Wild, Woolly Mammut

In terms of present-day standards, a 1,000cc motorcycle hardly merits so much as a raised eyebrow. Neither, for that matter, does a bike that can sprint to 60 mph in less than five seconds and max out at nearly 110 mph. The streets are full of motorcycles that equal—or better—any or all of those numbers. Even the final evolution of this particular machine might not garner much attention among modern riders, at least on the basis of performance: By the time the last example was completed, 36 years after the first prototype, its powerplant had been stretched to twice the original displacement, and an electronic limiter was required to keep top speed down to 156 mph.

But a motorcycle carrying an automobile’s engine between its frame tubes is almost certain to draw stares. Such devices are uncommon enough to be considered novelties, and for good reason: Unlike motorcycle engines, which can and have been adapted to ultra-small cars (some European microcars from the early and mid-1950s) those designed for four-wheel use tend to be too bulky and heavy for two-wheel applications. Big engine equals big motorcycle; people notice that.

The Münch Mammut was certainly an attention-getter. It did indeed get its motive power from the automobile world, and thus was certainly big. Mammuts are seldom seen, with fewer than 500 built between 1966 and 2002, of which some 250 are known to exist today. Of those, perhaps 50 have made the journey from their German birthplace to North America. (Click image to enlarge)

Mammut is the German word for “mammoth.” The image of the hairy, sharp-tusked elephant painted on the tank of the original 500-pound prototype was entirely appropriate; despite prodigious use of light metals in their construction, production Mammuts gained weight over the years, topping out at nearly 700 lbs. Even though only the first of Münch’s monster bikes officially carried the Mammut moniker (a German bicycle maker had trademarked it, and wouldn’t cede the rights to Münch), the name stuck and, whether officially badged as Münch-4s, Horex Titans or, at the very end, Münch Mammut 2000s, all were indeed mammoth, in fact if not in name.

It was a wild and woolly beast on the road, too. One rider, a former motorcycle racer who put some miles on the first Mammut to reach California in 1967, reported that it was unwieldy, somewhat top-heavy and reluctant to either maintain or deviate from a straight line. By way of compensation, it was sensationally fast for the time. The rider was impressed. And, to some extent, intimidated.

Such iconoclastic machines are almost never the work of major manufacturers, and the Mammut is no exception. It sprang from the fertile mind of Friedel Münch, a young mechanic and former racer then living in the small German town of Nieder-Florstadt. Branding him a “mechanic” is perhaps to do Münch a disservice. His skills, learned in technical school and at work in his father’s automobile/motorcycle repair shop, went far beyond wrench-twisting. He was equally adept with machine tools and at the drawing board.

Münch’s weekdays were filled with repair work, but in his spare time he was intensely involved with racing motorcycles. Though no longer a racer himself, he built and maintained bikes for others with enough success that he was invited to go to work for Horex, then a major German motorcycle manufacturer. He joined their research and development department in 1954. Though he stayed there for only a year before returning to work at his father’s garage, Münch maintained close contact with Horex, purchasing the tooling for their 500cc powerplant, along with a large quantity of spare parts, when the company went out of business in 1958. His intention was to build a new high-performance motorcycle around the proven powerplant.

Without backers, and not being wealthy himself, Münch’s project progressed slowly, and it was not until 1965 that construction of a prototype was nearing completion. But the Münch-Horex was destined not to be. An old friend dropped by the workshop to visit Münch and everything changed.

The friend was driving a brand new NSU Prinz 1000 automobile. While looking it over, Münch realized that the all-aluminum, light-alloy Prinz engine, shorn of its cooling fan and ducting, could fit in the frame he was preparing to take the smaller Horex unit. Already tested and in mass production, this engine would develop more power and cost less than the 500cc twin. By early 1966, Münch had completed his first NSU-powered prototype.

It caused an immediate sensation. After a German motorcycle magazine published an introductory article, enquiries flooded into Münch’s shop. At a time when few bikes had engines larger than 500cc and even fewer could cruise at more than 100 mph, a high-speed machine that could eat up the miles on the autobahn in relatively lazy fashion was unique and desirable. Encouraged by the response, Münch constructed the first production version for display at that year’s Cologne motorcycle show.


This is what 2.0 liters of automobile engine looks like in a motorcycle. (Click image to enlarge)

Not only did the new Münch creation draw crowds, and orders, but it also caught the eye of one Floyd Clymer, an eccentric publisher from California. Long before Clymer made his name with automotive books, he had been a successful motorcycle racer, and the two-wheel fever remained with him. He proposed a partnership in which he would become the U.S. distributor and put some money into the operation, and Münch accepted.

There were, nonetheless, problems. Not only did Münch have his only workshop in which to build the Mammut renamed “Münch-4” for trademark reasons, but his passion for building an ideal machine led him to create too many unique parts for it. Casting after casting, all complex, lightweight, expensive Elektron alloy, and all requiring extensive finishing, made for an expensive product. In the beginning, even the front fork and brakes were Münch designs.

Then, in 1970, Clymer fell ill and died. His stake in the Münch firm went to George Bell, another American, who arrived in Germany with a wide-open checkbook and some grandiose ideas. A new factory was built, and employees were hired. Mammuts trickled out of the new factory, while Münch and Bell made plans for a second, smaller machine to sell alongside the Mammut, and put together a racing team.

But Bell had been financing the operation with an inheritance that was not open-ended. He soon bailed out, and a succession of new owners tried to keep the company afloat. Münch was involved for a time, constantly updating the basic design by improving various components, increasing engine displacement and power and supervising construction of a few custom Mammuts. In time, one of the new owners ended up with the rights to the Münch name, and Friedel Münch went off on his own, repairing existing Mammuts and building a few new ones, now called Horex Titans, in honor of the company that gave young Münch his start, to special order. The NSU engine remained the heart of the late Mammuts, but more and more bespoke parts were required as fuel injection, turbocharging and even larger displacements—finally a full 2.0 liters, which produced 260 bhp in turbo form—were added.

In the end, Münch grew old, and was unable to continue even his limited work. A final owner, Thomas Petsch, took over the operation and announced the availability of the Mammut 2000, the ultimate member of the line, certainly the most high-tech and high-speed Münch ever produced. But, perhaps inevitably, the Mammut 2000 proved to be a true Münch motorcycle, each example built costing Petsch almost twice what he could charge for it. Production ended—probably for the last time—in 2002.

Despite all the problems, there is a fascination about the Mammut that puts it far above most mass-produced motorcycles on the desirability scale. It’s rare, of course, and that lures collectors. And it represents, as does an early Ferrari, the work of an individualist who resolutely went his own way. But it is also something of a technological marvel. Münch pioneered the use of a cast-alloy rear wheel on bikes when he discovered that the torque output of his prototype inflicted too much strain on a regular wire wheel, and may have been the first to use fuel injection on road bikes.

Most of all, any Münch represents the kind of challenge to a rider that few who have a chance to climb aboard would wish to resist: Make a Mammut perform to its full potential, and you have tamed a wild and woolly beast indeed.

There will never be another bike even remotely like it.

www.muench-mammut-2000.com