nto'the epoch'with aOuzzi Le MansFOR THE Italians !'epoca means the1950s. It was a period of considerableindustrial fortune based on the plentifullabour of the south, quiescent unions anda natural design intuitiveness of theItalian industrialist. L 'epoca lasted fromabout 1951 until 1963 as far as motor-cycles were concerned, but extended inother industries for longer or shorterperiods. For instance, Pininfarina's DinoFerrari of 1965 is a reasonable bench-mark for the end of 'classic' Italian cars,although some might add Zagato's AlfaJunior of '68.During the fifties Italian factories

developed innovative answers to theproblems of valve gear, engine castings,suspension and brakes. But, most impor-tantly, they paid attention to the shape,or style, of the complete machine. Todaymotorcycles have moved on. Exoticdesigns are commonplace and inexpen-sive, and thus disposable - and perhapsthey should be.But over the years the Italians, while

pursuing the new angle of multi-cylinderte_chnology, have occasionally relapsed.Then a rare touch of genius has drawn upa design so obviously of 'the epoch' that itbecomes positively embarrassing to lookat. The latest example is the 500ccMontjuic dohc production racer fromLaverda. Before that they built the SFC,and at about the same time Ducati gavedeliverance to the astonishing 750 SS.

These were really racers, wolves illsheep's clothing, but just to one side andnot far away in performance was theMoto Guzzi Le Mans 850 Mk 1. Thismachine looked as though someone hadseen it in a dream. It was barely able tostand still without appearing like agreyhound on a tight leash, and yet itnever really reached its ultimate. It wasquickly tourer-ized, and in America hadair filters and a soft saddle added. Somepeople were lucky enough to buy theproduction racer version, but even thisdidn't really match the visual explosion ofthe original Le Mans racers from 1971-72.It became clear to me as I rode my own

Le Mans that, on another level" itresembled greatly the Guzzi FalconeSport that I also owned. It plodded, yetgave a surge of speed backed up by thatmechanical dinosaur, the flywheel. Itwheezed constantly through open car-burettors, had a slick, if clunky, gearboxand a frame of unerring accuracy oncorners. It was heavy perhaps, althoughspritely and reliable, too. But the moststriking similarity with the Falcone wasthe shape - the design or style of the34

Patrick Uden reworks his Mk I Le Mans in a search for theessence of Italian motorcycle design.

The beast that lurked within the standard 850 Le Mans is revealed in aU its glory.

machine. Their two silhouettes were notidentical, but clearly of the same seed.Last summer, after a crash wrecked the

front and one side of my Le Mans, Idecided to experiment on this hunch thatunderneath the bike lurked a morepotent and more visually exciting device.My machine was blue, an early one.There was a mere 3,000 miles on theclock in 1980 when a car turned in frontof us. Five stitches fixed me, but 750from his insurance company and a 1,000of my own money turned a machine intoa jewel that I believe reveals !'epoca fromwithin the Le Mans.It took a day of careful dismantling,

logging and boxing to reduce the Guzzi'sunscathed components to labelledanonymity. Junked were the front forks,one slider, the front wheel and tyre, arocker box and the silencer system. Theframe was unbent, and all the cycle partsescaped damage apart from the cupolafairing which was repaired. I cut all theunnecessary tabs off the frame includingthe hopeless sidestand unit.The frame was then taken to Heston

Spray Company for a solid coat of epoxyblack. The rear swinging arm and drive-shaft tunnel were done in epoxy PostOffice red, as were the two front forksliders. The new fork slider had beenbought from John Blanchard Motorcyclestogether with a pair of Tomaselli bars toreplace the crude Guzzi originals. Thetank went to George Grou in Islington tohave its badge 'dents' removed and filled.They also cut a hole for the Shaw filler

Fork sliders were sprayed red.

cap that was to be fitted into the top. Abreather was added at the front of thetank to take a rubber tube. Then thetank, side panels, mudguards, repairedfairing and seatpan were sent to HestonSpray for a cellulose Post Office redgloss.The new wheel was ordered from Jack

Lilley, together with a production racinggearbox, Imola pipes, a racing cam, newrocker cover, two 40mm carburettors, adeep sump and a new saddle in stitchedplastic. This last item was then given toGraham Keeley at last year's motorcycleshow to be covered in best hide and suedeat his factory in Worksop. He mailed itback about six weeks later, and what abeautiful job it was.It took about an hour and a half to

drop the racing cam into the engine. By

Inspiration came from the Falcone Sport seen in the background, a product of l'epoca.

Motorcycle electrical systems arealways daunting, particularly modernones, and the Le Mans' is no exception. Itis compiled from a variety of componentswhich, at a glance, seem to have comefrom a range of obsolete Italian cars. Therectifier and the starter motor are Ger-man, but the wires that join them to therest of the harness change colour atuneven (and unexpected) intervals sothat, for instance, where the service man-ual says the purple wire goes to thestarter solenoid it actually goes to theneutral selector nearby. A red wire (logi-cally enough) goes to the solenoid._Despite this, the harness is not at allbadly made, and can be unplugged sothat it breaks down into three mainchunks. I had decided that indicatorswere not of 'the epoch', so this entiresection of harness was stripped out andjunked, along with the indicators them-selves and their switch mechanism. Ifound other redundant wires in the sys-tem as well- probably from the Convertmodel, or perhaps to fill some foreignspecification. These were also strippedout.One electrical feature that I really

hated on the Le Mans was the taillight. Itis about the size of a pocket taperecorder, with reflectors, bulbs and wiresoccupying about a fifth of the total space.The rest is pure indulgent styling of theworst nasty plastic modern Italian type.But while dithering around the motor-cycle show last year I spotted a littleItalian trail bike tail lamp. It appeared to

Rear light comes from an Italian trailbike.

standing the engine, less gearbox, on theflywheel, and after removing the timinggears and so on, it is quite easy to jigglethe cam into its bearings without remov-ing the pushrods, cam followers andcylinders. The racing gearboxes come intwo sets of ratios, a short-circuit set and along-circuit cluster of the 'slip it in first orstall' variety. I opted for the shorterratios in the hope that I might at least beable to get out of second before breakingthe law. It took me three goes to geteverything right in the gearbox. The thirdtry had to be undertaken after I hadreassembled the bike when oil started todrip from the clutch housing owing to anicked oil seal. The whole bike had to bestripped to fix it, so one useful tip I canpass on is to always fill the gearbox beforeyou install it into the frame.

have the same curvature to its base as therear mudguard of the Guzzi. It had brakeand rear light terminals so it would, Ithought, be legal and unobtrusive. Any-way, for 2.50 I could afford to make amistake. It fitted and works surprisinglywell.The odd thing about modern Italian

stylists is their obsession with the hardedge. Giving motorcycles hard corners is,if you stop to consider it, a rather daftidea. A motorcycle is supposed to fit thehuman form. Sharp edges get scuffedeasily and dig into shins, bottoms andelbows. The Italians, and now the Japan-ese, have become obsessed by these'lines' that run, dart-like, from everycorner of the machine over saddle, tank,panel and fairing as though the bike'sfunction depended on them.

It doesn't. In fact the opposite is true.Ironically, the Le Mans has a bit of bothstyling schools. The frame itself is alegitimate straight-tube affair with nocurves at all. Like the frame, the tank is adirect descendent of the 750 Sport modelsfrom 1971, with functional curves builtinto its form for knees. The standardrubber saddle is a pure anatomical fan-tasy - hard, sharp and slippery. But ithas one super feature. The way it foldsover the rear of the tank is a simple touchof genius from both the functional andaesthetic points of view.The original cupola, or, as the Ameri-

cans call it, 'bikini' fairing, is pure fifties- round, smooth, tight-fitting and well-built, with not a hard edge in sight. The

35

mudguards are, alas, of the 'threepenny-bit' late seventies hard-edged style, butwith an endearing softness at the tipswhich saves them from complete ugli-ness.Finally, the plastic side panels. These

are made from a totally different materialto the rest of the machine, a sort of poor-quality stiff polythene with metal tabs onthe inside to clip them to the frame. I satand looked at these items for some time,trying to fathom out why they jarred sobadly with my sense of function. Overallthey did a pretty good. job of protectingthe electrics and battery, but the way thecarburettors hid behind them to gulp airfrom within the dark recesses of theframe didn't reflect the machine's image.The fluted mouldings on the panelsseemed to suggest that something wasgoing on inside, so I decided to fretsawthe flutes out and reveal the 'gulped-air'idea to the outside world. I think it workswell, restoring the functional appearanceof these parts and emphasising the 40mmcarburettors with their 'works' BMWbellmouths.Guzzi's love affair with matt black

paint is used to full effect on the LeMans, sharpening the lines hiding thecurve of the tank and giving unity to ahybrid of components that clearly leanback into the past rather than forwardinto the seventies. My choice of redcellulose tipped the scales back into thefifties, and now the machine has a leanintegrity, which does not come fromstyling but from each component beingclearly delineated, its function clear andunsullied by matt paint or stick-on pin-stripes.I admit that the Shaw aircraft filler-cap

on the tank is definitely not of the. fifties,or even Italian, but somehow it works asa feature, reflecting perhaps the busynature of Guzzi racer tanks like thosefitted to the 1948 250cc Albatros or theDondolino 500 of the early fifties. Any-way, I like it.The application of the original Guzzi

logo on this tank was unquestionablycorrect in my opinion. In my eyes, thosebas-relief badges so beloved of the carindustry and the Japanese have no placeon a motorcycle. In their purest statemotorcycles are motorised bicycles, andshould retain their affinity to this func-tional form. Bicycles use transfers ..A.ndlacquer to proclaim their origin, and soshould motorcycles.Guzzi's pushrod V-twin engine started

life in 1960, and has been developed intothe aggressive yet reliable unit that haspowered all the factory's big bikes sincethe demise of the Nuovo Falcone in 1976.My engine remains standard apart fromthe race earn and widened exhaust andintake ports to take the Imola pipes and40mm carburettors. The difference toperformance, aided by Lucas Rita igni-tion, is stunning. There remains thesteam-engine torque so distinctive inthese big V-twins, but added is a top endof sheer roaring gallop that just singsItaly.36

Over 120 worth of Aeroquip hosingkeeps all the oil in the engine at thesespeeds, something that wasn't possiblewith the original rubber tubes thatsweated oil at the first sight of an ignitionkey. These steel-braided hoses do thesame for the brakes, and contribute tothe appearance of the machine by reflect-ing light rather than absorbing it, as theoriginal fat, black tubes did.Presumably the rudimentary baffle

screwed onto the end of the Imolaexhaust system is intended to do a similarjob to the Brooklands can by offeringscrutineers a silencer in all but function.These pipes make a rather pleasant bel-low most of the time, but when theengine is 'on. cam' or the overrun adistinctive crackle and whistle reveals theLe Mans' racer heritage. To look at, thepipes might be homemade (perhaps theyare in Italy). The seams are crudelybrazed, but the fit is snug. The wholeeffect is one of rough-edged sophistica-tion, which counterbalances the trim per-fection of the Marzocchi rear suspensionunits and the dull casting of the final driverather well.Recently the Japanese have caught on

to the aesthetic appeal of aluminiumfootpeg assemblies, but to my mind theyhave once again prostituted a good detailand turned it into a cheap gimmick. Theirunits often do no more than hide anappalling junction of tubes and gussets,having about as much to do with functionas those pressed-tin covers that Triumphadd to Bonneville brake calipers. Beforethe crash that heralded the beginning ofthis crusade to discover the real Le Mans,I had already fitted the magnesium foot-rest brackets and alloy pegs seen in thephotos. I'd bought them in Milan whenon business, but they were destroyed inthe crash.To my surprise, Bernie's Spares and

Repairs had them at the motorcycle showat the same price that I'd paid in Italy. Byusing the footpeg ends from my originalset I was able to make an occasional(very) set of pillion pegs and fix theexhaust pipes at the same time. Thisformed a neat solution, and maintained aconstant style throughout the bottom halfof the machine.On most of the aluminium components

I applied paint stripper to remove yetmore matt-black paint. This paint obvi-ously performed a weather proofing role,but disguised the true beauty of thecastings, the best being the rear brakeplate, which had really super cast-in ribsfor strength and lightness. I did the sameto the footpeg bracket and to the forkyokes. Now only the frame is black - asit should be.

No doubt someone will see my modifi-cations to the Le Mans as the destructionof a classic, but I will have to disagree. Inmy view, elements of industrial designoften get lost in fashion, and this is clearlydifferent from fashion high-lightingindustrial design. The demands ofrational production methods andeconomy of materials will inevitably leadto the demise of man's inter-reaction withthe machines he builds. At Mandellotoday, Guzzis are still built by hand, or atleast the men that make them can see thefinished machines not a stone's throwfrom where the components come in. It'sa production line of sorts.More important is the pressure on

companies like Moto Guzzi to make theirmachines look as though they were madeby machines, even when they are not.They are constantly amending theirdesigns to fall into line with the big boys.They sometimes forget that they have thegreatest attribute of the lot, and that itstill lives in their machines, tucked awayunder the paint and pin-stripes, sharpstyling and gilded names. It's calledl'epoca, and the Germans, the British andthe Japanese never had it.

PARTS AND SERVICEGeorge Grou and Sons, 341 Goswell Rd,London EC1.Motoso (Graham Keeley), Unit 4,Tee, Worksop, Notts.Heston Spray Co, 307 NorwoodRd,Heston nr Hounslow, Middlesex.Jack Lilley Ltd, 109-111 High St,Shepperton, Middlesex.John Blanchard Motorcycles, 156 WellHall Rd, Ehham, London SE9.Bernie's Spares 'n' Repairs, 52Woodford Rd, Watford, Herts WD11PA.