Laverda 1200 America
Laverda 1200 America
.Scratch any street rider in Italy and you'll finda Giacomo Agostini seething beneath the surface. Scratch his Italian street bikeand you'll find a spirited roadracer lurking inside.
It's no wonder then, that despite not beingtechnological front-runners, Italian motorcycles are able to arouse one'spassions while going around corners. An Italobike may have a high-density seat,brutal suspension, numbing vibration and a price debilitating to all but thefattest of wallets, but you can bet your bottom Lira that it will dart over thetwisty sections of blacktop like a slot car and make the raciest noises thisside of a Grand Prix track.
The Laverda Jota America 1200 is a perfectexample. It is an exciting, highly emotional motorcycle that is thrilling toride, fun to corner and stimulating just to be near, even though making it workis a high-effort proposition. On a Jota, you are a 100-percent participant, nota lifeless body just along for the ride. All the controls, whether worked byhand or by foot, require deliberate, forceful manipulation. Low-speed steeringborders on the strenuous, yet at high speeds, handlebar movements must bedelicate to prevent rider-induced twitches. And the rudeness of the seat andsuspension will test the perseverence of even the most butt-calloused riders ontrips of 100 miles or more.
But creature comforts are not the stock and tradeof the Laverda; emotion and excitement are, beginning with the 1116cc, DOHCthree-cylinder engine. When the cold-start mixture enricheners on the trio of32mm Dell'Orto accelerator-pump carbs are engaged, the big triple roars to lifeat the touch of the electric-start button. The Jota then settles into a staccatoidle—a hammering, fast-paced booming of exhaust racket that, in cadence if notin volume, is something you'd expect to hear coming from the loud end of aAA/Fuel dragster, not from a mere three-cylinder street motorcycle. In thatwarm-up idling mode, the 1200 sounds as if it's able to consume the quarter-milein about five seconds, which is about seven and a half seconds faster than thebike can really manage.
Once up to operating temperature, the Laverdastill sounds radical. Although the machine-gun idle goes away once theenricheners are turned off, a sundry selection of mechanical tickings andwhirrings continues to at least imply raciness. But it is the raspy, high-strungexhaust note, playing in harmony with an uncommonly deep, resonating intakeroar, that endows the 1200 with a symphony of sound unmatched by any othersuperbike.
The unique sound of the Jota's engine is aby-product of its odd crankshaft design. While developing the original 1000cctriple several years ago, Laverda's engineers experimented with conventional120-degree three-cylinder crankshafts. But they finally settled on an unusual(for a triple) 180-degree "flat" crank, where the two outside pistons move upand down in unison, firing on alternate revolutions. The center cylinder's crankpin is offset 180 degrees from the other two, producing a firing sequence likethat of an inline four with the No. 3 spark plug disconnected. The sequence istherefore uneven, with two firings occurring at 180-degree intervals and thethird after a 360-degree interval.
The flat crank helps eliminate arocking-couple-induced vibration present in engines having 120-degree cranks,but secondary vibrations, which just about cancel out one another in a120-degree layout, are intensified with the 180 crank. Laverda claims to haveextracted more usable power from the triple with the 180, but we'd guess thatthe full-race exhaust note furnished by the flat crank greatly influenced itsselection for the triple.
The Jota America is a lower-compression,5mm-overbored version of the 1000cc Laverda Threes. And while the added 135cchaven't markedly boosted acceleration, the extra displacement helps the 1200meet current EPA emissions regulations while maintaining the same level of highperformance established by the 1000.
The America's quarter-mile times, respectable asthey might be (12.54 seconds 105.0 mph), clearly reveal that the world'sbiggest-engined superbike is indeed neither the quickest nor the fastest. Whichbrings us right back to the Italian mystique once again: Drag racing is notall-important in Italy; roadracing is. Translation: A Laverda 1200 won'tout-drag the likes of a Honda Six or a Yamaha 1100 on a dragstrip, but if youlure those same bikes onto a choice piece of winding mountain two-lane you'llteach them a lesson they won't soon forget. When the going gets twisted, theJota America mirrors the pavement-scratching priorities of its creators in bothpower and handling.
The 1200 feeds a massive dose of midrange torquethrough five well-staged gear ratios, providing usable power and snappy responsein every normal cornering situation. The engine/gearbox match-up is socompatible that the selection of gears while briskly unwinding a crooked roadisn't critical. Only when you're trying to make record time on that stretch ofcorner-laden blacktop is the right gear at precisely the right rpm of anyimport.
When one of those mad asphalt dashes is inprogress and you've put on your Sunday-best race face, it pays to have achassis' that measures up to the engine. And the Laverda's does, at least withinthe limits of the cornering speeds you can attain on the road. The America justloves to be laid over into turns of all types, so it feels reassuringly stableand completely at home when the horizon begins to look more like the vertical.In addition, the Dunlop TT100 tires (they're called K81s on this side of ThePond) earn their keep when the lean angles get really racy by keeping both endsof the 1200 from stepping out of line.
The Jota America may be the largest-displacementsuperbike of all, but with a comparatively low center of gravity for its 518pounds, the 1200 triple physically feels—and is—no bulkier than the best 750fours. The most conspicuous asset of such compactness is the ease with which theLaverda will bank over into a turn or flip from side to side in fast esses. Evenduring reasonably hard braking, the bike exhibits little tendency to sit up orotherwise resist being leaned over. Conversely, tapping the brake or closing thethrottle while rushing through a turn doesn't cause the big Jota to drop inwardand tighten up its line.
The 1200 has an extremely narrow basic engineconfiguration, even for a triple, which helps account for the bike's low centerof gravity. The engine's slenderness permits it to sit fairly low in the chassiscompared to the location of the average four-cylinder engine. When you're seatedon the bike, no part of the cylinder or head can be seen protruding from underthe 5.1-gallon gas tank, which in itself is unusually slim by current big-bikestandards. Only the thin cover for the triplex-chain primary drive is visible onthe left, but it's a different story on the right, where a massive housingenclosing the 140-watt Bosch AC generator hangs out from the main case.
Were it not for that generator-case appendagewhich pokes out into the wind just as far as the right footpeg, the engine couldeasily have been set even lower in the frame, further dropping the Jota's centerof gravity. As it is, cornering clearance is still quite acceptable, with thesidestand and centerstand being the first things to graunch on the left and thegenerator cover obviously the first to touch down on the right.
The Laverda's suspension pieces are crafted byCeriani, a name once synonymous with impeccable wheel control. But if theunyielding behavior of the Jota America's fork and laid-down shocks is anaccurate barometer that famous Italian firm has fallen behind the technology ofthe times. Motorcycles such as the Suzuki GS1000 and the Honda CX500 have proventhat comfort and handling need not be mutually exclusive, but the Laverdareflects none of that philosophy.
Rider comfort pays the dearest price for theJota's taut suspension rates, since handling seems largely unbothered by theharshness. Rough corners can be rounded at virtually the same speed as smoothones without incident, and the firm spring rates at least let the 1200 maintaingood cornering clearance in hard bends.
The America seemed to have no built-in, sure-firewobbles, even though we occasionally experienced a few wiggles. But these werecaused directly by the rider and indirectly by the suspension. If the rider wassitting bolt-upright and stiff-armed, and if a bump jarred the chassis in aroughly surfaced corner, the rider was jostled enough to move the handlebarsever so slightly. The front end has such hair-trigger sensitivity at moderateand high speeds that those small handlebar movements would often generate amild, short-lived twitch. We found the best solution to forestall such behaviorwas for the rider to bend his arms and lean forward slightly when cornering,rather than sitting upright and stiff-armed.
There's no such simple solution for the ride.Either Ceriani or Laverda has assumed that a Jota owner has no desire to bepampered like a dozen eggs, that he wants to "feel" the road. Well, not only doyou feel it, your body gets a topographical readout of everything the wheelsroll over, big or small. And the seat itself is so painfully short of easy-chairluxuriousness that the word "pamper" will never even enter your mind. The onlycomfort-saving grace is that the low-rise handle-bars and mildly rearsetfootpegs encourage a leaned-forward, quasi-café riding position which alleviatessome of the abuse directed to the buttocks and lower spine. Only when in thatcomfortable position can you endure more than 75 to 100 miles a day on the 1200.
The Jota, in this age of turbine-smooth multis,dynamic counterbalancers and rubber-mounted engines, can prove to be a bit of avibrator. Fortunately, the worst of the shuddering, which is felt through thefootpegs and handlebars, comes in above 4000 rpm (approximately 70 mph in highgear), permitting pleasantly smooth cruising at or near legal speeds. Above 4000rpm the frequency of the vibes is not as annoyingly high as that felt on somefour-cylinder motorcycles, but the intensity is greater. Thus, long stints above4000 rpm will result in some tingling in the hands of the rider and in the feetof both the rider and his passenger.
If you still harbor serious doubts as to whethercomfort is a low-priority item at Laverda's factory in Breganze, Italy, considerthe half-turn throttle that must pull against inordinately stiff return springsor the rear brake that requires a Paul Bunyonesque romp on the pedal to generateany perceptible stoppage. If that's not enough evidence, toss in a clutch leverthat resists your pull like a hand exerciser and a long-throw shift lever thatis so close to the footpeg that it only feels comfortable to a size-six shoe.
On the other hand, reliability is a major concernat Laverda, which is why the 1200 is outfitted with a number of features toimprove longevity. Prominent are the No. 630 chain superseding the smaller No.530 used on the 1000, replaceable camshaft bushings, a solid-state ignition andvoltage regulator, and Japanese-made instruments and switches. Needle bearingscan be found at the swingarm pivot and tapered rollers at the steering head. AndLaverda, like most European firms, prefers cast iron rather than stainless steelin its brake rotors for less fade and more consistent wet-weather stopping.
The sole reliability concern our 1200 provokedinvolved the flip-up gas cap, which leaked like a coarse-pitch sieve. The Jota1000 we tested in June of 1977 had the same problem, signaling that it's hightime Laverda remedied this potentially dangerous design. We finally vented thecap on our Jota like on a dirt bike to solve this problem.
At the time of our Laverda Jota test a year and ahalf ago, spending $4495 for a 1000cc Jota required some serious soul-searching.The same number of dollars could buy you the status of a BMW R100RS and 40percent fewer dollars would slip you into a Japanese superbike.
But now the big BeeEm has escalated to morethan$6000 and the new Honda Six is pegged at four grand. The 1000cc Yamahas,Suzukis and Kawasakis are temporarily hovering near the $3500 mark whilethreatening to go even higher if the Dollar keeps getting kayoed by the Yen. Butin the middle of this skyrocketing inflation is the Jota America, at $4250 awhole $245 cheaper than the Jota 1000. The big triple is no longer abreathtakingly overpriced exotibike. It's still exotic, but now it's practicallyas affordable as the Japanese monsterbikes.
But don't let the Jota's suddenly reasonableprice confuse the issue. The Jota America is still not ever man's motorcycle. Itis not a pinnacle of sophistication, smoothness, effortless operation orinfatuating gadgetry. You could easily get faster, better-suspended motorcyclesfor less money. But we're not talking bargains or economics here. We're talkingexcitement and passion; fast cornering, blood-curdling engine sounds and seriousrider involvement. We're talking the language of Italian motorcycles.
If your personal demographics match up with theJota's profile, you'll like the bike a lot. And if you're unsure about it all,finding the answer is easy. Just scratch your throttle hand and see if anyonenamed Kenny or Giacomo is hiding in there.
RIDE REVIEWA ride on the Jota convinced me that Laverda mustspecialize in the construction of farm equipment. The suspension hammered me onrough roads, the brakes demanded a mighty yank and a stomp, and the clutchrequired a peasant farmer's strength. Even the bellow from the engine soundedlike it belonged to a tractor. The Jota is about as frivolous as a turnip.
But as the spare, British-like lines of the Jotasuggest, the best thing about this motorcycle is its lack of frivolity.Everything here works for a living. The gearing permits the 1200cc torquer towork at a sensible rpm. The stiff suspension swallows seed without hesitation.
There's probably a reason that the Jota, unlike aDucati Darmah or Honda CBX, turns heads wherever it goes. It's because even theman in the street admires a totally serious machine. And in the face of foolishstyling and engineering exercises, the Jota's seriousness makes it prettyappealing to me, even though eight hours on this bike makes me feel like I'vebeen plowing a field all day. —Michael Jordan
The Laverda 1200 America is a brutishmotorcycle. The enormous triple is surly in general. It makes low-rpm, throbbingtorque, while also making a good deal of noise and vibration. The levers aresized for enormous hands, and require an equally enormous squeeze to makeanything happen. The rear brake is pretty much nonfunctional unless you stand onthe pedal with both feet. A downward blow on the shift lever with a sledgehammer may result in a downshift. Riding the Laverda is a real workout. Too muchof a workout as far as I am concerned. It's like riding some kind of unrulyanimal; you have to make it do what you want it to do. Personally, I'd ratherride a horse.—Jeff Karr
It doesn't take a master's from Moto-U to knowthis Laverda is something special. Not only does it act like a hewn-from-marblemotorcycle, it looks like it—as the endless streams of wide-eyed onlookersproved. One guy in a commuter-brown Chevy wagon even slid up to me at astoplight, gave it the once-over and asked if it was American-made. It hasexactly that square-jawed look.
Unfortunately, the payoff for me in the way ithandled, rode, accelerated and shifted just didn't measure up to the looks. Ifound myself liking the idea of the bike— 1200cc overstatement—better than thestuff it delivered. A balky shifter, too-long throttle pull and ungainlyergonomics just plain made it uncomfortable.
But the sound it makes tips the scales. Anymotorcycle that makes noises like an angry ack-ack gun can't be all bad. —SteveThompson
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