Been there, done that. I definitely didn't want yet another Japanese four. No, siree! The last CBR900 had almost killed me off, doing the 175mph dance of defiance along the M3, pursued by no less than three cops cars. I only escaped retribution by slicing between two rows of cars and exiting before they had a chance to get their act together.
No, I needed a steed that had something more than outright speed and acceleration going for it. Enter the three cylinder Triumph, much more unique than the almost ubiquitous Honda even if the end result lacked the CBR's radical power to mass ratio. The Honda was sold before the cops tracked me down, a swift change of address making sure there were no comebacks. There followed a pleasant enough week of testing out T595's, plenty available as its fifteen minutes of fame had already passed, replaced by the R1.
Felt big and ungainly compared to the CBR but the motor was well grunty at lower revs. My legs were widely splayed and my wrists attacked the bars at an uncomfortable angle. A lot has been said about Triumph gearboxes, but it felt smoother and slicker if heavier than the CBR's, so I wasn't going to complain. One of the high milers, though, had, at 56000 miles, a penchant for missed gears that had the revs trying to go wild, only saved by the rev-limiter. Handling was both heavier and steadier than the CBR, the latter's front wheel always seemed to have a mind of its own without actually going terminal.
Motorcycles have to be evocative, though, the Triumph way ahead of the rest with its alloy frame, meaty growl and sublime looks. I eventually bought a 9000 miler that looked like it had just come out of the crate. The owner the usual born-againer who had suddenly gone off the idea of biking when confronted with a typical British winter.
I left him mouth agape by doing a massive wheelie, the like of which I don't think he'd ever even contemplated. The Triumph, on one wheel, was well balanced until I had to change a gear when it gave an almighty jerk like the back wheel was falling out. The front end clanged down at a rapid rate, throwing the bars into the mother of all wobbles. The bike seemed reluctant to sort itself out and I began to wonder if all those rumours of the headstock snapping off were maybe true. Not the kind of thought you need to contemplate on a 170mph motorcycle, is it?
Back on two wheels, we rode on towards home with the setting sun to our rear, a bellow out of the (drilled!) exhaust and some serious speed on the clock. I say 'we,' meaning bike and I, a bond setting in quickly; must've been the way I was straddling the Triumph like it was some big fat Negro mama and the loony tunes out of the exhaust, about as close as a motorcycle gets to saxophone highs. I soon grew to love the way the bike would kick its heels ferociously in top gear just as the ton came up on the clock. Wham, bang, thank ya mam, that's 150mph in the blink of an eye, motorcycle confiscation, two million points and, on a bad day, six months jail time. Way to go, man!
The one problem I had with the T595 was with the front brake. The Honda had sharp stoppers so I was used to the need for a gentle caress rather than hairy armed grab on the lever, but the Triumph's discs were as grabby and desperate as a politician separated from the trough. The back disc and engine braking kept me out of the hospital but it was a pretty close run thing. Especially when the skies began to open. Added to the nasty braking was rubber than felt very edgy on the wet road surface...turned out they were the wrong type and size of two different Metz's! Plonker!
Anyway, home was reached in one piece, the bike showing no signs of its ordeal by high speed torture. Given the reputation of those hordes of Triumph twins I half expected a bit of oil leakage but she was as tight as the Honda had ever been. Parents, neighbours and the odd passer-by all clustered around the big yellow beast in an awed way that had never happened with the CBR. Some of them refused to believe, outright, that such an object of engineering excellence had been conceived, designed and manufactured in Blighty!
Having sorted the tyres, bunged in some new disc pads and changed the engine oil I was all set, albeit more than three hundred quid poorer than I'd expected - these yuppies obviously ain't as dumb as they look. I was used to blowing a few hundred quid every 2500-3000 miles on the Honda, so I don't really have any excuse for whining away about the high cost of modern hyperbikes. Before passing over this subject, as quickly and as painlessly as possible, the Triumph gained no credibility or praise when I worked out that fuel ranged from 20-30mpg. You might get a bit more if you ride like a pensioner but what's the point of buying a big bike if you don't ride it like a nutter?
If both riders are mad, then the CBR900 will kill the Triumph, after a bit of a tussle. If the Honda's owner is halfway to sane then the Triumph has enough of the right stuff, when ridden madly, to win the day. Yamaha R1? Nah, we don't want to talk about that, do we? I felt safer on the Triumph, which to a relative novice probably means it's the better bet. Whereas the Honda felt like it was going to let loose in a big way but never actually did, a couple of times the Triumph lost it all when too much power was applied too rapidly coming out of corners. The old highside blues turning into a hinged in the middle feel when I slammed the throttle shut. All of these kind of bikes produce so much power that it's dead easy to kill yourself if you don't know what you're doing.
Where the Triumph differs, slightly but importantly, from the rest of the plague of hyperbikes, is that its triple cylinder engine has enough character to encourage you to loll along at 120mph rather than blitzing everywhere at maximum speed. 70mph is still so totally tedious and boring, though, that the motorway speed limits are plainly ridiculous for modern motorcycles, twice that more like it whilst restricting cages to, say, 40mph!
As to the rest of it, the Triumph's too heavy, too slow turning and too wide to really make it against the likes of the R1. But does it matter? Not if you can tune into the engine's unearthy note and graduate on its excess of character. Prices are likely to fall yet further - really immaculate stuff for less than 5000 notes - can't be bad, can it? With ever shortening product life and cycles it's unlikely that any European company is going to compete successfully against the might of Japan; Triumph, Ducati and BMW likely to end up producing quaint motorcycles rather than state of the art stuff; surviving merely because they are different. And that makes me kind of happy.
G.G.L.