Moto Guzzi 1000S 1990-1993
Picture a relay race. There are several teams, some from Japan, some from Europe and one from the USA. The rules are simple. The fastest team wins. Anything’s allowed, as long as the spectators enjoy the action. Now… Go!
The Japanese and Europeans start well. The Yank sits still. Batons are handed on. The new runners have brighter streamlined clothes and bigger muscles. They are faster. The Japanese are pulling ahead.
Batons are exchanged again; the competition becomes faster. The Europeans lag. The Japanese get into steroids. One Euro team, Ducati, makes a late dash and catches the Japanese, who are still swapping the lead. Of the other westerners, BMW runs midfield and Moto Guzzi seems to have lost the way…
But wait. The crowd is turning away in disgust. Too many don’t like the drugs, colours and speed. Change the rules!
Suddenly there’s another race — a race back to the start line. The American is laughing; Japan and Ducati turn around and begin stumbling back. BMW drags an old runner out of retirement.
Guzzi strips its last competitor, dresses him in the first runner’s clothes, and streaks across the start line… something it had never really lost sight of.
Alright, so this isn’t exactly an accurate commentary of motorcycle development over the past two decades, but it’s a fair indication of where things are now. Too many riders have had enough of the never-ending techno/speed scramble and all it means. Hence we have bikes like the Honda NTV650 and Suzuki VX800. And now, the Moto Guzzi 1000S.
If purity plays any part in the retro race, the Guzzi must be the purest of them all. Look at its credentials: the running gear and engine are MkV Le Mans, an agricultural relic of the days when big air-cooled V-twins were King. Bodywork is almost straight 750S3, the sporting V-twin Guzzi before the MkI Le Mans. Apparently, the tank is made from the original S3 mould…
The 1000S looks old, feels old, and to all intents and purposes is old. Not one person, including members of the trade, picked the Guzzi as a new machine. But there is no doubt in my mind it holds its own as a modern bike.
Why? Because it handles well, pulls strongly, looks good and is in demand.
Climbing aboard the 1000S, the first thing you notice is how small it feels.
There’s no fairing to create an illusion of massiveness. The tank sits narrowly between your thighs and the clip-on handlebars are not much wider. Close your eyes and it’s just like the Le Mans. Open them again and all you have to look at is a skimpy set of instruments.
Stab the electric boot and the 949 cc V-twin rumbles into life. There’s a deep, solid note coming from the pipes and the tickity-tick of pushrods and valves working away in the motor. Wrench open the oh-so-heavy throttle and the Guzzi lurches sideways under the torque.
Already it seems you’re aboard something from the Seventies. The miles-per-Âhour scale marked discreetly under the metric readings on the speedo adds the finishing touch.
Throughout the test this was a manufactured illusion present in nearly every aspect of the Guzzi. Naturally, much of the fantasy/reality of the 1000S proved to be a personal thing (judging by reactions from other riders and my own impressions) but other areas proved to be inescapably good or bad.
Let’s start by talking sweepers — big, long, flowing curves, which the 1000S loves. If any one thing stuck in my mind, it was the beautifully graceful manner in which the Guzzi swooped through the countryside, encouraging licence-threatening behaviour in return for one of motorcycling’s greatest rewards.
With its long wheelbase and narrow 100/90 V18 front and 120/90 V18 rear tyres, the Guzzi’s unshakeable stability is something to be experienced. It’s not the same fat-tyred solidity of modern bikes, more like the old riding-on-rails Âcliche Ducati 900SS feel. The suspension is taut, negating any hint of high-speed weaving, and the steering damper counters the efforts of potentially ‘bar-wrenching humps. The 1000S slides low, sucking up the arcing road and giving an adrenalin hit which seems to match its slow, deliberate handling. Wonderful!
Slow the corners to a signposted 45 km/h and the rider begins to notice the slower steering. Anything faster doesn’t pose a problem but the tighter stuff requires a more planned approach, which took my GSX-R-acquired style some time to adjust to. Concentrating on perfecting the classic smooth technique and putting conscious countersteer into the handlebars was certainly the best way to get reasonably quick speeds here.
I tended to keep the steering damper wound up fairly firm to deal with the bumps, but backing it off eased the effort of taking on a series of tight corners. However, the steering head angle isn’t wide enough to take away the need for the damper, and the suspension, which is just a bit too hard up front, combined with this to make the bigger potholes ‘bar rattling experiences. However, it never became threatening — there were no tankslappers — but it was something I preferred not to live with.
A couple of times the firm front end skipped outward courtesy of some midÂsweeper bumps at speed but to its credit the 1000S wasn’t fazed and kept tracking true. Both preload and rebound damping are adjustable but it would’ve been nice to have a starting point a little further down the scale. Making any alterations to the setting is easy, though, because both are at the top of the fork legs, with damping being simply a turn of the Bitubo inserts’ knobs.
The rear coped well (with my 70 kilos) on the middle of three spring settings, with damping at position two (of four). Again, access is simple with a C spanner for preload and a knob for damping at the top of each shock. All up, the suspension package is very good on all but the bumpiest roads and, in true old-fashioned form, it gets better with speed.
Despite their relatively slim profile, the Pirelli Phantom tyres did a fine job of holding the road, even with the odd suspension-induced departure from it. For most of this test Victorian weather ensured the Guzzi’s watersports performance was tested, but it took some provocation before the rear rubber broke traction. The front tyre never let go, but then it feels as if it’s not pushed nearly as hard as the tyres on more modern bikes.
As far as this test was concerned, this was a bloody good thing. Coming around one nasty, crested corner, with rain pelting down, I found myself going sideways in a big way as the road suddenly became a grizzled wooden bridge. Time to go bye-byes! My personal god doesn’t take a benevolent attitude to such stuff-ups, so I can only put it down to the Guzzi, but the front end stubbornly stayed on line and the back wheel started coming back even before the tarmac pulled the whole plot straight again.
Yes, the 1000S isn’t the nimblest bike around but its stability is great!
The power behind all this is provided by the love-it/hate-it throbbing V-twin which Guzzi has stood by for decades. Its claimed 60 kW at 7500 rpm and 83 Nm at 6250 rpm seem pretty modest for a 1000, especially when three-figure outputs are the go with Japan’s finest. But the mill is so different it doesn’t do to make comparisons. Instead, the Guzzi steps outside them to create an alternative which belongs somewhere between the Ducati and Harley-Davidson ideologies.
The motor’s dominant characteristics, apart from the clatter of pushrods, are its heavy flywheel effect and generous torque delivery. Top gear will do the job whenever the pace isn’t frantic and maintaining any given speed is easy. I found 4000 rpm — halfway to redline and worth 120 km/h — kept things ticking along nicely and faster or slower variations proved just as effortless to hold.
There’s a perceptible kick at 5200 rpm and acceleration is steady, if not blindingly quick, all the way to redline. Trickling through towns in top at 60 km/h allowed a relaxing break before winding it on again at the 100 km/h signs. Rounding slower traffic on the highways was never more than a twist of the throttle away and the speedo needle would jump from 100 to 160 km/h without a worry in the world.
It’s rare to feel the need to rev the 1000S’s motor. Sure, there’s more power to be had in the upper reaches of the rev range and it’s where you want to be when scratching, but I found letting the revs drop in preference to another gearchange was often the best way to ride the Guzzi fast. Using those great lumps of torque can be addictive.
Meanwhile, the motor frugally sips petrol at an average of 18 kilometres per litre. Worst was 15.5 km/l and I managed 19 km/l at times. This’ll give about 380 kays before the tank runs dry (383.4 in my case… I also found the claimed 24-litre tank capacity is a lie – it’s more like 20.64.) At least the 1000S is easy to push!
About the only limiting factor to riding hard on the 1000S is cornering clearance which, while good on the right side, is disappointing on the left. The stands start grinding the road well before the tyres are near their edges, although it’s easy enough to keep them there without levering the back end off the deck. At a glance, it appears both stands get in the way, so modifying the set-up may be a trifle complex, even if it is tempting.
Still, it’d be worthwhile for another reason, too — the stands aren’t great. I had no particular gripe about the centrestand except it’s not quite as good as many others. However the sidestand was a silly little thing which was awkward to use from the saddle and dangerous to put down when off the bike. The Guzzi had to be leant right because of the prop’s swing but then angled uncomfortably left when settled on it.
Another limiting factor to the 1000S’s potential is the brakes. The linked system is a fantastic idea — the pedal operates the rear disc and one front disc, while the lever activates the other front disc — and helps the Guzzi remain stable and predictable under hard braking. However the twin-piston Brembos are almost as old as the V-twin engine. Unfortunately, 1970s braking ability isn’t exactly inspiring.
I’d rate their stopping as acceptable, although less than desirable, but only in good conditions when they’re not being used hard. The brakes are at their worst in the wet when they’ll go dead and feel very wooden, giving the rider no idea of what’s happening and losing a significant amount of power. Even in dry weather they fade after a bit of inspired use. Time to update, Guzzi.
Naturally enough, the longitudinally-mounted crankshaft and shaft drive combine to create some torque reaction under brakes. This can be used to advantage in left-handers because a bit of braking will pitch the big Guzzi lower into the corner. However, right-hander braking stands the machine up and makes it want to run wide.
Guzzis tend to have a slow-shifting gearbox which calls for a deliberate technique, but the test bike’s ‘box proved to be quite sweet. Apart from some difficulty finding first gear from neutral sometimes (complete with a neutral light which sometimes lied embarrassingly) and two false neutrals, the five-speeder didn’t weigh heavily on my mind at all. With such a big flywheel (something around 4.5 kilos from memory) spinning with the motor, it pays to closely match engine revs to road speed when shifting up or down, but it doesn’t take long to get a feel for this. The lower the speed, the more pronounced this effect was. As speeds rose, the gearbox required less and less thought.
At speed, the lack of a fairing really made itself felt. You tend to forget how much the dreaded plastic spoils you — neglected neck muscles didn’t have time to re-adjust to the rigours of constant wind pressure. But you get used to anything eventually and the low ‘bars enabled sufficient weight to angle down on the wrists to counter the breeze, up to about the old ton. All part of true retro motorcycling, I s’pose.
The seat is long enough for the rider to shift fore and aft when comfort demands and everything from nearly upright to a racer crouch can be adopted. And, despite my long legs, I wasn’t too cramped and my knees were nowhere near the rocker covers.
Overall, the 1000S is very comfortable, but I wouldn’t blame anyone for wimping out and going for a fairing and, for longer tours, a sheepskin on the well-padded seat. Pillions fare well, especially as the 1000S gets a full back seat instead of the original 750’s half a seat!
Typically for a big V-twin, there’s a lot of vibration transmitted from the engine. However, it’s a lumpy, low-pitched shake which never really becomes uncomfortable or annoying like the tingles inherent in four cylinder machines. On the move your hands notice the vibration, but it never gets to the numbing stage.
For the most part the view behind isn’t as clear as has become the accepted norm these days, because the mirrors are affected by vibration. I could always make out what was behind, but the finer details were sometimes impossible to see. This was at its worst under acceleration and seemed to settle down at constant revs.
Ah, acceleration and constant revs — wouldn’t it be nice to talk about these things without having to make apologies for the heavy throttle? Riding with gauntlets on, I had to re-position my right hand every five minutes or so as the twist grip gradually moved around in my fist. I’ve heard Guzzi riders get used to this too, but I’d opt for the lighter springs straight away!
Knowing when to change my grip was made apparent by the excellent speedo, which can be read at a glance to within five km/h. Its numbered marks are 30 km/h apart, with five km/h graduations between. The imperial scale gets 10 mph graduations. The white faces of the Veglia clocks make for easy reading, day or night.
With the speedo and tacho is an impressive array of idiot lights. To the sides, each handlebar carries the standard designated controls, which are as good as any of the competition’s.
Secondary lights are all good too, but the headlight isn’t much of an improvement over typical late-’70s equipment. Penetration is good for a constant 100 km/h but the spread doesn’t light up an arcing corner as well as the good contemporary lights. Still, if you’re keen on fast night riding there’s a host of potential spotlight mounting points or even the halogen alternative.
No arguments about the headlight’s looks though! Along with the stainless steel mudguards, the orange-on-Âblack tank and side covers and the liberally applied chrome, the Guzzi is gorgeous. Pity about the quality of finish in places.
See those lovely mirrors? Plastic with flake-away fake chrome, as are the horn’s shiny bits. The right sidecover suffered some chafing from the seat, which in turn seemed to have a spring missing from its lock, making it difficult to use.
However, this was about it as far as low-grade manufacturing goes. It’s not enough to put off buyers, in my opinion, and the rest of the finish is good.
Nice touches like the front mudguard retainers, standard crashbars and solid alloy headlight brackets (which, like the clip-ons, can be moved up and down the fork legs) make for a thoughtfully-finished bike. Buyers will have a choice between alloy wheels, as on our test bike, or spokes (for an extra $250). How long is it since bikes came with all these features?
Want to carry gear? No worries – tankbag, throwovers, seat bag or even the cliched Italian bike rider’s shoulder bag and ocky straps. For this travelling test, I used a Chase Harper tankbag with no trouble and it had the benefit of reducing the amount of wind I copped.
Quite obviously the Guzzi 1000S isn’t going to appeal to everyone. However it is already getting more than its expected share of attention. This test bike was the last of Australia’s first shipment, and someone had already bought it before we got hold of the thing!
Distributor Stolarski’s expected, going by Guzzi’s usual Aussie sales, to have three months’ stock in that first batch but it was gone in four weeks. The Mandello factory can’t seem to build enough to supply the demand from around the world …
Sure, the end result has all the idiosyncracies of any Moto Guzzi. Then again, it’s easy to work on, robust, cheap to run and, above all else, a fine all-round road bike. A price of $11,695 may seem a lot to outlay for such a simple machine when a ZZ-R1100 is cheaper and far more capable, but then the Guzzi is poor value for money only if you’re into ZZ-Rs and their ilk. Taken on its merits, the 1000S is a good buy.
When I pulled up at Moto Italiano at the end of my time with the Moto Guzzi, I really didn’t want to give it back. A plane was waiting for the trip home, but the 1000S was a much more inviting proposition.
After all, the coast road from Melbourne to Sydney is a ripper with plenty of long, fast sweepers just waiting for a bike like this. Ah, I can see it now. You feel drawn. Faster, faster. The curve sucks up under the Guzzi’s wheels. You lean in, lower, faster. Swoop through, blast out the other side. Where’s the next one?
Good old-fashioned fun? You bet your repli-racer it is!
By Mick Matheson, Two Wheels, December 1990
Ian Falloon is one of the world’s foremost authorities on classic motorcycles, particularly the Italian marques Ducati and Moto Guzzi, and a prolific author. Much of his work is now available online here. In print, Ian’s Moto Guzzi titles include The Moto Guzzi Sport and Le Mans Bible, The Essential Buyer’s Guide to Moto Guzzi Two Valve Big Twins, The Moto Guzzi Story and The Complete Book of Moto Guzzi, pictured below. You can order copies from Veloce Publishing here.
