Rumbling Guzzi
Back at the end of 1969, Moto Guzzi unveiled their latest model for police and civilian use. In the year you could buy a Triumph Trident, a Honda CB750 or a Kawasaki 500 Mach III, Moto Guzzi announced a bike just like your Dad used to have: the Nuovo Falcone.
For years, Moto Guzzi had made a living and a reputation with their singles. The mighty Falcone was a renowned race-winner. With its advanced suspension and decent cooling, it was copied and coveted. However, it did eventually age, and the bolted-up frame of plates and tubes was not the stiffest thing on the track.
So Moto Guzzi went back to their roots and redesigned the famous flat single. The New Falcon was their updating of the legend. It was used by the Italian police and sold by the shipload to places like Albania and Yugoslavia, but never really made it in the private sector. I believe there were a few attempts to import them to the UK, but no sales. The New Falcone was discontinued in 1974, with the last variant being the Sahara - an early Paris-Dakar styling exercise.
So what we have is an old-fashioned soft single, looking a lot like the Falcon, that has no sales or spares base in the UK and a short manufacturing life. Sounds attractive, doesn't it? Actually, it is. The New Falcon is a practical classic, with all the virtues of an old Moto Guzzi and few vices. What you get is a low-compression heavyweight 500 single. The pot faces forward, tilted slightly up from the horizontal. The redesign brought unit construction, a wet sump and coil ignition. It kept the huge external flywheel, but hid it behind an alloy casing. It uses a car dynamo, driven by a V belt off the flywheel. The styling of the military and police models is very 1930s, with a sprung saddle and separate pillion pad on the rear carrier. They also have crash bars and leg shields, an optional handlebar fairing and the world's largest air cleaner.
The whole bike is built to survive the ungentle attentions of the police and army. You may have heard of the racing design adage: if it breaks, make it stronger; if it doesn't break, make it lighter. Well, the Moto Guzzi version goes: if it breaks, make it heavier; if it doesn't break, make it bigger. The New Falcon looks like it's been on steroids. Pity help the car that ever gets in the way.
I found my New Falcon at a classic hillclimb. In amongst the exotica and trivia was this pretty blue Moto Guzzi, looking like a weightlifter in a ballet class. I recognised the type, but not the model. I went back for another look, then another... later that week it was mine.
When I collected it I rode the sixty miles home and wondered what on earth I had done. I could find only neutrals in the gearbox, the whole thing shook like a wet dog, and the seat bounced like a pogo stick. I parked it in the garage and everything leaked - the sump drain plug, the forks, the fuel tap. There were drips of all colours on the floor. This was bizarre, as the bike has never leaked a drop since. Character, I suppose.
After a bit of minor fettling to tighten-up various bolts, put the original air filter back on, bolt-on the leg guards and fit a top box, I started using it for commuting.
Perhaps this is the oddest bit of all: I'm doing 70 miles a day on a 30 year-old bike, in all weathers, totally reliably. It always starts and always works. I've got 84,000km on the clock at the moment, and it uses no oil between changes. The battery was past its best, so I fitted a new one. It lives under the seat, so I used an upside-down dishwasher salt container over the top of it, sprayed black. This prevents one of the traditional New Falcon surprises - the battery arcing against the metal seat base.
New control cables and points are in stock and available from Agostini's. The air filter element is the same size as a Mini's. It's not too heavy on the tyres, and a chain is £20 from my local bike shop (when I eventually need one).
The only faults so far have been the horn falling off and a chain adjuster breaking.
The horn was on a Bakelite bracket, which was non-original but seemed OK until I hit a huge pothole in Leeds. The bracket snapped and the horn fell down onto the engine. I left it to rattle there until I got to work, then tied it up.
The chain adjuster was more serious. I noticed that the chain was very slack when I got to work one morning, looked more carefully and saw that the drive-side chain adjuster bracket on the end of the swinging arm had cracked, letting the wheel pull forward (and move it will - the engine will pull from tickover revs, and can really snatch at the chain). This was bodged with a bit of wire to get me home, then a blob of weld from the garage round the corner.
And that's it. I've read all the tales of failing clutches, UJs, gearboxes and electrics in the Gambalunga and wondered what I've been missing. The old nail never misses a beat in the heaviest rain, the lights work, and it all just keeps plodding along. I could wish for better brakes, but I'll see about changing the shoe material when they wear down. I could wish for indicators, but I'll sort some out over the Winter. The rest of the bike is just plain, robust and reliable.
I ought to add that I've read the Mick Walker book too. New Falcons are supposed to suffer from poor lubrication of the inlet valve stem. The answer seem to be that if the oil pressure is good, there is no problem. The dangerously fragile oil strainer was replaced by a plastic version before they stopped production. Concours enthusiasts will have to find some aluminium swarf to drop into the engine to make-up for the loss. The only other weak spot is an exhaust valve seat with a tendency to fall out. The solution to this seems to be to not let the bike run too lean. I intend to get it converted to lead-free this Winter, so that should fix that little worry at the same time.
The good news for anyone interested in a New Falcon is that they are not classics. The Italians are not precious about them, and there are hundreds of them in use in Germany and Holland. Now that things are a little quieter in the Balkans (this was written before the recent genocide), some of the owners over there are making contact again. This means that spare parts are still genuine rather than pattern, and there are no dubious renovations lurking in the classifieds. When you buy one, you usually get what you can see.
Riding the beast is a step back in time. It can lurch away from traffic lights quite quickly, propelled by the huge inertia of the enormous flywheel. Giving it the gun away from the lights also tends to terrify car drivers into lifting off. The sound of a lusty big single snorting through an Italian silencer (sic) is enough to reach inside the assembled Shopping Trollies and Exec Expresses and make them think that something expensive has just broken. By the time they recover, you're looking for second gear.
The gearbox requires studies care to change quietly, and will catch you out with false neutrals. Passing through the real neutral from first to second can be fraught for a beginner. It's usually easier to either double-declutch, or to pull away in second. Revving the engine is pointless - the technique is to change up quickly to fourth, leave it there and drive on the throttle.
The torque curve is flat, so flat that it's hard to see where the peak might be. There's only about 28 ft lbs, but it barely varies. Maximum power of just over 26hp is developed at 4,800 rpm. This equates to around 75-80 on standard gearing. The engine runs out of puff and it's all over by 5,000 rpm.
Filtering in traffic is a cinch. First gear is very low, and the bars are wide. With the soft engine and heavy flywheel, this means you can ride feet-up at less than walking pace. The ‘silencer' also gives excellent warning of your approach. The original fitment is an unusual double piggy-back silencer that would surely fail the Sale of Goods Act. Only the Italians could make a silencer with twice the metal, twice the chrome, and half the absorption. The good side is that my family know I'm on my way home and get the kettle on before I arrive.
A and B roads are the bike's real home. The handling is excellent, and the frame outperforms the engine. The mid-range acceleration is poor. Most cars can accelerate quicker in the forty to sixty range. However, it has long legs. Get a decent cruising speed, settle yourself down on the saddle, and the old dear will chuff away for ever. There's no need to slow down for corners - just lean it over and it will go round. I've not managed to scrape any part of the bike yet in a corner, despite a few ‘moments'. I think the ends of the handlebars might be the first bits to touch down.
Motorways are to be avoided. The top speed of around 80mph means slip-streaming lorries. The wide bars and upright seating position make this a good idea for comfort too, unless you particularly want longer arms. It will do 70 all day, but you might not.
The seat is surprisingly comfortable. It has a separate sprung saddle, as well as a sprung frame. The motion is disconcerting at first, as it feels like the rear tyre is flat or breaking away in corners. Once you've got used to the bobbing motion, it's quite pleasant.
Starting is a cinch, helped by the flywheel. Bring the engine up to compression, then ease it over using the 'second clutch lever' - the large decompressor on the left handlebar. Fuel on, ignition on, handlebar-mounted choke on, then push the kickstart down. No risk of kick-back or nastiness, just an immediate and unremarkable start. It's just as easy with a hot engine, which will spoil the fun for many ‘classic' owners.
The compression may be a bit less than seven to one, but failing to use the decompressor means standing up in the air on the end of the kickstart, waiting for something to happen.
The reward is the wonderful throb of the engine and the feeling of the machine being alive as it shakes. The engine rotates backwards, in the sense that the crankshaft rotates the opposite way to the wheels. It makes no difference on the road, but blipping the throttle with the bike on the stand makes it walk backwards. It would not be a good idea to leave a Nuovo Falcone warming-up outside your house if you lived at the top of a hill.
The whole bike is built to last. I parked the old dear next to a Japanese 400 single. I couldn't believe how frail the Oriental looked - the gear lever would surely break if you put your full weight on it, and the frame tubes were no thicker than my thumb. The New Falcon has a massive full-cradle frame, sand-cast alloy engine and a heel-and-toe gearlever that would double as a kickstart (except the kickstart is even bigger and heavier). The external flywheel peeps out of the bottom of its cover beneath the left footrest, where it can be seen spinning at tickover.
I've had the bike for over a year now, and we're beginning to get along. I've just about got the knack with the gearbox, and I'm gradually improving the bits like cables and brackets. The original double silencer is now stored in the garage, and a 1950's pattern Norton one slipped into its place. This is a quarter the price of the Italian silencer, so I can stop worrying when it rains. I spent ages smartening-up the original Carabinieri handlebar fairing, only to find that one of the mountings had a stripped thread. Another job for the dark months.
I'm also beginning to make contact with other owners. I've found a few in the UK, one in Holland, one in the USA, a couple in the Balkans and one in New Zealand. The Internet is a wonderful thing! If you want to learn more or to declare your own personal madness - take a look at http://www.devce.demon.co.uk/falcone.htm
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