Moto Guzzi V11 Le Mans
Moto Guzzi V11 Le Mans
CYCLE WORLD TEST
Finally, a Goose with legs!
BRIAN CATTERSON
GOT A JONES TO BE LONG GONE ON A GUZZI? UNLESS YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT riding one of the company’s touring cruisers, you’ve been out of luck for the past decade and a half. The storied factory on the shores of Lake Como hasn’t produced a proper sport-tourer since the 1987 SPIII. But now, thanks to a redesign of the 2000-2001 V11 Sport, there again is a bonafide long-distance mount in the company catalog. Fittingly, it bears the name of the most famous endurance race of all, the 24 Hours of Le Mans.
Okay, so maybe it’s a bit of a stretch to resurrect the Le Mans name for use on a sport-tourer. After all, previous Guzzi Le Mans models were hard-core sportbikes, with clip-on handlebars, rearset footpegs and a vestigial fairing that only shielded the rider from the windblast if he was crouched down behind it in a racing tuck.
But then again, that uncompromising riding position, combined with a narrow plank of a seat that felt as though you were straddling a picnic bench, was hardly suited to long-distance running. And while the 2002 Le Mans might not be as racy as its moniker, it is comfortable enough to ride for 24 hours, even without teammates.
Technically, the Le Mans doesn’t meet Cycle World's criteria for a sport-tourer. To do so, it would have to be equipped with hard luggage, at least as a manufacturer’s option, and for the moment, that’s not the case. But many of the accessories that fit the V11 Sport are said to also fit the Le Mans, among them the trick Tekno soft saddlebags that snap onto unobtrusive wire hangers, and the Corbin seat. And there’s more to come: Taller handlebars and, yes, hardbags are said to be under consideration.
But screw the technicalities: One ride on the Le Mans and you’ll know, this is a sport-tourer.
In upgrading the V11 Sport, the engineers’ goal was to “expand the rider’s horizons” while keeping performance intact. There’s more to it than the new fairing, though, because the Le Mans boasts a number of unseen changes.
First and foremost is a new frame, the steering head of which was moved forward 3A inch and kicked out half a degree to achieve a longer wheelbase and increased rake/trail, in the interest of improved high-speed stability. And if that’s not enough, the Le Mans retains the Sport’s adjustable Bitubo steering damper, located behind the bottom triple-clamp.
The swingarm and subframe are new, too, to accommodate a wider rear wheel and tire.
Where the Sport came equipped with a 170mm-wide tire pinched onto a narrow 4.5inch rim, the Le Mans wears a 180 on a 5.5, thereby achieving the correct tire profile. The tires also are new; they’re now Bridgestone BT020 radiais instead of Pirelli Dragons.
While the venerable aircooled, pushrod, 1064cc, 90degree V-Twin is itself unchanged, the drivetrain got a bit of a tweak in the form of a new hydraulically actuated single-plate dry clutch that replaces the twin-plate setup employed previously. So stout is this new clutch that one factory testbike was said to have made more than 200 hard
launches before starting to slip! The new clutch works in conjunction with the superb six-speed tranny that debuted on the Sport, yielding gear changes as slick as that of any Japanese machine.
But the biggest change is, of course, the framemounted half-fairing, the styling of which was the subject of some debate. More than a few onlookers muttered something about Windjammer or Pacifico, and one suggested that from the front, the small round headlight surrounded by expansive plastic reminded him of the 1984 Suzuki GSI 150ES. Not exactly a thing of beauty.
Effective, though, as I discovered after riding the Le Mans from the World Superbike races at Laguna Seca Raceway in Monterey back to the CW offices in Newport Beach. That’s a distance of 400 miles as the crow flies, but that crow would have to be pickled on Captain Morgan’s to fly as crooked as the roads I took. With all the back-and-forth, the actual mileage was closer to 600.
Even better, I was able to conduct a direct back-toback comparison by riding our long-term V11
Sport-equipped with an aftermarket Magni halffairing-up to Laguna Seca, on many of the same twisting backroads.
What’s the verdict? The engineers undeniably achieved their goal.
The seating position is definitely an improvement, as the Le Mans’ slightly higher handlebars mean you don’t have to bend over as far as on the Sport, resulting in a bar/seat/peg relationship that’s all-day-comfortable. The rotomolded plastic fuel tank (leave your magnetic tankbag at home) is reasonably narrow, so that it doesn’t splay your legs, and there’s no danger of hitting your knees on the fairing edges or the outjutting cylinder heads.
Another benefit of the new handlebars is reduced engine vibration. Where the Sport drew criticism for buzzing badly enough at low revs to put the rider’s hands to sleep, the Le Mans is much more tolerable. Credit the longer bars and heavy bar-end weights. This is not to say that the engine doesn’t vibrate, though, because the images in the fairing-mounted mirrors (whose lower inside comers are cleverly cut so as not to reflect your elbows) are still pretty fuzzy.
A couple of testers commented that the bars seemed to be at an odd angle-too flat and/or pulled back too far-and one said they made his wrists ache, possibly due to the fact that there was no wind to prop up his torso. Also, the seat, while plenty comfortable on the Sport, started to wear a bit thin on the way back from
Laguna, probably because the more upright riding position puts more weight on your backside. Lastly, the cover protecting the rear brake’s master cylinder kicks your right heel out unnaturally, so that you tend to place your arch on the peg instead of the ball of your foot. This means that when you lean far over in a right-hand comer, the first thing that touches down is your boot. On the left, the farforward kickstand decks pretty easily, after which come the neat, oval-shaped LaFranconi mufflers. But you’ve got to be going at a pretty good clip to get those down.
Speaking of cornering, like the Sport, the Le Mans tums-in with very little effort, especially compared to the Guzzis of old. Steering is as neutral as it gets; tightening your line midcomer is no problem, and applying the brilliant Brembo brakes while leaned over doesn’t cause the bike to stand up or resist turning. And while you do occasionally detect torque reactions from the longitudinal crank and shaft drive, neither is really detrimental to handling; they’re just part of the character. Which the Le Mans, like every Guzzi ever made, has in spades.
Riding the Le Mans in a southerly direction down the newly re-paved Foxen Canyon Road inland from Santa Barbara, I was reveling in its superb steering and stability, holding it wideopen through the triple-digit sweepers in the best Isle of Man TT tradition while listening to the thundering exhaust note boom off the hillsides. Positively blissful! Then all of a sudden, as the road narrowed in the shade of nearby trees, the new pavement ended, and I nearly ran off a one-lane bridge from the pounding the suspension gave me!
Yes, Foxen Canyon is a suspension tester’s nightmare, but the Guzzi
worked horribly here. The Marzocchi fork felt as though it rode too high yet bottomed excessively, while the WP shock rode too far down in its stroke, so that even little bumps were jarring. Adding a turn or two of shock-spring preload would help, particularly if you’re planning to carry a passenger, but it’s not the entire solution. More R&D, please!
In all other respects, the Le Mans works pretty much like the Sport it’s based on. Power is virtually identical, our Le Mans and the last Sport we tested both making 77 horsepower and 62 foot-pounds of torque at the rear wheel. Eschewing the rev-happy “snap” of more-modem Twins in favor of a throbbing, locomotive-like delivery, the fuel-injected Guzzi feels more Harley-Davidson than Ducati, and at least a century behind an Aprilia Mille.
Performance figures also are comparable, the Le Mans’ 12.14-second dragstrip showing barely two-tenths of a second slower than the Sport’s 11.95, largely due to its 17pound greater mass (530 lbs. dry vs. 513). Incidentally, our top-speed testing showed the Le Mans to be one of those rare machines whose speedometer doesn’t write checks its engine can’t cash, its 137-mph clocking nearly pinning its 140-mph speedo.
In the end, the Le Mans lives up to its billing as a comfortable-but-capable long-distance mount that blurs the line between sportbike and sport-tourer. Tme, that’s a departure from the Le Mans models of old, and perhaps resurrecting the Spada name would have been more appropriate. But you can’t help thinking that with new money from Aprilia’s recent buyout of the venerable old marque, Guzzi might be saving that moniker for an even more touring-oriented model-say, something to go up against BMW’s RI 150RT. If the Le Mans is any indication, there’s life left in the old dog yet. And it might not be too late to teach it a new trick.
MOTO GUZZI LE MANS
$12,690
