Club Morini
CLUB MORINI
Exclusive. Italian. Unknown.
I bought back a motorcycle that I once owned. After I told this to a fellow enthusiast, he spontaneously responded, “Oh, you did a Peter Egan.”
Wow, Eganing is now a verb in motorcycle vernacular! I pretended I didn’t know who he was. I pretended I didn’t know that Peter has a habit of buying back bikes that he’s previously owned—or ones just like ’em. I pretended I hadn’t just been stripped of my personality. I pretended that my being invisible after a decade of writing for motorcycle magazines didn’t matter to me.
Well, anyway, I Egan’ed myself a 1980 Moto Morini 500 Sport. I first owned the same bike for about five years in the early 1990s and only sold it because I was in desperate straits. I was roadracing at the time.
Need I say more?
I’d sold it to my friend Peter Mack with the promise from him that I had first right of refusal if he ever decided to sell the bike. Bless his heart, not only did he live up to that but he patiently waited until I was in a place and time where I could afford to buy the bike back.
The Moto Morini 500 Sport was the crowning achievement of this small Italian motorcycle manufacturer, from the days before the company was sold to Cagiva and then to others. It is rare and exotic and, frankly, quite beautiful. It was derived from the company's 350cc 3½ and has a 72-degree V-Twin engine with Heron-style combustion chambers, in which the head is flat, the valves are vertical to the piston, not angled, and the combus tion chamber is in the piston. Okay, maybe that's not as sexy as desmo drive, but it's cool nonetheless.
The problem with every Moto Morini from the original company, at least as far as American motorcycle enthusiasts are concerned, is that their exotic rarity doesn’t give the bikes any special value. They’re so rare, not enough people know about the brand to know they should want one. Their existence is almost as undocumented as mine.
A proud Morini owner once more, I decided last year to show my new-to-me-again old bike at the Riding Into History Concours, a yearly event taking place each May in St. Augustine, Florida. I’d never shown a bike at a concours d’elegance before but guessed that a direct translation of those French words is, “Wash your bike properly!” I figured that showing my bike there meant having to wash even its private parts. You know what I’m talking about: that dirtiest of all places, the dark area where the centerstand hangs from the frame, the chain comes reeling out of the engine, the swingarm pivots and the rear tire deposits everything it has picked up from the roadway. It’s the place I refer to as bike genitalia.
I showed up at the event with my sparkly, if not slightly agitated, red Italian motorcycle, coincidentally pulling into the parking lot behind another exhibitor with a 1974 Moto Morini 31/2. Wow, I wondered, was I going to see mass Morinis?
No.
The two of us were ushered to the Italian bike section of the show to display our imposing horde of Moto Morinis together. No other Morinis showed up. And throughout the day, very few people who looked at our bikes stopped to talk or take pictures.
Worse yet, I found the owner of the 31/2 to be a bit irritating. I mean, get this, he thought his bike was better than mine! I knowingly scoffed at this, certain in the knowledge that all true American bike enthusiasts value big jugs over small bores. Plus, my bike’s balls were shinier than his.
He explained to me that his model was much more desirable than mine because it had the ultra-rare Grimeca vented front drum brake. I laughed, and not just to myself, pointing out that low-tech 1974 drum brakes are nothing compared with hightech 1975 dual discs, not to mention my bike’s tuned Marzocchi suspension and cast Borrani wheels. I added that his bike wasn’t even a Sport.
Judges came by and made secretive notes about our bikes. They asked a few questions, showing that they didn’t know much about the Moto Morini brand. I pointed out to them the decal of a witch on my bike’s tailsection, mentioning that it is very rare to find a 500 Sport with that original detail intact. I wasn’t sure if they heard me.
Around midday, I noticed two enthusiasts approaching who I knew would verify the excellence of my exotic machine. I knew this because they were both wearing red T-shirts with Moto Morini printed in giant white letters across their fronts. I first saw them frozen in awe at my machine, about 20 yards distant, each admiring my café-racer 500 Sport as well as they could from the far side of the dirty VÆ obstructing their view. But as the two of us Morini owners stood to greet them, they quickly walked over to the owner of the 31/2, with one of them loudly exclaiming, “Oh, my God! You have the version with the Grimeca vented drum brakes!”
These two enthusiasts were from the U.K. They had arranged their trip purposely around attending this event, with the hope of seeing some Moto Morinis. I asked them what the big deal was with that drum brake. One responded that apparently I didn’t know much about Moto Morinis. My fellow exhibitor gloated.
For some reason, I didn’t leave the event until after the trophies were awarded. I’m sure the judges neglected to look at the bottom side of my bike. On the drive home, I wondered if I could get my friend Peter Mack to do an Egan on me. —Peter Jones
