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Thread: Random Guzzi Shit

  1. #817
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    Feb 2010
    Here and there.....
    Quote Originally Posted by Outtomunch View Post
    I'm cheating..............

    Yes I’ve just realised that from Melch’s post..........

  2. #818
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    Oct 2006
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    Perfekt ist nicht gut genug.

    UKGSER-A place where I've wasted so much time, learned so much, laughed a lot and cried a few times.

    Every bed of roses has pricks in it!

  3. #819
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    Feb 2010
    'arrow, near the 'ill.
    I can’t put my finger on it but there must be a reason why Moto Guzzi motorcycles get into your blood and under your skin like no other. This well written piece of Italian nostalgia gives one perspective about the attraction of the marque.


    I was a wee lad, many years ago, in sunny Italy.

    I did not care for motorcycles, at all.

    I remember those days. We might be playing football on the street, in the blessed cul-de-sac where I grew up (yes, in my time people played football on the street. On the tarmac. You came home at dark with your knees bleeding, and no Nazi nannies around. Wonderful!). Every now and then, a motorbike of Carabinieri, Polizia, or at times Vigili Urbani rode about just to check that everything was hunky-dory. We stopped playing and waited for the motorcycle to go by and free the road playing field; twice actually, as the guy had to ride down at the end of the cul-de-sac, make a U-turn in the small square provided for the purpose and ride back.

    In those times there was no obligation of competitive bids for motorcycles or for any other public administration vehicles. Also, in those times (as in the UK) some car and motorcycle producers were, directly or indirectly, in public hand. Therefore, every Polizia or Carabinieri car which was not very little (Fiat) or an off-roader (Fiat again) were invariably Alfa Romeos, though public functionaries and high wigs might have Lancias or, say, the classy Fiats (in some cases the wonderful 125; but who will ever forget the glorious Fiat 130?).

    As to motorbikes, there was but one name, solidly in the heart of the Italian Public Administration uninterruptedly since Fascism, and now indirectly in public hands:

    Moto Guzzi.

    Therefore, Moto Guzzi had what was basically a monopoly on motorbikes for Esercito, Carabinieri, Polizia, Guardia di Finanza and Vigili Urbani. It was a benign two-wheeled dictatorship, of the wonderful sounding kind. The Nuovo Falcone was, as I remember, seldom heard, but I am pretty sure I heard that, too (must have been Vigili Urbani, methinks). Still, what I remember hearing most in those years were the two-cylinder engines, both small and big.

    They pottered around, in our cul-de-sac and in all other occasions in which they were heard, in the most astonishingly beautiful sounding way. Even a child like me, mad with cars and with no interest whatsoever in motorbikes, stopped and listened in childish wonderment every time. It was so beautiful you never wanted to resume football-playing again; which, for an Italian boy, means something.

    That sound was never forgotten. When life’s circumstances awakened in me, many years later, and in a different Country (Germany), the desire for motorbiking, the remembrance of that sound was never far away.

    In time, the first Guzzi came, then the second, then the third. I bought six in total. The main motivator was always the sound. But not only that. The tradition and wonderful history of the brand become also important and fueled the love for the Eagle, notwithstanding the disappointments. Still, at the root of it all was always the sound. Among all Guzzis I heard, I soon decided that the sound of the old carburetor ones was the best. Not only because it was the most beautiful, but because it was the sound I had heard on those big Carabinieri and Polizia machines during their various duties.

    It was, and his, the sound of my childhood. It was, and is, the sound of a Country I chose to leave in search of opportunities, but which I would never had left if decent opportunities for a young man with remarkable educational achievements, but without party card or connections with the right people, had been there. And let me tell you this: the scar of leaving Italy stays with you until you get in your grave, and possibly even after.

    I am now beginning in earnest the 2018 riding season, and have my SP 1000 up and running again. Throttle cables sorted, new tires, carburetors perfectly balanced (by me), new paint after this winter’s work, and decent weather to boot.

    An absolute joy to ride, as those Tonti-machines are still good in their dynamic qualities. But most of all, a pure joy to listen to. A true, metre-by-metre, unfiltered aural fun.

    A chap overtook me in his expensive, certainly beautiful, certainly fast, but most certainly – at least to me – sad-sounding BMW S1000XR. A beautiful machine with, I think, 150 or 160 HP. But I felt some sincere sadness at the thought of what sound the guy was missing.

    Motorbiking is not about power, or speed. It is about emotions. The bike that gives you the right emotions is the right bike for you. If you ask me, sound is such an important part of this emotion that it will remain with you even as a child, when you don’t care about motorcycles; and afterwards, when you actually do, and can’t be happy with the whining, high-pitched, utterly boring chainsaw-noises many brands propose.

    I have another bike: a 125Hp, 124 Nm, 2014 BMW R1200RT. A wonderful bike in almost every respect, but the sound makes you want to cry; and no, no Akrapovich exhaust will ever make of it a Moto Guzzi. Not even near. Actually, not even far.

    I think the R1200RT a wonderful product of German engineering. Fast, efficient, very nimble, well-thought in almost every detail (battery position is dumb; that’s all I can think right now!); very light for the bulk; uncannily agile, and damn fast to boot. Still, and if you ask me, the sound is beyond lame.

    This is why I rode the Guzzi today, and why I spent money on it, and will continue doing it. This is why I will grin like an idiot whilst riding, singing out loud the Italian songs of decades past, and who cares if people stare at me at the red lights. This is, also, why people give me the “thumb up” sign whilst I am riding, and I see people’s head turning and following my bike with interest all the time. I actually suspect that some bikers with way more powerful machines wait a while before overtaking me, missing a lot of perfectly fine overtaking spots, because they want to listen to that sound for a while.

    The sound is, by the way, no coincidence. Moto Guzzi was the first, already in the Sixties, to have a department dedicated to how a bike must sound, what today is called sound-engineering; because we Italians are an emotional bunch, and we need our motorbike to give us a kick from the moment we start it.

    The bike looks good with its new livery, but it is somewhat dated in its Eighties-style.

    The main attraction of that bike is the sound.

    The sound of my childhood.


    GSA Triple Black
    VW 'Triple Black' Campervan
    Zagato Guzzi 950 cafe
    Guzzi Le Mans 2, black and gold Coburn and Hughes.

    You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one

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