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►Most of them already have heard all of the
Maico horror stories—that those bright red bikes cost a lot, that you
practically need a degree in motocross tuning to keep them running and that a
Maico requires a bit of shade-tree re-engineering to make it fully trackworthy.
But knowledge of those ever-present annoyances doesn't overshadow another
equally well-known Open-class fact: When a Maico works properly, it really
works. Nothing else turns like it or hooks up like it or does as good a job of
making just about anyone a better rider.
A lot of people, though, are confused about the fact that Maico sells two
Open-class models, this year called the 400M1 and 450M1. Short of making a
typically American-style decision to opt for the bigger of the two, it's hard
for you to know which one is the right one for your particular needs. After all,
Maico's brochures and advertisements don't tell you, nor can you look elsewhere
for an example, since no other motorcycle company makes more than one
Open-classer. Indeed, the biggest of them all, Honda, has decided that because
Open-class sales are so limited, it's not worth the company's time to build one
at all. And yet here's Maico, a small, family-owned outfit tucked away in
darkest West Germany, building two.
What's even more mystifying
to non Maicophiles is that aside from their respective bore sizes (77mm vs.
82mm) and the decals on the side number plates, the 400 and 450 are
indistinguishably identical. They even perform with startling similarity—enough
so that you might even wonder why Maico went to all the bother.
It wasn't always this way.
Until the past few years, Maico's 450 was a brutal, for pros-only motocross
weapon. Some world-class riders would detune the violent motor for certain
tracks just to make the bike less-tiring in a long moto. That's why Maico
continued to offer the sleeved-down 400 as an alternative for riders who didn't
want or couldn't use the 450's brutal horsepower.
Today it's a different story.
Even though both Open Maicos now make as much or more horsepower as those older
450s, their powerbands have been mellowed. So the new 450 is no more violent nor
harder to ride than the 400. As a matter of fact, in many ways the bigger bike
is even easier to pilot over a rough course. Consequently, choosing the right
Open-class Maico is even more confusing than ever.
Your confusion will be
intensified once you learn that for 1980, one of the things that had helped
Maicos become legends in their own time—the chassis—has been radically changed.
As a result, an M1 feels totally different from any previous Maico—and unlike
any other motocross bike, as well.
Maico's designers decided
revamping the chassis was necessary because they believed simply stretching the
suspension travel over the years had forced too many compromises in areas such
as seat height and front-fork rigidity. Among other things, they wanted the new
Maicos to have a reasonably low seat, and to steer once again with the kind of
bulls-eye precision that is possible only with a strong, flex-free frame and
front suspension.
With a foot of travel
required at both ends, however, the task wasn't easy. But one glance at a new
Maico tips you off as to how they accomplished their goals. The seat angles
downward sharply toward the front, so although the aft end is a mile high to
permit sufficient wheel travel beneath it, the part where the rider normally
sits is only a fraction of an inch higher than that of last year's
10-inch-travel machines. Moreover, despite a low, flat handlebar, the location
of the grips is unusually high—not just relative to the low-slung seat, but to
the ground as well. With a 2.5-gallon gas tank that slopes up toward the
steering head, the Maico looks as though the combination of a 300-pound rider
and a huge jump had bent it in the middle.
The handlebar mounts are high
essentially because the steering head is high. And that's due in part to the
very long travel of the air-spring fork and because the steering head is 20mm
taller than before (adding rigidity to that critical junction of backbone and
front downtubes). The longest overlap (8.5 inches) between the fork tubes and
slider legs we've ever heard of further increases the altitude of the steering
head, as well as giving the fork an unparalleled resistance to side-to-side
flex. Actually, because of this overlap and the length of travel, the steering
head would have been even higher were it not for the Ml's ingenious drop-center
lower triple clamp that allows the long sliders to reach full compression
without interfering with the clamp.
Another obvious trick to
bolster rigidity is the M1's massive 42mm fork tubes, which are 4mm larger in
diameter than any tubes ever before used on a dirt bike. They're stronger by
virtue of their increased circumference and yield a 10-percent increase in
contact area inside of each triple-clamp bore. Furthermore, each leg holds a
whopping 570cc of oil (up from 370cc in '79), insuring that there will be no
damping fade from overworked, overheated oil.
If you think the fork is
different, check out the unique welded-together, rectangular cross-section "Megaform"
frame backbone. It's strong, just like everything else on the Ml, but mainly it
takes up as little room as possible so that the short gas tank can have
sufficient capacity without being annoyingly tall or wide. A short tank also is
important because it's necessary in these days of foot-long travel for a rider
to be able to sit as far forward as possible for the maximum amount of
front-wheel traction in the corners.
Obviously, the motorcycle
that has emerged from this major chassis rethink takes more than a little
getting used to. When you first plop down on the 37-inchhigh seat and latch onto
the armpit-level handgrips, you don't know whether to act like Bob Hannah the
motocrosser or Peter Fonda the E-Z rider. Once you get moving, it feels like
you're perpetually riding uphill because the handlebar is so high. You're forced
to employ an unusual amount of upper-body strength to work the handlebar in the
turns, and sliding back on the steeply sloped seat is very difficult. In all,
you spend about a full day feeling as clumsy as the proverbial ox before you
grow accustomed to the Maico's ways.
The odd thing about it all is
that once you get yourself adjusted to the bike's weirdness, you start to like
it. A lot. After a while, in fact, every other motocross bike you ride feels
unusual.
If that sounds like bad news
to all of you long-standing Maico fans, fear not: The traditional steering and
handling magic still is there. The new Maicos sometimes even seem to turn
corners more crisply than the previous ones, which were no slouches. But if so,
it's due to the lack of front-end flex rather than as a result of any steering
changes, for the geometry is virtually the same as before.
Whatever the cause, the
effect is that you can stuff an Ml, either of the 400cc or 450cc variety, into a
corner just as hard as you like and still be able to turn it inside of any other
Open-class machine. Both M1’s can be made to rail all the way around a corner on
the berm; but they'd rather use that outer rim like a billiard cushion, slamming
into it just long enough to change direction before cutting down off of it onto
the next straight.
Some of that turning
precision must be credited to the front fork which, even though calibrated with
slightly stiff springing and damping to meet Euro-track demands, offers the best
action ever found on a stock Maico. Of course, first we ignored the factory's
recommendation of 8-10 psi of air in the fork, opting for between zero and five
psi instead. And we replaced the original 10-weight oil with 550cc (20cc less
than stock) of 5-weight. That gave our 400 (we left the 450 as delivered, just
for comparison) better damping and less-progressive overall springing that was
comparable to that of the best Japanese-built units, although not quite in the
same league, in strict shock-absorption, as a Husqvarna fork. With the fork
dialed-in, the Maico would soak up everything but sharp chops and ripples.
Dropping down to 2.5-weight oil might have cured this compression-damping
problem, but it also would have left the fork unacceptably devoid of re bound
damping.
In comparison, the rear
suspension gets the job done, but it's still nothing to write home about. The
swingarm is the same as that of last year's Magnums, but the remote-reservoir
Corte Cosso shocks are longer and their upper mounting brackets have been moved
forward about an inch. The new installation angle and the increased shock travel
give the rear wheel a stroke that's more than two inches longer (12 inches). The
suspension is more compliant than that of the '79 bikes, so the rear wheel hooks
up and follows the track's contours more efficiently than ever. The only types
of bumps that constantly remind you that the shocks are not Ohlins quality are
the very same sharp-edged lips and holes that defeat the fork.
Unfortunately, while the
softness of the rear suspension makes for a ride cushier than that of previous
Maicos, it combines with the slightly low (for a bike with 12 inches of travel)
and wide footpegs to let your feet hit the ground regularly. Sometimes your
heels hit while landing hard, sometimes your feet get swept off the pegs
altogether in the mud. And all of our testers complained that because the rear
end would squat down so far while slamming into a berm, their outside feet would
get dragged off the peg if the berm was steep.
The Italian-made Corte Cossos
also start to fade after 25 or 30 minutes of hard moto, and then you can feel
the rear end begin to bottom and bounce in places where it previously wouldn't.
And judging by the condition of the shocks on our bikes after the test, their
half-life won't be more than a month or two. Thankfully, there are lots of
aftermarket shocks to fit Maicos.
You probably won't be in the
market for many accessory engine goodies, though, for there's little to fault
about the way either bike runs. Both pump out great gobs of horsepower and
buckets of low-end torque, all without the faintest trace of peakiness. Despite
lacking reed or rotary valves, either of these piston-port engines will grunt
out of a slow turn at ultra-low rpm at a remarkably competitive rate, especially
the 450. Both engines like to be short-shifted very early in the powerband,
although the bigger Maico cuts competitive laps with a bit less shifting and a
lot lower rpm than the 400.
Both engines have snappier
throttle response this year due to lighter crankshaft flywheels. The cranks are
not the usual full-circle type; instead considerable material has been cut away
adjacent to the crankpin, thus giving each wheel a rounded-off "T" shape and
reducing the overall flywheel effect. This hasn't seriously diminished the
tractability or low-rpm pulling power of either engine, but it has helped them
rev and accelerate more quickly—a bit, in fact, like the Japanese-built
Open-class machines.
In conjunction with the new
crank, the pistons are lighter in both engines to maintain the desired balance
factor. And there's a minor re-angling of the transfer ports and a wider
"eyebrow" atop the exhaust port, constituting the only tuning changes of any
significance for 1980. Carburetion comes from a 36mm Bing, which is not all that
big in relation to engine size. Its conservative venturi area is partly
responsible for the crisp, bog-free throttle response, though it does slightly
inhibit high revs.
Nevertheless, anyone coming
to the track with the notion of out-motoring a Maico had better have a healthy
engine and good traction on his side. Because the efficient way these bikes put
most of their power on the ground—combined with competitive peak power
numbers—they're tough to beat.
Naturally, the 450 is faster,
but only by the slimmest of margins on level ground—say, less than a bike-length
through three or four gears. Up steep, fast hills, though, the 450 makes its
muscle known by pulling away from the 400 at a faster rate. And even when
running dead-even with the 400, the 450 prefers a higher gear and fewer revs,
meaning that it will get better traction when the track is slick or muddy. The
450 has better lugging power at low revs, the 400 has crisper response (but less
power) in the midrange and also revs higher, but the 450 is faster. Yet the 450
is, surprisingly, less-demanding to ride than the 400 bike.
Despite having less flywheel
mass, neither of our Maicos vibrated excessively. Several pieces did work loose,
but only because we were lax in performing routine nut-and-bolt checks.
Apparently, we've done too many tests of no-maintenance Japanese bikes for our
own good. But that points up one of the differences between owning a Maico and
owning a Japanese motocrosser: You have to maintain the Maico religiously or
you'll soon end up with little more than a pile of parts. You must, for example,
replace the primary chain often or it'll break. You have to contend with spoke
nipples that seize on the threads and an airbox opening that allows mud from the
rear tire to get slung onto the filter element. The cables are cheap, the grips
are junk, the gas cap tightens up on the filler neck and some minor starting/
low-rpm carburetion quirks could be alleviated by swapping the low-tech Bing for
something better.
Moreover, any new Maico rider
who has cut his teeth on a Japanese bike will find that instead of using two
fingers to operate the front brake and three to work the clutch, the M1 calls
for a whole fistful on the brake, and that the clutch feels more like The Hulk's
hand exerciser. And if you intend to shift the M1 without the clutch (a wise
move, considering the effort required), you must roll the throttle off
altogether rather than just blipping it as with an RM or YZ.
Understanding all of these
things beforehand, though, is the key to making a smooth transition from some
other kind of bike to an Ml. Like so many other European motorcycles, a Maico is
not your personal slave, ready and willing to do everything and ask nothing in
return. Nossir. It's a true partnership with these bikes or it's nothing at all.
They'll forgive and correct many of your riding faults if you'll do likewise
with their design and manufacturing shortcomings. Just as the Maico legend says,
you have to like working on motorcycles to co-exist with one, and it helps if
you're at least passable as a wrench-spinner.
These considerations, then,
should be the ones that affect your decision to buy an Open-class Maico, not the
size of the piston that pumps up and down inside. There just isn't that much
difference in their performance. Every test rider on our staff, though, admitted
that for one reason or another, the 450 would be his first choice for Maico
magic.►
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Bike Tests 
