What it is:

Kawasaki‘s immortal Z1 engine, bored-out, in a variety of tweaked and restyled guises. Early models were slower than the 900s; later examples were faster. Not as desirable as a Z1/900, but benefits from a much improved chassis and brakes. Far, far cheaper too.

Others in its family tree:

Original Z1/900. The MKII Z1000 was slab-sided, pokier and available with chain or shaft drive. Z1-R was the sporty off-shoot. J models were designed for proddie racing, but can be unreliable. Several hideous custom/cruiser variants saw the light of day too.

It’s good because:

Unrivalled pedigree, still commands respect, incredibly strong, excellent parts back-up.

It’s bad because:

Z purists sneer and ask why you didn’t buy a Z1.

Other Alternatives:

Absolutely nothing else has the Big Zed’s reputation, but a Suzuki GS-1000 is actually a better bike

What it is:

Sporty Z1000 with more power, slab-sided styling, bikini fairing and four-into-one exhaust. Never that popular because of its distinctive looks and tiny fuel tank (bigger 3.5 gallon option appeared on later models). Handles little better than a stock Z1000.

Others in its family tree:

Essentially every Z-prefixed four-cylinder Kawasaki. The maddest and baldest of them all was the semi-official turbo­charged Z1-R. Made and sold in the US only, it made a claimed 145bhp, whistled past 150mph with ease and handled like a hinge. Bonkers.

It’s good because:

It looks good – really good – and it’s a Big Z, of course.

It’s bad because:

The front brakes are abysmal (there’s a cable link from brake lever to master cylinder!).

Other Alternatives:

Z1000/1100R Eddie Lawson Replica teas Kawasaki‘s subsequent attempt at the same thing. Much better in every department.

The bike’s builder, Norton specialist Mick Hemmings, tickled the MK1 Concentrics, switched on the ignition, and with the machine on the main stand gave it a measured forceful swing. Result? Silence.

For the second attempt Mick depressed the kick start lever close to horizontal before starting his swing. He reckons that this technique reduces the possibility of kickback. But there was still no hint of cooperation from the engine.

A third swing. RUMBAAAAaaa! The mighty parallel twin burst into life with that snarling, powerful soul-stirring blast that peashooter ‘silenced’ Commandos emit, rattling the workshop windows and  provoking a satisfied grin from Mick. It sounded as healthy and as powerful as any road-going British twin can.

A few days later, and with the bike now in possession of a MoT certificate, I was back at the Hemmings’ workshop for the eagerly awaited road test. Mick had ridden the bike across town to get the MoT, but to be its first run on the open road.

The Commando was wheeled out of the workshop, the carburetors tickled, and  this time it fired first kick under Hemmings‘ right leg. Impressive.

The sound of the Norton brought building workers out of nearby site doorways to savour the noise and watch Mick make some adjustments to improve the idle.

The sun was shining and I was looking forward to a relatively restrained ride at running-in speeds on some of my favorite Northampton shire back roads.

Fortunately Mick had other ideas. “Don’t be afraid to give it a decent thrashing,” he confidently grinned as I climbed aboard. With the prospect of a pleasant dawdle turning into a full blooded burn-up I wasn’t about to argue with him.

Wide and handsome thanks to its western- style bars, this example isn’t too high because

it’s fitted with a cut down seat that was originally used on a production race bike. The low seat height suited me and I was able to settle in fairly quickly to deal with Northampton town traffic.

The diaphragm spring clutch gives a relatively light and smooth action — a real improvement over previous Norton twins — and the gearbox changed faultlessly. It felt like a new bike, which in effect it is.

Out on the open road the true benefit of the Commando with its rubber-cushioned engine was apparent. Vibration all but isolated thanks to the Isolastic mountings, the Commando could be cruised at any sensible speed in comfort.

I soon discovered that Mick’s confidence in the freshly built motor was well founded. The engine was willing to rev and it gave no hint of protest. Obviously I wouldn’t ride a new engine flat out, and there were no plans for speed testing. But this was an opportunity to sample the torque and power of the vertical twin without revving it too hard.

At high cruising speeds the wide bars are hard work. And at speed Commandos have a tendency to feel slightly light at the front with a disposition to oscillate at the steering head. This bike was no exception, despite it being on modern Avon tyres.

The buyer of this machine has specified an 18in rear rim rather than the standard 19M item to allow a wider tyre choice. Mick argues that steering is best with 19in rims sharpness; the modern rubber does give confidence in corners and under braking. Because the Commando has real presence and because it makes such a glorious noise, you find yourself getting rather carried away. But with those wide bars it becomes wearing pulling against the wind and you eventually find yourself easing back… until you get bored that is, and off you go with another burst of speed! The customer has asked for lower bars to be fitted, and various other detail changes, before he takes delivery.

Ninety miles later I was back at flick’s Northampton workshop. “How was it?” he inquired, raising an amused eyebrow when told that I’d seen 100mph on the clock. Perhaps he hadn’t expected me to take his running in advice quite so literally.

Many of us regard the Norton Commando as the most practical of the classic British vertical twins for modern traffic conditions and distance riding. And this scratch-built conglomeration of components confirms the Commando’s status as such.

Any niggles? Well, the dumpy grips are not to my taste. I also found throttle action rather gritty, the rear brake weak, and the front twin leading shoe Tickle brake good on first application but prone to fade.

But overall this 1970 Roadster is a fine machine and proof that a bike that is carefully built from parts can end up as a fantastically integrated machine.

The bike’s male-slider fork is well damped and has seven- way adjustments for rebound and compression damping, and the rear dual shocks offer five-way spring preload adjustment. On smooth terrain and riding over small road imperfections the suspension feels compliant, especially the front end with its superior fork. Bumps are very noticeable in back, though, where the short shock travel jars the rider. I noticed a slight pogo effect when going over potholes; something other testers did not experience, possibly because of their heavier weight.

The belt-driven Cruise is outfitted with Bridgestone Battlax radials, a 120/70 ZR-18 front and 180/55 ZR-17 rear, which provide stability and good grip even in light rain. Some weight savings come from the hollow-cast aluminum wheels. When you get to twisty roads the Cruise is planted and stable, both in long sweepers and tight corners. It has good low-end torque and there’s no throttle abruptness when you get on it coming out of a corner. It holds a line well, and if it weren’t for the limited cornering clearance the Cruise could keep up with some sportbikes in the twisties. UM refers to the Cruise as a power or sport cruiser, and once you ride it you can relate.

The seat is not only low at 27.75 inches, it’s also narrower than the average cruiser‘s seat, which should thrill riders with short inseams. With my 34-inch inseam, when the Cruise is parked on its sidestand I can walk up to the bike and literally step right over it and keep on walking. The long wheelbase of 65.4 inches makes it feel like a larger motorcycle when you climb aboard, and the reach to the handlebar is a stretch and the footpegs place your feet way out in front. But check this out: The footpegs are dealer adjustable (the shift rod needs to be changed) to one of two positions, and can be moved back approximately 2 inches from what you see pictured. The seat is comfortable enough that your butt will outlast your upper body and arms at highway speeds. As is typical on a cruiser, windblast hits the rider in the chest so you need to hang tightly to those handgrips at speed. We found that cruising below 75 mph was the best way to ride longer distances in comfort. (There’s also a touring version available with a National Cycle windscreen, three-piece Saddlemen detachable synthetic saddlebags, a backrest, a luggage rack, engine guards and floorboards.)

The Cruise gleams in the sunlight with its combination of chromed metal and plastic. Mirrors provide a good rear view, and though the triple disc brakes are not up to sportbike standards, they’re fine for cruising at more moderate speeds and we didn’t experience any fading or grabbing. The tank pivots up for easier engine service, and you’ll need a large Phillip’s screwdriver to remove the single bolt that holds down the one-piece seat. Our test bike did not come with a toolkit.

Our only complaint is with the Nintendo Game Boy-like LED digi­tal instrument panel that’s some­times hard to read in sunlight. The fuel gauge seems to have a mind of its own, as it takes anywhere from 2-5 miles after a fill-up before the bar graph registers full, and then it jumps around, so we rely on the tripmeter to figure out when to gas up. The Cruise does gets excellent average fuel economy at 45.7 mpg. The speedometer has a delayed reaction as well, though curiously that seems to be correcting itself—as is the light backfiring when coming off the throttle at highway speeds—as we put on more miles.

We can’t offer any assurances as to how the Cruise will hold up for the long haul; we can report that we’ve put almost 1,000 trouble-free miles on our test bike, and we’re impressed with its handling and rider friendli­ness. Probably the biggest challenge UM faces is convincing those who are skeptical about investing in a relatively unknown product that it’s reliable, so the company has tossed in a three-year, 15,000-mile transferable warranty. The $6,399 price tag makes it competitively priced as well. Note: The Cruise tested here is a 2007 model; for 2008 the only change will be color choices: silver, black or bur­gundy. Our test unit came with a Hyosung instrument cover; apparently, late-2007 models have a new one made by UM.

We tested the Carbtune Pro on several carbureted and fuel-injected motorcycles and found it worked flawlessly. The actual sync procedure is something 99 percent of motorcycle owners can easily handle, at least after the first experience. The EPA has made fuel mixtures on modern sys­tems difficult to manually manipulate; most of the screws you see are for removal, synching or idle adjustment.

Accessing the vacuum connections on our Suzuki V-Strom required removing bodywork. First synch took an hour, with most of the time for plastic R&R. Leaving vacuum hoses connected (tie-wrap and plug the ends) should reduce the next session to about 15 minutes. Morgan’s website contains links for specific sync procedures for many motorcycles. Note that the ‘Tune Pro won’t work on six- cylinder Honda Gold Wings.

The Carbtune Pro is available in two- and four-column versions. The quad offers the greatest flexibility. Morgan also offers a variety of fuel-system-related tools and accessories via its website and dealer network.

Morgan Carbtune Ltd. is located in Belfast, Northern Ireland, but don’t let the distance deter you. We ordered direct from Sean Morgan and received the ‘Tune Pro within a week, at a bargain shipping rate of about $6. The current exchange rate has increased prices of all European products, but considering that the cost of a couple of shop synching sessions pays for this $87-$112 instrument, it seems a worthwhile investment in the quest for mechanical smoothness.

KalGard clear Chain Kote is just like the original Chain Kote, but in a Clear formula, now with PTFE for additional wear life. An excellent lubricant designed especially for roller chains, the light, penetrating  lubricant reaches into rollers and pins, thickens right after application and will not be thrown off, even at racing speeds. It also lubes and protects O-rings, will not wash off in rain but can easily be removed with Kal-Gard contact cleaner.

MORE LUGGAGES FOR YOUR ULYSSES.

Three new Buell accessories include soft luggage designed specifically for 2006-later Buell XB12X Ulysses models. The new top- and side-case interior luggage is nylon pieces designed to fit perfectly within the cases. Each features a large front pocket with built-in storage organizer, a shoulder strap and carry handle for easy transport off the bike. The new Triple Tail Backpack is designed to fit securely over the Ulysses triple tail pad and doubles as a back­pack. Reflective trim increases night-time visibility and a rain cover are included.

What it is:

Sports version of Yamaha’s shaft-driven XS1100 tourer, with svelte all-black looks, revised frame geometry, better suspension, and dinky cockpit fairing. Very comfy, very fast, very heavy indeed.

Others in its family tree:

XS750/850 triples. The XS1100 was the guinea pig for Yamaha‘s turbo development prior to the technology making it onto the rather limp XJ650T.

It’s good because:

Its shaft driven, the engine’s as tough as old boots, and if you want to tour the stock 1100′s larger tank bolts straight on.

It’s bad because:

The handling really isn’t up to the job. And there’s no chrome to polish.

Other alternatives:

Suzuki GS1000/1100G or Kawasaki Z1000G if you want shaft drive, Kawasaki GPz1100B2 if you prefer chain.

What it is:

Careful copy of the Kawasaki Zl engine installed in the best big- bike chassis of the era. Murdered the Z-1000 on road and track. Can be tuned to produce monster power with little loss of longevity.

Others in its family tree:

Developed from the GS750. S model got two-tone paint and dinky BMW-esque cockpit fairing. G model was the hefty shaft- drive tourer. GS850 was only available as shaft drive and is (a bit) lighter and more manageable than the 1000G.

It’s good because:

You’ve got a reasonable chance of coming out of a fast corner on the correct side of the road. Good reliability, too.

It’s bad because:

If you want an air-cooled big-cube Suzuki the GSX1100 is better. The GS’s charging system isn’t up to much either.

Other Alternatives:

GS850G if you want the shaft drive, GSX1100 otherwise.

The passenger sits in a true lap of luxury, ensconced against a backrest that’s equipped with wraparound arm­rests and built-in speaker’s—the volume control is on the side. The rear seat is as comfy as the rider’s portion, and the feet are placed on fold-out footboards. It all results in a spread-out, settled-in feeling. Just note that the protruding speakers inhibit the ability to carry long items that overlap the seat, such as the tent and camp chair I carried on my weekend sojourn. Your H-D dealer will cheerfully sell you a luggage rack that attaches to the TourPak lid, but lacking that I was able to position these items toward the front of the passenger- seat where they cleared the speakers. The 63.5-inch wheelbase enhances straight-line stability on the highway, where the Ultra can thrum along with the tunes pouring from the stereo speakers and the intercom system allowing the rider to easily speak with the passenger. The full-featured cruise control holds speeds steady across hills and valleys, and can be fine tuned by nudging the thumb control.

With rake/trail figures of a relatively steep 26 degrees combined with a laid-back 6.2 inches, the Glide offers a sat­isfying blend of surprisingly light, quick steering for a 850- pound motorcycle, with stability. It becomes fun to hustle down a twisty road until it runs smack up against the bane of most Harleys—lack of cornering clearance. Way too soon the side-stand and footboards begin to drag, and cooler heads need prevail; the Glide forces the rider to remain with­in its cornering limitations or suffer the consequences. With its three four-piston brake calipers, the days of having to immediately upgrade your Harley brakes are over. Now with the addition of optional anti-lock brakes, things get even better. Head for that patch of gravel across the road, keep the bike upright and nail the brakes. You’ll feel the initial deceleration, a sudden pulsing in the brake lever and pedal as the brakes momentarily release and by contrast the bike almost seems to accelerate across the gravel patch, then immediate reapplication of the brakes and deceleration. All you need to do is maintain pressure on the brakes and the bike does the rest; ABS can save your hog’s bacon (as long as you’re upright rather than leaned over in a corner).

The FLH has an air-adjustable rear suspension, and Harley calls for no additional air pressure for a solo rider of up to 150 pounds, on up to 20-25 psi for a big rider and 200-pound passenger. Air pressure in the system acts as a spring, and the rear suspension is adequately damped. My only comment is that I wished for greater damping in the non-adjustable fork, which moved too readily for my tastes. With the 9.2:1 compression ratio you’ll run 91-octane (premium) fuel in your Big Twin. Another notable change this year is that fuel capacity has been increased from 5.0 to 6.0 gallons, yet the tank still has a clean look. The 38.4 mpg I recorded during my solo, mostly highway time on cruise control was a bit disappointing, and translates to a range of about 230 miles.

Some riders have a tendency to dismiss Harley- Davidson’s air-cooled twins as antiquated dinosaurs, as overpriced bikes that don’t measure up in terms of tech­nology. Granted, that was true a number of years ago, and today their power and smoothness do not match that of the multi-cylinder bikes. However, considering that the Ultra is a toured intended for comfort, luggage carrying and a sat­isfying ride, the new, better one reminds us not only how far Harley-Davidson has come, but that it’s still moving onward and upward.

What it is:

Sleeker styled version of Suzuki‘s first big 16-valve plain-bearing four, the GSX1100. Unrivalled combination of power, torque, comfort and handling. An automatic choice for production and drag racers alike because the engine can be tuned and tuned.

Others in its family tree:

The 1100 was also available with small cockpit fairing, full fairing, and in Katana trim as an 1100 and a rare 1000.

It’s good because:

It’s very powerful very strong, was around for ages so parts availability is good, and is easily tuned. Lighter than some, too.

It’s bad because:

The electrics are rubbish. And it’s one of the ugliest things to roll off a production line. Ever.

Other alternatives:

Kawasaki GPz1100, if you throw away its fuel injection system. Buy a Honda CB1.100R if you want something for the track.

In 1984, features such as Elastomer rubber engine mounting and fully enclosed chain final drive were recent innovations, and the 80-cubic-inch Evolution engine (the one that was to save Harley-Davidson from extinction) had just been introduced. In the intervening years the entire Harley line has gone to belt final drive and electronic fuel injection. The Electra Glide’s fairing has been improved and updated. There’s now a full sound system. The saddlebag lids are now attached and can no longer be lost, the brakes now have four-piston rather than single-piston calipers, and fairing lowers are standard on the Ultra. And in case you feared that the rate of change had slowed in recent years, for 2007 the E-Glide was given the new Cruise Drive six- speed transmission (which debuted on other models the previous year), and the Twin Cam 88-inch engine was upgraded to 96 cubic inches. This was accomplished by leaving the bore intact, but adding almost 10mm to the stroke. For 2008 fuel capacity has grown by one gallon, and various models (including the Ultra) are available with anti- lock brakes. It just goes to show that the rate of change has actually increased in recent years.

That 96-inch motor (1,584cc) offers a bore and stroke of 95.25 x 111.25mm, figures that indicate a torquey stroker rather than a revver. Sure, it’s still air-cooled and its valves are actuated by pushrods with hydraulic lifters that never need adjustment, but power has been tweaked in unex­pected ways. Two years ago when we tested the 2006 Ultra Classic its 88-inch Twin Cam motor produced 65 horsepower at 5,700 rpm on the Borla Performance dynamometer, and 67.4 lb-ft of torque at 3,800 rpm. Now, despite gaining 8 cubic inches of displacement, horsepower has actually fallen to 62.4 at 5,200 rpm, but torque is up to 77.8 lb-ft at 3,600 rpm. That’s a whopping 15 percent boost, and anyone who rides a Harley can confirm that torque is what it’s all about. Not only that, but the Ultra’s flat torque curve delivers more than 70 lb-ft from 2,000 on up to 4,400 rpm.

Hit the starter button, and after a loud whump from the starter damper the electronic sequential port fuel injection helps the engine fire up immediately…unless you were foolish enough to forget to pack the hands-free security fob that’s part of the optional Smart Security System. It’s a pas­sive key fob that must be within several feet of the bike or nothing will happen except the turn signals will simply flash at you angrily. When the fob is more than 8 feet away, the security system arms itself and disables the ignition. When the bike is disturbed, the signals flash; a siren alarm is optional. Should you lose the fob or leave it sitting in your garage when you ride off, you can arm or disarm the system by using the turn signal controls to enter a PIN number.

Even when cold the Glide can be ridden away immedi­ately without protest or hiccup. For the 2006 model year, peak clutch lever effort was reduced by 35 percent on Big Twins, and in ’07 touring models got a new clutch cable that resulted in a further 7 percent reduction in effort. The six- speed shifts easily, quickly and with low effort with its heel­and-toe shifter. Gone are the days when one had to pause between shifts on a Harley to allow the parts to properly align.

The Ultra is a traveling machine, which is where it excels. Vibration from the single-crankpin V-twin was tamed long ago, isolated from the rider by rubber engine mounts. The seat is one of the best I’ve ever encountered in motorcy­cling, a firm base overlaid with soft padding. Typically, I start squirming around within the first 100 miles of a ride, trying to redistribute the pressure points. However, with the Ultra took a 400-mile weekend ride and it wasn’t until late in the second day that the squirming ritual began. The seat is nar­row at the front so the rider can get the feet down at a stop, and the 30.7-inch height is reasonable. Footboards are rubber mounted so that no vibration enters there; the left one is crowded a bit by the heel-and-toe shifter. The rider sits rather upright behind a full instrument panel that includes a large speedometer and tachometer, and four smaller circular gauges that keep track of fuel supply, charging rate, oil pressure and ambient air temperature. As for entertainment, the Ultra includes a Harman/Kardon 80-watt audio system with AM/FM radio, weatherband, CB, intercom, four speakers, and there’s a power outlet for electric clothing and such. A dizzying list of audio options includes XM Radio, Bluetooth, GPS and a CD changer.

A major factor in pleasant touring is wind protection, and while that classic fairing deflects the wind it also allows a significant amount of buffeting to the rider’s helmet. You won’t be able to hear much of that wonderful audio system at speed unless you utilize helmets with speaker headsets. The Ultra Classic comes standard with a pair of lowers, leg protectors that include a small storage bin under each snap- on cover that can hold a pair of winter gloves. Each lower also incorporates a curved plastic panel that stows inside. On a cold day the rider can squat in front of the bike and rotate these panels outward on their tracks to block the wind. On warmer days they can be rotated back behind the lowers to allow for more airflow, a good thing since the larger engine now puts out more heat, especially from the rear cylinder exhaust pipe on the right. Likewise, tinted wind deflectors at the edges of the fairing can be rotated inward on warm days to direct airflow to the rider’s body. Both of these comfort items are quite effective.

What it is:

The last incarnation of the old Zl-derived engine. Hugely fast and, well, just huge. One of the earliest fuel-injected Japanese bikes. The pinnacle of big air-cooled sports bike design.

Others in its family tree:

Its roots trace back to the Zl. Original B1 model was un-faired. B2 got more torque and a cockpit fairing. The ZX model got a frame-mounted fairing, mono-shock, Star Wars styling and more power.

It’s good because:

150mph performance has never looked so cheap.

It’s bad because:

Fuel-injection gets temperamental with age (carb conversions are common). And the GPz900R is so much better.

Other alternatives:

Suzuki GSX1100EF offers the same combo of bulk and mind- bending power, but is ugly beyond belief. Honda CB1100R proddie racers are more desirable, but more expensive as a result.

Current Machine              :Suzuki GSV-R MotoGP

I started racing in ’98 and I’ve never ridden a bike older than that until today, but I really like old cars and getting the opportunity to ride the actual bike that Barry won his first 500 GP on is a real honor. I went to Barry’s house in Queensland. He had lots of his old race bikes there; it was fantastic. It’s really interesting to see how the technology has moved on.

I met Barry in ’99 and he really helped my career in 2000 and 2001. I’m really pleased that I got the offer to ride his bike; there was no way that I was going to refuse.

There are no brakes – I bet they were state of the art then – and there’s a lot of flex in the chassis. It goes from nothing to lots of power to nothing, I bet they were bloody hard to race. It’s my first time with a right foot shift and I usually ride with a road pattern gear shift. In one corner I changed up a gear when I wanted to brake. It got a bit interesting.

I have ridden two-strokes. I raced Suzuki RGV250s in 1998, but I didn’t expect this bike to be as fast as it is. The noise is very cool. Real two-stroke race bike noise. Our bikes are loud, but this is something else.

In truth this short retrospective is as much about the men in the British motorcycle industry as the machines in those years between 1936—the foundation of the Triumph Engineering Company Ltd.—and 1973, when Norton Villiers absorbed Triumph. Names like Edward Turner, Jack Sangster, Bert Hopwood, Jack Wickes—they were as important in the 1950s as Soichiro Honda and Willie G. were in the next generation.

Back in the early 1930s Sangster owned the Ariel motorcycle company. In 1936 he bought the Triumph motor­cycle business, putting his Ariel employee, Ed Turner, in charge. He gave Turner a small office and an assis­tant, designer Bert Hopwood, and an assistant’s assistant, one Jack Wickes, who as a 16-year-old in 1931 had got­ten a job at Triumph and learned to wield a nice pencil in the blueprint department. Within a year the three of them came up with the 5T Speed Twin, a 27-horsepower, 500cc vertical twin that looked lean and sporty. It got the public’s attention. Success begets suc­cess, and two years later a faster ver­sion, the 33-horsepower Tiger 100 appeared—the 100 signified the speed that the Tiger was reputed to reach.

Then the war came along, and Sangster sold the Ariel division to BSA in 1940. In 1942 Turner, a feisty fellow, got in a fight with Sangster, quit, and went to work at BSA. Only to come back the following year. The war ended and Triumph returned to the business of building motorcycles, adding the 350cc 3T to the two 500s. Then Turner got in a fight with Hopwood, who left and went to Norton, where Hopwood devel­oped another vertical twin.

Turner liked to think of his motorcycles as gentlemanly transportation, for gents who wanted power, comfort and elegance. The infa­mous sprung hub provided a little more comfort, and expanding the engine to 650cc gave more power. Sitting down with Wickes and a blank sheet of paper resulted in a nacelle covering the head­light, providing a place to put the speedometer, ammeter and ignition switch, which resulted in the 1949 Thunderbird 6T Power was apparently a secondary consideration for Turner. Yes, they had made a GP version of the 500 for a couple of years in 1947 and 1948, but Turner did not really like the racing side of the business. A do-it-yourself race kit, with the Delta dual-carb cylinder head and hot cams, was available for the T100 in 1951. That was the same year that BSA acquired the Triumph Company.

In 1956 Sangster took over the BSA group, and put Turner in charge of developing and designing Triumph, BSA and Ariel motorcycles. Are you keeping all these names straight? The U.S. market, which consumed the biggest portion of the Triumph factory‘s output, always wanted more power; it provoked the advent of the 650cc, 42- horsepower Tiger 110, soon followed by the sporty-looking TR6, having no nacelle but a separate Speedo, tach and chromed headlight. At the same time Turner and Wickes were working on a new 350, the ideal commuter bike. The TwentyOne (for cubic inches) was in the 1957 line, having a very nice unit-con­struction 350cc engine, with gearbox backed up against the crankcase, sim­plifying the primary drive. The bore was 58.25mm, stroke, 65.5mm, for 349cc and 18.5 horsepower at 6,500 rpm. But it certainly lacked any sense of sportiness, as the front fender looked like a skinny helmet, the rear wheel half hidden by the two skirted panels which looked, to the unfocused eye, like a small upside-down bath. Anyone wanting the complete package could opt for the handlebar fairing and leg shields. A very gentlemanly ride, obvi­ously thought Turner, though the derisory English moto-press was fond of referring to gents wearing skirts.

For the 1959 model year the 350 (renamed the 3TA) was bored out to 69mm, creating 490cc, and the 500 5TA Speed Twin appeared, also with the ‘tub, claiming 27 horsepower. One should not blame just Turner and Wickes for overdressing their bikes; Philip Vincent had signed his motorcycle’s death warrant with the ill-advised 1955 Series D, which had full coverage from handlebars to taillight. Under Turner’s watch the 1958 Ariel Leader was com­pletely enclosed as well. Enclosure was a buzz-word among a few misguided members of the British motorcycle industry; this was the two-wheeled ver­sion of the Austin Seven. Somebody for­got to tell them that people who wanted cars bought cars, and people who wanted motorcycles wanted sport.

The American dealers were aghast. When Coventry began putting the bath­tub on the Thunderbird and the Tiger 110, it was quickly taken off at U.S. dealers. A breath of fresh air came in 1961 when Hopwood returned to Triumph, only to find that Turner was pushing hard for the enclosed Tina motorscooter— which was a sales flop. Even the sporting T100 suffered some enclosure of the rear wheel, though to a lesser degree than the 5TA. By 1962 Sangster had resigned his BSA chair­manship, and his successor had his own ideas; Turner was well aware that he was being none-too-gracefully squeezed out, and when he retired in 1964 the skirts went with him.

This latest rendition, the Breva 1200 Sport, is proof of that, as we found out during its Arizona introduction last September. Guzzi’s 703cc V7 first appeared back in 1967, and though there is certainly nothing interchangeable with the 1200 Sport’s 1,151cc version, it remains that essential push-rod twin. The 1200 uses the same engine as is bolted into the Norge (and the Breva 1200 not exported to the United States), with an oversquare bore of 95mm; stroke, 81.2mm; stampeding some 70-plus horses at 7,500 rpm. This engine is not really a low-rpm lugger, as it thrives on modest revs, with the maximum torque of about 60 lb-ft coming on at 6,000 rpm.

The headlight comes with a sporty little cowling, giving it a semblance of aerodynamic—this is not a top-speed machine, but one intended for happy speeds. At the bottom of the engine is a chin spoiler, aesthetically pleasing and also functional as it serves to protect the oil cooler.

The footpegs are slightly rear-set, and when the rider sits down (seat height is a shade over 31 inches, and a slightly lower saddle is an option), it is a long reach over the large six-gallon gas tank to the “advanced” handlebar —that is Guzzi’s word to describe the rather wide (almost 33 inches) solid-mounted Renthal bar, which suited my long torso and arms quite well. Those with a shorter reach might scant to loosen the mounting bolts and turn the bar back 90 degrees. Two controls at the left end of the bar operate the computer on the dash, telling the rider most things that he might want to know, except which stock to buy.

The Marzocchi male-slip fork, 45mm in diameter, is adjustable for spring preload, compression and rebound damping, and has 4.7 inches of travel. The rake is 25 degrees;  trail, 4.7 inches. The fork has been coated with an anti-friction compound called Tinalox. The Sachs shock absorber has preload and rebound adjustability, the rear wheel having 5.5 inches of movement.

Wheels are 17 inches, with a 120/70 tire on the front, 180/55 on the rear. The 320mm front discs use Brembo four-piston (opposed) calipers, the rear 298mm disc has a two-piston (parallel) caliper. ABS is an /option for the Europeans, but not for Americans, as Moto Guzzi research shows that most sporting riders in this country are not interested in it.

The engine sits in a tubular-steel cradle frame, with 58.5 inches between the axles. The transmission has six speeds, with shaft final drive. Dry weight is said to be 506 pounds.

Turn the e key, push the button, fuel is injected, two spark plugs in each cylinder fire the mixture, and the engine begins its leisurely side-to-side sway, so common with the longitudinal twins. Clutch in, first gear engaged, clutch released, and I am smoothly away. I like the ergonomics and the wide: bar, making the Sport easy e, to maneuver out of the parking lot, and the saddle g, suits my butt. We settle in for some 80-mph freeway cruising out to Apache Junction, east of Phoenix, and then head off to the Apache Trail in the Tonto National Forest. Not that there is much forest out here, just rock and dirt and cactus.

I do enjoy that loping gait which all Guzzis have, not a frenetic rush to power that one feels in many higher-rewing machines. A slight vibration comes through the bar and pegs, allowing the rider to keep his or her eyes on the road, rather than the tachometer. Which, on the Sport, has no painted redline, merely a red light on the face that blinks as the engine speed approaches the rev limiter, more easily noticed on a frolicsome ride than having to focus on the needle. The Apache Trail is a superb road, two lanes of good pavement going up and down and around for many blissful miles, good Sport territory; endlessly clicking the shift lever through the gears, braking, throttling up, slowing, accelerating. The transmission is excellent, as are the brakes, and the ECU for the injectors seems right on, with no hesitations nor hiccups. The Sport seems very happy with my keeping the tach between five and seven thousand, and is intended for the leisurely rider, like myself, who likes a bit of lean, adequate power and comfort. I’m having fiin without being crouched over and bent like a pretzel.

This was an all-too-short intro, as usual, and we hope to get a proper test machine, with all the optional touring accessories like saddlebags and heated grips, in the future. Already I would say that, having ridden many Guzzi models over the past 40 years, this has a fine engine and a fine chassis. Now Guzzi has to let the riding public know about it.