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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
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My 1973 Hurricane is pretty much as it came out of the factory. The Craig Vetter inspired styling has stood the test of time well; so well that it's not really on to change any of the cosmetic components, as it would ruin the whole look. With the clock reading 39000 miles, in the six years I've owned the beast, mileage has largely been pleasurable, though mostly only done on reasonable summer days.
Despite the name on the petrol tank, it's really a BSA Rocket 3 under the skin, instantly recognizable from the way the top end of the motor is canted forward. The most obvious addition is the combined seat/tank unit, a masterstroke of the stylist's pen whose only fault is the mere two gallon's worth of petrol it holds. Longer front forks combined with a slightly modified Rocket 3 frame complete the package.
High bars, high gearing and a surprising willingness of the 740cc OHV triple to rev make the Hurricane a far different motorcycling experience to the average British hack. This is a fun bike to thrash through country lanes. Weighing 450lbs meant that the bars provided more than enough leverage for hurling the twenty year old machine through bends, keeping up even in the company of some quite hot modern middleweights.
The motor revs with ease to the 8000rpm red line, developing 58 horses at 7300rpm, at its best between 3500 and 7000rpm. Beyond 6500rpm vibes breeze in and only those with a wrecker's instinct will tolerate 9000 revs for more than an instant. What must be one of the most beautiful sounding and looking exhausts in the world really reverberates out of its three silencers when the power is wound on. Music to my ears.
Despite an oil cooler, hard charging for a couple of hours makes the engine run incredibly hot, a sudden rainstorm, for instance, causing great clouds of steam as the water hits the engine whilst stationary at a junction. Hitting town after a hard afternoon's riding turns the clutch, a single plate diaphragm job, decidedly temperamental. Which, in turn makes the five speed gearbox, which normally has a pleasantly precise feel, become as awkward as a screaming baby deprived of its mother's attention. Finding neutral's almost impossible and missed changes become the norm.
That all gets much worse if the oil isn't changed every 750 miles, sometimes less as it seems to live a hard life - I'm sure I can hear it frothing away as it overheats. That seems a good enough point at which to set all six valves, balance the three Amal carbs and set the points, the latter being especially tedious as there are three sets. I usually do a spark plug change as well as they don't last long and the last thing I want to do is nurse home a reluctant Hurricane that thinks it's fun to imitate a twin or even a single.
Feted thus, the Triumph usually provides on the road reliability, with none of the old British habits of destroying or shedding components. I'm more than happy to put in the maintenance effort so that I can enjoy the fun aspect. The Hurricane usually keeps up with rival bikes all the way up to its 120mph top speed, although to be truthful the riding position limits cruising speed to no more than 75mph.
Comfort is another doubtful area, the thin seat padding compressing out after a couple of hours. 200 miles in a day is more than enough, the vibes also start becoming intrusive and a couple of times I ended up with dead feet and tingling fingers. With a safe range of less than 70 miles, breaks for fuel refills were frequent, even though fuel hovered around a not unreasonable 45mpg. Triumph triples need the fuel feed from having both the main and reserve taps fully open, if they are to avoid getting so hot the valves melt, so there's no back-up.
The weakest parts of the engine are the chain primary drive, clutch and valvegear. The amount of effort put in on maintenance determines engine life, mine's still on most of its original components with the exception of a new primary chain at 22000 miles. The top end has become rather rattly and the motor no longer fires into life first kick (it takes three or four) after tickling the carbs. That may just be worn Amals or the engine in need of a rebore - oil consumption now runs to about a pint every 125 miles.
The chassis hasn't been quite so easy to solve. The most chronic hassle has been the conical TLS front drum, which if it looked very neat was as unpredictable as the clutch. Part of that was down to the need for 250 mile adjustments to keep the shoes working together rather than fighting each other; neglecting that meant it was time to wrench wrist muscles to avoid denting the Borrani alloy wheel rim. Fade was, even when they were set up properly, usually an issue after a couple of desperate stops.
Another annoyance is varying quality in brake shoes, I once had to chuck a set after just 200 miles because they turned the front end jerky, vile and vicious. The brakes work okay in the wet despite the huge air scoop on the front drum. The manoeuvrability of the bike helps out the dodgy brakes but sometimes I can only look wistfully at the double discs on friend's bikes. The shoes last about 12500 front and 16000 miles rear.
The big 19 inch front wheel, shod with Avon's finest, gives a nice feeling of security and I've yet to experience any of the sudden slides that many Jap bikes, with much smaller wheels, seem to suffer - not that I do much wet weather riding, I'm too concerned with keeping the chrome up to its natural shine.
On that score the neatly polished alloy bottom yoke developed a couple of hairline cracks that I only noticed when buffeting them up with some Solvol. It proved impossible to buy a replacement and I ended up having a new one machined from solid alloy. Shortly after that the U-shaped headlamp bracket fractured, the huge headlamp turning into a high speed missile when it richochetted off an oncoming car. I took the opportunity to upgrade the headlamp to something more useful for illuminating unlit country roads.
The electrics were another marginal area, with the 140W alternator hard pressed to keep the battery fully charged with the uprated headlamp. This may have had something to do with the way the batteries started losing their ability to hold a charge after a mere three months. A period of time that could easily have the Zener Diode melting down. As well as handle bar switches that fell apart, wiring connectors yielded to either age or vibration and the rear light spent as much time blown as it did illuminating the back end. The more minor of these problems were solved by rewiring and better (usually, I have to admit, Japanese) components; the more serious tolerated as they were at least predictable.
Less sustainable was trying to run the engine on unleaded fuel. The motor sounded rough, wouldn't rev out in the gears and was turning in about 30mpg. The engine had always demanded four star, under certain atmospheric conditions even five star. The latest unleaded petrol is tolerable but fuel is only 40mpg, so I usually stick with four star.
The time the oil tank cracked wasn't very amusing, but the slithering back wheel caused me to pull over before the engine ran out of lubricant. A two mile push home, followed half the way by a jam sandwich to ensure I kept my helmet on (thus defining the meaning of bloody-minded), didn't exactly turn me lyrical.
The other failure of note was the back wheel bearings, after I took a twenty stone mate on the pillion (made the normally stiff springs go ever so soft). The wobble that preceded the rumbling noises convinced me that I was about to die, as did the need to use a couple of lanes to survive probably bring similar thoughts to the panic stricken minds of cagers coming towards me. Riding home, much shaken, at 20mph for four miles was even more frightening as it was along the A1 for most of the way. Most bits have been cheap and the bike is generally very easy to work on.
The Hurricane's as neat a looking bike as any on the road, is bags of fun to ride short distances and can even be pushed into use as a mild tourer. It fits my motorcycling needs perfectly and has even appreciated in a value by about a thousand pounds. They are so rare, all I can say is snap one up if you get the opportunity.
K.M.
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A '74 Triumph Trident, a bit worn around the edges, 82000 miles on the clock but a recently rebuilt motor that didn't leak oil. £2000. Not a bad price, the new triples having knocked them down by about fifty percent. 500lbs worth of British meat, with a lot of history behind it and a lovely whine out of the silencers (pinched from a Rocket Three).
The test ride was on the pillion, no chance of getting to grips with the controls until I'd handed over the dosh. I did the deal right there and then, full of enthusiasm because the big triple had been one of the dreams of my youth. That was two years ago and it hasn't turned into a nightmare yet, even if there were some problems along the way.
The gearchange was the first hassle. This one had five gears but the lever was on the right, with a one up and four down action. Gawd, that was confusing for the first few thousand miles. Hopping back wheels, screaming metal as I changed down instead of up and slammed the brake on instead of changing gear. Oh well, we all have to learn to live the righteous way. The gearchange action was actually better than most Japs of this age, smooth and precise if a bit heavy going in trainers.
The clutch was where I'd expect to find it but was it heavy? It was a car type single plate diaphragm with cable operation that initially needed two hands to wield. A nylon lined clutch cable improved matters considerably and by the time I'd become used to the gearbox the clutch pressure no longer bothered me. It was just a pity I couldn't shake hands with my left hand as it'd become a real knuckle crusher.
Then there was the kickstart. The three cylinder OHV motor had a 9.5:1 compression ratio and worn out contact breaker ignition. The result was about ten kicks from cold and half that number from hot. New points and spark plugs were fitted but only made a marginal improvement. No, the thing demanded new coils and HT leads. Then starting was a three kick affair from cold. But they were the hefty kind of kicks that left me sweating if I was all togged up in my winter weather gear.
The Trident doesn't look very integrated, more as if the parts bin was raided for suitable bits but this is a very misleading impression. The chassis has a very heavy feel but also a very stable one and never seems stressed by the power, which flows in from tickover to 8000 revs. The engine clicks and whirrs at tickover, under throttle the gears whine and the valvegear grinds away but above all that there's the glorious howl out of the three into two exhaust. Some might find it loud but I find it hard to believe that anyone could object to its eerie note.
The riding position is very upright, easy going for town work and up to above 75mph. Along with the friendly motor I was soon hustling the bike like it was an old friend, finding the handling very forgiving despite its heavy feel. Alas, on the first long run the bike ground to a halt after a mere 75 miles. Having heard tales of Tridents burning out pistons and even breaking crankshafts, I feared the worst as I pulled over to the hard shoulder.
The total lack of any electrics allayed my paranoia. The main fuse had melted due to a wire coming loose and shorting out. I put it back in its connector and removed the fuse-holder from the circuit until I could buy a spare fuse (or ten) from the first services.
A powerful (car) front headlamp made the 120W alternator a bit marginal; I found it a good idea to give the battery a top up charge every week. Separate earth leads to all the lights had already been fitted, leaving me to replace or eliminate all the toy-town connectors. Even so, blowing bulbs were a chronic problem when using the engine above 6000 revs.
Vibration from the triple was always apparent but not too annoying unless it was thrashed into the red. Having owned a couple of rat Superdreams in the past I could not really complain. Actually, the level of vibration would increase when either the valves (every 750 miles) or bank of 27mm Amal carbs (every 500 miles) went out of adjustment, or when any internal components were worn out beyond a certain point. I can now tell whether or not a Trident motor is in a good state just by riding the bike around the block.
I was to find this out the hard way when the T150 was used harshly and fast for continuous motorway cruising. There is a small oil cooler located under the petrol tank, but the plunger pump was having difficulty circulating lubricant around the engine. When the oil starts to froth in the tank the lubrication system breaks down completely.
The first time this happened the centre piston seized then freed, evidenced by grinding vibes and about half the power disappearing. I sat on the hard shoulder for an hour, letting the motor cool down. I burbled home at 25mph on a reluctant twin. I assumed it was just old age, had a rebore and fitted new pistons to all three cylinders. The valves were a little pitted, so were reground.
I didn't think to check the oil pump at that point. The second failure was in similar circumstances but this time one of the exhaust valves burnt out. By the time I rode home another one went as well, and the engine sounded like the rings had broken up. Not surprising, as that was exactly what had happened. The cylinder couldn't be rebored any more so a used one had to be procured.
It says a lot for the toughness of the crankshaft that it survived unscathed. A new oil pump was fitted as well as a triplex primary chain and a new clutch plate. Fortunately, for the bike, it'd run fine for six months, enough time for me to come to enjoy the experience immensely.
The front disc was rather rudimentary by modern standards but I found it quite reasonable, the tough, taut forks well up to the braking forces. The rear drum was a useful back-up but not too hot in the wet when it'd send the back wheel into a big slide. The shoes never seemed to wear, unlike the disc pads which barely lasted for 8000 miles.
The Avon tyres were good at over 12000 miles, although I've had cheap final drive chains wrecked in less than 5000 miles (the sprockets don't seem to wear, just as well with the gearbox sprocket awkwardly tucked behind the primary chaincases). Fuel was very poor at 35 to 40mpg even when ridden mildly and oil consumption heavy at 150mpp, although both tanks were large.
These figures were rather high considering it took a lot of effort to ride the Triumph fast, due to the lounge lizard riding position. But as a lot of my riding was in town I wasn't going to change it. Comfort was good for town work and tolerable for an hour at a time at, say, 90mph after my shoulder muscles had developed a little brawn. Top speed was 130mph on the clock, stability was good but the vibes became irritating.
General riding, with the motor sorted, was a bundle of fun, the bike full of character as well as lots of usable power. It's gone around the clock now and seems to have lots of life left. Yes, I'm happy with my British bike!
Eric Creem