Every year Motorcycle USA staff members lock the conference room door for a no-holds-barred melee to determine our year-end Best of Awards. Our British correspondent and Memorable Motorcycles contributor, Frank Melling, misses the Best Of voting carnage, but it doesn’t keep him from vociferous lobbying for Bike of the Year. Strangely enough, Melling’s Bike of the Year is the same, every single year – his own Matchless G.50! Enjoy Frank’s take on the Bike of the Year. After reading it ourselves, we’re not so sure he’s wrong.
Matchless - MCUSA's Bike of the Year for the Second Year Running
All hail the motorcycle Frank Melling dubs "The supreme Master of the Motorcycling Universe" the Matchless G.50.
You would be surprised what goes on in the massive skyscraper which is MCUSA's Oregon home. Behind the polished mahogany desks, the sparkling fountains which grace the huge, marble-clad atrium and the immaculate receptionists, there lurks a heart of evil. Ignore the $3,000 Saville Row suits, the hand-made Italian shoes and solid-gold Rolex watches and look rather at the dark prejudice which lurks behind those Harvard MBA accents. My so called editorial colleagues refuse to accept the truth. The Matchless G.50 is the best motorcycle in the world.
Okay, there have been a few other mildly interesting bikes this year. The Ducati Desmosedici is not too bad if all you want is a genuine MotoGP bike which you can ride on a public highway. Then there is...
Why am I wasting electricity by typing these words? The truth is that the supreme Master of the Motorcycling Universe is the Matchless G.50. And if you read anything else it is because my young colleagues simply refuse to accept the truth.
Our Matchless arrived 18 months ago due entirely to a life insurance policy I had forgotten about. Instead of having an expensive holiday, a new kitchen or a sports car for my wife, best friend and business partner, Carol, we invested everything in a mind-numbingly expensive 1962 Grand Prix bike - freshly manufactured by G.50 tuning maestro, Fred Walmsley. (You can read the whole story in
Matchless G.50 MMC article)
The first season was a learning curve for us, and a settling in process for the bike. It is worth remembering that in 1962 Grand Prix racing was a very different sport than today. If you had sufficient status as a rider, the Matchless factory, based in North London, would sell you a brand spanking new 500cc G.50 for racing's premier class. This was delivered absolutely ready to race.
By modern MotoGP prices, the G.50 was an absolute bargain - although horrendously expensive by the standards of the day. In 1962, if you could persuade Matchless to sell a bike to you, it would cost £527 (around $750) which was a year's wages for a skilled manual worker.
The single cylinder, two-valve engine which produced around 52 hp at the crankshaft – 47 hp, give or take, at the rear wheel. With the addition of a fairing, perfect conditions and a very skilled rider, the best G.50s would nudge quite close to 140mph
For this, you got a single cylinder, two-valve engine which produced around 52 hp at the crankshaft – 47 hp, give or take, at the rear wheel. The four-speed gearbox was a separate entity and was linked to the engine with an exposed chain lubricated by having oil dripped on to it. Most of the oil stayed away from the rear wheel - and rider learnt to live with that which didn't. With the addition of a fairing, perfect conditions and a very skilled rider, the best G.50s would nudge quite close to 140mph.
A G.50 was intended as a work horse to be used week in and week out with minimal maintenance. Utter reliability was essential because G.50 owners were forced to use their bikes a huge amount.
Grands Prix organizers paid tiny sums in prize and start money, despite having enormous attendances. Therefore, GP riders made their money from the non-World Championship races which were held all over Europe. Sometimes, a rider could participate in two events during a single week and in contrast to GPs, these meetings did pay good start and prize money. With a schedule like this, there was no time for engine re-builds, or even much maintenance. A quick check over, change the oil, throw the bike in the back of the van and hit the road for the next race or even a new country.
Typically, a G.50 engine was re-built only once in a season and that was before the Isle of Man TT in June. This would be something in the region of 1500 racing miles before a spanner touched the bike.
Forty-six years ago, there were very few purpose built race circuits. Most of the GP tracks were normal public roads complete with bumps, sidewalk curbs and even railway lines. In these conditions, riders needed a bike with rock solid handling. Rather than being quick to turn, they needed a bike which was stable at high speeds. Stability meant safety and in an era where getting killed racing was a normal part of life - the G.50's supremely trustworthy handling was a big help in staying alive.
The bike's duplex, bronze-welded frame looks a crude thing compared with the extruded aluminum and carbon fiber of current MotoGP bikes, but it is a lot cleverer than it appears. The G.50's handling is superb and it is comfortable too - an important factor when GP races were over 200 miles in length and riders rode multiple classes in a single day.
Stopped by two huge drum brakes, which require a lot more skill, and physical effort, to use than early disc brakes.
Finally, the bike performs well when heavily loaded. A full fuel and oil load for a GP was approaching 60 lbs and it was no use whatsoever having a bike which complained about carrying this payload. In every way, a G.50 rides like what it is: a Grand Prix thoroughbred.
A G.50 is stopped by two huge drum brakes. The front is an 8" diameter and the rear is also a whopping eight incher. These do not stop as well as even an early disc brake and they also require a lot more skill, and physical effort, to use.
The front brake has two leading shoes. These have a self servo effect which means that the stopping force is increased automatically when the brake is applied. The technique is to apply the brake hard and then gradually ease it off to maintain the same power - something which takes a degree of practice and patience to master in full-on racing conditions.
And finally, but most important, there is the G.50's appearance. In truth, the bike is too beautiful to even consider starting - let alone racing - but equally, to have it as a static museum piece would be a crime against humanity.
From every angle the G.50 is beautiful - svelte, feline and muscular. Interestingly, younger riders, who wouldn't normally give a classic bike the time of day, stop dead in their tracks when they see our G.50. Even more amazing is that people who don't even like bikes think the G.50 is a masterpiece. Eighteen months after we first took delivery of our G.50, I still go across to the workshop after a long day, just look at the bike and feel privileged to be in its presence: a veritable motorcycling version of Michelangelo's "David" in our garage.
Although completely original in terms of its external appearance, our G.50 was manufactured from brand-new parts. These are made to a much higher standard than Matchless ever achieved and the tolerances are also closer: this means that everything is slow to bed in. When the G.50 went back to builder Fred Walmsley' s workshop for a service last winter Fred checked the bike thoroughly and, after 400 racing miles, found absolutely nothing wrong. In fact, he declared the bike not yet run in and predicted it would go better this season.
Fred was right. The motor is now a little looser, the gearbox lighter and sweeter in its action and the brakes more powerful. This is about right for a bike which was designed to run for thousands of racing miles.
After a recent check up Fred Walmsley found absolutely nothing wrong with Frank's G.50 despite putting down 400 racing miles.
In the G.50's heyday, all GPs were begun with a dead engine, push start. This meant that the bikes had to fire up instantly. Fred made some very fine adjustments to the carburetion and now the G.50 starts effortlessly - with the right technique.
If you want to impress your friends, and become an object of desire for young ladies, here's how to start a G.50. Engage first gear. The gear lever is, naturally, on the right-hand side of the bike and equally obviously has a reversed shift pattern so it's up for first. Pull the bike back on compression so that the huge 80mm piston is at the top of the stroke.
Now, lean the bike over ever so slightly to the left-hand side so that the carburetor has just a little bit of a rich mixture. Not too much or the bike won't start at all - and not too little or it will stall. But, like Baby Bear, just the right amount will be perfect.
Pull in the clutch and push the bike vigorously. Drop the clutch, lay across the tank but do not, under any circumstances, open the throttle. Allow the engine to turn over through two cycles and then ease open the throttle no more than the width of a mosquito's eyelash.
When the engine fires, immediately pull in the clutch and catch the motor and ease it into life. Done correctly, it's as simple as that. Make a mistake during any part of the procedure and the G.50 will stubbornly refuse to start.
Do this surrounded by 35 other riders and you can be a 1960s GP star.
With Fred's careful tuning, our G.50 starts first time, every time which, whilst not attracting hoards of attractive young ladies, does earn me some street cred with the babies in the paddock.
So that's the nostalgia, the looks and the tech. spec. but none of these are enough to make the G.50 MCUSA's "Bike of the Year". Here's what is.
By modern MotoGP prices, the G.50 was an absolute bargain - although horrendously expensive by the standards of the day.
In July, I rode in the "Bikers Classics" event held on the legendary Spa Grand Prix circuit. The track has been much modernized since the 1960s but at the rear, towards the end of the lap, it still follows the original road circuit. "Blanchimont," the long, compound left-hander is probably over a mile long. For me, a rider of no great ability, the challenge is to take the whole corner flat out. That's 7200rpm on the G.50 - around 120mph.
There with, the late afternoon sun dappling the track, and smell of the pine trees drifting from the Ardennes forest, the G.50 was in its natural home. Tucked in close on the tank with the snarl and throb of the big Single beating into every fiber of my body, and the rear wheel drifting scrabbling for grip as the Matchless fought to hold its line, I was transported back to the Golden Age of Grand Prix racing. No Umbrella Girls, no press releases or corporate caps - no silly helmet graphics or sponsor branding: simply a thoroughbred race bike making motorcycling magic for its rider. Truly, the bike of the year.
And if you read anything else written by the little ones who also contribute to MCUSA you may, with my full approval, simply ignore their ignorance.
