I always wanted one of the big Laverda twins. They were pretty exclusive back in the seventies, most had kept their value over the following couple of decades. The wife, bless her, came into a relatively large inheritance and asked me want I really wanted. If I told her the truth, it would've been divorce time! I settled on a pristine Laverda SF750 twin.
Some perusing of MCN turned up a 32000 miler with a completely refurbished chassis, including new discs and front forks. One look and I was far gone. Four grand! My other bikes were all old Brit twins, none of this modern Jap nonsense. I wasn't worried about the heaviness of the Laverda's controls, though its steering took a bit of getting used to. The engine's relative lack of vibes compared to my 750cc Bonnie was the most impressive difference!
The SF's best described as long-legged. Starts to get in its stride at 80mph, can cruise at ton-plus speeds in a way that none of the other twins of the era can match. Beyond 110mph the vibes from the OHC twin mill do intrude quite harshly, not even the heftiness of the chassis, which leaves the bike a 100lbs heavier than British rivals, helps absorb the primary vibes - a strong hint to back off.
Town riding wasn't too much fun. Heavy steering, tall gearing and a painful riding position combined to have me grinding my teeth. I kept being buzzed by mediocre Jap twins but didn't have the low speed acceleration to put them in their proper place. At sub 50mph speeds, though stable, the Lav wanted to run through things rather than steer around them! I was thankful for the power of the twin discs even if their viciousness was a bit over the top in the wet!
The tyres were relatively thin and large compared to modern tackle but pretty much what I was used to on my old British twins - the main advantages, long tyre life and a lack of twitchiness from the front end. You can't hang off the edge of the tread and you are more likely to end up a hospital case than get your knee down. Sensible riding is rewarded with a rare competence, though, the Lav basically going where it's pointed and not having any hidden nastiness.
Suspension wasn't as stiff or short in travel as the old Brit's but a bit hard going over bumpy country roads. A lot of hard work needed to fling it through tight bends, sometimes the undercarriage grinding away, though nothing snagged in a dangerous way and there was so much mass that it didn't get far out of line. Not as fast as a good Bonnie through the tighter curves but in any other circumstances it would disappear into the far distance.
The nearest the old Brit industry came to the SF's cruising ability was the later 850 Commando's, but these tended to disintegrate if held at speeds above the ton for any length of time. The Lav's engine is made to an astounding specification - for instance, the crankshaft usually lasts for more than a 100,000 miles! The British industry failed totally to produce any bikes that matched the Lav's excessive quality, which also explains why even high milers fetch 1000's of pounds.
I was a bit miffed, then, when the gearbox went all loose and temperamental a mere 3000 miles into my ownership. Bits of gears appeared when I drained the oil! The final drive bearing was shot, letting the gearbox shafts go into a self-destruction routine! Cost 400 quid to fix, using a mix of used and new parts. Even then the gearchange was a bit reluctant to work smoothly!
Had to pay for that myself; the wife found the pillion perch disturbing, too sharp edged and too much vibration blitzing her tender parts - after a few rides, she didn't want to know about the bike! She was not amused the one time she later acquiesced to a short blast, only to find us stranded about two miles from home. Total electrical failure. A long, hard push followed, much cursing at the Lav's mass and its dragging twin disc front brakes.
Turned out to be generator failure, a fried battery and wires that were losing their insulation fast. Cost about two hundred quid to sort out, including a wiring loom! Whilst digging about in the depths of the frame I found plenty of hidden rust that I touched up and also some damage from battery acid that had almost eaten into one weld! The generator had obviously been giving out massive voltages before it died a death. The handlebar switches were far beyond the usual Italian dross, still functional.
The next moment of amusement came a few months down the line. The disappearing silencer episode. The whole exhaust was stainless steel, the silencer welded to the down-pipe (non-standard but outwardly similar to stock). On a long hard run, I noticed a bit of backfiring on the overrun, a few miles later a massive amount of noise, like a jumbo jet was about to land on top of me. Yes, the silencer was no longer attached to the downpipe, the vibes at a constant 100mph finally causing it to crack up and go AWOL!
The chassis was so well matched to the engine that the rider wasn't so aware of just how harshly the engine thrummed away! Most Laverda owners soon learn that the price of fitting non-standard components is their eventual (sometimes very rapid) destruction. Finding a replacement silencer wasn't much fun, a standard one eventually fitted at the cost of ninety quid! The carburation didn't complain, the replica on the other side obviously well matched.
The carbs did provide one moment of angst. A bad batch of petrol from a supermarket caused the floats to gum up, petrol spewing out of the bowls whilst we were running along at about 50mph. The first hint I had was a slight engine stutter which I ignored. Just as the stuttering increased a flame shot out from the crankcases. It gave the cagers something to do anyway, blowing away on their horns and gesticulating madly. Pulled over, turned the fuel off and used my gloves to put the fire out...
A friend tried the same trick on an FSIE moped, got the fire out but ended up with his gloves melted into his hands - plastic! He never lived that down. Back to the incendiary Lav. It wasn't the kind of job I could do by the roadside so it was an eight mile push home! No way I was going to leave a valuable classic by the roadside. Buying cheap petrol proved very expensive. By the way, the SF didn't like unleaded petrol, needed four star, would probably have run even better on higher octane fuel!
The most I saw on the clock was 125mph, not the nicest experience - I held it for ten minutes and was still shaking a few hours later! Even the chassis complained, though it was usually totally dedicated to the chosen line such crazy speeds had the back end weaving, the swinging arm mounts giving up the fight, I think! 120mph, the bike was much more relaxed, both in chassis poise and relative lack of vibration.
Fuel averaged about 50mpg. 60mph pottering gave 65mpg, ton-plus madness turned in 35mpg and the best I ever managed was 70mpg when I had to eke out the fuel. Unleaded fuel was a disaster, no more than 40mpg and very poor running. The engine gave every impression that it was gravely insulted and wouldn't last out the week!
Tyres were okay, over 10,000 miles, but brake pads and chains rarely lasted for half that. Running chains with a link or two removed isn't recommended, the one time I indulged the chain snapped - fortunately, only 30 yards from my house. All that vertical twin torque, man!
Overall, running costs were a bit on the high side compared to my normal expenditure on British bikes but it was probably cheap compared to modern Japs. Look out for dying electrics and the odd deeply decayed chassis part. Gearbox, clutch and chain primary drive can also be troublesome but compared to your average Brit twin it's a paragon of virtue.
As for the riding experience, I was just slightly disappointed - perhaps I'd lusted after the big 750SF for so long that the reality was bound to be a bit of a letdown. It will have to go soon, as will my garage full of old British twins, time to go modern and buy a new Triumph triple. Let you know how I get on!
Alex Kenning
Some perusing of MCN turned up a 32000 miler with a completely refurbished chassis, including new discs and front forks. One look and I was far gone. Four grand! My other bikes were all old Brit twins, none of this modern Jap nonsense. I wasn't worried about the heaviness of the Laverda's controls, though its steering took a bit of getting used to. The engine's relative lack of vibes compared to my 750cc Bonnie was the most impressive difference!
The SF's best described as long-legged. Starts to get in its stride at 80mph, can cruise at ton-plus speeds in a way that none of the other twins of the era can match. Beyond 110mph the vibes from the OHC twin mill do intrude quite harshly, not even the heftiness of the chassis, which leaves the bike a 100lbs heavier than British rivals, helps absorb the primary vibes - a strong hint to back off.
Town riding wasn't too much fun. Heavy steering, tall gearing and a painful riding position combined to have me grinding my teeth. I kept being buzzed by mediocre Jap twins but didn't have the low speed acceleration to put them in their proper place. At sub 50mph speeds, though stable, the Lav wanted to run through things rather than steer around them! I was thankful for the power of the twin discs even if their viciousness was a bit over the top in the wet!
The tyres were relatively thin and large compared to modern tackle but pretty much what I was used to on my old British twins - the main advantages, long tyre life and a lack of twitchiness from the front end. You can't hang off the edge of the tread and you are more likely to end up a hospital case than get your knee down. Sensible riding is rewarded with a rare competence, though, the Lav basically going where it's pointed and not having any hidden nastiness.
Suspension wasn't as stiff or short in travel as the old Brit's but a bit hard going over bumpy country roads. A lot of hard work needed to fling it through tight bends, sometimes the undercarriage grinding away, though nothing snagged in a dangerous way and there was so much mass that it didn't get far out of line. Not as fast as a good Bonnie through the tighter curves but in any other circumstances it would disappear into the far distance.
The nearest the old Brit industry came to the SF's cruising ability was the later 850 Commando's, but these tended to disintegrate if held at speeds above the ton for any length of time. The Lav's engine is made to an astounding specification - for instance, the crankshaft usually lasts for more than a 100,000 miles! The British industry failed totally to produce any bikes that matched the Lav's excessive quality, which also explains why even high milers fetch 1000's of pounds.
I was a bit miffed, then, when the gearbox went all loose and temperamental a mere 3000 miles into my ownership. Bits of gears appeared when I drained the oil! The final drive bearing was shot, letting the gearbox shafts go into a self-destruction routine! Cost 400 quid to fix, using a mix of used and new parts. Even then the gearchange was a bit reluctant to work smoothly!
Had to pay for that myself; the wife found the pillion perch disturbing, too sharp edged and too much vibration blitzing her tender parts - after a few rides, she didn't want to know about the bike! She was not amused the one time she later acquiesced to a short blast, only to find us stranded about two miles from home. Total electrical failure. A long, hard push followed, much cursing at the Lav's mass and its dragging twin disc front brakes.
Turned out to be generator failure, a fried battery and wires that were losing their insulation fast. Cost about two hundred quid to sort out, including a wiring loom! Whilst digging about in the depths of the frame I found plenty of hidden rust that I touched up and also some damage from battery acid that had almost eaten into one weld! The generator had obviously been giving out massive voltages before it died a death. The handlebar switches were far beyond the usual Italian dross, still functional.
The next moment of amusement came a few months down the line. The disappearing silencer episode. The whole exhaust was stainless steel, the silencer welded to the down-pipe (non-standard but outwardly similar to stock). On a long hard run, I noticed a bit of backfiring on the overrun, a few miles later a massive amount of noise, like a jumbo jet was about to land on top of me. Yes, the silencer was no longer attached to the downpipe, the vibes at a constant 100mph finally causing it to crack up and go AWOL!
The chassis was so well matched to the engine that the rider wasn't so aware of just how harshly the engine thrummed away! Most Laverda owners soon learn that the price of fitting non-standard components is their eventual (sometimes very rapid) destruction. Finding a replacement silencer wasn't much fun, a standard one eventually fitted at the cost of ninety quid! The carburation didn't complain, the replica on the other side obviously well matched.
The carbs did provide one moment of angst. A bad batch of petrol from a supermarket caused the floats to gum up, petrol spewing out of the bowls whilst we were running along at about 50mph. The first hint I had was a slight engine stutter which I ignored. Just as the stuttering increased a flame shot out from the crankcases. It gave the cagers something to do anyway, blowing away on their horns and gesticulating madly. Pulled over, turned the fuel off and used my gloves to put the fire out...
A friend tried the same trick on an FSIE moped, got the fire out but ended up with his gloves melted into his hands - plastic! He never lived that down. Back to the incendiary Lav. It wasn't the kind of job I could do by the roadside so it was an eight mile push home! No way I was going to leave a valuable classic by the roadside. Buying cheap petrol proved very expensive. By the way, the SF didn't like unleaded petrol, needed four star, would probably have run even better on higher octane fuel!
The most I saw on the clock was 125mph, not the nicest experience - I held it for ten minutes and was still shaking a few hours later! Even the chassis complained, though it was usually totally dedicated to the chosen line such crazy speeds had the back end weaving, the swinging arm mounts giving up the fight, I think! 120mph, the bike was much more relaxed, both in chassis poise and relative lack of vibration.
Fuel averaged about 50mpg. 60mph pottering gave 65mpg, ton-plus madness turned in 35mpg and the best I ever managed was 70mpg when I had to eke out the fuel. Unleaded fuel was a disaster, no more than 40mpg and very poor running. The engine gave every impression that it was gravely insulted and wouldn't last out the week!
Tyres were okay, over 10,000 miles, but brake pads and chains rarely lasted for half that. Running chains with a link or two removed isn't recommended, the one time I indulged the chain snapped - fortunately, only 30 yards from my house. All that vertical twin torque, man!
Overall, running costs were a bit on the high side compared to my normal expenditure on British bikes but it was probably cheap compared to modern Japs. Look out for dying electrics and the odd deeply decayed chassis part. Gearbox, clutch and chain primary drive can also be troublesome but compared to your average Brit twin it's a paragon of virtue.
As for the riding experience, I was just slightly disappointed - perhaps I'd lusted after the big 750SF for so long that the reality was bound to be a bit of a letdown. It will have to go soon, as will my garage full of old British twins, time to go modern and buy a new Triumph triple. Let you know how I get on!
Alex Kenning