Bike India

Triumph Bobber British engineerin­g for America

- STORY: ROLAND BROWN PHOTOGRAPH­Y: ALESSIO BARBANTI, PAUL BARSHON, MATTEO CAVADINI, & FREDDIE KIRN

caught Bobber fever, The motorcycli­ng world seems to have that look like resulting in judging by the flurry of advance orders last year’s Thruxtons Triumph’s cut-down Bonneville outselling

Street Triple as the firm’s to challenge the Daytona 675 and

With its hardtail look and air most successful début model ever. seems to have caught the of vintage custom cool, the Bobber alike. But is it any good? imaginatio­n of old and young riders

ANY BIKE WOULD HAVE done well to generate much enthusiasm during the first half hour of the launch ride near Madrid. I’d been gritting my teeth on a foggy motorway, my goggles misting and the near-freezing wind whipping around my open-face helmet and jeans. Then we turned off the motorway, climbed briefly and emerged from a cloud into a dreamscape of picturesqu­e valleys and twisty, sunkissed roads where the Bobber’s single saddle was a great place to be in.

And in truth, Triumph’s factory custom (that familiar contradict­ion in terms) had been doing well even with the elements against it. Its 1,200-cc parallel-twin engine had been flexible, smooth and responsive, its chassis stable and controllab­le, its riding position and seat respectabl­y comfortabl­e, its accessory heated grips invaluable. So no surprise that when the weather and roads took a major turn for the better, the Bobber was brilliant fun.

It certainly looks the part, this latest and boldest member of the fast-growing Bonneville family. Its name comes from the stripped-down, hotted-up bobbers that American riders built for speed and lightness in the 1940s and ’50s. Some of those bikes were Triumphs, based on models including the Meriden factory’s 500-cc Speed Twin, or 650 Thunderbir­ds like the one that Marlon Brando rode in The Wild One.

The modern model on which the Bobber is based is the Bonneville T120, whose 1,200-cc, liquid-cooled engine it shares. The eight-valve unit is mechanical­ly identical but a new twinairbox intake system and doubleskin­ned exhaust boost torque by up to 10 per cent between 3,500 and 5,500 revolution­s per minute, while cutting the top-end output by a few horsepower, to 77 PS at 6,100 rpm.

Where this Bobber differs noticeably from the bikes that inspired it is by having a new chassis; not simply a trimmed and lightened one. The frame is still made from tubular steel but, instead of holding twin shocks like the T120, has a near-horizontal monoshock that is sufficient­ly well tucked away below the single saddle to give that hardtail image. At the other end, the wide, near-flat handlebar sits above a pair of gaitered, non-adjustable forks.

That aluminium single seat does most to give the Bobber its unique look, backed up by some typically neat details. The instrument panel is a large, round analogue speedo with digital insert, and can be pivoted to fine-tune the view. There’s a battery box with stainless steel strap below the shapely fuel-tank which holds just 9.1 litres. The rear brake’s master cylinder sits below a neat screw-in cap in the brushed aluminium sprocket cover.

Triumph have done a great job with the finish — from the classy paint (in four colour options) to the touches of bronze in tank badges, injectors, and engine covers. Even on a dull Madrid morning the Bobber looked inviting as I threw a leg over its low seat, flicked up the slightly awkward side-stand from below the left foot-rest, and turned on the ignition with the key down by my right knee. The bike fired up with a pleasant thump from its slash-cut silencers, and pulled away effortless­ly when I let out the light-action clutch.

Triumph’s SOHC engine is pleasantly torquey in T120 spec and felt deliciousl­y strong in the Bobber, which pulled from as little as 2,000 rpm in the lower gears. The bike rumbled forward obediently whenever the throttle was wound open, changing through its six-speed gearbox and staying smooth even towards its rev-limiter at about 7,000 rpm, though the sweet spot was around the 4,000rpm zone where the maximum torque figure of 106 Nm is delivered.

There’s a softer Rain mode but throttle response is so good that you’d rarely if ever need it, especially as the Bobber follows the T120 by having traction control built in. With that gentle nature and the upright riding position the bike was pleasant to potter around on, and there’s enough torque for some straightli­ne entertainm­ent as well. On a couple of short straights the Triumph accelerate­d pretty quickly to an indicated 175 km/h before I had to slow, though there wasn’t much left at the point.

If the performanc­e of the T120based engine was predictabl­e, that of the unique chassis was much less so. Making the Bobber handle well was always likely to be difficult, given that it looks like an ancient hardtail, and combines a fairly slim, 19-inch front tyre with a wider 150-section, 16-inch rear one. It’s not especially light at 228 kg dry (four kilos heavier than the T120), and has a long, 1,510-millimetre wheelbase (up by 65 mm).

Comfort also looked likely to be in short supply, given that the shapely single saddle is as thinly padded as it’s low. And although the Bobber has suspension at both ends, it doesn’t have much travel: 90 mm front and 77 mm rear, compared to the T120’s 120 mm at each end. If ever a modern Triumph looked designed for short trips and straight lines, it’s this one.

Which is why it was such a pleasant surprise to discover that the Bobber not only handled remarkably well, it also exceeded comfort expectatio­ns by a wide margin. Part of the reason is that despite the custom look its steering geometry is convention­al, with forks held at a 25.8-degree angle that is almost identical to the T120’s. The KYB (formerly Kayaba) units at each end are stiffer, too, so the Bobber feels nicely taut as well as fairly quick-steering.

But well-chosen damping rates meant the Triumph didn’t feel harsh on the Madrid streets. There its wide bars, low centre of gravity and generous steering lock helped it cut through the traffic

with an effortless­ly well-balanced feel. The only aspect of the chassis that disappoint­ed was the front brake, which relies on a single 310-mm disc and twin pot Nissin calliper, where the T120 has two identical items.

There was an acceptable amount of stopping power when I squeezed hard, but more bite from the front would have been nice, and useful in an emergency. Shame the built-in (and worthwhile, though hard to trigger) ABS system means that a second disc can’t easily be added, as it could to the Bonneville in the 1970s. At least the Bobber slowed fairly hard with assistance from its rear disc, which I found myself using more than normal.

On the fog-shrouded motorway heading out of Madrid the Triumph was very stable and as tolerable as any naked bike. The seat gave plenty of legroom and distribute­d my body weight well when in its furthest forward position; it can also be slid backwards (after loosening a few bolts) for a more laid-back look. Foot-rests are sufficient­ly rear-set to take some weight from your bum. Those heated grips were immediatel­y welcome, though I didn’t need the cruise control that is another option.

Thankfully, the sun burst through the clouds almost immediatel­y after we’d turned off on to a series of twisty, mostly well-surfaced mountain roads where the Bobber was far more at home than I’d have imagined. Its steering was as accurate as it had been in the city, its suspension retained its taut and wellcontro­lled feel, and the Triumph was enjoyably easy to chuck around at an entertaini­ng pace.

In grippier turns it was important to take care with line and lean angle, because the foot-rests scraped before the capable Avon Cobra tyres approached the limits of their grip. But ground clearance was fine for a bike like this, and the Bobber’s agile handling helped make it into a very passable all-round roadster, at least for those who don’t need to carry a passenger or much luggage. The bike is not designed for a pillion pad, and the accessory leather panniers look cool but not particular­ly large.

Inevitably, that shapely but tiny tank has its limitation­s, too. My average of 6.0 litres/100 km (16.7 km/l) — displayed on the digital panel that can also show revs and more by pressing the “i” button on the left bar — brought realistic range to well below 150 km. That’s far short of the T120, whose 14.5-litre tank would allow half as much distance again. Triumph claim 4.1 litres/100 km (24.4 km/l) and a range of 222 km for the Bobber, which would require riding cautiously and reaching the service station on fumes.

But the Bobber doesn’t pretend to be especially practical. It promises to be stylish and fun, and delivers in both respects, working far better than such a radical looking machine has a right to. It’s slightly more expensive than the T120, not to mention several rival firms’ bobbers, but those who’ve put down deposits will not be disappoint­ed. As good as the Bonneville Bobber is to look at, it’s even better to ride.

 ??  ?? The key to happiness isn’t always where you expect it to be
Bobber makes do with a 9.1-litre tank capacity
Seemingly simplistic pod provides much informatio­n
No-nonsense rear looks the part; oh, traction control is standard kit
The key to happiness isn’t always where you expect it to be Bobber makes do with a 9.1-litre tank capacity Seemingly simplistic pod provides much informatio­n No-nonsense rear looks the part; oh, traction control is standard kit
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 ??  ?? Pleasantly torquey motor feels strong in the Bobber
Aluminium seat is a unique detail on the Bobber
Pleasantly torquey motor feels strong in the Bobber Aluminium seat is a unique detail on the Bobber

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