1978 Triumph Bonneville T140
If you believed all the stories you heard about British motorcycles, it would have to come as a giant surprise to learn that they are still alive and well, and in fact enjoying a new lease on life.
True, the once-great British industry is now represented by no more than two brand names and several small, hand-built bike specialist firms, but at least one machine, the Triumph Bonneville, continues in almost the same form as it was when the model was introduced in 1959.
A semi-unit construction engine was designed in 1964, but with the same essential bore x stroke dimensions it had when the first 650 vertical twin engine was introduced way back in 1933!
The Castrol Six Hour race was won in 1970 by the Bonnie, and it showed up again in two other Six Hour events, but without impressing. In 1973 the model’s cylinder bores were enlarged by five mm, the long stroke engine then featuring a 76 mm bore and 82 mm stroke, with a capacity increase to 750 cc.
It was as a 750 ohv vertical twin that the Triumph Bonneville ran in the 1978 Castrol Six-Hour event, ridden by veteran Triumph rider Bob Payne and young Martin Hone.
The Bonneville started the event as the only single-machine entry, and with the cards stacked against it as a result, but it suffered no mechanical problems and finished the event as fresh as it had been when it started.
It was a gesture not lost on the many Triumph fans present for it proved the point that the machine could be ridden hard (its best lap was 62 seconds flat) and fast without sacrificing reliability, and it showed it could be ridden for long periods of time without undue physical effort.
The machine was road registered in New South Wales, even though it was owned and entered by Peter Stevens Motorcycles of Melbourne, and it was to be returned to the owners soon after the event. That provided Two Wheels with the opportunity to ride the bike from Sydney to Melbourne to check the bike’s worth in its own domain. It is, after all, a motorcycle for the arch-enthusiast, and it begs to be ridden as a high-performance touring iron.
Though dressed in the very non-standard red, white and green racing livery of the Peter Stevens organisation, the bike’s internals were bog standard and you could say it was well run-in, so the thought of punting the bike hard and fast for the 900 km journey to Melbourne looked like a very good idea.
But for some reason this was not greeted with universal acclaim, not by a long way!
One guy I mentioned it to reckoned it would expire at Liverpool, and another smart character claimed the bike might finally make it but I would expire at Liverpool.
Everyone agreed that the Bonnie would leak most of its oil on the way, and everyone warned me to wear my oil-proof trousers and leave the Belstaffs at home. Several people warned me I’d need dental treatment in Melbourne and again in Sydney to replace fillings which would be vibrated loose on the journey, and of course everyone knew that the Lucas electrics would not allow me to run the bike at night!
Oh, the bike would certainly handle okay, and the Triumph/Lockheed disc brakes would stand the bike on its nose wet or dry, there was at least universal agreement on that point!
Treachery unjustified
I think it is a sad commentary on any machine’s reputation that even those who have never ridden – much less owned – a Triumph would make their views known in the derogatory terms reserved for this particular marque, particularly as much of the adverse criticism is no longer valid.
I say “no longer” simply because the machine has had its moments in the past, though it should be remembered that engine reliability has never been in question. Quality control, yes, but never the strength of the old-fashioned donk which first saw the light of day just on 45 years ago!
I have no wish to shatter fond illusions, or to dispel long-cherished myths, but I must say here and now that the Triumph Bonnie covered the 2100 kilometre ride (I ended up actually riding to Melbourne and back!) with ease, suffering just one serious breakdown on the way home when its Japanese battery fell apart at Goulburn.
The trip back to Sydney was made in precisely 9 hours, 40 minutes, with exactly 30 minutes spent breathing some life into the dud battery. A running time of 9 hours, 10 minutes· for a journey of 870 km to my outer Sydney home, for an overall average speed of nearly 95 km/h. The Bonnie went through fuel at the rate of 16.5 km/l, which manages a give-and-take average of just on 50 mpg. It is a little less than I would have figured, but the last two litres of fuel cannot be drained out of the 19-litre tank thanks to the odd positioning of the fuel taps, so an empty tank is not quite so empty if you can run it up a bank somewhere and run the dregs into the carbies on several occasions.
As it happens I thought this might be on sometime during the run down to the Southern Capital because the trip was made while petrol supplies were still dicey. Fortunately the outer city and country areas were well serviced and there was to be no problem from Sydney right through to Euroa in Victoria.
I carried brief, essential luggage in a well-rounded Army kit-bag. It’s ideal because it keeps the weight down low and “wraps” the luggage round the rear of the dual seat, with an old gas-mask bag to hold a single four litre can of emergency petrol.
The first leg of the journey down was made to Goulburn, with the Hume Highway used in preference to the easier, more open countryside through the Blue Mountains and out by Blayney and Cowra. The distance through the mountains is longer but faster because of the open roads, but it is dead boring because of a lack of challenging corners and grim road surfaces.
As usual, the Hume Highway is a National Disgrace, with the road being torn up all over the place, and also quite a lot of roadworks on new highway stretches to be seen along the way.
We had hardly cleared the Freeway through Camden when the first detour came our way; just this side of the Razorback range a gas tanker had rolled over and traffic was being diverted through an older road which wound back to the Highway at Picton.
A detour at this early stage was not intended to be part of an extended road test, but it proved to be a very interesting part of the long ride, simply because the road was open and fast, heavily trafficked in some places and very, very choppy.
It is the type of road surface which puts a machine’s road-holding and comfort to the acid test, and it’s the sort of unknown road which one can travel over very quickly only at one’s peril. All too often a corner will tighten itself on the exit and compound this felony by being heavily rippled or pockmarked with ragged potholes.
The Triumph loped over this grim stretch of road with ease, to lurch into Picton ahead of several hard-driven cars and two motorcycles which it had encountered along the way. Not often used, this stretch of road had decayed and four hours of pounding from Interstate semi-trailers has left its mark in broken asphalt and several sections of very bumpy tar. It places a premium on good handling, which has always been one of the hallmarks of the Triumph and which has lost nothing with the adoption of the later, oil-carrying backbone frame, with its large diameter main tube and duplex, full cradle design.
Rear suspension is taken care of by inverted Girling gas shocks, with the front end kept honest by two-way damped telescopics of Triumph manufacture. Overall movement is not very much and could be more with advantage, but the firm suspension keeps the wheels on the deck and assures the bike of its classic great handling.
But it didn’t take long to find one or two short-comings in the bike, one of which is inbuilt, the other a bolt-on alternative. The twistgrip is a quick-action type with a good, fast action but lacking one of the great boons to long-distance touring – a spring-loaded friction adjuster which allows the rider to relax his grip on the throttle.
It’s a very simple thing and seldom remarked upon, but the difference in long distance cruising is immense. It is a single cable control, with a hidden junction box taking care of the twin cables for the two Amal Concentric carburettors, the throttle slides controlled by springs which are on the heavy side. This means that there is some pressure against the cable which goes into the twistgrip, and it will literally snap shut with a crack as soon as the rider’s grip is relaxed.
It also means that the grip must be consciously held open, and this proves to be an exercise bordering on the painful over long distances. The friction adjuster was once a standard fitting on all British twistgrips, but an absurd American law has seen it abandoned in recent years, with some sacrifice in rider comfort.
Perhaps it is significant to discover that an expensive American accessory has recently been put on the market called the Cruise Control. It consists of a ratchet arrangement which will allow the throttle to be locked in position “to relieve rider tension on long trips!”
Heavy, ribbed handlebar rubbers were fitted for the Castrol, and there is little doubt they are most effective because they are soft and heavily barred to fit into the clenched palm for better grip. But on a long distance ride the heavy bar is right in the middle of the palm, and it added its lumpy feel to the general discomfort of the undamped twistgrip. The grips were changed for the ride back to Sydney!
The bike is totally unstressed on tour, with a fairly tall gearing seeing 100 km/h on the speedo with just 3500 rpm on the clock. The tacho is redlined at 7000 rpm, with a Castrol-only addition by George Heggie of a supplementary redline at 6500 rpm for additional safety. I found the change-up point was spot-on at 3700 rpm in the first two gears, while it would wind out nicely to 4000 in third and fourth and trickle along at its own pace in top gear.
Another popular myth to receive the chop is the one about the bike vibrating badly, for the small vibration period of the Castrol Bonnie came in at 3200 rpm, hung on ’til 3900 rpm then almost disappeared! Even when the narrow rev band in which vibration is at its worst is encountered, the engine buzz is never uncomfortable. You can feel it at work but the inherent vibration which is so much a part of the vertical twin design is never more than mildly annoying, and in fact is little more than one feels in many other machines of more sophisticated design.
The Bonnie pulled very well from 3500 in top and resembled a big, punchy, single in the way it would dig in and pull up steep main road hills while still in top gear. Most steep, long grinds were taken in top, but on one or two occasions it was necessary to slip back to fourth for 100 metres or so, just to lift the engine revs a bit higher up the scale before clicking back into top again.
With nothing to prove to anyone, but with the grim spectre of a shortage of fuel supplies on the highway, the trip to Goulburn took just over two and a half hours for the 212 km and that was satisfactory enough. Fuel ran out at just 170 km on the clock, but the reserve supply allowed another 40 km to a Golden Fleece Roadhouse just the other side of town. There was still some fuel in the well of the tank ahead of the high-mounted fuel tap, and the fill was just under 13 litres – around 50 mpg at a reasonably brisk pace.
I met a guy there who had seen the bike in action at Amaroo, and who has a brother looking after John Warrian’s Ducati, so we swapped Triumph stories for a while over coffee and a ‘burger. He went on to Sydney and I fired the Bonnie up in a single kick and pressed on to an overnight stop at Albury.
It was on a fast downhill sweeper to the left that the Triumph had its first moment of drama just before Yass, on a very bumpy stretch of road which was receiving the pock-mark treatment from the Brylcreem Roadwork Brigade (you know, “A little dab’ll do ya!”) which was laying gravel traps for unwary motorcyclists.
An errant breeze had blown a solitary roadside sign down and I just managed to read its message as I flashed past it. It said “Traffic Hazard Ahead” and no further information on what the hazard might be; but the hazard soon flashed into view.
Just on the apex of the curve and as far as I could see round it the Brigade had laid a bed of molten tar and laid a heavy screen of gravel on top! Naturally there was a very large semi-trailer to be seen on the exit line from the corner, with a couple of cars behind it hidden in a low cloud of powdered blue metal.
It meant swinging to the wrong side of the road and diving into the corner very late and at an extreme angle of lean, to lift the bike up and hang onto it as it swept into the deep gravel, but the bike shook itself as it went into the mess and never moved off line until we were through it!
Whether or not this could be a pointer to excellent handling or to the condition of the road I shall not argue, but a very heavy machine thrown into the same set of circumstances might well have buried itself into the gravel further and even found the wet tar which glistened through.
At 177 kg (390 lb) the Triumph is far and away the lightest 750 on the open market, and it makes this fact felt time and time again when the chips are down and sudden avoiding action or a quick line change becomes necessary. The Michelin tyres with which the bike was shod were also well up to the task.
With that heart-stopper safely under its wheels and long gone, the Triumph droned on, its exhaust sounding flat and yet punchy. It gave the impression that at any time it would reach the end of its useful performance range, but there seemed always to be another squirt in the engine no matter how quickly it was being punted.
The engine’s natural vibration period is right in the 80-115 km/h range. It’s comfortable enough not to impinge on rider comfort or to shake anything off the bike, but I fought a losing battle with the left front blinker all the way from Sydney to Melbourne and all the way back again! It would swivel round till it pointed skyward and sit there happily, apparently content to go no further.
Push-button preference
The Triumph does not feature a starter motor as part of its main ingredients, relying entirely on its solid-looking kickstarter to provide the puff to bring it to life. Frankly, I think it is a mistake.
There is no doubt the purists would argue, and the Yanks have certainly announced a preference for the old-fashioned kickstarter, but it is a giant pain to start the engine unless the right drill is employed.
The Amal Concentric carburettors are perfect for the machine and could not be more simple if they tried. Totally trouble-free, they merely require the old dodge of tickling them to raise the fuel level and then nothing more than a big, hearty kick to bring them to work. To look at them one would think them too crude to be functional, but they rely on the essential simplicity of their design to be trouble-free. Another myth down the drain? Sorry about that, but there was not the slightest complaint about the jugs, or the smooth application of power they allowed the engine to deliver.
But it is not in the simple act of kicking a big 750 cc engine that one really comes to appreciate the advantage of an electric starter. It is on the rare occasions when trouble strikes, or the engine stalls from too heavy a hand at the traffic lights.
In truth the donk starts first kick on most occasions, or at the very worst in three, but there is some resistance felt from the comparatively large 375 cc cylinders. I found it’s not the easiest of starters whenever the kickstarter is dealt with in any less than the most enthusiastic manner.
Leave the starter there for those who want to use it, but I would bet the marque would gain many more stalwarts if it happened to have a 1970s electric starter to augment its 1930s kickstarter.
The trip to Melbourne was made with no drama, and was very nearly boring as a matter of fact, but the return trip was something else!
I dropped the bike off at Peter Stevens Motorcycles in Elizabeth Street and took off on their SP1000 Moto Guzzi (who said sublime to the ridiculous?) while the bike was serviced. Apparently the head bolts needed nipping up, with a tweak of the chain adjusters and an oil change. The exhaust pipes had loosened slightly, and of course a precautionary look at the tappets was in order after the head bolts were re-set. But that was all, for the bike had run perfectly all the way down, topping off at just over 140 km/h on one occasion with 5000 on the clock but otherwise being run at more reasonable touring speeds.
Let me explode another myth by saying that the Triumph Bonneville leaked not a single drop of oil on the trip and it burned not a drop either. Fuel stops were few on the way down, and the oil was checked on two occasions just before moving off. It was never below the upper level on the dipstick.
Four days later we turned for home and decided to squirt the bike harder to see how it would react to a long, hard and non-stop (except for fuel) wrung-out tweak of nearly 900 km. It was raining when I left Melbourne (what else is new?) which gave me an opportunity to try the bike’s squashy Michelin tyres and check the disc brakes in the wet.
With the exception of one little slip in the tramlines, forced on me by a car which tried the classic right-hand-turn-across-the-bow, the tyres proved to be as good as any I have·ridden on. But they were very tacky after a long burst at 150 km/h, with the last edge of tread warm to the touch and clearly scuffed. They clung to the road surface perfectly, but would wear more rapidly than a firmer compound.
The disc brakes were superb in the dry, dipping the forks hard if applied with heavy pressure, even at high speed, and yelping the tyres if braking very late and coming back through the gearbox.
Sadly, they were not quite so good in the wet, and must be considered average – which is to say not very good – when awash. I understand that the firm disc pads used in the Castrol may have been the culprits. Whatever the cause, the rain brought disappointment.
One of the main advantages of the Triumph for long-distance touring is its great gearbox using well-selected ratios and very short lever travel. The gear lever moves through about half the travel of the best of its contemporaries, and this, allied to the quick-action twistgrip and light, smooth clutch, allows the fastest gear changes I have found in years.
One can stroke the lever through its short travel at the same time as releasing the pressure on the clutch, while rolling the grip back no more than a quick flick of the wrist. The selected gear slides in with no fuss, the only indication that a higher gear has been selected coming from the new, lower engine note. It’s great stuff, and must shave the odd bit off desperate point-to-point averages.
And so we swept home, the Triumph and I, merely pausing for fuel at 210 km intervals, and flapping off to the washroom on each occasion. Must have been the cold weather!
But the battery?
It stopped raining at Albury, started again just this side of Gundagai and kept up a mizzling fall for about 20 minutes. It stopped altogether just before the strange town of Jugiong, but I pressed on with the Belstaffs in situ just in case.
Oddly, though we were averaging much higher speeds on the way back than we did on the way down, the fuel consumption remained very nearly the same. I suggest it was because we were running with more consistency, topping out on a couple of occasions at this side of the pre-metric ton, but never falling below 110-120 except for a gentle 90 through towns!
All went well until Goulburn, and it might not have made much difference to us even then if I hadn’t switched the engine off to refuel. As the bike swept round a tight corner into the town it stuttered a couple of times and I dived for the reserve tap. When it straightened up again it drove off as though nothing was wrong, and we stopped for a minute or so at the main street’s lights with the engine idling as quietly and as smoothly as it had right through the trip.
And so, quite unsuspectingly, I swept into the local BP for a top-up and an empty-out, switching off the ignition and climbing stiffly off the saddle. The place was closed, but there was another one open down the road, so I switched the ignition on again and kicked the engine over.
Dead!
There was no light in the ignition warning lamp, and the horn would emit nothing but an asthmatic croak. Clearly the battery was beyond help, but there may be a possibility of its being resurrected, so the seat was whipped up and the battery removed.
Two cells were badly sulphated, and all the plates in them were rattling about loosely. The other cells had water levels distinctly below the minimum level, and the battery was hot enough to glow in the dark – as it was then six o’clock daylight saving we could not check to see if this was so.
Lee Roebuck Motorcycles was in town of course, but it was right over on the other side and so, with the local village idiot – some Dutch guy with a converted TT500 Yamaha and fat tank, to match his head – giving me the benefit of his learned opinion of Triumph motorcycles, the battery was filled with tap water and reinstalled.
The dull pink glow of the once-red ignition light gave some hope, and they all laughed as I leapt to the kickstarter. The engine, still warm, fired first kick! The Dutch clown looked skywards while the proprietor, an erstwhile Triumph owner, made the appropriate gesture at him.
It is a tribute to the Lucas 120W alternator that it supplied sufficient current at kickstarter speed to start the engine, and it also supplied sufficient current for headlamps and blinkers as darkness drew on nearer home. I would be much more inclined to blame the Japanese battery than the British motorcycle, for it was not the bike which broke down on me.
The agents claim the Lucas battery, which costs almost twice as much as the Jap unit most people prefer to fit, gives not an ounce of trouble, but they have been known to throw out several of the cheaper variety which have expired with exactly the same trouble I experienced.
Engine vibration? I doubt it, simply because one’s body is as sensitive a recording instrument as you would ever need and it did not record a significantly high reading on the Khyber and Wrist scale. No, that engine certainly did not exhibit undue vibration, nor was the trim little Zener diode guilty of allowing the alternator to boil the battery.
Overall, the round trip to Melbourne proved the Triumph to be capable of being flung about the nation’s roads with abandon, and managing to maintain very high averages while doing so. Its light weight and good power spread allows the bike to be ridden near its peak for hundreds of kilometres without distress to machine or rider.
Its gearbox and dry weather brakes ally themselves with first-rate handling to make the machine a joy to ride at speed, and the occasional bumpy drop into a well-shadowed corner which is sharper than you think does little but raise the pulse rate while the bike speeds on undaunted.
Maintenance is absurdly simple and by no means beyond the average semi-skilled owner. It is the sort of machine which deserves to be owned by the enthusiast who will spend the odd hour or two tinkering with the device to keep it up to the mark.
There has got to be a very good reason why the Triumph twin has survived for 45 years in the face of some of the grossest mis-management any machine has ever had to face. The reasons for its incredible survival, even in the face of denigration by those who know little about the bike, are there to be found – and enjoyed – by all who ride it.
And an electric starter would merely add the icing to a well-seasoned cake.
A Speedy Show of Waving the Flag
Back in 1970, Australia’s modern “instant classic” event, the Castrol Six-Hour race, was won by a Triumph Bonneville, which covered 212 laps in its history-making win. In 1978 an almost identical Bonneville (the bike tested above by Lester – Ed.) was ridden in the prestige event, and covered just 213 laps in running last — after losing about 15 laps late in the event when it shed its rear chain.
The machine was owned and entered by Peter Stevens Motorcycles of Melbourne and prepared by George Heggie of the Sydney suburb of Narwee. It was a foregone conclusion that the machine could not hope to be competitive, but this in no way affected the decision to run the legendary British motorcycle. The point of the exercise was to prove that the marque was alive and kicking and the declared intention of the entrants was to ride the machine to a finish in the country’s most prestigious road racing event.
Most cynical observers gave the “old-fashioned” vertical twin no chance at all, and tales of its prodigious thirst for oil and its propensity to disembowel itself after being thrashed in anger were to be heard on every hand. It remained unmentioned and unseen in TV coverage until the end.
The Triumph finished the event – after the German-made rear chain was replaced – in last place, but doing better than more than 17 high-fancied motorcycles which fell by the wayside. Among those which did not survive were no fewer than eight GS1000 Suzukis, one XS750E and two XS1100 Yamahas, two Z650 Kawasakis, a CB750 Honda F2, Mike Hailwood’s class-leading Ducati 750SS (which was dropped by co-rider Jim Scaysbrook) and two of the CBX1000 Hondas which were expected to do so well.
Through the carnage at Amaroo Park the lone Triumph droned on and on …
Steve Chiodo, king-pin of the Peter Stevens motorcycle empire in Melbourne, was the man behind the Triumph entry, for it was he who decided to run the machine in an event he knew it could not hope to feature strongly in, at least in terms of a high place.
He says it was simply a promotional exercise; a gesture aimed squarely at a market dominated by Japanese machines, and a market which, enthusiasts apart, tends to denigrate the staid old British twin.
He says the idea to run the Triumph first came to him one day while he was watching a production race from the hillside at Melbourne’s Calder Raceway.
“There was a Ducati in the race, and it wasn’t doing very well,” he says. “But we were standing near a group of guys who thought it was magic that the bike was in the race at all. They had tunnel vision for the big Duke and were not very interested in any of the other bikes in the race”.
Steve realised that a similar bunch of Triumph fanciers would find a Triumph entry in the Castrol something to throw their helmets in the air about, and he was right. He has several letters from British bike fanciers applauding the entry, even one from the secretary of the BSA Owners Club. The letter’s reaction to the machine’s entry is typical, and says in part “You have sufficient faith in the machines you sell to enter them in a race of this type”.
Judging by the reaction from the top of both Amaroo hills whenever the British machine hove into view, Chiodo’s decision to run the machine was wiser than it appeared. A wave of riders at the top of both hills would rise like a great coloured mass when the bike appeared and settle down again after it had passed. You could hear the cheer from the hillside when the bike rejoined the fray with its new chain fitted. And you could hear it in the pits!
”Look, the bike is so uncomplicated that we knew the entry would not cost us very much,” Steve told us. “And in fact it cost about $1000. Wonder what it cost the first three finishers? I’ll bet it was at least 10 times as much!”
The Peter Stevens Motorcycles empire enjoys a unique distinction in world sales of Triumph motorcycles, according to Steve Chiodo. He claims his market share is higher than any other distributor of the marque.
The average world percentage stands at a trim one percent, with the Triumph enjoying just .09 percent of the total sales of motorcycles in America.
The British machines have a one percent share of the market in both New South Wales and Queensland, but Chiodo claims that the market share in Victoria is 2.8 percent, while it enjoys two percent of total motorcycle sales in South Australia and 1.9 percent in Tasmania. Peter Stevens distributes the marque in the latter three states and the company is justifiably proud of its record of sales on the world-wide market scale.
“In terms of total units sold it isn’t too impressive when compared to sales of the make in America,” he says. “But we are all happy with the fact that we enjoy the highest percentage sales anywhere in the world.”
Peter Stevens claims that the various retail outlets in Melbourne, and the other agencies in other states which they supply, account for two container loads of Triumph motorcycles a month; that runs to about 50 units a month through the distributors, with other agencies looking after the machine in NSW and Queensland.
The firm has handled Norton motorcycles since 1974, and was approached about the Triumph agency in view of its record of Norton sales.
“For some reason people are frightened of Triumph. They all talk of oil leaks and lack of quality control but overall it’s probably the least trouble of them all, mainly because it is easy to service; it doesn’t cost an arm and leg to keep on the road, and it doesn’t eat into our time,” Steve said.
Steve Chiodo plans on developing a road race Triumph Superbike, and will have it tuned and prepared by long-time Triumph expert George Heggie. Veteran racer Bob Payne is currently campaigning a Heggietuned Bonneville which has been a giant surprise for many a fancied runner; not so much because it has won its fair share of gold and glory but simply because this “old” pushrod twin runs consistently in the first half-dozen.
Behind it is many a highly-tuned dohc four which has spent the race trying to get away from a machine which should not hope to be competitive.
“We are going to wave the flag for Triumph,” Chiodo warns, “and we are out to show the cynics that it is still a name which is in the marketplace and which is there to stay.
“We are looking to sales rising – however slowly – and we see the racing circuit as a logical place to show the flag. Besides, there are still those current owners of the marque who want to see – and hear! – their favourite machine at work.”
By Lester Morris. Two Wheels, March 1979
Lester’s book Vintage Morris: Tall Tales but True from a Lifetime in Motorcycling is just that, a memoir of his many-and-various – and often hilarious – experiences in the motorcycle industry. It’s available as a paperback or e-book from large online booksellers, or you can order a signed copy by emailing the man himself at lm2@tpg.com.au. Volume 2 is now available also.
Falloon: The Classic View
Betty’s Bonnie
The public’s fascination with the British Royal family is not a new phenomenon. And it extends well beyond popular entertainment for the masses. Even motorcycles aren’t immune from this popularism and in 1977 Triumph decided to capitalise on a significant Royal event, the Queen’s Silver Jubilee (25th Anniversary).
At the time the Triumph board included several unpaid managerial advisors, one being Lord Stokes, former Chairman of British Leyland. He suggested Triumph capitalise on the event and managed to obtain Palace approval for a limited edition model. Thus each came with an official commemorative certificate, and the Bonneville Silver Jubilee would become one of Triumphs most successful models of the Meriden era.
The early 1970s was an extremely turbulent time for the British motorcycle industry. By 1973 most companies had closed their doors and only Norton and Triumph remained. But despite significant government assistance their annual losses were still horrendous. In an effort to save the industry, Norton and Triumph merged, with production to be consolidated in two factories; the BSA plant in Small Heath, Birmingham and the Norton facility at Wolverhampton. But no one told the workers at the small Triumph factory at Meriden in the West Midlands. With the threat of closure looming, the Meriden workers blockaded the factory in September 1973, effectively halting Bonneville production for nearly two years.
When Bonneville production resumed late in 1975, it was still ostensibly an anachronism in a world now used to oil-tight four cylinder superbikes with overhead camshafts and an electric start. As Triumph was limited in their developmental resources, the Bonneville’s updates were primarily to enable it to be sold in the traditionally profitable US market. This included a left-side gearshift, rear disc brake and new Lucas switches.
Although the revamped T140 suffered from hot running, unreliable electrics and vibration, it still possessed great mid-range power and excellent handling. And the traditional scourge of British twins, oil leakage, was largely tamed. The modest dry weight of 177 kg was also around 45 kg lighter than comparable Japanese 750s at the time. But reliance on the US market saw Triumph caught out by a falling dollar after retail prices were already established and cash flow remained a serious concern. By 1977 Meriden needed a quick lifesaver and the Bonneville Silver Jubilee was just the ticket.
Basically the Jubilee was a standard 750 Bonneville, sharing the venerable long stroke (74×82 mm) 744 cc 360-degree parallel twin. With a mild 7.9:1 compression ratio, and fed by a pair of small, 30 mm, Amal carbs the engine produced a very modest 44 horsepower at 7000rpm. What set the Jubilee apart were the gaudy details, including shiny chrome-plated engine covers, fork covers and tail light bracket. Blue and red striping highlighted the rather undistinguished silver paint, striping accents continuing on the 19 and 18-inch wheel rims and special Dunlop K91 “Red Arrow” tyres. The Jubilee’s most unusual styling feature was the blue seat with red piping. Even the silver chain guard received the royal treatment, accented in three colours.
The hand-welded frame was the often criticised and controversial “oil-in-the-frame” type first introduced with the T120 in 1971. But by 1977 it was well developed, with shorter shocks to lower the initially intimidating seat height. For the Jubilee Triumph introduced a pair of Girling gas-filled upside down shocks, with the spring pre-load at the top, these soon making their way to the rest of the Bonneville range. US examples received the smaller, traditional “teardrop” style fuel tank, with UK and export versions the less attractive “breadbin” style.
Initially it was envisaged that only 1000 Jubilees would be built, hence every machine carried the proud boast of “One in a Thousand.” However, demand persisted so Meriden produced another 1000 and finally a further 400 for general export.
For these final examples Triumph replaced the emblem with “Limited Edition.” Obviously “One in about Two and Half Thousand” didn’t have quite the same ring. One thousand were destined for the US but they sold very slowly as Americans couldn’t really identify with the Royal event. Even in America the extravagant looks were considered over the top, and Jubilees sat in US showrooms gathering dust well into the 1980s. Elsewhere they were immediately considered investments and many were squirrelled away with little or no miles put on them. As a Meriden spokesman said later, “They were brilliant. Fifty percent of owners put them away and never ran them so the warranty call back was minimal!”
Five things about the Meriden Workers Cooperative
1. As a Labour government was elected in February 1974, this resulted in more government sympathy for the workers and Secretary of State Tony Benn encouraged the workers’ co-operative.
2. In August 1974 Tony Benn visited the freshly-painted Meriden factory and after speaking to the workers on the Government’s industrial policy departed to the strains of “For he’s a jolly good fellow…”
3. Despite government support Norton Villiers Triumph refused to sanction the Meriden co-operative agreement. In November 1974 formal redundancy notices were served on Meriden’s 879 co-operative workers and they re-imposed the blockade.
4. The Meriden Co-operative was eventually ratified in March 1975, the blockage formally ending the same day. With government support withdrawn Norton Villiers Triumph was placed in receivership in October 1975, and the following year the Co-op managed to secure the Triumph name and worldwide distribution rights.
5. A continual decline in profitability saw the workforce diminish to 450 by 1980. In August 1983 Triumph motorcycles went into voluntary liquidation and the Meriden factory demolished to make way for a residential development.
Price new 1977: $2995. Now: $15,000 to $20,000 Mint
Ian Falloon is one of the world’s foremost motorcycle historians and authorities on classic motorcycle provenance and authenticity. He has written many books on classic and collectable motorcycles, including two on Triumph: The Complete Book of Classic and Modern Triumph Motorcycles and Triumph Bonneville, 60 Years, both available here.
