Cossack Owners Club

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 From: Mechanics & The Biker Magazine April 1983

"It isn't a BMW, is it?" but it's good for collecting the shopping and startling unsuspecting passengers

It isn't fair to say that the Neval MT10 is unduly noisy. It doesn't actually clatter and clank as it rolls irresistibly on; but it sounds as if it's going to. If you were planning to sweep invading hordes from the Steppes, you might well do it on one of these.

There is an air of lost majesty about it, commanding heads to turn as it rumbles ponderously through the high street. And, as it enters the sphere of your own consciousness, you instinctively know that this isn't just another loophole-learner.

After the Neval comes to rest, with a sigh and a light hiss, some of the turned heads leave a decent interval and then, in towered tones, venture suitable reverences, like, "It isn't a BMW, is it?"

They step back deferentially as the 650 twin engages a gear and pulls away. And if it happens to be reverse gear the deference is doubled in both quantity and speed.

There is nothing exactly new about this descendant of the military-type Russian out­fits, the shaft-drive twins and open sidecars have been around for some time, although the UK importers now make many major changes to the raw bikes before selling them.

The engine is stripped and rebuilt with new shell big-ends, pistons and rings. The bores are honed to suit and new valves, guides and springs are fitted. A single, 38mm SU carburettor is fitted while the contact-breaker ignition is modified, using Bosch breakers and a Nippon Denso coil.

Instrumentation is, to say the least, crude. The speedo was a long way out.

A Japanese 12V battery is installed along with new electrical switches and an electric rev counter.

New wheels are built up, using Spanish alloy rims — all three are interchangeable and a spare is carried on the back of the sidecar. Avon 19 inch sidecar tyres are fitted. Finally a new brake cable to operate the twin-leading shoe drum brake is added and the outfit is ready for UK consumption.

At £1459, all taxes paid, it is far from cheap and the price is easily enough to make you stop and think very hard about the MT10. But from this point onwards, you're on your own sidecars are different things to diffe­rent people. Logically there isn't much to be said for them and the safety angle isn't that convincing; practically everyone I know has crashed outfits with varying degrees of suc­cess. Half of them now refuse to go anywhere near the things and the other half admit to a perverse attraction which defeats reason.

Many   internal   engine   parts   are replaced by  the  UK importers before  the machine is sold, to improve quality

I think I've got the answer, though. If motor­cycling can be likened to a nice, bracing walk along the cliff-tops, most people are happy to wander along and enjoy the view but there will always be a few who have to go and look over the edge . . .

In this sense, the Neval is more attractive than most; I confess to a sneaking admiration for anything which is purpose-built and it is tempting to describe the Neval as one of the best outfits in the world on the grounds that it is one of the few machines which would not be measurably better if the sidecar were re­moved. It is also a winner if you happen not to like the smell of glass reinforced plastic.

The sidecar, with its deeply padded seat was thought to be comfortable by everyone who was persuaded into it. Without a roof it was draughty for the passenger, who would also get wet if it rained, although the screen did a reasonably good job of deflecting the wind. Passengers do not legally need a helmet, but in this outfit they would probably prefer to use one just for protection against the weather.

There is a tonneau cover which kept rain out of the chair and the back of the seat can be lifted out to reveal a useful luggage compart­ment. The battery and comprehensive tool kit also live in here.

Comfort for the rider was good, the hand lever position giving the right leverage for the kind of forces needed to steer the outfit. The suspension is fairly rudimentary but the weighty machine managed to soak up road bumps without transmitting too much move­ment to the rider.

Front brake is overworked.		Controls are a touch crude and the switchgear is flimsy. Note parking brake.

The thing that spoiled the MT10 was the crudity of the controls; the difficult to reach switches and the lack of slick action in the mechanical linkages. The gearshift was clunky, the brakes lacked feel, the rear brake pedal was awkwardly positioned, the long action throttle was heavy and the mirror re­vealed very little of what was going on behind the bike.

During the course of the test the front, right indicator would only work after it had been thumped, one tail light failed, the brake lights sometimes stuck on and the master light switch failed. Nothing too serious, perhaps, but annoying when little faults like this seem to recur every other day.

Similarly, the outward swing of the kickstart took it on a trajectory which threaded a narrow path between the sidecar struts. Starting was literally a bit hit or miss, mainly because of the risk of a toe, ankle or shin colliding with the chassis structure. The problem was solved by wearing enduro boots with steel tips.

Once the engine had warmed up, the idling from the single SU could be a bit erratic and the motor would often stall, unless the rider was ready to tweak the throttle slightly whenever the speed faltered. Once under way the response and pick-up was good. The mak­ers only claim 36 horsepower at 5600rpm, so the performance of the 740lb outfit was obviously in a totally different order to that of big solos.

Nevertheless it would trundle along quite happily at 60mph and would reach something close to 70 in the right conditions. The motor would pull strongly from around 2000 but it really could use more top-end power, not necessarily to be able to go faster but just to hold its own against adverse road conditions. With a slight tail-wind the bike was so much better to ride and could cruise along with no effort; against the wind, it felt like the bike was really struggling.

Sidecar offers both room and comfort.

This machine had the "solo" gearing which is a bit too high for it and to hold speed up hills it needs a ratio somewhere between third and fourth. The gear shift pedal also operates the clutch, although there doesn't seem to be any particular need for this. Occasionally the gears would slip out into a false neutral after chang­ing down and pretty well all gear changing had to be made slowly and carefully. Reverse gear, which is selected by a separate fever on the right side of the gearbox, is (a) great fun, (b) very useful for getting out of parking slots, ditches, etc, and (c) very good for startling unsuspecting passengers.

Through most of the bike's speed range the steering was fairly neutral and stable, with none of the handlebar flapping that accompa­nies many sidecars. Even when a full chair load was carried, it didn't get unduly heavy to steer, although braking took noticeably more effort.

This outfit is very good at staying level in left-handers and needed a lot less concentration than most other combinations that I've ridden. In right-handers it was a bit too easy to go in too fast and make the rear wheel go light, resulting in steering which was very sensitive to the throttle. If nothing else, it made low speed manoeuvrability something which had to be seen to be believed.

The performance of the Avon tyres could be entertaining in the wet and they would slide easily in the dry, too, although it's a lot better have a machine which will slide before it rolls. The surprising thing is that despite the abuse they appeared to be taking, the tyres showed no visible signs of wear.

General handling and stability were above average for sidecars, manoeuvrability was superb, and assisted by the reverse gear, has to be among the best of its kind. Braking is only average — and in sidecar terms that means pretty damn poor. The two drum brakes just don't have the muscle to match close on half a ton of Neval and payload trying to descend from something in excess of 55mph.

Under hard braking there was a mild tendency for the outfit to yaw, but it could be held on a straight enough course without any trouble.

It meant that — as with the engine — a leisurely pace was enforced on the rider, but then high averages have never been a     criterion for this kind of transport. Good fuel economy, on the other hand, is something worth aiming at and one reason that the Russian engine wears an SU carburettor is so that it can combine reasonable power with good economy. By sidecar standards it is about average; we recorded mid-30s most of the time, and got around 140 miles to the tank full. That was after correcting the odometer which is driven from the gearbox and hadn't been told that the final drive gear had been changed. Consequently it was reading 24 per cent low, while the speedo was 20 per cent low,

This fuel consumption is nothing special; the best I saw was 41 mpg which is about what we get from big-engined outfits, but doesn't compare with the (cheaper) 250 Kawasaki and Squire which gave around 60mpg and the same top speed as the Neval. Despite an obvious weight penalty, the MT10 was quicker through the quarter mile, taking 18.7 seconds and beating the 250 by almost 2 seconds.

So there you have it. Logically it doesn't add up to much — but despite all the shortcomings I thoroughly enjoyed using the Neval. Apart from the fact that I could get a whole week's shopping into it, I'm still not sure what I liked about it. Perhaps it was just different. And fun. After all, what's the point in walking along the cliff-tops if you can't go and look over the edge?

** The Importer, Neval Motorcycles no longer trade and the address no longer exists, so please do not try and contact. This article was written in 1983 - Cossack Owners Club