I’d always wanted a British bike - seven years ago my dream was fulfilled. A beautiful Triumph Tiger 90 of 1968 vintage. Of course, I’d heard the horror stories, but all that metallic blue silver had won me over before I’d even ridden the thing. Three hundred and fifty quid worse off, I rode out of Solihull, disappointed in the bike’s low geared feel but soaking up what I fondly imagined to be admiring glances like a sponge. And believe me, after a year on a CZ175 in Hammerite dark green, that was a new experience.
Things went pretty well that first summer - nothing broke except that the bike seemed reluctant to exceed 5000rpm or about 60mph. Oh, and I ran into a C50 head on; strange but true. The Honda was written off, but my lovely T90 shrugged the incident off with only a bent front wheel rim and slightly out of true front forks.
Anyway, time passed, the exhausts grew steadily smokier and the engine more rattly until a fairly long trip saw my first big engine failure. You know how it goes, riding along, not a care in the world, when one suddenly becomes aware of A New Noise. After a few miles it becomes no worse and gets put on the back burner of the worries list. But suddenly it’s serious. Stop, dismount and push the last two miles. Several weeks and an expensive rebuild later we were back in business.
It took six months of ownership to really get to know the Triumph. It accelerated with gusto between 3-4500rpm but feebly elsewhere. If the bike was happy to trundle along at 50mph on the flat, that speed quickly disappeared when faced with a hill or head wind. Quite embarrassing. really, as to the uninitiated it looked just like a Bonnie. I soon learnt to give up trying to keep up with modern 125s and tried to look superior as I rumbled around town. There is one advantage of those small pistons and minimal revs, vibes are never intrusive, in just over 30000 miles I’ve only had two bulbs fail.
Other nice features QD rear wheel, the addition of a Morgo oil pump and a TLS Bonnie front brake (spongy but powerful). Also, it’s blessed with 12V electrics which have not given any trouble except for the time the wiring behind the gearbox melted - as the ammeter isn’t lit at night, the first I knew of the problem was when the headlamp started to dim. After 60 miles I was stopped, but the police officer seemed more interested in the age of my tax disc. After 100 miles I was stopped again, this time because the headlamp had dimmed to Ever Ready cycle lamp levels. But the nice gentleman was very understanding and he even phoned home for me. Help arrived and I rode the last 20 miles home with a car battery in the pannier.
Over the next few years the Tiger and I settled down to a steady relationship. There were no major mechanical disasters, though I do remember being supplied with Tiger 100 pushrods, which because they’re slightly taller proceeded to destroy the upper cups against the rockers. For some reason the bike had been fitted with rocker arm balls slightly too big for the pushrods, so they had been bearing directly on the cup’s rim rather than snugly inside the cup. Still, these things are sent to try us, though rather expensive at £2.50 per pushrod. Valves aren’t cheap either, though for all I know Japanese bits may cost even more. Funnily enough, I’m still on the same valve guides the bike had when I bought it and it doesn’t use much oil.
In fact, during this time the old stick was proving pretty reliable. I did a round Britain (well, England and Wales) charity run, at the cost of one tail lamp bulb, and even settled into a 30 mile a day commuting routine for a time. Regular oil changes helped of course, doubly important for Triumphs of this era because of the awful coarse filters. The only answer is to invest in a cartridge filter conversion and/or flush out the oil tank at every change. The lubrication system is a masterpiece of engineering allowing grit into the oil pump, which reacts with the rest of the system to send oil out through the overflow pipe rather than back to the tank.
Once, after work, a crowd gathered around the bike to see if it’d start first kick - self congratulation was rapidly spoiled when someone pointed to the large pool of oil under the bike. This isn’t so bad, what really upsets owners is when a large quantity of oil is suddenly deposited on the back tyre. The six pint oil tank can be quickly drained and this led to the second bottom end rebuild, a cheapo job that only lasted 5000 miles.
Rebuild number three was done by a Triumph specialist, expensive but worth it. But three rebuilds in 30000 miles? Doesn’t that prove that British bikes in general, and Triumphs in particular, are simply fragile? But there’s also the Triumph’s confidence inspiring stability, wonderful noises and the fact that it has rarely let me down out on the road. And I’ve lost count of the number of conversations starting, "That’s a nice old Triumph you’ve got there." If goodwill sold motorcycles, there would still be thousands employed making them in Britain. And it still looks beautiful after seven years.
Furthermore, if current asking prices are any guide, it’s now worth around twice as much as I paid for it back in 1981. If all this sound like the ravings of a typically prejudiced, one-marque enthusiast, you're probably right. But as Ted Simon wrote in Jupiter's Travels, after riding around the world on a Triumph, "They thrive on attention, like certain people, and repay you for it. Not a bad relationship to have."
Peter Henshaw