Page 1  /  Page 2  /  Page 3

Spinning back to my home in North Carolina from Moto Guzzi’s North American headquarters in Woodstock, Georgia, opened a floodgate of memories that took me back to my formative motorcycling years in southern England.

I had ridden my well-worn Yamaha XT 500 cross-country in search of work and, on securing a job, was informed my new boss was also a motorcyclist. “If you want to see my bike, it’s in the storage shed waiting for some parts from the local dealer,” he told me. I was also informed if I wanted to pick up the parts I could put it back together for him.

I will never forget opening the creaky old shed door and seeing the bike for the first time. Covered in dust, with the tank off and the seat propped up to allow the battery to be placed on a trickle charger, I gazed in amazement at the giant cylinders poking out from either side of the frame. Seeing “850 Le Mans I” on the side panels I realized this was almost like two XT 500 motors.

I marvelled at the huge 36mm Dellorto carburettors, their bell-mouth intakes covered in just enough mesh to stop your hand getting sucked into the cylinders. It had rear-set pegs, clip-on handlebars and a long, lean, race style seat. I was in love. The following days saw broken oil lines replaced, a thorough cleaning and all the minor details like tire pressure, oil level etc taken care of as the bike came back into roadworthy condition.

Standing out in the sunshine, the Italian racing red tank gleaming, I pulled up the choke lever, switched on the gas taps and fired the big Guzzi to life.

Wow! What a surprise as the bike roared into life, rocking violently from side to side, the carburettors loudly sucking unfiltered air, and the near-empty dual exhausts reverberating around the yard. My surprise was further compounded when I rode the bike for the first time. It seemed positively gutless and rode like a truck; my XT was swifter and easier to steer.

Later I found the power band and all was forgiven; the bike surged forward like a racehorse, cornering speeds went into a new dimension, and I was hooked. A few weeks later, I was working two jobs and had saved up enough money to convince my bank manager to loan me the balance: the fiery red Italian stallion was mine.

High unemployment, thanks Margaret Thatcher, mechanical ignorance and fickle Italian electrics prematurely ended our relationship a couple of years later. A more outrageous Italian beast had been purchased, a Slater Brothers Laverda 1200 Mirage. One of them had to go.

Fast forward 20 years and I find myself back on a big Moto Guzzi, proudly bearing the name “Le Mans" on its side panels, being transported back to the heady days of owning a “Superbike” in the small English seaside town of my youth. It is a feeling that will not be repeated often in our fast changing times, I think.

How many modern bikes are still so obviously connected to their roots the way this 2003 Moto Guzzi V11 Le Mans is? It still uses what appear to be the same engine and gearbox casings, and the two huge air-cooled cylinders still stick out into the atmosphere, even if they are now angular, not round, in shape. The bike still rocks on idle somewhat, and it remains long, low and lean with power being taken to the rear wheel by a shaft.

It has grown up though, as hopefully so have I, and is a lot more sophisticated than its predecessor. Glitch free fuel injection replaces the hit or miss Dellorto carburettors. A near perfectly shifting six-speed gearbox replaces the “borrowed from a tractor” five-speed, and the forearm pumping clutch is now a feather-light hydraulic affair.

The original Le Mans had excellent Brembo brakes and this tradition continues. Large 320mm front rotors and gold line four-piston calipers live up front and a dual- piston caliper out back grabs a 282mm unit. They do a great job with plenty of feel; it is just necessary to give a fairly hefty pull on the lever to get the fluid down to the pads and don’t expect sport bike response. With the bike tipping the scales at a little over 500lbs though, this is not unexpected, and they certainly haul the big Le Mans down from speed with little drama.

Another joy on the original Le Mans was the low bars and heavy throttle action and, in an attempt to combat the problem, it had a throttle lock screw that helped out on long journeys. Not so the modern version; with the bars comfortably above the triple clamps, and the throttle needing little more than light breeze to send it in to action; the four hour ride home produced no aches and pains from the 20-year older wrists. My backside and worn out knees appreciated the more comfortable seat and lower foot pegs, also. Not to say there was anything wrong with the original vinyl covered plank used on the old Le Mans, it was just not in the Corbin-comfort league for long distances.