Time Machines: 1981 Maico vs WR450F

This content was originally published in issue #8 of Transmoto Dirt Bike Magazine in May, 2011.

Transmoto tests two enduro icons – separated by three decades – to see if the future has brought us the bike we really need. Or have style and personality become overlooked commodities?

“It’s like a horse; it knows when you’re scared.” Not the sort of conversation we normally overhear on a Transmoto test, but these spoken words have just brushed the bristles of one of Australia’s most famous moustaches – but this one hasn’t tried to blow-torch the soles of your feet or throw a cricket ball square at you. Geoff Ballard, master enduro rider and custodian of the said ‘thirdeyebrow’, has the beginning of a rye smile forming on his face. The words are aimed at the rider trying to start the bright-red 1981 Maico 490GS. Damian Smith, one of Australia’s most capped ISDE riders and the kind of guy that wouldn’t sweat in a sauna, looks the most flustered I’ve ever seen him. It takes Ballard, casually sauntering over in what can only be described as ‘sporting clogs for the older gentleman’ two prods to fire the Maico into a barkingly smokey existence.

Now let me set the scene further. We’re at Ballard’s Ranch, on the outskirts of Sydney, and there’s more enduro talent on this small paddock than perhaps anywhere else in the world right now. The 2011 race team has just been on a photoshoot and I’m recognising dirty – but famous – faces everywhere. Stefan Merriman mingles with Chris Hollis, Matthew Phillips talks lines with Jess Gardiner, while ISDE veterans Laurie Alderton and Ballard are talking previous victories riding Maicos in the ’80s. But all the laughter and chat stops with the metallic zing of the old girl filling the air. Such is the mystique of the grand old Maico. In contrast, I count eight, 2011-model WR-Fs that are waiting for a nappy change, but ignored as the fridge in your kitchen.

The Maico 490GS and Yamaha WR450F are both iconic bush bashers. Separated by three decades, the Maico’s air-cooling, twin-shock suspension and blockey European styling has given way to the latest Japanese technology and fashion. But does that mean the Yamaha is indistinguishable from its older brother? I guess riding the pair over the next 12 hours will tell.

Maico Magic

Apart from a couple of ill-conceived revivals, the Maico company all but pogo’d into obscurity in 1986. That’s a quarter-century ago and adds to the myth of such bikes. The 1981 490GS enduro (and motocross-version MX) twin-shock models were considered the height of the company’s achievements, and much more desirable than the following year’s single shocker. How desirable, I hear you ask? Well, the bike crackling away in front of me is worth between $8K and $12K. That means whichever bike takes your fancy between the East German 490 and Japanese 450 we have here, expect a similar-sized attack to your finances.

However, only one of these bikes will ever go up in value. But riding off-road isn’t about value; it’s more about feeling. With the engine silent, the Maico takes you to a happy place. Every bike I’ve ever doodled in my life looks like this. Draw a couple of wheels, add a frame, slap an engine in the middle, add a tank and seat et voila, it looks like your CV for the job in the Maico design department. Not that they had such an area, but it’s the pureness of the lines and the gaps between components that makes it look centuries different to the modern Yami. From the rightside drive chain to wheel spokes as thick as your wrist, the Maico came from a time when being a ‘Metrosexual’ got you a slap. Stand the two bikes side-by-side and it’s clear that there’s not been a single area on the right-side-of-theIron-Curtain refugee that hasn’t been tested, modified, re-tested and redesigned to what you see on the bike from the Rising Sun.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

The engineering work on the motor looks the most advanced. Back in the early ’80s, big twostrokes were drinking Castrol R like a docker on payday. There was no water-cooling so engine heat was dissipated by the use of fins that wouldn’t look out of scale on Moby Dick. The Maico’s barrel and head look like a giant alloy mushroom and totally dominate the smooth and small bottom-end. The expansion-chamber exhaust helps fill up the engine compartment, but there’s still plenty of room for fat fingers to get to the carb (Bing as standard, though many bikes now run Mikunis) and the electrical coil that runs underneath the tank. After a brief glimpse at the Yamaha’s filled-to-bursting engine bay, I think I’d rather take the position of Maico mechanic back in the day. Up next are the aesthetics. Again, chalk and cheese barely covers it. The Yamaha is all about flow – the radiator shrouds flow into the tank, which mates perfectly with the seat before finding the rear mudguard in a smooth line. In comparison, the Maico looks like it’s been put together by your young nephew.

Just like the tank and seat, the engineers behind these items had clearly never worked together. The sideplates are big enough to handle a race number and that’s about the end of the styling for them, and the rear guard looks cavernous enough to be harbouring Romanian gypsies. It’s so big that I’ll be surprised if I ever get dirty riding the 490. And that’s next. As I kit up, the bike roars with menace behind me. I risk a look at it (I’d call ‘it’ a ‘her’ but women don’t scare me this much). If the legend is true, then I’m just about to get my head ripped off before the Maico roosts down my neck. The fact that the bike wears three lots of triple 9s on its numberboards isn’t helping the situation either – 999 is the number for an ambulance in the UK. If I were to flip it, that number would turn into 666. Either way, it’s not looking good. With idling a nicety not known in the ’80s, I’m blipping the throttle while trying to get my goggles on – my last attempt at giving the bike long enough to implode before I have to face a ride.

Ring-Ding-Ding-Round One

With a pull of the heavy cable clutch and a twist of the wrist, my destiny is literally in my hands. The Maico pulls away surprisingly cleanly with the grace of a new bike and instantly becomes a ‘she’. I think we’re going to get on. Now Geoff Ballard’s no weekend warrior so his own track isn’t gentle or flowing. Lack of rain means it’s dustier than a Hoover bag with blow-through berms on the corners and concrete ruts on the straights.

My first laps ever on this track were five minutes ago on the Yamaha, a bike that holds a million-times less mystery than what’s currently between my legs. I ease into the first corner and the Maico steers effortlessly. After a couple more tight corners, I’m starting to think there’s plenty of fun to be had behind the bars of the old girl. The power’s much broader than I was expecting and the baseball bat-to-the-back-of-the-head hit has yet to materialise. A bit like the brakes, then – although calling them brakes doesn’t seem to be the right word whatsoever. Sharpness, bite, power are three more words that don’t spring to mind, either. They are terrible and terrifying in equal doses and are a better reason for the bike’s reputation than the engine ever could be. I have to rethink every corner. On the WR, I’m doing my usual of quick in, brake hard, squirt out. I just can’t get away with that on the Maico.

“There are plenty of reasons why the WR450F has been such a great seller in Australia, but riding it lets you know that only one really matters – confidence.”

As my confidence grows, so does the speed, which the brakes fail to better and that ‘shit-shit-shit’ feeling comes back and I have to build up my confidence all over again. To take my mind off the scary brakes, the back end lets me know what life was like before they sorted suspension. Under power up a bumpy, rutted section, the back kicks like a mule as the bike runs out of travel. There’s a helluva lot more shock than absorption going on beneath me, but I’m insulated greatly by the massively comfy saddle. Though the saddle’s hungrier than a fat chick’s knickers and welcomes any excuse to trap your chicken skin in the gap with the seat. The whole bike seems a bit Yin and Yang – the beaut front-end and lack of weight make it easy to steer round corners but the banging back-end and crap brakes more than negate this.

“Go fast in on this bike and the image becomes full of close-up tree bark and broken teeth. It takes me a while to understand what’s needed to ride the 490.”

With all the negatives that come with a bike designed in an era that bears little resemblance to today, there’s an undeniable beauty in the bike. For better or for worse, I’m feeling every inch of this track, every mechanical revolution of the engine and every ache, moan and groan of a chassis that would rather be in a museum. The experience is making me feel very much alive. Though, I’ve heard it said that you’ll never feel more alive than just before death…

Round Two

We had always planned to test at two, completely different venues. And the open, flowing grasstrack I see before me bares no resemblance to Ballard’s track. A course has been cut-in already and again I take the Yamaha out first. After changing my style (hey, that’s what I’m calling it) for the Maico, its taking time to re-adjust to the poise and precision that is the WR-F. I’m locking up the rear on every corner and braking way too early for everything. This means mucho wrong gears and that I’m relying on the 450’s torque to get me out of trouble. Suddenly the Maico’s usable range doesn’t seem so impressive in comparison.

The blue bike seems so stable underneath me, so firmly damped and the seat rock-hard – but I know as the speeds increase none of that will be of concern. It’s easy to find a rhythm on a modern bike, and that dance gets better the faster you go. There are plenty of reasons why the WR450F has been such a great seller in Australia, but riding it lets you know that only one really matters – confidence. Like a supportive parent, the Yami really wants you to do well and does everything it can to help you – ‘You want brakes, master? – Just squeeze here … You want power? – Let me open the taps … You want to go fast? – Just hold on, buddy boy.’ After lapping at what will become my maximum velocity, I edge the WR-F back to where the Maico’s giving me the evil eye. Or is it more of a ‘come-on, let’s play’ look? She (blimey, I’ll be giving her a name soon) has me more intrigued than scared and we’re even at the point where I can start her without the intervention of a clog-wearing adult. We’ve brought Mavis The Maico (damn, I knew that was gonna happen) to this track, but it’s the circuit that’s now coming to the bike.

It’s time to discover what happens when she’s flat, wide and open. It takes a while to gel with the gearbox. This morning, on the tighter track, the engine would power between the corners in a one- or two-gear sprint. Now I’m up and down the box in a frenzy and often the message is muddled. Miss a gear on this 1981 machine and it seems to be 1999 before the cogs mesh and find drive. With a bit of practice (and patience), it’s possible to slow my left-foot inputs down enough for us all to be getting on. Second, third, fourth. Now we’re buzzing but not crazily so. The famed adrenaline hit’s been dulled with age (and the bike’s replacement Mikuni carb) and the result is rapid rather than warp speed. With no sharp corners, the braking’s less of an issue and the feel from the front continues to impress. More than that, the 490 has such a planted, light feel to the front-end that you wonder if the Yami tech-heads need to have a quick ride on Mavis and tweak their own machine’s settings.

With no real bumps on the track, the rear-end is shown in its best possible light and limps away from this morning’s defeat with just the smallest of respect. Just like the start of the day, the Maico is now silent. The last chance at a look before I go. I eye those seductively long legs that nearly reach the floor, the curve of her sexy exhaust and the see-through nature of the fuel tank. She’s 30, likes it dirty and I’m feeling just a little flirty… Judging from the lack of time the Maico stands still between riders, we’re all lusting over the old-timer. I say all but Damian still seems to be scared by this morning’s episode. Guess they just don’t make those ISDE riders like they used to…

PRO: Damian Smith on the Maico. 35, 67kg, 180cm.

“My bike career started in 1989 so I have no reference back to bikes this old. From not being able to start the bastard to having to ride without brakes, it’s not been the most fun. I want technology to help me go faster and the Maico seems to be missing this in spades.”

VET: Laurie Alderton on the Yamaha. 73, 82kg, 186cm

“This is the first modern four-stroke I’ve been on and it’s quite a shock. The brakes are so powerful they seem severe, the suspension so firm that it felt harsh but, as the day wore on, I felt more comfortable with the way these modern bikes ride. Still, I’d rather be on the Maico.”

CLUBMAN: Garry Blizzard on the Maico. 41, 87kg, 178cm

“I like it a lot and would love to race one. Sure, it has to be understood but there are no surges in power that would catch you out. That was the biggest surprise for me and it shows just how we’re used to power and travelling quickly nowadays.”

CLUBMAN: Martin Child on the Maico. 43, 91kg, 189cm

“I’m digging the old bikes more than ever. The myth of the Maico being certain death proved to be over-exaggerated – though it’s still a thrill to ride something with as much history as this. It was satisfying as the more effort I put into riding her, the more she gave back.”