Triumph Thunderbirds.
The Triumph Thunderbird was launched in autum 1949 for the 1950 model year – after some impressive publicity meant it was much anticipated. It remained a range mainstay for a decade and a half.
Have you ever ridden a Triumph twin? As you’re reading this magazine, then there’s a fairly high likelihood that the answer to the question might be ‘yes’. In many ways, the Triumph twin is the model which defines our movement, its period of production roughly coinciding with our main era of focus and interest. In short, therewas always a Triumph twin there (or thereabouts).
Whether you’re interested in general riding, club runs, scrambling, racing, trials, touring, straightforward restoration or special building, there’s a fine chance that a Triumph twin – in one of its many forms – has made your acquaintance.
Which is the best Triumph twin is almost as big a topic to debate as whether they’re better than the period opposition; but we’re sticking to Triumphs here. Every model has its advocates; there are devotees for everything from prewar SpeedTwins to 1960s Tiger 90s, and a sizeable number for whom, simply, the Bonneville cannot be bettered; though of course there’s at least four sub sections in that category too.
The case for the Triumph Thunderbird as the best of all is a strong one. It ticks many boxes; supremely stylish, historically important, enduringly popular, a sales success and damned fine to ride, too. Should the Triumph Thunder bird, and not the Bonneville or Speed Twin, be considered the top twin? Well, perhaps yes.
When, in 2008, I produced an archive picture book on Triumphs, the model I chose to adorn the cover was a Thunderbird. Why? Well, good old-fashioned bias came into it – at the time I had a Thunderbird – but there is a genuine case to be made for the Thunderbird’s huge, and underrated, importance to the enduring Triumph popularity.
The models chosen as Triumph’s flagship twosome are generally the Speed Twin and the Bonneville. To the SpeedTwin first. It is unquestionably hugely important;
it could be argued with reasonable success and evidence it was the first ‘modern’ motorcycle. Launched (albeit early, like mid-summer) for the 1938 season, it cannot be underestimated just what a game changer it was; there had been pretenders before but the market, really, assumed that if anyone was a ‘serious’ rider it was a 350 or 500cc single they rode. This had endured since the dawn of our two-wheeled pursuit – in fact, Triumph itself had done much to set the template, with its own 500cc side-valve single, from the veteran period, another which could maybe lay claim to being the company’s most important model; indeed, I believe it was the famed commentator and columnist Ixion who claimed without the Triumph, the fledgling industry would have capitulated, so dire was the reliability of many companies’ products.
So 500cc had been established as the premier sporting capacity in the time before the First WorldWar – and with hostilities out of the way and with motorcycle sport returning, so the 500cc class become the one to win. It was called the Senior category; surely if one is to win a competition, they want towin the Senior title, not the Junior or Lightweight. The connotations of the words literally says it all.
In the boom years of the 1920s, the Isle of Man Senior TT was quite probably themost important race in the world – particularly if youwere British, anyway…
Manufacturers placed huge store on winning it, but a quick study shows perhaps they were misguided. Of the 1920s Senior winners, 1925 winner HRD (in its original form) didn’t see out the 1920s, AJS (1921) was bought out in 1931, Sunbeam (1922, 1928 and 1929) was a totally different company after the Second World War – and 1930 winner Rudge (save some autocycles) didn’t return post-1945 at all.
Absent fromthat list of winners was Triumph – the company did dabble in the 500cc Senior class in the 1920s, with its overhead (four) valve Ricardo model and replacement two-valve TT (withmuch development undertaken by Brooklands ace Victor Horsman) garnering some success, including Walter Brandish’s runner-up sport in 1922 on a Ricardo and Tom Simister’s third in 1927 on a two-valve, though they never made it to the number one position. It’s fair to say, Triumph didn’t have the sporting pedigree of saya Norton, or even Velocette, Rudge or Sunbeam.
The world was changing by the late 1930s, with multi-cylinders becoming more fashionable and successful in sporting events, as the BMWs and Gileras (Rondines) threatened the ‘big single’ Norton domination. To this changing market, Triumph announced, in mid-1937, the 500cc Speed Twin. To ride a Speed Twin in period, must’ve been to have seen and experienced the future. These remarkable machines still feel modern today, particularly in terms of their engine performance, willingness to rev and acceleration. ‘Revelatory’ is probably too hyperbolic a term but, in all honesty, it must’ve felt like the future had arrived.
But after the Second Word War, once again the world was changing – the 500cc Senior class, while still popular in Britain, wasn’ tw here it was a tin the important, nay critical, US market. From State side, the cry came for ‘more cubes’; Triumph’s chief, Edward Turner, perhaps not everyone’s cup of tea but with a reputation built upon making silk purses out of sow’s ears and an eye for detail and styling never before or since bettered, gave ’em what theywanted. Enter, flying in on a warm draught of American air, the Thunderbird.
Even the name was brilliant – the thunderbird being a being of supernatural power and strength, controller of the upper world (among other things) and also clearly, quintessentially American. There weren’t many thunderbirds in the cultural history of the midlands town of Meriden, near Birmingham, the home of Triumph.
Launch party
So how to introduce this newcomer to the world? Triumph – aka Turner, one would imagine – decided upon a feat of highly-public performance, to leave the public in no doubt as to the capabilities of the newcomer.
In September 1949, the first three production machines were subjected tow hat The Motor Cycle called ‘…the most severe standard machine test held post-war.’ Emphasising that the models were designed primarily for ‘sustained high-speeds on the vast, smooth highways of America, Australia and South Africa’ the three bluefinished T-birds – registered JAC 769, JAC 770 and JAC 771 – proved that point by all the motorcycles averaging over 92mph for 500 miles at Montlhery, with each completing the task with a flying lap of the autodrome at over 100mph, the best being 101.78mph.
It was stirring stuff, the achievement enhanced by the fact the bikes had been ridden there too, before being track-readied – but not much modified, though the gearing was raised by a tooth on the engine sprocket (qualified by saying this would ‘probably’ be standard fitment on export models…) with racing tyres and plus fitted, and a bigger main jet.
The Motor Cycle leaves it until two thirds through the article before dropping in the new name – “to be called the Thunderbird, incidentally” being the exact phrasing – though the praise was fulsome. No enthusiast reading it would be able to resist wanting one; list price was £194-6s-3d with purchase tax added, the sprung hub a £20-6d option. To put that into context a Series C Vincent Rapide (capable of 110mph) was nearly £358, a Velocette LE around £160. The Thunderbird, to put it bluntly, was cheap speed. Stylish, too.
The launch report included the caveat that early models would be for ‘export only’ but therewere hopes that models would be available on the home market by Christmas 1949, meaning that, come the new year, and the new decade, riders would be able to start the 1950s on a high.
How the models progressed
The Thunderbird in its original incarnation/life span can be split into three distinct groups – rigid/sprung hub, swinging arm and unit construction, with perhaps a sub group of swinging arm before offered as ‘bathtub’ models.
The sprung hub was the model used on the Montlhery expedition and the version launched for the public to buy. It’s interesting to note, Turner himself if not against the 650cc model, certainly wasn’t altogether convinced by it; he viewed 500cc as the optimum for a parallel twin.
Finished indeep blue all over, it cut an extraordinary dash– what right-minded rider wouldn’t have wanted a 650cc Thunder bird? Sure, it was for the Americans, and the other far-flung places, but the Brits, as well
as the mainland Europeans, wanted them too.
From 1950-54Thunderbirds had the rigid type frame, with the sprung hub an optional extra. The all-blue finish was a constant – though the shade different – with significant changes including the adoption of an SU carburettor from 1952 and in 1954 coil ignition and alternator.
The biggest, most obvious revision since launch came in 1955, with a switch to the pivoted-form (swinging arm) frame used on the Tiger 100 and Tiger 110 in 1955. The ‘T-bird’ retained its blue all-over paint job, though this changed in 1956 to crystal grey all over.
For 1957, therewas an end to the all-over paint scheme, in favour of a black and gold (to tank and mudguards) job, and for 1958, an Amal Monobloc replaced the SU for the US market. For 1959, the Monobloc became standard fitment and gold went, in favour of charcoal grey.
More significant changes came in 1960, with a new, duplex frame, forks, and the adoption of the bathtub rear enclosures. Many parts – petrol tank, oil tanks – were new designs too, shared with the other 650cc model sin the range. By now the Thunder bird had slipped further down the pecking, with Tiger 110, Trophy and Bonneville models ‘above’ it. The sombre grey and black went for the 1961 season, a new – and markedly more attractive – silver and black scheme brightening up the poor old bird. That though was to be its last new paint scheme. For the US in 1962, bathtub enclosure was ditched, but retained in the UK.
The last of the old Thunderbirds, perhaps the end of the true bloodline, was introduced in 1963, with the new unit construction engine and gearbox, which came in a new, single-down tube frame with the ‘bikini’ side-panels. Notmuch changed now until its demise; the last years’ models were sans side-enclosures and with the new eyebrow tank badges but, for as a model that had been such a key launch and success story, it disappeared with little fanfare fromthe 1967 programme.
Therewas then the short-lived early 1980s model, the TR65, (1981-83) which was built by the Meriden co-operative, with a short-stroke 650cc version of the Bonneville engine. The last ever 650cc Triumph built by the ‘old’ factory was a Thunderbird. and marked something of a change in direction for ‘new’ Triumph which had, thus far, concentrated on modern motorcycles, leaving aside the retro market (which everyone knew it would enter at some point). Interestingly, it led with the Thunderbird, which came five years before the more-anticipated Bonneville.
The new Thunderbird – the very first models now being eligible for Vintage Motor Cycle Club ( VMCC) events, or very nearly so – owed not a thing to its illustrious forebear, sharing a name and a tank badge, but nothing more.
Powered by the same 885cc double overhead camshaft three cylinder engine found elsewhere in the Triumph, albeit detuned to produce 69bhp, the new Thunderbird – interestingly and prosaically – was intended to spearhead Triumph’s re-entry into the US market. Which, just as its father had, it duly and successfully did.
The third generation of Triumph Thunder bird came in 2009, with a twin-cylinder 1600cc behemoth; built, like its granddaddy before it, in response to the American cry for more cubes. It got even bigger, with a 1700cc upgrade coming too.
Which Thunderbird for you?
There are plenty to choose from, wonderful all. The most evocative is the early one – just like Marlon Brando’s in The Wild One – while my own was a first-year swinging arm machine; it was lovely to ride and did a few years good service, before somebody ‘desperately’ wanted it and I let it go.
The thing with the Thunderbird was everything was just so easy; it started easily, it was easy (and relaxing) to ride, it represented as close as one can get to dramafree old motorcycling. And it looked fabulous, too.
Would I have another one? Of course, though next time I’d probably hold out and find what I wanted in the first place, which was a Brando lookalike. The gold one on the next few pages looks wonderful, too, while I beta mid-1960s Thunderbird would be an old round, super-usable classic. Plus while the bathtub isn’t to everyone’s taste, they are verymuch ‘of period’ which adds to their charm too.
So there’s a Thunderbird to suit all tastes, and that’s without the later incarnations too.
Beaulieu Autojumble, some 25-years ago, and Jaguar XK rare parts specialist TomKent was prowling the stalls on the lookout for something different. He’d had a love affair for British bikes for as long as he could remember and always thought that a Triumph would be the perfect stablemate for his 1955 Jaguar XK140 open two-seater. But which one to choose?
Tom is about as fussy as they come. Not for him the run-of-the-mill mismatch; it would be something of interest or nothing at all. He had not been in a hurry and had already spent time on fruitless journeys. But this time there was a sniff in the air. His uncanny knack of unearthing bikes and parts that most would just write off as junk, was starting to itch. It led him to an unsavoury looking pile of Triumph bits that could even be a complete machine. He sat for a while familiarising himself with a sturdy frame, lumps of mechanical components and various pieces of bashed and bent tinware, and what paint that did remain, appeared to be a shade of gold. The only accessory seemed to be a single Rodark D-shaped pannier, made by Craven.
He’d struck up a conversation with the stall-holder, who confirmed that the bike had been off the road for years, way before the advent of computerised registration. But he did have the original, buff cardboard log book that confirmed it to be a 1958 Thunderbird, with the colour box marked as bronze gold. All Tom had to do was agree a price.
After counting out £1100, ownership of this ambitious project changed hands. Tom accepted that there was nothing remarkable about this bike. No significant previous owners, no real history. But it was the unusual colour that drew him in. As soon as he had a chance, Tom laid everything out to see what he had, or rather more important, what was missing. The
original engine was complete, with the correct SUMC2 carburettor. But there was plenty that was either AWOL or so badly damaged that repairs would be heroic. He’d spent a long time sourcing this bike so there was no hurry to finish it, especially as he was putting his son Ashley through college and had a mortgage to pay.
A specialist in sourcing original parts for Jaguar XKs, Tom wouldn’t even think about using any reproduction parts on the Triumph, unless he absolutely had to.
Take the wiring harness for instance. Accepting that his skills were more in coordinating a restoration, he handed the various jobs over to the professionals, while he set about getting the bike registered with the DVLA and tracking down original parts. A E Ledger Coachworks, a company that he’d worked closely with during his Jaguar restoration, was given the job of sorting the frame and tinware. But all was not well. The guards looked as though they had been left at the bottom of a pile-driver, and the single Rodark pannier was not much better. They had their work cut out.
Themain restoration work was given to another specialist in Worthing, where an on-site machine shop had obvious benefits. They could at least get cracking on the engine and slick-shift gearbox rebuild. Pulling every stroke that he could and thumbing through his book of contacts, word was soon on the streets that Tom needed parts. Then, back at Beaulieu a year after buying his Thunderbird, he not only found another Rodark pannier, he also turned up the Britax pannier crash bar protectors.
It took time, some four to five years, to pull things together, but he managed locate everything he needed including an original horn, air intake and most important, front and rear guards. These weren’t just parts that would serve, but new old stock items that had never been fitted to a machine.
It was slow progress and to keep costs down, the bodyshop agreed to a reduced rate, letting their guys work in their own time, at evenings and Saturday mornings. The panniers were on the fragile side and in a dreadful state, offering a real challenge. But, like the fuel tank, the transformation was nothing short of astonishing. At least theywere spared sorting the guards and other new parts that Tom had turned up. Finally, the metal work was ready for paint. The bronze gold was easy enough, but the guards and panniers had a black centre rib with white pin-stripes that had to be meticulously applied.
Tom had the wheels rebuilt using new rims and spokes,. Fitted with new Avon tyres, theywere ready in time for the final assembly of the Thunderbird. Very much an onlooker, Tom watched the progress as the various frame sections came together, before being reunited with the mechanical components, and at last, his Triumph was ready for the road.
I hadn’t arranged to see Tom’s Thunderbird, my business was his Jaguar XK140. But as soon as I saw the machine my attention was fully focused. I heard the story over a cuppa and before I realised what was happening, Tom pushed a crash helmet on to my head and suggested I use up what fuel therewas in the tank and to return on reserve. There’s no tickling of the carburettor, a long lever sprouts fromthe base of the SU marked in bold capital letters, up for rich. Even I could get that.
Starting the engine from cold required no more than lettingmy bodyweight fall on the kick start. The Turner twin soon settled to the gentlest of idles, while I made ready to ride.
Unfamiliar with the area, and with no travelling companion to guide me back to base, I determined to ride out and return the way I had come. Not a bike for tearing up the tarmac, or sparking the pegs, I was still surprised at howbrisk theThunderbirdwas. But I shouldn’t have been. There have beenmany a T’bird in the Patten Bike Shed over the years, but these days I am more used to lively Bonnevilles and have fallen into the trap that anything less isn’t worthy.
Howmistaken could I have been. With relatively clear B-roads, bend swinging became addictive. Maintaining a decent speed and taking a clear line through the curves, it was possible to make swift progress. Not that the ride was about speed, that is relative after all, but it wasmore the sensation of bonding with a truly well restored bike that reallymattered. I wasn’t expecting much from the seven-inch, full-width front brake, so that riding within its capabilities, there were no nasty surprises. But then I made sure not to put myself in a silly situation.
I managed to find my way back to Tom quite easily, finding him as relaxed as ever, knowing howmuch I would have enjoyed the ride. He obliged by riding a few circuits while I photographed the motion shots. It was only then that I had a true look over the bike. I kept returning to the rear and the relationship of the panniers and guard. Craven hadmanufactured the contours of the panniers to match the Triumph and so all three components fell into perfect harmony.
A E Ledger had done a superb job in getting the Rodark panniers straight. There wasn’t a ripple to be seen.
There is somuch to charm, from the nacelle and the chrome headlight hood, to the period Britax crash bars. Nothing has been overlooked. Quite howTom managed to track down somany original components is amystery, but then this project did start 25 years ago.
If I had time to join in with some local ride-outs, this would be the perfect bike to have in the shed. With those gorgeous panniers, extended trips wouldn’t be out of the question either.
Tomeventually sold his golden child and soon heard the new owner had sold the panniers as not being to his taste. Sadly, he has lost touch with its whereabouts. Tom has since flirtedwith various BSA and Ariels. But he is nominally looking for another Triumph, this time a lighter T21. But it must be the bikini fairing type. As usual, he is in no hurry, and only he will know when the right machine presents itself.