MV AGUSTA 750S
It’s rare that you see an iconic motorcycle this exotic being ridden on the road. But in America, all things are possible as Nolan Woodbury discovers…
It seems wrong to credit Honda for kicking off the ‘superbike seventies’, given everything that MV Agusta accomplished in earlier decades. With roots embedded in 1930s Italian race bike technology, aviation specialists MV ruled the European Grand Prix scene with a succession of fast, exotic double cam inline racers that stacked up championship titles in record number. Contrast that experience to the Asian newcomer. Despite enjoying some racing success of its own, Honda seemed to zoom the CB750 from nowhere to bestseller status. That same Honda is credited with provoking a proper response from the Count in Cascina Costa, along with other motorcycle manufacturers across the Continent. By 1970 the chips were piled high, so MV Agusta dealt itself into the game with the 750S, wrapping the needed cycle parts around a racer remade for the road.
Following Japan’s bold jump into the bigbore scene, decisions were made and much money was spent. Some of the European firms (but few British ones) which took the plunge were able to invest in clean-sheet designs. Of the resultant 750 superbikes, a significant number achieved legendary status. Blistering performance and social status were the new modi operandi, replacing the motorcycle’s post-war lowcost transportation function for those manufacturers who survived the economic pressures of the times.
Joining a brace of traditional British twins and recent triples, each classic Euro 750 was distinctly different yet resoundingly similar, a by-product of engineering tradition and decades of practice. BMW’s Teutonic R75
drew praise as a speedy specialist, as did Guzzi’s V7 Sport, redrawn with a leaner, more sporting chassis that moved away from the touring V7. ‘Robust and over engineered’ best describe the oh-so alluring SF parallel twins from Laverda, and while the MV 750 flaunted a considerable racing pedigree, Ducati’s new 90-degree desmo earned its place in history by creating its competition kudos.
The inexorable rise of Meccanica Verghera Agusta reveals certain aspects that connect the 750S with decades of racing expertise. Major historical highlights include Giovanni Agusta’s founding the firm in 1923. After his passing in 1927, management was taken over by his eldest son Count Domenico. When MV’s aviation operation received its post-war cease and desist notice, a magical turn was taken with the Count’s decision to tool up to manufacture lightweight two-wheelers, and the crafty promotion that followed. ‘ The secret of success with MV,’ said Motorcyclist Illustrated in 1973, ‘is prestige. Due to their domination of world class racing, MV have established a reputation and even a certain mystique
It’s rare that you see an iconic motorcycle this exotic being ridden on the road. But in America, all things are possible, as Nolan Woodbury discovers…
which must be the envy of all motorcycle manufacturers.’ Taking to the track influenced MV’s customers back in the day, and it’s still a talking point among modern owners.
‘It really is a rolling piece of history,’ says owner/enthusiast Simon Graham about the 750S you see here. MV’s racing heritage was and is the strongest card in the 750’s deck... and if you check out the feathered tread on this machine’s tyres, you get the impression that this aspect of ownership is enjoyed in full. ‘ There’s a ton of the GP racer in the bike’s DNA – and that championship heritage remains unmatched. It’s amazing. Few motorcycles equal the sound or presence.’
Looking at the 750’s evolution, it’s possible to draw a direct line from the hiring of Ing Piero Remor and tuner Arturo Magni to the arrival of the sandcast double-knocker MV. Lured from Gilera, it wasn’t long before the pair had MV’s re-tooled racing four screaming to glory under a litany of all-star riders. In other news, Remor and Magni knocked out the prototype R19 street roadster late in 1950 for the Milan show, but MV’s faithful tifosi went on to wait for a machine that never came.
In 1958 an unparalleled run of 17 straight 500 GP crowns began, and MV were similarly dominant at the Isle of Man. In theory, the Count held an ace when the 600cc roadster appeared at Milan in 1965. Built to meet anticipated customer demand in a shifting future market – large displacement prototypes were also under development at both Moto Guzzi and Ducati – the shaft-drive 600 roadster was pushed into production using a sandcast aluminium copy of the late 1950s / early 60s works 500, bolted into an all-new chassis.
I first saw Simon’s MV 750S when it came barrelling in from the west to dip into the Del Mar fairground amid a thundercloud of
sound. Simon had owned the MV only for a short time – you might recall his blood-red Laverda triple from RC166. While the Jarama fits better for mountain getaways, Simon has made every effort to bring the colourful Sport up to a high standard.
‘I was working in Singapore and, after missing a couple of other 750s, I found the MV in Belgium. The owner agreed to sell as it had been sitting unused for nearly 20 years. Originally imported to Holland and showing just 7000km, it needed a fair amount of work, but some nice spares were included. No question, this was a right-time / right-place affair, even if bringing a vintage MV into Singapore was impossible.’
Simon hatched a long-term plan with US specialist Albert Bold to ship the bike to him, then arrange delivery once he was settled back in California. ‘Albert was fantastic. We’ve kept the good and reworked the rest, including the cylinder head, sludge trap and new JE pistons. It’s still running in but has proven quite reliable.’
Stripped of bodywork, archive photos of the racing multis reveal a very different skeleton to what you’ll find under a streetbike 750’s skin. Recreated later by Arturo Magni for his post-production street specials, that stout works frame is replaced with a unit originally drawn for the shaft-drive 600 tourer. A conventional, twin-shock double-cradle loop, the Sport’s single top beam arches over the cylinder head for clearance. Bracing is efficient: twin bars connect the upper tube to the stem housing on each side, with another cross brace on the front downtubes. Raked sufficiently at 27-degrees, the steering head mates polished yokes to 35mm Ceriani forks, with dual-rate Sebac shocks on the rear.
‘ The bike is heavy at 518lb dry and is happiest on smooth, sweeping roads,’ reports Simon. When he needs to slow the pace, the original brake shoes live inside the 200mm rear drum and ditto for the pads squeezing the 750’s 280mm Scarab discs. Welled Borrani rims are uniform at 18 inches apiece.
Every aspect of the MV engine dominates the entire experience of this motorcycle; its feel, sound, and its appearance all directly result from its construction. Following a blueprint drawn decades before, the motor’s bottom half is an enormous aluminium sump casting, split horizontally. Over this goes a plate cast to hold four individual cylinders on top and six main bearing supports below, fitting matching caps.
Engineered decades before highpressure oiling became the norm, a built-up crankshaft is pinned at 180-degrees and rides on four rollers inside and two ball bearings outboard. One-piece conrods use needle bearings. Between the left journals is a helical power take-off for the primary drive, at centre a straight gear mating with a train of three more reaching up to spin the engine’s geared camshafts. Each cam rotates on two ball and two needle bearings. You could assume the term ‘gearhead’ originated inside the MV factory, as the number involved in driving the valve gear alone totals six. My notes say everything was matched and coded. The valves adjust via shims under buckets, and the only bush is located on conrod’s small end.
Touch the button and the Bosch dynamotor silently, instantly, spins the engine to life. You really can go on forever about the sound and never find the words to do it justice. In Simon’s case, the tone can be changed between two exhausts; the stock chrome trumpets or a Magni that’s artistically shaped in satin black. From a seated position above the petrol tank, your ears fill with the meshing whir of a jeweller’s lathe, but from the rear the noise is pure boom. Described by some as the sound of ripping silk, the growl transforms into a shrieking warble above 6000rpm, and it’s this aspect of the MV street four that is retold most often.
‘It’s a spectacular racket. My riding buddies prefer to stick behind the MV just to listen.’
From the original four-cylinder 600, bore diameters were opened to 65mm (from 58mm) and keeping the stroke at 56mm nets a total of 743cc. Initial 750S models for 1971 were released with 30/29mm inlet and exhaust valves, a slight bump in cam duration and four UB 24 Dell’Ortos.
Simon’s bike came after the 1974 retune so incorporates more (8.5mm) camshaft lift, 10:1 pistons, 31.8/27mm valves and (on this engine) square slide VHB 27 carbs.
‘ The engine is cold blooded,’ says Simon, giving real insight into the life of MV ownership. ‘Even in sunny California it needs chokes, but you’ll need fingers like ET to reach them all. I ride carefully the first ten miles, just to warm things properly.’
Some quick twists bring the four to a steady idle, the quality depending on carb synchronisation. Mounted on individual rubbers, nothing connects to fix all four into position. Bolted to the cam cover, a bell crank acts upon the slides via short cables through the tops. This arrangement, plus the distributor’s rear location, generated some criticism by period testers, but the sound swayed even the harshest critic. Geared tall, the transmission is a treat with short, positive throws, ideally spaced ratios, and a 14-plate clutch that proved strong and durable. Motorcyclist Illustrated noted the higher gearing on the Sport compared to MV’s GT 750; ‘A few more revs are required for getaway but the higher gearing makes the ratios in the gearbox better for faster riding and cornering.’
There’s little meat in Cycle magazine’s 1973 initial test of the Sport, aside from calling the MV‘shockingly incomplete.’ A drum
brake first-generation model shipped to the US without the later performance tuning, it achieved an estimated 14 second quarter mile and 125mph with the optional full fairing. Simon has this fairing, but prefers the open look. Most agree.
In 1975 Cycle published a more comprehensive test on the restyled 750S America, now 790cc but retaining most of the 1974 performance upgrades. Five different conversations held with riders who’d experienced the MV netted five differing opinions. Some echoed Cycle’s report of high speed instability, mainly resolved by dropping the rear tyre to 28psi. Several observed that the engine’s grunty, electric-smooth delivery chewed the tall gearing to thrust the bike forward. ‘It’s hard work in tight twisties,’ commented one rider some 45 years ago. ‘For such an expensive bike the suspensions are quite ordinary, but adequate. Aside from spending some time experimenting with fork oil viscosity and level, plus mounting modern tyres, I haven’t swapped new parts over, preferring to maintain originality. I’ve not experienced the serious high speed weave mentioned in some of the reports and observed by other riders, but I’m careful to ride it smoothly.’
When Which Bike? tested the 750S in 1977, it was the most expensive motorcycle on the UK market at £3617, when a Suzuki GS750 cost £1258. Although the
MV’s ‘beautifully-crafted sandcast engine cases and the generously applied grey enamel on the frame tubes reflect the sort of craftsmanship you’d expect from a hand-built motorcycle, that traditional Italian bugbear, inferior chrome plating, undermined the quality image.’ The handlebars and exhausts on their bike already displayed some corrosion – but there was no denying the appeal of the 750’s ‘throaty roar’ or the way it ‘hunkered down solidly on the road, surging ahead with a somewhat sensuous determination.’
Marketed correctly as ‘exotic’ from new, the 750S was produced exclusively for the enthusiast desiring a true MV Agusta four. The same holds true today. Rakish and pinning its rider at the traditional angle, MV’s 750 Sport shares the classic greyhound silhouette of its European contemporaries, yet it is remembered differently. BMW made the R75 to perform in reliable comfort, and with a few extra dollars Ducati’s desmo could (and did) win races. Those parameters don’t fit the MV, which thrills its rider in other ways. I’m told that some 400 hand-built 750 Sports were sold between 1971 and 74, each costing roughly the price of three new CB750s. A feast for the eyes and ears, the MV’s allure isn’t measured by numbers, but ambiance. It’s a bright, shining reminder of a magical period when history was made available to the masses.