This year marks the 35th EuroLambretta, but back in 1989, the very first EuroLambretta was a far rougher affair: city-centre car parks, flooded campsites, soggy maps, failing electrics, and a ticket scramble that left plenty of riders fuming. Stuart Owen looks back at Strasbourg, the event that wasn’t perfect, but changed everything.
Hundreds of Lambretta riders and enthusiasts made their way to Austria for the 35th EuroLambretta event. Set among all the usual pomp and pageantry that is part of its make-up, the annual pilgrimage is a firm favourite on the scooter events calendar. Organisation, from the hosts to the enthusiasts, is carried out in a military-like manner, ensuring everything runs smoothly. It hasn’t always been like that, however, and the very first one in 1989 was a far cry from how it is now. As with anything new, it took time to establish, and despite teething troubles, it was a success, paving the way for the event to continue.
Reborn
Italy during the 1980s was a dark time for the Lambretta, and it seems almost unimaginable that its fatherland had all but lost interest in it. There were still owners who used them and dealers who catered to their needs, but they had become worthless, almost as if the country had moved on. There were a few enthusiasts, notably one in Milan, who had a business restoring Lambrettas; his name was Vittorio Tessera. His passion was clear to see and was boosted when Innocenti granted him permission to access the remaining archives and machines from the factory. Vittorio had plans to set up a museum dedicated to the Lambretta, but that was way off; for now, it was about reigniting the Italians’ love of the machine.
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Help was on hand from Tino Sacchi, a customer of Vittorio’s, who was equally passionate and was building up his own collection of machines. They had the idea of restarting the Lambretta Club d’Italia, the once-great organisation that previously had a membership in the hundreds of thousands. In the summer of 1988, they did just that with huge fanfare in the Italian press, and as interest began to gather pace, they announced a bold new event. It was intended as an international rally dedicated to the Lambretta, bringing enthusiasts from across Europe under one roof; it was called the EuroLambretta.
The idea was to hold it every two years, with a different nation hosting each time. International Lambretta rallies had been a huge success in the 1960s, and it was hoped to bring back those glory years. Lambretta Club d’Italia would obviously host the first one, but to try to make the location convenient for everyone, it was held in Strasbourg, France. At the time, the LCGB was by far the biggest national club, and they would make up the biggest contingent; however, the strange thing was that the club itself would not be directly involved with it, certainly not ticket sales.
Mad scramble
News of a possible European Lambretta event had begun to filter through to the UK, and before long, the announcement that it would be happening became official. It was new territory for most club members, as none had ever ridden their Lambretta outside the UK. A few had made the odd excursion over the English Channel, but it hadn’t been done as a club since the resurrection of the LCGB in 1978. Though the LCGB were involved in promoting it, legshield banners, and so on, the ticket allocation became a nightmare. Vittorio was good friends with Howard Chambers through their passion for restoring open-frame Lambretta. Howard made many trips to Italy and visited Vittorio’s Lambretta workshop in Rodano, Milan, on many occasions.
Howard took a very serious approach to the Lambretta, and the thought of hundreds of British beer-swilling Lambretta riders descending on the EuroLambretta didn’t appeal to him. He had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the LCGB, certainly its members, and being an elder statesman of the Lambretta, he didn’t share the same views or understand their thinking. Vittorio had put Howard in charge of ticket distribution for some reason, not so much for him to have control, but, in a way, Howard could police it better. The limit was strictly 250 tickets, and at thirty-odd quid a pop, it was going to be an expensive outing.
Demand was huge: a mad scramble to get your hands on one, way over the allocation, and everyone began badgering him or anyone who knew him to get a ticket. It became a nightmare for all involved, and it wouldn’t happen like this again. It should have been Kev Walsh and the LCGB making the decision on ticket distribution; in future, they would. But, for now, it was up to Howard. By the time they were sent out, he was fed up with the situation, but not as much as those who missed out. Many vowed to travel to Strasbourg regardless, supposedly being denied entry if they did, as the rows over the ticket allocation continued.
All roads lead to Hull
There was no denying that the majority of LCGB members attending were from the north of the country, which was why most of them booked the Hull-to-Zeebrugge ferry. Some would sail from other ports, but the northern ferry port would see its biggest ever gathering of Lambretta riders. It was a slightly muted affair, as the poor weather and the thought of driving on the wrong side of the road played on people’s minds. That point was proved when, on the European mainland, several riders drove head-on into traffic, at times mounting the curb to prevent a collision.
As for the weather, it became known as the “rally of the rain,” with the trip to Strasbourg plagued by breakdowns caused by water in the electrics. The old points-and-condenser systems (remember them?) were prone to misfiring when waterlogged, with plenty of roadside repairs. One of the problems with this new European travelling format was that everyone rode together in large groups, and once someone broke down, which was frequent, it became a stop-start affair. There is nothing worse than getting soaked through, only to stop for a roadside repair, then realising you have another hundred miles or so to travel that day.
To compound the problem even further, no one really knew where they were going. Strasbourg, yes, but how the hell do you get there when all the road signs are in a foreign language? Add in the fact that navigation was by a couple of huge fold-out maps, which were soggy and falling to pieces, and it was a recipe for disaster. It wasn’t quite like that because, despite all the crap everyone was dealing with, it was a Lambretta voyage never experienced before, and all were enjoying it. You realised that the EuroLambretta idea was desperately needed, and the journey to get there was just as important as the event itself.
Set in concrete
The event location was split into two: a campsite and a function room, which was used for the meal, trophy presentation, and a separate display and event area. That was the strange part, as it was several miles away towards the town centre, and when you managed to navigate your way there, it was slightly uninspiring. A small concrete car park with a roofed area that was to become the gymkana and skill ride area. Condensed it may have been, but no one knew any different, so everyone just got on with it.
The odd European Lambretta owner turned up, but they were bringing their machines on the back of trailers, which seemed rather strange to the UK contingent. Most of them had early open-frame models and were themselves much older; it was like a void between Europe and the UK, both with differing values in the Lambretta scene. There was no animosity towards them because they were genuine enthusiasts; they just approached it differently. There was a lack of cohesion in the organisation, as no one really knew what to do or what to expect from the event, and it became a make-it-up-as-you-go-along affair.
The Saturday evening summed it up as the Italians, who were organising it, wanted to hand out their trophies. It’s a tradition with them; anything from the best machine to the one with the loudest exhaust could win one as they doled them out like confetti. The nighttime opened up the divide as the Brits wanted to do nothing more than go on the piss, while the rest sipped a glass of red wine at best. This was the first time an international Lambretta event had been held in modern times, and it became clear that each nation had a different opinion from the other, but somehow the Lambretta brought them together.
The Strasbourg effect
The first EuroLambretta was a test to see if the idea would work, which it did. It was basic in its organisation, with little direction once at the event, but it proved that it was possible to unite Lambretta riders from different countries. A meeting between the leaders of each international club present helped establish a framework for the format to continue. Part of that agreement was to hold the Euro Lambretta once every two years with a different host nation each time. Next up was the Lambretta Club Netherlands in 1991, held in Den Haag, near Rotterdam. That lacked real cohesion but was well supported, and it became apparent that holding it every two years was too long a gap. The result was that it would become an annual event, and the UK was next in 1992.
With the LCGB being the largest national club, the pressure was on to deliver an event befitting the Lambretta. Kev Walsh was in charge, and, with the committee, they worked tirelessly and invested heavily in making it special, and succeeded. It was hugely successful on all fronts and set the benchmark that all EuroLambretta events have followed since. There is no denying that Strasbourg was the start of it all, and though basic, it got the idea off the ground. It may have taken the LCGB in 1992 to perfect it, but the Strasbourg effect paved the way for the institution that the EuroLambretta has become.
Words: Stuart Owen
Images: Stuart Owen, Foxy
