Banishing the Engine Light on a Piaggio Beverly 350 (BV350)

There are two kinds of warning lights on a vehicle. The first is the helpful kind, the one that tells you you’ve left the handbrake on before you set off smelling of burning brake pads. The second kind is sent by Lucifer himself to slowly drive you insane.

Guess which one the orange engine light on my Piaggio Beverly 350 is?

For months, this little beacon of amber misery has been my constant companion. It all started when the bike’s ABS and traction control (ASR) system decided to throw a wobbly. A little orange light came on, the bike was a bit grumpy, but by turning off the ASR, it was rideable. I knew it was a sensor, probably the rear one (as I'd recently had the rear wheel out to fix a puncture), and figured I’d sort it when I got new tyres fitted for the winter. Procrastination is a skill, folks.

Fast forward a bit. A friendly mobile mechanic, out to fix a completely different issue, plugged in his fancy diagnostic computer. "Yep, it's your front wheel speed sensor," he declared. Not the rear. So I was wrong. But, at least I knew the issue.

I eventually ordered the part from Easyparts and, this weekend, with the wheels off for new rubber, I finally fitted it. I reconnected the battery, turned the key, and lo and behold, the ABS light went out after its little self-check. Victory! I’d single-handedly wrestled the beast of Italian electronics into submission.

Except, of course, I hadn’t. Because the main engine light, that hateful orange wanker, was still there. Staring at me. Mocking me.

Right. Deep breath. I tried the usual tricks. Disconnecting the battery for ages. Doing the ignition-on-ignition-off hokey cokey. Going for a ride with the master key. Nothing. The light remained, a monument to my own inadequacy.

I’d been down this road before, having bought a "FTUL M3" diagnostic tool that proudly claimed to work with the BV350. It didn’t. (Though, in a stroke of luck, it works on my BV400 in Spain, so not a total waste). I was nervous about buying another tool that would just laugh at my bike.

This is where things got modern. I ended up having a long, slightly surreal, but incredibly helpful chat with a boffin-like AI assistant. After explaining my woes, it recommended a two-part solution that actually made sense: a simple adaptor cable and a Bluetooth thingie that talks to your phone.

So, for any other BV350 owner tearing their hair out, here is the magic, no-bollox kit that actually works:

1. The Cable: Search Amazon for a "3 pin to 16 pin Fiat Alfa OBD2 adapter". Crucially, it must have crocodile clips to power it from the battery, because the BV350’s diagnostic port is as dead as a dodo otherwise.
2. The Scanner: I went for a Vgate vLinker MC+ Bluetooth. It’s a bit pricier than the cheap blue ones, but my motto is "buy once, buy well," and this little box is brilliant.
3. The App: I usually use an iPhone, and the only app I was told would work cost a tenner. But I had an Android lying around, I downloaded an app called "Car Scanner ELM OBD2". It’s free and fantastically powerful.

With the bits assembled, I hooked it all up: clips to the battery, plug to the bike, scanner to the plug, I turned the ignition on, paired the scanner to my phone via Bluetooth, and fired up the app. It connected! I had to tell the app that the Beverly was actually a Fiat (it is designed for cars), but it worked fine after that. I felt like I’d just hacked into NASA.

I found the "Fault Codes" all broken down into various sections, hit "Read," and there it all was. A history of my bike’s sins.

• P0501: Speed Sensor – The original problem. Check.
• P1607: Lambda – Ah yes, from before I replaced the Lambda sensor.
• P1800: Clutch Interlock Safety Switch – Probably from that one time I didn't squeeze the brake lever hard enough when starting it.

The key thing here is that the bike’s brain remembers everything. Fixing the part doesn’t wipe the memory. You have to go in and tell it to let go of the past.

So, I found the "Clear" button and pressed it. Section by section, I wiped the slate clean.

And the light was... still on.

For a moment, I considered launching the entire setup into next door’s garden. But then I remembered the final step. The bike's computer has trust issues. It needed proof.

I disconnected the scanner, turned the bike off, and then turned the key back on.

Click.

The light went out. It just... went out.

I’ve never been so happy to see a lack of something in my life. I took it for a celebratory ride anyway, just to be sure it wasn't pulling a fast one on me. It wasn't. The light is gone.

So there you have it. The ghost in the machine wasn’t a ghost at all. It was just a memory that needed a firm talking to via Bluetooth. Total cost was about £60, which is a damn sight better than the £100-plus for a man in a van to come and press a button. And now, I have the power. I can talk to cars. I can talk to bikes. The world of diagnostics is my oyster. Mostly.

Links to the bits I bought off Amazon (I suspect these won't work for long so just search as detailed above)...

The 3pin adaptor.

The vGate Thingie.