LAVERDA JOTA BUYING GUIDE THE DON

Forget the Ducati 900SS, Honda CB750 and Moto Guzzi Le Mans – come the mid-Seventies you needed a Laverda Jota to be top dog. And beginning in Italy, the Jota was really born in England

It would have been the summer of 1980. I was at an agricultural show in Devon, because that’s what teenagers did in Devon for weekend entertainment in 1980. You went to an agricultural show, looked at tractors, and then retired to the bar where the licencing regulations were purely advisory.

Inexplicably there was a motorcycle dealership with a stand. Not just any dealership either, as the bikes they brought along were a bit special. There was a Benelli 750 Sei, a Ducati Pantah and a bright orange Laverda Jota.

The dealer did not mind people sitting on them, which was another surprise as most of the dealers I knew of, just looking at a bike closely was tantamount to jumping on board and riding off.

I tried the Benelli for size and I decided it was just, well, silly. The Pantah, on the other hand, fitted me perfectly. And then I sat on the Laverda, for a very long time indeed. It was mesmerising. It was huge, too. It felt amazing, but also a bit terrifying.

Even teenage enthusiasm wasn’t enough to convince me that this motorcycle wasn’t an angry and uncontrollable animal, and that if I actually rode it, it would try to kill me.

Fast forward 40 years and I’m up close and personal with another Laverda Jota at Somerset Classic Motorcycles, and this time I’ve got the keys. Originally from Italy, then shipped to Herefordshire for Jota-ising, and then Belgium, and back to the UK, this Mk.II Jota was as impressive as ever.

There is something very special about the way it’s been put together. There are sturdy in-house made cycle parts and top quality components.

Electrics from Bosch, twin front discs from Brembo, Marzocchi shocks and Nippon Denso instruments. The engine is huge, with big fins and sandcast casings, a pair of camshafts and a bank of three 32mm Dell ’Orto carbs. There’s not a lot of slim elegance about it. This is a heavyweight champion, not some lithe middleweight, but it’s Ali, rather than Tyson. And the quality of the build stands out.

For the rider of an older British bike there were familiarities with this 1977 model, including a left-foot gear shift and a hefty but manageable clutch. The presence of the thing is what stands out. I’m a lot bigger than I was in 1980, and the Laverda fits me a lot better now.

The adjustable Jota ace bars make for a comfortable riding position. This is a surprise, as I’d expected it to feel a lot more of a handful. Not that it wasn’t. Engage first gear, slip the clutch and the massive amount of torque from the 180-degree triple takes over.

Legend had it that the Jota’s crank, with two outside pistons rising and falling against a single central piston, made the Jota vibratory. On this Jota there was nothing of the kind, which might have had something to do with the rubber-mounted foot pegs, or simply the way it had been looked after. The machine had a fine, though non-standard, red paint job. Whoever put this particular machine together really knew what they were doing. Starting a Jota usually requires choke and a closed throttle. Get too much air in and the engine will resent the lack of go-juice. Give it too much throttle and the Dell ’Ortos will enthusiastically squirt fuel in, flooding everything. On this one there was not a moment’s hesitation.

There is a tall first gear, which means everything starts off in a grumbly fashion until I get to 3000rpm and the grumbling turns into a snarl; things then start to happen very quickly. There is a change up, then another and things blur into the background.

The important thing is to concentrate on the stretch of tarmac ahead, keeping an eye open for bumps and preparing to hit the bends. To my surprise the Jota knows exactly where it is supposed to go. Riding it becomes instinctive. Keep it in third – all that is really needed on the country lane route – and think your way through everything from then on.

After a slightly wobbly start, the motorcycle and I come to an understanding. If it trusts me, I can trust it. It does not have the ‘hang on tight and crack it open’ feel of a big Jap four. Rather, you need to concentrate, while at the same time let it feel as if you know what you are doing – even if, like me, there was a tiny, but nagging feeling I was faking it.

Some riders like to move about a lot in the saddle, throwing things this way and that. For me, a more classic, keep the knees tight into the tank, ‘shut up and hang on’ style seems more appropriate. Off the sweeping curves of the former A-road, things are a little heavier in the nadgery. Doubtless on better roads with better bends, clambering all over this marvellous motorcycle to use every inch of the remarkable high-speed handling and every ounce of its power would have made it even more impressive. Personally, I was more easily impressed by the sheer quality of the thing.

It is a bit heavy to heave about from a standstill weighing in at 550lb, as I discovered while shoving it back and forth to take pictures, and I certainly would not want to commute on it. Anyone capable of chucking one around city streets has bigger cojones than me, that’s certain.

But after this regrettably brief encounter, I did feel that the Jota and I had come to something of an understanding. I respected it, and it was prepared to put up with my initial nervousness. Some motorcycles fail to live up to their reputation. The Jota’s reputation is, if anything, understated. An heroic motorcycle, and up there with Black Shadows and Gold Stars. If you ever get the chance, ride one. The only regret is likely to be felt by your bank account.

LAVERDA’S FIRST STEPS INTO LEGEND

Laverda had a reputation for engineering excellence long before the arrival of their big triples. Laverda started turning metal into machines in 1873 when Pietro Laverda began making farming implements, winemaking machines and bell-tower clocks. The first motorcycles were made in 1948 – these were watch-like 75cc machines with castings made in Francesco Laverda’s kitchen, with the help of the splendidly named engineer Luciano Zen. More of a hobby than a serious business proposition, Laverda kept making a few bikes alongside farm equipment and parts for jets and helicopters until the late 1960s. Francesco’s sons, Piero and Massimo, worked with Luciano to develop a 650, then a 750 parallel twin and a prototype SOHC triple which never made it to production.

THE TRIPLE ARRIVES

The SOHC triple became the basis for the 98cc 3C, an oversquare DOHC triple with the single cam chain running between the second and third cylinders and a 180-degree crank, the two outside pistons rising and falling together, creating an off-beat throb at low revs, which disappeared the faster you went. It was a world away from the only other mass market triple on the market, the OHV Triumph Trident/BSA Rocket 3.

The first 3C, revealed in Milan in 1971, had a sturdy double cradle frame with substantial bracing and Laverda’s own SLS front drum brake. Suspension was from Ceriani, with the rear shocks near vertical and the rear end looking very similar to the SF750.

“The Jota’s reputation is, if anything, understated. A heroic motorcycle, and up there with Black Shadows and Gold Stars. If you ever get the chance, ride one. The only regret is likely to be felt by your bank account”

There was a Bosch electronic ignition system, which was quickly changed for a better-quality Nippon Denso unit, and the clocks also came from Nippon Denso and could be seen on big Hondas. This marked Laverda apart from other Italian manufacturers, who stuck with locally made instrumentation despite its dubious quality.

The paint was well applied too, in another not terribly Italian move, and even the chrome would stick to the metal, for a while at least.

The 3C could easily top 125mph. An updated model, the 3CL, had Laverda’s own cast wheels, the L in 3CL standing for lega, Italian for alloy. There were three Brembo discs and a tidied up rear end, featuring a tail fairing. Even in stock form, though, the 3CL was the bike to beat, with a tested top speed of 133mph.

In the UK, Slater Brothers had already established a reputation for top-notch engineering, building Egli-framed Vincents under licence. When the 3C arrived, Roger Slater got to work on it, fitting higher compression 10:1 pistons and racing cams. Development was not limited to the engine, and fork yokes from the endurance racing SFC750 were used. The bike had higher foot pegs, a single seat, a racing chain and a very noisy exhaust system that increased performance by 8bhp.

Massimo Laverda agreed to supply a factory-built version as the 3CE, exclusively for sale in the UK. Laverda sent the bikes to the UK without silencers or an exhaust box, and they were fitted with the Slater Brothers exhausts. Calling them silencers was pushing it a bit. The result was christened the Jota, after a Spanish dance in three-four time. Making around 90hp, it was the first production motorcycle timed at more than 140mph. A Slater Brothers Jota was entered into the Avon Roadrunner Production races with Peter Davies as rider, winning the championship four times between 1976 and 1980.

The news of the Jota legend spread. The well-heeled bought them. Young riders sold everything and took on huge HP deals just to be able to say they owned the fastest bike on the road. The Americans heard about the Jota and created their own, converting the gear shift to left foot and fitting a Harris exhaust system.

A bigger, but softer Laverda 1200 arrived in 1978, partly for the US market where restrictions on the performance because of a quieter exhaust were made up for by adding 200cc. The sportier version of the 1200 was named the Jota America. All the triples adopted the same frame with more forward-leaning rear shocks and Marzocchi forks.

Engine reliability problems surfaced in 1979 when Laverda briefly used caged ball rather than roller bearings on the crankshaft to reduce engine noise. The specification of the bearings was incorrect, and they would break up after just a few thousand miles, causing massive damage to the engine. Laverda quickly changed back to the original bearings. In 1980 a batch of a new design of valve springs turned out to be prone to breaking.

More positively, a new, more powerful alternator was fitted, and a hydraulic clutch was adopted too, after several years of criticism of the heaviness of the cable operation.

By 1980, the gloss had come off the Jota a little. When it was introduced in 1976, the Jota had everything. It was the biggest European sports bike you could buy. The fastest road legal motorcycle in the world, capable of more than 140mph. Riders of Jotas were gods and occasionally goddesses among men. Four years down the line the Japanese had managed to match the performance of the Jota and on paper at least, Honda’s CBX1000 was as fast. And the offerings from the land of the rising sun were a lot cheaper. The 140mph Jota had 4mph over the Suzuki GS1000; but it came at a price of about £250 a mile-per-hour.

In 1981 it was the end of the line for the first Jota. Laverda decided that the 180-degree crank with its off-beat firing pulses and alleged vibration needed some attention, and in 1982 the factory switched to a new 120-degree crankshaft. For 1982 the factory offered a Jota 120 styled like the original, but then for 1983 added a nose fairing which rather ruined the lines. This was followed by the replacement of the Jota with the refined and user-friendly RGS, which made heavy use of body panels, and the trimmed down, naked-ish, sports bike, the RGA; until the company stopped making bikes in 1986.

These were still great motorcycles, but simply did not have the heroic brutality of the 180. Just as the first Guzzi Le Mans is the best-looking, and the original Ducati 900ss is so much classier than the later models, so the new triples lacked their predecessor’s animal aggression. Fairings? Seat humps? Rider comfort? They were, almost, civilised. And who wants that?

ANDY’S STARSHIP ENTERPRISE

In 1986, Andy Hodge had a Triumph T120V and, having just split up with his girlfriend, was feeling a little miserable. So, he did what any 24-year-old chap would do in these circumstances. He went out and bought a Laverda Jota 180.

It cost him £2000, which he couldn’t really afford on his engineer’s wages, but he did it anyway.

“Unlike on a big Jap, there’s no easy access oil filter. You need to clean the oil screen in the sump, and to get to it you must remove the exhaust headers, which will probably require the whole exhaust system to be removed.”

“It was a big, brash, powerful motorcycle which was just what I needed. It was like the Starship Enterprise compared to my Bonneville. I was 5ft 9in at the time and couldn’t get my feet flat on the floor. The power and the noise were incredible. It’s got a unique sound, that 180-degree engine, all gruff and raw and satisfying. It was fast too and could outrun Z900s and Z1000s. I know you could rev it to 10,000rpm if you were racing, but the redline was really about 7-8,000.

“Fuel consumption was reasonable. Or at least I can’t recall it worrying me. The handling was okay, but that was all. I’d previously had a Triumph T150 Trident in a Featherbed frame which was far superior. I know that people rode Jotas on Avon Roadrunners in production races, but mine had Metzelers which were excellent. I remember that it had a tiny bit of a high-speed weave on bends, and it didn’t like white lines very much.

“It was reliable, with none of the electrical problems that affected a lot of Italian bikes, though I did have one problem on a ride to Bavaria. Because we were riding through France, I had to have the headlight on all the time as that was the law. After a couple of days the battery went flat, and we had to bump it. I fitted a 20w Halogen pilot light and that solved it. I think the 1980 Jota needed a slightly more powerful alternator.”

After a year-and-a-half of ownership Andy realised the Jota was making a lot of noise from the top end. “I took it to Ian Smaile in Bristol, who knew everything about Italian bikes. Ian said, ‘I don’t like the sound of that’.”

SORTING THE ENGINE

Ian felt that the Jota had done a lot more miles than it said on the clocks and before Andy got his hands on it the oil changes had been neglected. Ian was tasked with sorting the engine out, and the deeper he got inside, the worse things got.

“The Jota has these cast-iron ‘skulls’ which form the combustion chambers and two of them had cracked from the sparkplug hole to the edge. The cams were wearing badly in the head too. The bill came to around £900, which was a small fortune, and at the time the mortgage on my flat was going up and up. So, I had to sell the Jota to pay Ian and the mortgage. I got £2200 for it.

“Since then I’ve had a lot of bikes, including another triple, a 2003 Triumph Speed Triple. The Triumph was a better bike all round, but I‘d have swapped it for another Jota in a heartbeat. When that lottery win comes in, it’ll be top of the list.”

RUNNING A JOTA

Keeping a Jota on the road does require you to look after it. This is not a motorcycle that will slough off neglect. Wipe it clean and check it over after every ride. You’ll need to change the oil every 1500 miles, for a start. Unlike on a big Jap, there’s no easy access oil filter. You need to clean the oil screen in the sump, and to get to it you must remove the exhaust headers, which will probably require the whole exhaust system to be removed.

The cam chain and triplex primary chain are both adjustable from outside the engine. But if you overtighten the cam chain adjuster, it can snap and drop into the crankcase with unpleasant consequences. The valves use Honda shims, and you must take the camshafts out to adjust them. Setting up three Italian carbs is always going to be a challenge. While the finish is better than most Italian bikes of the period, a Jota still needs looking after. A pair of crash bars might be unattractive, but given the unavailability of crankcase covers they might be a useful investment, just in case.

Laverda 180-degree triples are much more rewarding in both the way they command the road and they way that they sound, than any modern motorcycle. The Jota is more involving than most and the handling is heavy and slow at low speeds. But at even moderate velocity that ‘man and machine in perfect harmony’ thing kicks in.

Less mechanically fragile than a Ducati, less likely to send you to a chiropractor than a Guzzi Le Mans, the Jota is solidly built, desirable and tough. The prices are continuing to rise – especially of the 180-degree crank models. They are extremely collectable, with more and more hidden away in heated and carpeted garages. But locking away this king of the road almost seems a shame. Make that triple howl.

“Legend had it that the Jota’s crank, with two outside pistons rising and falling against a single central piston, made the Jota vibratory. On this Jota, there was nothing of the kind”