Welcome to the void: The Lambretta legacy and the battle over modern scooters

More than two generations since the last Lambretta rolled off the production line, enthusiasts continue to preserve its history, but how far should that go? Stu Owen reports…

Arsenal beat Liverpool 2-1 in the FA Cup final, and the Morris Marina appeared in car showrooms for the first time; that was about as exciting as it got in the UK in May 1971. Elsewhere around the globe, it was just as mundane, but in Italy, a huge announcement shocked the nation: Innocenti was ending production of the Lambretta. News would take a while to filter through, but once it did, everyone had to accept that it was over for the once-great machine from Milan. Hardest hit was Lambretta Concessionaires, as the Lambretta was the mainstay of the company; thankfully for Peter Agg, he was building a new empire with Suzuki. This is key to the story because, though he tried to persuade Innocenti to change their minds, it was too late because they were already in the process of selling the GP production line to India.

Realising there was no turning back the clock, he poured all his resources into making Suzuki a success, which he duly did. There was some respite for the Lambretta in that he would import the Spanish version, but they were producing outdated models, and creating any significant demand would take a miracle. Even if it could be sold in large numbers, there would still be problems because the Spanish factory could never produce as many machines as Innocenti. Dealers would continue to service machines for existing customers, but with spares limited in supply and slowly being exhausted, everyone would have to face the fact that it was largely over for the Lambretta.

Sticking plaster

Institutions such as the Lambretta Club Great Britain, racing organisations, and magazines would soldier on, but for many, it was only a temporary reprieve. A sticking plaster to keep them going, but the inevitable was around the corner. By the mid-1970s, they were all but gone, even Lambretta Concessionaires giving up on Lambretta importation from Spain. It had been sporadic at best and catered only to the younger generation, as they were the ones buying them. The problem was that there was a much cheaper alternative: an abundance of extremely good second-hand machines at a fraction of the price. The Spanish Lambretta filled the gap for a while, and within a few years, the Indian offering would try to reignite the market.

Launched in the UK in 1978, it had high hopes of succeeding once again. The importer was Two Four Accessories, owned by Peter Agg. Running it was Arthur Francis, who had a Lambretta dealership going back to the Innocenti days. Drafted in was Bob Wilkison to market it, and in addition, a host of other ex-Lambretta Concessionaires employees, trying to revive the brand. There were issues from the outset, such as poor build quality and machines damaged in transit, but they paled into insignificance compared with the big problem. It was almost a decade since the Innocenti-built Grand Prix had debuted, and though beautiful in its design, it was technically outdated. Almost a decade later, the Indian version stood no chance because it remained stuck in the previous decade while the rest of the world moved on.

It sold, but only in small quantities, a token gesture compared with the glory years of the Lambretta, and those in charge soon realised the fact. It ended up in the hands of Ray Kemp, who ironically had been Arthur Francis’s apprentice, almost like a full circle, and it was the best outcome. With it, he was able to continue the Lambretta legacy and improve it through developments such as the TS1 and electronic ignition. There were others, of course, who were equally as important, entrepreneurs who, post Quadrophenia and the Scooter Boy era, were able to run successful businesses dedicated to the Lambretta. They were living off one thing, though, its legacy. Okay, so the Indian GP managed to survive until 1997, the Spanish offering succumbing in the decade before, but that was the final nail in the coffin, as from then on, the only examples would be second-hand. It was now up to the owners and enthusiasts to keep its heritage alive.

Not worthy

So there you had it: from now on, the only option when it came to the Lambretta was something someone else had previously owned, and it could be split into three categories: Italian, Spanish, and Indian. Even while the latter two were in production, the Innocenti Lambretta was regarded as the best, and much of that was down to it being the original, with the others regarded as pretenders. “Not a real Lambretta” or “Cheaper copies” were common quotes in relation to how many perceived them. It would take decades for them to gain any recognition, and though thankfully they did, they could never reflect the value of an Innocenti Lambretta. That was shown clearly as the pricing structure set itself, with the Italian offering always being much higher.

No matter how good an example you found, the Spanish or Indian equivalents were not quite worthy. Though they had slightly different styling and mechanics, there was one common denominator: they all resembled what was considered a Lambretta. Perhaps the Spanish Lince model was the only exception to the rule, with its oddball bodywork, but the chassis, engine and general layout were those of a Lambretta, so it got away with it. Slowly, you realised a rule was forming and that the Lambretta could not dare be tampered with in any way, shape, or form. Not in relation to customising them, hacksaw the back off them, engrave the casings, anything like that was fine.

What about other options, like trying to bring out a new version of it? Not by Innocenti, they were long gone, as were the Spanish, but that still left India. They may have done away with the Grand Prix, but perhaps they could launch a new version similar to the automatic scooters that began flooding the market after 2000. There were plans to do just that, but with the company in so much financial trouble, it never happened. What if they had succeeded, though? What would that have meant for the Lambretta legacy? The answer lay in the shape of those who created their version of the modern Lambretta, and what a controversy that caused.

Social media is the perfect platform to gauge the response to anything, including new ideas, and when it came to the Lambretta, the response was rather toxic, to say the least. While the machines were ridiculed, the people buying them were berated and told they should be ostracised to some degree. It was almost as if the purists were trying to protect the Lambretta, and anyone seen to be threatening it needed to be dealt with swiftly. The problem was that the tide turned, and more and more people brought them. That meant two things: a force that could be reckoned with, and manufacturers continuing to build them because the demand was there. The battle lines were drawn, but it left many bemused, asking why it had to be like this. The answer was staring in front of them, directly in the shape of the Vespa.

The evolution of time

While Innocenti and Piaggio were the world leaders in scooter production, there was one big difference between them: one survived, while the other didn’t. There is little point in analysing the reasons why Innocenti failed; it happened, and that’s it. Meanwhile, the Vespa continued, but to do so, it had to evolve continually; otherwise, it would suffer the same fate. It has been 80 years since that evolution began, but what they currently produce is light-years from the original. With a four-stroke engine and plastic in its construction, the modern Vespa has adapted to the laws governments have served up on it. Here’sthe thing, though, because it’s been a continuous journey since 1946, what it stands for now is accepted. Some prefer the classic designs of the past, but owners of both new and old can stand side by side.

Had the Lambretta continued production after 1971, the same would have happened, because it, too, would have had to adhere to the same laws as the Vespa. Likewise, the use of plastic would have become more prevalent, and it was being introduced more on late GP models to prove the point. So the modern Lambretta equivalents, which are continually criticised, tell the story of what the Lambretta would have evolved into had Innocenti survived. Here is the critical point: because it didn’t, many believed that if the Lambretta were still rolling off the production line, it would be the same as it was in 1971. Don’t get me wrong, I am a Lambretta devotee and admire what was produced, but I understand it wouldn’t remain that way. Would I buy a modern Lambretta now? No, I wouldn’t, but at the same time, the evolution of time means I would accept them for what they are.

The Innocenti Lambretta is a legacy that endures because so many enthusiasts appreciate it for what it was. The modern take on them is what it is, and failing to accept them won’t make them go away. In certain parts of the world, they are thriving, and this magazine isn’t afraid to report on their progress. Reminisce about the Lambretta by all means, but don’t get stuck in the past; let those who want to move on with it do so. Had it been like the Vespa, this problem wouldn’t exist, but there has been a 55-year gap and a lack of understanding around the Lambretta, so… welcome to the void.

Words: Stuart Owen

Images: Dan Clare, Kelsey Media, Peter Trimming