MOTO GUZZI V50
Old Italian motorcycles are unreliable, right? Not necessarily. Kev Brown’s small-block Moto Guzzi has endured four decades of entertaining episodes in all weathers, and it’s still going strong…
Old Italian motorcycles are unreliable, right? Not necessarily. Kev Brown’s smallblock Moto Guzzi has endured four decades of entertaining episodes in all weathers, and it’s still going strong…
In 40 years, the Moto Guzzi is only vehicle I’ve ever owned from new. I bought it when I was 20, in 1979, and the only reason I could afford it back then was because someone ran a red light and knocked me off my Suzuki GT500. I needed transport for my imminent holiday so part-exchanged the repaired GT500 and got £565 for it against a brand-new V50 costing £1364 from Kings of Birmingham – the insurance pay-out for the accident meant I could just about afford it. I kept the Suzuki’s rubber-mounted mirrors and fitted them to the V50, so they’re older than the rest of the bike and date back to 1975.
I liked V-twin engines and the idea of shaft drive, especially after adjusting and replacing chains all the time – they didn’t last too well in the 1970s. I couldn’t afford a BMW on the pay of an apprentice mechanic, and the boxer’s seat was also too high for me. Likewise, I heard about the emerging Honda CX500, but when it arrived it was tall, big and heavy. Then I saw a roadtest about the V50: small, light and one of the best-handling middleweights they’d ridden. I didn’t think I’d be able to afford one until the man in a Rover SD1 sent me and my Suzuki flying!
I got the V50 a week before the new V-registration plate came out, but I couldn’t wait because we were heading off to Devon. In the end, our ‘touring’ holiday was short of long rides because the petrol strikes were on and we had to queue for any available petrol. I carried out the V50’s first oil change outside our holiday rental, and then it was my only transport for the next four years.
The first speedo drive packed up within months – I was doing about 12,000 miles a year and kept replacing the speedo drive, but they only lasted a short while. I had to estimate the speed from the revs for probably 30 or 40k miles, until the fifth replacement drive worked properly and has lasted to this day. So although the odo now says 63,000
miles the bike has probably travelled about 100,000. Not that much for 40 years!
At the end of the 1970s I started working away from home so the V50 was only used for weekends and holidays – trips to the Isle of Man, Le Touquet beach race, Le Mans and the Bol d’Or. On all those trips it never had a major mechanical breakdown, we never had to call for any assistance, and it always got me home… although the ignition switches kept failing. It ate three originals, and then I fitted a pattern one which is still working.
After a couple of years I realised that the air filter breather system was poorly designed and hard to get at. So I took it off and fitted a pair of S&B filters. I ran the 2-into-1 breathers from the heads into an oil separator breather off a Simca van, then returned the feed to the sump as standard, with a large bore pipe rearwards as with old Triumphs. I’ve since changed this pipe to a small filter, like a mini K&N.
Other mods include a Cibie Z-beam headlamp run through relays, and Fiamm horns. The tail lamp bulbs kept blowing so I rubber-mounted the rear light using grommets with spacers through the rear mudguard, and haven’t had a bulb blow since. I can’t remember why (!) but I fitted indicators from a Honda SuperDream. To cope with the cold overnight crossContinental rides, I added handguards and heated grips from a BMW 650. Hagon rear shocks arrived in 1999.
Over time I’ve also adapted the bike’s side and centre stands. I tried different shaped pins for the sidestand until I found and modded one to allow more lean without it flicking up too easily. The centrestand has cracked – twice! – so I removed ¾” from it to allow easier loading with less stress. I’ve added a web to the foot lever section and stainless strips to stop wear in the future.
Sometime in the 1980s, the brake reservoir under the petrol tank wept brake fluid onto the frame. This started the paint-stripping process, so I took off everything else to get the frame powder-coated. Out of interest, I pulled apart the engine to check it over. Everything measured up fine, but as it was apart I fitted a new set of shells and a timing chain anyway.
A decade later it started using a bit of oil. I took off the heads and barrels to find that the piston rings had worn so much the gap was nearly 4mm! The oil rings were N-shaped instead of H-shaped – it’s amazing that it wasn’t guzzling oil. The bores and pistons were OK, so I fitted a new set of rings. It’s still on the original barrels and pistons. There’s a bit of piston rattle now, but it’s not using any oil so I think it’ll be OK for a few more years. Maybe I’ll look at it when it’s 50 years old!
One mad two-up trip to the Bol d’Or in the 1980s did have serious top-end consequences, riding flat out all the way on French unleaded petrol. The valve seats receded so the engine lost power and wouldn’t tick over. I backed off the tappets three times during the trip, then recut and reground the valves once home. They were very expensive – a set of secondhand replacements cost £120, but these lasted until 1997. The cylinder heads held out until then with a couple more regrinds, but I knew their time was up when the heads started to crack
between the valve seats. After that I fitted Raceco stainless valves and it’s been OK since.
At the same time I also replaced the braking system’s linked master cylinder and all the hoses with Goodridge braided ones. I’d already swapped the cable-operated Mk2 front for the Mk3 version as the earlier setup gave very little feel. I still have the linked brakes. They are excellent, I don’t know why anyone disconnects them. You can brake hard and late into corners and it’s really well balanced; you hardly need the extra front disc.
Our trip to Le Mans in 1993 was particularly memorable. There were five of us, including Ian on a Bonnie, Rod on a Honda CX500 and my brother Andy on a Suzuki GSX550. The day before setting off, I rode through a ford which was deeper than I thought, and the water swamped the lower half of the engine. All the lights on the dash flickered and flashed for a while then settled down, so we carried on loading and set off for the ferry. The alternator lamp kept flickering and by the time we reached Portsmouth it was on full time. But with my usual cavalier attitude I figured there would be a way to sort it at Le Mans.
Before I could even consider it, Rod’s super-reliable CX holed a piston, producing major smoke. I suggested he just kept going – slowly – and didn’t stop until Le Mans. We went ahead and would take a break while he caught up and passed in a slow cloud of smoke. But then Andy’s GSX wouldn’t start! We messed around with electrical connectors and the sidestand switch: success, and off we went again.
By the time we got to Le Mans my battery was totally flat. I’d been pulled over by the Gendarmes for having no lights. When I explained that I’d need a push if I stopped the engine they let me carry on. We didn’t have a battery charger, but we did have a friend with a Lotus, so we put my battery in the car to cross-charge it. Meanwhile, the Suzuki’s electrical gremlins had struck multiple times, but we just about managed to start it.
After the race, Rod set off slowly on his smoky CX with the oil topped up while we packed up the camp. This time, the GSX simply would not start. So out came the tow rope… and I started towing Andy with the Guzzi. I couldn’t physically hold the rope for that distance so the rope was tied from my wobbly luggage rack to his fork leg. We proceeded toward Cherbourg at a fair pace, with a few shaken heads and dire warnings from the Gendarmes. They were right: we came over the brow of one hill far too fast to slow down before the roundabout ahead. My brother knew we’d have to go for it so lined himself and the GSX up for a fast entry and exit. We made it, but as we changed direction the Guzzi’s back end got yanked one way and the Suzuki’s forks were yanked the other…
Back in the UK, Rod dumped the CX with a friend and took a train home. I don’t think he ever collected the Honda. Andy and I continued on with the Guzzi towing the Suzuki. When it got dark, we attached cycle lamps with insulating tape – one on each bike! Our companions rode ahead and behind us to light the way. Eventually, after road closures, diversions, twisty lanes, we made it back home without attracting attention from the police. I got the Guzzi’s alternator re-wired, no problem, but Andy could never make the Suzuki reliable. He never knew when the next breakdown would occur, so got rid of it and bought a Honda CBR600.
The Guzzi has been joined by other bikes over the years, including my Triumph TR5T (see RC175) and a BMW R850R. The TR5T is really nice to ride but not for constant high speeds; it’s best on small, minor roads. The BMW 850R is an amazing mile muncher: smooth, controlled and can really be pushed in bends. It’s covered nearly 200,000 miles, with a new clutch at 140,000 miles and three pairs of Paralever bearings. But the Guzzi is much lighter and easier to manoeuvre. Last year, it went to the VMCC’s Festival of 1000 Bikes, Cadwell Park, lots of local rides and carried me around the Herefordshire On The Edge event.
The best thing about the Guzzi? It always starts, even if it hasn’t run for months. Just check the oil and tyres, then press the button. It’s the sort of bike you can ride anywhere in any condition. Last winter we went on a 140-mile round trip to Ludlow – just to have a bacon sandwich in the market. It was really grotty weather and we were riding on very wet, slippery B-roads – a few slides here and there to hone my wet-weather riding skills! The V50 was in a right state by the time we got home, but it was fun. And the rain will gradually clean it on my daily commute to work…
The V50 uses a can of oil every 6000 miles and tyres about every 8000 miles, although in one particularly bad winter I got 14,000 miles out of a rear tyre. The shaft is more or less unnoticeable unless you’re clumsy with downshifts. The gearchange, once you’re used to it, can be smooth and precise. Just don’t rush it and you’ll avoid any clunks or crunches.
The forks were initially a bit wobbly, but once I fitted a fork brace the V50’s handling is brilliant. It has a superb ability to carry corner speed at big lean angles – I’ve worn away the end of the brake pedal and had to angle the silencer clips inward as they were getting scraped. The starter motor has never needed any attention and it uses a car battery, size nine: I’ve had four or five over the years, not many. It’s happy cruising up to around 85mph but is more economical if kept to the mid-70s.
If you’re thinking of buying one, and it runs and rides OK, then there’s little to worry about. The V50 is easy to ride and light to move around. And I’ve had 40 years with mine, with no real problems: that says a lot.