One of the main halls in Bill’s Old Bike Barn features Moto Guzzi and military motorcycles along with other militaria, motorcycle engines, and more. We know Moto Guzzi primarily as sporting motorcycles. Back in the day, though (the day being World War II and beyond), Moto Guzzi made motorcycles for the Italian Army. Good buddy Bill has a few and they are on display, along with military motos from Germany and America and sporting Moto Guzzis.
There’s just so much to take in. I imagine Bill enjoys collecting and curating these things. That’s a cargo parachute, and it fits the collection nicely. There are several airplanes throughout Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
The Harley WL comes to mind first when anyone mentions military motorcycles. It’s the iconic World War II American military motorcycle. It’s a 750cc flathead V-twin, OD green, and it has a scabbard for a .45 ACP Thompson (and there’s one in Bill’s WL).
The quintessential American military moto, also used by Canadian forces. When I was a kid, we heard stories that you could buy these brand new, still in the shipping crates, for $25. I never found out if that story was true.
The German counterpart was a 750cc flathead BMW and sidecar. Zündapp also provided sidecar bikes to the Wehrmacht. And BMW also had a 600cc overhead valve model. Bill has a BMW with sidecar on display in this hall, but it’s a later model (note the overhead valve engine configuration).
A World War II BMW with sidecar.
Here’s another interesting military motorcycle: The 1946 500cc single-cylinder Moto Guzzi Alce. You wouldn’t think a motorcycle would be notable for its sidestand, but that’s one of the first things I noticed about it and Bill made the same comment. If you’ve ever tried to park a motorcycle in soft sand, you’ll know what this motorcycle is all about.
A 1946 Moto Guzzi Alce. It’s also the cover photo for this blog. Note the passenger handlebars.A macro shot of the Alce storage compartments.This is a serious kickstand. I could have used this in a few spots in Baja!
Harley-Davidson wandered into the military motorcycle world when they bought the Armstrong-CCM company in 1987. Armstrong had a 500cc single-cylinder Rotax-powered bike and Harley probably thought they would make a killing selling these to the US Army, but they were a day late and more than a dollar short. The Army had zero interest in gasoline-powered vehicles (the US Army has been 100% diesel powered for decades…I knew that when I was in the Army in the 1970s). The effort was quickly abandoned. That’s the bad news. The good news? The Harley MT 500 military bikes became instant collectibles. And Bill’s Old Bike Barn has one.
A Harley-Davidson MT-500. “MT” was an abbreviation for military transport; it more accurately was an acronym for sales results (as in “empty”).Interesting, but for Harley it was no cigar.
The military room also houses the Moto Guzzi Mulo Meccanico, and motorcycle half-track featured in an earlier ExNotes blog.
The Mulo Meccanico, a case study for why complexity for complexity’s sake always comes in second place. Intended to replace live mules in Italian Army service, the real donkeys had the last laugh. Or was it a hee haw?
The Mulo and the Alce military bike share real estate in Bill’s Old Bike Barn, along with commercial and very desirable Moto Guzzi non-military motorcycles. Here’s an early 1970s Moto Guzzi Ambassador.
A Moto Guzzi Ambassador from the early 1970s, when Bill was a Moto Guzzi dealer.
Bill’s Old Bike Barn includes what has to be the definitive Moto Guzzi motorcycle classic, the Falcone 500. In case you’ve ever wondered, it’s pronounced “fowl-cone-ay.” Fire engine red is a color that works well on Moto Guzzis.
A beautiful 1951 Moto Guzzi Falcone, also known as the baloney slicer for its exposed flywheel on the bike’s left side.A 1000cc Moto Guzzi sports bike.
One of the more unique “motorcycles” in Bills Old Bike Barn is a 1961 motorcycle-based dump truck. Bill kept it in its original unrestored condition for a number of years and used it to haul manure around on his farm (I used to write proposals in the defense industry, so Bill and I have that in common). Bill cleaned up the Guzzi dump truck, customized it with a show-worthy paint job, and made it too pretty to use. This is a three wheeler built around the same 500cc Falcone baloney-slicer motor shown above.
A Moto Guzzi trike dump truck. Gresh and I have a thing for three wheelers reaching back to our ride across China. Bill used this one for hauling manure around the farm.The Guzzi dump truck’s motorcycle underpinnings are obvious.Stunning by any standard.
So there you have it, folks. This is the last in our series of blogs about Bill’s Old Bike Barn. I enjoyed my visit to Bill’s more than I have to any other museum, partly because of the content and partly because of Bill. If you’re looking for a worthy destination and an experience like no other, Bill’s Old Bike Barn should be at the top of your list. I’d allow a full day for the visit, maybe with a break for lunch. We asked Bill for the best kept secret regarding Bloomsburg fine dining and his answer was immediate: The Scoreboard. It’s only a mile or two away and you can Waze your way there. Try the chili; it’s excellent.
There are six blogs in our series about Bill’s Old Bike Barn. Here’s a set of links to the first five:
Our first blog on Bill’s Old Bike Barn? Hey, here it is:
Today the ExNotes blog extends the tale of Bill’s Old Bike Barn and our continuing features on this magical mystery museum. I knew as soon as I entered Bill’s that a single blog would be entirely inadequate. Nope, this place is like peeling an onion; each layer reveals another story or three. Today’s feature is on two of Bill’s more interesting vehicles, and it was a tough call…everything in this Pennsylvania pleasure palace is interesting. But for today’s feature, the motorcycle half-tracks get the nod.
Bill with his Moto Guzzi Mulo Meccanico. Bill said riding the Mulo is a bear…there are levers and pedals and other things that require constant attention.
Motorcycle half-tracks? I mean, who’d a thought? They come across as the illegitimate offspring of a motorcycle and a Viagra-fueled armored vehicle. It’s a concept that just seems weird, like the designers were stoned when putting pencil to paper. Maybe it is and maybe they were.
The first of these moto half-tracks is the Kettenkrad. The Nazis created the Kettenkrad koncept at the beginning of World War II and it’s no secret the Übermenschen used a lot of what they called Pervitin (which was actually crystal meth) to stay, you know, amped up. That might explain some of the Kettenkrad’s design.
A Kettenkrad parked under the awning behind Bill’s Old Bike Barn. What were the engineers smoking?
I’d seen Kettenkrads in photos and World War II movies, but I’d never seen one in person until a very recent visit to the Lyon Air Museum (the topic of an ExNotes blog and a recent Motorcycle Classics Destinations piece). And wow, just a few months later, here’s another one.
The other moto half-track, the Moto Guzzi Mulo Meccanico, was new to me (I had never heard of it before my visit to Bill’s). It’s the machine you see in the cover photo above.
Bill has one of each: A Kettenkrad and a Mulo Meccanico. The Guzzi half-track holds a place of honor in Bill’s Guzziland display; the Kettenkrad rotates between museum display duties and residing among several military vehicles parked outside the Museum.
Although both are rare, of the two there are a lot more Kettenkrads. Both vehicles were designed specifically for military applications, but in different eras. The Kettenkrad was a 1939 Nazi project designed and built by NSU Werke AG at Neckarsulm, Germany. Originally designed as a paratrooper support vehicle, NSU built 8345 Kettenkrads (10% were built under license by Stower, another German manufacturer). Production stopped at the end of World War II, and then NSU resumed Kettenkrad manufacturing for agricultural applications through 1948.
The Nazi war machine used Kettenkrads extensively on the Russian front for ferrying supplies and troops. Some also saw duty in western Europe and North Africa. Toward the end of the war (and because of fuel shortages) Kettenkrads became airfield tugs (the Nazis used them to pull their airplanes to the runway; the Luftwaffe pilots only started their aircraft engines when they were ready to take off).
As a mechanical engineer, I always wondered if the Kettenkrad’s motorcycle front end actually steered the thing, or if the vehicle steered by driving the tracks at different speeds (as other tracked vehicles do). Talk about mechanical complexity…the Kettenkrad does both. Up to a point, the steering is via the handlebars and front wheel. Once the handlebars go beyond a certain angle, differential track speed steering kicks in. In really rough terrain, the Nazis removed the front wheel entirely and traveled only on the tracks. The Kettenkrad tops out at 44 mph, it has a 36-horsepower, inline, four-cylinder, water-cooled Opel engine, and it weighs 3,440 pounds (a little more than my Corvette).
Next up: The Moto Guzzi.
Wow, talk about mechanical complexity. Check out the front end: A brake, front-wheel drive gears, shafts, u-joints, single-sided fork, and more. The fender offers enough clearance to allow use of snow chains. I wonder what shop rates were back in the 1960s.
The Moto Guzzi Mulo Meccanico is a real oddity. Not only had I never seen one; I never knew such a thing even existed. There were only 200 ever made, and it all happened in the early 1960s. Built for the Italian Army (its official designation was the Autoveicolo Da Montagna, or mountain vehicle), Bill explained to me it was designed for hauling supplies over Alpine peaks. The Italians wanted something more modern to replace the donkeys they had been using (hence the unofficial name, the Mulo Meccanico).
The Italians have a thing for gated shifters. Before going to paddleshifters, Ferrari used the same approach.
The tracked Goose had a gated hand shifter on the right side of the thing that allowed the rider to select any of six forward speeds or reverse. A speedo is the only instrument; it was the Mulo’s single nod toward simplicity. Everything else was hopelessly complex.
You could run the Mulo Meccanico with or without treads. You could adjust the track (distance between the rear wheels) on the fly. You know, sometimes those Alpine goat trails get narrow.
The mechanical details and specs on the Guzzi half-track are both unusual and impressive, but ultimately, the all-too-common engineering mistake of injecting complexity where none was required doomed the Mulos. And wow, the Italian military had a complex set of requirements. The Mulo had to do everything a real donkey could do and then some. The Italian Army wanted to be able to adjust the rear track on the fly to suit narrow trail conditions, so Moto Guzzi designed that into these bikes. The Army wanted all wheels to be driven. Atsa no problem, the Guzzi guys said. The customer wants tracks, like Il Duce’s buddy had on the Kettenkrad? Si, Guzzi said; tracks could be added to the two rear drive wheels (as you see on Bill’s). A steering wheel will do nicely, they thought. And check out the front fork. It was way ahead of its time: Single-sided, a driven front wheel (the thing can actually climb a vertical surface, as you’ll see in the YouTube video below). It’s not hydraulic drive, either; there are shafts and gears and u-joints buried in all that mechanical complexity.
Moto Guzzi originally planned to use their 500cc single for these vehicles, but it wasn’t powerful enough. So Guzzi engineered a V-twin-powered half-ton half-track that could tow and haul a combined 1,100 pounds. The Mulo weighed about 2,200 pounds and had a top speed of 50 mph. Yee haw!
Patina raised to an exponent. Hey, it’s only original once! The future of Moto Guzzi motorcycles, the transverse V-twin engine, lies buried in amongst all that complexity.
What you see here is a camel designed by a committee (the Italian military-industrial complex tried to mechanically create a donkey). The only lasting things to come out of the effort were the famed Moto Guzzi transverse V-twin engine and a good story (that would be this one). The resulting mechanical camel intended to replace the mule died a quick and merciful death, but the engine went on in several iterations to power all subsequent Moto Guzzi motorcycles. Modern versions of the Mandello Del Lario motor power Moto Guzzis today, and the guys who ride Moto Guzzis (like my good buddy Dan) absolutely love them. I always wanted a Guzzi, but it’s an itch I haven’t scratched. Yet.
The Italian Army originally ordered 500 Mulos with deliveries starting in 1961. But the Guzzi’s complexity ran smack into that age-old engineering axiom (KISS, or Keep It Simple, Signore). The Moto Guzzi Mulo Meccanico was just too complicated, too difficult to operate, and too dangerous. The real donkeys could get through those mountain passes just fine and the Mulos could not. In 1963 production stopped after only 200 units. The Army literally went back to donkeys. The real ones.
Hee haw.
One more thing I thought you might enjoy: I found a couple of YouTube videos showing both moto half-tracks, the Kettenkrad and the Mulo Meccanico, in action. The folks in the videos seem to be having fun.
Bill Morris is the real deal, and Bill’s Old Bike Barn is one of the most interesting motorcycle museums I’ve ever visited. We’re doing on a series on the man and the museum, and this is our third installment in that series. You can see the first two below.
Miss our first installment on Bill’s Old Bike Barn? Hey, here it is:
Military motorcycle half-tracks? You bet!
