Allow me to introduce myself: I’m the yellow 1975 Piaggio Ciao you might have spotted on your screens every now and then. But I haven’t always looked like this.
I was born red and now I’m yellow, I started out with a pulley set-up and today I run a variator. Honestly, I think the only original parts I have left are my frame and my fuel tank (hardly surprising, seeing as they’re literally one piece). And speaking of the tank, if you’ll excuse a bit of bragging, I’m incredibly proud to say I’ve never needed a drop of Tankerite sealer, despite being parked up and left to sit for a good five years.
In other words, you can save the ‘rusty old piece of iron’ label for someone else.
Lello, Lello Favre
I became a Favre purely by chance. Honestly, if I stop to think that someone else could have been standing in my shoes right now instead of me, I don’t even know how to feel.
It went down like this: when I was fresh off the assembly line, I was a prize for pasta wholesalers. You might not know this, but well before the Favres became ice cream vendors, they were actually in the pasta wholesale game (Henry’s paternal grandparents, to be precise). A well-known brand in the trade decided to dish out Ciaos like me once a certain sales target was hit – though in all honesty, I couldn’t tell you what that number actually was. The Favres hit their target, so I was shipped off to the Aosta Valley and became Henry’s dad’s moped, back when he wasn’t anyone’s dad yet.
We were both young and brilliant back then, but if you ask me, even though donkey’s years have passed, we’re still looking pretty dazzling.
Then I was handed down to Henry.
Adventures, adventures and even more adventures
It’s not like I had much of a choice: when Favre Jr. decided to do the giro d’Italia on a Ciao, I couldn’t exactly back out, could I? But you know what? It was an absolute thrill. On our stops along the way, we were put up by our fellow countrymen, met countless people we otherwise never would have crossed paths with, and had a whale of a time. Back then, I would have told you we ‘had a wild time’, but I didn’t know yet that the bar for pure, unadulterated madness could be raised quite so high.
After that 2-month tour around Italy, we tackled the road between Aosta and the Isle of Skye in the Scottish Highlands together, took on America on a Ciao – covering a staggering 3,945 km in 35 days along Route 66 with his dad – and took things slow for a proper voyage around the world on a Ciao. You can’t even count the miles on my dash anymore, but then again, the odometer isn’t the first thing people notice about me.
You’ve got to admit, throughout all our travels, Henry has shown an endless amount of resilience. Just to give you an idea, I was born with a square saddle – which I’m told is the absolute most uncomfortable thing to travel on – yet Henry made it work regardless (he did eventually swap it out, though, because a bit of a sacrificial spirit is fine, but let’s not push it).
While it is true that I often get a bit battered, I consider myself very lucky: ever since Henry started teaming up with Malossi, I’ve had access to the best Piaggio Ciao parts on the market, which basically let me do anything. I just have to remind myself that even if I replace every single nut and bolt and feel like I’m constantly brand new, at the end of the day, I’m still the same old me.
So, how am I getting on these days? Well, I’ve just got back from the 2nd edition of the Malossi Moped Rally in Sardinia, where I served as the trusty steed for one of this year’s American riders – a total wild card who I had an absolute blast with (yep, this time you really can say it!). I’d head right back out today just to be at the bivouac again, listening to the stories and laughter, but I’ll be staying put here at the Cabanon in Aosta, waiting on Henry. He hasn’t told me anything just yet, but there’s no doubt another adventure is buzzing around in his head, and it won’t be long before we’re embarking on it together.
