Full circuit
Lambretta wiring is confusing at the best of times, but with a little imagination most difficulties can be overcome.
Before long, casualties began to appear thick and fast, and soon they were dropping like flies. Everyone was suffering the same problem, water in the electrics
The year 1989 was an important one in the history of Lambretta because it saw the first Euro Lambretta rally, an event that heralded a new era in international scooter travel. While there had been the odd excursion across the Channel by small groups, never before had so many machines travelled at the same time. At this point in its history, with poor parts availability and patchy knowledge on how they worked, the Lambretta was not the most reliable of machines. Sending vast swathes of them into mainland Europe, all at the same time, spelt danger. Regardless of the situation we found ourselves in, we prepared to accept the challenge, all 300-odd of us.
Carrying spares would be a co-ordinated effort, aiming to cover any breakdown, and with so many going, there were bound to be enough supplies in the event of something happening. There was, of course, that golden rule of preparation in that no one should take a worn-out machine into battle; it would be plain stupidity to do so. Eventually the day of reckoning arrived, and the mass congregation at the ferry port was a show and tell of all the extra crap you were carrying. Some took the casual approach, bringing only a spark plug and throttle cable, while others were all but trying to carry a spare engine on the back rack.
Of course, it was impossible to cover every eventuality and there was little point in worrying about that. In any event the Lambretta was pretty good at being bodged. Sometimes you could engineer the most ludicrous repairs and, more often than not, they would get you home. We were confident that although there’d be the odd hiccup along the way, only a small percentage of us would have real problems. There’d never be breakdowns en masse, that could never happen, or so we told ourselves. Travelling in Europe was new to many of us, and there were all sorts of things to get used to. Driving on the wrong side of the road caught a few out and many were perplexed by road signs in a foreign language. Hadn’t they realised we Brits were coming?
As the group made its way through Belgium and then into France there was very little to report. The award for first heat seizure of the trip was claimed by Billy, and everyone suspected it was because he forgot to put oil in at a petrol stop. He wouldn’t admit to that, instead blaming it on the hot weather as the sun beat down on us. We didn’t believe him, but it was undeniably hot. Unfortunately all good things come to an end and no sooner had we been discussing how warm it was than the sun disappeared. It hadn’t temporarily disappeared behind a wispy white cloud; instead, it was completely blocked out by a thick, dark sky which, by the looks of it, covered the entire continent. This could only mean one thing – rain, and before long we were in the thick of it.
The downpour was of epic proportions, similar to the monsoon season in countries that had monsoons wherever they were. Getting soaked was one thing but as we donned our waterproof gear, fear was starting to spread among everyone. The problem is that when it rains, there tends to be a lot of water kicking about, and that’s the number one enemy of any Lambretta. It must be remembered that this was the era of points-style Lambrettas, with huge industrial coils that desperately needed to be protected from the constant deluge.
Another great Lambretta design flaw was the junction box neatly plonked by the rear wheel, ideally situated to be covered in 50 gallons of water per second as the weary riders battled on.
Before long, casualties began to appear thick and fast, and soon they were dropping like flies. Everyone was suffering the same problem, water in the electrics and the sound of stuttering Lambrettas rang in the air like machine gun fire. Each time someone stopped, it was the usual case of pulling over to try and cure the problem. The standard Lambretta check had always been to take the spark plug out, earth it to the frame then kick the engine over. If there was a blue glow, you were in business and could get the thing going. If it was dead, you knew water was doing its best to prevent you from continuing.
Everyone was at it, especially during fuel stops, making sure you weren’t wearing yourself out by kicking the engine over a thousand times when a quick check was the obvious answer. However, there was one exception to this rule, and he was called Steve. He never reached into his toolbox once and showed no signs of removing a panel. It was as if he had some sort of telepathic connection to his scooter that could detect if his engine was sparking or not. More annoyingly, every time we pulled up, he kept beeping his horn which was starting to annoy a few. Eventually someone snapped and asked why, every time we stopped, he kept doing it. His reply was simple: “To check if I have a spark.”
No one had the foggiest what he was on about and demanded an explanation. “It’s simple; everything is linked on the Lambretta so if the horn bleeps, I know I have a spark.” Admittedly Lambretta wiring wasn’t the easiest of things to understand, but this explanation seemed to defy the laws of physics. Further questioning revealed that a friend of his had come up with the idea of incorporating a battery in the circuit and connecting it all together. We scratched our heads and Steve decided to demonstrate. With the side panel removed, he pressed down on the horn button, making it sound continuously before pulling the plug cap off, at which the sound stopped. “See, now do you understand? It’s called the full circuit.” No one did; it was the most oddball development ever seen on a Lambretta; get this though, it bloody worked.