A friend was off on holiday and asked if we would look after her Triumph while she was away. This meant nothing particular to me but I understood it was a 650cc Trophy of late sixties vintage. According to all those who knew the bike it was a good one. All original, nothing more than a set of rings and the odd primary chain changed in the engine since it rolled off the Meriden production line.
Seeing a faraway look in his Lordship's eye at this offer, I said yes. I knew he owned a Triumph of some description in the past and still pined for it in unguarded moments, so I thought he might appreciate the chance of riding one again. I'll never know because he didn't get a look in. It was love at first sight.
This was what I had been after all along. Physically small with low mass coupled to a decent power output, it even looked wonderful. Actually, it looks a bit rough around the edges to the critical eye, but to me the original, if faded paint and patina of age gave it an air of dignity. Sad isn't it?
There was one teeny problem, though, starting the thing. Now, I knew how a kickstart worked in principle because I was awake during the maintenance classes for the test and because all my earlier bikes had had one. However, it was all I could do to get the kickstart to budge, far less fire the bike up. The Greasy One made knowledgeable noises about high compression and clutch drag then promptly kicked it over first time, wearing nothing more substantial than a pair of trainers. A real Renaissance Man.
Suffice to say, I eventually got the hang of it and even occasionally remember the starting drill first time: clutch in, kick a few times to free the plates, choke on full, petrol on, the kickstart just past compression and then boot the bugger. Every now and then it'll kick back just to let you know who's in charge but I'm getting good at moving my knee out of the way of the tank badge when that happens. Like all good things in life it's down to practice.
When our friend returned I broke it to her gently that the Triumph would be staying with me, and here's a pile of cash to ease the parting. As it turned out this was painless on her side as she was planning to sell it, anyway, but couldn't bear the thought of it going to a bad home. One happy ending and one happy beginning.
Let's get the boring bits over with first, okay? Tyres are Roadrunners at either end and give about 20,000 miles at the front and 15000, or so, miles at the back. Final drive chains call it a day at 15000 miles but the sprockets just go on for ever. Having checked out the price of a rear sprocket (it's also part of the brake drum) this is no bad thing.
Oil gets changed religiously every 1000 miles and the tank filter gets cleaned whenever I can persuade someone else to do it. No, there are no oil leaks whatsoever. Strange but true.
Brake shoes give about 20,000 miles use on the front and about 25000 at the other end. There is a noticeable falling off in braking performance when they get towards the end of their life. Compounded by the brake cable being on the way out. Wet weather will reduce braking efficiency to almost nil. If you're unlucky enough to get caught out on a motorway, or on a long trip, in the rain and don't give the shoes a chance to stay dry. Not nice at all.
Fuel goes through the single carb at around 60mpg in my hands but he with the heavy throttle hand reckons 40mpg is nearer the mark. Mind you, he also reckons the pegs, centrestand and silencers ground out too easily, so maybe the difference isn't too surprising. These figures are only estimates because I suffered a spate of speedo cable breakages and couldn't see much point in rushing to replace them. Anyway, no doubt those awfully nice police chappies will let me know if I'm going too fast.
So, enough fact and figures, what was it like to ride? First impressions were good. There was loads of low down grunt, which meant keeping up with traffic around town was no longer a problem (compared to restricted learners). It soon became a question of how far in front I felt like riding instead. Much better. Motorways were an unknown quantity at this stage, their joys were to come later. It was certainly light enough for feet-up trickling through traffic when necessary and, even more important, low enough for the odd emergency dab when the need arose.
My only real problem was a tendency to over-brake on gravel from time to time. Always at walking speed or lower but an annoying habit, nonetheless - well, annoying for himself that is, I just don't have the muscle to kick things straight. Yet!
The headlight had been modified to a halogen unit at some point in the past and this seemed to match my preferred nocturnal velocities very nicely. In fact, the only duff point in the electrics was the horn. I know it wasn't the original but it seemed a waste of space all the same. You could hardly hear it over the engine at tickover, far less if you were on the move. It was much more satisfying, if a little less socially acceptable, to just scream abuse at whoever was causing you problems.
Overall then, it was simply a confidence inspiring piece of kit on which I felt totally at home. Even the gears on the right seemed easier for me to use than a left-handed set up. I was beginning to see why people got attached to them.
Other people's first impressions were equally favourable. The only gripes I heard voiced were that the seat was rock hard, the front end was undersprung and the transmission was a bit rough. The first two I can honestly say I have never noticed and the last was cured by fitting a new primary chain and tensionser - even I could feel a difference. Truly biking bliss.
The next year or two were filled with me blatting happily round the place with a big grin on my face. I'll own up here to being a fair weather rider (brought up in the tropical bit of Australia, I have a really low tolerance to the cold) but that's not to say the Triumph got off lightly. Oh no! As soon as the winter muck descended it was commandeered by you know who when his decomposing Jap four became too much of a handful on icy roads. No matter what the weather, the Triumph just plodded on regardless.
1993 saw me and the Triumph face up to the last challenge - touring. The previous owner had taken it all over Europe so I wasn't in any doubt that it would be okay for a jaunt around Ireland, but would I? I decided against the DIY rear-sets that had come with the bike as the stock riding position was just fine for me. Concessions for touring were therefore limited to a pair of throw-overs and a rucksack. Fairings? Top box? Tankbag? Panniers? Don't make me laugh.
My touring buddies were armed with a dog-eared Honda CB750FA and an equally tired Yam XJ650. As such, their bikes were deemed more suitable, by me anyway, to carry the heavier stuff, such as tool and spares. As things turned out, we didn't need the half a workshop we were carrying, spanner bending being limited to tightening the odd nut or two on the Triumph, adjusting the chains once and ripping out the Yam's killswitch. Mind you, if we hadn't had all the tools, no doubt something would have blown up big time.
Motorway cruising turned out to be pretty uneventful in the end. I'm not sure I'd have been so happy if I'd known what speed we were doing but, as there was only one working speedo between the three of us (it wasn't mine), 75-80 didn't cause me or the Triumph any hassles. No, it was a turd brown Escort which did that.
I never had any real feelings about Hereford as a place before the holiday but now I associate it with wet roads, arseholes in Escorts and no small degree of pain. It was the usual pull out, don't look, oops, what was that bang? Damage to the Triumph was minimal, in fact it didn't even stop running despite lying on its side with petrol pissing everywhere. I was more shocked than hurt, I suppose, but that didn't make me feel any better because I still had a long ride in front of me and I really didn't feel like it all of a sudden. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, right? Needless to say, it was a slow and painful ride to the B & B but we made it eventually.
The usual application of brute force saw the Triumph put to rights and a few brandies fixed me up. The Escort owner got a surprise when he found out how much damage he'd done. Well, how much damage I reckoned he'd done anyway (classic motorcycle mate, parts don't come cheap for those). The resultant readies just about made up for the inconvenience, and paid me for agreeing to keep the insurance companies out of things, and certainly made our stay in the Emerald Isle a little more upmarket.
In fact, the only other hassle I had on the whole holiday was a filling coming loose. Everyone claimed it was the crap dentistry. I certainly seemed to suffer less on the dead finger syndrome after any long blasts than the Jap pilots, so who knows? Despite all warnings to the contrary I really don't think the Triumph is that bad a shaker. Certainly, things like bulbs can be relied on to last for years rather than days and, to date, I've never lost anything worse than a footrest bolt.
And there you have it. I've succumbed to the charms of an inert piece of machinery and I wouldn't have it any other way. Or, there again, maybe I would. An electric start would be nice, so would a fifth gear for motorways and a bit more bite to the brakes wouldn't go amiss either. I couldn't bring myself to change the Triumph, so maybe another bike is on the horizon. Ducati's 600 Monster looks like it would fit the bill but the cost of such exotica is out of my reach for the moment. Give me a few years, though, and maybe I'll be drivelling on about one of those. And an update on the Triumph, of course.
Jo O'Brien
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What can you say about old Triumph twins? You either like them or hate them. Simple as that! Or maybe you can hate them and love them at the same time. Indifference doesn't come into it! I'd owner a couple in the seventies, when they were cheap but not particularly cheerful. Most of the problems came from the neglect and bodging of previous owners. Those hassles and the sheer performance of the Japs made me move on. Current offerings are too expensive and complex for me, so I went back to the Brits.
There are two distinct worlds in the British bike movement. There's the collectors, who like the big stuff like Bonnies, 650SS's and Vincents. Then there are the real bikers who go for a state of mild tune, sensible mod's and practical updates. What to buy then? Around two grand to spend. Had to be a Triumph twin, I knew the breed so well, less likely to be ripped off.
After viewing a couple of right dogs, I found a nice 1968 650 Trophy. Not too shiny but no rust and the motor was exceptionally quiet and oil tight. The owner listed lots of mods, amongst them upgraded main bearings and electronic ignition. The Trophy's the single carb version of the Bonnie, extra grunt at low revs, smoother and better economy. Lacks go above the ton but by then the vibes were teeth rattling, no great loss.
I was sold on the machine despite some misgivings about riding it every day. It was soon in my garage. It was fun. A big 650 twin in its day but considered a lightweight, now. Only 360lbs and narrow, easy handling whether in town or on the open road.
The clutch was very heavy but the bike would run down to 25mph in top and pull off on the throttle without any need to hustle on the heavy but precise four speed gearbox. Running around town in second gave enough acceleration to burn off middleweight Jap's but it was left standing by the replica's, which reared up on one wheel almost completely out of control. Rather silly!
The engine put out a mere 40 horses at 6500rpm, a point beyond which it wasn't really worth revving, though it'd touch 7500 revs in second or third when I was in a hurry. Vibes poured in above 5000 revs, which made such revs suitable only for brief bursts of acceleration, but below those revs the engine was much smoother than I'd expected. My recollection of Bonnies included bits falling off and the time a filling actually fell out, but I had every reason to believe the previous owner's assertion that the motor had been rebuilt with a lot of tender loving care. Easy to check from the lack of noise, vibes below five grand and oil tightness. There's no reason to accept anything less, these days, if you're paying thousands for one.
Its short 56 inch wheelbase, and lack of mass, made it dead easy to throw around, yet the suspension was taut enough for the bike to hold a decent line. Many Triumphs weave nastily in bends but later bikes had the benefit of using extra plates between frame and engine to support the swinging arm.
A decent set of Avons and effective maximum speed of 100mph, meant I had no problems with the handling. In fact, I felt a damn sight more secure than on most Jap's of my recent acquaintance that put down the power so viciously that not even ultra sticky modern tyres could keep them in line in the curves. In the wet, I was faster than most, lacking totally the feeling of imminent disaster that, say, a ZX-10 gives out.
Weeks, then months, went by without much trouble. Even the chain didn't need adjusting. In case you're wondering why Jap chains last so poorly compared with the Triumph's 25 to 30,000 miles (on non O-ring types!) the answer is very simple. Jap motors run 14 to 16 tooth engine sprockets which in their small diameter stress the chain. The Triumph runs a 19 tooth engine cog! Okay, you've got to take half the engine apart to get at the bloody thing, but as it rarely needs replacing this isn't the disaster it might be. A new chain can be threaded through on the end of the old one, by the way.
With electronic ignition and a single carb all I had to do every 500 miles was set the valves. They were always close to being out of their limits so not something to neglect! Triumph valvegear was always a bit dodgy, not so much bad design as poor quality materials or machining. Valve guides can fall out and rockers wear rapidly. But good modern components assembled properly do last reasonably well, at least 20,000 miles.
I changed the oil every 2000 miles. The separate tank wasn't a good idea, as it's all too easy for the oil pipes to crack or fall off. A wet sump would've been much better. At least the gearbox oil is separate, allowing thicker oil better suited to the cogs. Explaining the excellence of the gearchange and, perhaps, the heavy action of the lever. Neutral was a bit elusive at times, especially when the engine got warm from riding in town. The oil pump's not the strongest in the world, but, again, there are better after-market items available.
The combination of single carb and electronic ignition gave the bike exceptional economy. The four gallon tank lasted for well over 250 miles unless the motor was really pushed. Run above 5000 revs - as mentioned not a good idea, but I had a few 90mph motorway drones - fuel was a poor 50mpg. But general riding, whether in town or country, gave 65 to 75mpg! In other words, as good or better than the vast majority of modern 125's! Where, you might well ask, has modern motorcycle design gone wrong?
Obviously, the Jap's concentrated on making their engines as oil tight and reliable as possible, which basically meant the widespread adoption of the across the frame four. Then they got into performance above all else. The result, incredibly fast and expensive bikes that have worse fuel consumption than the vast majority of cars. No wonder more and more old British twins are being put back into use!
To be honest, I didn't use the Triumph over the worst of the winter months. I liked it too much to subject it to constant acid rain and salted roads; though its finish was probably better than most Jap's. Nope, I had an old Bantam for the messy stuff. I'd junked a lot of surplus metal and it'd fly along in town, though was a bit useless out of it. But as my commute was across town this wasn't a problem and it was generally reliable. I had been offered a Tiger Cub, but they are, in my experience, real little thugs that are okay for throwing off cliffs... er, sorry, off-road use...but hell as a sensible set of wheels. Sorry, if you don't agree but I've fallen off and broken too many Cubs to get that whacked by the rosy glow of nostalgia.
I do about 5000 miles a year on the Trophy, without any real hassle, just giving it a bit of tender loving care as and when necessary. Not only was it trouble-free but I've enjoyed each and every mile I've ridden the bike. I know a lot of people don't want to give up their Jap's for the unknown and unpredictable world of old British twins but sometimes it's worth taking a chance.
So what's so good about the thing? It's just the way it all works together to give a relaxed, safe and fun ride. Vertical twins have been much overlooked by the excess of fours but the way they make their power, even if there ain't all that much of it, is kind of cool, laid back. The trouble with modern fours is that it's easy to get bored with them, moving on and on until you end up with a 180mph piece of madness that you can't really use. Much better to buy an old Triumph and enjoy what it has to offer. Suppose I'm getting a bit more mature in my old age. Still, I wouldn't mind the new Triumph Daytona.
Dave Rollands