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 OK 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 100000 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 pedantic 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 20000 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 theolock. 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 10000 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 10000 miles, the electrics have since been very reliable, as has the motor.
The T5 has Nikasil bores which make re-bores impossible but improves initial longevity My bike is still on the original bores and pistons with 97400 miles done. It has started to smoke a little and oil consumption is heavy - 80 miles per pint! lt'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 5-10000 miles (despite attempts at re-routing it) and a universal shaft joint that is notorious for not lasting much more than 25000 miles. The latter I change every 20000 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, 16" 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 100000 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 250000 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 grand 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 - l loved the kick in the guts from the excess of torque! T5s are a bit at 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 at the joys of life, looking forward to the trip home when the day turns pallid.
Mike Houston