi could be filtered through the traffic just as well as the GS750 I had previously owned. However, the horn was on the weak side and the combination of clunky box and heavy clutch did not inspire me towards staying in heavy traffic for a moment more than was necessary.
After a night of debauchery in Shit City, my early morning exit found me less than fully conscious but the steady beat of the vee twin motor soon had me in a relaxed and optimistic frame of mind. I was in Dover by 9am and, in the spirit of the adventure, bought a one way ticket to Calais. A few hours later I was on French soil. After a hundred miles of back roads en route for Paris I was ready for some food. Sitting outside a small cafe in a tiny village with the sun glinting off the Guzzi, a plate of croissants and bottle of red at my side, I was at one with the world.
I was to recall that moment of contentment when I finally hit the outskirts of Paris. The weather had turned cold and wet again, the road surface was like ice and the Guzzi had begun to run on just one cylinder. Leant over for a sharp corner the motor suddenly fired on two, a large gob of torque was directly transmitted to the rear tyre by the shaft drive and the back wheel just went from under me. Ouch.
Picking myself up off the ground, amid raucous horn blasting Citroen and Peugoet car drivers, I was more concerned over the damage to my once new machine than any physical injury I might have suffered. One advantage of the oily road surface was that the Guzzi had just slipped along the road rather than impaling itself. I picked the bike up and hurried up a side street out of the sight of the glaring and gesticulating car drivers. Its once proud finish was ruined by slashed GRP but otherwise it seemed fine and ticked over as reliably as ever. It had 497 miles on the clock - Sob!
A few minutes later I found a hotel where I could inspect the damage to myself - bit of skin off my knee - and ponder the reasons for the accident. In the afternoon the sun came back, I brought some oil and did a full service on the bike - dead easy on a simple pushrod vee twin like this one. I even found the cause of the misfire, a slightly loose lead on a coil.
A few nights were spent investigating the Parisian nightlife, then it was onwards down towards Spain - I wanted some heat in my bones. I was able to open the bike up to 80mph in top, at those revs it still burbled along contendedly, the handling rock solid but the suspension reasonably compliant.
Admittedly, the back end showed an occasional lack of damping over rough going and backing off the throttle mid bend had an adverse effect upon the shaft drive. If you messed up your line entering corners it could be swung back without much trouble. It wasn't as flickable as the lightweight race replicas, but then I didn't expect it to be, but was easier to haul over than the older style of fours and more stable. As I broke through the 1000 mile barrier I gently rolled the throttle open, urging the bike past the ton. The gearchange had become slicker as the mileage piled up and, anyway, I had found it easier to take off in second than struggle with the box from first through neutral to that gear.
A slight leak from one cylinder head gasket and another from the universal joint were cured by the simple expedient of tightening down the bolts. I became so enamoured of France and the French that rather than rush down to Spain I spent a week and 3000 miles travelling the back roads of the South of France, enjoying the scenery and machine immensely. On B type roads the Guzzi is just the right side of being too heavy to be enjoyable. It could be flicked through roads that ran back upon themselves with an absurd ease. I am sure if a Goldwing owner tried the same he would be a nervous wreck after a few minutes.
The linked brakes were a pleasant surpise and I rarely had to use the front brake lever, sufficient stopping power coming from the combined use of the rear and front disc, actuated by the foot pedal. Using both brake levers it's possible to stand the bike on its head.
In all, my European adventure took in 7500 miles with hardly a moment of disquiet. Admittedly, the rear tyre was nearly finished and an average rate of drinking fuel at 38mpg did not impress but at least the tank takes almost five gallons. Finish was not good on the frame, corrosion breaking through its paint. Just taking one of these bikes for a five minute test ride would not impress, but over the past few months I have grown to love the machine.
S.M.W.
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I suppose that there must be some good if much modded Guzzis on the market, but my bike gave the impression that it had passed through a series of ignorant and horrified owners who couldn't wait to move on to something, anything, better. What can you expect for £450 and 76000 miles, I told myself, as I very narrowly avoided running down a queue of peds who seemed under the false impression that motorcycles were not supposed to lurch a foot to the left on acceleration. I would've waved their protests off had not letting loose of the bars been akin to slitting my wrists.
After half an hour of fun filled suicidal antics I arrived home with fumes pouring out of my helmet, an interesting line of invective out of my mouth and sympathetic vibes shuddering my body in tune with the way the Guzzi tried to hop across my drive. My eyes were bloated with the fear and my wrists swollen from the throttle and clutch, an infamous Guzzi way of sorting the men from the boys; a test my unsuspecting body failed dismally.
When I went to turn the ignition off the lock fell apart in my hand, about a hundred tiny bits splattered over the drive. As the engine was ticking over at a violent 3000 revs I pulled the wires apart, the resulting spark threatening to do the decent thing, set the old heap alight. Before it was placed in the garage I took the battery out as I feared it might catch fire in the middle of the night, burn the whole house down.
The battery was coated in burnt off or spilt acid that tried to take my skin off, making me chuck the thing a few yards away, as if I suddenly had a handful of hot coals. It narrowly avoided smashing my front door to pieces, instead merely taking a large chip out of the wall before bouncing on the concrete, cracking up and spraying acid over my legs. Screaming with pain and horror I rushed into the house and put myself under the shower.
I didn't really mind the holes in my jeans, what really enraged me was that when I tried to fit another ignition switch the wires pulled out of the loom which itself was revealed to have lots of insulation rotting off. Guzzi wiring, even brand new, was pretty dubious, the mess in my bike meaning the only way I could get back on the road was with a complete rewire. There were enough excess connectors and relays to shore up the Italian electrical industry and the handlebar switches had a mind of their own; replaced with Japanese bits.
Guzzi owners will protest about my attitude, claiming robustness and reliability, but I wasn't very impressed when checking the fuel tank with my screwdriver I ended up with a lap full of petrol from the neat hole produced on the underside. The wife suggested I throw the whole thing in the skip that was loitering outside next door's house but being stupid I persisted. Breakers have a very low opinion of Guzzis, it turned out, and it took a lot of phoning around to find a good tank.
After all that effort the engine churned over on the starter but didn't fire up. Guess what I did next? Yep, cross-threaded a new spark plug! Aaaaaah! When I stopped leaping up and down in a frenzy and hitting the engine with a big hammer, I tore the cylinder head off. More screaming followed when the studs pulled out of their threads and there was a large crack running through the combustion chamber! I closed my mind to the state of the piston and bore, put on a secondhand head and used good old Araldite to secure the studs.
So, a month and a half after riding the bike home I was back on the road. Almost immediately I had a problem with the linked brakes, the rear locking up whilst the front didn't seem to work at all. The handlebar lever worked the other front disc, saving us from instant termination but causing the bike to veer off to one side. All it needed was new brake fluid but it took me three days to get the air out of the system and, of course, all the bleed nipples stripped their threads. I should buy shares in Araldite!
About a month later my wrists had stopped swelling up, my shoulder muscles had adapted to the force needed to maintain a straight line and I'd gone through two fire extinguishers as my rewiring efforts had left a few wires able to melt on the engine. It was in retrospect quite hilarious to have peds screaming in fear when the Guzzi started sparking and smouldering in town, even more amusing to have some cager let loose with his fire extinguisher. There was more foam on me than the bloody bike.
The Guzzi was pretty nasty in town so I naturally headed for the open road, where it would have a chance to show its best attributes. Damned if I could find any, though. The handling was either ponderous or precarious depending on how the throttle was abused and how far I tried to lean over. The Guzzi just loved to go straight ahead even when the road was swerving violently and backing off the throttle had the back end in a rigorous fit. I didn't know whether I was coming or going for most of the time, knew only that I didn't like it very much at all.
The old vee twin motor might've pushed the bike past the ton but I wasn't inspired to do more than 90mph. The engine felt like it had loose mounting bolts, trying to detach itself from the frame, although its ninety degree layout should've given perfect primary balance, so it was probably down to worn components and newer versions may be much more impressive.
My initial impression was that it'd be pushing my luck to do more than fifty miles in a session, but it did turn out to be quite reliable in day to day use. I even did a slow 300 miles without suffering too much trauma, just tired out muscles and double vision. Fervent fanatics will tell you big Guzzis are full of character and interesting idiosyncrasies that take a few months to fully understand but I think my T4 was just worn out!
Something evidenced by the fuel which was only 35 to 40mpg even under moderate abuse, and oil that was a sump emptying 100 miles per pint. The Pirelli tyres wore out in about 6000 miles, though they were not quite brand new when I bought the bike and the brake pads hardly lasted for half that mileage. No way could the T4 be considered economical or cheap to run, even friends on hot 600 replicas were better off despite screaming everywhere at twice my speed.
After just over four months I fell off for the first time. It was some caged cretin's fault, trying to do a sudden U-turn as I was about to overtake. The pathetic croak from the horn was no help at all. I stomped on the brakes, howling the wheels for once, until the front hit a patch of gravel that had me off before I could start swearing. The car driver only became aware of our existence when the bike slid into the side of his car. As I rolled down the road I could've accepted a totally written off car as adequate compensation for the gravel rash but not having the 500lbs of Moto Guzzi flip back on to my legs. The impact was only in passing and more of a glancing blow that anything else, but for a while it felt like both legs were broken. The car driver tried to finish me off by pulling me upright but a couple of wailing cop cars restrained him to a few hurried kicks to my ribs.
When it became evident that I wasn't going to die, could still walk and was only afflicted with minor grazes, the cops went on at length about my lack of tax disc, incoherent mutterings when insurance was mentioned and the distinct possibility that the last MOT was done in 1985. The quick conclusion was that it was all my fault for riding a machine that was fit only for the scrap heap. The dents and blemishes I could blame on the crash, although the crashbars had averted any serious damage, but the bald tyres were evidence of my wanton neglect that I could do nothing to deny.
That was six months ago and I'm still riding around on the same machine and have yet to be prosecuted for anything - perhaps they enjoyed themselves so much that they forgot to do the paperwork. The Guzzi is still a pretty rotten motorcycle, whichever way you look at it, but it's still running, rumbling and roaring as good or as bad as ever. It looks so awful, though, I doubt that anyone would give me any money for it.
Pete Smythe
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I spent about five years tearing around on one of the original 850 Le Mans. Then marriage, mortgage, car and a child ate up all my spare cash. Two years ago there was a bit of spare dosh and the chance to go for a plain vanilla Guzzi 850 T3. If the engine and frame were similar to the mighty Le Mans, the attitude was entirely different, much more Grand Tourer than outrageous sportster. That fell in well with my more mature life and assured the wife with its cute appearance that it wasn't one of those killer machines. The last time I saw a GSXR1100 in her company she had a hell of a job to stop me panting all over it. No way such an obvious piece of hooliganism would be allowed.
The T3 had three past owners but if appearance was any judge, and it usually was on old Italian iron, then it'd always been well looked after. The price, £600, was reflected in its 67000 miles and the linked brakes being disconnected in favour of a conventional set-up. I really liked the brakes on the Le Mans and was hard pressed to believe the owner's claims that he was tired of the back disc locking up first on wet roads. He had to rely solely on the handlebar lever operating just one disc until the system was replumbed.
The bike was standard down to its exhaust pipes, the only additions were an amazingly comfortable but ugly K and Q seat plus a large rack. The seat combined with the cow-horns bars gave excellent comfort in town, and up to 70mph, and more importantly gave much more leverage than the Lemon's clip-ons. It felt like being perched on a luxury throne, filling me with the need to wave regally at the peds. Steering was still a little heavy whilst hands not already trained to the Guzzi standard would soon ache from the heaviness of the throttle and clutch.
The shaft drive had newish universal joints and seals, a compulsory investment if even the vaguest hint of smoothness is wanted in the transmission. Worn out ones give the bike a hard time, with much rising of the back wheel, shuffling in corners and sending barbarous vibrations through the tubular steel frame.
The Guzzi's rather like a big BMW boxer in the kind of vibration it puts out, only really bad at the top of the rev range or when some component's about to fail. Slow revving in nature, harking back to its tractor origins, the gearchange's also heavy going. That's all part of the image, it'd feel pretty damn silly if there was a slick component amid all the other heaviness. Slow it might be but it was usually sure in action.
Suspension was, yes, stiff with heavy springs. Uprated from the original spec which would have the engine sagging along the ground by now. God knows, the bike needs all the help it can get in the ground clearance area. The Guzzi likes a well set-up line in the bends and a fairly steady rate of knots. The frame's strong and with the taut suspension I could get away with some frantic escape manoeuvres when obstacles to my stately progress intruded. I felt that here was a tourer which still kept a bit of a sportster hidden beneath the surface.
If I could get permission from she who cares, then I'm sure flat bars and rear-sets would turn the Guzzi into a 90 to 100mph sports-tourer. As it is, the T3's an incredibly easy going two-up cruiser, though those not used to Guzzi ways would use rather different adjectives. Indeed, a well experienced relative who borrowed the bike for a weekend came back full of tales of it behaving like a drunken camel, the gearbox only having two working ratios and both of his hands swelling so much that he rushed to the doctor's, where after waiting for two hours he was told not to worry. You have to wander into a surgery, these days, with an artery pumping out blood to claim any serious attention.
The engine showed its age by needing attention every 500 to 750 miles. Valves and carbs needed work although electronic ignition ensured one less chore. The Guzzi has pushrod operated valves but the cams are driven by a chain that needs replacing every 25000 miles. Mine was clanging away by 72000 miles and was promptly replaced. Not an arduous chore like on some Jap four, less than an hour fixed it. Oil was changed every thousand miles.
After a couple of months I formed the ambition to take the bike past the 100,000 mile mark. An achievement I fell short of by 9000 miles on the Le Mans, due to selling the bike rather than any mechanical limitations. A well loved Guzzi can be kept going for extravagant mileages.
One major relief was that most of the electrics were dumped in favour of much superior Japanese stuff. I was amazed at the state of the wiring in the Lemon, a nest of nastiness that would only make sense to someone high on LSD. In the end, to stop the cutting out, fires and exploding bulbs, I had to tear every single piece of wiring and electrical components out. One of the first things I clocked on the T3 was the state of the electrics. I hope, for the sake of Guzzi, that the new bikes are better sorted.
To give the mileage a boost, wife and I did the grand tour of Europe in three weeks of excess. It's just as well that the seat was comfy because we were doing 500 miles a day, over 10,000 miles in all! The bike was content at 70mph, pushed at 80mph and rumbling with discontent at 90mph. Fuel remained good at 50 to 60mpg. Only the camping gear being stolen towards the end of the trip spoiled the experience. Reliability was maintained by daily engine services, about half an hour, and changing the oil every second day.
By the time I was back home 85000 miles were done. Rust was breaking out on the silencers, one of the shocks had lost its damping and the underneath of the petrol tank was more rust than paint. The latter was a bit ugly, too wide where it met the seat, leaving me with the feeling that I was perched atop the chassis. I was quite happy to buy a large alloy number meant for a Jap iron. It was large but had sculptured cut-outs for the knees and gave me something to grip between my legs. A minor mod like that can change the feel of a bike out of all recognition.
The tank gave a much firmer purchase to resist the somewhat fierce braking from the twin Brembo brakes. The cast iron discs rusted easily but their interaction with the pads gave safe braking in the wet if a little care was taken with the lever. At best, the rear brake was indifferent but was used so infrequently that the pads lasted 15000 miles, more than three times those at the front. I once ran the Lemon on pads down to the metal, causing one of the discs to explode!
The other trick that bike had was to speed wobble when the tyres went down to 2mm. Despite high bars and a huge top box, the T3 exhibited no such death instincts, something I put down to the improved composition of modern tyres, although none of the makes I tried lasted for much more than 6000 miles. In passing, try to avoid Guzzi's with sixteen inch wheels because they just don't suit the chassis and can throw the bike down the road when they slide away without any warning. This isn't the kind of bike that takes to trendy fashion.
By the time 90,000 miles were passed, I felt honour bound to replace the shocks with Koni Dial-A-Rides and pop on a pair of A65 silencers. The former might be modern but the twin shock set-up defies trendiness, whilst the latter gave a wonderful burble. Within days the ungrateful wretch was demanding a new universal joint, timing chain and the right-hand carb manifold cracked. I'm sure it was the result of my relative borrowing the bike again and trying to ride it like a 14000rpm replica.
Once those items were replaced a 3000 mile trek around the UK was done for kicks. Then assorted commuting and weekend jollies broke through the magic six figure barrier. I'm not sure if I or the bike was the greatest hero.
The clock now reads 107,500 miles! Just last week I bought a second old Guzzi and a garage full of spares. I love the feel of the alloy under my hand and the smell of old engine components. I think I've got enough bits for three bikes. Anyone out there want to take a bet to see if I make it past 200,000 miles?
Ralph
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On one memorable occasion I was given a lift back from a rally on a friend's Mk11 Le Mans. I had rather carelessly thrown my pig of a Honda into a field, having tried to go around a 40mph corner at 75mph. It would have been alright as the grass provided a soft landing, had not the bike and I struck a glancing blow off a give-way sign, which bent the bike's frame and broke my wrist.
As anyone who's tried it will tell you (probably at great length and with feeling) riding pillion on a Lemon is neither easy nor comfortable. My inability to hold on with more than one hand compounded the difficulty. The grade one certifiable lunatic in control of the bike slowed his usual pace by 5% or so, but this still left me sliding about helplessly, desperately clinging on with my remaining good hand. It was also rather cold and occasionally wet. Despite all this, I still thoroughly enjoyed the trip! I was so impressed by the performance of the Lemon I hardly noticed the discomfort. My determination to own one was redoubled.
I finally bought my Guzzi from a man in Peterborough. It was a Mk1 with the top half of a Mk2 fairing and painted in a rather garish and distinctly non-standard green, white and red. Having ridden both an unfaired Mk1 and a fully equipped MK2, it soon became clear to me that the lack of fairing lowers was the cause of the rather alarming high speed wobble. Not being all that fond of the looks of the Mk2 I decided on fitting a frame mounted Crossbow full fairing. This resulted in rock steady handling up to an indicated 135mph.
As I got over the initial joys of ownership of my dream machine, several things became obvious. Firstly, the throttle was incredibly heavy - it really was like a test-your-strength machine. As the clutch is quite light, one may readily distinguish Lemon owners from lesser mortals by their uneven arms - the left normal, the right bulging with muscle due to the effort involved in holding the throttle open.
The brakes were brilliant; Guzzi's famous linked system allowed me to hold the anchors on harder and further into corners than any other machine I had ridden.
The Le Mans engine is surprisingly peaky. Any sort of enthusiastic overtaking manoeuvre requires at least 4500rpm. As the redline starts at 7750rpm this is not really a wide power band. The redline can be exceeded on occasion but this is not really necessary as once in the power band the Lemon responds with satisfying urgency.
Tight corners are hard work on a Lemon, but long sweeping bends are its natural habitat. On one occasion I was heading confidently towards a nice sweeping left-hander at LCS (Lemon Cruising Speed), ie 90mph. To my horror, as I changed up to fourth, I found a (rare) false neutral in the gearbox. There was no time to try and kick the beast back into gear (inadvisable in mid corner with a Guzzi shaft, anyway - Jap shafts are superior in this aspect).
Clenching my teeth and various sphincters I whizzed around in neutral at about 85mph - the bike went around as if on rails. I was impressed and more than slightly relieved.
The suspension comes with three settings - hard, rock hard and ouch! This obviously works best on smooth surfaces but the strength and rigidity of the frame enables the Lemon to handle even bumpy roads well, if not comfortably.
When I bought my bike it had Piranha electronic ignition fitted and wouldn't rev out in top. This wasn't too bad a fault as the bike would still do 135mph. The unit failed on a trip to Scotland and I replaced it with the original points as a temporary measure. To my amazement the bike ran better over the whole rev range and revved out in top, achieving an (obviously very optimistic) indicated 145mph.
Unfortunately, shortly after discovering the advantages of points, I had to sell the Guzzi due to some temporary financial embarrassment. One potential purchaser came back from a short blast visibly shaken. The combination of radical riding position (I'd fitted clip-ons, etc), Guzzi gearbox, heavy throttle and peaky engine had somewhat blown his mind. Take my advice, don't decide whether to buy a Lemon after only one short trial ride - coming from a Jap bike to a Guzzi, especially a Le Mans, is a big step. It takes time to get used to them and they do grow on you.
The Le Mans is not a perfect machine by any means. It is terrible around town and less than agile through the swevery. It is, however, a great sports tourer. You can jump on one and ride 250 miles at 90mph and not need to stop to refuel. You may need to stop to fix a bandage to your throttle wrist. However, you really do get used to the throttle and it saves the expense of buying a Bullworker. On sweeping bends a good Lemon pilot can keep up with most riders on Jap exotica.
When I took the Lemon to the TT I was overtaken by a lunatic on a GSXR1100. I tried so hard to keep up I over-revved the Guzzi and bent a valve. I didn't realise this at the time and ran the bike with no noticeable loss of performance for a year.
It may be a cliche, but the Le Mans really does have character and unlike most Ducatis of similar vintage is reliable when thrashed. Buy one if you can find one.
M.Moore
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It had taken a while until I arrived at the stage where I could lope along on the big Italian vee twin with a disgustingly large grin written across my face. First impressions were a distinct turn off. The gearbox was a nasty piece of work, both clutch and throttle outrageously heavy going and the shaft drive reaction very distracting. The test ride was not very impressive but the engine sounded okay and the owner only wanted 600 sovs. There were no other big bikes available at that kind of bargain price.
I was impressed with the ease with which the motor roared into life on cold winter mornings. And power flowed in with as little as 1500rpm up. The old motor rumbled rather like a tractor, but the torque hit was as good as the best of the old British twins.
The gearing was on the tall side, the horrible clutch needing to be slipped slightly when taking off from a standing start. 5000rpm in top was equivalent to 85mph, which made for a very relaxed touring poise; vibration being largely absent. I always knew that the vee twin was working, but the sensation was so pleasant that it could not really be described as vibration. It was echoed by the steadfast bark out of the stainless steel silencers that the previous owner had thoughtfully fitted. Even at 85mph there was enough power available to give a handy dose of acceleration to escape the attentions of mindless car drivers.
This was one of the Guzzis fitted with a 16" front wheel, an absurd pandering to the then race track fashion; one that did not sit well with the Guzzi's conservative steering nature. The T5 still felt quite sharp and stable, but certain combinations of bumps and angles of lean would cause the front forks to twitch. This would occur at about 60mph, which was tolerable, and at the top whack of 120mph, which tended to make me grab the brakes and roll off the throttle. Happily, stability in the 70 to 110mph range was good, with no frightening surprises.
A set of Koni shocks out back complemented the Paoli forks, both a reasonable compromise between comfort and tautness. They were probably no match for the latest Japanese stuff, but even with nearly 100,000 miles on the clock, at the time this is written, they are still more than tolerable. The major flaw in the handling is that the shaft drive will lock up solid if pendantic care isn't taken when doing down-changes. The novice Guzzi rider will find this tendency off-putting and despite nearly a decade's experience on other machines it took me a good six months before I had mastered the gearchanging. Even now, I am occasionally caught out.
The gearbox does not help any in this department, being the kind of device that would give even old Beemer owners nightmares. The key to successful changes is a very slow, firm action with a heavyweight boot and the developed feel for how the gears are meshing. A distinctly vintage feel, here. Luckily, as the bike has aged it has not become any more intransigent.
The linked brakes couldn't be better, though. A very powerful set-up, yet with a surprising amount of feedback. Pad life was poor (around 6000 miles) and the discs would turn to rust at the merest hint of rain, but apart from that I had no complaints. The calipers would need a clean up every 20,000 miles, but having owned some Jap iron that needed the whole braking system replaced at that kind of mileage this was acceptable. And, I've only had to change the brake fluid a couple of times.
Less enjoyable was sorting out the wiring, an old Guzzi complaint. Just about every switch, relay and bit of wiring needs replacing once more than 15000 miles are on the clock. The switches will actually fall apart if this ritual is ignored. The stock front light was adequate for sane speeding on unlit country roads and didn't blow very often. The horn was a pathetic bleep until it self-destructed. Breakers love these bikes, as they can off-load their surplus Japanese electrical parts.
Just to compound the electrical problems the generator wears out its bushes every 10,000 miles, or so. No great problem if you know it's going to happen but a pig if it occurs in the middle of nowhere, as happened to yours truly. Luckily, I managed to charge up the battery, after pushing the bike for about half a mile to a friendly village, which got me the 25 miles home. I took that as the hint I needed to do a complete electrical refurbishment. Apart from putting in new bushes every 10,000 miles, the electrics have since been very reliable.
As has the motor. The T5 has Nikasil bores which make rebores impossible but improves initial longevity. My bike is still on the original bores and pistons with 97,400 miles done. It has started to smoke a little and oil consumption is heavy - 80 miles per pint! It'll still rumble up to the ton and cruise at 80 to 90mph without feeling like it's about to tear itself apart, but the initial surge of high speed acceleration has long since gone.
With a windshield out front, the bike still makes an ideal long distance tourer. The tank holds over five gallons, which at 40 to 50mpg gives an easy 200 mile range. That's more than enough to test the comfort of the K & Q seat I'd fitted in favour of the rather hard stock saddle, which anyway fell apart at a mere 48000 miles. I have done over a 1000 miles of Continental touring in a day, and still been able to waste the night away in fine style.
Minor annoyances have included a throttle cable than snaps every 5-10,000 miles (despite attempts at rerouting it) and a universal shaft joint that is notorious for not lasting much more than 25000 miles. The latter I change every 20,000 miles to avoid on the road catastrophe whilst the former is catered to by the simple expedient of taping a spare cable alongside the existing one. An old ploy, long practised by riders of British machinery.
Another annoyance is the oil filter hidden away inside the sump - these Italians have a funny sense of humour! And, a rear tyre that doesn't last more than 4500 miles. The front is not much better, sixteen inch wheels being notorious for ruining rubber in short order. The older Guzzis would get almost twice the front tyre life. I have stuck with the cheaper Avons with no real cause for annoyance.
I can't complain, though, in the past five years and 64000 miles the bike has not cost me any major money and provided loads of fun filled riding now that I am used to its strangeness. I was so impressed with its general robustness that last year I was happy enough to head off for Europe on a 6000 mile canter around Spain and Italy, the latter especially appropriate as it was the home of the Guzzi.
Quite a few older Guzzis were spied, some had gone around the clock a couple of times! The climate there was rather less harsh than in the UK, most of the bikes having a better finish than my own pride and joy. I had to work hard on the T5 to keep up even a semblance of smartness. The frame had been resprayed twice and many minor parts rechromed.
I expect to break through the famed 100,000 barrier shortly and have secured a newish set of barrels and pistons to mark this event. I don't know how much wear I will find in the engine, but I've talked to some owners who have done more than 250,000 miles on similar machines. Their engines have obviously needed some quite major attention to achieve that but they are easy to work on, with an adequate supply of used parts found in the breakers.
Prices vary enormously, anywhere from £250 to £3000! The former will buy a non-runner with a minimum of useful parts. The latter, a really nice, low mileage, one owner job that should have loads of life left in it. I was lucky with mine, but for under a 1000 notes there are some nice big Guzzis on the market.
I was tempted by a Le Mans, but after the relaxed feel of my T5 everything felt very stressed - I loved the kick in the guts from the excess of torque! T5's are a bit of an acquired taste but once a firm friendship is made, they do tend to get into your soul. Every time the engine churns into life, I feel the blood flowing through my veins. Even the mundane commute into work is turned into an adventure. I bounce into the office full of the joys of life, looking forward to the trip home when the day turns pallid.
Mike Houston