MATCHLESS G80
Riders seeking classic credentials attached to all mod cons might seriously consider the last Matchless of the line: a big single with electric start and twin-disc stoppers. Paul Miles gives one a whirl…
Riders seeking classic credentials attached to all mod cons might seriously consider the last Matchless of the line: a big single with electric start and twin-disc stoppers. Paul Miles gives one a whirl…
Like many of us, I’ve enjoyed the long-running saga of Frank’s Devonshire-built, almost-butnot-quite a British bike which has appeared in RC a couple of times. I’d assumed it was a ‘keeper’ because our great leader had told us so on several occasions. So when he mentioned in passing that he planned to have a clear-out I indicated that I might be persuaded to take it on, not believing for a moment that he was ever really going to sell it…
A few weeks later the Matchless washed up on these fair North Dorset shores courtesy of another RC subscriber (thanks, Dave). I heaved it onto the bench, noting the sticky front brake; still, I’m sure the rib will eventually pop back into place. The bike looked… grubby. All Frank’s bikes seem to, that’s because he’s a rider, not a polisher. To me, a happy bike (and rider) is a clean one, so I set to with the paraffin and polish and ended up with what you see here.
The British-made frame is still pretty much perfect after three decades, but the Italian chrome and alloy hasn’t fared quite so well. The Radaelli wheel rims are especially poor and will need replacing in due course. I charged the battery, changed the oil and filter and attempted to start it for the first time.
In case you remained blissfully unaware, the Rotax engine that powers the Matchless came in two flavours: kickstart only, or electrofoot. Frank’s / mine is the latter. One version would cost the keen buyer a fair amount of money, the other about the price of a cheese roll. The reason? It’s almost impossible to kick start one of these. Not only is it left-sided but it has a ghastly fold-at-the-base lever, while the motor lacks flywheel effect so your foot lunges quickly down in a vaguely uncontrolled action and jars your leg. A bit like a Morini but
without the actual starting bit at the end. This left me with little alternative other than to try the button. It started. I tried again. It repeated the trick. From now on I’m letting the volts take the jolts. The inaugural run was to the petrol station and my first impressions were of a harsh ride. The G80 felt tall for what, after all, is just a single, and it was VERY LOUD. The front brakes, despite being twinned examples of Brembo’s finest, were just shockingly bad. In fairness, I’d been told this had stood for a decade and was in clear need of recommissioning. Having made the epic journey to the fuel stop a mile away, I appraised the Matchless in the daylight.
It’s a classically handsome motorcycle with several of the styling cues that make British bikes so desirable. Even that monolithic lump of motor seemed to sit well in the frame: jeez, I must be getting old. I wasn’t quite so enamoured five minutes later when it wouldn’t start. The motor no longer turned when I pressed the button and I immediately suspected the scruffy and oily-looking sidestand cut-out switch. Wobbling said switch and pressing the button, I eventually got it to fire up and made it home without further issues. Resolving to bypass the wretched thing, I dismantled half the bike before discovering the truth – it was already disconnected! My forecourt antics had no influence, the Horrid Matchless just decided not to cooperate.
This intermittent starting problem got worse, despite my fitting new cables and cleaning all the earthing points. After a while it became apparent that it had to be the motor itself. Removing the forward mounted starter is a straightforward job and I eventually found the issue; the brushes were disintegrating. Some online research revealed the starter motor to be visually similar to that fitted by Armstrong to the military 350 version, not the larger motor used on other 500s, so I took a chance and ordered a new
brush set –which went straight in and the Harris has been perfectly behaved ever since.
While it was apart, I took the opportunity to change the cambelt; after all, it must be at least a decade old. These aren’t generally difficult jobs but the Rotax, designed for military use, has what must be the easiest design ever made. It took seven minutes from start to finish! Four Allen screws to remove the cover; line up the markings on the sprockets, slacken the idler pulley and remove old belt. Fit new belt and re-tension the idler. Top tip: the correct tension is when a 5mm Allen key just passes twixt belt and pulley but a 6mm doesn’t. I was taught this by a Ducati expert and it’s always the case. Job done.
Now I’d a bike that started easily and promised better reliability, what’s next? A proper ride to establish a list of any issues. One hundred miles later I’d come up with:
Far too loud
Ride very harsh
Brakes appalling, with the front binding on
Hopelessly over-geared The ‘silencer’ fitted was a replica Goldie type. Delving into the magic box of bits that Frank thoughtfully sent with the bike unearthed a NOS original silencer. Brilliant! Except, it didn’t fit, as the connector pipe is too large. Hmmm. Taking the opportunity to look down the freshly liberated and surprisingly lightweight Goldie pipe I saw… nothing. It’s straight through. But I didn’t get where I’ve yet to arrive by being unimaginative, so a bit of light bodging saw a universal internal baffle tube fitted. With that the decibels have reduced by about 30%. I’ve made some progress, at least until I unearth the correct link pipe.
Frank’s box provided the solution to the second issue, too. A small carton was found to contain the last known NOS set of OE Paoli rear shocks. Fitting them has transformed the ride, at least for me. I’ve always found the spring rates on Hagons to be too heavy; perhaps I just like it to be soft and wobbly. Further delving into Pandora Westworth’s box of treasures I unearthed two NOS wiring looms and a nicely wrapped centrestand! And, what’s this at the very bottom of the box? Some shiny stainless wheel spindles, which were quickly fitted.
Now on a bit of a roll, I stripped the calipers, fitting new seals and pads. The difference was… negligible, harrumph. Quite by chance, I discovered that the brake lever itself had almost dry seized through lack of use and 30 seconds of cleaning and lubrication has restored the twin disc front end to hitherto unimaginable levels of ordinariness. Note to self: check the small things first.
Just the gearing left to do. Contemporary tests mention the lack of flywheel effect at
low revs compared to ‘proper’ British bikes and, while that’s true, the overall gearing hardly helps. The Rotax was unable to pull cleanly under 3000rpm, meaning that even near-50mph cruising required dropping into fourth gear as top would only run cleanly at speeds above that.
The ratios were set, no doubt, to maximise the effects of such an efficient, high-revving, four-valve motor, bestowing the Matchless with an impressive three figure top speed. But unless the rider was howling it everywhere in the wrong gear, it was jerking in and out of the power band at normal speeds. It was really and truly horrid. Counting 20 teeth on the front sprocket, I reasoned that a 19T should help, so I of course ordered an 18, because less is more. Am I not a gearing guru?
No, as it turns out. The new sprocket works for a 520 chain, as fitted to all the other Rotax powered bikes except the Harassed, which used a 530 of course. Resigned to fitting a new rear sprocket and thinner chain to go with my newly skinny 18 toother, I once again turned to the Armstrong catalogue. Their rear sprocket looks similar… perhaps it will fit. It does, but that’s also a different size, with 47 teeth rather than the 46 Harris specified, further lowering the gearing.
So equipped, the snatchy, sub-3000rpm pickup has gone, with smooth power and much improved throttle response. I could now select fifth gear at about 30mph and drive cleanly to the new top speed of… 70mph. It appeared that two teeth off the front and one extra on the back has somewhat tamed the tiger of Newton Abbott. By now I was getting pretty adept at this sprocket changing malarkey, so the 19T cog I should have ordered in the first place has been fitted and approved. The machine now feels more long-legged than the go-kart gearing I’d previously used and still allows pleasant thoughts to percolate through to the rider at 50mph yet offers a new top
speed of about 90mph.
Having sorted through the initial problems, mostly the effects of long-term storage, and having modified the suspension and gearing to something more to my liking, what do I think of it? It’s lovely and light to ride and very easy to push around the workshop. Both stands work well and having a bike with an electric start is fast becoming a pleasant exception for me. The performance is at least on a par with contemporary sporting singles from Japan, such as the SR or XBR 500s, yet, despite that clever four-valve head and abundance of revs it is nothing like a traditional British single to ride. It’s a handsome, comfortable and competent motorcycle which provides endless opportunities to confuse or amuse the gathered throng at an event.
For many people that would be enough, but do I find myself looking back at it as I close the shed door? No.
Back in the late 1980s the G80 was just about the only brand new British motorcycle one could purchase at vaguely normal prices, a bike hopefully appealing to the rider who yearned for a return to the simplicity of an air-cooled twin-shock classic single. The new generation of Hinckley Bonnevilles, arguably little more than a variation on Harris’ take on an old theme, were still something like 13 years away. Their eventual success proved that the proposition worked, but perhaps customers pining for the good old days just didn’t find the Harris different enough, either in style or performance, to the ageing clunkers they were still running.
Strange bike: yes. Nice bike: yes. Forever bike: no. Jobs done! Estimates suggest that LF Harris produced a total of 860 G80s, of which 364 were electric-start twin-disc editions