Triumph 900 Trident

The biggest problem I had with the 1993 Trident was that every time I stopped someone would come up to me, wax lyrical about his time on some dreadful old relic of the British motorcycle empire only to go off muttering when he realised that the Triumph cost as much as his commuter tin cage. Even the indifferent neighbours were almost on talking terms with me despite the healthy burble out of the exhaust. The naked, almost sedated lines of the bike, plus its infamous badge, made it much less threatening to clueless civilians than the flash, brash race replicas.

Which just goes to show how looks can deceive. The watercooled, 12 valve DOHC three cylinder engine puts out nearly a 100 horses at a mere 9500 revs and 60lbft of torque at 6500rpm. Dry weight is a claimed 470lbs but by the time four gallons of fuel and a sump full of oil were added the rolling mass was over 500lbs. It says a lot for the urge of the engine that this excessive weight does not impede rapid riding.

With the coming of the 100hp limit on motorcycle engines, the 900 can be considered par for the course as far as engine tuning goes. This hp limit will force the motorcycle industry to develop their bikes in a more rider-friendly manner. Triumph have already gone part of the way, with a power output that is as impressive in its development of torque as in its sheer outpouring of ponies.

In its way, the easy going grunt of the engine, which meant it could be slung into an appropriate gear and left to its own devices, was just as well as the box was only up to the standards of a three year old Honda. Missed changes were rare but it needed a firm foot that would have Royal Enfield owners weak at the knees and all misty eyed and didn't respond at all well to clutchless changes. That said, shod with some decent boots, after about a week of hustling the change became second nature, so those who take one for a test ride should not be too dismayed.

They might be more annoyed by a relatively light front end, partly the fault of the quite high and wide bars which looked somewhat out of place in the otherwise classical lines of the Trident. Oh, for some Vincent flat bars. What was most surprising on a bike so heavy was that going into wheelie mode was just a question of selecting first, second or third and giving the throttle a good hard twist.

The first time this happened I wasn't expecting it. I was pottering along in first gear trying to convince myself that the top heavy feel would dissipate if I gave the bike its head by twisting and weaving through the heavy traffic. Then some joker on an MZ decided it would be fun to cling to my numberplate for as long as he could. I hit the throttle in my annoyance, suddenly finding the front wheel waving above the roofs of suitably chastised cagers.

As the rev counter spun to 10,000 and the exhaust snarled nastily, I had visions of returning the Triumph to its owner in a couple of boxes of broken, bent bits. It wasn't so much as out of control as feeling like it was going to loop the loop. The solution was simple enough, kill the throttle, but in the few moments that my brain took to recover from the shock to its system I had the unpleasant feeling of being totally out of control.


Unlike my old machine, which despite trying very hard never delivered the nerve tingling acceleration I loved and occasionally loathed so much, the Trident charges forward at a fantastic rate even in the taller gears. The echo of the three cylinders on cam adds to the effect. It can be stomach churning, gut busting, arm wrenching, neck snapping, etc., etc.


It all depends on what you are used to, of course. But even bigger, more powerful fours lack the midrange torque of the triple, which delivers its punch exactly where it's needed for road riding rather than the extended race tracks that seem the norm for race replica tests. I thought I could live with less power, in the case of the Trident I'm damn sure I'd never grow tired of its torque.

Triumph's triple cylinder engine has proved the most popular of their range, the 900 version outselling the 750 several times over. All that remains of the four cylinder range is the 1200 Trophy and Daytona, whilst the 900 range has been extended to a half fairing Sprint model, trailster Tiger, Trophy tourer and Daytona sportster. It's interesting to note that the Japs never took the three cylinder concept very far, the awful Yamaha XS 750 must have convinced them otherwise.

The Trident doesn't vibrate to any appreciable degree, there's just the gentlest of thrumming at high revs that is too mild and lacking in intrusiveness to be called vibration. Certainly, it's smoother than many a Japanese four with none of the dead fingers or feet effect on long runs.


Top speed is supposed to be about 140mph but I never got that close. The wind blast above 90mph makes high speeds an incredibly tiring affair. I once hit 130mph for a few moments but felt no inclination to hold on to it. Taking on a contorted, uncomfortable riding position, allowed me to do 110mph for half an hour before my muscles started screaming abuse.

It may seem a bit churlish to complain about the naked Trident when there are several fairing options available that would solve the problem but I've ridden twenty year old BMWs which had riding positions that allowed 100mph cruising in much more comfort than the Trident managed. Different handlebars are the answer but narrower bars would obviously limit the ease with which the bike can be chucked about at low speed.

Triumph uses a large diameter spine frame, not dissimilar to Elgi's past efforts, with the engine hung below and used as a stressed member. This isn't very trick in certain circles but works fine. Triumph have combined reasonably supple suspension with a stiff chassis and good geometry to lose most of the mass once more than 40mph is achieved. Below that it's a bit top heavy and the braking is sharp enough to upset its poise. As with the gearbox, after a week or so the effect goes into the background as the human mind adapts to its idiosyncrasies.

Only the ease with which the front wheel would leap off the tarmac when exiting corners caused any real concern. It was just a question of using a taller gear than you'd normally select, using the superior torque of the engine to pull the bike out of the curve. The 900 could be gently braked in bends without inducing heart failure, but the immensely powerful front twin discs needed to be treated with caution.

Just gentle two finger pressure on the front brake would have the wheel locked up as solidly as my bum muscles. It was yet another thing that needed a little bit of adaption (depending, again, on what you've been riding in the past) but eventually revealed itself as having some feedback that would allow tolerably safe braking in the wet.

My overall feeling for the Triumph is a bit ambivalent. It's got a great engine, looks butch and goes as wildly as most of its rivals. It also sounds beautiful, has first class finish and is made in Blighty. However, fuel was poor at 35 to 40mpg, it was hard work in town due to the mass and the new price, although competitive with the Japanese, is too much for me.


With the 100hp limit the next step along the line of development is to lose some pounds and improve efficiency. The next model might be so good as to cause me to go deep into debt, the current one isn't quite there, but if you're rich, or can find a used one cheap, go for it.

Dick Lewis

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If it hadn't been a Triumph I probably wouldn't have bothered. Modern motorcycles do not have much appeal to me but echoes of my past caught up with me when I viewed the new Trident. A watercooled triple with twelve valves and double overhead cams, as modern as any Japanese bike. From the right-hand side the bike looked neat, from the left there was a mess of plumbing obscuring the hulk of alloy engine. This was a first generation motor, overbuilt and just a little messy.

That impression wasn't apparent from the seat, though. An excess of torque flowed in, needing a firm grip on the bars to stop the wind throwing me off the back. This was a good time machine, something that was immediately evident and an impression that time has done little to diminish. Just as the Triumph name had got me back into mainstream motorcycling, the bike itself persuaded me to head for the open road for a month of touring.

It was so long since I'd used my tent that the canvas was full of holes. Some new gear was acquired and strapped down on the pillion perch. Wife and children were, thankfully, left to languish at home. I was going to travel light and fast with no encumbrances. The Trident was initially comfortable but by the time I'd done the 225 miles to Dover, running along the motorway at 90mph most of the way (the bike giving 40mpg), my backside was beginning to complain.

The seat's nicely sculptured but the shape forces you into one position. The bars and pegs are well matched for out of town work but at city speeds I found my thighs a bit cramped. It showed all its weight as I manoeuvred into a gap in the ferry's hold. I almost lost my footing on the deck, felt the whole bike beginning to tip away from me. A back wrenching time was had pulling it back from oblivion.

France was full of madmen but such was the rush of freedom once on foreign soil that I grinned evilly and just joined in with them. The miles flashed by fabulously, frantically, with 110 to 120mph on the clock during main road riding. I didn't even slow down through the storms, as I was already clogged up in my gear whilst the tyres and brakes reacted well to the savagery of the elements. In no time at all I was rumbling into Paris, as grime splattered as I was totally exhilarated.

Parisian motorists vie with those in Rome for being the craziest and some of the road surfaces are as slippery as Chinese tyres. If you don't know what you're doing you can ride around Paris ten times before working out how to get into the centre, a puzzle compounded by the fact that every time I pulled over to check the map I was given a barrage of horns and one completely mad jerk tried to take my leg off with his 2CV.

The Triumph couldn't exactly be danced around slow moving cars, being both a touch heavy and wide for the wilder manoeuvres but there were at least no nasty surprises lurking in its chassis or brakes. When I finally found a hotel within shaking distance of the Gard du Nord, I noted that all the engine screws had come out in a rash of rust, probably down to the acidity of the French rain.

The Frogs proved not very amiable to being shouted at in English and I didn't find the grime encrusted and heavily polluted centre very entertaining or even romantic, so I threw a coin which indicated I should roar down to Lyons. The first hour proved tres traumatic as a porker cage sat on my tail, even turning off with me when I went to fuel up. I glared at the cop behind the wheel and he touched his nose knowingly. I was tempted to go ape on the throttle, having previously tasted 140mph but figured that was what they were waiting for and there was no way even the Trident could beat the speed of sound (their radio).

By the time they tired of the game I was ready for dinner. I headed for Auxerre but it didn't appear, instead I ended up in small town called Courson. Bloody French road signs. Anyway, I managed to raid a small shop for rolls, butter and pre-cooked Ham, ate that whilst leaning on the Triumph, with some furious glares from the inhabitants who evidently thought that a meal consisted of several courses served in amenable surroundings. One thing I have found with motorcycling is that it's very difficult to meet people and the wife quite happily waves me off, secure in the knowledge that any nubile is likely to be more interested in a seat in a Porsche than a go on the back of the Triumph.

After dinner I kept to the back roads, not too worried about ambling along as even if the night fell suddenly the Trident had an excellent front light. The bike would take slow curves with reluctance but securely enough, although it didn't like violent use of the brakes. I found the hydraulic clutch a bit tiring after a few hours in the seat but the more interesting roads allowed me to ignore any pains in my backside, or maybe my body was just adapting to the Triumph's layout.

One reason for heading for Lyon was that my cousin was working there and would put me up for a few nights. I rolled up at his house at about seven in the evening, after a marvellous diversion that involved a thoroughly delinquent race with a pack of Paris Dakar replicas - I was finally burnt off by a race spec TDM850 that went past like it could do 150mph. I was a bit knackered but my cousin insisted that we go for a ride. After a quick shower I let him loose at the controls, repeatedly warning him of the ease with which it'd wheelie.

15 minutes later, he finally stopped trying to throw me off the back and was frantically explaining to the gendarme why we'd gone past them at 70mph on one wheel (this was in Lyon not on the open road, by the way.) Anyway, a huge pile of French francs got them off our backs. To this day, I'm not sure if it was a fine or bribe. My cousin had gone crazy on the Trident because he hadn't ridden a bike for six months and because the torque was kind of intoxicating. I kept the bike shackled and the keys hidden.....after abusing the clutch it was definitely rattling.


Another bit of coin tossing revealed that I should go across country back to the coast and Bordeaux. About 500 miles of high speed insanity, with flat out blasts that really strained my neck and shoulders along the straights, and some crazy undercarriage grinding through the longer curves. It wasn't so much that the Triumph lacked ground clearance but that I was becoming confident in the tyres' grip and the rigidity of the chassis, which belied its origins (backbone tubular in design) by holding the excessive mass right on line despite a surfeit of speed and bumps. 

To be honest, I much preferred to be in the saddle than trying to fight a path through the unfriendly French, be in it restaurants, nightclubs or bars. They were as arrogant as they were hostile even when I threw out the odd word of French there was no hope of educating them as to pronunciation. The only language I've come across that is spoken in an even less meaningful way to how it's written is Welsh. You have to feel pretty sorry for a race that obviously only have the slightest knowledge of reading.

Bordeaux had some kind of street festival, procession or mere protest (French peasants are very voluble, something to do with the revolution and unlike the English variety don't know their proper place) going down. The police were out in force but it was hard to tell if they were merely observing or about to beat the shit out of everyone. Spying a gap in the ranks, I charged the Trident through, only to have the crowd close around me. They didn't seem too amused to have a huge English motorcycle in their midst, nor at my attempts to cow them into submission with the horn and throttle. World War 3 was narrowly avoided when another gap opened up and I roared through that to the strains of Rule Britannia (at least in my mind, although the exhaust could do a reasonable impersonation of a saxophone on heat from time to time).

One thing I did find was that after a hard day's riding at improbable speeds the last thing I wanted to do was blow energy on finding a camp site and erecting the tent. A luxury hotel was much more fun and the plastic would contain the damage until the next month. Unlike the UK, fifty quid a night would buy somewhere rather nice and I could luxuriate in a hot bath until the pains went away and then wander around town in the night.

It's important, though, to make sure there's secure parking for the bike as even in rural France thieves abound and an English numberplate is an open invitation to being ripped off. Even a couple of cagers tried to knock me off when they clocked the numberplate but throttle abuse invariably saw them off - it pays to keep your eyes open.

After Bordeaux it was the usual thrash along the coast, which was crowded with cars but had some great beaches full of lovely nubiles who invariably looked at me as if I was moments off death, the only men over forty who were acceptable were those who were accompanied by Porsches and the like. Well, as the wife's reading this that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The whole coast is better suited to sightseeing than riding big motorcycles, though there were lots of kids posing on replicas and even scooters.......a shapely young lady draped over one of those almost converted me to the cause despite spending a little bit of my youth beating up Mods.

The coin tossing decided I should cross over into Spain and ride the coast all the way around to Portugal where I had an ancient aunt who, having promised to leave me her apartment, was obviously worth a visit. As has already been well chronicled in the UMG, the Spanish have some nasty driving habits, which basically consists of every driver in the country putting his foot flat on the floor and driving on the horn. That's how it seemed to me after crossing the border.

Call me a coward if you like, but after the excesses of the first day, which had got me to Santander, I was all for loading the Triumph on the ferry and heading home in comfort. Alas, I could not penetrate the mass of lunatics who were trying to do exactly the same thing.

Hotels were cheaper than in France but somewhat less predictable. At 3.00am someone started hammering on my door, screaming Spanish and then throwing up in the corridor. I hunkered down under the blanket after trying, and failing dismally, to summon help on the telephone. At breakfast, one of the waiters looked just like Manuel in Fawlty Towers and sure enough launched a tray of food over the head of a huge American. I was in hysterics and the guy came over full of venom at his complete loss of face. I quit laughing before he started to hit me, a deference sufficient to avoid hospitalisation.

As I had plenty of time I decided to take it easy with a few diversions inland to avoid the worst of the traffic. Minor roads had rotten surfaces and very unpredictable farm vehicles that gave the triple discs a real work out several times. The Triumph always pulled up straight and remained controllable however extreme the abuse.

The Spanish were a bit more friendly than the French, especially in the smaller villages, where the sight of a foreigner was still cause to stop conversation. One time I dropped the bike on a bit of gravel and a couple of old guys almost came to blows sorting out who would help me right the Trident.

I ended up in La Espina for the night, not out of any choice but because I ran out of fuel there. Stayed in the back room of some old widow's house, who kept giving me the evil eye and looked relieved when I roared off, the next morning, back down to the coast and the Costa Verde. Lots of highway madness but few big motorcycles to race with. By then I was cursing the Triumph for having an insufficiently loud horn and being too heavy to sling through town traffic at excessive speeds - I was becoming as mad as the Spanish!

After an incident with a few crazy youths that I only survived by running for the Triumph and gunning it out of town, I decided a hard thrash across country into Portugal was next on the agenda. The Trident shook and rattled but did not roll as I made tracks that caused the cops' hair to stand on end. The aunt was shocked to find a grime encrusted biker on her doorstep but soon recovered. I eventually put the bike and myself on the ferry for the home trek - you can have too much of a good thing!

Martin Longman

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A lot of nonsense's been written about the Triumph's spine frame. The only problem with it is the silly mess of brackets needed to support the swinging arm - the support should've been integral with the engine (as pointed out in the UMG four years ago!). If they'd done this the frame would have been much simplified, probably have weighed less than the current alloy job.

Where Triumph continue to fail in their chassis design is that the part of the petrol tank where the rider's knees go isn't narrow enough. This gives the bike an ungainly feel, that's reflected in the complaints in the press about it being a bit top heavy. The seat height is also on the tall side for those under six feet and there's close to 500lbs waiting to topple over. Mostly, this weight is only problematic when trying to park up - it's dead easy to get stuck if there is a reverse camber!

The idea that the large diameter spine frame, which uses the massive bulk of the engine as a stressed member, is in any way weak is ridiculous, merely a reflection of the massive ignorance of the journalists in the glossy press. The structure's complemented by a strong aluminium swinging arm, with eccentric chain adjusters - a nice quality touch.

The feeling of top heaviness fades rapidly once 20mph's on the clock, fades even further into the background after the first couple of months. It can still occasionally catch me out when parking or bunging the bike on to its stand. The overall impression I gained from the handling comes more from the absence of speed wobbles, wallowing or weaving, than any immediate feeling of excellence. It's the kind of bike that impresses the more you use it!

Comfort, similarly, doesn't offer the immediate ergonomic brilliance of a BMW Boxer but the first time I did 200 miles I was left impressed with the lack of pain. The most I ever did in a day was 1200 miles! I didn't escape without some cramps and pains but recovery was merely a matter of a nice hot bath and an hour's rest and relaxation. My lady friend, though, suffered from terrible cramps in her legs - the crunched up pillion riding position not suited to women who have legs that run all the way up to their waist!

The Trident always needs a firm grip on its bars. One of the oddest things I found was that the front wheel could flutter a little and at the same time a lot of muscle was needed to swing it through the bends. I always ran the suspension on its hardest setting, the bike already having done 20,000 miles before I bought it, doubtless wearing out its suspension to an extent. Although the front end felt loose, at times, it never developed into a serious wobble.

I threw a great mixture of riding at the Triumph. The daily commute through London, for instance, showed it up as too heavy for comfort in the first couple of weeks but I soon adapted to its ways and could be seen racing with DR's for the smallest of gaps - though this is a three cylinder machine, it doesn't seem much narrower than a four; something of a disappointment.

Most evenings I rode out of town, flying along the motorway at insane speeds - 100 to 125mph - only limited by the presence of the police. Hustling through my favourite country roads, which often wound back on themselves until I felt a little dizzy, the Trident going almost horizontal. The Metz tyres gripped lovingly on the tarmac, allowing me to get away with murder!

Its weight limited the speed with which it could be thrown from side to side. It needed a fairly careful grip not to throw it over too violently as there was a point when it felt like it was going to float down to the horizon without respite, but this limit was soon learnt, assimilated; became part of the fun of hustling the bike.

The Triumph wasn't really brilliant in one area. More, it was its lack of limitation in all areas that impressed. Versatility was its calling card. A reassuring part of the package was the way the tyres would squirm before finding their ultimate limit, giving plenty of warning that it was time to back off before death was imminent.

By far the best part of the Trident's the engine. A watercooled DOHC triple, a big hunk of alloy that dominates the appearance of the bike - the very lack of frame rails obscuring it emphasizes the bulk. On paper its power of a 100 horses isn't that impressive - no better than Japanese 600 replicas - but it develops that juice at a mere 9000 revs, and the maximum torque comes in at only 6500rpm.

This makes a hell of a difference on the road. Whereas the hot 600's are dependent on much gearbox abuse, the Trident seems indifferent to which gear it's in - just hammer the throttle and it flies along. There was a bit of a stutter around 4000 revs; nothing major - more a reflection of the way the power flowed in so fluidly at all other revs.

Indeed, I inadvertently did a couple of wheelies, when letting the clutch out too rapidly with the motor wound up to 7500 revs. I liked to go all twitchy on the throttle just to wallow in the aural experience of the triple on song. The clutch wasn't so much as heavy in action as violent and lacking in feedback, easy to get it wrong until used to the machine's wacky ways.

When the bike reared up on the back wheel I felt my sanity threatened but I needn't have worried as the Triumph was still well balanced and would come down gradually if I backed off on the throttle. One friend has a Speed Triple, he absolutely loves to run around on one wheel, seems addicted to it. The downside came when his clutch developed massive slip, like 40mph at 8000 revs in top gear!

It's dead easy, then, when screaming out of bends in third to get the front wheel going all light, giving the bike a very flighty feel. It's hard to make the back wheel lose traction, though a patch of gravel once had the whole rear end trying to swing the bike back the way it'd come. Only the end of the patch of gravel saved me from falling off, but the feeling of 500lbs of metal going totally out of control has stayed with me to this day!

In the real world of UK riding, the engine's power is absolutely marvellous. It's really up to the rider how he wants to play it - just use the throttle in a tall gear or go a little crazy on the throttle and gearbox. I haven't ridden the new era of Triumphs, may therefore be entirely wrong, but it seems to me that in their original 900cc triple engine Triumph have the definitive motor; no need to try extract yet more power out of it. Much better just to keep shaving mass off the machine...if Honda can make a 420lb 900cc four, surely Triumph can make a 400lb 900cc triple!

One area where the Tridents have taken some stick is their gearbox. They are somewhat variable, the good ones passable, the bad ones up to the same standard as Honda - in the modern world of testing, minor imperfections in the action are much criticized. I had a good test ride on mine, couldn't find much to complain about in its actual action. It's worth riding a few examples to get a feel for the engine and gearbox.

My main complaint was the sheer excess of ratios. The only reason Japanese bikes have six gears is so that the testers can report impressive acceleration times in the magazines. This is bad enough, but with an engine like the Trident's it doesn't need more than four gears, could maybe get away with three. This would allow Triumph to make the engine less bulky, complex, expensive and heavy. No doubt their marketing men would have fit.

That's a minor quibble on my part. The major point with this engine is that it's done 80,000 miles with a minimal amount of maintenance! A good part of that coming from long touring holidays (I'm a teacher), both in the UK and on the Continent. Whether hurtling along the autobahn at 130mph or crunching down country lanes at 50mph, there seemed no limitation on the Trident's relentless nature. The more the miles piled up, the more the impression deepened that the engine was bullet-proof!

Two minor hassles occurred. Firstly, the head gasket started seeping oil, soon cleared up with a bit of pressure on the head's bolts. Secondly, the ignition module failed, replaced via the breaker - luckily it happened in London, so I was able to park the bike up and take the Tube to the breaker's. Both these problems are quite common on high milers - I always carry a spare module when on Continental treks!

The three carbs, having worn somewhat, now require 1000 mile balancing sessions. Triples are notoriously difficult to make smooth running, when the carbs go out of balance the intoxicating nature of the engine's power does a runner. Not a pleasant experience, having a motor full of stutters. The other thing with out of balance carbs is that fuel dives to less than 25mpg.

At best, it does 35mpg, more like 30mpg under high speed duress. Much of that comes from the nature of the three cylinder mill. As it's used as a stressed frame member it has to be smooth, but triples can never match the smoothness of a four, so it has a balancer system to take out the vibration - it must also absorb some of the power, making the engine less efficient than rival fours. Emission and noise laws also limit the engine's efficiency, and the excessive weight is the final killer. The silencers haven't rusted out yet, I'd like to see how it goes on a three into one exhaust.

The rest of the finish is pretty good, though I've always given it a weekly clean. Earlier Tridents didn't have such a good finish, rust on the fasteners letting the side down - when searching for mine I came across the odd one that was in a sad state, with more oil on the outside of the engine than inside! The exception rather than the rule.

If you hunt around the dealers it's possible to buy a brand new one for around £6500, most of the attention now on the new Daytona and Speed Triple. That's excellent value, feeds through to used prices. No need to pay more than £5000 for something that's nearly new and has less than 5000 miles on the clock.

Something still in fine fettle, but a year or two old, with up to twenty thou under its wheel, goes for £3000 to £4500, depending on the time of year and the demand in the area where it's on sale. I scouted around the country when tracking mine down - a little time and effort really will turn up a bargain.

At the bottom end of the market, the tired ones go for around two grand. Under all the gunge, they may be in reasonable nick - this is one tough cookie, after all - and an engine that runs poorly may just need a valve and carb session. It's not a bad idea to buy one with a tatty chassis, strip it down to the frame and engine, replace all the hefty standard bits with lighter stuff and turn it into a less heavy bike - fundamentally, that's what it really needs!

So it's not a nutter's bike, much more suited to the mature rider, or at least the serious enthusiast. I don't see any reason to trade mine in at the moment.

H.T.


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It was an easy enough deal. Ride down to London from Leeds (on the back of a mate's BMW), buy a 19000 mile Triumph 900 Trident and then the both of us head for the Continent. Full of visions of open roads and young babes. Of course, nothing is as easy as it seems. Having to ride through a hailstone storm added spice to the early morning motorway blast, Gerry (the BMW pilot) gibbering away about flying reptiles - I put it down to alcohol poisoning, as the previous night had been celebrated in fine style.

London ate us up, threw us through various boroughs until we ended up totally exhausted in Hackney. The private seller turned out to be a back street dealer with a motley selection of used hacks but he claimed that the Trident was his personal machine - his name, as third owner, had been in the registration document for three months. These people are like vermin, get everywhere.

The Triumph didn't seem badly affected by falling into such hands, ran with a nice baritone wail and nearly tipped me off the back of the saddle when the owner gave her some stick in third gear. He was a bit patronising about my lack of height and was dubious about letting me loose on the tall saddle of the Trident but a quick flash of the used fifty pound notes I had in my pocket was all it took.

Couldn't find anything wrong with it and he accepted a fairly low offer for cash right there and then. As the alternative was going on the BMW's pillion perch there wasn't much choice in the matter. Not that there was anything wrong with the Beemer's comfort it was just that the owner had a penchant for dozing off at the controls after a long hard day! A couple of times he'd woken up to find the Beemer heading for oncoming traffic, only their horns blasting saved him!

I'd come prepared for the Triumph, wearing a pair of boots with very high heels that felt like walking on stilts - at only 5'6" I had the same hassle with most bikes of a decent capacity. What I hadn't been so prepared for was the top heavy feel of the triple, it threatening to topple over in low speed manoeuvres. Once more than 25mph was on the clock, though, it felt a lot more secure even if it still needed plenty of muscle through the congested London traffic.

Its only advantage over the Beemer, a relative lack of width, though there were no obvious benefits over a modern Jap four. Power was easily controlled, the bike happy enough to troll along in third gear at minimal revs and shift rapidly with just a bit of throttle abuse. The real power was beyond six grand but there was no need to indulge in such revs in town.

Judging by the heavy triple cylinder gurgle the silencers had been degutted. Combined with the BMW's rumble it made for a joyous symphony as we began to give the bikes their heads as the Smog was left behind. The Trident's limit on motorway cruising was soon found at 95mph, nothing to do with the engine's power, which was barely into the heavy sector, but the force of the wind trying to break my shoulders and neck in half. The Beemer could hold as much as a ton-ten before its rider started wincing with the pain.

I didn't find the Triumph's saddle particularly comfortable, either, though it improved over time, or my backside toughened up. A few mad throttle blasts at least compensated with harder acceleration than the BMW and a reading of 140mph on the clock. By which time I was flat on the tank and full of the feeling that I was too young to die.

Not that the Triumph was anything other than virtuous in its stability, especially compared to the R which had a weaving back wheel from 90mph onwards - it looked worse from the rear than it felt from the saddle! No, it was just the sheer velocity and the force of the self-induced gale that got to me.

I soon became used to them, though, really cracking along on German autobahns when the limit on our velocity was set by the R topping out at 120mph. The Bavarian beast got its own back by turning in much better fuel than the Trident's alarming 25mpg; the tyres also lasting twice as long - the big heavy triple needing new Metz's in as little as 4000 miles.

As they were already quite worn when I bought the bike I was soon into rubber problems (and not just with the pro's in the old Eastern Germany!), manifested as some quite serious weaves above 80mph. Triumph's engineers had obviously put a lot of effort into making a large, top heavy motorcycle handle well, only turning really vile when the carcase began to show. Not really recommended, grappling with the handlebars amidst hordes of German cagers who wanted to do 120mph to my own 70mph suicide dance.

The Germans treat motorcyclists very nicely, doing a tyre swap whilst I sat in a luxurious chair being plied with endless coffees. They sit you down so that you don't fall down when presented with the bill. Mr Amex took care of that, I decided not to worry until next month's statement. We were also staying in reasonable hotels but at least their prices were in the real world, always less than fifty quid, often less than half that. A bit of luxury after a hard day's ride.

The Triumph felt quite squirmy for the first couple of hundred miles until the rubber bed in, I just didn't want to lean it over into the corners, much to the amusement of Gerry. But as soon as the tyres were working there was no way he could keep up with me on the straights or in the bends.

Long distance racing would've evened things out, though, because of the Beemer's much better range and comfort, the Trident requiring frequent stops for ass relief. Otherwise I'd end up doing a John Wayne, attracting unwanted attention from undesirables, especially in Italy.

The Triumph was really tested in the Alpine bends, dizzy heights matched by dangerous drops. In the really tight switchbacks, I was amazed to find that the BMW had the legs on the Triumph despite its unlikely arrangement of cylinders and shaft drive. Perhaps my terror threshold was a lot lower than Gerry's, though he spent most of the tour mildly intoxicated from a stash of Ganja bought in Amsterdam. Another reason not to go pillion with him.

In Italy we hit a really frantic pace for no good reason that I could see, it certainly wasn't suited to the way the cagers drove all over the place. Many times I had to brake harshly and throw the Trident on to a whole new line whilst blasting away on the horn and cursing my head off. The brakes were powerful until they became excessively hot when they went a bit feeble. The pads only lasted about 4000 miles, but that included a lot of frantic braking in Alpine bends; don't know how worn they were when I bought the bike but there seemed plenty of material when I initially checked them out.

After a hard day's ride both the controls and the feel of the bike went very heavy, becoming tiresome as I tried to fling the Triumph through the traffic in strange Continental towns. Gerry reckoned he didn't have a problem with the BMW in similar circumstances, though in Rome he took off the sides of two cars with the cylinder head but so tough was the Beemer that we didn't hang around to trade insults. After all, our Italian phrase book didn't run to swear words.

I managed to topple over on the Triumph when trying to park up. I put my boot into a pot-hole not knowing it was there. Once the bike goes a little off the vertical, it slams down rapidly. I kicked myself clear, landed amidst some German ped's, who could only grunt in outrage rather than help me raise the bike from the pavement. If you're a six foot six ex-boxer it's probably a one man job but two mere mortals are usually needed.

The normally orderly Teutonics almost killed both us west of Munich... we crested a rise to find two large vans having a race, effectively taking up the whole road. There didn't seem any way out other than to smack into them head-on, but disaster was averted when they had mercy, both going wide, leaving us a line through the middle. Suffice to say, it was such a close scrape that the Boxer had paint debris on each of its cylinder heads! At least Gerry dived in first and I knew if he survived then so could I.
There were plenty of other encounters of the close kind but it's amazing what you can get away with on a large, modern motorcycle, the massive amount of acceleration combined with relative narrowness can pull you out of all kind of situations that in a car would cause a massive pile-up. On the other hand, you have to take into account the seemingly mad antics of Continental drivers, most of whom are in another world with regards to traffic laws. The Germans the most orderly; the Greeks the craziest, with the French and Italians not far behind. British cagers aren't so much mad as merely incompetent.

So, in about a two weeks the Trident did around 5000 miles. The engine had nothing more than one oil change but was running quite rough once back in the UK. Fine again after a carb balance. Very heavy on tyres, brake pads and fuel, it turned out a much more expensive proposition than I'd planned. So much so that I had to sell the bike, a great pity as it was otherwise an excellent tourer. At least I made enough of a profit on the deal to cover my touring costs.

Prices for Tridents vary enormously. After selling the 900 for three and a half grand I bought an early 750 for 1200 notes. Nothing wrong with it except for the 78000 miles on the clock and a tarnished, rusted fastener, finish. Both models would greatly benefit from losing lots of mass and a more efficient engine design, but as triples they make for interesting motorcycles.


H.W.

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Well it all began early in '93, I'd been through nearly 40 bikes in the last 14 years, of which the last half a dozen or so were new Japs. I'd already owned various tatty Bantams, Cubs and the like and I'd always hankered after a decent Brit bike since I saw a shiny Bonnie belonging to a neighbour of mine when I was a nipper. So I thought 'F..k it, if I don't do it now I'll never do it.' Anyway, the new generation Trumpets were said to be on par with the Japs so I shouldn't have any problems with reliability. So I went ahead, sold my 1000EXUP, and bought a brand new, gleaming black and red 900 Trident.

Well the first 600 miles went fine until I decided to take a trip to show my new bike to my mates in Dundee. By the time I got there the Trident and I were covered in oil! Did I get the piss taken out of me or what! All the usual Brit bike jokes from my mates, even the old man said 'I told you so!' Well, it turned out that the grommet holding the igniter cable in the crankcase had gone AWOL leaving a nice half inch hole for the oil to come out ! It wasn't that bad in the end, once it was sorted I never had any trouble like that again.

Since I've had the bike it's been through various phases - from cafe-racer with clip-ons and the like, through to its current incarnation: Sports Tourer. I've made various mods over the past five years which I reckon have cured any shortcomings which the bike initially had.

The original front brakes, which were 2-pot floating calipers and solid discs, have been replaced with GSXR750 4-pots together with two stainless brake lines direct from the calipers to master cylinder, and the larger Daytona floating discs. A larger bore master cylinder is not essential, but may be fitted at a later date to reduce lever travel. These all bolt straight on and have improved the braking tenfold. It has totally cured the brake fade which used to occur when thrashing the bike, or when two-up touring over long distances. The 4-pots are also less prone to seizure.

The suspension has also been uprated to cure the wallowing and fork dive which occurs once everything gets hot during a good thrash. I have replaced the fork springs with ZX10 uprated items along with 15W oil to suit. The forks have also been dropped through the yokes by 12mm to quicken up the steering. I also junked the rear shock in favour of a fully adjustable item with a stiffer spring (Quadrant Dynamic).

This has tightened up the handling no end and the bike now feels far more planted and stable, as well as having improved steering. I also fitted a Rear Hugger to protect the rear shock and rear brake master cylinder from any crap thrown up by the rear wheel.

The original headlight has also been replaced in favour of a Sprint Manufacturing twin Cibie half fairing, along with early Triumph Sprint bars. This has reduced rider fatigue dramatically enabling a higher cruising speed on motorways, as well as reducing fuel consumption by around 4mpg at 90mph. The twin cibie's are also a great improvement over the original light.

I've also got a set of Triumph panniers which I fit when touring, which apart from making life a lot easier also help increase stability at high speed (no more floppy bags fixed on with bungee cords).

Performance-wise, I've also made a few much needed mods. The original silencers have been replaced in favour of lighter stainless Muller Technic race cans. The restriction in the down pipes (taper at the end where the silencers slip on) has also been removed, along with the baffles in the airbox. A K&N filter fitted and the bike set up on a dyno.

These mods have greatly improved throttle response as well as smoothing out the power curve and giving an extra 10 bhp at the top end, without any losses at the bottom end or mid-range. The only down-side is that the average fuel consumption has been reduced from 43 to 37 mpg, which I reckon is a reasonable trade-off, considering the improvement in performance. The bike also sounds the dog's bollox with open cans fitted!

Here's a few hints and tips which I'll also pass on. Always dyno a bike if fitting race cans. Even Dynojet kits aren't that accurate and the bike should be set up on a dyno as soon as possible after fitting such a kit. Better still, f..k the Dynojet kit and just get the bike set up on a dyno, and save yourself at least 90 quid in the process. The Dynokit supplied for my bike left it running dangerously lean at the top end, whilst being over-rich in the midrange (wrong type of needles and size of jets!).

If rebuilding Triumph brake calipers use early CBR600 caliper kits/parts for the early two-pots, and early GSXR750 kits/parts for the four-pots, this will save you a lot of cash. For example, Triumph don't supply replacement pins or boots for their floating calipers, whereas Honda do for exactly the same caliper!

Don't bother with ordinary NGK plugs, go for the fancy ones as they last longer and give a better spark. Go for sintered pads to prevent brake fade, not the eco-friendly 'green' ones. When fitting new brake lines junk the 'splitter' and run both lines up to the master cylinder, this will reduce the cost (2 lines as opposed to 3) plus reducing sponginess and making bleeding a lot easier.

Use decent oil, not cheap stuff, and change it regularly. My bike's done 60,000 miles and doesn't require top-ups between oil changes, and it's been thrashed to death! It averages 37 mpg, running better on leaded petrol (don't ask me why!). It does 4000 miles to a rear tyre and 6000 on the front, Bridgestone Battlax rubber works best.

The chain & sprockets last around 10000-12000 miles, using Silkolene chain lube which seems to stay on the chain the best (I'm considering getting a Scotoiler to improve chain life!). The clutch pushrod oil seal lasts for around 36000 miles (remember to turn around the pushrod when replacing the seal, so that the ridge worn on it does not reduce seal life).

The fork seals and stanchions will last forever if you fit gaiters, use motocross items, shortening them to suit. Last winter, I replaced all the bearings in the swinging arm after finding that the seals had perished, so check them out and save yourself some cash. The same goes for the steering-head bearings.

Also, if using WD40 in the winter to keep the salt from lifting the paint on the engine, keep it away from the inlet stubs because I went through 4 sets before discovering what was causing them to perish and split in half!

Don't forget to keep an eye on the wiring loom because it's prone to corrosion if neglected, try to clean and WD40 all the connectors at least twice a year, before and after the winter silly season.

Well that's all the tech stuff out the way, what's it been like to own for the last 5 years or so ? F..king alright that's what ! It's managed to fill the role of commuter/tourer/scratcher admirably. I've done everything from two-up touring to Europe for 3 weeks or more, through to thrashing the bollox off it - easily competing with (and sometimes burning off!) ZXR's, GSXR's and the like down the back roads.

Mind you, as most of us know, in the real world on bumpy back roads covered in gravel and cow shit (well at least they are up here in Elgin), most well set-up bikes will perform the same regardless of their age. The most outstanding feature of the Trident must be the stonking mid-range, enabling you to leave most Jap bikes for dead exiting corners, plus making touring so much more mellow and relaxed without having to do the gearbox shuffle like you do on so many other bikes when two up with luggage.

It's also got that solid planted feeling like it's on rails, much like an old Rickman CR1000 I used to have. It doesn't suffer from that twitchiness that you get on a lot of more modern bikes on bumpy roads. Yet you can still scratch with the rest, the ground clearance being much improved since sorting out the suspension.

It's also supremely comfortable two up, no numb-bum or aching arsehole like you get on other bikes. The wife even manages to nod off on the back when travelling down south on the M6 ! Can easily manage 600 miles or more in a day without feeling like you've done 10 rounds with Mike Tyson!

Am I going to get rid of it soon? Not f..kin' likely! There would be no major advantage in a new bike now I've got the Trident how I want it, plus I'd spend a load of cash that would be well spent fixing up my other 3 bikes (Dnepr outfit, 500 Bullet and my trusty old Z200), or beer of course !

Finally, thanks must go to Trev at Sprint Manufacturing for the cheap but quality spares and all round good attitude. Highly recommended. Also thanks to Russ and Co at Pro-bike, Inverness for the dyno work. Also well recommended.

Tim Fowler