Classic motorcycles: 'A way of life'... Or something like that

Well, actually, of course not. But for us classic enthusiasts it certainly is. Our rocking or racing horses make us proud, happy or sometimes sad. But apart from the secret collection that someone cherishes and never talks about, they are also pleasant topics of conversation.

That talk often still falls under the pillarization that still exists within motorcycle circles. Harley riders basically only pay attention to their colleagues and do not greet other motorcyclists. BMW drivers salute BMW drivers and feel mild pity for the lost souls who don't drive BMWs. Honda riders find each other in breadth and share their belief that Honda has saved motorcycling. Kawa drivers are ADHD people on speed. Suzuki riders go for the ultimate price-quality ratio.

Riders of classic sporty Italians are still convinced that the handling and technology of their machines is the absolute highest achievable and that wiring is simply supposed to smoulder. British drivers are generally enthusiastic, but put things into perspective. “All parts falling off this bike are made from the finest quality of British best.” That was a good selling sticker, just like the “I rather eat a can of worms than ride a Japanese motorcycle”. That was a lot friendlier than the stickers with a hand grenade and the text “universal Japanese motorcycle repair tool”.

And until recently, enthusiasts of classic ex-Soviet motorcycles were only expected to mumble unintelligibly together, drooling slightly with their heads tilted on one shoulder, until the men in white coats picked them up again.

The rest are having fun in their own way

That doesn't sound like 'A brotherhood of outlaws' as lost romantics sometimes say. But working uncomplicatedly with old motorcycles RESTORATION: historical heritage is a pleasant activity. Alone or with like-minded people.

The last Moto Guzzi in a succession of 25+ years of Guzzi love and some suffering is a former ex Carabinirie V65. It has been stripped of its shell. Oh yes: The carabinieri is the shortened (and commonly used) name for “L'Arma dei Carabinieri”, an Italian military corps of the gendarmerie type with general police duties. The carabinieri also function as the Italian military police and are therefore comparable to the Dutch Royal Military Police. The engine was actually in good condition when purchased. The wiring was not completely original. But because the improvements were made at WB Motors in Borne, the result was better than ex works. Better, but still quite complicated for me. There were also about four loose power strips among the spaghetti. Blue lights? The siren? The transmitting & receiving equipment? Who knows.

The V65 received a headlight via Toon Beuzel and indicator lights via the Barneveld fair. Bol.com – I only buy digitally if I can't do anything else on a Sunday and can't find anything from its own ranks – supplied a pair of halogen spotlights with what turned out to be a well-balanced price-quality ratio: low & low. For those spotlights I decided to fall back on one of the few E-circuit diagrams that I understand: From the + to the switch to the relay for the excitation and the power supply. And then to mass. Or so. To complete the design, a floating fuse that had been lying around for some time was installed. Madame Electricienne Jinny should be my boyfriend. The fairing and original - apparently rare - exhaust mufflers found a new happy owner in exchange for what is so much more pleasant than a few euros: a bottle of whiskey. The new owner was classified as a new aspiring friend and was willing to reciprocate.

The additional lighting did not work. After disconnecting and reconnecting everything about four times, I decided to simply power the spotlights individually via a battery charger. The lights didn't work. I disassembled the not-so-distant radiators and saw: “Hello! No lights!” I fished two old, but suitable copies from the dented cardboard box 'lamps'. With the external power supply, the transplants gave a tragic, piss-yellow twilight. Once reinstalled in the system... Things didn't work again despite the encouragement from the universal meter.

Friend E came over. He rides the Moto Guzzi Falcone where the design flaw from the basic engine from 1917 has been engineered away in-house. Something that Guzzi had not been able to do until the end of Falcone production in the mid-70s. E is much guessier than I am in electrical matters. He looked at the matter and concluded: “He has to do it.”

After several actions the lights still did not work. We replaced the switch and eliminated the relay. Because relays are only for people without a sense of adventure. During all our 'brain steaming' another Guzzist arrived. Comrade J rode British twins for 50+ years until his knee got tired of kicking. He is now very satisfied with a neat V50 from the ever-growing Kiat Que collection that has been winding down for a number of years, but now really... Never mind.  

J. went home to get another relay. Came back and did our much-repeated trick again professionally. “Click!”. The light stayed off. I decided to leave the matter alone. After all, the spotlights were only there to make the BMW GS1300 (from a base price of € 24.000) jealous.

With the fingernail of my index finger, I viciously tapped the high-beam switch again in farewell... They came on. Not that they would ever blind anyone. But they did it. That is the moment when you have to stop thinking and talking. Fuel up. Fuel hoses attached. Start and run. In for warmth and satisfaction from a bottle where the whiskey was almost the same color as the halogen light.

Would anyone know what was going on here? Please keep it quiet. We don't want to know. The lights work! All lamps work! And the horn! Moto Guzzi Rulezzz!