The SR500 destroyed itself in the usual well documented ways, swinging arm bearings, rear shocks, but more disastrously, the valve gear, piston and camchain (to anyone who is rebuilding one of these fun bikes don't forget to modify the oil feed to the head, otherwise you're wasting money and time). Against my advice, the person I was living with a few years ago bought a SR and was unlucky enough to have the alternator/CDI unit pack up. I seem to recall that this cost £150; punters should avoid used stuff as most of them will be gone. The new unit should be treated with great care and once installed make sure you drill and vent the casing as a build up of moisture is one of the reasons given for premature failure. Personally, I would stay well away from them, but some people just like the looks so much that they won't take any notice of this...
As the poor old thing was drinking nearly as much oil as petrol it had to go whilst it was worth something. I sold it to a guy for more than I paid for it. In fact, it's the only time that I've ever felt guilty selling a bike - he had both legs in plaster and couldn't take it for a spin. I think I had at least one sleepless night.
With £350 burning a hole in my pocket and the knowledge that my income would be quite reasonable for the near future, I headed for the nearest dealer, slapping down a deposit on a very flash, two year old, three thousand miler Le Mans Mk. 1, at the not inconsequential price tag of £1650. Arranging credit was strangely easy considering that I neither owned a house nor had permanent employment. But I didn't worry about that, the bike looked so damn sexy with its chrome pipes and highly polished bodywork; I just wanted to ride and ride.
Yes, I decided to purchase without having a test ride. I was allowed a ride as rear gunner. The workshop foreman rode out of town a few miles, but he looked petrified so the bike was never really screwed open. He gave me the impression that Puch Maxi's were really his thing. Anyway, it was first name terms as I was signing the forms, pats on the back, little did I suspect how nasty things would turn out.
Back home, a set of Krausers were bolted on as the Guzzi was about to emerge as a rather over the top despatch mount (I might add that I did a lot of long distance stuff and very little W1). Visions of turning up at work on my new bolide were shot to hell, next morning, when I found the battery was good and gone. A phone call to the dealer to point out this sad state of affairs was met with the usual excuses (Oh, can't understand it... never happened before - we only charged it up the other day). They agreed to replace the battery but I had to go fetch it, which meant finding some jump leads and wasting much time and money.
The dealers were far from pleased because the new battery cost them fifty notes. Everything was fine for a week or two, I was having great fun blowing my mind and scaring myself silly, generally coming to terms with it all when the clutch gave up. A rather strained conversation ensued with the dealer in which he mumbled that it wasn't in the guarantee (I only had a vague verbal guarantee - that's what happens when enthusiasm takes over from common sense). The argument resulted in him agreeing to pay for the parts if I did the work. In fact, it turned out that I had to buy the bits and he would then refund the money at a later date. With a new clutch installed I was back on the road. There followed about a month in which it didn't take long to realise that the Le Mans was not quite the wonder bike I'd assumed from the road tests.
The riding position was terrible, truly the worst ever. It desperately needed rear-sets but by this time I wasn't in possession of the necessary £75 to correct that. And the seat... well, it was like sitting on a brick wall, no-one ever enjoyed sitting on the back of that bike, nothing to hold onto and nothing to sit on does not confidence inspire. Again, after market items were available of course, but the price... over and above these expensive and uncomfortable faults, the engine remained peerless - I could not fault it, it was stunning, super fast and super strong, it was everything I'd hoped for and more.
The best ride in my life was a blast up to the Isle of Mull from Colchester stopping only for petrol. I felt a new person afterwards and the bike loved taking some stick, settling down the faster we went. I swear I could have leapt on the bike and driven straight back it was so good. I didn't notice how sore my bum was until I got off the bike.
The clocks on the bike were becoming very inaccurate and I was being stopped for speeding far too often (that was my excuse, anyway). I became so pissed off with collecting fines and endorsements that I ventured another phone call to the dealer (I'd owned the bike for a month at this point) to tell him that a speedo that went backwards once it reached seventy wasn't much cop. All I received for my trouble was lots of moaning about the expense of replacing the clutch and battery and if they spent any more they would start losing money on the deal and I should think myself lucky that they had been so understanding in the past.
Thoughts of legal action were forgotten when one night bombing down the road I found the totally inadequate front light attempting to illuminate a wooden potato pallet that had positioned itself perfectly to throw the bike down the road. Much to my surprise, I survived the resulting dose of tarmac rash with the mere loss of a boot. The bike wasn't so lucky and proceeded to destroy itself. At least I wouldn't have to talk to the dealers any more, I thought in some kind of commiseration.
Picking up used front wheels was almost impossible, but I eventually found one for a mere £120, while a back wheel cost just £90. Anyway, I threw it all together only to find myself plagued with rectifier problems for the next year. I notice someone is offering a cheap rectifier service, at £50 for a new one he should have lots of business, I bought two in under a year - obviously something was wrong, but I never did suss it.
People have moaned about Brembo pad wear and I did have to replace a few sets in the 15-20000 miles I covered on the bike (not very accurate but blame the clock), but I wasn't aware that they wore out that quickly. Tyre wear was also reasonable, points were expensive (and pattern ones don't fit properly) and petrol consumption was acceptable considering the performance. The carbs would stay in tune for a whole day before reverting to their natural state of imbalance.
Overall, I didn't find the Le Mans an expensive bike to run, just expensive to crash. Which brings me to the next incident. Driving over the Dales on my way back from Scotland, Scotty found it fit to beam a stupid sheep down right under the front wheel.
Here we go again, I had time to think, as bike and rider slid down the road. I managed to kill the beast, but not before it broke my thumb. The cap was smashed and the plug broken. Fortunately, I wasn't alone, so the bike was put behind a hedge and, with my thumb hanging at a strange angle, I sat on the back of a Darmah for a very painful three hundred mile ride home.
Six months later a Cortina pulled out in front on a straight road with good visibility. The blind driver not only finished off the Le Mans but took me so close to death that I immediately sold off the wreck for £250 and bought a Vauxhall Victor estate. At last, I felt safe.
Anyone interested in owning one of these machines should budget for proper suspension at both ends - a Ducati front end being the best option, if not a little expensive. Electronic ignition helps performance and eventually pays for itself in eliminating the need for points changes. Air filters increase engine life. A fork brace is essential. for serious riding, as are a better seat and rear-sets (although they do not aid passenger comfort). Joining the Guzzi owners club is worth it for their excellent mag which has hot tips for improving the Le Mans. Of course, all these improvements do add rather a lot to the cost of the bike, but many bikes on sale owned by real enthusiasts will already be modified.
The Le Mans was a star when first introduced, but now can be burnt off my many smaller bikes, but still has simplicity, brutality and good value.
Robert Garnham