Having reached the age of cheaper insurance, I thought at last my dream of owning a Triumph could come true. I studied MCN each week and eventually found a dealer with a reasonably priced (as in dirt cheap) 1980 T140E. So, I eagerly went over to view it.
She was hauled out from the back of the shop where I was told the mechanic had been borrowing it for a couple of days. But when I went to try it, no go. Hindsight now tells me I should have given up there and then, but I was already feeling sorry for the poor purple and oily, rust heap. I was promised that by the next weekend she would be running okay and have an MOT, so I put down a holding deposit and went back home.
The following Saturday, a mob of us went over with the cash and then I was the proud owner of an UK spec Bonnie. Once home it was general viewing time and even the neighbour gave it the thumbs up, he once having owned a Matchless combo. My brother then tried sprinting it up and down the road to find out the neighbours' tolerance level and at what speed the oil leaks started (about 30mph).
I started out with all the good intentions of sorting her out and going back to original spec. I also thought I was going to keep a log of all that happened. Both ideas ran out of steam very quickly. I was too busy fixing her to write up a log and I even became quite fond of the purple colour.
The next day in a fit of enthusiasm I cleaned the bike - I don't think it knew what the soapy stuff was. The engine appeared to run better without a year's worth of oil and mud covering the alloy. My first really irritating problem occurred at the end of the second week when, just as I was about to go blasting off into the distance, the throttle broke. It was not long after this that I purchased a parts manual which made life a lot easier.
I soon found that the battery needed constant care to keep the beast from refusing to start. Then the switches fell apart and the first light bulb blew. A new set of switches and the first of many bulbs later and we were back on the road.
I met an old school friend who had owned a Bonnie for ages. He was able to instruct me on the finer points of tappet adjustment and carb balancing. It made the bike run that much better. Then, on possibly the wettest evening for years, I took my girlfriend home on it - 30 miles all in the rain. After dropping her off it was quite late and dark. Part way round the North Circular I plunged through a huge puddle, only for the whole bike to stop. With the rain pouring down, I tried to get her going. An hour later and I'm soaked to the skin, she decided to play again, only for the front light to fall out at Hanger Lane and eventually for the bike to stall not far from home.
One expensive dealer service later it was all systems go, although I was warned that it would soon need an engine rebuild. A new Roadrunner meant it now went around corners without the back wheel doing a 10" slide. I decided that it was time for a good long run - Lincoln and back. It rained all the way there but the bike ran without a hitch.
On the way home, crunch, grind, bang. No power, so I coasted into a layby with the clutch in to find the rear chain in two pieces. It had also jammed around the front sprocket. A guy on a BSA gave me a split link but the chain was locked solid. The bike had to be brought home in a van. As the sprocket is hidden behind the clutch, I took the opportunity to fix the clutch slip at the same time as replacing the chain.
The Kent show was next and after chasing around the M24 at far above legal speeds (I'm not sure of the actual speed as the speedo always wavered violently), when on the M20 the exhaust fell off - luckily we recovered it only slightly scarred but the footpeg was lost for good. Fortunately, I found one at the show that fitted.
Many a happy month then passed. The odd front bulb blew and the indicators were removed by a Renault 5 - but surprisingly all seemed to hold together well. So it was then the Rockers Run to Portsmouth with the girlfriend on the back. No problem, we kept up with most and even overtook some. The clutch started to slip on the way back until eventually changing gear was a real effort and finally she would not start. On investigation, the locknut had fallen off the clutch adjuster and was happily rolling around the primary chaincase.
By now the tales of woe were beginning to get the boss annoyed, and the fact that the bike was making me late for work could no longer be accepted. I bought my mate's 1976 T140V off him - the theory being that two Triumphs can't break down at the same time.
Despite what had happened on the last run to Lincoln I decided to repeat the trip. I set off once more north to find that the speedo broke, the rear brake pipe sheared and just about every gasket in the engine blew. I managed to limp home, though, even meeting a fellow Triumph owner who was having an even worse day, ending in the recovery services taking him home.
This final trip made my mind up, the bike had to go. I had the chance to buy one of these newfangled Kawasaki 650s dirt cheap. So, after asking around, I found someone willing to buy the bike without a test ride or owt like that. He paid me and rode off. The last I heard the bike was undergoing open heart surgery and was in a 1001 bits.
The other Bonnie has since had her fair share of problems, mostly electrical, and is currently sitting in the back of my garage. Luckily, I still have the Z650 to play on, though it's not half as much fun. Doesn't quite get the same looks and is boringly reliable. Running a Bonnie is fun as long as you have the time to play with it. The disease is catching as my brother now has a 650 Triumph chop, which is a totally different kettle of fish. My Bonnie will probably undergo major surgery this year. It's great fun when it actually goes.
Bosun