Remembering Paul Smart

English rider Cliff Carr and I were in Italy. We had driven his Transit van across Europe to arrive at Imola by sundown, before the day of first practice. Seeing Paul Smart over by Ducati’s famed “glass van,” Cliff walked over and greeted him, asking the natural question, “What are you riding?”

“It’s some kind of new Ducati. I haven’t even seen it yet. They’re telling me it makes power at 9,750! Is that even possible?”

Paul was talking about the new bevel-drive desmo V-twin. The engine’s 90-degree vee angle made it self-balancing, so it was able to operate at high revs without shaking itself and the bike to bits.

Little did any of us know that the events about to transpire would establish Ducati as a successful producer of big, powerful bikes, not the little singles it had built so far.

“And they’re even telling me the thing is safe to eleven!”

Further conversation revealed that Paul had been away from home when Ducati called. His wife Maggie (Barry Sheene’s sister) had answered and told them yes, he’d love to do it, please call back at such and such a time to work out the details.

So here he was, having just flown in. Why was he so surprised at 9,750 rpm? Because he’d come up in the world of Manx Nortons that were shaking hard at 7,200 and breaking crankpins too often. And Triumph/BSA triples, such as the one he’d ridden to a compression-overheated DNF at Daytona in the year before, revving to 8,500.

I was learning that Paul was cheerful, pleasant, and “adaptable”―meaning ready to tackle whatever looked like opportunity.

As we know, Giacomo Agostini was expected to win that weekend’s Imola 200 on MV’s shaft-drive 750. He did lead, then stopped. Paul and Bruno Spaggiari went on to finish 1-2 on the new Ducatis. This was the first of the European big-bike races, inspired by the Daytona 200. For a time in the early 1970s, even in Europe, the glamour of this big, fast new 750 class put even the 500 GP bikes in the shade.

Paul’s riding style was a more radical version of John Surtees’ method of sliding to the inside of the bike in turns, thereby allowing the motorcycle to remain more upright, benefiting from tire footprints wider than possible on the tires’ edges. Paul was criticized at the time by self-described “purists” who claimed to know the best way to ride―without actually doing so themselves. Surtees had been forced to adopt this technique because his Manx Norton’s frame tubes grounded when using new higher-grip tires.

Paul would soon take on another challenge. Seeing the growing success of the two-strokes, he accepted Bob Hansen’s invitation to ride one of Kawasaki’s new 750 H2-R triples in the US AMA series.

Cliff and I were campaigning our “barn-job” version of a similar bike. At the end of that year we had it working well, so much so that Cliff was able to lead the two-leg 250-miler at California’s grand Ontario Speedway. It wasn’t to be. Cliff suffered a crank failure in the second leg; Paul swept into the lead, and by winning, collected a total of more than $30,000 in combined prize money and manufacturer’s contingency. He and Maggie promptly bought a house.

Quite rightly, to this day Ducati’s spectacular entry into the ranks of big, superfast bike builders is associated with Paul Smart. So much so, in fact, that in 2006 the company produced 2,000 special Paul Smart Replicas, up-to-date technologically but evoking the style of the winning 1972 racers. Their silver metalflake fuel tanks were a visually distinguishing feature.

As part of the Replica’s promotion, Paul and Neil Spalding were sent on an around-the-world tour. On their way across the US, they stopped here for a short visit. Paul said, “I was pretty sure we’d found the right place because I could see a master rod from a radial engine in one of the windows.”

I am proud to have known him.