TRIUMPH T150 TRIDENT
Every restoration of an old British bike has to be an extended tale of woe, angst and endurance, right? Wrong. Ken Atkinson bought the bike he’d always wanted, rebuilt it PDQ, and revels in riding the result
Every restoration of an old British bike has to be an extended tale of woe, angst and endurance, right? Wrong. Ken Atkinson bought the bike he’d always wanted, rebuilt it PDQ, and revels in riding the result
Once again, I’d travelled across the country, supposedly to look at an immaculate barn find. Once again I was disappointed when it turned out to be anything but. It has always amazed me what some people think classifies as ‘top money immaculate.’ I am really unsure whether they don’t know or simply hope that the prospective purchaser doesn’t know. Similarly, just how many barns are out there containing long-forgotten motorcycles? It appears to have become the norm to declare any rusty old relic as a barnfind, as if this immediately gives the bike some sort of credibility.
Either way, enough was enough. It was time to have a rethink. My original idea that it would probably be cheaper to buy somebody else’s completed restoration than do one myself was now replaced by the notion that I could do better myself. Clearly, it was now time to do my own thing. Deciding that this was the way forward, I had to choose a bike that would best suit my needs. I had a couple of bikes in mind and these ranged from a B31/B33 to a Norton SS – but I also had a forty-year-old passion for a Triumph Trident T150, a bike I’d lusted after as a twentysomething young lad but never managed to afford. By the time I could afford one, I was well and truly hooked by the land of the rising sun.
A quick perusal of that well-known auction website identified a possibility and I was looking forward to viewing a 1972 T150V that the owner had candidly described as ‘oily rag’. To be fair, that was exactly what it turned out to be: a very tired-looking oily rag. On the positive side, it was complete, had conical hubs, a valid MoT, started on the third kick and the engine sounded fit. It also had matching engine and frame numbers and these were prefixed with the letters H and G which confirmed a manufactured date of July 1972. It had less than 15,000 miles on the clock and this was supported by a pile of MoT certificates going all the way back to 1990. As with most bikes of that age, it was exported to California (Hollywood no less) and repatriated to the UK in 1990, having had three other owners since then.
It appeared to be perfect for what I wanted and I could feel my wallet twitching. Trying not to sound too enthusiastic, I asked if ‘this handful of cash would buy it now’ which provoked a sharp intake of breath and it was quickly but politely refused.
After arriving home, I quickly checked the bike’s HPI status which showed it to be a good honest machine. I placed a bid to the value of my initial offer and sat back waiting for the auction to end. Everyone tells me I should wait until the last minute, but I am the type of guy who puts on a bid of what I am prepared to pay and waits to see what happens. In this case, it was a good result. Not only was my bid the highest, but I had bought the machine for £500 less than my ‘buy it now’ offer! Don’t you just love it when that happens? Two days later the bike was in its new garage.
Historically speaking, the Trident was Triumph’s last gasp at a fight back against the Japanese big multi-cylinder machines and was aimed predominantly at the American market. Honda’s 750 four was released only a couple of weeks after the Trident. Designed by Doug Hele and Bert Hopwood, the threecylinder machines were sold between 1968 and 1975 when it morphed in to the T160. The Trident was first released as the fourspeed T150 followed four years later by the five-speed T150V and a single front disc brake was added in 1973.
Although an excellent motorcycle, the early Ogle styling caused quite a bit of controversy with its slab-sided ‘bread bin’ tank and futuristic ray gun silencers. Eventually, in response to poor sales, the bike was updated by what was known as the ‘beauty kit’ consisting primarily of a Bonneville type tank and different exhausts. Mine is one of these machines.
The initial plan was to carry out the restoration over a two year period with an aim of finishing with one of the best Tridents out there. To get an idea of the engine and gearbox condition, I decided to put it on the road for a few days. So following an oils and filter change, and not having ridden a motorcycle for a few years, I cautiously set off down the road, desperately trying not to change gear with my foot brake. The result was a couple of oil leaks from both pushrod tubes, a drip from the primary chaincase and a rather large leak from a small tell-tale hole below the clutch housing, and an annoying tappet rattle. Other than that the bike was in great fettle and the smile on my face was enormous.
Sadly, or perhaps I should say happily, those ‘couple of days’ turned into all summer long. I loved it. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed riding a motorcycle since selling my Yamaha R6 a few years earlier, and the bike was finally taken off the road in late October.
I was surprised how quickly you can go from a working motorcycle to a big pile of bits in the corner. Clearly my Trident was less than the sum of all of the parts. I took a lot of photographs as the bike disappeared and these really turned out to be useful during the rebuild, particularly for things such wiring and oil feed pipework routes, and even ‘did this bracket go this way or that way?’ So my number one tip is: photos.
Following the deconstruction, the first job was to have the frame and all of the black bits (38 of them) sand-blasted and powdercoated. Easy said, but in reality much more involved, with making sure threads were covered and that absolutely no oil or grease remained in any of the nooks and crannies. Powder coating is only microns thick and will
not fill any blemishes, so if you have any to clean up, it is out with the wet and dry.
With the frame away, I began to strip and clean each component in readiness for either overhaul or replacement. I had a big concern that it would be difficult to get spares for a fortyodd year-old bike and initially expected it to be a long process. However I discovered LP Williams, whose stock of Triumph parts can only be described as vast – there was only one item they couldn’t supply. This, combined with the firm’s helpful and enthusiastic staff, meant that most parts I ordered appeared the next day. Many thanks go to Phil and the LP Williams team. On the subject of spares, my second top tip would be to buy a parts catalogue. The exploded diagrams were (and still are) invaluable.
A list of all the new parts fitted would be somewhat boring, but to give you a flavour it included wheel bearings, brake shoes, every cable, everything chrome with exception of the rear mudguard – which I could not get – every rubber bush and washer, wiring harness, lamps, indicators, speedo drive, complete exhaust system (from Armours; also very helpful), rear shocks, and every single nut and bolt was replaced with UNC stainless, the list goes on and on. It would perhaps be easier to tell you what I did not do and why.
I attended a couple of country shows that had a display of classic bikes and became very aware that there appeared to be two types of classic bike. The first were absolutely pristine machines that were clearly in a far better condition than when they left the factory, and those that were not. It was also obvious that the pristine models were exactly that – static models, not used, and in the main transported to the shows in the backs of vans or on trailers. The other type of bike had owners who were equally proud of their machines, but rode them regularly and enjoyed classic ownership to the full. Now I would never criticise the former, and certainly admire and perhaps even envy their superb machines a little. However I realised that I would much rather have a bike that I could use every day and have a lot of fun with, and hopefully it would still be good enough to display at an occasional show.
So what didn’t I do? I had intended to have the wheels rebuilt with alloy rims and have the conical hubs vapour blasted, but as the rebuild progressed, it became necessary to have some method of moving the bike without scratching the frame, and so came my first compromise of the restoration. The
existing wheels were in perfect condition and to be perfectly honest, the change to alloy rims was a bit of an extravagance. I reasoned that if I fitted a new pair of tyres I could refit them to the frame and my manhandling issues would vanish, and I’d still have very nice wheels. After all, it would be a simple task to fit the rims later.
Compromise number two arose from my over-estimate of how long the rebuild would take. You will recall that I had expected a painful search for spares, but in reality this was simply a case of picking up the phone. This also meant that there was no need to get parts re-chromed either. So the rebuild progressed much quicker than anticipated and, before I knew it, I realised that I needed to sort out the paintwork. I had already identified a paint specialist, but he was clearly a very busy man and apologetically quoted me approximately twelve weeks to paint the tank and two side panels.
This was in the Spring and I was thinking about putting the bike on the road for the summer. A three months’ delay was not what I wanted hear. I decided that I would paint it myself: how hard could it be? If the worst came to the worst, I could always go back to him – or if it worked out, I could run the bike and get the professional paint job next October or November.
This sounded convincingly like a plan to me, and so the tank and side panels were painted red. Although I thought the results were rather good, I must confess I wish I had waited – or more sensibly I wished I had sent them for painting earlier in the project. Top tip number three: make sure you understand your critical path items and get your timings right. Once again, I reasoned that I could have them repainted when the wheels were rebuilt.
So just eight months after my two-year restoration began, the bike was back on the road and looking very good. The outstanding
items on my restoration would have to wait. Over the following months, the bike was displayed at a couple of shows and I was very pleased with the comments and the attention it received.
The Trident is an absolute pleasure to ride and it is sometimes difficult to remember that it is almost 45 years old. Riding at 70mph is effortless, other than the wind buffeting, and vibration is almost non-existent. The exhaust noise is wonderful and the engine has get up and go by the bucketful, although two-up can be a bit of a challenge if you get in the wrong gear. At 4500rpm the bike leaps forward and things get busy and the smile gets bigger. You do however need to keep reminding yourself that it only has a 2ls front brake which, although effective, clearly tells its age. Road-holding is very good and gives lots of confidence, perfect for the local B-roads. I can certainly recommend a set of Avon Roadriders.
Starting is easy but it needs to be tickled, particularly when cold. There are a couple of negatives, though. First and foremost the front suspension is very harsh when riding on anything other than a billiard table. I have tried a changing the grade of fork oil but with little improvement. The second annoying issue is its reluctance to tick over when cold. I have fitted new needles and jets and cleaned out the fixed air jet a number of times but it still stalls unless really hot. Clearly a couple of things to add to my winter to-do list.
I have heard it said that there is no such thing as an oil-tight Triumph. Nonsense: mine is. The oil leak from the tell-tale under the clutch was found to be either the spider nose oil seal or the clutch pullrod oil seal, and both were replaced. The primary chaincase leak was actually from the inner casing with the oil running along one of the casing bolts. The weep from the two pushrod tubes was cured by fitting a set of X ring seals – an upgrade that I can highly recommend. I combined this repair with a top end removal to check valve condition and ensured there was no evidence of valve pocketing. Remember the annoying tappet rattle? It’s still there…
My only regret was the paint job. Although it looked fine I just had to change it – one compromise too far I guess – and a couple of weeks later, the bike reappeared with a beautiful professionally done paint job. I’m sure it will upset the purists out there but I am very pleased with. The purple and black colour scheme is correct for the year but the tank design is more in the style of the modern Triumphs.
I am absolutely delighted with my everyday classic, ride it regularly and thoroughly enjoy it, and I am not afraid to get it wet. It probably would not win any concours prizes but, having made the decision to have a bike I would use and enjoy, I don’t really care. I am also very aware that I was lucky that classic Triumphs have such an extensive parts network and my restoration efforts amounted, almost entirely, to buying and fitting new bits. The only item I was unable to source was a pair of original Bumm mirrors – if anyone has a new set then let me know your price.
My advice to anyone contemplating restoring a classic would be to build what you really want to build and enjoy your bike. Remember: Edward Turner wanted his bikes to be used and stated that we, the British buying public, enjoy spending our weekends tinkering with them. Those oil-tight, troublefree and reliable Japanese machines will never catch on. God bless him.
The cost of the rebuild? I have never bothered to add it all up and, as the bike is a keeper, it doesn’t really matter. But as my T-shirt says: ‘My biggest fear is that when I die, my wife will sell my bike for what I told her it cost…’