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New Bike Test: Dual-Sport 2009 Moto Guzzi Stelvio
- From RoadBike May 2009
 David And Goliath By Jon Langston, Photos By Colleen Stupp Italy vs. Germany. It’s a classic matchup. The Alps are not only a physical divide, but also a cultural one between the two countries. Music, cuisine, soccer — you name it, and these European neighbors have fought over it.
So it’s no wonder that here in 2009, one of Italy’s most renowned motorcycle companies, Moto Guzzi, has put Germany’s Bavarian Motor Works directly in its sights with the introduction of its Stelvio 1200 4V dual-sport. Twin-cylinder powered, air/oil-cooled, shaft-driven, single-side swingarmed, and dry-clutched, the Stelvio takes all the features that makes BMW’s R1200GS the world’s premier dual-sport and tackles them head on. Given the history, this contest might be dismissed as just another border war. But the fact is, Guzzi has been one of Beemer’s direct competitors ever since the Italian company released its original G7 twin back in the late ’60s. So if anyone has a chance at mounting a challenge to BMW’s perch, the underdogs from Guzzi would be an obvious contender.
How notorious? Simply dial up the company’s US web site, www.MotoGuzzi-US.com, for a prime example. Despite having been at North American dealerships since last August, at this writing (early 2009) the Stelvio is barely even spotlighted on the company’s own site. You have to find the News section to find any mention of the bike, which is an article about its US release, an article posted to the site in December, months after the bike was actually available here. Now, it’s a long, intricate piece of writing, full of flowery adjectives and complete with the bike’s specifications. But it begs the question: why is there no mention of the Stelvio — or the company’s other new-for-2009 release, the gorgeous, retro-inspired V7 Classic — along with the other Moto Guzzi motorcycles in the page marked “Model Range”? For that matter, if this is the company’s latest/greatest offering, then why aren’t either or both of these bikes prominently featured on the site’s homepage? Now, this situation may have changed by the time you read this. But in this day and age, taking into account the information-driven computer society we’re all immersed in, this kind of nonchalance is mind-boggling at the least, and at best typical of the ineptitude that more than a few Guzzi enthusiasts (and there are many) feel has held the company back for a long time. And it’s particularly disturbing here, because the Stelvio 1200 is a great motorcycle. It’s the complete package, fun to ride and nice to look at. The engine is responsive, particularly at low and high revs; the seat and overall riding position are extremely comfortable; clearance is substantial; and the handling, at speed anyway, is a joy. In fact, despite its large size and heavy (too heavy?) curb weight, the extra-wide handlebars make for an eager lean; it cuts into and pulls out of sweepers with aplomb. I had a blast commuting on it. Putt-putting in traffic at low rpm, the Stelvio seemed neither anxious nor out of place, perfectly content to wait its turn or split the difference. Zipping along at highway speed the bike was eager and raring to go. To a man, I would even submit that the Guzzi’s power plant has more top end than the GS’ boxer. At above 6K revs the “Quattrovolve” (strangely, it’s the same engine that’s in the Griso, which Guzzi labels “8V”) continues to pull, and hard, far beyond the 7500 rpm power band. It doesn’t take much effort to get from 75 mph to, say, 100 or 110, not that I would know, of course, as such speeds are illegal on the Merritt Parkway. Still, after a few days on the bike, I couldn’t decide if this was an attribute or an issue, as the dual-sport’s engine just didn’t seem to have the same level of explosiveness down low.
Throwing a leg over the Stelvio, the first thing I noticed was the bike’s weight. It’s noticeably heavier than a R1200GS. At first I couldn’t determine if perhaps the GS only felt lighter because of the lower center of gravity provided by BMW’s Boxer engine. But by the time I looked into it and found that the Stelvio was indeed a heavier motorcycle, it didn’t matter. In my mind the Stelvio is more suited than the GS to everyday road travel, mechanically speaking. With its wide handlebars and long wheelbase, it seemed to handle suburban sweepers better than the GS, and that extra juice at the top end was not only a pleasant surprise, but extremely handy for working my way around knots in freeway traffic. No, it doesn’t have ABS — rumored to be in the works — and its instrument panel wasn’t the most user-friendly piece of equipment in the world. But I’ll get to my beefs later. For now, suffice to say that the Stelvio was easier to negotiate in traffic and more fun to blast down the open road than I remember the GS to be. And regardless of its weight, it wasn’t a beast in New York City traffic, although despite substantially softening the rear mono-shock’s preload setting, the ride remained more than a bit jarring on the mean streets of Gotham (in all fairness, I did not have an opportunity to adjust the front suspension, which should’ve cushioned the ride considerably). But I will say that the wide, two-position adjustable seat was a pleasure on the derrière. The styling of the Stelvio is sleek down low, bulky up high, a manly physique drawn straight from the cross-country enduros used in the famous Paris-Dakar rally. Its long, narrow footing is meant to remain stable on the long haul, or slide effortlessly between shrubs or through washes. This agility is, however, countered by those wide bars and the hulking bodywork up top. Two huge round headlights have drawn criticism from Euro-purists, although I find them to be cool in a retro-tourer fashion, sort of like Harley’s faired Road Glide. The shortish windshield is adjustable from the seat, and there’s a covered, latching pocket on top of the gas tank for your valuables. (On my first trip, I dropped my wallet into it, but then forgot how I’d opened it. I had to consult the manual, thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t, for example, in line at a tollbooth. But it was functional once I got the hang of the handlebar release system.) The saddle, footrests, and handlebars form an ergonomically friendly triangle that was comfortable for hours, and the levers and pedals are individually adjustable as well. Fire up the Stelvio, and you’re struck by that distinctive Italian clatter emanating from the 90-degree twin. A single overhead camshaft distribution system controls the four-valves-per-cylinder motor (again, doesn’t that make it an eight-valve engine? This is the kind of corporate vacillation that’s so frustrating to Guzzi aficionados). A new, lighter crankshaft, three-ring forged pistons, and lightweight valves with 5mm stems eliminate resonance, and could help explain that surplus power at high speed. The engine gets an original exhaust system with an aluminum silencer, and MG claims it pumps 105 horses at 7500 rpm and 80 ft-lbs. of torque at 6400 rpm, both reasonably equivalent to what BMW says the R1200GS produces. The chassis is built around an upper twin spar, double-cradle frame with 2.5 mm-thick directional tubes that anchor the engine at six connecting points for added rigidity. The 50 mm upside-down fork offers adequate absorption. Tubeless Pirelli Scorpions, a 110/80 on the 19" front wheel and a big 180/55/17 at the rear, provide the traction. Beefs? I’ve got a few; too few to mention. Oh, okay, I’ll give them a quick mention, because they all deal with the bike’s dual-sport designation. For one, a machine that’s meant to be able to handle wildly variable terrain at occasionally slow speeds, the weight of the Stelvio is concentrated in its upper half — so it’s not only heavy, it’s top-heavy. At less than 10 mph, that could prove unwieldy, particularly for inexperienced mogul riders. For another, I found myself wishing the engine’s tuning were more evenly balanced; if only Guzzi could’ve harnessed all that top-end horsepower into a bit more low- and mid-range torque, the Stelvio would feel far more agile off the tarmac. Third, on a long-range, off-road jaunt, I simply wouldn’t trust this fuel gauge. It might have been just our test model, but the LED gas gauge on our Stelvio was a perplexing mess. Despite 10 or so hash marks descending from F to E, this gauge read Full — that is, until half of the LEDs suddenly disappeared and I woefully realized I was down to a half-tank. After that, it dropped incrementally and seemed to work fine, with the fuel light coming on with about two marks left. So regardless of the LEDs, you still have to keep track of the miles you’ve ridden. Now, I don’t know about you, but before I decide to take that painfully enticing, single-track trail out into the desert or up to the top of a mountain, I’d prefer to have a little better handle on precisely how much petrol I’ve got in my tank.
Unfortunately, given contributing factors such as the November weather in New England and the relatively short time we had our hands on the Stelvio, the amount of off-road testing I got to put the bike through was minimal. Perhaps we can acquire one for a longer time or in a more proper setting in order to give you a full rundown of what this maxi-enduro (Moto Guzzi’s term, not mine) can do. Or maybe I can talk Editor Steve into a Stelvio/GS shootout, and settle this contest. RB Tech Sheet 2009 Moto Guzzi Stelvio 1200 4V |
Not to worry, Beemer fans. Given the massive core audience the GS line enjoys, even if Guzzi scored 1/10 of the worldwide sales numbers that the BMW achieves, the Stelvio would have to be perceived as a success in Mendello del Lario, the Moto Guzzi factory that only puts out about 8,500 bikes a year anyway. And considering the outstanding quality of the Stelvio, the only factors that might keep Moto Guzzi from achieving these numbers would be the shriveling economy — or the company’s notoriously poor organization. 
