Triumph has carried the banner of British motorcycling since 1902. Despite at least two near-death financial traumas and a more recent disastrous factory fire, they are alive, well and producing an interesting range of machines. John Wheeler tests the Triumph Speed Triple.
Some models, such as the Bonneville, are evocative of the glory days of British bikes; others, the Tiger, Trophy 900 and Sprint ST are regarded as the equal of anything Japanese manufacturers can produce.
The Triumph Speed Triple is an unusual machine. It is of the sub-species of "CaféRacer" or "Streetfighter", and has the sort of intoxicating, outrageous performance that tempts one to do very naughty things. It is brimming with attitude and aggression. But it is ugly, uncomfortable and impractical.
It has a stout twin-spar tubular frame. Within it lies the 955 cc fuel-injected triple cylinder engine with a lively 112 bhp power output. It has an excellent six-speed gearbox. Rear suspension is a single sided, monoshock swinging arm with a somewhat small disk brake. At the front, stout telescopic forks with massive, powerful twin disk brakes.
There is nothing wrong with the parts, it is when one gets to the sum of the parts that things seem to have gone awry. The rear end of the bike is a true, contemporary thoroughbred sports bike, the front-end a mix of "Streetfigher" with sports forks and retro-looking handlebars. Seen on the showroom floor it looks as if it is waiting for the fairing to arrive.
The mirrors are wonderful for scrutiny of one's elbows, and virtually useless for giving any indication of what is behind. The only time you get an idea of following traffic is on a bend when you get a momentary view.
There is no centre stand: that makes chain maintenance and adjustment a needless chore. There is nowhere to hook on bungees if you want to carry any luggage. Taken overall, it is as if the apprentices in central casting tried to design a panto horse during a tea-break.
For a manufacturer that has managed to produce seriously good looking machines right across the range, this is an aberration.
All of which could, perhaps, be forgiven by some if the end result was good . . .
In strictly performance terms it rates high. In the realm of any semblance of comfort it fails utterly. The thin apology for a seat has one thinking in terms of Panadol long before the first hour is over. The "pillion" seat is laughable, more by way of a padded cover for a tool box, and nothing save an unsubstantial leather strap for your intrepid passenger to hang onto. The cable-operated clutch is unduly heavy, and the foot change lever, defying proven practice, is a critical inch shorter than it should be. At night a large, glowing red "955I" logo in the centre of the rev-counter is an unnecessary distraction.
On a good road surface the combination of a willing, powerful engine, well-matched gear ratios, nimble, fast steering and powerful brakes do make for an exhilarating ride. Consigned to a well-surfaced track and left there, it would be exhilarating and enjoyable. Come the changes and chances of typical Irish roads, and the machine tells you it is not at all happy.
If you are looking for searing performance and nothing else, this bike has it. If you want to commute more than a few miles you would find this machine hard work. If touring is your scene, forget it, you would be stopping so often to recover that the guy on a 125 cc cruiser would now be well ahead. If the autoroutes of Europe beckon, the poor ergonomics, coupled with the lack of any fairing would make for a tiring, painful ride.
Notwithstanding the fact that a Triumph was one of the best, most reliable and enjoyable machines I ever owned, I can think of no valid reason either for Triumph producing, nor for anyone buying, this particular machine.
Admittedly, there is a small minority of motorcyclists for whom this weird mixture of attributes has a certain appeal.
For everyone else, take anything else in the current Triumph model range where, thankfully, there is a wide choice of sane, enjoyable machines.