Ride on Time: An Italian Superbike Adventure
If you’ve ever wanted to see Italy in style — vintage two-wheel style — a bespoke touring company from San Marino has the perfect superbike adventure for you.
I shan’t forget my 22nd birthday. I was at work, diligently going about my first job as a ‘promotions executive’ for a regional newspaper group in north-east England. When noon came around, the women from the circulation department (led by Diane, whose figure made Marilyn Monroe look like a boy) said we were going to the Golden Lion pub across the road for a celebratory drink. “But we’ll have to be quick,” warned Rita, the supervisor. “The first edition of the Evening Despatch goes out at three, and it’s always chaos when there’s no one in the office... ”
It was around 6pm when one of the paper’s delivery drivers pushed me out of his van in the direction of my front door, leaving me to stagger up the steps and collapse on the bed in an alcoholic daze brought on by my colleagues’
generosity during five hours at the Golden Lion. I drifted off beneath the slight warmth of the early spring sun coming through the window, only to wake an hour or so later with a throbbing head and my friend Bruce staring down at me.
“You stink of booze,” he said. “I got you this for your birthday.” Propped up on one elbow and squinting through the pain, I made a feeble attempt to tear the wrapping off what was obviously a book, a task I needed help with. Emblazoned across the top was the legend “Superbikes of the Seventies”, with the rest of the cover taken up by a picture of a man wearing an of-the-era crash helmet while cornering gingerly on a 1,000cc BMW tourer.
The book fell open at page 78, to reveal a double-page colour photograph of a Moto Guzzi Le Mans, which, due to my tired and emotional state, caused me to burst into tears.
Classic seventies bikes have developed a really strong following because of their retro looks and slower pace.
I loved 1970s motorcycles then and, more than 30 years later, I love them now, so when an invitation arrived from a fledgling outfit called Ride 70s to tour the Amalfi Coast on some of the era’s most celebrated superbikes, I didn’t need to think long before responding with a resounding sì.
Ride 70s is based in the Most Serene Republic of San Marino — the world’s fifth smallest country — where it was set up by Pietro Casadio Pirazzoli. In an old stable, below where the fortress of Guaita is perched atop the towering Mount Titano, the former master carpenter has created an Aladdin’s Cave of 1970s superbikes, ranging from Italian thoroughbreds such as Laverda’s 750 SF to Japan’s groundbreaking Honda CB750 Four. In between, there are Nortons, Ducatis, Benellis, Kawasakis, BMWs, Moto Morinis and Yamahas — approximately 30 machines, with a combined value of £200,000, all housed within walls bedecked in period motorcycle advertisements, garage memorabilia and vintage riding kit.
It’s what Casadio Pirazzoli calls “the clubhouse”, and it’s the official headquarters of a business that offers motorcyclists from around the world a chance to experience these chrome-rich classics on some of the most beautiful roads Italy has to offer.
Casadio Pirazzoli built the collection using money earned in his artisan carpentry work, mostly by buying bikes that were complete but in need of major restoration. He originally kept them for his personal use, until a couple of years ago, when he and fellow motorcycle fan Fabio Affuso, a professional photographer, realised there was potential for turning the collection into a business. “Classic bikes from the seventies have developed a really strong following because of their retro looks and slower pace, but they have become expensive to buy and restore, and they need to be properly maintained and, most importantly, regularly ridden,” Affuso says.
“Many people just don’t have the time in their lives for all that, or prefer the ease and convenience of riding modern bikes, which made us think of starting Ride 70s, to give them a chance to experience adventures on a classic superbike without having to own one.”
Our five-day ride along the Amalfi Coast began in Affuso’s vibrant and colourful home city of Naples, to where he and Casadio Pirazzoli had transported the Ride 70s fleet from San Marino.
As we punters arrived in dribs and drabs for an overnight stay at the hotel Casa Raiola, the steeds were dotted around the garden waiting for us to take our pick — I quickly chose the Laverda 750 SF, a twin-cylinder machine famed for its willing engine and deft handling.
Once everyone had selected a bike, Affuso and Casadio Pirazzoli led us on a ‘familiarisation’ ride of the serpentine roads that hug the side of Mount Vesuvius. It gave everyone a chance to get used to the quirks and foibles that go hand-in-hand with riding classic bikes, such as gear-change levers being on the right rather than on the left; kickstarters that require a Herculean leg; engines that are less powerful than contemporary equivalents; and brakes that demand plenty of forward planning.
After a convivial meal during which we got to know our riding companions, followed by a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast the following morning, we were all itching to hit the road proper — and what a road it was.
A brisk ride took us out of Naples and on to the coast, stopping for coffee at the picture-postcard town of Positano before a long and languorous fish lunch at Praiano’s clifftop trattoria San Gennaro.
After an easy run to Amalfi town, to see its spectacular architecture and colourful streets, the day’s journey ended at the Limoneto di Ercole hotel — perched above a stepped lemon grove dropping to the sea — from where we set off the following morning to ride ‘the wild route’ into the mountains of the Cilento national park.
There, after the ribbons of twisting Tarmac that brought out the best in the sportier bikes, we discovered the village of Roscigno Vecchio (ghostly after being abandoned due to landslip), a remarkable church-in-a-cave called the Grotto di San Michele in Castropignano, and a tiny bar in the middle of nowhere that was universally judged (by us) to serve the best negronis in all of Italy.
Despite spirited riding, a few uncalled-for rainstorms, and some typically atrocious Italian road surfaces, we made it crash-free to the night’s stop at the Agriturismo Terra Nostra in Corleto Monforte, where the apparently pure-bred Italian host, John, turned out to have been born in the English town of Luton and was such a fan of Laurel and Hardy that he had commissioned a spectacularly lifelike tattoo of the pair to be etched onto his left leg.
John fed us until we could eat no more, and presented us with an equally daunting breakfast the following morning before inviting us to take our ease around the extensive grounds surrounding the house, much of which is farmed by his ancient but impressively fit father.
A sun-soaked ride down from the mountains and back to the coast followed, ending in the breathtaking mountain-top town of Castellabate, where our home for the night — Residenza Matarazzo — proved to be everyone’s favourite hotel of the trip.
The final day’s ride included a visit to the ruins of the ancient Greek city of Paestum, before we rejoined the Amalfi Coast road (frustratingly rammed with traffic on a Sunday) and headed to the final destination in Naples.
After five days and around 400 miles in the saddle, we agreed there was no better way of seeing Italy’s spectacular Amalfi Coast and the rugged landscape inland than by motorcycle — and doing so on a seventies superbike made it all the more appealing, because the tendency was to ride slower, take more in, and form a bond with the machine that probably wouldn’t have developed with less characterful, modern-day motorcycles.
Now I’m off to gaze lovingly at the long, lean lines of a Moto Guzzi Le Mans. Not the one in Superbikes of the Seventies — the one sitting in my garage that seems to be saying, ‘Fancy a ride?’
