HORSES FOR COURSES
Design guru Glynn Kerr traces instances of convergence and give-and-take between the two-wheel world and its four-wheel counterpart
MOTORCYCLE and car engines each have very different roles to play. Being lighter, and typically more performance-orientated, bikes can focus on high-end horsepower, while cars, with many times the weight penalty, have to first address low-end torque. Not that there aren’t some peaky cars, and grunty motorcycles, but everything is relative. For the most part, these are two different games, and there are two sets of rules.
That said, there have been several applications where higher-revving motorcycle technology has benefited the four-wheel world. Yamaha have engineered, and sometimes even built, high-performance engines for Toyota and Lexus models, starting with the 2000 GT in 1967 (James Bond famously drove a one-off convertible in the film
You Only Live Twice and even the regular coupés now fetch well in excess of $1 million, that is Rs 6.5 crore). The Lexus IS F, Toyota Celica and MR2 are more common examples. In addition to enjoying a long-running co-operation with Toyota, Yamaha have also helped develop engines for Ford and Volvo.
Over in Europe, the famous Moto Guzzi V-twin was first developed as a more powerful upgrade for the FIAT 500. It was only when the project was ultimately rejected by FIAT that the company decided to build a motorcycle around it. The result formed the origin of every Moto Guzzi model produced today.
There have been numerous examples of car companies utilising existing motorcycle engines, either for economy or performance reasons, although in either case, lightness of weight has been essential due to the aforementioned lack of torque. The absence of a reverse gear is a further downside.
On frugality grounds, three- or fourwheelers such as the British Bond used singles — in Bond’s case, initially a 122-cc Villiers two-stroke in 1949. Performance must have been notable by its absence. The company got around the reverse gear issue by using a solenoid switch which would spin the starter, and therefore the engine, in either direction. Sometimes thrift helps encourage genius.
The Italian manufacturer Iso used a version of its two-stroke motorcycle engine in its Isetta ‘Bubble Car’ of 1953, with BMW transplanting its own 250cc four-stroke from the R25/3 when it took up licensed production two years later. Their subsequent 600 and 700 models used boxer twins, also straight from their motorcycle division. Post-War austerity was the main motivating force behind these diminutive vehicles, although other benefits included different taxation and drivers’ license categories. In many cases, these cars could be driven on a motorcycle licence, although as with taxation groups, the rules varied from country to country.
Berkeley and Fairthorpe mixed the economical attributes with a more spirited performance, but that was still relative by today’s standards. Proprietary engines included Anzani, Excelsior, BSA, and Royal Enfield. And, of course, there was the famous Morgan threewheeler. While the others tucked the engine away under the bodywork to deliberately hide their motorcycle ancestry, the Morgan proudly stuck it right up front, and out in the open for all to see. A glorious sight it was too. Whether J.A.P. or Matchless, the big long-stroke V-twins with their polished
heads were the focal point of the whole design. Later replicas have used Moto Guzzi and Harley-Davidson power, and Morgan themselves have recently reintroduced the model with a 1,983-cc S&S unit. Weight is around 550 kg and the company gives a 0-100 km/h time of 4.7 seconds. Other recent, more performance-orientated models include the Suzuki-engined Westfield Megabusa and the Kawasaki ZX-6R-powered Scorpion P6, plus the Campagna T-Rex, which uses BMW’s 1.6-litre six-cylinder unit.
By contrast, there are some occasions where the situation has been reversed, and people — even some corporations — decided it would be a smart move to install a car engine in a motorcycle. The reasons for this, other than they just happened to have one lying around, are less clear.
It may be understandable that Boss Hoss just went for it, and decided to build the most outrageous motorcycle you could buy. With Chevrolet 5.7-litre (350 cubic inches) or 8.2 litre (502 cubic inches) V8s, there’s little that can outshadow it — unless you count the MTT Y2K, which got its power from a helicopter-sourced gas turbine. The Boss Hoss is big, brash, and loud, in a way
Yamaha have engineered, and sometimes even built, high-performance engines for Toyota and Lexus models, starting with the 2000 GT in 1967
that could only come out of America. It’s an unapologetic statement of excess. Just don’t drop one in the parking lot, unless there’s a team of Sumo wrestlers around to help you pick it up.
The Boss Hoss was an exaggeration of Friedel Münch’s ‘Mammut’ (Mammoth) concept from the mid1960s. Japanese multis were still several years off, so lacking a suitable source to power his beast, he turned to the NSU TT to upstage the competition. The TT had already proved itself in road racing and rallies; so the 1.0-litre, 55-PS, aircooled transverse four was a fairly logical fit. Later developments used NSU’s larger TTS motor, and in the Mammut’s final fuel-injected 1200 TTS-E form, it produced a healthy 100 PS. No wheelbase was ever quoted, but the bike’s proportions looked correct in the length, although rather tall. This was due in part to the tall, near-vertical engine, and the 34-litre fuel tank. Performance was strong, with a quoted time of 0-100 km/h in 4.2 seconds, although at a quoted 245 kg dry, the bike was no lightweight. Münch’s last design was the Mammut 2000. True to form, he used a car engine once again, this time a turbocharged 2.0-litre Ford Cosworth producing 260 PS. Fifteen units were believed to have been built by the time the re-launched company finally closed its doors.
Continuing the bigger-is-better theme, the Dodge Tomahawk featured an 8.3-litre, V10 engine lifted from the Dodge Viper. Despite claims that it would be produced in a limited number, it remained a design study, possibly due to the fact that the paired wheels, which supposedly negated the need to lean through bends, seemed highly unlikely to actually work at speed. This didn’t stop French tuner Ludovic Lazareth from creating an almost identical concept using a 470-PS Maserati V8 engine several years later. Sometimes “Because I can” is not a sufficient answer to the question “Why?”
While we’re questioning French sanity, let’s also consider the BFG. Never heard of the company? They’re
the ones who felt it would be entirely logical to wedge a Citröen GSA engine into a motorcycle frame, and market it as a homespun alternative to BMW. The company, whose name was derived from the initials of the three founders — Louis Boccardo, Dominique Favario, and Thierry Grange — actually produced 400 of the machines from 1982-83 before the company was taken over by MBK (later a Yamaha subsidiary), after which sales declined.
Despite the Citröen engine, the rolling chassis of the BFG looked surprisingly convincing, if a little long. Wheelbase was 1,610 millimetres compared with 1,465 mm for the BMW R 100 RT, or even 1,545 mm for the Honda Gold Wing GL1000. But the engine, a four-cylinder water-cooled boxer similar in layout to the Gold Wing, didn’t look out of place. It produced 70 PS, which was quite respectable for a tourer of the time, and could propel the 267-kg (dry) device to a quoted 190 km/h. Guzzi Le Mans alloy wheels and Ducati 900SS-esque silencers helped complete the picture. But then awkward French styling (the BFG was one of the contenders for my first ‘World’s Ugliest Bike’ award), plus the headlight and instruments from a Renault 5, doomed the bike to failure. At one point, the French police were interested in a large order, but the numbers never materialised.
Boccardo went on to create another motorcycle, known as the MF (which, I suppose, doesn’t have the same connotation in French), which had a two-cylinder engine from the Citröen Visa. There was even one with a Peugeot diesel but, not surprisingly, that venture failed too.
There may be some arguments for interchanging engines between cars and motorcycles, but generally they are each designed for a specific purpose, and swapping them around brings inherent issues. It’s a matter of horses for courses. And, no, I’m not referring to the menu in a French restaurant.