1975 Moto Guzzi 850T
The concept of a “special touring mount” is one quite new to motorcycling – a result of the specialisation of the breed. Sure, you can still buy an all-rounder – a bike that performs the same role a BSA 350 single might have handled a decade ago.
A Harley-Davidson 350 might be that equivalent today, or, from the Japanese view, so might a Honda 350 Four.
But bikes aimed at a specific segment of the market have proliferated. Today’s sportster is clearly a single-purpose machine – witness the low, mean profile of the Guzzi V7 Sport in our test last November.
Now Guzzi has come up with its new touring motorcycle – specialisation produced in craftmanship detail. A V-twin tourer offering an unbreakable 850 powerplant, but cradled in a low, sports frame.
The new Moto Guzzi 850T caused quite a stir in some quarters when it turned up unheralded and unannounced at Melbourne’s Exhibition Building early in September.
It was flown from Italy just in time for the Second International Motorcycle Show, and just in time to send ripples scudding over the calm surface of the otherwise almost stagnant motorcycle scene.
Guzzi’s new sports tourer was one of the stars of the show for the public, but it failed to make much of a splash with the motorcycle Press. However, the people who flocked to the Exhibition in their thousands were certainly impressed by the apparent newcomer, the upshot of their interest being the quick sale of the new model within hours of the display’s opening.
In fact, the bike – naturally the only one in the country at the time – was sold three times over, with some subsequent embarrassment.
The trade Press men thought they had seen it all before, of course, for the “new” model wasn’t really new at all, but was very much a variation on a theme, or more precisely two themes; a homology of the now-superseded 850GT and the current V7 Sports model.
The latest offering from one of Italy’s major factories uses the engine, gearbox and shaft final drive of the somewhat obese 850GT, mounting the entire plot in the sleek, racy Sport frame. The resultant hybrid more nearly approaches the norm than most models which have sprung from this long-established factory.
As the model designation indicates, the engine is of 850 cm3 capacity. It is an overhead valve twin, the huge alloy cylinders disposed in 90 deg V-twin formation, mounted transversely in the frame. The cylinder barrels are heavily chrome-plated on the surface of the bores, a practice which allows excellent heat dissipation and minimal wear – important considerations in a large-capacity, slow-revving engine of this type.
An alternator is employed to supply current to the huge, truck-like battery lurking under the seat. The alternator is mounted on the front of the crankcase casting between the two cylinders, where it sits nicely out of harm’s way behind the front wheel.
The crankshaft is a short and extremely rigid one-piece component with massive main and big-end bearing areas. The two connecting rods are mounted side-by-side on the huge big-end pin and employ plain bearings with the usual detachable con-rod end cap. This fitting naturally allows for speedy replacement on the rare occasions when wear or failure necessitates bearing replacement.
Drive to the gearbox is taken direct from the rear of the crank through a heavy flywheel assembly incorporating an unusual two-plate clutch. The engine is clearly of automotive origin, but varies in the adoption of the dual clutch plates – which, of course, results in a friction area a great deal larger than it really needs to be. The clutch naturally revolves at engine speed, so we assume the system is adopted in the interest of relatively noiseless and drama-free gear changing.
A fashionable five-speed gearbox is fitted and includes suitably wide ratios, selected to allow maximum use of the high specific torque developed by the engine at sensibly low engine speeds. The driveshaft assembly emerges from the right side of the gearbox rear casting, and is enclosed within the swing-arm itself.
Cleverly, the universal joint pivots just inboard of the outrigger swinging arm pivot, allowing the wheel travel and the knuckle joint of the universal to pivot co-axially, imposing as little strain as possible on the component. (When are the manufacturers of chain driven machines going to adopt this almost essential design feature?) The universal joint incidentally, is large enough to perform yeoman service hauling a big V8 family bait-bucket around.
The power is delivered to the rear wheel through a crown wheel and pinion assembly contained within the rear hub, fully sealed and lubricated. Rear wheel removal is accomplished by merely removing the axle nut and tapping the spindle out. The quickly detachable wheel slides off a spline and can then be simply withdrawn.
Oddly, the external surface of the crankcase and gearbox castings are heavily ribbed for strength – which makes for a great degree of energy absorption in the event of a shunt, and also imbues the assembly with a great deal of torsional rigidity. The latter makes for a nigh-inflexible engine/frame assembly and plays a major role in the search for optimum handling and smooth running. It is the only motorcycle engine thus equipped, although several engines are similarly ribbed internally.
Far from looking unsightly, the “agricultural” appearance of the alloy cases lends a certain rugged air to this neat power unit. To the enlightened few, the appearance of the engine provides a clue to the origin of the species, for the engine was not intended as a power source for a two-wheel vehicle.
The unit was first designed as a compact power-egg to drive a tiny scoutcar which was ultimately adopted by the NATO forces as a fully armed fighting vehicle. Of course, the engine also saw duty in a number of theatres of war in various guises, including stationary applications.
If the exterior of the engine betrays its automotive origins, the interior tells a different kind of story. Lift the lid off the rocker cover and you are confronted with four huge through-bolts securing the head and barrel to the crankcase. These bolts are as thick as a thumb, and look as though they could never be overstressed, no matter how ham-fisted the owner.
The bolts also secure inlet and exhaust rocker assemblies, which themselves pivot on spindles which are a great deal thicker than one would think necessary. Aluminium alloy pistons are also suitably thick and employ three cast iron rings a unit, the normal compression ring on top, a special oil scraper in the second groove and the traditional oil control ring in the lower groove. Almost disappointingly, they look very ordinary!
Short, solid steel connecting rods tie the pistons to the crankshaft, a component which looks as though it could happily handle three times the power this engine is ever likely to produce. The shaft is a very short, chunky one-piece forging precision ground on bearing surfaces and balanced to assist smooth running. The rear’ main bearing, from which area the power is transmitted, is almost 76 mm (3 in.) in diameter – larger than the bearing area of many components designed to absorb much higher shock loadings.
And the reason the engine components in this particular machine are as substantial as they are? Remember, this was originally a combat engine, asked to perform perfectly under extreme duress in conditions often less than ideal. It was built to function acceptably well in areas from sub-tropical to freezing, to fire up and escape swiftly under fire, to perform sterling service with minimal servicing or none at all, and perform its task in the hands of sometimes less than skilled mechanics, providing enough poke to allow a vehicle to limp away from a combat zone festooned with troops.
We don’t know whether the original vehicle was capable of all – or any – of these horrific pursuits, but it’s clear the engine should run forever in a motorcycle even with a minimum of routine servicing.
If the engine is rugged enough to do the job entrusted to it, then the frame must be similarly robust.
Guzzi have triumphed here again, for the sleek-low-sprung frame is remarkably substantial, if a little on the heavy side. It’s the Sport frame around which our previous test Guzzi (Two Wheels, November) was built.
Sadly, the new Moto-Guzzi has had to bend the knee to the dictates of fashion in one unnecessary area, for the model sees the adoption of a disc front brake in favour of the very sexy and incredibly efficient 254 mm (10 in.) four-leading shoe front brake fitted to the older model.
It can be rightly argued that the lighter disc assembly assists by cutting down on unsprung weight, but it could hardly be more efficient and certainly does not look as capable an item. However, the adoption of this new unit plays its part along with the new frame in paring more than 45 kg (100 lb) off the weight of the 850GT.
The exposed-tube Ceriani type front fork has likewise been adopted as fashion decrees, along with fashionably skinny mudguards. Rear suspension units are mounted at the extreme angle popular on most competitive motocross racing machines, but this is one fad which is eminently practical, for it allows a greater range of rear wheel movement relative to shock absorber movement. This configuration has the twin virtues of extreme comfort and excellent handling, and also assists in providing more efficient rear wheel braking and, we suspect, better tyre wear.
Rear wheel braking is a mite over-efficient on the new model, for the manufacturers have seen fit to adopt the twin-leading shoe rear brake assembly which has proved to be too good when fitted to the Sport version. Happily, there is a very effective range of adjustment on the brake pedal, and it should remove most of the danger of a rear wheel lock-up under heavy panic braking.
And we’re pleased to remark that an Italian manufacturer has at last come up with a decent set of domestically-made switches. The new units fitted to the test model are deserving of high praise. They are not only the finest switchgear ever adopted by a Latin factory, but they bid fair to being the finest ever adopted by any manufacturer!
The switches are mounted within easy reach of the thumbs (whether gloved or not) and are very futuristic in their design. They have a solid, reassuring no-nonsense feel about them and do their job in a pleasingly efficient manner – a far cry from some of the wan, uncertain switches of the past.
On the left handlebar are mounted the horn button, overtake-flasher, blinker and main/dipper switch, while the right bar incorporates the electric starter and cut-out switches. Thus the left hand, which normally handles only the clutch lever, is allowed to use most of the essential warning devices while the machine is on the move, allowing the right hand to concentrate its attention on the essential go-and-stop controls.
One grim concession to fashion’s dictates is the absurd practice of enclosing the multitude of wires from these switches with the handlebars themselves, aping the arch-offending Honda.
The only argument for that design quirk lies in the questionable virtue of hiding the inoffensive wiring looms from the gaze of the passer-by. The arguments against the practice include the following:
- The holes through which the wires disappear, and the even bigger holes through which they reappear at the point of maximum stress weaken the major component by which a rider exercises control over his machine.
- The wires, because they disappear as indicated, cannot be visually inspected, and are therefore able to cause trouble without warning. They are liable to chafe on the sides of the holes mentioned, or on one of the rough surfaces inside the bars.
- They will certainly shear off if the machine is dropped, or even falls off its centre or sidestand. They may well cause a serious electrical short or fire if they do.
- They make no allowances for the owner to exercise his right to replace the standard handlebars for a pair which may suit his build or inclination.
- They make the replacement of the switchgear an expensive proposition if it becomes necessary, for the switches and wiring looms are bought as one component.
- They make the fitting of new switches a difficult and time consuming job, for the handlebars have to be removed and the new wires threaded through them.
- They require the switchgear to be anchored positively to their position on the handlebars, leading to the possibility of the offending articles swivelling on their mounts and again leading to one, or all,·of the grim situations outlined above.
As you can see, we claim Moto-Guzzi has pulled a giant Boo-Hoo (that’s three steps worse than a Boo-Boo) simply by plumping for a design trend which should never have been allowed to occur in the first place.
But Guzzi’s new model Tourer is one of the most impressive motorcycles we have ridden for a very long time. Like the Sport, the ignition key is contained in the switch mounted just in front of the nose of the petrol lank, requiring no more than a quick flick to turn the ignition on. One added bonus with this excellent switch concerns the steering lock which automatically locks only when the key is removed and the bars turned lo full lock in either direction. This neatly obviates the embarrassment experienced when one leaps astride a machine with the steering locked, fires up, and executes a series of ever-diminishing circles.
The engine fires immediately – after giving the fleeting impression that. it. won’t – and settles down to a low, funny idle speed at just under 1000 rpm. But with this is a tendency to leap about in a disconcerting manner.
The clutch and brake levers are very thick castings and are quite a handspan to reach. Despite the twin clutch plate assembly, controlled by eight peripheral springs, the pull on the lever itself is very light – unusually so for a Continental machine, and very good in its take-up.
Engine-speed clutches have a tendency to be very sudden in engagement, but happily the Guzzi did not exhibit this trait. It’s pleasing to note for it can sometimes be a nuisance in heavy traffic. The selection of first gear is of the “hot-knife-into-soft-butter” category, but is accompanied by a snick and a reaction from the machine.
Provided the drill is learned early, upward gearchanges can be made with no signs of distress from the engine or gearbox – especially if the change from first to second is made quite early. There is no need to stay loo long in the lowest gear anyway, for the machine pulls like a train from nothing and obviously prefers to be ridden this way. The machine is heavy, and makes no excuses for being so, but moves off the mark very impressively indeed. Upward gear changes are made at no more than 3500 rpm in the lower three ratios, although 4000 rpm can be used as a change point if you must.
But performance is quite startling up high when letting the surprisingly eager engine buzz to around 5500 rpm or so in the upper ratios. A change to fourth gear with 5000 rpm on the clock sees the machine lurch forward with the same brisk acceleration experienced in the lower gears.
The reason soon becomes apparent, of course, for the secret is tied up in the machine’s very heavy flywheel mass. Enough energy is “stored” in this component to imbue the machine with a sudden surge of torque not evident at lower engine speeds. In fact, when changing up at these engine speeds and then snapping the throttle shut immediately, the theory is instantly borne out. by the machine’s behaviour. It is not to be recommended when riding hard through a corner in the rain unless one is aware of the phenomenon for it can be tricky, though by no means dangerous.
The machine’s bulk is carried relatively low in the frame and this allows for extremely precise handling of a type unknown to all but a handful of contemporary motorcycles. The bike can be hurled into corners with an almost contemptuous verve, the power applied just on the entry to allow an exit under full stick.
Ridden in this manner, the Italian superbike exhibits all the earmarks of the top roadburners: the ability to stick to the chosen line unswervingly, regardless of terrain, a sure-footedness that inspires confidence ( or, sadly, overconfidence in the unwary) and a feeling of solid, no-nonsense craftsmanship. Craftsmanship evident in the way the bike does the things one expects it to do, not necessarily a tangible thing, or a thing to which one can point with any authority.
If the Guzzi’s handling is faultless, it does exhibit the odd quirk or two. For instance, if one approaches a slowish corner and changes down while braking hard, the machine can momentarily lock the rear wheel as the lower three gears are selected. This is a slightly unsettling tendency, but again is easy to compensate for by merely easing the savage rear brake slightly when the clutch is released.
And the rear brake is very definitely too good for peace of mind at first acquaintance.
However, the Italian factory has one of the greatest advances in motorcycle design for a great many years. By some quirk in design in rear suspension, rear braking and/or brake torque linkage the bike definitely squats down at the rear when that brake is applied, rendering the rear brake a great deal more effective than it would otherwise be.
Under heavy braking the mass of machine and rider weight is thrown on to the front of the motorcycle, allowing maximum braking effect to take place on that wheel. Naturally, the tail-end of the machine is by now much lighter and only minimal braking can be relied upon.
If Guzzi is able to emulate the top Grand Prix racing cars in putting the rear braking energy to good use in depressing the rear end of the machine to provide more efficient braking, it has created a device of incalculable worth to the industry.
The seating position was as near ideal as makes little difference and the saddle was soft in the extreme, in fact it felt like some great black marshmallow, providing at once great comfort and a secure feeling as it wraps around and encloses. One sits more in the saddle than on it.
It was not really possible to extend the machine to its maximum performance for it only had 2000 km on the clock, but it would run happily to just over 6000 rpm in top gear with ease and would certainly wind out more.
It cracks along the open road with no hassle whatever, emitting nothing more than a discreet burble from its huge mufflers. The engine is fairly noisy, however, and understandably so, for the tappets are enclosed within covers which peep at you from under the tank, where they chatter and groan as you tear about. The carburettors gulp unfiltered air, and the intake is similarly noisy, fizzing and moaning from an area somewhere between your ankles.
The engine sounds as though it is digesting something sharp, but previous examples of the marque were similarly inclined and little trouble was experienced with them. Perhaps one begins to worry if the motor suddenly becomes quiet?
The overall finish of the machine is excellent, so much so that someone remarked – not unkindly – it had the look of a Japanese machine about it, and many comments were passed about the very high finish of the chrome work which adorns this new model.
But the model is no show pony, for it exudes an air of solidarity which is almost unique, a certain rustic charm which certainly sets it apart from the common herd. And it is extremely comfortable, no doubt because the rear wheel absorbs shocks at least as efficently as the front wheel, if not more so!
As indicated, the performance of the big iron is very impressive indeed. Long distances can be covered at high speeds for hours on end, and with no deleterious effects upon machine or rider. It is doubtful if many motorcycles would see the thing off in a sustained point-to-point burst for its handling is also of the highest possible order, if a little harder to get used to than many machines with more “normal” design features.
Shipping problems may not yet allow the machine to be seen in large quantities in this country immediately, but when it does finally assert itself a great many manufacturers of high-performance motorcycles (including the similarly-disposed BMW) are sure to feel the impact of its presence.
By Lester Morris. Two Wheels, January 1975
