Guzzi’s V7 Sport is close to the perfect motorcycle.

And that’s allowing that the bike’s general specifications will give it appeal only to a smallish number of riders, and that some points are crying out for improvement.

They may be minor, but the excellence of the rest of the bike makes them stand out even more.

Yet the Sport is a worthy bearer of a famous name. For more than 50 years, the eagle symbol has graced many a remarkable motorcycle, and the lineage shows.

We hope it doesn’t fade away. Now part of the De Tomaso empire, Moto Guzzi has already come in for some badge engineering in the shape of the Honda replica 350 four, and the 250 two-stroke twin shared with Benelli.

Such moves may be economic necessities, but they generally foreshadow the destruction of a priceless heritage. Moto Guzzi’s was built on machines like the V8 racer. Recently we read an article on the V8, headed with the single word “Zenith”, an accurate capture of the spirit of this remarkable bike.

It’s fitting, if coincidental, that Guzzi’s big guns are still Vees, though not the fearsome eight cylinder Grand Prix devices with fore/aft cranks and shaft final drive.

The modern Guzzis have more in common with BMW, but they’re Vees nonetheless.

And with the Sport, the company has made a dramatic step away from the touring concept embodied by the earlier V7 Special and the 850 Eldorado.

Make no mistake, it’s still Gran Turismo in the truest sense of the expression, but it’s lost the Olde Worlde tubbiness of those models to become a lean and exciting projectile fully in line with the Sport classification.

Visually, the V7 is one of the world’s most integrated bikes. Low and slim, it looks far longer than it actually is, while the flat frame rails and long straight mufflers reinforce the impression.

The frame is responsible for the bike’s lack of height. A classic example of the Italians’ love of triangulated symmetry, it has top rails branching from the double downtubes well below the steering head and running level to the rear of the seat. The bulky motor is fully cradled by the bottom tubes while metal sidecases fill the triangular gap in the subframe.

The top of the steering head is braced well back, while strengthening fillets are welded at most junctions. The two motor mounting bolts (one at the front of the crankcase, one at the rear of the gearbox) both pass through the bottom rails which are bolted to the rest of the frame. If the motor is removed it is simply detached complete with frame rails.

Add such niceties as top-class welds and paint job, plus tapered roller bearings for both swing arm and steering spindles, and you have a strong and good-looking example of a double cradle frame, one which could accept almost any type of motor with ease.

Focal point of the good looks is the 19-litre fuel tank, a series of flowing metal curves which is striking no matter what the viewpoint. Sloping to a wide base in the forward portion, it also features the deep knee indentations all bikes should have!

Faced with such competition, other parts of the bike could be excused for not having great visual impact, but such is not the case. Everything shows the benefits of a bold design approach coupled with superb craftsmanship and meticulous attention to detail.

The motor features alloy casting of a standard the Japanese (or any other manufacturer) must despair of reaching, and dominates with its size and outward-jutting barrels. The brake hubs fairly shout their country of origin. Only Italy could produce the beautiful double-sided twin leader drum in the front wheel.

Yet even adding up the effect of individual items fails to capture the total impression left by the bike. “Total” is the key word, for everything has received the same loving care in design and execution. The Sport is unique in containing almost no compromises between conflicting functions. Often, the dictates of styling force engineering approaches which are less than ideal; responsible designers make engineering paramount and produce a machine which is striking in a functional way, while others bend towards looks to the detriment of function.

Not the people from Guzzi. Guided by the twin watchwords of “quality” and “sound engineering” (themselves not always complementary), they have also been able to add styling with a flair distinctly Italian. May they never lose such talent.

On top of that, the bike is crammed full of trick features, as many or more than the jazziest machine out of the Orient. Many are not essential to enjoyable motorcycling, but all are cleverly thought out and well built. Hence, they add to the rider’s convenience, or comfort, or safety, if only in small measure.

The idea of a total concept is taken seriously at Guzzi. So you have such things as an automatic steering lock which clicks on when the ignition key is withdrawn, plus another position of the key where it can be taken out without the lock engaging; electric starting using either the key (the switch is neatly placed at the front of the tank) or a handlebar button; an automatic-solenoid fuel tap which opens only when the ignition is switched on; bars adjustable for height and sweep back; a rear mudguard which swivels up for easy wheel removal (also to allow the rear-hinged seat to be lifted); an automatic courtesy light for the neat, accessible fuse-box; dual horns; hydraulic steering damper which is engaged by the turn of a knob; full cross-over facility for both foot brake and gearchange; sealed damper units in the front suspension; chrome cylinder bores; lockable sidecases; positive ventilation of both crankcase and overhead valve areas.

Now isn’t that the sort of list every advertising copywriter dreams of being able to rave about? The people who handle Guzzi haven’t risen to the bait, confining themselves most of the time to the seemingly arrogant statement that here is a truly top-drawer motorcycle. Like, when you’re really class, it’s a bit undignified to go waving banners.

At the heart of it all the bike is much the same as any shaft-drive motorcycle, simply because there aren’t many variations on the basic way of going about the job. The unkind can say that all such bikes lack to turn them into a car is a couple of extra wheels. Perhaps more ignorant than unkind, but they’re right in one respect: looking at the engine/transmission/ drivetrain package it could easily have been lifted from a car.

The crankcase casting has a flat-finned sump-plate under, a gearbox bolted on behind, and a driveshaft poking out behind· that again. The crank is no pressed ­together collection of little shafts and discs but a monstrous one-piece forging, running in two plain bearings.

Bolted-up big ends also carry plain bearings for the conrods which run side by side on the same journal. Although there is a slight offset between the cylinders, the right being farther forward, it is barely noticeable.

Above the crank runs the chain­driven camshaft which works the valve gear through followers and pushrods. Pushrod tunnels are cast into the barrels, so there are no hassles keeping exterior tunnels oiltight. Under the beautifully-cast rocker covers the valves are opened by rockers with tappet adjusters on the pushrod ends.

The chrome cylinder bores in the alloy barrels have been used to aid cooling and prolong engine life. Equally long life could be expected from the two-plate dry clutch running on the engine flywheel. It is, basically, a car unit, although the gearbox itself follows usual motorcycle practice by being constant­mesh.

Because of the need for offset in the drive system to clear the wheel the power is taken off the clutch through a gear to the mainshaft, with another step sideways to the output shaft. Like the BMWs, the Guzzi has a totally enclosed driveshaft, the casing acting as the right side of the swinging arm. Unlike the BeeEm, it uses a constant velocity joint on the centreline of the swingarm spindle, to obviate the need for any compensation for length as the suspension moves.

In the rear hub (another example of the superb alloy casting with which the bike abounds) a pinion and helical cut bevel gear transfer motion through a right angle. The hub has its own little finned cooling and strainer sump cast integrally on the bottom, a neat and thoughtful touch.

The designers let the total concept down a little when they came to set up the Sport’s carburation and ignition. There’s nothing wrong with either system, two 30 mm Dell’Orto VHB (square­sliders) for the fuel and twin contact breaker/coils for the sparks. But the carbs are minus air filters, simply breathing through a moulded air box above the gearcase, while the ignition system is cramped rather inaccessibly between the cylinders.

Most of the problem comes from the use of a separate worm drive off the camshaft for the breaker points cam. The breaker plate and advance/retard weights are contained in a circular unit similar to that you’d find under the bonnet of the family car. On the other hand, timing has been well catered for, with removal of a rubber plug on the right side of the crankcase exposing the flywheel and timing marks.

The big alternator is sited on the front of the crank, and feeds a battery of truly heroic dimensions under the seat. After you’ve seen it, there are no more worries about the lack of a kick starter. The Bosch electric starter occasionally struggles to swing the motor into life, but not because of lack of juice.

The test bike proved to be a very reliable starter. Any hesitation was more a matter of getting all that metal moving rather than finicky habits. Cold, it liked full choke on the carbs (accomplished by flipping up a lever on each), but it could be dispensed with straight away and the motor given time to warm up. This could take a while and moving off at once would produce quite forgettable pulling power.

Once warm the motor settles to a steady 1000 rpm tickover, each pulse bringing a little sideways kick of torque reaction and a rattle from the clutch thrust bearing. Blip the throttle and the torque effect is more marked; despite the Sport classification the bike still has quite heavy flywheels which stop re­sponse being instantaneous.

The dominant sound from below is not mechanical, but takes the form of a moan from the intake area. Not so noticeable from the sidelines, it sounds hellish loud to the rider, and takes a while getting used to. Apart from that, the loudest racket comes from the tappets, which are really very quiet.

So what about the exhausts? What about them? Even with the motor touching redline they make less noise than the average bike puddling through town. Here’s one motorcycle which will have no trouble meeting sound pressure levels anywhere in the world.

The Guzzi has been carefully tailored to fit the human bod as well as possible; that much is evident as soon as a leg is swung over the saddle. For a start, the seat itself is low, about 40 mm less than the average bike. It isn’t much, but it makes all the difference. It’s also wonderfully soft, appreciated the first time you feel it, doubly appreciated at the end of a nine-hour stint on the road.

And anyone who complains about the bars has only himself to blame. Their range of adjustment caters for everything between a cafe-racer crouch and a medium high stance for around town.

In addition, the swivel adjustment of the bars can be set for the individual’s preference on what feels right for his wrists. We settled finally on a position near the top of the bars’ travel and fairly straight across. For high-speed touring it could have been slightly lower, but on the other hand it wasn’t uncomfortable during the time we spent in traffic. It also matched the mildly rearward positioning of the big, swivelling footpegs.

The deep knee indentations are great to tuck the legs around, although the longer-legged rider may find the fluting turns out too sharply at the front, dinging the knee if he should slip forward on a bump or under braking. Also, although the cylinders and carbs are far enough forward not to gnaw at the shins, summer riding on the Guzzi would be a matter of overheated legs. Ah well, it’s great in winter anyhow.

The motor looks as if it should have low-speed torque of the stump-pulling kind, so it comes as some surprise to find it needs to be buzzed for best effect. Not only does the heavy crankshaft stop response from being immediate, but the high overall gearing can lead to a feeling of sluggishness as well. Couple those with a cam that doesn’t come fully alive until 5000 rpm and you’ll not be hauling around at 50 km/h in top.

In addition, the effect of the power pulses can be plainly felt in the form of hard little shakes if the bike is under load below 4000. All of which sounds quite disgraceful, but isn’t. In traffic, it’s a matter of using first and second for any acceleration, only picking third where a steady 60 km/h can be maintained, while on the open road the same applies with third, fourth and fifth.

Geared to give nearly 30 km/h per 1000 rpm, top is magnificent for eating up the distance at an easy 4000 rpm. Changing to fourth at this point brings up 4700 rpm, just where the torque hand starts getting excited. For despite not feeling so at low speeds, the Guzzi motor is a really hot performer. Asked the question, it delivers the goods in fine style, running happily to the 7300 rpm redline in every cog except fifth.

Peak power is quoted as occurring at 7000, and on this the factory has based the 207 km/h top speed claim. No way, Watson, unless you’re heading downhill, but what matter? There are not many bikes which will haul to the flat-road 189 km/h of the Guzzi. The 13.9 second standing quarter time could be one whole heap better were it not for the immensely tall first gear which grabs everything in a vice-like grip a few metres out from the line.

Dry clutches also tend to take up rather suddenly, which doesn’t help either. No reflection on the Guzzi unit though. It is smooth, strong and requires no more than an average grasp at the lever. And the idiosyncrasies of the gearchange weren’t as bad as expected. With a clutch running direct to the crank there’s no way snap changes can be done silently, but with a small amount of care the bike will produce soundless shifts every time.

Just taking it easy and letting the lever go through in a pair of distinct clicks is the way it’s done. Travel is quite long, and the action is precise, so it’s not a hard trick to master. It also cuts down the lurch which follows a snap change and a quick rap-on at low speeds.

The bike’s gear ratios are well spaced. No matter what the situation, one cog up or down is normally all you need. On down­shifts to second or first one has to remember the motor takes some time to respond and a good burst on the throttle is called for. Otherwise, the rider’s likely to find the bike shuddering into a tight turn with the revs all mismatched and frightening sounds coming from the rear drive gears – and quite probably the rear wheel locked up as well.

The only other habit betrayed by the gearshift was a reluctance to pick neutral from first at a stop. Easing down on the lever ( the pattern is one up, four down) would normally pick second, from which neutral was easy to find. We managed some stalls in the first couple of days. The test bike had the neutral light converted to a turn-signal indicator and until we got the hang of it we were continually letting the clutch out in what felt like neutral but was actually second.

The Guzzi Sport shapes up from the word go as an easy-loping tourer. The motor isn’t as smooth as the Ducati twin or a Honda Four, but is no teeth-rattler either. Rider comfort is top-class, and the high gearing leads to relaxed high speed cruising. We weren’t sure how good its performance would be – shaft drives absorb quite a lot of the sting in comparison to chains. But it proved it could go nearly as hard as a Honda 750.

With the powerplant’s performance established, how would the suspension and handling rate?

It took a 650 km spin from Sydney to the Hunter Valley and back to fully hammer the point home. The outward leg took in the twisty, bumpy Putty Road, while on the way home the Newcastle Expressway was by-passed in favour of the equally twisty Pacific Highway. The country probably con­tains few better tests of a bike’s handling and suspension and the Sport took to it with glee unbridled and confidence supreme.

Through anything from hairpins posted at 15 km/h and taken at 30, to mild kinks taken flat-out, the bike handled with an almost perfect neutrality. Light and low, its response to direction changes is nearly instantaneous, yet a mild steadiness enables the rider to pick and hold a chosen line.

The only complaint we can level at the steering is the tendency to wander slightly on the fastest bends. The tyres could well be the key to this one; the Universal pattern Michelins fitted to both ends have very little direction sensitivity. Normally, that’s good. We are continually bitching about the use of rib front tyres on Japanese bikes which don’t need them, but something with a more pronounced tread groove might have stopped the gentle weaving experienced with the Guzzi.

On the other hand, such a move could adversely affect the handling at lower speeds, something we wouldn’t wear. We’ve ridden no other 750, and only one or two tiddlers, on which you can perform a U-turn without the bike flopping and staggering all over the place. On the Guzzi you merely motor around without a second thought.

As with the handling, so the suspension. Nothing much can be said about this factor, simply because it works so very, very well. If you think your run-of-the-mill Superbike has good suspension now you’ve fiddled with the fork oil and put on replacement rear dampers, you’re still only kidding yourself. Imagine the effect of having perfectly-matched Konis or Girlings both ends. The Guzzi does have Konis at the rear, canted forward to give generous movement and sport­ing quite soft spring rates. So comfort is there, but so is wonderful rebound damping.

And the front … its feel is like a set of top-class rear units, which is, in effect, what the forks have internally. Separate sealed dampers are fitted inside the stanchions, to give generous travel allied with quick response and superb damping. Only one grizzle: on two occasions pot-holes leapt out and forced full travel out of the forks. No sweat there, but full travel equates to the damper pivot clobbering the front guard and leaving a little dimple in the stainless steel, and that shouldn’t happen.

We’re normally loath to make sweeping statements about suspension and handling, but we have to say the Guzzi has the best in the world. Anybody with a bike he feels is better, not just in specific areas, but all-up, is welcome to tender it for test. We will ride it with great joy and if it is better, make a full retraction of the above statement. Until then, it stands.

Braking could be up to the same standard, but isn’t. The power is there all right, but both ends are on the touchy side, as big drums invariably are. On the test bike they were too touchy for the road­holding capabilities of the tyres. Different boots might improve matters, but we feel discs are the answer. The drums certainly couldn’t be faulted on power, nor did they fade measurably, but good discs would offer better feel, and that must add up to shorter stopping distances in all conditions.

At times we must seem to be carrying a brief for Japanese switchgear, but it is simply so good and logical that all bikes should be so-equipped. One of our favourites is the left-hand block from the Suzuki roadsters; it must be a favourite of Barry Ryan, of Ryans Motorcycles, in Sydney, as well, for he had one fitted to the Guzzi. Fortunately it blends in unobtrusively, and replaces the usual effort which is standard on Italian machines, from the lowliest moped to such exclusive iron as the Guzzi.

Also non-standard was the Magura throttle, replacing a rather heavy stock unit, while the bike was decked out with Craven pannier racks. With the good switches added, the bike’s controls became top-class. The little panel between the Veglia clocks contains warning lights for neutral (flashers on the test bike), oil, alternator and headlight. The instruments are neat and quick, and on the test machine spot-on for accuracy, but we were saddened at the lack of a trip meter on the speedo.

A bike wouldn’t be European without some trouble from the electrics. With the test bike it consisted of the courtesy light shorting and blowing the light circuit fuse, and a front indicator bracket breaking, but the rest of the electrics worked really well. Headlight pattern is helped by an asymmetric lens which gives a wide spread, the horns could damn near drill which gives a wide spread, the horns could damn near drill through armour plate, and the ignition switch is ideally located.

Overall, the Guzzi Sport is such an astoundingly good bike that we really went digging to uncover faults, even going to the extent of making up a bitch list, something we normally never do.

There’s such things as the decal stripes on the tank (they’ll lift off and should be painted on), the exhaust headers colouring up, the rather poorly-designed stands, the fact that the seat rubs the paintwork at the rear of the tank (normally it can’t be seen, but some provision should be made to avoid it), and the need for a prop for the seat (it swings on rubber bushes and should counterbalance the mudguard, but age will bring problems).

On the other side of the coin you have all the beaut things mentioned previously plus such niceties as fuel economy, a quality tool kit, and long mechanical life. An insight to what you could expect from the last comes from piston/barrel clearances. Not only is the standard tolerance a miniscule 0.003 mm (1.3 thou of an inch), but pistons are matched to barrels in three size ranges of .3 thou.

As much as anything else, that characterises the almost fanatical insistence on quality which is right through the bike. Production of such an exquisite piece of machinery requires an artist’s flair and dedication on top of enormous engineering talent.

Perhaps a road test shouldn’t be concerned with things like this; perhaps all it should determine is how hard a bike goes, how well it performs. Well, the Guzzi V7 Sport is as good as they come, a strong runner, possessed of exceptional handling, suspension and comfort. But that still doesn’t capture the spirit of the machine, something which is important to pin down.

The Ducati 750 Sport we tested last issue is a rumbling blast of pure excitement, all the boy racer dreams of your life in one.

With the Moto Guzzi V7 Sport it’s a total concept of craftsmanship and painstaking attention to detail coupled with gilt-edged exclusiveness.

It is, quite simply, class.

By Brian Cowan. Two Wheels, November 1974

Falloon: The Classic View

As Moto Guzzi entered the 1960s, it could claim one of the finest sporting traditions of any motorcycle manufacturer. Few could match its total of 14 World Championships, but even Moto Guzzi became a casualty in the slump in demand for motorcycles during that decade.

Saved by the new V7, and its suitability for police use, the idea for a sporting version grew out of the successful record breaking machines of 1969 that set 19 new world speed records. Following this, chief engineer Lino Tonti was briefed to build a street bike suitable both for production and production-based racing. It needed to be capable of 200 km/h, weigh less than 200kg, and have a five-speed gearbox. Thus the V7 Sport was born.

When Tonti unveiled his creation in June 1971 the press was stunned. Not only did the new Sport look purposeful, unlike any other sporting motorcycle it had shaft drive. Homologation of the V7 Sport for production racing saw the first examples built in the racing department, these being the “Telaio Rosso” (red frame) models. Now highly prized by collectors the Telaio Rosso featured many individually crafted components. Soon regular production commenced, and V7 Sport production lasted through until 1974.

To enable the V7 engine to fit a lower frame, Tonti started by reducing the height. A much smaller 180-watt Bosch alternator was mounted on the front of the crankshaft, and to conform with homologation requirements for 750cc production racing in Italy the capacity was reduced slightly, to 748cc. The V7 Sport received a new camshaft with both more valve lift and increased duration and with a claimed 70 horsepower at 7000rpm it was one of the most powerful motorcycles available in 1971.

While these engine modifications were significant, it was the design of the frame that really set the V7 Sport apart. With more space between the cylinders, Tonti created a long low frame with the backbone between the cylinders. Along with the unique fully detachable lower frame rails to facilitate engine access, the double-cradle frame comprised nearly straight tubes and would eventually feature on the entire range of large twins. The result was an extremely compact motorcycle, with a seat height of only 750mm. To accentuate this lowness, 18-inch alloy-rimmed wheels were fitted front and rear. Brakes were drums but during 1974 twin front discs were also sometimes fitted, with a rear disc option on request. The 35mm front forks with polished alloy fork legs were manufactured by Moto Guzzi and included sealed internal dampers. Although they were a highly innovative design, cartridge-type forks later becoming normal, these forks were not particularly sophisticated and effective.

The V7 Sport abounded with quality components, including Koni rear suspension units, a hydraulic steering damper, and clip-on handlebars that could be adjusted both fore and aft, and up and down. The petrol taps were solenoid operated and the rear stainless steel guard hinged to allow the rear wheel to be removed. Neat touches abounded and there was even a courtesy light that operated when the seat was opened. Although the V7 Sport represented a remarkable transformation from the V7, it still wasn’t exceptionally light despite its compact dimensions. Only through excellent design was the weight of 206 kg well disguised. However, when it came to performance the V7 Sport lived up to its expectations with a claimed top speed of 206 km/h, and the it was one of the fastest production motorcycles available in 1972. Italy’s first real sporting Superbike, the Sport could match anything available in 1971. Built as the embodiment of an engineer’s ideal, and not compromised by economics, fashion or marketing, the V7 Sport was one of the greats, not simply a great Guzzi.

Five things you didn’t know about the Moto Guzzi V7 Sport:

1: The first sketches for the V7 originated back in 1958 when the great engineer Carcano drew up plans for a 500cc V-twin engine to power a sporting Fiat car.

2: When Moto Guzzi went into receivership in 1966 the entire workforce was sacked, including Carcano. Although invited to return, Carcano was too proud to do so, leaving the V7 project unfinished until Lino Tonti became chief engineer.

3: Lino Tonti came from Bianchi, but had been associated with Benelli, Aermacchi, Mondial, and Gilera. Like Carcano, Tonti also had strong racing connections, also being involved with the Paton and Linto racing machines that bore his name.

4: Due to strikes, Tonti, with the help of two former Aermacchi colleagues Francesco Botta and Alcide Biotti, built the prototype V7 Sport frames in his own workshop.

5: To ensure the V7 Sport was competitive, Mike Hailwood tested it at Monza, afterwards proclaiming the V7 Sport was the best handling street bike he had ridden.

What’s it worth?

New $2695 (1972), Fair $15,000, Perfect $30,000

Classic bike expert and historian Ian Falloon has just updated his epic history of Moto Guzzi in a special edition to commemorate the marque’s 100th anniversary in 2021. “The Complete Book of Moto Guzzi. Every Model Since 1921. 100th Anniversary Edition” is now available, including a limited number of first edition, author signed copies direct from Ian. The price is $69.95, which includes postage within Australia only. Order your copy here.

Overseas buyers who wish to purchase a copy should should get in touch with Ian here.

If you want the most authoritative, detailed publication currently available on the sporting Guzzis, Ian has also written “The Moto Guzzi Sport and Le Mans Bible” which you can purchase here.