TALES FROM THE SHED

I mentioned already – at length, as is my way – how chuffed I was with our little Tiger. ‘Little’ is all a question of perspective, of course. When I was a lad a ‘Mine’s a 500 Triumph, mate’ was a sure sign that a guy had arrived, that he had a full-size bike, not some feeble pop-pop learner thing. And the Triumph bit was important, too. My own ‘Mine’s a 500 AJS, mate’ produced more derision than respect, such is the cruel way of the world. Odd how things change.

But what had not changed was the rekindled memory of just how great a 500 Triumph can be to ride. You may already have read my thoughts on the 500 Daytona I borrowed, a ride which made me consider our own T100C with new respect. Would this also really pull the ton? Would it really rev merrily and with added indestructability to 7000rpm? I do not know and I have no wish to find out. However, my enthusiasm for zapping about the autumn lanes on a grand old rattler was so rekindled that I added it to the insurance (very little cost, remarkably) and pondered whether it needed to be taxed – to pay that ‘road fund’ licence.

And of course it does not, being a 1971 machine.