Three’s Company
Tridents and I share a love / hate relationship. I try to love them; they manage to hate me. It’s been this way for a very long time. A very long time indeed. The first triple I saw on the road was actually a BSA Rocket Three in a bizarre shade of bathroom blue. I was trolling along the old A4 aboard my Matchless, and saw an outfit parked up in a layby enveloped in clouds of smoke. Of course I stopped and went to offer assistance.
The bike was almost new. This was 1970, maybe 1971, and the triples had been in production for some time, but although Norton Commandos were to be seen around in schoolboy Somerset, the triples were not. But anyway – what was on fire?
Nothing. The ‘smoke’ was in fact steam. Proud Owner had ridden through a deluge and had parked up for a cuppa from his flask and a sandwich to maintain the inner man. The steam was rising from his gloves, which were resting on the cylinder head and fizzing gently. I was bemused. Why buy an amazing sports bike like the blue BSA and stick a sidecar on it? The sidecar was empty, too. The owner just smiled and offered me some coffee, while pretending to admire my own machine. And a lot of Tridents have passed through the various Sheds down the years, all bar one of them T150s, with just the one T160 to add variety and drain the wallet. Every time I decide I really must
