Laverda 1000 3C
Laverda 1000 3C
. .So now you're thinking, "Wow! Clever MassimoLaverda should be able to sell thousands of the things." Indeed he should, butprobably he won't. You see, the Laverda has a fatal flaw, which is its price.There's no firm figure, but the United States importers say it will be about$3000 and that's a cool thousand too much. Considered strictly on merit, theLaverda is a semi-rational alternative to Kawasaki's 903cc, four-cylinder Z-1:close for speed, not nearly as refined or smooth but better-handling. If youstop comparing right there you'd be faced with a hard choice. That extra grandjust about eliminates the Laverda from consideration for all but Italiaphilichigh-rollers, which is a pity because in most respects the triple is anextraordinarily good motorcycle.
Traditionally Italian engineering has had atendency to founder in a sticky passion for symmetry.. There have been manyinstances of engines designed as mirror images along both vertical planes, withcam drives originating right from the middle of the crankshaft and absolutelyidentical valves and ports on both the intake and exhaust sides of the head. Allthis in an emotional defiance of logic's stern laws. There was no reason for usto assume that Laverda would have avoided that trap with the 1000cc triple, orto have been innovative in any way. The only other Laverda we'd seen was the 750twin, which visually is a photostatic enlargement of the old Honda CB-77. So weweren't expecting much more excitement from the triple than would be provided bysheer displacement (a factor not to be ignored: 61 cubic inches just won't takeno for an answer even if its container isn't so brilliantly contrived).
In fact, Laverda's three-cylinder engine provesto be quite an imaginative piece of work. It contains, for example, a reallyelegant solution to the severe rocking vibration present in other inlinetriples. In the others the crankpins are disposed at 120 degrees, which givesreasonably evenly spaced power impulses but a tendency to teeter-totter alongits longitudinal axis. In the Laverda triple, when the number-one crankpin is aTDC, number-two is down at BDC and number-three is up at TDC. In other wordsit's like a British vertical twin, with an extra cylinder inserted in the middleand working 180 degrees out of phase. In this arrangement the unbalanced forcesare of a magnitude approximately equal to those in a 333cc single, but arereacting into such a large mass that relatively little shaking is transmittedinto the Laverda's frame. Except at low engine speeds when it feels and soundslike a four with a fouled plug.
The Laverda's ignition system is as offbeat asits firing order, and makes the same surprising kind of sense. Hidden away underthe tank you'll find three coils, as expected, but they're wired together in away that makes you almost believe half the laws of electricity have beenrepealed. These wires disappear into a pair of multiblade connectors andreappear down at an even more mystifying device on the righthand end of thecrankshaft. Lacking the special puller needed to remove the magnetized flywheelshrouding the coils, we could only glimpse through holes in the flywheel's hub.It was impossible to trace all the circuitry and the owner's manual (in Italian)wasn't much help. But from what we could see the Laverda's Bosch ignition systembasically is an energy transfer magneto, but with magnetic triggering instead ofmechanical points. Being crank-speed driven, it delivers a waste spark at theend of each exhaust stroke.
However this Bosch ignition works, it doesdeliver a magnificent spark and should need attention only infrequently. Still,it does have one shortcoming: its ability to produce sparks is in no waycontrolled by the key—only by a kill-button on the handlebar. The key itselfactivates the main electrical system when it's pushed in, making it possible topush-button start the engine, and twisting the key turns on the lights. That'sall. You can push the Laverda and start it anytime, with or without a key—adistressing state of affairs for a hyper-expensive motorcycle in a world filledwith rip-off artists. The Laverda owner's only protection against outlawexpropriations is a brass fork lock that seems fated to snap if unknown partiestrouble themselves to pull hard at the handlebars.
No amount of hauling at the handlebars is goingto bend or even flex the Laverda's frame. This frame is fairly conventional withrespect to layout, consisting of twin cradle tubes sweeping from the steeringhead, under the engine, and back up to the rear shock mountings, with a largebackbone tube over the engine and smaller miscellaneous tubes bracing some ofthe corners. What you don't see, just looking at the bike, is that the backbonetube is almost two inches in diameter, and all the tubing is of waterpipe gauge.There are a couple of exposed tube ends where it is possible to measure wallthickness, and at those points it is .120-inch. Given enough sheer iron, a framedoesn't need to be brilliantly designed to provide the rigidity required forgood handling, as is precisely the case with the Laverda, and was true of therevered Manx Norton. There's enough iron in the Laverda's frame to providematerial for a railroad bridge across the Tiber, and it doesn't flex.
Attached to this very solid structure is a set ofgenuine, racing Ceriani forks and touring (but effective) Ceriani shocks. Andyou'll discover almost instantly in riding the Laverda that spring rates,suspension damping and steering geometry all are aimed dead-center at fastmountain road cruising. At low speeds the ride is quite stiff, almost jolting,and the steering is decidedly heavy. You could learn to dislike the Laverda 1000if you were forced to ride it around town very long.
Where the Laverda really lives is up in thehills, on swoopy roads. There the tall first gear becomes a convenience (itleads to a lot of clutch feathering in slow traffic) for hairpin turns, and theeven staging of the other four ratios gives you a gear for every situation. Notthat there is any need to pedal the Laverda around with the gear lever. Itsengine has a lot of displacement, and makes excellent use of what it has,producing thunderous horsepower over a broad range and without a trace oftemperament. Add to that the bike's good balance, which keeps it from trying towheelie over backWards, and you've got an absolute rocketship for attackingmountain grades.
There's a possibility that the Laverda 1000 willbe getting a disc brake to replace the present twin leading shoe drum brake.We're not sure that's necessary. The bike's drums are 230mm (slightly over 9inches) in diameter, massive alloy castings with iron liners, and have cast-inventilation passages to hold things down to a working temperature even afterrepeated hard applications.
Front and rear, the brake drums and wheels areidentical, with different backing plates and covers to adapt them to theirrespective tasks. Laverda has, in this way, shown great cleverness in minimizingtooling costs, and we can admire that. Even so, the really admirable aspect ofthe bike's brakes is that they work extremely well. A finer touch is needed tohold the front brake just short of lockup than for most disc brakes, but it'snothing the average rider can't handle, and if there's any danger it will befrom behind: only a very few cars, or motorcycles, will stop as quickly as theLaverda.
Some of the Laverda's stopping capability shouldbe credited to its Dunlop tires. These are 4.10 x 18 K81s, and they're thenearest thing to outright road racing tires we've seen. They may not be good fora jillion miles of Interstate cruising, like some of these hockey puck tires youcan buy for $9.95 and a fistful of boxtops (we think maybe the rubber is toosoft to be longlasting) but while they last they get a grip on the road likenothing else in the sport.
The Dunlop tires also help make the Laverda a joyto flog around corners. They stick, and the chassis doesn't wiggle, so you canjust go at it in a frenzy. The absolute test of handling is a very fast butdecreasing radius esse-bend, which forces you to wrestle the bike from left toright while braking, or at least on trailing throttle. A lot of the otherSuperbikes become distinctly and unpleasantly unsuper in such modes, with theirframes magically transformed from steel to rubber. The Laverda, by contrast,remains rock solid, and lets you press your luck pretty far before visions ofgauze, plaster and liniment begin to dance in your head.
It's a lot more fun to ride the Laverda fast thansensibly. The bike's long tank, rear-set seat and footpegs and flat bars insistthat it be ridden in a kind of modified road racer's crouch. At brisk (that isto say illegal) speeds the wind pushing at your torso takes the load off yourarms, but riding around town you'll start feeling a little like a man caughthalfway through a pushup.
Our test bike wasn't much good as anight-fighter, except for someone whose favorite tactic is sneaking up behindother vehicles. Despite having a Bosch electrical system and the biggest batteryever seen on anything this side of a police motorcycle, the Laverda's headlightpumped out only scarcely more lumens than you'd need to read your watch. Itwasn't nearly bright enough to make anyone comfortable about any great rate ofspeed, even considering the effectiveness of the bike's brakes. Probably thisshortage of illumination was due to some kind of live-voltage problem peculiarto this single motorcycle, as Bosch electrics enjoy a well-deserved reputationfor quality and performance. But we're not sure. If a fully charged batterywould have brought the headlight up to standard, a similar strengthening of thesound output from the horns would have made them absolutely dangerous. TheLaverda has two Voxbell horns, and they put out enough noise to give a truckdriver hives.
No provision has been made for any kind of kickstarter on the Laverda, and that's just fine. We are inclined to think that theprevalence of kick starters on electric-start motorcycles is more a nod toconservatism than logic, because if a bike's battery is too flat for theelectric starter to work, its ignition usually will be weak enough to requirepushing anyway. We think the kick pedal on motorcycles will go the way of cranksfor automobiles. Certainly the Laverda's 27 amp-hour battery will have to be atdeath's door before you'll have to worry about alternative methods of starting.
If appearance counts for anything, the Laverda'sclutch isn't ever going to give anyone trouble. It has more diameter, moreplates and stronger springs than just about any we've seen, and although it wasbrutalized by various of our test riders, it never slipped (unless the rider wasdoing a showy "Manx Norton" burnout and feathering the lever) and never neededadjustment. With all this it also is a very light (in pounds) clutch, beingbuilt inside an alloy outer housing and with thin, light plates—which by theway, make their engagement with the hub and housing through many small V-teeth,instead of the usual coarse dogs. The arrangement is familiar to anyone who hasever seen the clutches inside an automatic transmission, where it is usedbecause it is simply more durable than any other.
Clutch action never is exactly light on bigdisplacement motorcycles (except the H-D big twins), and the Laverda hasn'tbroken with the tradition. Its clutch lever requires a fine, manly grip, (onethat would impress everyone at the Yale Club), and after a day of riding theswitchbacks and fanning the lever you're well on your way to having a left armlike a young Charley Atlas.
Have no fear that your right arm will be allowedto languish unexercised. You can count on the brake lever for some muscletoning, but it will be the throttle that really keeps the old tendons taut.
The Laverda has three 32mm Dell'Orto carburetors,and the return springs inside these make it clear that Dell'Orto, as a company,fears stuck throttle slides worse than Satan fears the True Cross. The throttlereturn springs are that strong, and trying to blip the engine fordownshifts—squeezing the brake lever and rolling the throttle with the heel ofyour hand—would be hopeless, instead of merely difficult, but for the Dell'Ortocarburetors' other outstanding feature. Each has an accelerator pump, and theengine gets a shot of fuel that really brings it snapping to attention even ifthe throttle is just sort of fumbled open. We had despaired of any other countrycreating a carburetor equal to Japan's Mikuni and Keihin. Indications are, thatin this new carburetor, Italy may have done it.
Our suggestions for improving the Laverda havemostly to do with subtleties: one thing we'd like to see is a sidestand, as it'sa pain in the neck (and back, and arms) to have to heave the weighty rascal upon its centerstand every time you want to walk away from it for a minute. But wedon't want a sidestand if the thing is going to drag when the Laverda's crankedover into a corner. Cornering is something the bike does better than any of itscompetition, and who wants to diminish that capability just to make parkingeasier? Better they should fiddle with the centerstand to make it retract a tadhigher, as it now graunches when the bike is heeled over unless the rear springsetting is up at full-preload.
Similarly we're not sure Laverda should alter thehandlebars, tank and seat position to make the bike more comfortable around townif doing so will compromise its high speed cruising. But if the seat is going tostay where it is, the footpegs should be repositioned another couple of inchesaft. Then it would feel even more like the closet road racer it is.
It seems tragic to us that the Laverda 1000should be doomed by circumstance to relative obscurity in the United Statesmarketplace. It is, despite a few small and easily corrected flaws, atremendously fine motorcycle. The three-cylinder engine isn't as smooth as agood four, but it's narrower and with all that displacement and twin overheadcamshafts, it isn't giving away anything in horsepower. Handling? Most of theothers aren't in the same league. Few people will ever be enthralled with theLaverda's fiberglass tank and stainless steel fenders, not to mention a lot ofunpolished, sand-cast aluminum, but the primary quality is excellent. There'snothing basically shoddy anywhere.
The same qualifications would absolutelyguarantee success for any major manufacturer's product, but they're not going todo much for the Laverda. As it happens, Massimo Laverda's main business ismaking farm equipment; motorcycles are just a sideline. So the Laverda factoryhasn't the production capacity to turn out many of these Superbikes, and becauseit can make only relatively few, a lot of unhappy consequences follow. Toolingcosts, such as they are, work out to be a lot of dollars per unit produced,which raises the cost. And knowing that few motorcycles are to be built, Laverdamust take a healthy profit on each or the whole thing isn't worth theinvestment. Distributors and importers inevitably come to the same conclusion,which prices an already expensive motorcycle even higher. After the dealer doesthe same the price is enough to bring tears. In the Laverda's case the situationis made even more dismal by the fact that the United States importer-presumptivedoesn't think it has a chance, and the people angling to get their hands on theUS franchise think its prospects of selling more than mere dozens are slenderand its future almost non-existent.
So why doesn't Laverda (among other Italianmanufacturers) just tool up to build thousands and thousands of 1000cc triples?The answer is that things just don't work that way in Italy. There is nooverriding concern for marketplaces, and there are no legions of marketingexperts scurrying around the world's motorcycle markets trying to determine ifroom exists for a half-million projected new units. Italians are not Japaneseand not Americans. In Italy, business is not life; life is life. Buildingspecific products for specific markets is a concept which, though not alien toItalians, is an uncomfortable one. Italians build products which they like—thenthey go about finding customers.
To the Anglo-Saxon mind, all of this "we build'em the way we love 'em" stuff signals a grand indifference toward things whichAmericans hold dear: numbers, prices, profits and the American market. That'swhy Ferraris have ripply body panels, and why Laverdas cost $3000.
The next question: is the Laverda worth $3000?The answer is no—if you use a 903cc Kawasaki as the standard of measure. The Z-1is the obvious, unavoidable comparison. For someone who has three grand to dropon a motorcycle, the comparison probably isn't important. For example, a Datsun240Z as a machine may do the same things that a Mercedes-Benz 450SL will do.Except for one big consideration. The fellow who buys a 450SL probably wouldn'town a Z-car on a bet. Which is to say: mechanical things may have the samecapabilities, but they can still be in different leagues.
But a healthy price should mean no rough edges indetailing. And like other Italian machines, the Laverda's quality in the paintdepartment, the fiberglass work, and other small details remain behind the timesand below the price tag.
We might mention how the first Laverda 1000 inNorth America fell into our hands. Tom Lester in Bedford Heights, Ohio is anautomobile and motorcycle enthusiast of enormous passion. A clue about hisenthusiasm: one of his businesses is the Lester Tire Company which builds tiresfor classic cars.
A second clue: Lester bought the 1000 sightunseen, out of Canada, on the strength of Laverda's reputation. He asked us ifwe wanted to test the machine. And you know what our reply was.
So there the 1000 stands, cramped in Italy by itsmanufacturer's reluctance to produce it and its brothers in volume, and doomedin the United States by its high price and a lack of enthusiasm on the part ofits importer. If Massimo Laverda decided to bite the financial bullet bycommitting himself to volume production, and if the US importer, whoever itturns out to be, pushed a little for the brilliant 1000, then in all likelihoodthe bike could be sold in quantity for maybe $2300, making a huge number on bothsides of the price tag ecstatic.
Then American enthusiasts could have the best oftwo worlds: a fresh Old World version of the Superbike concept with amade-in-the-Orient price sticker.
But it's a good bet that it'll never happen. Whata damnable shame.
Source Cycle 1973