Harley-Davidson - Moto Guzzi Club of Victoria

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IT'S TIME YOU GUZZISTI STOPPED BAGGING HARLEY DAVIDSON AND STARTED
TO SHOW SOME GRATITUDE TO THE COMPANY THAT SAVED MOTO GUZZI!!
OK so that is a very BIG and PROVOCATIVE statement to make. Nonetheless I believe that the
clear, prima facie evidence establishes the undeniable truth of the statement! Yes it may well
be, in the catch phrase of Al Gore, an Inconvenient Truth, particularly to the readers of this
magazine, nonetheless read on as I present you with the incontrovertible facts that back up
my thesis.
Mocking Harley Davidson and especially the people that ride them is second nature to almost
every motorcyclist who doesn't ride a Harley, and is particularly pronounced in those of us
who ride European machines. These days you don't hear so much the old put downs that used
to be directed at Japanese motorcycles such as Rice Rockets, Jap Crap or Rice Burners. But you
sure do hear plenty of unflattering references to Harleys and particularly the people who ride
them...."Hardly Driveables", "Chromosexuals", and of course the catch-all "Wankers".
Now I'm not saying that the descriptions of both the bikes and their riders are not without
substance. Clearly there is some form of masculine, mid life crisis sexual inadequacy at play
with (mostly) middle class men
desperately trying to pass themselves off
as Bad Boy Bikie/Wannabe Hells
Angels/Outlaw Road Warriors. The way
they drape themselves in every Harley
Davidson endorsed article of clothing, the
bandana and the ubiquitous Harley logo
leather jacket, often with fringes hanging
off the arms and back, being the most
egregious examples of such. The total
overuse of studs and various forms of
gauche bling all over the bike and
panniers; the ludicrously loud exhaust
pipes; the total conformity of everyone
wearing a half face, matt black helmet with dark wraparound shades (has anyone ever seen a
Harley rider in a full face helmet?) and don't even start me on the trend of ridiculously
exaggerated Ape Hanger handlebars!! Albeit there may be some rather obvious and
evolutionary based connection between the rider's anthropology and the description of that
particular style of handlebar.
At this point, and in light of that previous paragraph with some possible embarrassment to
myself, I have to declare that whilst Moto Guzzi's are my first and foremost Maxima
Motorcycle Love Machine, I nonetheless do own a Harley Davidson. It's a 1970 Police
Shovelhead Electra Drive 1200. Is it slow and cumbersome? Yes. Does it have the quick and
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nimble manoeuvrability of a World War One tank? Yes. Does the Queen Mary have a tighter
turning circle? Yes. When you ride it does the word "dinosaur" constantly flash into your
conscientiousness? Yes. Does it go around corners? No.
So why do I own a Harley? Purely because that particular Harley is a
fabulously cool looking bike! It's solely about The Look! And yes for
anybody who knows me, I am that shallow and superficial. I'm into
the appearance, not the performance.
Admitting that you own a Harley Davidson to a bunch of Guzzisti can
make you about as popular as Tony Abbott at the launch of Julia
Gillard's autobiography; as popular as Rolf Harris at a Survivors of
Childhood Sexual Abuse Fundraiser.
This was starkly bought home to me at a recent social sip at the Leinster Arms. In the spirit of
stirring up the Guzzi Club, myself and two other Harley owning club members, being Lawrence
and Mauro, decided we'd get to the pub earlier than usual and take up the prime parking
spots with our two wheeled, chrome saturated symbols of American Iron. Now whilst most
members got the joke, there was one who launched into an absolute tirade of Harley Hate
which encapsulated the lack of gratitude that this article is all about.
The identity of this particular member shall remain anonymous in order to protect the guilty.
However suffice to say that his opinion is never sought, but always given; the opinions
expressed are notable for their volume, never their substance; and the follically challenged
reality of his outer skull is replicated by the cerebrally challenged content of his inner skull.
Anyway I digress. Get back to the main point I hear you ask. Why should we Guzzisti be so
grateful to Harley Davidson???
Well the story starts in the mid to late 1960’s. There are a number of inexorable forces coming
together presenting Moto Guzzi with both the very real threat of annihilation, yet among all
the doom and gloom, one golden strand of possible salvation.
Firstly the popularity of motorcycles is continuing to fall. This trend has been evident and on
going from the 1950’s. The availability of cheap cars such as the Fiat 500 and the Volkswagon
Beetle throughout Europe, coupled with low petrol prices, has had a contracting effect on
motorcycle sales for the European and American manufacturers.
Secondly, the Japanese juggernaut of revolutionising and dominating the motorcycle world
relentlessly rolls on. Manufacturers, especially British, cannot compete and are being
consigned to the dustbin of motorcycling history. Ariel, Panther, Sunbeam, Matchless, Norton,
Douglas all gone or going. Moto Guzzi is precariously facing financial ruin with the sale of
larger capacity police motorcycles the only market keeping the company solvent. But even
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that niche is about to be attacked by Honda’s development of the soon-to-be-sensationallysuccessful four cylinder CB 750.
Thirdly and most ominously, on 25 February 1966 Moto Guzzi goes into receivership.
However as if to prove the truth of the old adage that it is always darkest just before the
dawn, a sliver of opportunistic light is beginning to break through a window 9600 kilometres
from Mandello. That window belongs to the office of the Los Angeles Chief of Police Thomas
Reddin. As Chief Reddin reads through the performance analysis of the Mounted Division of
the LAPD his blood pressure rises and rises until he explodes. The Harley Davidson
motorcycles that make up the forces Mounted Division are spending more time at the
mechanics than on the roads of Los Angeles. The budget is blowing out on a losing battle to
keep the Harley Davidsons running. This situation has been continuing for a number of years
and culminated in the Chief being severely embarrassed at the previous years 4th of July
parade when, due to mechanical failure, half the police display team were unable to complete
a 10 kilometre parade course.
“Goddamn it, we’re tendering for the best damn police motorcycle that we can find and those
sons of bitches in Milwaukee need to wake up to themselves and not just assume that year
after year we’re going to award them a fat contract just because they’re American!”*
The background to Chief Reddin’s outburst was that throughout the 20th century police
motorcycles in the USA had always been American and since the demise of Indian in 1956,
exclusively Harley Davidson. The relationship for Harley Davidson with the nation’s police
forces was so cozy that the performance specifications required in police contracts was
essentially a carbon copy of the specifications of the Harley Davidson motorcycle.
Underpinning Harley’s monopoly of the lucrative police market was the immoveable strength
and dominance of American patriotism. For a police force to buy foreign motorcycles would
be akin to spitting on the Stars and Stripes, declaring yourself a Communist or that the right to
bear arms, of whatever calibre, was not your God given right.
Clearly Harley Davidson had grown lazy and complacent in the smug knowledge that it would
be a rare and brave police Chief who would award a contract to a foreign producer. Not that
the foreigners had not tried. Manufacturers such as BSA, Triumph, Norton and BMW had all
attempted to break into the US police market, and who wouldn’t, it was huge; with the LAPD
having the largest motorcycle division in the country. However none had succeeded.
Nonetheless the Board of Directors at Harley Davidson had not factored in Chief Reddin’s
steely resolve and the situation was about to change…forever. The breakthrough was about to
be delivered by a relatively small and struggling, but determined and clever, Italian company
on the shores of Mandello del Lario.
Moto Guzzi were in the fortunate position of having won the Italian police and military
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contracts in 1965 with their highly acclaimed transverse twin, the V7. That success had lead to
sales to other European police forces. However the Guzzi people were ambitious. Where noone had ever broken through the US monopoly, they believed they could...and they did. After
an intense campaign where the company bent over backwards to successfully meet every
demand thrown at them by the LAPD, along with a supportive American distributor, the
Berliner brothers, and most importantly a motorcycle that sold itself, in 1969 the LAPD bought
the Guzzi’s and continued to do so through to the late 1970’s.
The LAPD’s purchase of Moto Guzzis and the success of the bikes with the police who rode
them had the hoped for flow on effect when contracts were taken out with the California
Highway Patrol, then the Arizona, Missouri, Illinois and other state police forces. The
popularity of the Guzzi’s as police bikes spread further afield to Argentina, Uruguay, Venezuela
and back to other European police forces and eventually even the West Australian Police
Force.
By way of contrast to the Harley Davidsons, the Gooses (as the LAPD riders referred to them
as a bastardised mispronunciation of Guzzi) were essentially maintenance free and capable of
clearly outperforming the Harleys in all respects. The bulletproof reputation of the Moto Guzzi
being literally put to the test at the infamous shoot out in May 1974 with the Symbionese
Liberation Army, who had grabbed the world’s attention by having kidnapped and allegedly
converted the heiress Patty Hearst to their loopy revolutionary cause.
In laying siege to the SLA house the LAPD
were shocked to find that when the
shooting started the SLA were able to bring
to bear a far greater amount of firepower
than the police, which caused the mounted
squad to keep themselves crouched down
behind their Moto Guzzi Eldorados whilst
the bad guys sprayed automatic fire in all
directions. Indicative of the bullet proof
nature of the Guzzis, or possibly, the poor
aim of the SLA, no police were hit.
And there Dear Reader I rest my case, but I leave
you with this one gentle reminder. The next time
you feel the urge to pour scorn on Harley Davidsons
and their owners (and that time will never be long
in coming), do pause to give thanks to the folks in
Milwaukee who by their arrogant complacency and
refusal to innovate gave Moto Guzzi the golden
opportunity to keep the Mandello eagle flying high
to this very day… and beyond (we hope).
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* I have taken a certain literary license here. I am unable to verify that these were the actual
words used by Chief Reddin, nonetheless they do accurately represent the essential thrust of
the Chief’s views.
Rob McHugh.
The Patrolling Goose returns!