Oh, no, not again. I couldn't believe the lust I felt when I saw this old Trident up for sale in the local dealers. He mostly sold Jap stuff, so the gleaming Brit came as an even bigger shock. The five grand price almost had me thanking God for greed, no way I could afford that. Phew! Then the dealer offered a grand off for my barely working CX and waved a pile of HP forms under my eyes. Sign here, here and here! £120 a month for five years! I have never dared to work out how much that comes to in total; it matched perfectly the dosh I was wasting on cigarettes and therefore the perfect excuse to give 'em up.
The only thing these old Triumphs have in common with the new ones is the number of cylinders. The T160 had much more in common with the sixties Daytona, an amusing vertical twin that needed revs to work but wasn't built to survive high speed running for long. Add another cylinder and you end up with the T160. To simplify things greatly because the T160 was actually based on the Rocket 3 which in turn was based on the original Trident, the T150, save that the BSA had its cylinders canted forward a touch and a different chassis.
Confused? Don't worry about it. Just consider the T160 the end of the line of British pushrod engineering, with such amazingly modern items as disc brakes and electric start, not that I could get any of these newfangled components to work in a predictable fashion, but you've got to expect some hassles on a twenty year old motorcycle, haven't you? This was how the dealer explained the lack of a guarantee after I signed up. He was sure that it was a good 'un, of course - after all, it'd had one Barbour clad owner for the past ten years. Knowing such types well, it seemed equally likely to me that he had off-loaded the bike just as huge expense loomed.
But that's what lust does to you. It throws reason out of the window. Thus when I nearly broke my left hand pulling the diaphragm clutch in, it didn't dent the big grin in the least. As revs rose above three grand the engine clattered away ferociously, leaving me with the expectation of having my arms wrenched out of their sockets. The clutch bit home violently, the bike careered forward but it didn't snap up the road with very much verve until just over five grand was on the clock. Even as the revs spun rapidly towards the red, the engine gave every impression of tearing itself apart and vibes buzzed the bars and pegs.
Changing up to second was a breeze, the engine settling down to a more refined feel as the speedo broke through the motorway limit. By the time I was up to fourth, with 90mph on the clock, the engine had settled into a gentle hum and I thought, wow, this is the real thing. True it was buzzing my extremities a bit, but that's all part of the character of old British bikes, isn't it? A brief blast in top saw 120mph on the clock. There wasn't much suspension movement - it much preferred smooth roads - but the bike had an amazing precision for a twenty year old motorcycle, especially after an old dog like the CX500.
Outside my house, I looked the machine over. Oh dear, oil dripping from the crankcases and one of the exhaust collets a bit loose. The wife - someone who couldn't tell the difference between a Honda four and a Ducati twin - looked the machine over in some confusion. 'Have you had it painted, then, dear?' I concurred, not wanting to explain why I could blow five grand on an ancient motorcycle rather than spend it on various domestic necessities. She retired, muttering something about hoping I'd grow up soon! No chance.
The first week I was pretty nervous. I'd read all about the way British bikes could explode between your legs with absolutely no warning, but the Trident seemed a good 'un, as far as I could judge. A workshop manual was acquired. Some kind soul had already fitted electronic ignition so it was really just carbs and valves every 500 miles! If both aren't spot on then the acceleration turns into a series of stutters! Triples notoriously difficult to set up so that they run properly. If you ignore the stuttering the Triumph pays you back with holed pistons or burnt out exhaust valves. Pay attention to the servicing should be stamped on top of the petrol tank!
When I bought the bike, the clock read 62000 miles. This is meaningless as far as British bikes go. No knowing how many times the engine had been rebuilt, nor how well it had been done, nor even of the quality of parts employed - until they go wrong. The first two years, though, indicated that all was well within its polished cases. I had some hassles with the disc brakes due to their age, found the final chain drive didn't like to last for more than 5000 miles - the vicious clutch? - and the electrics were often on the edge of complete failure due to ancient wiring and shoddy components (all of which were eventually replaced).
In that time I did 17000 miles. After this bonding, lust turning to love, performance began to deteriorate. Its ability to slough along endlessly at the ton (until the 30mpg caught up with the tank capacity) disappeared, the bike wanting nothing more than to obey the legal limit. On the overrun, clouds of smoke poured out of the silencers. Top end rattles reverberated even at low revs in the taller gears. Something serious was going down.
A trek to the local Triumph expert revealed that it was probably the oil rings, maybe the valve's oil seals, but on the other hand it might possibly need a complete rebuild. When I revealed how often I did ton plus cruising he reckoned it was definitely the latter, giving me the kind of look normally reserved for child molesters! About three grand to do the job properly, he reckoned. Amused I was not, still having three years left on the HP.
Typical of most Brit's, it still ran okay at low revs even with some dire nastiness internally, so I went the rounds with the local dealers. Ended up with £3500 off the price of a two year old Speed Triple, which is an entirely modern motorcycle with fantastical performance and even more character than the old Trident. I reckon I was very lucky with my T160, filled with lust I could easily have bought a shiny example with an engine on its last legs (like the one I traded in - sorry, if you bought it!) but instead had two years of brilliant riding that was well worth the money I lost on the deal.
Bruce Ware