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Honda have managed to go from filling the roads with large numbers of CX500s and VT500s, to making the Revere an extremely rare beast. The reason for this is very simple - they cost £3500 new. For that kind of money, or just a little extra, there are any number of bikes that go much faster, and just to confuse things even more, consume less fuel.
Technologically advanced, with its single sided swinging arm and wrap around frame, it might-be, but a bottom line of 55hp and rather odd styling means it’s been sidelined into a category reserved for the eccentric and rich. But in a world where good used bikes are becoming rare, the fact that a year old NTV with minimal miles on the clock can be picked up for £2500 should not be totally neglected. And the NTV is by no means a bad bike. Just a badly thought out one.
Ugh! The wheels look dreadful, the frame joins headstock and swinging arm mounting point with commendable directness, but the line of the frame conflicts with the angle of the cylinders and the horrible routing of the rear exhaust pipe will have all true engineers grasping for their hacksaw and welding torch. The sculptured tank and integrated sidepanel/ seat unit almost saves the day.
Sitting on the bike is a great improvement, as the seat is low, the bars and pegs well positioned and the gentle burble of the watercooled V-twin encouraging. First tgear, in the tradition of most shaft drive bikes, engages with a loud clunk and the bike can then be ridden off with minimal throttle.
V-twins have always had a reputation for relaxed riding and low speed torque development. The Honda is no exception with the bonus of a marked lack of vibration and nice precise feel to the controls, the gearchange excepted. The bike can be rolled along in fourth or fifth with the throttle just off closed and 30 to 40mph on the clock. Whacking open the throttle didn’t fluff the engine, nor did it propel the bike forward at a rapid rate. A deepening of the exhaust note was eventually followed by a rise in revs.
Playing with the gearbox like a madman made the thing move a bit faster, but there was no way it was ever going to come close to the arm wrenching lunacy of some middleweights... in fact, it felt very much like a British 650 in a mild state of tune.
The handling was rather good, though. This had little to do with its single sided swinging arm or its mono-shock suspension. It is well known amongst Jap manufacturers and the more experienced journos that there are few real advantages in mono-shock suspension, just a lot of nasty maintenance tasks thanks to exposed, grease nipple-less, suspension linkages. Good handling comes from geometry, strong frames, hefty swinging arms and well supported bearings at the headstock and swinging arms, not to mention decent suspension. All things that can easily be incorporated into twin shock set-ups.
Thus, the NTV’s prime features merely increase the price without giving any benefits. Backing off the throttle in comers upset the NTV a lot less that doing the same on a BMW or, worse still, a big Guzzi, but it felt a lot less safe in such a mode than a sixties Norton or my GPz500.
Apart from this, and a rear shock that didn’t take kindly to having two people on board, handling was commendably neutral and there was enough feedback to make wet weather riding a reasonable proposition.
Moronic designers who insist on putting a disc brake on the back wheel should be taken outside and given a public flogging. OK, if you’ve got a 900lb Harley with a dodgy front brake, then it just might be a good idea, but under normal circumstances it’s overkill of the most absurd and dangerous sort. The item fitted to the Honda was not sensitive enough to avoid locking up the back wheel and had the caliper placed in an even more ridiculous place than usual, just right to pick up the maximum amount of crud. Technologically advanced? What a fucking laugh!
Luckily, the huge single front disc, was of more reasonable design, although its power was sufficient to twist the forks when used in anger. In fact, after using a similar item on the GPz500, I’m convinced that it’s a much better idea to have two discs out front, despite the increases in complexity... I did a 500 mile in a day ride on the Honda, a mixture of motorway and fast A-roads. The Honda would cruise up to 90mph without complaint, faster speeds were uncomfortable due to wind blast and the need to rev beyond the power peak of 8000rpm, when vibes made an unwelcome appearance. After five minutes stretching my legs, I felt quite willing to jump on the bike again, something that could not be said of many, much larger machines. Even the nubile was still talking to me.
Just checking the valve clearances on the front cylinder looks like a difficult job, although, these days, most people just change the oil and hope for the best, so perhaps it doesn’t matter.
Fuel consumption, given the lack of go, was the usual appalling stuff, although, these days, averaging 50mpg appears to have many a youthful hack, just out of the cradle, applauding such dreadful thirst. The best that I managed was 63mpg and the worst was 32mpg, the owner reckoned he managed 54mpg, and he rode moderately most of the time. I suspect that the routing of the rear exhaust can’t help engine efficiency, neither does the routing of the carb inlets. Given technological advances, anything less than 80mpg is an insult. I mean, if British twins of similar performance could average 60 to 65mpg three decades ago just what do the Iaps think they are doing?
The rear tyre was worn out after 4500 miles and as the owner was an old chap this is pretty disgusting, but by no means exceptional. The front tyre had about another 1500 miles life left. The engine unit has been around in VT500 form long enough to iron out any minor problems, so should be long lived and reliable.
The NTV is a nice enough bike to run around on, but in no area really exceptional for a late 80s Jap. As a cheap hack, the engine and frame would certainly be useful, but that’s not an area that the NTV is aimed at. There is, I suppose, a market for bikes with the aura of quality - and it does have that - that BMW pursue with their overweight, underpowered slugs, and in that context the Honda is no worse value than a BMW.
As it stands, the new price is far too high although used prices are more reasonable. I suppose there are enough mechanically ignorant, disgustingly rich, half blind yuppies out there to sell a few new ’uns that the more discerning of us can then pick up for a song on the secondhand market.
CONTRACTION OF THE UK MARKET LEAVES THE DEALERS WITH A CHOICE OF COMPLETE CORRUPTION OR ACTUALLY GIVING THE PUBLIC SOME KIND OF REASONABLE SERVICE. The huge decline of the UK motorcycle market continues to leave observers gasping for breath. Each year the dealers hope there will be an upturn, but they are continually disappointed. Large dealerships shrink, while others go bust or relocate to damp sheds in back lanes. The reasons for this decline are complex, ranging from the ridiculous learner laws, the prohibitive cost of new motorcycles, the awful weather to the economic recession.
With little income to spend youths are just not able to buy new bikes, and anyone over twenty is confronted by the strange situation where a rapidly declining country inflicts horrendous rises on the cost of housing to the tune of four times the inflation rate. Given the choice of spending their lives in a grotty bedsit and riding a flash motorcycle, or mortgaging their lives for 25 years and riding to work on a five year old Honda 90, it's obvious which one is paramount in Thatcher's Britain. The few remaining motorcyclists have opted for a few machines that represent the ultimate development of the multi-cylinder motorcycle - Kawasaki and BMW's share of the market has actually increased in face of overwhelming odds .
To sell a new motorcycle,these days, the maker needs a cast iron reputation for reliability and longevity, as well as motorcycles that excel in their particular field. Get it just slightly wrong and the bikes begin to pile up in the warehouses.
Because so few new learners have taken up motorcycling since '79, fewer and fewer people are available to buy the bigger machines. With little by the way of home industry to worry over, the government is free to impose increasing taxes and stupid laws, further restricting the number of punters. Because of this, the relatively buoyant second hand market has begun to suffer and 1986 will see many dealers who have depended on used bike sales in 1985 going bust. Indeed, last year, it often occurred that dealers were selling used bikes for less than people were asking in private sales. As the situation becomes more desperate for dealers, they will increasingly have to resort to more and more nasty activities in order to survive. The few decent dealers with proper mechanics will be forced to drastically cut back on both overheads and hourly charges , but they will stay in business on the hope of an upturn in the 1990s. The antics of the cowboys, who if they had the cash would doubtless be happy slum landlords or used car dealers, are not restricted to the backlane boys. Dubious practices are becoming the norm for long established dealers. A tale of one North London dealer aptly illustrates this point. This dealer was recommended by various acquaintances as being both honest and reputable. Selling a 1981 BMW R65 for £799, they assured me that the 23000 miles on the clock was correct, and that the rattling head on the one cylinder merely required a service.
I didn't buy the bike because the alloy on the engine casings was very corroded as if the bike had been standing for a long time,and the paint on the tank was worn through, something I figured would take a lot more than 20000 miles. I later learned that the bike had nearly 100000 miles on the original clock and was seized. This dealer ran a breakers as a sideline and had swapped over the cylinder from a crashed bike, and used that bike's clock to con some poor sucker into parting with their cash. The odds are pretty good that the other cylinder would have given trouble within a few thousand miles. Just for the fun of it I rang the breakers to ask about the used R65 engine they were advertising. Naturally, it was a low mileage job out of a crashed bike that they assured should be in perfect condition. And, no, there wasn't a guarantee...
The above is probably a fairly mild example, after all it's unlikely to actually endanger anyone's life, just lose them a lot of cash. The more lucrative and dangerous activity of repairing crashed bikes has become a minor industry over the past few years. It's impossible to buy crashed bikes directly from an insurance company on a one off basis, but the cost of the bikes is so low for breakers that there are large margins for profit. Many are the badly repaired bikes that find their way into the classified adverts masquerading as private adverts, so that there's no comeback when things go wrong.
Buying used motorcycles, then, has become a bad scene. With dealers unlikely to pay more than £400 for a bike they can sell for £1000, unwilling to back up their sales with cheap and efficient after-sales service, and often trying to sell machines that should have been scrapped, there seems little reason to ever enter a dealers showroom again. This is especially true, because dealers have become rather short tempered and non communicative as their profits disappear and overheads keep on increasing. Until they mend their ways they will just keep on going bust.
Of course, there is another side to the motorcycle market that is very exciting for motorcyclists who want to find a bargain. With few new riders and large quantities of unsold motorcycles on the used market, it is a buyers market. It's a market where a new middleweight bike can be discounted by 20% to shift it out of the showroom, and then immediately lose another quarter of its value. Little wonder that so few new bikes are sold.
The problem with used bikes is knowing how well they have been maintained, and how long they are likely to last. There are some motorcycle engines that will just keep on running, regardless of how ill treated they are, while there are others, especially those rushed onto the market recently, that have inherent faults that will do nasty things to bank balances. Also, many of the new design innovations, such as monoshock suspension, do not last very well when subjected to English winters and, unlike conventional suspension systems, require constant maintenance - maintenance that is often, not possible because the designer didn't bother with grease nipples. In trying to figure out the merits of various designs, simplicity and lack of excess are often the only criteria to fall back upon.
The Used Motorcycle Guide covers most of the motorcycles (over 100cc) of the past twenty years, a period when there have been a vast array of designs and models. This makes life both interesting and confusing. In this issue we survey most of the bikes on offer, in future issues we'll look at some of the bikes in greater detail and at ways of running motorcycles on the minimum of cash.
Covering Jap, European and British bikes, we intend to concentrate on bikes that are both fun and practical, rather than be sidetracked into the classic bike ball game, where, anyway, most British classics are far from practical when used hard and neglected. Bill Fowler
The first shock on purchasing a TZR125 is the price. This wasn’t helped by the fact that I also ordered the full fairing and powervalve kit. The fairing was £200 and the powervalve £66 extra. The full price of a derestricted TZR in 1987 was thus £1666, over double the price of my RD125LC purchased in 1982.
The extras had to be ordered so the next shock was the dismal performance in 12hp form. I dutifully ran the bike in as per the handbook. After 500 miles, I began building up to full throttle. The first time I gave it a burst of full throttle I was disappointed to find that top speed, with my 12 stone weight aboard, was about 70mph. The engine was reluctant to rev over 8000rpm, and there was no sudden step in power that appeared on my LC at 6000rpm.
The 12hp limit creates in the TZR, and other restricted 125s, the absurd situation whereby the bike is more dangerous than if it .was not restricted. Acceleration is mediocre, and several times when I attempted to overtake cars I found that I was flat out and had nothing left causing potentially dangerous situations to arise.
The 125 TZR has a single cylinder, reed valve, two stroke engine, liquid cooling and, a six speed gearbox. Electrics are 12V with electronic ignition, an excellent headlamp and wide rear lamp with twin bulbs. The steel Deltabox frame is massive for a 125 and is complemented by fat tyres and hefty forks.
The engine is noisier than an LC with an exhaust note that sounds more like a four stroker, lacking any of the tinny sounds that some two strokes exhibit. But silencing is so good that pedestrians leap into your path, equating a lack of noise with a lack of vehicle. In 12hp form there is no sharp power step - something learners may be thankful for - and torque production is such that frenetic gear changing is not necessary, even on steep hills.
The gearbox action is poor, not helped by the length of the final drive chain, itself subject to excessive snatching. The chain wears rapidly despite frequent lubrication - the first was replaced after only 6000 miles. Tyre life was not brilliant, either, at 5500 miles, although this was better than my LC! The front tyre still has plenty of life left after 9000 miles. The original Jap tyres gripped well even in the wet, and I was sufficiently impressed by them to fit a new one on the back.
The major plus of the TZR is the superb handling. In two years of riding in all conditions I can’t fault it. Bumps in the middle of the road had no effect and the bike wasn’t knocked off line. Yamaha’s vast racing experience is very much in evidence.
After some months, the full fairing which I had ordered arrived. This Yamaha fairing was made in Italy! After the fairing was fitted, top speed improved to 75-80mph and fuel consumption went from 70 to 80mpg - but weather protection was hardly improved; it was still necessary to wear waterproofs in the rain. The fairing did, however, stop the wind buffeting and made long runs less tiring. With the ability of cruising between 45 and 70mph, the bike was quite practical for long runs, neither boring nor uncomfortable.
Sometime later, the powervalve arrived, which sharpened up the motor throughout the rev range. Top speed improved to 85mph, but this was still below the 90mph achieved by my LC, fitted with larger jets and Microns. Acceleration was also below LC standards.
Another fault with the bike appeared a few months ago. Leaving the Yam on its sidestand to close the garage door, I heard a loud crash and turned to see my pride and joy on its side. The clip-on handlebar and gear lever had taken the worst of the impact - would you believe £34 for the clip-on and £12 for the gear lever? A few months later the same thing happened again with exactly the same result - this time I straightened the bits. I had to purchase a paddock stand to be able to adjust the chain. Fitting just a sidestand is quite ridiculous on a bike of this cost My Yamaha dealer tells me he does a roaring trade in bars, etc. Few car owners would put up with such nonsense!
Reliability has been very good, something I’ve come to expect from Yamaha two strokes, my LC has done 34000 miles so far. In summary, I am somewhat disappointed with the TZR’s performance which I expected to be better than the LC, but it does have superb styling and handling.
[The pictured bike still exists at the time of posting this article!]
I bought the Yamaha XS500 vertical twin from my brother with 24000 miles on the clock. It was generally clean, ran OK and I paid him £300 for it. I was quite pleased with the bike and had many trouble free miles, mixed commuting, touring home and abroad, and going to rallies all year round. It was a C model, known in the trade as the oval port model.
The XS500 was first introduced into the UK in its B model form and came with twin front discs, wire wheels and chrome guards. That was in ’75. The cylinder head usually leaked oil everywhere as it was a two piece job - the rocker/cam box bolted to the top of the cylinder head leaking oil at its joint. It was never a serious threat as a separate oil pipe supplied the oil, it merely leaked out on its return. The later one piece head fits the early model and solves the problem (as long as you change the carbs at the same time).
The frame is the same but tank, seat and bodywork were restyled, along with different brakes and cast wheels. The C model had a disc rear brake which shared the wet weather lag with the front - solved by fitting Ferodo F1 pads (they’re also cheaper and last longer). Seizing up the calipers was not a problem as long as the bike was in regular use and the brakes serviced annually. All parts are exchangeable between models to a greater or lesser extent. The squarer tank and seat of later bikes will fit earlier models with a bit of modification to the brackets. Though the clocks look identical to those on the RDs the gearing is different.
Lighting was rubbish. The easiest and cheapest way to cure this was to take a trip to the nearest car breakers. Sealed beam units are dirt cheap and fit straight into the Yam headlight. The stock unit just scatters its meagre 45 watts all over the place. I eventually fitted a Cibie Z beam unit with a halogen bulb -- the best light I’ve ever had on a bike. The tail light is fitted with two double filament bulbs, nice and bright and no worry if one bulb has decided it’s had enough.
The C model was the quickest of the four models produced. The only change to the D engine, other than an easier method of balance chain adjustment, was to make the exhaust ports round rather than oval. On the C model it was necessary to remove the generator cover to adjust the balance chain whereas the next model had a small porthole fitted. The D model had new carbs, inlet stubs, air filter box and automatic vacuum petrol taps. The E model runs both hotter and leaner than all the others, so one grade hotter spark lugs are in order -- the E model) goes slower than the others.
Some XS500s seem to expire early, but if it's got more than 20000 miles on the clock it’ll probably keep going up to around 50000 miles when minor engine work is necessary - new balance chain, reground valves. Camchains can last a lot longer than that and bearings, pistons and bores seem not to wear unduly.
The B and C models were good for 120mph, the D model 115mph and the E model only 105mph. The easiest way to improve the last model is to fit earlier carbs. The fuel consumption reflected the performance, 50mpg was the norm on earlier bikes but I’ve had 70mpg on the E model.
The engine is a DOHC unit with four valves per cylinder and looks very complicated. In reality, it’s one of the easiest bikes that I have worked on. The valve actuation is by forked rockers, adjustment by allen key and spanner - they rarely need doing. The balance shaft chain tension also rarely needs doing, again adjustment is by allen key. Ignition timing is as easy as most Jap bikes - adjust the points and line up the marks when the bulb goes out. Most of these adjustments were done at 4000 miles with the oil changed at 2000 miles. Most of the time they didn’t need doing and the checks were extended to every 6000 and then 8000 miles.
One of the few problems with the XS500 is its sensitivity to exhausts. There are not many after-market systems that work as well as the standard system, itself heavy, complex and quick rusting. Don’t even think about a 2-1 as either the top end or bottom end power will disappear. A Campbell replica is the best bet. Handling, as standard, is reasonabIe. You are very much aware of the mass of the bike.
Most of that weight comes from the engine. After much experimentation I found it necessary to increase the damping at the front end - this was done by using 50% 20/50 oil mixed with 50% fork oil. The standard back shocks soon wear out, becoming hot and bothered on bendy back roads. S & W’s sorted that out. Handling then became taut and very, very stable.
The stock tyre sizes are 3.25x19 at the front and 3.50x18 at the back. I tried various tyres and ended up with Dunlop TT100s. But I soon found it was worthwhile to go up one size to 4.10x19 and 4.25x18. Then Arrowmaxes appeared on the scene, so I fitted 100/ 90 at the. front and 110/90 at the back. These were by far the best tyres I’ve tried, they really suited the bike. Like a lot of Jap bikes, the XS500 is very funny about its tyres. No doubt, I could have spent a lot more money on very flash tyres, but the Arrowmaxes were available at discount prices, which made them a good buy. Tyre wear averaged around 9000 and 11000 miles back and front respectively, although on long hot summers with a lot of scratching thrown in that became 6000 and 8000 miles.
Brakes were more than adequate, pad wear averaged 12000 miles at the front and the back ones go on for ever. On paper, the engine power may not look very impressive, but the low down torque is very noticeable when riding, so although it is red-lined at 9000rpm, you tend to change gear very early - 3000 to 4000rpm. This seems to give the engine a very easy life. There is quite a power step at 5000rpm, so you can still have fun red-lining it. There are different sprocket sizes available for the gearbox and wheel, so you can change the gearing to suit your particular riding style - usual gearing equates to 80mph at 6000rpm. Very lazy stuff for a 500.
My XS500 started out as a C model, but after many miles it had various D and E parts fitted. It is still in regular use, although after many rallies, touring trips and clocking up 69150 miles I parted with it. I still see the bike and it now has 73534 miles to its credit.
Worn parts? Well, shortly after getting it I neglected to check the valve clearances correctly. One burnt out valve and seating later, it was cheaper to replace the head with a second hand one than to buy a new valve and reseat the head.
The carbs started getting messy at 50000 miles so I fitted some later ones I had kicking about. I reground the valves at the same time and fitted a new balance chain. The camchain is still standard - it’s a ruddy great double row job and will probably outlast the rest of the bike.
The XS500 does look a complicated old girl but is surprisingly easy to work on and service. The motor can be stripped down with only one special tool - a bolt type puller which just happens to have the same thread size as a tow bar bolt - Halfords, two for 98p; These bikes can be picked up for around £250 in fair condition and then tailored to suit the rider. My experience tells me they can be made to go on and on. I got rid of mine for a Suzuki 650 Katana, but then that’s another story.
I’d almost given up when I turned up to look at a Honda 400 four advertised in the local rag. When I saw it all reservations were thrown out of the window. This was just what I’d been looking for - 11000 miles, bog standard, 12 months MOT, serviced regularly, garaged; even the mudguards had been clear plastic coated. £350 was a reasonable price, any thoughts of knocking the price down were forgotten when I saw the gleam in the eye of a rival punter who arrived 10 minutes later, pacing up and down ready to pounce.
First impressions were of a compact machine with a neat riding position, the rearset pegs suited to my six foot frame, the taut frame and stiff suspension (compared to the GT380 and CD175 I'd owned before) were a revelation, the lack of bottom end power compensated by a nice power surge at 6000rpm. That 20 mile ride home along country lanes convinced me I’d made the right choice.
The next few summer months of 1983 saw 3000 miles under its wheels with trips to Scotland and the Lake District. The harder I rode, the more I noticed the lack of ground clearance, the ends of the footpegs wearing away. The handling was stable on smooth roads but above 80mph on bumpy sweepers the bike oscillated around the steering head, which I put down to fork flex since the steering head bearings were OK and I’d replaced the fork oil. The acceleration was adequate up to about 85mph, then it flattened off. It would hit 95mph flat out. I only saw the ton a few times - flat on the tank - and 105mph with a howling gale behind me.
Maintenance was limited by a lack of funds, although the oil was changed every 1000 miles, the oil filter at 2000 miles and the points needed frequent adjustment as they tend to close up, making the bike very difficult to start and producing much backfiring. I kept the bike cleaned and pampered as I had plenty of time for polishing, and regarded such effort as protecting my investment. Almost all of my dole money went on it, and it was a relief when I found that keeping the revs below 5000rpm gave 60 and even 70mpg. It never dropped below 45mpg even when thrashed.
A new tyre, a Dunlop TT100, and a set of brake shoes meant a fortnight without riding; frustration relieved by throwing darts at an election leaflet of Maggot von Hatchet and her cronies. Come September I’d got a sponsored MSc place at college, with expenses calculated for public transport, which helped pay for tyres, oil, chains, tax, etc. The daily run was a 40 mile round trip, a mixture of motorway and winding dual carriageway, with plenty of roundabouts to make it interesting. I soon learnt the route like the back of my hand and the thrash there and back was often the highlight of a rotten day.
On a few occasions every month this journey was enlivened by a prat in a two litre Ford Crappy who insisted on sitting six inches from my tail on the motorway, who would creep past smirking when I pulled over. Once on the dual carriageway he would almost hang out the back end of his car trying to keep ahead. Once I got past I could leave him for dead through the curves and roundabouts.
One morning I chased a Yam 250LC, which took off when he saw me in his mirror. We appeared evenly matched on top end but he had the edge on acceleration while I could take him through the roundabouts. We came to a long right-hand 80mph sweeper, which would have been a 80mph sweeper had not there been a nasty dip at its apex. When the LC hit this at 80mph, it went into wild oscillating acrobatics as it hit the dip, weaved into the kerb and tossed the rider onto the tank. I prepared to stop, but at the last moment he somehow recovered - had a car been in the left hand lane he would’ve been a goner. As I came alongside, he grinned weakly, looking pale. I accelerated away with a wave but he didn’t follow... a good knowledge of the road is worth at least 10HP.
With the approach of the colder weather, a few annoying problems surfaced, the first one familiar to most SOHC Honda four owners was misfiring in the wet. True to form, my bike would manage about. five miles on wet roads before cutting onto three cylinders (always fancied a Laverda) then two cylinders. Funnily enough, it always managed to get me home, albeit with the indignity of being passed by Beetles and 2CVs. Heavy spraying with WD40 helped a little - it went ten miles before misfiring. However, the more WD40 I used the more the HT leads rotted, expanded and allowed more water in. Even new HT leads, plug caps and half a tin of grease on the coils failed to stop the bugger playing up - it did manage 15 miles before cutting out.
Another problem was a squealing, binding front brake. A quick examination revealed a seized caliper bracket sliding pin - obviously a naff design which Honda dropped on their later bikes. With the caliper mounted in a vice and soaked in WD40 (I was using a can a week), I worked the pin back and forth with much squeaking and managed to partially free it, but even waving the welding torch at it failed to free it completely.
The piston was freed off with a G-clamp, working the piston back and forth. Reassembled, I found the brake had stopped binding, but continued squealing an groaning. This was a problem I never really cured. Once winter really set in, I found myself frozen to the bone despite the thermals, three jerseys, two pairs of jeans, four pairs of socks, boots and waterproofs. I was thrashing the bike mercilessly to college convinced that the adrenalin would keep me a bit warmer.
Tired of cleaning the bike every other day, I cleaned it thoroughly, then coated all the cycle parts, wheels, forks, frame, shocks, even the engine side cases in a layer of grease. Of course, after a few days the accumulated salt and filth looked absolutely disgusting but a reassuring wipe wit the finger revealed shiny metal underneath. I left it on until the spring, and restricted the Solvol and polishing sessions to the exhaust system which needed a good clean every week if I was to keep ahead of the dreaded brown rash.
Just after the Christmas holidays, with 21000 miles on the clock, I decided to change the camchain. I’d heard tales of how they’d snap without warning and although sceptical, I’d begun to imagine the carnchain rattle becoming worse. Anyway, with the engine out and on the bench I became annoyed that the replacement of a single chain meant a complete stripdown. I knew it was going too smoothly when after the carbs and head came off without mishap, the clutch centre nut refused to budge. Tiring of the subtle approach, a chisel and two pound hammer resulted in a shattered piece of nut flying off. After a bit of ranting and raving, I reluctantly decided to take the engine to the dealers.
The clutch nut was undone, by mechanics who normally lounged around bored out of their heads, with a special Honda tool - in seconds - and replaced with a new one. Imagine my disgust when I was informed that I need not even have taken the engine out of the frame - apparently, even the dealers split the old chain and feed the new one in, riveting it back together. They split the old camchain for me and tied it up with wire, refusing payment. I left a few quid for liquid refreshment. Back home, the reassembly went smoothly. New oil and filter, eagerly I started it up to find that after all the effort it sounded exactly the same as before. Ah well, peace of mind.
The drive chain was replaced a month later, having done at least 10,000 miles, no doubt helped by frequent Linklyfe baths and the smooth power delivery. I never replaced the front tyre or brake pads, the wear so slight that it was almost unnoticeable, a dubious benefit of having such a weak front anchor. Arrival of the spring sunshine saw lots of other 400 fours around, most of them with the same boring blue colour scheme as mine - I did a red with black/white stripe paint job inspired by, of all things, a Ducati Darmah. Matt black on the cylinder barrel and head completed the effect, turning the bike into a sharp little head turner.
A new set of Koni shocks purchased at an absurdly low price from a breakers improved the handling on bumpy bends - they were softer and better damped than the originals. The end of college and the start of a job made the lure of a bigger bike too hard to resist. It wasn’t until the bike was advertised that I realised how much I’d miss it. Sold for £25 more than I paid for it, with 29000 miles on the clock, I’m sure the squealing brake sounded like crying when I deposited the bike outside the new owner’s home.
If you can live with the relative lack of power, they really are great little bikes, the combination of reliability, handling, riding position, economy and all-round competence is hard to beat at the price. Finding a low mileage example at a reasonable price may be difficult these days, but it’s worth the effort. Alternatively, there are so many knackered ones around you can buy two non-runners for next to nowt and make a good ’un out of the pair.
I bought the 400/4 through a private advert in the local evening paper. The bike looked virtually immaculate when I first looked at it, just a little rust on the exhaust pipes and the mudguards. The bike was yellow, 1978, T reg, with 20000 miles on the clock. It had been fitted with a baffle-less Marshall four into one, Boysen ignition, Marzocchi shocks and nearly new Avon Roadrunner tyres. The oil filter bolt was well chewed up, so I guessed the bike might need a good service. When the engine was fired up, the shot camchain rattle was loud. We agreed a price of £350 (a good ’un was worth around £500 in 1984).
As this was my first multi-cylinder bike I took the Honda to a dealer for camchain replacement. He charged me £90, showed. me all the worn parts and told me why the chain had failed so early - if the chain isn’t adjusted regularly it will thrash around and cut into the pivot on the tensioner mechanism. The spring can’t move the tensioner, so camchain play is unchecked. Anyone replacing the chain should check that the tensioner still works or it won’t last very long. The dealer recommended adjusting the tensioner every two weeks.
The oil filter bolt took all afternoon to remove - I eventually had to file two flats to give the mole grips some leverage and whack the bolt with a hammer (sounds more like a big hammer and chisel job to me - Ed). A pattern bolt with a larger nut is available. The valves would have been easy to adjust had not the opening in the cylinder head been so small - the end of the feeler gauge had to be bent at 80 degrees, making it difficult to judge whether the correct gap had been achieved.
During my year of ownership, the bike always started first prod of the starter every morning. The choke was shut off within a few minutes as the engine warmed up quickly. The exhaust (after I’d added some baffles) growled beautifully, giving the impression of a powerful machine. When accelerating, the bike felt much more useful above 5500rpm when it felt most happy.
Performance is quite good, accelerating up to 85mph with ease. The remaining 15mph, to reach the ton, needs a prone rider with a tail wind and a steep hill. Even in 5th, the bike would not reach 90mph on the flat, it just hasn’t the power. I even had the bike checked over and set up expertly by a dealer with a good tuning reputation, but the performance was still the same. I had expected 105mph after reading the tests in various magazines. A VT250 can sail past at the ton and CB250RSs can keep up.
Despite this, as soon as the road turns twisty the CB400F can make up the distance because it handles so well. I could ground the exhaust and footrests and it felt safe and rock steady no matter how fast or whatever the angles of lean, even with leaking rear shocks. Economical the bike was not, averaging only 41mpg. I once rode the bike with great restraint and was rewarded with 43mpg! Normally, I’m a little throttle happy, illustrated by the fact that a DT175 I once owned only did 50mpg when the previous owner was getting 77mpg. Perhaps the jetting wasn’t right for the Marshall exhaust?
The rear drum brake was very good with plenty of control and power. The front disc was just adequate in the dry, but had barely any effect in the wet even with Verrah wet weather pads fitted. Once, approaching the end of a dual carriageway in the wet, I applied the front brake with both hands on the lever. I would have slowed down faster if I had put my feet down, it was so poor. No wonder the pads lasted for so long.
A famous trick of 400/4s is to cut out in the wet, and mine was no exception. I fitted the longest plug caps I could find and sprayed everything with WD40 every two weeks. This cured the cutting out, but if I ever forgot the spraying, the engine would cut out at the first sign of water, rendering the bike immobile.
During the year I owned the bike, I only bought standard service items like oil and air filters. Nothing broke or fell off, it just started and. ran perfectly every day. The rear tyre had lasted 8000 miles with a good 1000 miles still left in it. The drive chain was treated to Linklyfe every three months and didn’t wear much. After 28000 miles the engine was still in good shape with no blue smoke. I sold the bike for £400 to the first of five callers, proving that this model is still in popular demand.
I was very pleased with the bike overall, its lack of top end go being overshadowed by its great handling, looks and solid, well built feel. If anyone is contemplating buying one - go ahead, they are great and one of the few bikes that will retain their value.
Me on an XJ750 with a tank bag, giant throw-overs and a huge orange bag strapped to the pillion seat. Simon on an XS550 (stop laughing) with his fiancee (my sister) on the pillion seat. At least the luggage didn’t keep on yelling at me to slow down. The trip was only vaguely planned.
Get over to France and head south: "Biarritz sounds nice." A late night ferry, Portsmouth to Cherbourg, boring and uneventful (thank god). We arrived in Cherbourg at 7.00am, follow the rest of the traffic out onto the RN13, keeping an eye out for the D2. 30 minutes later we are hopelessly lost, wandering around unmarked country lanes; cold, wet and miserable. The sky overcast and drizzling, no trace of the sunshine we expected to magically appear on this side of the Channel.
However, God takes care of fools and idiots (we had one of each and a spare for emergencies) suddenly we were on the right road, headed in the right direction. The roads in France are, mostly, a dream. Smooth and well made, little traffic and almost no cops. We cruised at 90mph most of the time, flowing into the rhythm of the smooth curves, open countryside and sudden crossroads. You tend to forget that these roads aren’t motorways until a sign says 'Give Way' in French and you’re doing 90mph or more as you shoot past. Keeps you alert, anyway.
Despite the high cruising speed we didn’t seem to be covering much of the map. France is a big place, neither bike would do much more than 110 miles on a tankful of petrol at high speeds and ’Her Majesty’ was in frequent need of a toilet - the vibes, y’know.
We hammered on, following the signs from one city to the next, as the sun began to shine and the temperature soared. Rennes, Nantes, Roche, La Rochelle, Saintes, Bordeaux. And all the towns and villages in between, all a vague blur now. But the roads, ah! I remember the roads. Long and smooth, straight and twisting, warm and dry. Perfect. There is a space warp in the southern suburbs of Bordeaux that catches unwary motorcyclists. We stopped in those innocent looking streets at 6.30pm for a cigarette and to figure out where we might stay the night. At 7.30, after three attempts at leaving them, we’re back where we started. Having a very limited amount of schoolboy French I was appointed the party's linguistics expert.
"Parlez vous Francais," I said to a kindly biker who was just mounting his Tenere. "Non," he replied. Then I pointed to the map and he pointed down the road. Perfect communication. At 9.00pm, 450 miles south of Cherbourg, we stopped at a small hotel in the village of Le Barps. £15 for the night for all three of us. We slept the sleep of the totally knackered.
The following day dawned bright and warm as we set off early. Biarritz was not far, so we meandered down a coast road in the French version of the New Forest. The temperature rose faster than the sun forcing layers of clothing to be torn off, a winding tree lined road, glorious sunshine and no particular place to go. Seems like a dream now.
Bidart is a small village just past Biarritz. We stopped at a campsite there and managed to hire a tent. £10 a night for a huge, four berth tent with its own fridge, cooker, camp beds and cooking utensils. The campsite was beautiful, clean, not crowded, good amenities and right on the beach. We spent an afternoon in the sea and sun, and in the evening we went into Biarritz to explore. Dinner at a sidewalk restaurant, a street rock show and a balmy evening. It was just an interlude until the next day’s hard riding.
Ever ridden a 150 miles in a strange country, on the wrong side of the road, in the pouring rain? Don’t bother, it’s not much fun. The rain stopped when we arrived in Lourdes, so we parked up the bikes and stowed away the wet weather gear. Naturally, it started raining again. We wandered around Lourdes for a couple of hours, trying to find somewhere with a little dignity, some sense of what happened there. The dignity of Lourdes has been sacrificed on the altar of tourism, in the church of the Holy Gift Shop. But then, we were tourists as well. We left Lourdes feeling depressed, because of the town and because we were soaking wet, inside and out. 50 miles later we found another little village hotel and shuffled dejectively inside.
The fourth day was going to be a mad dash for the Mediterranean coast. At the lovely Biarritz campsite we had been given the address of another campsite where we would be able to hire a tent, at Port Crimaud, near St. Tropez. We set off under another downcast sky, hoping to find better weather. We found some sunshine and beautiful roads, as we howled along the N117, avoided Toulouse more by luck than judgement, then avoided the Autoroute by using the N113. By midday it was so hot that even our excessive speed couldn’t keep us cool.
Carcassonne, Narbonne, Beziers and Montpelier all passed into a blurred montage of images. The only places we could be sure of seeing were petrol stations every 100 miles or so. Once again our cruising speed was high but we weren’t getting anywhere very fast.
When we filled up with gas in Salon we decided to use Autoroute A7 and turn up the wick a little more. Motorways, are boring, but at least the French ones are less so than ours. They wind crazily through the mountains and twist back and forth through the hills in a series of sweeping left and right hand curves that mega-bike owners dream of. Neither of us had a mega-bike but we had a lot of fun. With the speedo stuck on 110mph we had the outside lane to ourselves. At that speed my bike weaved slightly, and my sister was severely battered by the wind blown up by the XS. My weave never got any worse and Simon’s ribs were already a mass of bruises so we pushed on.
Despite having to stop twice for tolls, and despite leaving the motorway at the wrong exit and having to get back on it, we covered more than a 100 miles in an hour. More importantly, the winding road, the bike and the speed combined into a curiously calming, yet exhilarating experience that I would not have missed.
Eventually, we arrived at Port Grimaud, a not so charming little place that seemed to consist entirely of huge campsites. At the campsite we had been told of, we asked the local rep if we could rent a tent and he informed us that he didn’t have any. We mentioned that his supervisor had sent us to him and he then remembered that there were a few vacant tents... Filthy, dingy, mosquito infested shit hole is the kindest description I can give of that tent and the campsite reverberated all night to the cries of the worst type of tourist - the drunken British yob. We stayed the night for lack of anywhere else to go, but got no sleep with the noise and the insects eating us alive. In the morning we left without paying and felt no guilt.
Motoring gently along the coast road we stopped at a small campsite at La Gaillarde and asked if we could rent something - a tent, caravan, anything. God was looking after the fools again, because all that was left to rent was a room. Actually a converted garage with three beds, clean sheets and blankets, a fridge, a cooker and even its own little terrace, all for £10 per night. We stayed there for eight days.
Using the campsite as a base we made forays up and down the coast every day. St Tropez (dirty and smelly), Cannes (over-rated and over-crowded), Nice (too big to enjoy a short visit), Monte Carlo (£5 for three Cokes) and many other places. Most days we swam in the Med before or after our journeys and spent a relaxing hour or two on the beach.
Our base was halfway between St Maxirne and St Raphael and we’d normally eat in one of those two towns or take something back to our garage. Every day was clear, sunny and hot. One day, riding through the hills a few miles inland, the heat was so intense that we honestly wondered if we could bear to come back to the UK.
We reluctantly decided to head for home 'via the centre of France and the Central Massif, giving - ourselves two and a half days to reach Cherbourg. Onto the N7 and blast along to Aix-en-Provence, Avignon, Orange, Montelimar. Then left towards Aubenas on the N102, one of the world’s great motorcycle roads. The tarmac was as smooth as a baby’s bum, the road twists and winds through every conceivable type and. combination of bend whilst rising, higher and higher into the mountains. The drop to one side became daunting, the scenery became even more breathtaking. At one point you can see a mountain in the distance whose entire top is a chateau, the mountain’s sides becoming the walls of a castle. But even that wasn’t all that important in the scheme of things. Only the road, the bike and the sunshine mattered. And when it was over we wanted to start again. On we went, to Le Puy, Clermont and Montlucon. At La Chapelaude, 10km past Montlucon, we decided to stop for the night. ‘ Some local people helped us find Mme Simone Petit, who had a Gite, basically a farm that took in a few paying guests. She was incredibly helpful and friendly, cooked us a glorious meal, served us with wine and coffee, and showed us into a clean, bright room with soft, welcoming beds.
We left the next day, refreshed and relaxed, in less of a hurry now but anxious to get home. Through Chatearoux, Tours, Le Mans, Alencon and Caen. We stopped for our last night about an hour away from Cherbourg at another , farm, nearly but not quite as good as the previous one. The last day of our holiday dawned cold and foggy but soon brightened up. Instead of a fast ride. along the N13 we chose a leisurely three hour ride down the country lanes and back roads, even stopping for a while at Omaha beach, of D-day landing fame. Then it was Cherbourg and the ferry home. A last blast along the dual carriageway and motorways to Bournemouth and it’s all over.
Over 2500 miles in two weeks. At times we were tired, depressed, cold, miserable, wet and wondering where we would be staying the next night. But the things we saw, the people we met and the experiences we had more than made up for those minor inconveniences. Try it for yourself.
Having picked up the bike from South London, my first ride on the 850 Le Mans Mk1 was the journey necessary to get it home to Essex. This involved an immediate dive into the Saturday morning shopping traffic milling about the South Circular Road.
Although, fortunately, already used to Guzzis, two things threatened to be something of a problem straight off. One was a very tall first gear which can’t be used properly at less than 30mph, so lots of clutch slip was involved which really tests the old forearm muscles in slow trickling traffic queues. The other is that the snatchy clutch is apparently intended for the specific purpose of aiding gear selection while on the move only, as it has a marked penchant for dragging suddenly without notice. Sitting still with the clutch lever pulled in at traffic lights it can’t understand at all; it keeps trying to go all the time.
After not very many minutes into the journey my next discovery was that this wasn't going to be such a problem as might be feared in fact, there were not too many occasions when my forward progress was held up to any great extent. In some magical fashion, great gaps continually opened up in front of me and most other road users appeared to cower to one side.
This had a great deal to do with the threatening aspect of the after-market half race fairing, together with my own businesslike racers crouch brought about by the clip-on bars and home-made dural rearsets. Not forgetting of course, the raucous thunder and crackle of the Lafrancono competition ’silencers' reverberating off every wall. The bike spelled it out very plainly to all and sundry. Get out of my effing way or else.
Grinning hugely, I made it to the A2 for the Dartford Tunnel in quite a short time. The high compression, 844cc motor was very flexible. Leaps through the gaps in traffic needed little more than a quick flick of the wrist to excite the accelerator pumps of the extravagant, filter-less, 36mm DellOrtos. The bike showed its disdain at having to shut off with a snarling, spitting overrun, much to the alarm of its next prey, the car immediately in front.
It’s been like that more or less ever since. Few car drivers seem to want to tangle with such a crude, loud, horribly aggressive motorcycle. I fitted high powered, dual electric horns, but more often than not they just need a quick test now and again to make sure they still work. Once out in the countryside on the three lane dual carriageway A2, I discovered that at 70mph it's just starting to go properly. At 50mph it feels so slow I could get off and walk The Lafranconis are a bit compromising - there's not enough back pressure below 4000rpm to keep the engine happy, although it still has a bit of power between 3000 and 4000, it’s largely peevish about having to rotate so slowly. Giving it too much of a handful in this rev range achieves little, and only results in a temporary quick tinkle of pinking if the air is very warm.
4000rpm is a magic number. Much more usable power is encountered here, where the motor smooths out dramatically, and pulls strongly up to 5000rpm. At this point there is a rough spot - rocking couple - vibration but beyond it smooths out again with another power step at around 5500rpm, which goes up to peak torque at 6600rpm. After this, peak power is supposed to occur at 7300rpm, but really the peak torque point is the most meaningful.
Beyond that it literally runs out of puff - you can move gas through two 422cc cylinders only so quickly — which is an advantage as it makes it difficult to over rev. I would expect that it’s impossible to drop a valve even if you missed a gear.
Although the gear ratios are quite evenly spaced - making it easy to keep within the power band for any given road speed - as is usual with Guzzis, fifth gear is like an overdrive and so it is quite likely to go no faster in top than it will in fourth. Using fourth is more fun as it enables access to the post 5000rpm part of the rev range (quite apart from the noise — sorry, my ears are still ringing... what?). The claimed top speed of 130mph coincides approximately with the peak torque point in top, where l am required to get well down behind the fairing if this is to be achieved at all easily. In general, then, the bike is equivalent to a Jap middleweight in. performance. Not terribly inspiring perhaps, but it couldn’t be more different.
I can’t tell you exactly what I've had out of it for the simple reason that the instruments are hopelessly inaccurate, especially at the top of the scale (you know it's going faster but the needle hardly moves). As far as acceleration goes, the motor could probably go much better in this regard without one particular encumbrance. This is the mammoth flywheel, a whopping great lump of steel which also contains the twin plate dry clutch - even with the throttle shut off that flywheel is still tending to hurtle the bike forwards, disconcerting for the first time rider who expects the brakes to stop the Guzzi in a linear manner.
The secret is to keep the flywheel spinning at a fair lick, and tap into this energy with a gear ratio selected for a particular purpose. Braking is nearly always accompanied by a change down, for reasons mentioned above, as a reward for a deal of concentration and coordination. The throttle is used to chase the revs up the scale; you can’t whack it open as this gets you nowhere fast. Also, clutchless changes are totally out of the question. If you ever buy a Guzzi, remember everything you have learnt about Jap bikes - and then forget it all.
This particular machine is essentially in a standard state of tune, and so it is somewhat surprising to learn that in its previous life most of its active moments - outside of the garage in which it had been constantly done up and fettled - were spent on a race track. Major mods were the junking of the less than ideal camchain in favour of steel gears, oversize carb jets and an enlarged sump. In addition the engine was painted matt black.
The gearbox was a pleasant surprise, usually quiet and smooth, even slick at times, it wouldn’t even disgrace a Japanese bike. On the rare occasions when I miss a change, it’s because I’ve come to expect rapid changes. Now and again, it does have a little hiccup, just to remind me of its true origins ~ if it’s being particularly lethargic it usually means that it wants an oil change. The fuel consumption is, er, well, adequate. It’s supposed to manage 45mpg, but the trouble here is that I can't leave the throttle alone, it’s just too much fun. Fifty in first, seventy in second, change into top at over the ton, that sort of thing. I usually get the high 30s or 40mpg. Mind you, it's inefficient at slow speeds - my worst ever was 32mpg while touring Cornwall (second gear all the time).
The suspension had been well sorted. The amazing thing is it’s all the original stuff too. As with many other things, it looked like everything had been taken apart including the rear shocks - and put back together again just so. A common aftermarket rear shock is maybe Marzocchi or Koni but here, large as life and twice as ugly, are the originals. It’s all a bit on the firm side but I can’t fault it.
In fact, the suspension shows up another area. Given a reasonably fast bit of swervery and with the motor nicely on the boil, both it and the suspension are a bit too quick for the long wheelbase and slow steering. It gets to a stage where one has to manhandle it over to get around some of the corner before the road runs out. Can’t have it both ways, I suppose, and as the geometry makes it absolutely rock steady at any speed in a straight line, I think I prefer it that way round to wobble and weave.
In fact, the rear springs are so good the swing arm has to be really whip-lashed by the old shaft drive before any serious lurching takes place, normally a common Guzzi problem. Sure it goes a bit vague if throttled off in a bend, but not with the same terminal feeling I’m normally used to. And although the steering might be a touch on the slow side, it is inspiringly stable and secure. There is a fixed hydraulic damper, which can be slightly recalcitrant in the cold weather when the fluid is stiff, but this is not a problem Normally on this model, the steering damper can be switched in or out of position with a large knob in the centre of the steering head In spite of weighing in at some 430lbs, the Le Mans is manageably low and lean, having lower suspension than other Guzzi models.
Getting all of both feet on the floor should be no problem even if you’re less than six foot. The sculpted aftermarket seat with raised pillion section helps here, as well as looking much better than the normal squared back thing. The seat is a bit hard but doesn't compress. Generally, the riding position is just right, and I haven’t had an problems with wrist ache while leaning on the clipons — in fact, it doesn’t feel like you’re leaning at all after a while, rather they're in just the right, logical place. In comparison, my Spada's bars were dreadful. Only slight problem here may be an aching right mitt due to preventing the heavy carb springs slamming the slides shut. Tip: get all four fingers curled around the twist grip as it prevents thumb ache.
Whether such a bike should qualify for having clip-ons bars et al, since it doesn't cut it in the sports class, any more, is a point I’ve read mentioned in one or two recent write-ups, but I don’t see why not - even at 70mph the wind would be a real drag without them.
Practical things I like about it are, for instance, the seat pan, sidepanels and both mudguards are plastic, so no rusting problems. The shaft drive is an absolute must, surely, in this day and age. I think about all you poor devils out there fiddling about with filthy back chains and sprockets - yech.
Not least in its favour, is the agricultural simplicity of the whole thing. No mind bending techno wizardry, with built in obsolescence to give you sleepless nights about how much it will cost if this or that black box goes wrong. And no bits of it are difficult to understand or very expensive to maintain.
With its low centre of gravity, excellent balance and poise, together with user friendly braking - I question the logic behind the idea of being able to squeal the front tyre with just two fingers on the lever - it is what I'd call a virtually idiot proof bike; the linked braking system is a positive boon on slippery roads.
Home maintenance is a doddle. Two complete lube change a year, engine more often if necessary (it can go to 2000 or more miles). Oil consumption is practically zero, apart from some leakage from the crankcase breather - this drops off once you’ve allowed it to find its own level. Once adjusted using vacuum gauges and Colourtune, carbs remain set for months. The only reason why the carbs go out of sync is because the throttle cable moves about, upsetting the relative slide heights. Get that sorted and life is smoother for longer. Fiat contact breakers fit straight in and last for years with the occasional clean up in situ.
Rear tyres last around 5000 miles, maybe longer, and I usually change the front at the same time - Pirelli Phantoms only, I must stress. Pads last longer if they and the calipers are cleaned out regularly if the cast iron discs have gone rusty. Otherwise, they partially seize and the linings end up uselessly wedge shaped. Use a bottle brush to dust out the calipers, and use a file to clean the edge of the pads to ensure they slide freely in the calipers. Be warned, Ferodos may not fit properly and rip up the discs - use Brembos or the cheaper lpercos. Wet weather braking is okay so long as you keep the discs dry.
Generally, regular exercise keeps the brakes at their most efficient, but this can reqiuire more than just a trip to work and back every day. Bleed brakes with new fluid at east once a year - you’ll be surprised by the amount of crud that collects in the calipers.
That’s about it apart from valve clearance and ignition timing. The former are very accessible but re-timing the ignition unit is best done with the special tool to reach the awkward clamp bolts, which can be done without completely removing the fuel tank. The bike had a birthday recently, so I also changed the fork oil as I couldn’t think of anything else to do to it.
Problems? Final drive universal joint exploded because it was more than 25000 miles old. So, at 25000 miles new Cardan joint, OK? Can be done at home, if a bit fiddly, Most time consuming part is removing and replacing joint and support bearing in the swing arm. The original speedo refused to register more than 60kph.
All the calipers had at least one seized piston because they were not assembled with high temperature grease. Front wheel bearings wore out - changed in just half an hour. Exhaust downpipes are a heap of rust. Regulator needs a bit of waking up first start of the day, but I think know why (internal riveted connections are oxidized).
Mods - swap carb bellmouths for K & N filters, this is a must if you value the life of your engine. Also makes throttle response a bit more civilised (smoother take-up, less stop/go, stop/go). It’s not absolutely necessary to maintain ignition timing at the prescribed 8 degrees before TDC at static. Retarding back, even to zero TDC, makes it a whole lot smoother, more tolerant in hot weather and improves pulling ability at low revs, has no detrimental effect on performance as far as I can tell, if anything it revs easier.
Other additions included a rear carrier, pannier frames and a digital clock. Most recent mod was fitting of T4 spec silencers, which is a very strange thing to do with a Le Mans, but I’ve started touring again and after listening to the exhaust note for six or seven hours a day, day after day, the novelty of the great exhaust noise sort of wears off. But the worst problem is the lack of power below 4000rpm with the competition silencers on.
The result, although quieter, can still be made to snort and rumble something like a good old British twin might. More importantly, the power band has spread out a bit into other useful areas, achieving the desired effect of greater flexibility. Most noticeable is the absence of pinking when urged on at around 3500rpm (which normally fluffs it). It still revs quite happily and goes just as fast as it ever did. As I say, since acceleration requires co-operation of a heavy flywheel, any advantage that might be gained from shifting combustible compounds faster with the aid of a less restrictive exhaust system is largely wasted. Another hopeful side effect might be improved fuel consumption, which I am still in the process of examining.
Make no mistake about it, though, I have in my possession what they call a good ’un. But at least it proves what can be done with an early Le Mans model to produce a machine to which you can become quite attached. The Mk2 version is supposed to have better transmission than previously and includes a Spada type fairing - 'course, you can buy these bits separately and put ’em on whichever version you’ve got, thanks to the universal parts interchangeability feature of all the big twins.
And given its butch nature it doesn’t have such a rough feel as you might expect. Blessed with a 90 degree cylinder orientation offering perfect primary balance, even a Le Mans can be very smooth. I’ve surprised one or two pillion passengers who couldn't swear to feeling a thing (mind you, I wasn’t trying to ma seven grand).
I paid around £1800 for mine, for an eleven year old bike. It’s been worth every penny. Always starts first press of the button, cold or hot,. and is utterly reliable. They are built to last even if the engine is a bit of a lump. I used to have a flash BMW car that spent more time sitting at home doing nothing except letting its battery go flat.
The Guzzi is not just for leisure on sunny weekends, it is essential transport for all purposes. My new problem is to remember that people will no longer hear me coming from miles away.
