The Hinckley Trident

Triumph’s second Trident spearheaded the new incarnation of the famous British marque. Is it any good now? I’ll skip to the answer – yes. It could be the deal of the decade.

A true underdog, the Nineties Trident is a fantastic buy now

More than a decade of terrible, out-oftouch upper management, selfdefeating unions and tired product ranges lead to Triumph’s demise. But in 1983, as the shutters clattered down, its saviour came in a most unexpected guise. To this day, little is known about the reason successful, selfmade businessman, John Bloor bought the Triumph Engineering name and rights from the receivers, when he was surely just looking at buying the factory land to do what he was best known for – building houses. But I for one, am truly glad. The model range was first seen in 1991 and was cleverly thought out. The names sounded familiar, but it was not the continuation some thought would come. The Trophy was for touring, the Daytona for sports and the naked Trident – all with a choice of engine sizes – was a large range for a new manufacturer. Triumph had been clever. The frames, running gear and design were all similar, with smaller differences to tailor to its role, like gearing, front fairings and handlebars. The engines were very similar, using the same bore, many similar internals and modern, but not groundbreaking engines. The new Triumph had studied the market, their rivals and invested into a long-term plan, not a pipe dream. One of the first bikes was the Trident, which came in both 750cc and 900cc, triple cylinder form. The naked variant of the range may have had fewer headlines than the 1000cc inline four, faired bikes, but it was the closest to the Meriden (and Harris) bikes, with paint jobs of historic colours and pinstripes to arouse those old memories. Back in the early Nineties I was an exdispatch rider-turned motorcycle instructor and was extremely lucky to have a 900 for a while. naïve and in the job of my dreams, I couldn’t resist that torque. Looking back, the gearbox was good as long as your changes weren’t too quick, and a friend (hi Pete!) told me to make sure the battery was in good condition to save the sprag clutch on the starter mechanism. Other than that, pour in petrol and ride – Bloor had apparently been insistent they wouldn’t suffer the poor reliability of the old models and they didn’t. That sound, oh that sound. I couldn’t afford slip on cans, but it sounded wonderous, unique. At any speed. Especially in the days when no one wore ear plugs. At the time Triumph was running the Speed Triple challenge as a support race to Superbikes, and they looked like my bike with clip ons – I couldn’t afford those either, but I could see how good I looked and how fantastic I sounded… Hindsight and internet bores tell us all they were heavy; with that huge spine frame curving over that tall engine and Bloor’s quality mandate ensuring nothing would break, allied to economies of scale, meant they surely were. But it was only when that huge tank was brimmed and using the centrestand that I noticed. In truth at that age I hardly noticed 10psi missing from the front tyre, but I still turned the concentric chain adjuster upside down to quicken the steering – ’cause that’s what the racers did. Bad points? I hated the wheels, they did look like Kawasaki cast offs. The chain was crap and lasted just 6000 miles, so I fitted a DID X-ring, a Scottoiler, only adjusting it a few times in the next 38,000 miles. Services I think were 6000 miles, so crept up with irritating regularity; so I did them myself. I dropped it after forgetting the disc lock was still on, which bent a clutch lever and the front pads were replaced at some point – I don’t remember. Oh and the fork seals went, but that was down to botched wheelies. I blame the torque. After that I moved on and got a Trophy 900. Should you buy one? Absolutely. 44,000 miles in just over one year of riding, in all weathers, work and play, with no issues. You can get parts easily, you can modify it to suit your taste and it will eat long distances for elevenses. And they may not stand out like something Italian, but they still look great, they are an important part of British motorcycle history and are in all senses a classic. But the best part? You can buy one for less than one thousand pounds. Thank you, Mr Bloor.