murphus
Senior member
- Location
- Lost in the Midwest
Finally got the so-called (well, by me anyway) Colorado Laverda back on the road. I bought this 1984 RGS in December 2017 from the widow of its former owner. One of the more bizarre purchase ordeals I've experienced. It had been listed/taken down/relisted several times on Craigslist in Colorado. Hopeful buyers would contact the seller and usually get no response, and if they did get a response the seller would go quiet, not answering any questions. It listed again in November 2017, and to my surprise I received a prompt reply to my query of interest. The reply was from an associate of some sort of the owner; I nicknamed him The Handler. He described the bike's condition, reason for sale (owner died), and price. The bike was in Colorado Springs, a roughly 8-hour drive from my digs in Lawrence, Kansas. As near as I could determine, the bike hadn't been run in at least two years, so I gathered tools I thought I might need, along with the battery out of my '83 RGS and a small jump box. The night before heading out I emailed The Handler my schedule and let him know I was bringing tools/battery to assist in checking out the bike. He knew from our emails that I was an enthusiastic RGS owner with mechanical experience.
Heading out the next day with my brother Tony along for the ride and my trailer in tow, we'd gotten roughly half way to Colorado Springs when I received an email from The Handler exclaiming that under no circumstances would anyone be allowed to touch the Laverda. A series of emails quickly followed, me saying fine, that's your right, but if I can't confirm its condition I'm not interested, and him saying I must be crazy to pass up such an amazing opportunity to get "an extremely rare Laverda" at a bargain price. They wanted $4,500. The bike presented well in photos, and it was stored inside. I shared with him that while the price might appear favorable, it was no bargain if the bike had a duff engine/transmission/cracked frame, etc. He wasn't going to budge, so I turned around and went back home. He was incredulous. It was oddly funny. I didn't need the bike, I just wanted it, and if I couldn't confirm its condition, screw it.
About two weeks later I got an email from fellow Laverda owner and Colorado resident Eric, whom I'd become acquinted with and who, as it turns out, was a friend of the former owner and suggested he could get me in touch with the owner's widow if I still wanted to pursue the bike. He obviously couldn't guarantee it, but he bet, having known the owner, that it probably wouldn't need much beyond flushing hydraulics, changing the oil, replacing the tires, etc. His advice was to go with cash in hand, look it over, and if it looked solid, buy it.
A week later I headed out, friend Jean along for the ride. I didn't see a soul around as I pulled into the owner's driveway, but moments later a woman was standing outside my car looking at me suspiciously. I introduced myself, and she looked at Jean and said "who's that?" in a way that suggested I'd broken some unspoken promise to come alone. Having Jean there turned out to be something of a god send, because Athena, the widow, took a liking to her. Athena guided us into the garage, really kind of an old carriage house with big wooden doors, where the Laverda sat, kept company by a mid-70s Triumph Bonneville and a Jaguar XJ6. I looked the RGS over thoroughly, taking pains not to say much or even do much but observe. It showed 41,000 miles and looked quite good. There were a few minor changes noticeable, like aluminum brake/clutch reservoir caps and replacement front brake hoses, but appeared otherwise well kept. While I was checking it out, Athena pulled out boxes of spare parts and several large binders stuffed with original Laverda advertisements and dealer brochures, along with articles cut from magazines and some correspondence with parts suppliers. It all added up to an enthusiast-owned machine, so I decided to take the plunge and bought it, laying out the payment, $100 bills as requested, on the hood of the Jaguar as Athena counted and marked each bill with a counterfeit marking pen to make sure it was legit.
With the bike's paperwork signed over and in hand I loaded the RGS. Before we left, Athena suddenly dropped her armor of suspicion and showed her human side, asking questions about how had Jean and I met and remarking how lonely she was and how hard it was to meet people. It was odd and sad.
Long story boring, I got the bike home and put it in the garage. It was winter and I wasn't going to worry about it until spring as I already had a '74 SF in the workshop I was rehabilitating. Every February the local chapter of the Antique Motorcycle Club of America has a show here in Lawrence, so for fun I thought I'd bring the RGS as European bikes were the featured class. I'd yet to do anything to it, but I polished it up and displayed it at the show, where it garnered 3rd Place in the European Street category. And here's where the heartbreak comes. During the show it snowed lightly. Unbeknownst to me, the city had trucks out spraying the streets with brine. Show over I loaded the bike on my open single-rail trailer, took it home and put it in the garage. The roads were wet, it never occured to me they'd been salted. I didn't look at the RGS for several weeks. When I did, it was incredible what the salt had done. Engine cases were heavily oxidized and pretty much any exposed metal was the same. Fuck. I spent hours trying to clean it, hoping to mitigate the damage, but the damage was done. It pissed me off that I'd allowed it to happen, and pretty much killed my ambition to work on it.
Fast-forward to last Autumn and I finally tore into the RGS, stripping it and refinishing the frame and its ancillaries. Full overhaul on carbs including new jets, needles, etc. Rebuilt the hydraulics, replaced two completely knackered engine mounts, new tires, etc., etc., etc... Amazingly, the paint on the bodywork is as bought, and near as I can tell original. Forks had clearly been rebuilt, tubes looked new, legs wearing clean gloss black paint. And while the previous owner clearly appreciated this bike, he or whomever was maintaining it did so in a pretty sloppy manner. Nuts/bolts missing washers, wrong or mismatched screws/bolts/nuts, shift rod linkage basterdized - rethreaded from 6mm to 1/4in U.S. apparently so they could use U.S. thread equivalent heim joints - right side rear wheel bearing spacer installed wrong, instrument cluster wiring ribbon cut at connector block, the connector held in place to the broken connector block with zip tie to maintain contact. Mufflers were black and clearly repaired - poorly - with globs of weld at the joins for the bends. I suspect the forks were done by a shop as they're correctly assembled, clean.
Beyond carburetion, new spark plugs and air filter, and checking valve lash and adjusting the cam chain, the engine is as received (waiting for new cam and primary chains from Wolfgang). It runs beautifully. Still on the original BTZ ignition. Fires up immediately, pulls very nicely. Haven't ridden it but 10 miles or so, but it's really lovely. Still plenty to fettle, and need to further clean and polish the engine side cases. But it's up and running, hopefully ready for years of riding to come, and now sharing space with the '83 RGS ...
Heading out the next day with my brother Tony along for the ride and my trailer in tow, we'd gotten roughly half way to Colorado Springs when I received an email from The Handler exclaiming that under no circumstances would anyone be allowed to touch the Laverda. A series of emails quickly followed, me saying fine, that's your right, but if I can't confirm its condition I'm not interested, and him saying I must be crazy to pass up such an amazing opportunity to get "an extremely rare Laverda" at a bargain price. They wanted $4,500. The bike presented well in photos, and it was stored inside. I shared with him that while the price might appear favorable, it was no bargain if the bike had a duff engine/transmission/cracked frame, etc. He wasn't going to budge, so I turned around and went back home. He was incredulous. It was oddly funny. I didn't need the bike, I just wanted it, and if I couldn't confirm its condition, screw it.
About two weeks later I got an email from fellow Laverda owner and Colorado resident Eric, whom I'd become acquinted with and who, as it turns out, was a friend of the former owner and suggested he could get me in touch with the owner's widow if I still wanted to pursue the bike. He obviously couldn't guarantee it, but he bet, having known the owner, that it probably wouldn't need much beyond flushing hydraulics, changing the oil, replacing the tires, etc. His advice was to go with cash in hand, look it over, and if it looked solid, buy it.
A week later I headed out, friend Jean along for the ride. I didn't see a soul around as I pulled into the owner's driveway, but moments later a woman was standing outside my car looking at me suspiciously. I introduced myself, and she looked at Jean and said "who's that?" in a way that suggested I'd broken some unspoken promise to come alone. Having Jean there turned out to be something of a god send, because Athena, the widow, took a liking to her. Athena guided us into the garage, really kind of an old carriage house with big wooden doors, where the Laverda sat, kept company by a mid-70s Triumph Bonneville and a Jaguar XJ6. I looked the RGS over thoroughly, taking pains not to say much or even do much but observe. It showed 41,000 miles and looked quite good. There were a few minor changes noticeable, like aluminum brake/clutch reservoir caps and replacement front brake hoses, but appeared otherwise well kept. While I was checking it out, Athena pulled out boxes of spare parts and several large binders stuffed with original Laverda advertisements and dealer brochures, along with articles cut from magazines and some correspondence with parts suppliers. It all added up to an enthusiast-owned machine, so I decided to take the plunge and bought it, laying out the payment, $100 bills as requested, on the hood of the Jaguar as Athena counted and marked each bill with a counterfeit marking pen to make sure it was legit.
With the bike's paperwork signed over and in hand I loaded the RGS. Before we left, Athena suddenly dropped her armor of suspicion and showed her human side, asking questions about how had Jean and I met and remarking how lonely she was and how hard it was to meet people. It was odd and sad.
Long story boring, I got the bike home and put it in the garage. It was winter and I wasn't going to worry about it until spring as I already had a '74 SF in the workshop I was rehabilitating. Every February the local chapter of the Antique Motorcycle Club of America has a show here in Lawrence, so for fun I thought I'd bring the RGS as European bikes were the featured class. I'd yet to do anything to it, but I polished it up and displayed it at the show, where it garnered 3rd Place in the European Street category. And here's where the heartbreak comes. During the show it snowed lightly. Unbeknownst to me, the city had trucks out spraying the streets with brine. Show over I loaded the bike on my open single-rail trailer, took it home and put it in the garage. The roads were wet, it never occured to me they'd been salted. I didn't look at the RGS for several weeks. When I did, it was incredible what the salt had done. Engine cases were heavily oxidized and pretty much any exposed metal was the same. Fuck. I spent hours trying to clean it, hoping to mitigate the damage, but the damage was done. It pissed me off that I'd allowed it to happen, and pretty much killed my ambition to work on it.
Fast-forward to last Autumn and I finally tore into the RGS, stripping it and refinishing the frame and its ancillaries. Full overhaul on carbs including new jets, needles, etc. Rebuilt the hydraulics, replaced two completely knackered engine mounts, new tires, etc., etc., etc... Amazingly, the paint on the bodywork is as bought, and near as I can tell original. Forks had clearly been rebuilt, tubes looked new, legs wearing clean gloss black paint. And while the previous owner clearly appreciated this bike, he or whomever was maintaining it did so in a pretty sloppy manner. Nuts/bolts missing washers, wrong or mismatched screws/bolts/nuts, shift rod linkage basterdized - rethreaded from 6mm to 1/4in U.S. apparently so they could use U.S. thread equivalent heim joints - right side rear wheel bearing spacer installed wrong, instrument cluster wiring ribbon cut at connector block, the connector held in place to the broken connector block with zip tie to maintain contact. Mufflers were black and clearly repaired - poorly - with globs of weld at the joins for the bends. I suspect the forks were done by a shop as they're correctly assembled, clean.
Beyond carburetion, new spark plugs and air filter, and checking valve lash and adjusting the cam chain, the engine is as received (waiting for new cam and primary chains from Wolfgang). It runs beautifully. Still on the original BTZ ignition. Fires up immediately, pulls very nicely. Haven't ridden it but 10 miles or so, but it's really lovely. Still plenty to fettle, and need to further clean and polish the engine side cases. But it's up and running, hopefully ready for years of riding to come, and now sharing space with the '83 RGS ...
