BIG THREES for the road

After the Laverda Jota, many thought the 1200 Mirage would be the ultimate Italian rocket. It wasn't, but it was more agreeable for everyday road riding, as John Nutting recalls when he tested the bikes in the Seventies.
MENTION Laverda and most riders of a certain age think of the Jota, the fire-breathing, 140 mph double-overhead-cam triple developed for production racing in 1975.
The Jota - the fastest road bike you could buy at the time - immediately became a legend and at a stroke gave a shot in the arm to the little Italian factory’s reputation for manufacturing high-performance motorcycles.
So strong is the Jota’s reputation that the current owners of Laverda are reported to be planning a new three-cylinder model for launch next year.
At the weekly newspaper Motor Cycle in the Seventies we - and many other magazines - had a great relationship with Laverda, fostered through the British importer Slater Brothers, which from its base in Herefordshire still keeps the evocative classic machines on the road.
It meant that during the Seventies I was privy to the ideas of brothers Massimo and Piero Laverda. Keen bike enthusiasts whose primary business was the manufacture of combine harvesters, they could indulge themselves not just with conceiving exotic machines (like the 750cc SFC production racers and the stunning V6 endurance racer) but with the more subtle needs of the everyday rider.
They were happy for Roger and Richard Slater to carry the Laverda torch into racing while enhancing their machines at a time when the Japanese factories were quickly catching up with better handling, and faster, bikes of their own. It was a huge challenge. Laverda had tiny resources compared to the juggernauts in Japan. But the products from the small but well-organised factory in Breganze could grabbed riders’ emotions.
They certainly grabbed mine. Collecting a new Laverda test bike was an adventure that started on the twisty A44 from Worcester to Bromyard, the perfect road for stretching the legs and wrestling with the handling of a thoroughbred Italian motorcycle.
It was no secret that the Jota I’d tested at MIRA in 1975 to clock that amazing 140.03 mph had been specially prepared, but no more than any owner could have specified. But like a DBD34 Goldie in proddie racing trim, it could be a pain to ride in normal road conditions, and with high gearing and close ratios the price of a high top speed was relatively poor acceleration from lower speeds.
In the post-Jota period after 1975 the Laverda factory needed to assess its position. Chief designer Luciano Zen was working on a 500cc twin that was more technically advanced than the triples and, not unexpectedly, riders were expecting something more exotic in the range of triples.
Apart from a ‘cooking’ 750cc twin, the uninspiring GTL, the next triple Motor Cycle tested at MIRA in July 1977 was called the 3CL. This was in substantially the same state of tune as the original 3C I’d tested three years earlier but it was a more practical road bike and what it had lost in outright maximum speed was more than compensated for in pick-up through the gears.
This time at the timing straight I assisted fellow staffman Stewart Boroughs who clocked a mean two-way maximum of 123.15 mph, about five mph down on the original 3C and a massive 14 mph down on the Jota. Best one-way speed of 127.40 mph was unusually assisted by a strong easterly breeze in the ‘uphill’ direction. As a rule, any prevailing wind at MIRA was westerly, providing a slight boost to the very slight downhill end of the strip.
Experience had shown that Laverda triples had vulnerable clutches that, under the harsh treatment of a series of standing quarter mile acceleration tests, would regularly burn plates.
This time, more practical (that is, wider) gearing of the five ratios enabled the bike to be more promptly accelerated off the line, resulting in a better time through the quarter. While the Jota’s time was just 13.05 seconds, the 3CL managed 12.6 seconds. Reflecting what appeared to be a lower maximum power, the terminal speed was lower too, 103.40 mph compared with the 110 mph of the Jota.
What was really needed was a bike with the top-end speed approaching the potential of the Jota combined with the grunt of the 3CL. The answer came later in 1977 when I was invited to the factory to see a new model for the 1978 model year.

Heavyweight BOXER

It may have lacked the charisma of its predecessor, the R90S or its fully-faired cousin, the R100RS, but the R100S was made for much longer and sells for less than the others these days, says Rod Ker.
THE BMW R90S, released in 1973 as the star of the /6 range, was a legend in its own launch-time for two main reasons. First, it was fitted with a fairing as standard. Second, it was very fast, with a top speed of 125 mph and acceleration to match, working wonders for BMW’s staid image.
But what about its less famous successor, the /7 R100S? Not exactly a high-profile model despite the fact that it was made for much longer and effectively lasted until 1996 in some form or other. It was phased out then reborn after a public outcry over BMW’s decision to kill off the aircooled flat twins.
Our test bike, a 1979 model, was provided by RWHS Classics (01630 657156, www.classicbikes.co.uk), where they’re finding increasing interest in older R-series bikes. You’re far more likely to find a 100S for sale now than a 90S and should expect to pay less.
But be warned that very cheap BMWs have a habit of turning into very expensive BMWs. Better to lay out a bit more cash in the first place and avoid paying to rectify the results of previous abuse.
The seven series models were updated in the usual ‘Flying Propeller’ fashion. The gearchange was better (they said the same thing every year, without noticeable results), the frame stronger, the engine less leaky, etc, etc.
Even so, nothing exactly radical had happened since the range was completely revised for the 1969 season under the direction of Hans von der Marwitz and Alex Falkenhausen, the same men responsible for the wildly successful ‘New Class’ BMW cars.
Originally the biggest engine had been 750cc but expansion up to 900cc had been envisaged. In fact, preparations to go to the full litre capacity had already been made on the R90S, involving strengthened crankcases and more meaty cylinder liners.
So, the main change to create the 980cc R100S and RS was simply to enlarge the bore by 4mm and fit appropriately sized pistons.
There was more to it than that, though. As a 900, the engine had shown an increasing tendency to lose oil when worked hard, both externally and by re-circulation into the airbox to be burnt.
For the one-litre bikes, BMW modified the breathing system, incorporating a baffled chamber inside the crankcases. It worked, too, although weeps from the cylinder bases were still not unknown.
Crowd puller
IN a showroom full of mainly Japanese contemporaries, the 100S’s small cockpit fairing made it stand out from the crowd. This small piece of plastic, directly from the 90S complete with voltmeter and clock, was considered an object of wonder in 1973 but less so by the time the R100S appeared.
Close-up, BMW’s famously odd switchgear becomes apparent. Why use a plastic indicator switch moving north and south when the rest of the industry thought it logical to move the switch left and right? Some people never get the hang of it.
Other changes made for the /7 included a stronger clutch sandwiched against a thinner flywheel with more teeth around the outside, thus lowering the starter gearing. Even so, the 9.5:1 compression, 490cc pots put up plenty of resistance, so starting is still a bit ‘will-it-or-won’t-it?’
In cold weather the answer was all too often a resounding no. Ever try bump-starting a big twin wearing full Winter clobber? Not much fun for owners rueing the decision to drop the kickstart at this stage.
No trouble in this case, though, and the engine soon settled to that familiar tickover, cylinder heads rustling gently. More flat-twin idiosyncrasies soon show. Blip the throttle and torque reaction rocks the whole bike sideways.
Select first (it might take a couple of attempts because the car-type gearbox and dry clutch work in mysterious ways), move away, and the rear end rises gracefully into the air as the shaft drive sets off another torque reaction.
By the late Seventies it’s fair to say that the Boxers’ gearchange was much improved but there’s still a definite technique to it. Try to rush things up or down and there will be some serious clunks from below. It doesn’t take complete incompetence to even lock the back wheel.
Squeezing the gear lever slowly between cogs is the correct method but even when the knack has been learnt it’s never the sort of thing you do for fun. Boxer Bee-Emming is more about shifting into top early and rolling the throttle on and off using the mid-range power. Unfortunately, the ultimate expansion to 980cc made this less pleasurable, simply because those huge pistons really thud at low revs.
While the 600, 750 and 800 are sweet engines with a spread of usable power from tickover up to around 7000 rpm, 900cc was really the comfortable limit for vibration control.
Breathing through gaping 38mm Dell’Orto ‘pumper’ carbs, the R90S was very revvy by BMW standards, flying to 120 mph and beyond with ease. In the interests of emission controls the R100S reverted to Bing CVs, which give a far less sporty response.
So while the performance might have improved on paper from the extra capacity, the 100S had actually lost the edge.
In fact, the twin doesn’t sound too happy at much over 6000 rpm - as you might expect from an engine with knitting-needle length pushrods prodding open large valves above heavy pistons moving 70.6mm!
Yet between about 50 mph and 90 mph which is, after all, the sort of speed range used naturally on the open road, the R100S has a smooth, relaxed gait. Over any distance, lack of absolute power is unimportant.
While contemporaries like the Kawasaki Z1000 or Suzuki GS1000 could blast ahead in the short term, after a couple of hundred miles it was a different matter. Having over five gallons on board and the ability to do around 45 mpg was part of the secret and BMWs were streets ahead for comfort in those days.

Five of the BEST!

Kawasaki produced five two stroke triples in different sizes and the very first ones were the fastest and most manic. Dave Howard owns one of each, all in immaculate condition and regularly ridden. Brian Tarbox finds out just why.
THERE were five threes in Kawasaki’s two stroke performance pack and Dave Howard owns first edition examples of them all.
The 42 year-old Yorkshireman kicked off his triples collection about five years ago with a rare 1969 Mach III 500 and has tracked down a 1972 S1 250, 1972 S2 350, 1973 S3 400 and 1972 H2 750 to complete the line-up.
Four are UK originals which thousands of hours and pounds have returned to showroom condition. Odd one out is the H2, a low mileage unrestored import from California that still looks as good as new.
Together they form the family from hell - mad, bad, dangerous and the complete antithesis of the sedate nostalgia associated with the typical classic bike collection. Think blistering acceleration, king-size wheelies and the worst fuel consumption figures known to motorcycling man. Think dense exhaust fumes. Think hooligan.
The 120 mph plus 500 Mach III was the granddaddy of the dynasty and you can add to its charge sheet, scary handling and a twin-leading shoe front brake that Dave says fades to nothing when pushed too hard.
Brits were not immune from the anti-social side-effects of this machine’s 1969 arrival even if they sat at home watching TV: its CDI ignition system interfered with television transmission signals and played havoc with reception.
Although triples were part of the Kawasaki range in one form or another for more than a decade, the raw aggression of the originals was quickly curbed. Engines were detuned, brakes uprated and the handling improved.
Hard-core enthusiasts see these later models as anaemic substitutes for the real thing, which appeared to be marinated in neat testosterone. Too extreme for most tastes, they were never top sellers but they enjoy legendary status and rarity adds to the kudos.
One owner said riding an H2 was a mixture of exhilaration and sheer terror. Dave Howard is a clan follower for the same reason.
Bike passion
HE is a car dealer and enjoys a quick blast on modern superbikes that part-exchange deals frequently bring his way. However, no 175 mph plus ‘plastic rocketship’ sparks in him the excitement he gets from riding a K3.
Same goes for performance cars. A few years ago he bought a new Porsche 911. Now he makes do with more modest four-wheel transport and saves his passion for the Kawasakis. The 250 and 350 are particular favourites but he points to the 500 as being in a class of its own in its day with a special place in motorcycling’s history books.
He said: “I have done 160 mph in a 911 but it doesn’t seem as fast or exciting as riding the old triples at 100.
“In my view the Mach III was the first real superbike. It came out at the same time as the 750-4 Honda and didn’t handle as well, but it was faster and in those days that’s all that mattered.
“It’s the most explosive motorcycle engine ever produced. Hit 6000 rpm and it takes off. Then you have to keep changing gear as fast as you can to keep it under 9000 rpm. I love that power delivery - and the noise. The induction roar at full throttle drowns out the exhaust note.”
The Mach III is most definitely an acquired taste. Dave says fuel consumption can fall to 18 mpg and that the high-speed vibration stabs his hands with pins and needles. Then there’s the handling...
“It’s strange,” he said. “One day it will behave itself. The next - riding it in exactly the same way - it can feel as though someone has put a hinge in the frame. As for the front brake, well its pathetic - and that’s being kind. From 100 mph I have had it fade away completely.”
Both his Mach III and the S1 250 he restored from a rust-encrusted wreck are concours winners that have racked up nearly 20 show awards between them.
The first of those trophies was won at the Vintage Japanese Motorcycle Club’s Lotherton Hall Show in July 2000. The event is the biggest all-Japanese classic bike event in Britain and attracted 7500 visitors that Summer. Friends talked Dave into taking along the immaculate Mach III and it won top honours as best restoration.
The latest addition to his trophy collection was picked up earlier this year when the S1 was judged best Kawasaki at the Mechanics-backed Donington Park show in February.
The cups, shields and rosettes are displayed in Dave’s conservatory where he keeps both the S1 and an immaculate S2. His garage holds the three bigger machines and two spares - a second S1 on which he does most of his riding and an S3 he’s rebuilding.
Dave draws a distinction between his restoration of “the bikes for show and the bikes for riding” but none of them is wrapped in cotton wool and merely trailered to shows and rallies to harvest more silverware. They are all runners and they are all ridden. The only difference is that some are now ridden a lot harder than others.
His home town is within easy reach of some of the best biking roads and most impressive scenery in Britain. He has the Yorkshire Dales on his doorstep and is just a short ride from the North Yorkshire Moors, both east and west coasts, the Peak and Lake Districts.
You can’t throw a con rod without hitting a film crew in these parts. It seems that half the most popular programmes on British TV are or were shot in one or other of the local villages or out on those ‘wild and windy moors’. Spot the backdrops for Sixties coppers investigating rural misdemeanours to the strains of Jimi Hendrix, old men behaving badly and vets administering to all conditions great and small after donning elbow-length rubber gloves.