ONE look at Moto Guzzi's 750S tells the story. All too often the manifestation of personal style emits as misplaced and cluttered, transforming the intent into foul fashion with gaudy over-decoration and a haughty sense of worth. But the 750S, as one of a very select few, skips the confusion in the way that only simple art can. The form is symmetrical; even and true without being redundant. Like the elegant stride of a beautiful Latina, the grace is neither forced nor implied, just a harmonious balance of line and radius that merge to point the form forward.

Taken at face value or flushed as the prose of a hopeless devotee, when it comes to the machines from Mandello del Lario, this writer offers no apology. From a childhood of force-fed engineering that evolved to affect my views on everything else, Moto Guzzi didn't just make sense, it defined the term. But more than admiration inspires the edification of Moto Guzzi towards the biking public, for in all truthfulness, it's an engaging tale that played a large part in shaping not just the face of the Italian motorcycle industry, but the world market as a whole.

While being less than memorable on many levels, the seventies were a culmination of postwar effort for the German and Italian makers. Pushed by the Japanese, whose production and price practices extinguished the flame heating the British makers, a similar fate awaited those satisfied with the status quo. The Europeans needed a strong response, and that was delivered in a brace of skinny-tired pavement shredders that included the Laverda twins and triples, BMW's amped-up R and RS models, MV's raceinspired Fours and important achievements from Ducati, Benelli, Bimota and others. The most dramatic were coined flashbikes by the motorcycle press; a designation conceived to describe certain engineering and fashion cues fused together for a singular purpose. Flashy and splashy, the patriarch of this movement was the Moto Guzzi 750S, a machine introduced under the considerable influence of industrialist Alejandro De Tomaso.

There seems little point in discussing De Tomaso's lengthy automotive background, except to say that it heavily prejudiced his decision making. His motivation to purchase Moto Guzzi from the state-controlled SEIMM group in 1973 is often pondered, but certainly made easier by his American wife Elizabeth Haskell and noted that De Tomaso, an Argentinean, favored the region and didn't want the Euro brands succumbing to the Japanese like England's had. What we know for certain is De Tomaso hated the twin, favoring ironically his new Honda-inspired Benelli multis. Australian author Ian Fallon, credited for his extensive research on both De Tomaso and Moto Guzzi adds this insight: "Alejandro De Tomaso believed the V7 Sport was too conservative and old-fashioned; its specification too high to be profitable. While the development team was busy working on the new 850T, they found time to create an interim model; the 750S for 1974. Although many new features were introduced on the T, the 750S was largely unaltered, leaving this single-year machine an unusual model; a bridge between the old, where cost wasn't a consideration, and the new, with the emphasis on style."

Even so, De Tomaso leaned heavily upon Guzzi's ace engineer Lino Tonti to cure the troublesome SEI six, mixing in versions of Benelli and Guzzi-badged 500 and 250cc fours. And while De Tomaso didn't completely banish the twin from Guzzi's ledger, the popular 850 Eldorado (badged the GT 850 in Europe and the UK) didn't survive his Arabian sword. After 1974, De Tomaso steered Guzzi's civilian range to be based entirely on Tonti's V7 Sport frame.

Introduced late in 1971, the V7 Sport came to be after Tonti's record-setting speed trials on a modified V7 tourer. Seeing the potential, Tonti designed a new frame to snug a revamped engine that moved its tall, belt-driven dynamo from the top of the engine by placing an alternator on the crankshaft's nose, allowing the frame to pass between the splay. Attaching the new five-speed transmission that debuted on the Eldorado, Tonti's Sport gained enthusiastic response after competitive testing on local tracks, leading to a run of hand built "Telaio Rosso" editions constructed in Guzzi's race shop. Working with then-importer Berliner, in 1974 the decision was made to offer the V7 Sport in the U.S. only while Europe and the UK received the updated 750S.

Mechanically, the 750S is nearly identical to the 1974 and previous production V7 Sports; retaining its 748cc configuration, high output camshaft, valve diameters (41/36 mm inlet & exhaust) twin 30 mm Dell'Orto VHB carburetors and gearing. Obvious differences include the 1-1/2 bum-stop saddle, black, instead of chrome Silentium "shark-gill" mufflers and a distinctive motif adorning the black tank and side covers with slashes in red, green or orange. More news for 1974 included replacing the Sport's 220 mm DLS front drum with twin Brembo 300 mm cast iron brake discs and matching F08 calipers. Suspensions consisted of Guzzi's own sealed-dampener, 35 mm forks and twin Koni shocks. Also new was standardized left-side (1-up, 4-down) shifting, but thankfully, the 750S retained the Sport's adjustable swan-neck clip-ons.

Although De Tomaso's cost cutting didn't affect the Sport's on-the-road performance, some of the luster was lost when several of its original features, namely the helical-gear timing set and the under-seat courtesy lamp, were binned in favor of cheaper options. Less noticeable changes include an H-pipe crossover in place of the V7's tuned arrangement and a rod to activate the rear brake drum. In 1975, the last 750 Sport appeared as the 750S3, now with triple discs. Cheaper, heavier and less powerful, the S3 was more T3 than Sport and failed to impress period testers.

Mounted at the fuel tank's edge, the ignition key twists car-style to start the engine, and once warm the Sport rewards its rider with brisk, if not overpowering accelerationgiven the tacho is kept above five-grand. More twisting from the Tommaselli dual-pull throttle introduces a bit of induction honk, mixing with just the right amount of tone from the Sport's straight back exhaust to keep the rider happy. The step-down to up-shift pattern is comfortable and easy to manage, but awkward and unnatural on downshifts. And while the pegs are just a pinch too far-forward for my taste, this can be resolved somewhat by the supreme adjustability offered by the clip-ons.

Low and narrow, even shorter riders can stretch over the Sport's length and hold it in place. Thank Lino Tonti for these cozy dimensions, sending a series of straight tubes that link a single backbone from steering head to swingarm pivot. Under the rider the cradle tapers one-inch from a narrow 7.5-to-8.5" and combines with a sub-30" seat height to give the 750S a truly svelte personality. Those accustomed to the portly plasticity found on modern sportbikes might find the Sport a true revelation; tempered only slightly by its modest 52-rear-wheel horsepower and heavily compacted mass. With plenty of length and rake, making time in the tight stuff isn't the 750's game, but steer towards a sweeping Mount Gringa-type mountain pass and the Sport finds its niche. Reassuringly stable in spite of its willowy fork and considerable unsprung weight, the 750S brings to light the life of a past generation and bonding with its rider. Those of you who've experienced it already understand, and for the rest, I'd suggest doing what it takes to find out.

Although lacking in performance specifications to some degree, don't pass up a clean S3 if one should present itself to you. In some ways, the S3 was an improved machine, offering a third (rear) disc brake, the dual-stud exhaust clamping that solved the thread chattering problems of previous versions. Thanks to a strong aftermarket, both the S and the S3 can be tailored to suit, but the wise will resist wholesale changes. With less than one thousand built of each, the secret is out and the collectability rate is growing. Currently, prices fall just below the V7 Sport and the iconic first edition 850 Le Mans. Our feature bike comes from Moe Moore of Cycle Garden, who purchased the bike five years ago from a German seller. A rarity in the United States, Moore considers himself lucky to have found such an original example. Making a case for Moto Guzzi's legendary durability, Moe's 750S is authentic from its slash paint down to the pinch bolts.

Often overlooked by collectors who mistakenly chronicle the (even flashier) 850 Le Mans directly after the V7 Sport, the 750S reflects De Tomaso's sense of style and panache while retaining most of the old country quality that made the V7 Sport an Italian benchmark. With its race-ready stance and style, the 750 S delivered an aggressive shot of performance/flash not visible on the more elegant V7 Sport. Conversely, 1976's Le Mans, generally regarded as better and more capable, lacks the smoothness of the 750 bore; replacing steel stampings with increased amounts of plastic. Not surprisingly, many enthusiasts consider the S the company's most handsome example ever; even spawning the firm's first retro model, the 1000S, fourteen years later. The 750S; in fact, all Guzzi twins from this period, are classic motorcycling's best value. For pure riding joy, they rank among the best two-wheel exotica from Europe, made easier by a simple maintenance regiment and benefiting from a plethora of global support. Built to be happily throttled for years on end, the big twin's rugged, simple build is an undeniable part of its allure and a point of pride for its radical fan base. Supporting it flashy persona with tangible substance, the Moto Guzzi 750S stands as an ideal representative of this unforgettable era.