TRIUMPH BONNEVILLE T100......................
Marion Thirsk bought a Hinckley Bonnie to use as a sidecar tug, but liked it so much that it stayed a solo and became her regular ride. How has it coped with 80 miles a day in the Scottish climate?
Marion Thirsk bought a Hinckley Bonnie to use as a sidecar tug, but liked it so much that it stayed a solo and became her regular ride. How has it coped with 80 miles a day in the Scottish climate?
When John Bloor launched his Triumph dynasty in 1991 I was delighted, hoping one day there would be a new Triumph to suit me. I’ve never lusted after a sports bike but occasionally borrow my husband Alan’s nice naked Trident to play on when I want to be a hooligan. At 5’6” I find it pretty hefty and slightly too much of an arm stretch for me to use happily on a daily basis. It is, however, ridiculously good fun, a completely grin-inducing musclebike which offers serious potential to lose my licence very, very quickly.
A friend of ours dropped his Trident every time he stopped on an uneven surface or bad camber, so Alan very kindly reversed the cam on our Trident’s swinging arm to lower the rear end. This enabled me to get my feet flat on the ground but made the centrestand harder to use.
The even heavier Thunderbird 900 triple arrived with a detuned version of the Trident’s powerplant, whose tall triple engine still reminded me of Kawasaki’s GPZ900. A bit too modern for my taste so I waited to see if Triumph would release a lighter, lower Bonneville twin.
The first Hinckley Bonnevilles launched in 2000 but they were 790cc and, as Alan’s Trident was 885cc, I didn’t want anything much smaller. A few years later the Speed Triple came out in gloriously flamboyant and blatantly unignorable Nuclear Red. At least, that’s what Triumph called it. For the rest of us, whatever way you looked at it, it was undeniably, screaming, in your face… pink.
It was such a ridiculous colour that it got me thinking. A shocking pink bike would surely be easy to spot from a distance when I forgotten where I’d parked it. No longer would older gents come over all misty eyed saying ‘I used to have one just like that….’, plus the colour would surely deter potential thieves. My height ruled out confident low speed manoeuvers on a Speed Triple, but Triumph already had the paint so they might be accommodating. I trotted off optimistically to our friendly local Triumph dealership, who immediately quashed any notion I had of asking Triumph very nicely for a pink Bonneville.
By 2010 and with three children, Alan and I only ever got out on our bikes individually. We resorted to a combination of seven wheels (sidecar and car) for rallies and holidays. I was inevitably stuck with the car, while Alan got to play on his Constellation with child/adult sidecar attached. He proved remarkably resistant to my requests to similarly burden his BSA A65, unless it meant his Connie could finally return to use, as God and Royal Enfield obviously intended, as a solo machine.
I wasn’t hitching anything to my Honda CB400/4. Definitely only to be enjoyed solo, the Haynes manual agreed it was not a suitable sidecar tug, although ‘there is always someone who achieves the impossible’. It wasn’t going to be me. As far as I was concerned Alan’s A65 was still the obvious choice as another chair-puller, but I reluctantly agreed to look at the possibility of a secondhand Hinckley Triumph or a Kawasaki W650 and double-adult chair.
Searching online yielded some nice Trident and Trophy outfits. These either sported single-seater chairs, which didn’t meet our needs, or pristine, double-chaired outfits which were scarily priced. The Bonneville and Bonneville SE of the time were ruled out. Although they had cast wheels which would have fitted in better with my extremely reluctant cleaning regime, sidecar tyres weren’t readily available in 17” sizes. The T100’s 19” front wheel looked more favourable, so I was delighted to spot a rather nice, solo, blue and white Bonneville with red pin-striping. It had polished alloy engine casings which I knew could be prone to furring when the lacquer chips and water gets in underneath, but it looked absolutely perfect. Even better, the dealers were only 70 miles away, rather than hundreds of miles further south, so I arranged a test ride.
Rather conveniently two W650s were also on offer. A quick sit on all three confirmed that the Bonnie was the only contender. I’d fallen totally in love as soon as I spotted it online and in the flesh it was absolutely gorgeous. It might have a modern engine, but with spoked wheels and peashooter exhausts it just looked right and I was convinced I’d be taking it home after the test ride.
Sadly it wasn’t to be. With size six feet, I had my right foot vertical with no response from the back brake. The gear change was totally in the wrong position so I had problems changing gear. Triumph had upgraded the Bonnie to fuel injection but this was an earlier carb model and didn’t pull cleanly at all. All these things could have been rectified but the dealer wasn’t particularly interested or helpful. I headed home dejected and ready to give up, but Alan coaxed me into booking a test ride on a T100 at our local Triumph dealer.
A few days later, off I went on a brand new, fuel injected 865cc T100. What a
difference. No problems with the brake or gear change and it was responsive, pulling eagerly. The T100 was still air-cooled with the fuel injection hidden within throttle bodies designed to look like carbs. The crankcase breather looks like a pushrod tube so the styling looked good. I was happy it had a rev counter, unlike the standard Bonnie, but didn’t like the digital mileage display or the way the needles manically swung over to hit the stops and back during the pre-ignition checks.
An hour later I arrived back with a big stupid grin; guilt and panic setting in as I realised I actually really, really wanted one but couldn’t afford a brand new bike, plus sidecar and fittings. Resigned to walking away yet again, I headed back for one last look. Rounding the corner of the shop I was surprised to see another, almost identical Bonnie parked behind the demonstrator. I asked the shop about it. The owner had passed away and they were selling it for his wife. This 21 month-old Bonnie had less than 500 miles on it and although it was green, a colour I really don’t like, it made much more sense than buying a brand new bike.
Mulling things over, I decided I’d be too busy looking at the road to bother about the paintjob. It also had the earlier, nondigital clocks, chromed engine cases and the previous owner had sensibly fitted a centrestand. This would save me a bit of cash, although, with plans to fit a sidecar, it would soon be surplus to requirement… I bought the Bonnie the next day.
My 80 mile daily commute started high in the Scottish border hills so a set of heated grips made sense. These were fitted and the bike serviced before I picked it up. The journey home kept a broad grin on my face, as did each subsequent ride. I noticed that the tacho numbers vibrate inside the clock, perhaps that was why a digital display was introduced?
I warned Alan not to give me too much time to enjoy the Bonnie solo in case I fell in love with it. We already had a chassis so bought a double-adult chair and Alan ordered up a fitting kit for it. Within a month he was ready to fit the sidecar – and I point blank refused. I was really enjoying playing on the Bonnie unhindered. A chair would have effectively ruled it out for commuting, which at that point made up most of my rides. A solo bike could navigate the Edinburgh bypass gridlock, while a combination would have prolonged the daily grind.
We fitted a rack to give a bit of luggage carrying potential, but I wasn’t convinced throwover panniers would sit very well with the angle of the shocks. A friend, ‘Mudguard’, had recently traded his Bonnie in and sold me his Givi panniers, complete with tow bar. This provided a nice solution, with another friend, Steve, building a trailer for me so I can carry everything when I go touring. Towing is not a problem, provided you remember the trailer’s there and allow a bit more time for braking.
The upright seating position suits me. The front end can be a bit light and twitchy at higher speeds or when you have a load of camping gear on the rear. I’m considering a steering damper, and some owners fit aftermarket bars, helping them get a bit of weight over the front end. A screen might help too, but I prefer a naked bike. The standard suspension is pretty soft; I really wasn’t happy with the cornering but adjusting the suspension to the second firmest setting transformed things. Some owners opt for aftermarket shocks. Hagons are popular and reasonably priced. Front tyres last about 10,000 miles with the rear only managing about 6000 miles.
A search for the Bonnie’s toolkit revealed a lone Allen key, lurking behind the side panel. You are meant to be able to undo the side panel with the aid of a coin. If it’s nice and secure then you’ll need a screwdriver. The Allen key is required to remove the screws which hold the seat on, enabling access to the battery. This might indicate the Bonnie’s anticipated reliability, or that Triumph want you to use a dealer for servicing and diagnostics. The alternative is to purchase an appropriate lead, download the software and do it yourself. I find it strange plugging a bike into a laptop during a service to adjust the air/fuel ratio but it’s a cheaper option outside the two year warranty period. If performance rather than relaxed cruising is your thing, then the engine can be remapped and tuned.
The Bonnie copes well with anything you throw at it. It’s fine on single track roads and the wee twisties. It accelerates well and is obviously much faster, with considerably better brakes, than my 400/4 and 350 Bullet – but they are more flickable. To me this equals more fun, albeit at lower speeds.
I tend to use the Bonnie when I need to be somewhere quickly or carry a lot of stuff. It’s ideal for long distance work and can easily cover 400 to 500 miles in a day to a rally, with a high proportion of motorway work. The fuel injection is responsive with brisk acceleration and it’ll cruise happily at 80mph with plenty in hand for high speed overtaking. Sitting at about 50mph, it’s easy to open it up to overtake a line of slower traffic, look down and realise you’re fast approaching the ton.
Often however, after even a relatively short ride, I wonder if the seat will ever bed in and get more comfy. By 100 miles I’ve had enough and need a break. Some owners opt for Triumph’s gel seat or a larger gel pad. Another friend took pity and very kindly bought me a sheepskin to ease the pain. Although I’m sure folk will get the wrong impression and think I have piles, I’m looking forward to fitting it and hopefully experiencing a new level of comfort.
Unfortunately if it’s wet you’re meant to remove it, shake it and re-secure it. Not easy with a fixed seat arrangement. I discovered the hard way that the Allen bolts and spacers which secure the seat need to be really tight or they’ll fall off and you’ll lose them. A hinged seat would be easier.
The 3½ gallon tank has no reserve. I was initially concerned when the petrol light came on at around the 120 mile mark. Mudguard assured me it came on far too early and the range should be about 185 mile. I soon found out the hard way that the range is exactly 155 miles, sadly about 44mpg. Many thanks to Martin of Henry Colbecks, for coming to my aid at North Berwick, saving me a long uphill push to the petrol station! More recently the petrol warning light is coming on closer to 140 miles. Perhaps I’m easing up a bit, or the sensor might be on its way out!
The polished stainless steel downpipes on the Bonnie are prone to blueing. Some owners embrace this, claiming that if they aren’t blue, you’re not riding it enough…
I am often quizzed about the Bonnie, particularly by gents contemplating buying one to replace a long cherished, kick start-only bike. The electric start makes life easier but it’s still a hefty lump of a bike. Four stone heavier and a lot chunkier than an original Bonnie, the centrest and consequently takes a lot more effort in use. It is nothing like the easy up and on achieved by simply standing on the centrest and lug of a nicely balanced, pre-unit T120. I tend to just use the sidestand, which is really easy to access.
With a 29” inside leg, on the Bonnie I can get both feet almost flat on the ground, generally finding manoeuvring no problem. Last year however, I ended up on a narrow single track road coming downhill to a bad T-junction onto another single track road with a bad camber. I had to turn right at a really acute angle. Attempting to open the throttle gently, the power and weight of the bike took me across and almost off the road. On a smaller, lighter bike it might not have been such an issue.
At first glance the Bonnie looks like an older Triumph; the paint scheme helps. This evokes a fair bit of nostalgia and often confusion with folk trying to place it, asking if it’s perhaps a Tiger 110 – but Hinckley’s T100 and T120 are definitely not Tigers.
It frequently attracts people who say they can’t wait to hear the engine. It is however a thoroughly modern bike. Meeting noise and emission limits, the T100 is noticeably smoother and quieter than an original Bonnie. A friend kindly described it as ‘refined’ rather than muffled. The Bonnie is easy on my hearing but a louder exhaust would suit me better. Triumph offer a range of options to pimp your ride, with plenty of aftermarket options to enhance power, performance and sound.
At night the headlamp is absolutely brilliant compared to my older bikes, but annoyingly you cannot turn the lights off. I’ve considered fitting a switch from an earlier model to overcome this. The lights and pre-ignition checks probably don’t help the battery either. One day I was heading out and Alan started my Bonnie long before I was ready to go, so I turned it off. A few minutes later it flatly refused to start again. Although the battery was showing a healthy charge it wasn’t enough and I had to buy a replacement. Other owners report similar experiences despite using an Optimate charger. Next time I might try a gel battery.
Otherwise the Bonnie has proved extremely reliable and it’s difficult to find fault. It’s an easy bike to ride, handles well enough and takes everything in its stride regardless of bad road surfaces or lousy weather. It is forgiving when I go the wrong way down the box, get the brake and gear lever muddled up or try, in vain, to engage sixth gear! It does feel like it needs an extra gear; some owners add an extra tooth with a 19T engine sprocket.
Adjustable brake and clutch levers are handy but the 1” handlebars are noticeably chunkier than I’m used to. Fitting the heated cruiser grips has resulted in an even larger grip. With arthritis in my thumb joint, riding the Bonnie can become painful over time. Occasionally I forget to pull the clutch lever in before pressing the starter and wonder why the engine won’t start!
The ignition key sits at the side of the headlamp so it’s easy to forget to remove it. I wasn’t happy with a key fob attached as this fluttered about when riding and would wear the paint away, so resorted to a keyring with a ribbon attached to a clip. The keyring holds the steering lock key (one day I may use it), the pannier key and the key for my lock. The clip acts as a reminder that something’s missing, prompting me to attach the ignition key when it isn’t in the switch.
The Bonnie is over-engineered but relatively easy to work on, and the genuine service manual helps. The rear wheel is difficult to remove, due in part to the silencers but made worse on mine by the tow bar. The spindle comes out on the left hand side so the left silencer needs to be removed. Once the wheel is back in place, the right hand silencer needs to be removed to enable the use of a torque wrench. We used to find it easiest to drop the back end over the edge of our bike lift which gave enough space to drop the wheel out. Now I find it easier still to call Strathearn Tyres at Crieff, who don’t charge extra for removing the wheel for tyre fitting. Although it’s a bit of a guddle, what with the centrest and and towbar, they provide a reasonably priced, quick and remarkably cheery service.
Removing the rear calliper to replace the brake pads is another silencer-off job. Rear pads last about 12,000 miles; front pads about 16,000, and both can be had for about £20 each online.
A dipstick would’ve been easier than the oil sight-glass which requires the bike to be upright. The oil and filter only need changed every 6000 miles. The petrol filter lives in the petrol tank, and is changed every 12,000 miles, along with the rubber gaskets on the bottom of the petrol tank. At around £100 using genuine spares and consumables, this service isn’t cheap, but the service intervals are generous with reasonably priced pattern spares readily available.
The RAT forum can be informative, a source of amusement, commiseration and inspiration. That’s where I got the inspiration to use the stainless steel cups from a pair of Thermos flasks to cover the base of the clocks and add some bling. The owner who used tin cans complete with Del Monte label gets my vote!
Annoyingly, some git in a car bumped the Bonnie when it was parked up so the lacquer on the rear mudguard is slightly crazed. No one would notice, unless I pointed it out, but this may give me an excuse, as it deteriorates, to finally opt for a Nuclear Red colour scheme!
And what happened with the sidecars? The A65 ended up with the sidecar after all and it took a long time to return both it and the Constellation to solo use. So I can’t comment on the suitability of the Bonnie as a sidecar tug but I do have a brand new, unused mounting kit for sale if anyone’s interested?