MOTO GUZZI V7
The open road. That’s the whole point of buying a modern bike which looks, sounds and romps along like an old bike. Get it out of the garage and into gear. Dave Barkshire goes for a blast on Guzzi’s timeless V-twin
The open road. That’s the whole point of buying a modern bike which looks, sounds and romps along like an old bike. Get it out of the garage and into gear. Dave Barkshire goes for a blast on Guzzi’s timeless V-twin
Back in the 1920s and 30s it wasn’t uncommon for a motorcycle journalist to praise a sports bike for its docility; not something that’s likely to happen today. What they liked was a bike’s good manners when pottering around town or taking a gentle spin through the countryside. This was praise indeed for a motorcycle which did both fast and slow equally well. Today’s marginally derogative equivalent might be to describe a bike as suitable for a novice. The reincarnated Moto Guzzi V7 sometimes gets this treatment and it’s for all the right reasons.
This Moto Guzzi V7 Café from around 2011 has these same good manners and much more too. In many ways it bridges the gap between old classics and the new. It’s a proper modern retro, not just a pastiche of an imagined classic as some conjured retros are. When you look at it against a V7 Sport from 1971 there’s not so much difference visually or in substance.
The engine was first used by Moto Guzzi in 1967 and has been incrementally developed to the current time and is known as the ‘small block’. A recurring jibe from modern journalists concerns the lack of power, but they completely miss the point. While the V7 doesn’t have the outright brutality of a hairy-arsed sports bike, it does have plenty of power for anyone but a kneedown scraper. It has bags of torque starting almost from tickover, so you don’t need to change down through the five-speed box for so many corners.
How Moto Guzzi achieve such flexibility in this age of short strokes and light flywheels is a mystery, but it’s something which is so often lacking in modern engines, and is one good reason why this machine might appeal to a rider of old iron. Another good reason would be its compact size. The V7 isn’t made for 7-foot giants and doesn’t feel like a block of flats when being wheeled around the garage.
Turn the ignition key to see the needles in the twin dials spin up and down, and the panel of warning lights tells you the V7 is ready for battle. Starting is simple: sidestand up, turn key, cold running lever pulled towards you, clutch in, press button. On the first couple of firings the engine shakes left and right – just enough to let you know it’s a proper manly engine – which settles down to a clean tickover right away. The clutch is fairly light and the gearbox well behaved, so you notice neither during the ride. That’s how it should be.
Pulling away, it would be very easy to filter straight into city traffic and feel completely at ease first time out. Gear changes are simple and positive although some critics find them clunky. Maybe they can be a bit tight when new but this one is a peach, which means neutral is always easy to find and its light comes on at the right time. The motor growls when prowling around town and the forward-leaning riding position is not extreme enough to be uncomfortable. The mirrors can be tweaked just enough to be usable and don’t vibrate enough to blur the view.
Right from the off, the rider feels quite at home aboard the V7 and is not bothered by erratic habits or sulky behaviour. The brakes are powerful and progressive and never feel as though they’re going to lock up prematurely – although the rear may lock during an emergency stop as there’s no ABS on this model.
As the road opens up and higher speed cornering comes into play, so the V7 seems to really enjoy itself happily swinging from one bend to another. It’s time to grip the tank with your knees and ride it like a horse. Just the slightest body input really sharpens up the line, rewarding the jockey with a feeling of control and exhilaration.
As the motor spins in the ‘wrong’ axis, there is something of a slight pendulous waft as the front end is brought into line before entering a corner. I don’t know how to better describe it, but it’s not a bad thing. The steering is mostly neutral and doesn’t become razorsharp with speed like some Ducatis, but the V7 is quite happy being thrown around. It’s unlikely to reveal shortcomings at less than hooligan speeds, but it is not a racing bike. Occasionally the front end can feel slightly uncertain on uneven surfaces, but is not enough to worry the experienced rider.
Blowing past cars with a twist of the wrist is child’s play; the supposed lack of power would only be a concern if the rider was being totally reckless. Changing gear cranked into bends doesn’t seem to give such a strong torque reaction as you’ll find on some old BMWs, so you’re not likely to be thrown into the weeds unless you’re on the ragged edge. The suspension is set for comfort. It suits the bike and feels well balanced and comfortable for general riding duties.
Slow down a bit and enjoy the bends, just rolling the throttle on and off, and you’ll be
surprised at how low the rev counter will go without any snatching or complaining from the engine. It’s just raw low-down grunt with the pulses of the engine becoming more vibey as the needle drops. Around town or in the lanes the exhaust note is more beefy than you might expect, but as you turn on the power the motor becomes silky smooth. Beyond 60mph the sound is lost in the wind, which makes the V7 very comfortable for long rides at speed without noise and vibes to fatigue the rider.
On the motorway it’s surprisingly at home too. The V7 seems to enjoy life in the fast lane and will happily cruise for as long as you can take the wind. Somewhere in the 70 to 90 zone is comfortable for the bike – but with nothing more than a small wind shield the rider will soon tire of such speed and buffeting. The motor remains silky smooth without giving the rider the white finger fizz.
It’s time to take the next exit slip road, and get back onto the winding back roads where the Guzzi belongs. When the fun and adventuring has finally stopped and the V7 is back home on its sidestand, cooling down, you can enjoy the pinging sounds of the aluminium air-cooled engine sounding like a cosmic xylophone.
Such a simple layout as this means a rider familiar with traditional iron won’t feel too sheepish about tackling home mechanics or servicing. The cylinders are right there in your face, there’s no chain to worry about and everything is visible and understandable. The engine has only two valves per head and they’re pushrod operated: only fuel injection and electronic ignition remind you that it’s the 21st century. This Café variant has ace bars and a swept-up exhaust. The footrests are not placed any further back from standard, which isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The handlebar clutch control has been moved to point down a few degrees on this V7 to make the rider’s wrist more comfortable. Ideally, it should point down a few degrees further, which isn’t possible with these bars but this is soon forgotten once underway. I took a ride for nine hours through Wales recently and among many aching body parts I didn’t notice my wrists.
Long rides in relative comfort come as standard, but it all depends on your age and condition. The saddle on this V7 is a single seat type that is comfortable, and the tank is narrow enough to not get in the way of the rider’s legs, but the warm cylinders are close to the knees. If you’re tall then you’ll occasionally get that hot knee feeling, so very tall riders (over 6’) will probably find the V7 too compact.
Checking for loose bolts is recommended as things can occasionally shake loose, and I understand that chrome corrosion and ‘ethanol pox’ shrinking the plastic tank are treats to look forward to.
At best a full tank of fuel might last for between 190 and 200 miles, and at some stage the notorious fuel warning light may or may not illuminate. They seem to trigger differently on different bikes, so you need to keep an eye on the fuel level until you have confidence in the light. Expect to get somewhere close to 50mpg in the real world and maybe better than 55pmg with gentle terrain and a light hand.
So why, inquisitive reader, might you want to track down a V7 for yourself? Apart from all of the above, they are very easy to live with and are happy doing whatever riding you want to do. Potter around with a smile on your face, tear it up on the bends or spend the weekend touring: the Guzzi does it all and it has a special V-twin soul – so you can give yours a name if you like.
You don’t see many Moto Guzzis on the road; they’re considered a bit niche and will therefore appeal to anyone who likes to feel
distinguished from the rest of the crowd. The character and quirks will stop you getting bored too quickly and you may just find yourself going out for rides for any excuse that you can make up on the spot because you can’t get enough of it. Its simple good looks will make you irresistible to the opposite sex and you’ll also find greybeards waiting to talk to you every time you come out of the supermarket to tell you about their brother’s Vincent Bantam.
Have a look around the web and you’ll see plenty of interest in the forums and lots of aftermarket exhausts and other goodies available. Custom builders love them and there are some beautiful creations out there. Goggles on, sheepskin zipped up: the V7 is a gentleman’s mount. You don’t have to be a gentleman to ride one, but it might make one of you.