I first saw the Triumph parked in the street. Only five years and 15000 miles old, the big twin shone in the bright sunlight. None of that crap Jap alloy, plastic or chrome. Here was the real thing in all its black and red glory. The first time I saw the Triumph I wanted it with almost sexual lust. I couldn't stop myself swinging a leg over her!
‘Here, mate, what the fuck do ya think yer doing!?’ The owner, all worn leathers and denim, had to take that exact moment to come out of whatever sewer he was lodging in. Well, it seemed like he just popped up out of nowhere and the smell was more disturbing than his appearance. I muttered an abject apology and asked if he wanted to sell the bike. He did. A brief if terrifying blast on the back convinced me that all was well and a day later 1500 notes changed hands.
Being a trusting kind of chap I didn't test the bike again before handing over the money and didn't suspect that the name in the logbook bore no relationship to the person I bought the bike off! What I think had happened was that overnight he'd taken all the good parts out of the engine and replaced them with near wrecked bits. That’s the only way I can explain the churning vibes and lethargic performance. On the test ride I'd been impressed with the way the bike had hit 90mph, now it didn’t want to do more than 60mph!
After a five mile ride I came back home with shaking hands and wrecked vision. When I put the Tiger on its side stand the stand broke off at its mounting and the bike bounced on my driveway. Putting it on its centre stand was a back breaking affair and it felt rather precarious, as if that stand was going to break off as well. Huge gobs of oil dropped on to the drive, sending my wife into a frenzy of abuse. I was close to breaking point by then, but kicking the cat had to suffice as the wife was bigger than me!
I played around with the ignition and the plugs, pulled the fuel pipe, ever hopeful of an easy solution. I tightened up the engine bolts as they were loose but two bolts snapped off and one stripped its threads. By the time I'd found some replacements the drive was covered in an oil slick! The Triumph uses a large diameter frame member running from the headstock down to the swinging arm, curving gracefully over the engine. It’s a neat bit of design that even survives in the new Triumph triples and fours. However, in the twins it contains the engine oil and under the influence of the chronic primary vibes from the big vertical twin engine it can crack up.
After I'd taken off the cycle parts and removed the engine, some very nasty looking cracks were revealed in the frame. Things turned even more ominous when I stripped down the engine cracked cylinder head, burn out exhaust valves, bent pushrods, ruined bores, loose big-ends, elastic primary chain, wrecked clutch and a few other minor things. In effect, the bike was close to being a complete write-off!
The wife had a grand old time abusing me for being a total sucker, so I sold off her Mini for 500 notes and started visiting auto jumbles. It's surprising what you can find here. One chap wanted to sell me a ‘new’ frame, still wrapped in cardboard. When | pulled some of this off it revealed even more cracks than my own frame. I was determined not to be ripped off twice and over three months I managed to buy most of the parts secondhand at lowish prices. The rebuild took just a week. I'd paid for a re-bore to match used pistons and rings, and bought a pattern gasket set. Total cost was £525 which included a good secondhand frame. Tigers in immaculate condition do fetch over £2000 so I wasn't yet too much out of pocket.
Of course, the engine refused to start for the first five days. The Tiger, despite its mild tune, needs one hell of a kick and more than twenty attempts left me knackered. Brand new plugs, heated to near melting point over the gas-stove, did the trick and left me with bandaged hands from handling them - the things we do for wheels!
I feared that the bad starting was the result of a poor rebuild, but the bike had plenty of guts up to 90mph, would even put 115mph on the clock. Alas, using more than 5000 revs brought in incredible levels of vibes. A taste of this was seen in the way the Triumph shuffled across the tarmac when at tick over on the centre stand. The front guard also twitched away in rhythm with the buzzing.
The seat was remote from the vibes and was very comfortable, almost armchair-like. Just as well, because the stiff suspension only had a couple of inches of travel that did little to remove the bumps and potholes. The steering was steady and on Roadrunners the chassis was secure. At around 400lbs it was quite flickable but always heavy going. It was the kind of bike you could grow into and learn to love.
If it wasn't for the engine. OK, the components weren't brand, spanking new and I’m not the best mechanic in the whole world (but the motors are supposed to be easy to work on, aren't they?) but it took less than 800 miles for some major traumas to turn up. It happened at the beginning of the winter, just as I was congratulating myself on my choice of machine - the Tiger felt really secure on the slimy road surfaces. Crunching noises started to come from the engine, sounding like metal was breaking up. The primary chain had broken up, mangling the tensioner and then wrapping itself around the crankshaft.
That was bad enough but the sudden loss of speed allowed a car to back end me. The bike and I slid down the road in different directions. I’m sure the cager swerved at me, or perhaps he was just avoiding the bouncing bike. Anyway, I sort of threw myself off the road, rolled into a ditch and then head-butted a large rock. Fortunately, my helmet was cracked rather than my skull. I was a bit dazed as I pulled myself back up on to the road. No less than six cars had skidded into each other and the bloody bike had no more damage than a few bent ancillaries - I was hoping it was written off and I could claim on the insurance.
The end result of that little incident was that the insurance company refused to renew my premium, doubtless putting a black mark against my name for the rest of my life. A newish primary chain and tensioner were duly secured and I was back on the road within a week. I had absolutely no faith in the Triumph, though, even if it wasn't too expensive on fuel, about 60mpg. 500 mile services and daily bolt tightening were tedious, especially when clowns on Superdreams, and the like, kept screaming past at unlikely speeds.
After one vicious effort with the throttle, to see off a CX500, I pulled over to have a much needed cigarette. The cylinder was jumping up and down because its retaining nuts had started to come undone. The vibes really were insidious, short of installing the bike in a Commando frame there was no easy way of eliminating them. I couldn't take any more, after 1300 miles I wanted shot of the bike.
There is a happy ending to this tale of dread. The Triumph looked beautiful, an excess of gloss, despite everything. Some suited gent turned up and insisted on giving me £2500. I almost got down on my knees to give thanks for my good fortune. The wife almost smiled at me until I went out and bought a ’68 Bonnie...
V.N.M.