TRIUMPH TRIDENT T160
The electric-start Triumph triple should have been the British industry’s superbike for the Seventies. But Paul Miles reckons it’s far too flawed to claim that title
The electric-start Triumph triple should have been the British industry’s superbike for the Seventies. But Paul Miles reckons it’s far too flawed to claim that title
When they were new, the weirdlooking BSA and Triumph triples sold disappointingly – despite US buyers being offered a ‘beauty kit’ to make them look better. BSA/ Triumph resisted the obvious ploy of making their Trident look a bit like their bestselling Bonneville right up to 1974, when the final incarnation of the ohv triple was released, the Triumph T160 Trident. Boasting five speeds, disc brakes at both ends and, crucially, a long-overdue electric starter, the Trident looked at last to be a match for the Japanese competition, not to mention the fast-emerging challenge from other European manufacturers. Weighing in at a portly 525lb, it was nearly half a hundredweight heavier than the previous T150 – those discs and electric starters come at a price – but the redesign was a complete triumph (sorry). With the pushrod motor canted forwards in a similar way to the long since discontinued BSA Rocket 3, and with rounded lines on the tank and seat, the last factory Trident finally emerged as the beautiful swan it should have been from the start. Visually, it really is the quintessential British classic motorcycle, with serious attention having been given to ergonomics and detail. Get up close and personal with a similar-era Commando, for example and a lot of the parts look generic or bolted on anywhere. The T160 feels like a complete design, even down to the annular discharge silencers that are upswept just enough to perfectly
showcase the jauntily-angled motor. Why, they even split the downpipe on the centre pot into two, giving the impression that the engine might be four cylinders. That trick did Suzuki no harm with their two-stroke triples range, either, albeit they used four silencers.
Petrol on, tickle all three carburettors, the centre being reached using a remote lever (unlike the BSA triple which needed an ET-like digit to operate) and… press the button. The T160 started, easily. Crikey. Pushing it off the centrestand, the rubber mounted handlebars yawing in that slightly disconcerting Triumph way, it felt quite heavy, CB750 heavy in fact.
Equally heavy, the clutch action. I’ve never really ‘got’ the point of a Trident clutch. At a nominal claimed 58bhp the triple boasts a mere six horses more than the T140 twin, a machine blessed with a near-perfect clutch action. So why then this wretched diaphragm thing? Adjustment is counter-intuitive and I’ve never yet felt fully confident about having done a good job of setting them up. In fairness it never slipped on this machine, but finding neutral at a standstill was sometimes an issue. It was all a bit 1960s compared to the thoroughly modern m contemporary Japanese offerings.
Roaring through the five available ratios was fun and the weight, carried low, disappeared once on the move. The Triumph triple remains a fine-handling motorcycle. Not so much the brakes, however. Disc brakes front and rear were still a novelty at this time and the solid cast rotors and Lockheed calipers require a mighty heave or stamp to effect any useful retardation. I know why they fitted twin discs. It was the fashionable thing to do and the efforts from the competition (excepting the Italians) were hardly worth writing home about, but surely a double disc at the front and rear drum setup would have been better on such a heavy motorcycle.
The triple engine itself made a tremendous mechanical roar when revved, imbuing the rider with a great sense of speed and power. But with only 6bhp advantage over a contemporary T140 to offset the 130lb weight deficit, the simpler and (much) nimbler twin would likely lead it a merry dance out on the road. People often talk about the spine-tingling exhaust wail of a Trident, and in fact this aspect of the bike appears to be one of the principle drivers behind any intention to purchase. This T160, fitted with a completely original exhaust system, was designed to cope with increasingly stringent noise regulations, especially in the crucial US market and was as quiet as a modern motorcycle, despite its plethora of pipes and joints.
Aural efficiency was achieved at the cost of mechanical access, however. In order to get to the sump plate and clean the strainer it was necessary to remove the entire system, a truly tedious job. LP Williams make a replacement exhaust that mirrors the stock setup, yet allows full access to the underside of the motor, something any current owner would have to consider worthwhile. As is the aftermarket Boyer electronic ignition, obviating the necessity to set up three sets of points; I doubt there are many triples still running the original ignition set-ups.
Despite the T160’s fine handling and relatively modern accoutrements like electric start and disc brakes, items expected by then from the Japanese but still perceived as novelties when it came to Triumph, I failed to really warm to the last-of-the-line triple. Perhaps unfairly, I never really expected the
starter to work reliably and pushed the button with some trepidation every time. Likewise the carburettors: having to flood three separate float bowls seemed as archaic as it was tedious, given this was competing against single lever choke set-ups on other machines.
All the excitement of the mechanical thrashing gave a wonderful impression of speed, but like an early Range Rover all that noise and urgency translated into only relatively moderate performance out on the street where it counts, despite the prodigious amounts of petrol it consumed in the process. The Trident used fuel at such an alarming rate that I spent some time checking for leaks in the tank. Riding at a ‘making progress’ speed, but nowhere near wringing the throttle flatout, the T160 returned under 30mpg – about half the fuel economy of the equivalent T140 or Commando. Back in the day if I’d been spending my hard-earned student grant on that much petrol I’d have wanted Kawasaki H2 or Z1 levels of performance, not a triple that’s only a bit quicker than the twin Triumph had been building since before the war.
In essence, that’s my beef with the T160. All that extra money, weight and complexity didn’t really translate into a motorcycle that moved the riding experience sufficiently forwards. When Hele and Hopwood first presented the idea of a triple to senior management a decade previously, they’d envisaged it quickly growing in size to first 850-900cc, then possibly to a four-cylinder litre-plus monster within a few years. Instead we ended up with an engine no larger or more powerful than the original 1960s concept, but with significant additional mass to lug around.
For sure, if the rider ignores any mechanical sympathies and thrashes the motor hard, then rapid progress is possible, albeit at the obvious price of hugely reduced reliability and a fast-emptying tank. But to make the Trident the motorcycle it should have been requires a considerable financial and ergonomic sacrifice. Fit a big bore kit and free-flowing exhaust, embark on a comprehensive weight loss program and get rid of rider comforts like the heavy starter motor, indicators and air boxes… and you might end up with something really exciting to ride.
Or leave it alone and simply ride and maintain the bike in stock trim. You’ll be rewarded with a reasonably smooth, reasonably lively, reasonably comfortable motorcycle that looks fantastic but doesn’t really excel in any one area while exacting a heavy toll on your finances. For me, that’s not enough. It’s too high a price to pay (literally) for a mediocre ride. The Trident remains one of the most frustrating motorcycles I’ve ever ridden and it really could and should have been so very much better in this, the final incarnation.