Cafe Racers Archives - CARS // MOTORBIKES

Ducati Pantah 600

The Ducati Pantah was available in both 500 and 600cc forms. It was a technical stepping-stone for the Bologna marque. The 500 was launched in ’79. The 600 appeared in ’81. They would be an important blueprint for future development. As such, they ushered in more prosperous times for Ducati. When they were released, the firm was a little down at heel, financially.

Not that you had have known it by looking at the bikes. Fabio Taglioni made certain of that. One of the most esteemed engineers in motorcycle history, he had worked on the Ducati 500 V-twin GP bike. That was at the start of the Seventies. The machine’s claim to fame was its toothed overhead cam belts. Taglioni now re-visited them – inserting appropriately detuned versions into the cylinder heads of the new Pantahs. They were smooth, reliable – and easy on the ear. Rightly, they allowed the V-twin exhaust set-up to assume aural centre stage. The rubber belts were cheap to manufacture, too. That was a boon to Ducati – who were keen to keep the price of the new bikes as competitive as possible.

Taglioni’s delicate touch reached other areas, too. The Pantah’s tubular steel trellis frame – and sensitive suspension – synced up to deliver steady as a rock handling. Its brakes came out of the top drawer, too. Brembo and Marzocchi had been sourced for the second to none cycle parts. Power output was impressive – without being awe-inspiring. The 600 made 58bhp – up from the 500’s 52. However, those modest stats were aided by light weight. 415lb was all the 600 was shifting. As a result, 120mph was only just out of reach. And the shortfall was more than made up by the way it got to that speed. Surging acceleration had long been a Ducati hallmark. When the engineering excellence was aligned with typically Italianate styling, the Pantahs were on a sure road to success. A curvaceous half-fairing – and racy removable seat – lent poise and purpose to both front and rear ends. Ducati’s dynamic duo had done their work well. In the wake of the Pantahs – both 500 and 600 – the firm was set fair to weather future economic squalls.

Matchless G50

The Matchless G50 had a lot to live up to. To name your new company ‘Matchless’ means confidence in its products – to put it mildly! That was something Charlie and Harry Collier clearly had, when they opened for business in 1899. They were located in Plumstead, south-east London. Both brothers were racers – of some repute. In 1907, Charlie rode a Matchless to victory at the first TT – in the single-cylinder category. Harry performed the same feat two years later. At the time, then, the Matchless moniker was pretty much justified.

Fast-forward to the Sixties – and Matchless were dominant again. Now, it was the turn of the G50 to hold all-comers at bay. First unveiled in the late ’50s, the Matchless G50 was – to all intents and purposes – an AJS 7R, re-badged. Matchless had acquired AJS, in 1931.

More proof of confidence within Matchless can be found in its logo. It takes some hutzpah to rely on a single letter to get your marketing message across. Charlie and Harry, though, clearly felt that a winged ‘M’ was more than enough to identify a motorcycle as a Matchless. There is a fine line, of course, between self-belief and hubris. The former is a prerequisite for success – the latter, an almost cast-iron guarantee of failure. However, it would seem that the two young Londoners got the balance spot-on. After all, Matchless motorcycles began winning races at the turn of the 20th century. And – at classic bike events, at least – they are still there or thereabouts in a new millennium!

Laverda Montjuïc Mk2

When you bought a Laverda Montjuïc Mk2, you got what it said on the tin. Well, on the side-panel, at any rate. Montjuïc Park was a mountain-based motor racing circuit in Barcelona, Spain. A street circuit, that is. Which told you most of what you needed to know about the machine you had just acquired. Conceptually, it modelled the Formula bikes Laverda built for their single-make race series.

Unfortunately, the racing concept was not entirely realised in the roadster. Laverda had enjoyed substantial success at Montjuïc – not least because of the sure-footed handling of their bikes. And – in terms of agility – the Mk2 came close to emulating the track tool’s prowess. That was mainly due to its light weight, tubular-steel frame and Marzocchi suspension. Likewise, Brembo disc brakes helped replicate the racer’s stop-on-a-sixpence precision. Even the high-speed weave – which had plagued the Montjuïc Mk1 – had been seen off by the Mk2’s frame-mounted fairing.

What took the edge off the new Montjuïc was its speed – or lack thereof. As mentioned, the Mk2’s manoeuvrability was razor-sharp. Straight-line speed – not so much. Throttle to the stop, the needle hovered around the 110mph mark. Whilst that was adequate, it hardly set the world alight. Though an ear-splitting exhaust note did what it could to redress the balance. To be fair, the Mk2 was powered by a 497cc parallel twin motor. Hardly cutting edge. Indeed, it ran without air-filtering – which may, in fact, have sped things up a bit! For all that, its racer’s crouch riding position signalled the Mk2’s intent. And the Montjuïc’s high price tag seemed to promise lots of whizz for your lire. Anyway, its relative lack of power was offset by other virtues. It looked Laverda lovely, standing still. And the lines it carved through corners would have made Michelangelo weep. Just that pesky top speed stat let the side down a tad. Other than that, the Montjuïc Mk2 made hay in the Spanish sunshine. Before flying back to Breganze, Italy … at 110mph!

Ducati Dharma SD 900

The Ducati Dharma SD 900 was a fine – if flawed – motorcycle. Certainly, there was plenty in its plus column. Performance, handling and styling all passed muster – and more. In the excitement stakes, the SD scored heavily. Only in practicality terms did it fall short. And yes, superbike fans, it does matter!

Looks-wise, the Sport Desmo was on solid ground. That was thanks to the revered visual skills of Italjet. The agency was run by Leo Tartarini. In the past, he had been a Ducati race rider. Tartarini now brought his innate Italian design skills to the table. For the Dharma, he drafted a sweeping swathe of tank, seat and tail. The 864cc V-twin engine looked good from any angle. Smart Conti pipes – and neatly-forged wheels – set off the SD’s sartorial swagger.

Technically, too, the Dharma delivered. Admittedly, it was not the pokiest bike on the block. Still, its 60bhp output turned in a top whack of 115mph. Mere mortals were happy with that! The Ducati’s bevel-driven valvetrain kept it all taut. Real-world speeds were a doddle for the Dharma. Ducatis had long been renowned for their handling. The SD’s firm, but flexible frame, sweetly-tuned suspension and responsive brakes were stability to a tee. Long but lively journeys, then, should have been a gimme. Too often, though, gremlins grabbed the reins. To put it bluntly, Ducati build quality was not the best. Electrics could be especially trying – given wet enough weather. No matter how beautiful a bike, standing looking at it in a downpour does not show it in its best light! And peeling paint and chrome – while less of a pressing issue – in time likewise tested owners’ patience. In so many ways, the Ducati Dharma SD 900 was a two-wheeled delight. Good to have a garage/lock-up at your disposal, though. Annoying little problems always need sorting in the end!

MV Agusta 850 Magni

In standard trim, the MV Agusta 850 was a class act. Add to that the Magni factor – and quality increased exponentially. Arturo Magni had managed MV’s racing department. MV took 17 consecutive 500cc World Championships. That told you all you needed to know about what Arturo Magni brought to a two-wheeled party!

In time, Magni turned his attention to roadsters. To that end, he set up his own engineering facility – in Gallarate, Italy. Soon, a steady stream of MV 850s started rolling into his workshop. They did not have far to come. Magni duly introduced them to his own take on engine components and chassis modifications. The Magni effect was marked. A top speed of 140mph was now available. The 850 was weighed down by a bulky shaft final drive. When Magni’s chain-drive conversion kit had been fitted, handling, too, improved. Also key to stability was Magni’s custom-built frame. The single spine original had been replaced by one with two top tubes. Magni’s motor-related mods included uprated cams, high-compression pistons and a four-piece exhaust system. Suffice to say, you could hear it coming a mile away!

The 850 Magni was visibly race-bred. A full fairing – complete with rider number – said it all. The Magni’s stats justified its looks. High-grade parts – from Marzocchi, Koni and Brembo – added further fuel to the performance fire. Arturo Magni – following on from his high-calibre racing exploits – had slipped seamlessly into the world of road-oriented specials. High price tags came with the territory. But – for those with the disposable – MV Agusta’s 850 Magni was the pinnacle of hand-built pedigree!

Laverda 750 SFC

The Laverda 750 SFC was a production racer. Originally conceived to compete in endurance races, it went on to be a shining light on the roads as well. The ‘C’ in its name stood for competizione. And, while we are at it, the ‘F’ stood for freni – Italian for brakes. That referenced the improved drum sets, with which the SFC came equipped. Ceriani suspension sealed the roadholding deal – telescopic forks at the front and twin shocks at the rear. Always a good sign, the SFC won first time out. That was the Barcelona 24 Hours race – at Montjuic Park, Spain. The bike’s bright orange paintwork was a cinch to spot, even at night – for both spectators and pit crew alike!

On the road, too, the SFC was a scintillating sight. 549 SFCs followed on from the prototype. A certain commitment was required of the rider – since they were far from ‘ergonomically correct’. Low clip-on handlebars – and rear-set footrests – meant relaxation took a back seat to a racing crouch. And it was a single back seat, at that! At least the SFC’s smart half-fairing was a concession to comfort – keeping the worst of the wind off. And – certainly in handling terms – the SFC was eminently user-friendly.

Potentially, SFC riders needed all the handling help they could get. The bike’s parallel twin engine came with high-compression pistons – fueled by 36mm Amal carbs. A close-ratio 5-speed gearbox was fitted. Top speed was 125mph. An injudicious twist of the the SFC’s throttle, then, and a race-style posture may well have proved welcome. Better a little discomfort than finding yourself lying upside down. The SFC weighed in at just 454lb – but that is a lot to pull out of a ditch! So, the Laverda 750 SFC was a true Seventies superbike. It combined impeccable Italian styling – and the technical wherewithal to keep it that way. Hopefully!

Dresda Triton

It has doubtless been discussed – in refreshment rooms around the world – which is the greatest café racer ever made. Dave Degens could be forgiven for making the case for the Dresda Triton. His company – Dresda Autos – was based in west London. As well as a race engineer, Degens was a rider of high repute. It followed, then, that he would be on the lookout for high-performance tips and techniques. A logical way to go, in that regard, would be to take a well-sorted motor – and install it in an equally well-sorted chassis. Which is exactly what Degens did. Indeed, since the mid-’50s, two-wheeled tech-heads had been bolting Triumph engines into Norton frames. The hybrid fruits of their labour were dubbed Tritons. Triumph’s powerplants were the most potent around, at the time. And Norton’s Featherbed frame rewrote the rulebook when it came to firm, but flexible geometry.

In the mid-’60s, Triumph’s parallel-twin engine layout was cutting edge. The 650 unit was kicking out 50bhp – at 6,500rpm. Top speed was 120mph. Do the caff racer math, and that exceeded ‘ton-up boy’ requirements – to the tune of 20%! And all from an air-cooled four-valve twin. But – as Dave Degens knew only too well – horsepower is only half the equation. Handling, too, needs to be factored in. Cometh the hour, cometh the Featherbed! Norton’s steel twin-cradle frame had excelled on both road and track. Norton’s TT rivals could vouch for that! Put it all together – and Triumph engine, plus Norton frame – equalled fast and fluid motorcyling.

By the end of the Sixties, the Triton ‘brand’ had gone beyond its geeky beginnings. The dream ticket – courtesy of Triumph and Norton – now ate a substantial slice of the Brit bike pie. But, ‘mass-production’ for the Triton held a sting in its tail. Downmarket, if not dodgy deals increased – both in parts and build quality. Of course, Dresda Autos – with Dave Degens at the helm – never lowered its standards. Even now – decades later – they provide bespoke bikes to discerning buyers. A legend in the specialist motorcycle world, then, the Dresda Triton took on – and beat – all comers!

MV Agusta 850SS Monza

Bikes named after racetracks need to be fast! In the case of the MV Agusta 850SS Monza, it was. Top speed was 145mph. That was quick for a road bike, in ’77. Mind you, it did weigh in at only 429lb. Naturally, the engine had a lot to do with it, too. The Monza’s cylinders were wider than its MV America predecessor. As a result, capacity was increased to 837cc. The compression ratio had also been raised. Plus, a Marelli distributor – and hotter cams – had been added. All in, power had risen to 85bhp – at 8,750rpm. Previously, the 750S America – built predominantly for the US market – had upped the ante from the 750 Sport. Now, the Monza had trumped them both.

In styling terms, the new MV was equally upbeat. It had ‘café racer’ written all over it. Low-set ‘bars – and a humped-back seat – referenced MV’s GP bikes. Not only had the great Italian marque won 17 top-flight titles – it won them on the spin. Now, that is domination! Sadly – for MV Agusta, at any rate – the advent of the Jap 2-stroke motor had put the mockers on it. Design-wise, the Monza’s red and silver livery further enhanced its race-based brief.

Key to that brief was Arturo Magni. He was MV’s chief engineer. Reporting to him were mechanics from MV’s former 4-stroke race team. Taking MV’s already cutting edge technology, Magni meted out still more modifications to the Monza. Among them were a free-flowing exhaust, a chain-driven conversion from the standard shaft-drive and a bigger-bore kit. In turn, Magni’s twin-loop frame firmed everything up. Under Arturo’s tutelage, top speed and acceleration had both improved. Handling, too, was a beneficiary – since power delivery was smoothed out. The MV Agusta 850SS Monza was an impressive motorcycle with factory settings. Magni’s magic mods made it yet better!

Harley-Davidson XLCR

Marketing-wise, Harley-Davidson’s XLCR fell between two stools. It was neither a full-bore sports tool, nor – in typical Harley fashion – a laid-back cruiser. More than anything – as far as categories went – it was classic café racer. In the Seventies, though, performance was key. That was, after all, the decade of the first wave of Japanese superbikes. There was no way the XLCR was going to compete with them. While its pushrod V-twin engine packed plenty of torque, it was some way off its Oriental rivals at the top-end of the rev range. On the other hand – dramatic though it looked in its jet-black livery – it did not have enough ‘attitude’ chops to keep Harley die-hards happy. As a result, just 3,200 XLCRs were sold.

For sure, Willie G Davidson – Harley’s head of design – fulfilled his brief. The XLCR looked the business. From its flat-handlebars fairing – via an elongated tank – to the racy seat/tail unit, the XLCR’s lines were in all the right places. Certainly, the swoopy siamese exhaust set-up was stunning. Sadly, the XLCR’s speed stats did not stack up as neatly as its styling cues. A peak power output of 61bhp – at 6,200rpm – did not set any alarm-bells ringing. A top speed of 115mph was average – and no more. Suffice to say, then, that boy racers – of whom there were a lot in the late ’70s – were underwhelmed.

Harley’s sales brochures, however, took a different tack. They pointed to the fact that the XLCR’s performance was a marked improvement on what had gone before. Up to a point, they were right. But then, the same could be said of Harley’s new Sportster. In white knuckle terms, the XLCR did not do much the Sportster was not already doing. Added to that – and crucially for a Harley – the Sportster scored more ‘sit up and scowl!’ points. Harley-Davidson was right to try to tap a new trend. But – for two-wheeled speed merchants – the XLCR Cafe Racer simply could not cut the cappuccino!

Bimota SB2

The ‘SB’ stood for Suzuki/Bimota. It signalled Bimota’s standard practice of incorporating other marques’ engines into its own bespoke chassis. In the case of the SB2, power was provided by the Suzuki GS750. The 8-valve inline-four motor peaked at 68bhp. That gave the the SB2 a top speed of 130mph. Credit was also due to its slippery lines. A dry weight of just 440lb sealed the high-speed deal. This was still the Seventies, do not forget.

The driving force behind the SB2 was Massimo Tamburini. He had been a Bimota co-founder. Tamburini fitted the ‘legendary engineer’ bill to a tee. In his time, he had designed chassis for 250 and 350cc World Championship-winning bikes. In ’77, Tamburini tipped his technical brilliance into the new Bimota. It was a gimme, then, that the SB2 would handle as well as it went. Ceriani telescopic forks – and a first-of-its-kind rear monoshock – did the business suspension-wise. They were duly hitched up to a tubular steel space-frame. The monoshock alone separated the SB2 from its rivals … in every sense of the word!

First and foremost, though, a Bimota is about style. As befits a firm from Rimini, Italy. Certainly, the SB2 ran true to form, in that regard. Its bodywork wrote the book on ‘swoopy’. The tank protector/seat was a self-supporting one-piece – which saved the weight of a subframe. That innovation – like the rising-rate rear shock – would subsequently be seen on mass-produced machines. So, Bimota – that consummate special-builder – had done what it did best. In the beguiling form of the SB2, it merged dynamite design and top-drawer technology. Again!