Having amassed reams of info about the bike, the next problem was to find one in fairly good condition within travelling distance of my Yam DT175, namely fifty miles, after which distance the blood supply to one’s groin area was severely restricted, causing much merriment to on-lookers in public conveniences when the call of nature was exercised.
Eventually, a bike was located and the vendor was willing to take the DT in part exchange (what a nice man). Following a long conversation on the phone things seemed quite promising. On arrival, the 1975 machine was all the chap claimed. It had been stored in a centrally heated garage for the majority of its life - it was absolutely immaculate. Mileage was very low, something like 5000 miles.
After a quick blast around the block, nothing seemed as though it was about to self destruct inside of the engine, and the brakes although a little vague stopped the bike in an acceptable distance. The price was £800 minus the £300 agreed on the DT; the deal was struck. The ride home proved to be in line with everything I had read - the bike was a silky smooth rocketship, especially after the 175 Yam. The speed had to be kept at a conservative level due to badly deteriorated OE Pirellis, the condition of which was akin to Nancy Reagan’s skin.
On arriving home I decided the suspension was a little too harsh. After trying to adjust the collars on the shocks with various C spanners, WD40 and a big hammer, I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t going to adjust, so I left it as it was. Another problem, after a short period of ownership, was the battery which decided to give up the ghost. If the bike was left for any length of time the battery would discharge. At first, this wasn’t much of a problem as I used the bike regularly and started it with the kickstart rather than the electric. Eventually, I had to buy a new one - the price of the Varta original was extortionate so it was off to Halfords with the tape measure. Removal of the battery was difficult because there was so little space around it, a grip like a Hillfields prostitute (an area in Coventry) is needed to get it out!
From the day of fitting the new battery the problems began. The first thing to go was the alternator which kept shorting out. I discovered that the outer covering of the wire had perished and was cracked, resulting in a bare wire shorting out against the casing. The rest of the wiring was in a similar state, if you so much as moved a wire the insulation would fall off quicker than bits off a C15.
Riding the bike became quite demanding, always wondering when it would let you down. It was usually at the most inconvenient time, along way from home and at night, or alternatively when you were late for work. The rear light blew with monotonous regularity; | never discovered the real cause of this. If you so much as breathed on the kill switch the engine died. The starter motor only worked on Wednesday if you spoke nice to it. The headlamp was as dim as the bloke who designed the switchgear and the idiot lights lived up to their name - to see them clearly at night sights off a sniper's rifle come in handy.
Following an outing in the rain the chrome on the silencers turned a nice oxide orange. I found that as long as you kept on top of this with Solvol it didn’t get too bad. However, prolonged use of this stuff soon had the pipes down to bare metal. Then the baffles started to rot, so I drilled holes in the end of the silencers and sprayed in WD40. The bike howled like a good ’un when it came on cam after that.
In a moment of madness I decided to see what the top speed of the bike was, so it was off to the local bypass. Much to my surprise, the bike attained the speed of 155mph at 6000rpm, whilst I was sitting up! The clocks certainly lived up to their name - Vaguelia. I estimated the speed to be around 115mph, 120 with a following wind. At this speed, the bike was steady as a rock in both a straight line or on long sweeping bends - it went around like it was on rails. On B roads, with a pillion on the back, the centre stand will dig in like an Argie at Goose Green. There were several ways around this - ride without a pillion, don’t go round sharp bends so quickly, junk the stand and the silencers or buy a Ducati (I eventually did the latter).
Anyway, back to the story. On the really only major ride I went on the bike - to Wales for the day - the gods were with me, as the bike never missed a beat. For long distance travel the seat becomes rather uncomfortable. After a 100 miles a rest stop was needed, which was fine with me as I usually needed to vent my bladder by then. Economy is quite reasonable, it’ll return about 45mpg at 80mph. The chain life was pretty good, too, thanks to the smooth power delivery, which also helped rear tyre life. I did about 3000 miles on the bike and this had hardly any effect on the chain or tyres. The front brakes were the usual excellent Brembos, backed up by a useful drum at the back.
Drag starts on the bike were possible if you could ignore the noise from the clutch, which sounded as if it was about to explode. I only did it the once intentionally and that was enough for me. Maintenance of the engine was quite straightforward, although removal of the six spark plugs was not exactly fun - only way to get them out was with a box spanner; beads of sweat used to run down my face when I replaced them, hoping I wasn’t going to cross thread the damn things. Checking and adjusting the valves was time consuming but easy enough.
Removal of the head, with the engine in the frame, proved mucho fun because the only thing I could get on the head nuts was a box spanner. I took the head off as there was oil leaking from the head gasket, just like on the Honda 500 four, on which the six cylinder engine is based. I should have left the engine well alone, like what Honda owners do, as it leaked again a few days later. A great deal of fun was had torquing down the head with a box spanner...
Speedscene of Huddersfield, who I believe are the only possible people who carry spares for Benelli, were extremely helpful and also offered help and guidance on problems (and boy you'll have them if you own one of these bikes) - I suppose they're a bit like the Samaritans...
After nearly a year of ownership I had come to the end of my patience with the machine. At first, it had been fun and the problems were put down to the character of the bike. I’m sure there are one or two owners out there who have had a great time with their bikes and are at this very moment getting their pens out in anger, but I found the constant electrical and other problems far too intrusive into my enjoyment of the machine. For sure, the chassis and brakes were much better than any of the contemporary Japs and it’d be definitely worthwhile to bung some Jap engine and electrics into the chassis - that would give the best of both worlds.
To run a Benelli 750 for any length of time you need to be committed (in both senses of the word), it'll take lots of time, work and money to keep it running for high mileages. Otherwise, it can just be used as a Sunday afternoon classic. I’m glad, in many ways, to have got rid of mine. I sold it to some chap in Portsmouth for £650 back in 1980 (is NBC 1P still tormenting its present owner?) [Sadly not; even sadder is the fact that that plate currently adorns a BMW wankermobile - 2021 Ed.] and went and bought a Darmah, but that’s another story...
John Sheldon